#bedroom is up next!

[fereldanwench]

this isn't anywhere near finished but it's tidy(ish) and usable so it'll work just fine for now 😊

[egophiliac]

innocently logging in to look at the Twst schedule for May like

[ruporas]

good mornings throughout the travel

[ID: Two comics of Vash and Wolfwood from Trigun Maximum. The second is underneath the read more.

The first is in four panels and follows Vash and Wolfwood through hotel rooms. First, Vash and Wolfwood exit adjacent rooms, and Wolfwood has sparkles floating around him as he exclaims, “Rise and shine! Ready to go?” Vash frowns, displeased, and says, Urk— Good morning to you too.”

Next, they’re in a room with two beds. Wolfwood is awake and fully dressed. He’s sitting on the bed and smoking, back turned away from the viewer and he says, “Wake up already, sleepyhead.” Vash sits up with his eyes still closed and yawns before saying good morning. After that, they’re sharing a bed, and Wolfwood gets up and says, “Morning, sunshine. Time to get up.” His body shadows Vash from the sunlight. Vash is still lying down with a blanket draped over him as he mumbles good morning.

Finally, they’re embracing in bed, both shirtless. Sunlight shines on them, but their contact allows their shadows to drape over their faces. Vash smiles, kisses the top of Wolfwood’s head, and says, “Good morning, Wolfwood.” Wolfwood sleepily says, “Mph, g’morning, needle-noggin’,” snuggling into on Vash’s shoulder. End ID] ID CREDIT

TRIMAX Vol. 10 Spoilers under read more // bonus comic

[ID: The bonus comic starts with Vash asleep in bed, fully clothed with his hair half-black. Someone says “Good morning,” and Vash says, “Morning, Wolf—w...” He trails off as Livio, holding a plate of food, stares with abject shock.

Livio says, “I’m sorry.” Vash, smiling but sweating, says, “No, it’s my bad...” Livio repeats, “I’m sorry.” Vash says, “Geez, stop apologizing,” and cuts off Livio’s “I—” with a “Good morning, Livio.” Livio quietly mumbles, “... Good morning...”

Vash sits up from the couch he was sleeping on and looks down, thinking, “... That’s right. I won’t wake up to you anymore... I have to get used to that...” End ID]

[bixels]

I just saw one of your fave games is What remains of Edith Finch and I’m so happy! I feel like its a lesser known game but i loved playing through it. I’m so happy to know more than just my small friend group know about this game!

Sorry this isn’t a question. Also want to say that you’re art is amazing and the development of the designs is so interesting to see. Also the way you draw intimate scenes have so much emotion to them. I love the Aj and rarity kissing comic so much, you can just feel their love for each other ;w;

Thank you so much!

I highly, highly, highly recommend What Remains of Edith Finch to anyone interested in narrative game experiences/"walking simulators." It's one of those games that was handcrafted with nothing but love. Every room you explore is just... real. The way the light flows in and makes the colors of the living room, the kitchen, the bedrooms glow. Playing the game is like walking through your childhood home as an adult and seeing how the dust clings to everything you once touched. Also genius-level gameplay mechanics, ones that can make you completely empathetic with the character you're embodying or feel completely complacent in their tragedy. It's really not fair to call it a walking simulator because it's so much more and so much smarter than that.Everyone talks about the fish one.

The theme of death and memory and storytelling and the burden of invisible trauma and self-fulfilling prophecies is so affecting too. The ending made me cry.

[heich0e]

au in which touya ends up having to watch natsuo put his hands all over you because you took something offered to you at a sketchy warehouse party that has you panting and whimpering and burning up and his own hot hands can't provide you any comfort but his little brother's cool-quirked touch can

[xxplastic-cubexx]

it doesnt need to be said but its genuinely so funny how at-the-hip charles and erik are in krakoa like they really had the green light- the OBLIGATION- to be as obnoxiously close to each other as possible and abused that right to the fullest extent

[lucabyte]

hello

is this how your peopls work. i am obsessed with your comics and the panel layout and the way they react to eachother and sdgafkhgfdhsagfha s i very desperately need to have a grasp on how you see them in their dynamic and interacting and i feel like i don't know as much about how isabeau and loop be interacting but i am so so so so SO curious as to how that goes and how they feel about eachother pre-"i'm a former siffrin" and post-"ok you know who i am"

oh hell yeah a diagram we love a diagram

but yeah i'd say you've gotten my interpretation of the dynamic down pretty solid??

in general i think my instinct with loop-isabeau interactions is a lot tamer/calmer than others ive seen, my reasoning for why being hmm... i think i can note my core 'things im keeping in mind from the text' here

isabeau's line in act 6 remarking that loop seemed 'shy'. for all of loop's bravado @ siffrin (and thus the player's pov), they are still siffrin, so while it can be easy to percieve them as this loud bombastic personality-- there is this textual reminder that them acting this way is probably due in part to being up against siffrin, someone who won't speak unless spoken to (and thus loop takes the initiative, and is also presumably reveling a bit in making them uncomfortable and annoyed, inkeeping with their self-hatred and self-flaggellation) this to me reads as a reminder that they'd probably retreat into their shell hard when presented with other people- the party included. so even if i can see them trying to undermine their relationships with others, i think it's probably more on the insidious 'insulting siffrin to make the party protective of them' side, because that also feeds into 'proving' that the party only cares about one siffrin and that loop can be replaced. meanwhile isabeau has shown that, even with a vicious jealous streak, he can mostly keep a lid on it. he's the most emotionally intelligent of the group, and would probably be able to suss out loop's self-harm-via-getting-people-pissed-off-at-them gambit relatively simply given how obvious it is. also isabeau is not immune to insecurity-- and would probably let loop take some precidence over their relationship with siffrin because 'well i cant compete with the guy who actually went through All Of The Timeloop With Them.' because like... damn how are you supposed to do that. loop understands their pain better than isa ever could, and it would show in their fucked up unspoken understanding of each other (because how is Isa to know thats because theyre the same guy, and not just because the timeloop traumabonded the fuckers baddddly. which it also did.).

timeloop stressful as fuck. absolutely has both of them on tenterhooks the whole time. we visibly see how it affects siffrin (despondance & mania & aggression), and we see SAPfrin be very. very very despondant. so it would seem to me that loop is basically in a perpetual state of mania, given how sif's internal monologue begins to resemble their way of speaking (with the tee hees and such) when they are clearly broaching into manic states. one can assume that if you take loop out of the Torment Nexus, while they probably wouldn't faire well, all of the tension and pressure that's holding them up would collapse, likely putting them more depressive again by default? Of note, whenever i write loop's dialogue (which im told i do well? i will be honest i kind of feel like that's far too high praise.) i initially write it as very blunt and pissed off-- and will afterwards go back in and Maybe change wording to be more 'silly', but mostly i just add tildes~, italics, exclamation points and laughter to the pissed off dialogue without changing the actual content of it?

loop likes their friends! They are fucked up in the head about it (badly!!!) but they like their friends! They still care a lot, and can barely even hide it a little bit with their aloofness in game. it feels redundant to even try pointing out where they slip up because its everywhereee. They de-person their Actors because theyre the same lines over and over and over, but you see in SAP alone how any break from the script makes them overwhelmed with emotion, and how devastated they are if that deviation occurs a second time and becomes predictable (dying to the king after triggering the requisites for the true end, forcing you to go through it again). BUT!! You take their friends out of the timeloop and let them be New Unpredictable People again? I genuinely find it hard to believe mx siffrin "i love my friends so much id explode the world about it" nolastname would be able to see that and just go "nope im emotionally disconnected i can keep being a bitch to these guys forever". like no theyre gonna slip into being at least neutral no matter what. even if it's in a quiet depressive state when the mania wears off.

my biggest deviation from frequently observed fandom things here i think: i think loop doesn't actually believe that ISAT!Party are 'replacements'. they rarely if ever word a sentiment like this. this is something the fandom goes for because the horror of being replaced wholesale probably WOULD make it easier to cope if you considered those people to Not Be Your Real Friends. But loops WHOLE act 6 spiel? 'THEY WERE MINE FIRST. I LOVED THEM'? (paraphrased) they obviously desperately want to be with them again, and know they're the same people. The Fighter/Defender discrepancy clue is mostly metatext here-- since Loop never acknowledges the defender title-- just calling ISAT!Isa Fighter-- because they are the same guy. Your Fighter. They even call them Fighter in the "You got memory of X, your Fighter will now..." dialogues! Which are practically system dialogues! So. they see these isabeaus as the same. And while I would not put it past them to come up with the "they are different, my party is Dead" thing to Cope... I do think it is a delusion, plain and simple, and that I think any post-knowing-the-truth party would probably shut down weird rituals ive seen the fandom propose (often in a cute way??? it makes me feel insane?? like the concept of loop 'memorialising' their 'dead' family is not cute its nuts. they are being nuts. its like actively feeding into an extremely maladaptive coping mechanism. sorry this is like a massive sidebar but like. Yes i do think this is something loop might do if left unchecked. but it should not be presented as sane or rational? it outright undermines the themes of the game to treat the concept of 'Loop's party' being 'dead' as 'True'?? There's like several points in the game where Loop and Siffrin express that things that happened in the loops Still Happened even if the party dont recall it-- which is why their actions-- being cruel or doing 'experiments' still hold weight and can be Wrong. That it's tragic that the party will never remember but that their forgetting is NOT a pass to do whatever with no consequnce (experiment, bad touch, etc). It follows that by Nixing all of "loop's party", treating them as seperate, in some way implies loop's memories are Lesser and what they did "doesn't matter as much", which is antithetical on account of being contradictory to however you take the stated theme. PLUS... The game and Paratext are clear that there is One Timeline. SAP is in the same contiguous space as ISAT-- it is effectively just that on the loop between SAP and ISAT that we the audience dont see-- loop ate that star and when the loop restarted there were two of them. for all intents and purposes one can intuit that Loop 0 of isat and SAPfrin's first loop are legitimately identical from sif's POV, as Loop does not reveal themselves until Loop 1. BUT YEAH GIANT SIDEBAR OVER. THIS WHOLE READ OF THE TEXT INFORMS MY THOUGHTS RE: ISALOOP AND RELATED CONCEPTS VERY GREATLY)

jesus christ i wrote a lot in the above um. sorry. i dont know if its intelligable. uh. good luck?

im also on team 'orrery book and sif's thoughts about it belie a real deep-seated brainworm' re: their response to a Cautionary Tale About How You Will Inevitably Kill Your Double seemingly being "Nah, we'd be besties."... like. i do think it is. funny. and not particularly Unbased. Given how they are. For siffrin and loop to specifically be compelled by how they are the same guy. And i think that there's a lot to be mined from 'Both of them are convinced that the party knowing who loop is would fuck up everything badly, so they're going to great lengths to conseal this' played in tandem with '... they are like. very much explicitly doing things together that are directly related to a feeling of shared ownership over siffrin's body and form & the fact they are The Same Guy'. like it is a hysterical setup to me and i think is only added to when you have to put Isabeau in the middle of this polycule also. With the few exceptions of times ive drawn stuff specifically hinging on characters Knowing Who Loop Is (which is like. all bonnie-centric stuff so far? i think?), i take a lot of care to try and make their exchanges Vague as if they are worried about being overheard or saying something that's too much of a smoking gun. But also it's really god damn funny to think about how concerning some of those things could sound the vaguer you make them. Remember that above all i live and die by The Bit. (... as do they.) ie basically because im powered by The Bit thats why i focus more on the sloop side because its like. actively Funnier and more drama filled. or at least presents oppertunities for such. i feel like on isabeaus side here its kinda frequently like

yknow ? (oh god my formatting is broken now) . i DO very much think it can become like. niceys. of course. i think they can just be normal fucking throuple eventually (though if i'm going that goddamn far into the future u may as well partycule the fuckers 2 me. by the time theyve solved whatever the fuck you call pre-reveal isiloops i think odile has gotten involved at the very least. but this is why i mostly keep myself to the realm of 'the mostly immediate post-game conflict' stuff since i think all these characters leave off the end of the game with such solid springboards for arcs set up (clearly intentionally) that the infinite realm of possibilities opens up too wide for me to be comfortable with.) anyway i keep thinking about the tragicomedy of isabeau finally finding an "in" to nurture a friendly bond with loop by comisserating and steeling themselves for changing again even though it feels like a betrayal of their previous actions/beliefs and how fucking funny the idea of 'loop reveal but theyre like 2 weeks into using she/they' is. just like you get all the way through the horrors of 'oh jesus christ the timeloop was even worse than we thought it was' but now '.. d. do you still . what pronouns do you want?' is tacked onto the end. Sorry did you hear something . must've been the wind. anyway . this ask is a fucking mess i hope its readable like at all . can you tell ive been brainscramblied for six weeks

TL;DR:

yeaghj you got it. its not like im doing anything revolutionary im just trying to stick as close as i can do what i percieve the characterisation is in canon & thus generally dont tie down any of my fanwork to specific post-canon-plot-concepts. its all just nebulous extrapolation set 'pretty close to the end of the game because i think these characters are going to grow and change extremely rapidly once the game is over given how they're all intentionally poised for character arcs when the game ends'. but also you should put isabeau in the worst social bind of all time with two of the most mentally unwell BPD OCD havers youve ever seen and let him try to figure out the balance of 'be gentle' and 'treat them like the almost-30-year-old adult they literally are' while he also balances his own set of entire life changes it'll be fine he'll be fine (someone should probably check on him)

[knowlesian]

my neighbor’s yard has such a fascinating mix of technically secular and explicitly religious christmas decorations that for a moment there tonight i had to ask myself, is that mickey santa being crucified or simply doing a sick flying dunk on that basketball hoop?

(he was in fact simply dunking but two years ago i fucking swear on all i hold sacred this man had mickey moses in a kayak floating on a sea of blue lights across his lawn so it was a genuine toss up until i got closer and breathed a sigh of mixed disappointment and relief)

[jaybirdsandbabybats]

linke saying viktor is ace as an excuse to deter the jayvik shippers man shut the hell up. you can be gay and ace. you can be gay and ace and still be sex positive.

dude can just straight up say "i dont like jayvik but if you see it that way i don't know what to say" instead of starting fires with all his non-answers in interviews

[widowshill]

— And do you or do you not have difficulty remembering such simple instructions? — Only during thunderstorms, sir.

THE SOUND OF MUSIC (1965) / DARK SHADOWS (1966)

[usernamesoft]

probably very controversial take but we deserved a bdsm scene from loumand

[bittsandpieces]

I can tell I'm really fuckin pissed off this morning because i left the house and immediately put on limp bizkit

[gravitywonagain]

House Party

(a Fresh Powder in the Pine Trees story)

.

The house is very easy to spot. The building itself doesn’t stand out in any way on this street full of giant, expensive interpretations of log-cabin-chic. Upper Biling is full of this style of architecture. No, it’s the cars in front of it, in both sheer number and apparent condition. Almost none of them were made in the last decade. Almost all of them are plastered with bumper stickers (Wei Ying’s favorite is the white silhouette of a snowboarder on a chairlift that says “Do you even lift?”). 

The music is loud enough that the beat can be heard from the driveway, but not loud enough for lyrics. The combined smell of weed and beer filters through the pine trees from, presumably, the back patio, along with wood smoke and happy voices. 

Wei Ying and Lan Zhan walk up the stairs to the front door and scrape their feet off on the snow grate to the right of the welcome mat before entering. 

It had been surprisingly easy to convince Lan Zhan to come to the Peruvians’ house party once they’d invited him. He hadn’t previously understood that the invitation was open to pretty much all of the employees at Cloud Recesses, including all levels of management. Once Wei Ying told Diego to ask Lan Zhan in person if he was coming (“make it casual as fuck,” he’d said and Diego had nodded along and delivered spectacularly with a “hey, Boss, you like any particular flavor of fizzy waters? I’m stocking up for the party on Tuesday”), Lan Zhan had a very hard time saying no. 

Stepping inside, Wei Ying immediately realizes it’s too loud in here for Lan Zhan. Realistically, it’s too loud for Wei Ying, too, but he’s used to it so he’d live with it for the warmth and the friends. Lan Zhan has no problems with the cold so they decide to keep their shoes on, wipe them off on the ratty, pink towel that’s been laid out like a mat for this purpose, and stay off the carpet on their way to the patio -- via the kitchen, of course. 

Wei Ying makes a point of saying hi to almost everybody they pass. Quick little greetings, nothing that will drag him into a conversation, but just enough to make his and Lan Zhan’s arrival known. 

He finds Ben and David in the kitchen. David points Lan Zhan to the fridge where he pulls out a can of carbonated water, just as Diego had mentioned (loquat flavored, because the man fucking follows through). Ben offers to make Wei Ying a mixed drink, but Wei Ying begs off.

“Nah. Nothing hard for me tonight,” he says. 

“Cool, man,” says Ben, entirely unbothered. “Beers are out back!”

The thing about winter parties in a ski town is you never run out of ice. 

As they walk out the sliding-glass door to the back patio, they see there is a berm built around one side of the fire pit area with many varied cans of beer sticking out of the snow. It’s super easy to build your own backyard refrigerator as you shovel over the course of the season. And it’s always fun to see what melts out of it when spring rolls around. 

It’s quieter out here, but still very much part of the party. There’s an Alexa speaker playing the same music as is playing inside and a handful of other people out here either to smoke or to escape the noise. They snag a couple of chairs by the beer wall and sit down next to Remy and Elizabeth. They’re both instructors in Juniors’ Club so Wei Ying pulls them into conversation easily, placing Lan Zhan between them and himself so he feels included. And he is included. The women ask him his opinions, they prompt stories from him. They don’t make him feel weird either for being there or for not being there before. It’s good. It’s easy. 

The fire is close enough that Wei Ying doesn’t even need to keep his hands in his pockets. He gestures when he talks and it only gets worse the more he drinks. The vanilla porter he’d grabbed when they first sat down is almost gone already and he contemplates his next drink. He’s just decided to see what the fuck Luponic Distortion tastes like when he hears his name. 

“Hey, Wei Ying,” it might be Nick from Rentals, “is that an 805 by your head?”

Wei Ying turns his head to survey the cans in the snow, finds the black and silver label he’s looking for, and tosses it easily into maybe-Nick’s waiting hands.

“Thanks, man!”

“You got it!”

Wei Ying turns to Lan Zhan and grins. “Usually I get tipped for that kind of service,” he says with a wink.

“Do you work at a bar?” asks Lan Zhan, head tilting slightly to one side. It’s an absurdly cute look on him. 

“Only sometimes. Yanli-jie lets me pick up a shift or two when I ask.”

“Why would you need to ask?”

“She’s not a mind-reader, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Zhan’s eyebrows are unimpressed.

Wei Ying cracks up at just how bitchy he looks. “Okay, sorry, sorry,” he says and then continues, “The resort pays me enough to cover food and rent and to pitch in for the car, but sometimes I want a little extra. So I pick up a shift at the Lotus Tavern and whatever I make in tips, plus some under-the-table hourly, I can spend on whatever I’d like.”

“What kinds of things?”

“Oh, you know what I like, Lan Zhan.”

He’s not sure if he’s matching the heat in Lan Zhan’s eyes or the other way around, but they lock eyes either way. It’s intense. 

Wei Ying is so into it. 

“Snowboards,” he says finally, still not looking away. 

“Mn.”

“Mhm.”

Remy clears her throat subtly. Wei Ying hears it but doesn’t realize it’s directed at him until she says something about her dogs and Wei Ying jolts out of whatever trance Lan Zhan had trapped him in. 

“Okay,” he says, “I need another beer.” He stands because suddenly he has all of this energy with nowhere to put it, but realizes that he does not, in fact, need another beer as he’s barely started in on this one, the can still heavy and full in his hand. He doesn’t let that stop his momentum. “Do you want another water or anything, Lan Zhan?”

“I’ll try a beer.”

“You --? You don’t have to. If you don’t want to drink, it’s fine.”

“Can you drive us back?”

“Uh... yeah. I’ll stop after this one,” he says, gesturing with the mostly-full can. 

“Then I would like to try a beer.”

“O-okay. Sure. Yeah. What do you want?”

“You’re the bartender. What do you think I’ll like?”

Wei Ying laughs off the flirtation in Lan Zhan’s voice because he is trying, okay? Lan Zhan is stepping outside his comfort zone, even more now, and Wei Ying needs to respect the boundaries that have been set. No matter how hard Lan Zhan wants to make him. It. It, not him. Obviously. Pull yourself together.

Lan Zhan’s lips curl in a tiny, almost-smug smile and Wei Ying knows he’s doing this on purpose. He hates it. He loves it. 

“Let’s start you with something a bit mellow. You’ve never had beer before, right?”

“Mn,” Lan Zhan confirms, “I tried baiju once, on my twenty-first. I don’t remember it.”

Wei Ying laughs and says, “Okay. Beer will be easier on you, I think.”

“Mn.”

Wei Ying selects a Fat Tire from the wall and wipes off the top of the can before he hands it to Lan Zhan. 

“Alright,” he says after the crack-hiss of the tab being opened, “this is an amber ale. It’s not too hoppy, but it’s not sweet either. It’s a pretty average beer. A good quality, average beer.”

Lan Zhan waits until Wei Ying is finished explaining before he lifts it to his mouth. 

He takes a sip -- a tiny sip -- and immediately scrunches up his nose at it. 

But he goes again. Another sip, slightly bigger this time. His nose wrinkles only slightly less. 

Wei Ying laughs, his smile stretching his cheeks. “You don’t have to like it, Lan Zhan,” he says. “I’ll finish it for you if you don’t want it.”

Something not unlike a pout begins to form between Lan Zhan’s lips and he holds out a finger, “Give me a moment.”

The faces don’t stop over the course of the next few sips, but they don’t seem to impede Lan Zhan’s determination so Wei Ying leaves him to it and drinks his own beer. 

He’s adorable, Wei Ying thinks as he watches Lan Zhan, so fucking cute. 

The alcohol works fast in him, it seems, as it’s not very long before Lan Zhan begins to slump in his chair. His eyelashes flutter as if trying to stay open. They fail. Wei Ying catches the beer can as it slips from Lan Zhan’s long, loose fingers. 

It’s a little bit insane, but Wei Ying thinks Lan Zhan might be asleep. 

He lifts the can of Fat Tire and shakes it gently in his hand: half of the beer is still left. Did Lan Zhan really just pass out after half a can of beer? Half a can of pretty tame beer? 

Lan Zhan’s lips are slightly parted and, as soon as they are free of the beer, his hands settle clasped together in his lap. The firelight dances across his sleep-slack face and Wei Ying can’t help but stare a little bit in wonder. 

He’s aware he should probably wake him. This cannot be what Lan Zhan expected from this night. Not that anybody has even really noticed, but it could be awkward, Wei Ying supposes, to have fallen asleep at a party surrounded by coworkers -- if Lan Zhan is still Lan Zhan and hasn’t realized that he’s One of Us yet. 

But just as Wei Ying makes the decision to stop staring and Do Something, Lan Zhan’s eyes blink open. 

He looks a little glassy. Wei Ying thinks that maybe he’s just groggy from the surprise nap he just took. But then Lan Zhan looks up at him and Wei Ying knows -- despite the composure he maintains as he rights himself in the chair, despite the perfectly stoic set to his face -- Wei Ying knows immediately that Lan Zhan is -- actually, really, in real life, somehow -- drunk. 

It’s in the subtle tilt of his body, leaning toward Wei Ying like he’s leaning into a turn. And then… and then he starts becoming… a little bit… clingy. 

It wouldn’t even be noticeable were it anyone but Lan Zhan. Just a few small touches: knees bumping together, elbows, shoulders. Lan Zhan’s full attention focused on Wei Ying. But it’s not obvious to anyone else, it seems, and it’s nice. Wei Ying is enjoying it, possibly a little more than he should. So he’s prepared to just let it ride for the time being. Let Lan Zhan be comfortable with himself for a moment. 

That is, until Shawn shows up. 

When Shawn walks out onto the patio, it’s clear to Wei Ying that he’s there with a purpose. Wei Ying can even hazard a guess to what that purpose is. He’s not surprised when Shawn spots him and nods before making a bee line for where he’s sitting with Lan Zhan. He is surprised, however, to see Lan Zhan not quite glaring at Shawn as he approaches. 

Shawn notices it too and makes a small, uncertain wave of his hand, like he’s trying to convince Lan Zhan that he comes in peace. When nothing changes, Shawn shrugs it off and squats on the other side of Wei Ying’s chair. 

Wei Ying knows what he’s going to ask, he knows why he’s getting so close to ask it. The hot chocolate machine in question is still a secret, after all. 

“It broke again?” he asks and Shawn nods. 

Shawn leans in closer, presumably to give details, and Wei Ying feels Lan Zhan’s hands close around his forearm and bicep. His head whips around so fast, he almost smacks his chin into Shawn’s cheek. Lan Zhan never initiates this kind of touch. It’s jarring and wonderful and so not the time. 

Wei Ying turns back to Shawn, schooling his face into a cool nonchalance and trying to block Lan Zhan from his view. He missed whatever details Shawn had given him, but he doubts that it really matters. 

“Yeah, man,” he says with an easy smile, “I can take a look on Monday.”

Shawn takes his cue and stands to leave. He says his thanks and grips Wei Ying’s shoulder before he goes. When he does, Wei Ying looks back to Lan Zhan and sees… well… 

Since their conversation on the chairlift, Wei Ying has noticed certain changes in Lan Zhan’s behavior. There’s been a playful undercurrent of flirtation. It’s subtle, a look from across the room or a murmured comment by the lockers. This is… not that. This is possessive. Pouty and jealous in a way that seems specifically designed to break Wei Ying into pieces. Hot and suggestive in a way that has Wei Ying’s pulse racing. 

Lan Zhan looks like he wants to crawl into Wei Ying’s lap, right now, in front of all these people. And, while Wei Ying would absolutely love that, Lan Zhan has very specifically said that he would not, so Wei Ying needs to… do something. As soon as he can get his brain back online. 

“Let’s,” says Wei Ying, giving himself a moment to think, “let’s go for a walk.”

He stands and Lan Zhan looks up at him with eyes like honey. He holds out his hand to help Lan Zhan to his feet and, though Lan Zhan takes it, the man stands with a fluidity and grace that can really only be called seductive. Wei Ying just hopes that he’s the only one to notice. Somehow he doubts that he is. 

He pulls Lan Zhan back inside and through the house back to the front door. He makes excuses as he goes but whether anyone actually buys them, he has no idea. He stops by the fridge to grab another fizzy water for Lan Zhan, waves his thanks to Diego, and gets himself and Lan Zhan back out onto the street. He’s fairly certain he manages to play off Lan Zhan’s drunken clinginess as drunken instability, but he’ll probably never know. He just hopes Nie Huaisang will help him out with that one. 

-

Wei Ying takes a deep breath as they step off the driveway. The night is cold away from the fire, but Lan Zhan is warm against his side. Their breath condenses into small clouds that waft away in the light breeze. 

They walk together down the twisting streets of Upper Biling, past houses that Wei Ying couldn’t even guess the price of, and through neighborhoods that lay almost empty for three-quarters of the year. Summer homes and winter homes to people who can afford five houses and put snow tires on their sportscars. 

While they walk, Wei Ying rambles. 

It’s easy to talk to Lan Zhan. He’s a good listener, a good friend. When he does choose to interject it’s always with something relevant and often with some new perspective that pushes Wei Ying out of his own spiral. 

Or, at least, he is when he’s sober. 

Drunk Lan Zhan still listens -- actively even, nodding and humming at appropriate intervals. But he also wanders off mid-sentence to try to climb his way to the top of a very icy snow berm. 

When Wei Ying directs him away from the potential death trap, Lan Zhan pouts again, harder. 

“Boring,” he says, and Wei Ying can’t help but laugh. 

“Oh, ‘boring,’ is it?”

Lan Zhan nods. 

Wei Ying laughs. “Is this what you secretly want to be like all the time?” he asks. “Clingy and flirty and cute?”

“I am not cute,” says Lan Zhan, sounding almost offended at the implication. 

“You are adorable.”

“No. No, I’m cold and ‘hostile.’” He says it like a quote. Like something he’s heard before. Wei Ying wants to find out who it was who said that and throw them off a mountain. 

Since that is not an option available to him, he jokes instead. “Ah, yes. So hostile, Lan Zhan.”

“People are afraid of me.” 

Which, annoyingly, is true, but, “People are idiots.”

“You’re not afraid of me?”

Wei Ying scoffs so hard he thinks he might hurt something. “I was a little afraid you were going to jump into my lap and claim me when Shawn was just trying to ask me for a favor.”

Lan Zhan looks at him and hums. It’s not dismissive or in any way negative. A smirk even starts curling in the corner of his lips. 

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” says Wei Ying. “You’re secretly possessive, too.”

“That’s not much of a secret.”

The intersection is one Wei Ying recognizes. If he’s honest, he’s maybe a little lost. But he is pretty sure that up this road is a park that he has walked to with Jiang Yanli, his sister, and Jin Ling, her son. Like eighty percent. Sixty-five. It’s fine. Lan Zhan follows him easily as he steers them toward it. 

“Oh no?”

“I’m rich. Doesn’t that automatically mean I’m possessive?”

“I think the only thing that automatically means is that you have money.”

“I don’t want it.”

“The money?”

“It’s my parents’ money. It’s still supposed to be theirs.” 

Dead parents are not a super fun topic of conversation at the best of times. At the drunk of times, the tone can get very sad very quickly, and that very much is not where Wei Ying wants this to go. Lan Zhan doesn’t need to get maudlin drunk, preferably ever. So Wei Ying deliberately brushes past that. 

“You’re twenty-six. Wouldn’t your trust fund have kicked in by now, anyway?”

“Twenty-seven.”

“Ah?”

There are swings in the park. The black rubber of them is dusted with snow, easy enough to brush off. They sit, turned toward each other still in a way that, once they start swaying a little, causes that awkward torsion in the swing. 

“It was my birthday last Sunday.”

Wei Ying’s mouth drops open. “Lan Zhan! Happy birthday! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What would you have done?”

“Whatever you wanted me to.”

“Hm… Whatever I wanted?”

Suggestive. But it’s not Wei Ying’s rules they’re following tonight. “Anything.”

Lan Zhan cocks his head to the side. “You wouldn’t have told everyone?” he asks. “Thrown a big party?”

“No,” Wei Ying laughs, “you’d hate that.”

“But I’m here, aren’t I?”

Oh. Oh no. 

Does Lan Zhan think that this is what Wei Ying wants from him? Did Lan Zhan agree to come just because he thought it would make Wei Ying happy? 

Oh fuck. 

Wei Ying stops swinging and grabs hold of the chain of Lan Zhan’s swing too, turning him, forcing their eyes to meet. 

“Lan Zhan,” he starts, “I’m not trying to change you. I just want you to see that you’re welcome here. That people like you. Not that you have to want this all the time. Just… that you can have it… when you want it.”

Lan Zhan’s eyes narrow with something that’s probably skepticism but might be genuine curiosity. He repeats Wei Ying’s words, “When I want it.”

Wei Ying nods hard and fast. And then, “Which you don’t have to! I just--” he takes his hand back and wraps it around his own swing chain. “You seemed so lonely.”

Silence settles between them. It’s not comfortable, but it’s not exactly uncomfortable, either. It just is. The kind of silence in which words are processed. Feelings are processed. Wei Ying doesn’t want to rush it, but there’s an emptiness to it that crawls under his skin. 

He pushes against the ground with one foot, swing creaking back into motion. 

“But I would never force this on you for your birthday!” He gestures vaguely in the direction he thinks the party might be. “That would be absurd.”

“Absurd?” Lan Zhan’s voice is warmer around this repetition. A genuine question, this time. 

“Yeah! Your birthday should be about you. Not anybody else. If all you wanted was to drink tea and read, then you should have that.” Wei Ying shakes his head, “I would just like to have bought you the tea.”

“What if I wanted you there?”

“Then I would be there.”

“What if I want you now?”

Wei Ying tenses. It’s not so much that Lan Zhan’s tone has shifted or his voice has changed. He still speaks with the same smooth baritone, the same stoic serenity, that he’s had all night. But it’s like the air around them charges with electricity. A chill shoots up Wei Ying’s neck. He drags his toe to slow his swing again. 

“Ah… haha. Now is a different story. You’re drunk now. After,” Wei Ying raises his eyebrows and shakes his head, still in disbelief, “half a beer...” Like that’s a thing that happens in real life. 

There’s a sound like a pine bough cracking under too much snow and then Lan Zhan is standing in front of him. His long fingers wrap around the chains on either side of Wei Ying’s head, arresting his momentum as he looms, beautiful and radiant in the soft light. His eyes are bright with intention. He’s so close, Wei Ying can feel the heat of him. 

“Ah… And because you’re drunk,” Wei Ying says very carefully, “I have to stick to guidelines as previously discussed.”

Lan Zhan doesn’t look convinced. He drops to his knees slowly, fingers dragging down the chains. The sight and sound send shivers down Wei Ying’s spine. Without asking, his thighs spread wide as Lan Zhan settles between them. The snow beneath Lan Zhan’s shins crunches and then starts to melt. 

He smiles and it’s devastating. “So you don’t want me to…”

Lan Zhan’s palms are hot on Wei Ying’s thighs, searing even through the thick denim of his jeans. Wei Ying bites his lip to keep from whining at the touch. They slide higher and higher until Wei Ying draws on all of his meager self-control and stills them. He takes a deep breath and screws his eyes shut against the stunning vision of Lan Zhan, wanton and willing, looking up at him from his knees. 

“Fuck, Lan Zhan,” he groans. “Don’t do this to me. Don’t make me the responsible one. I’m not good at it.”

He opens his eyes and that small, infuriating pout has returned to Lan Zhan’s face. Wei Ying has to take another breath before he can move. 

He grips Lan Zhan’s hands and brings them both to their feet. His arousal is obvious in his jeans and Lan Zhan definitely notices, but Wei Ying ignores it, ignores Lan Zhan’s raised eyebrow, ignores the way he licks his fucking lips. (The man is a menace, truly.) 

Wei Ying clears his throat against the lust threatening to choke him. He walks Lan Zhan back over to the other swing and gets him sitting down on the cold rubber again. He moves behind him so he doesn’t have to meet Lan Zhan’s eyes, wraps Lan Zhan’s hands around the chains, fingers lingering longer than strictly necessary, then starts pushing him. 

The motion is good, distracting. Something to do that doesn’t involve actively ignoring the heat in Lan Zhan’s gaze, the pout on his lips. If he holds Lan Zhan’s waist a little too tight, nobody else needs to know. 

When Wei Ying regains control of his body, he lets himself chuckle a little. “You’re probably not even going to remember this in the morning, are you?” he says, watching his breath condense. 

Lan Zhan just shrugs and hums a non-committal sound. 

Wei Ying rolls his eyes and says, “I bet you only had one shot at your twenty-first.”

The night is quiet except for the metallic scrape of the swing as Wei Ying pushes Lan Zhan in an easy rhythm. He tries not to think about other rhythmic activities and to focus, instead, on the cold air biting his cheeks and on keeping Lan Zhan upright on the little plastic seat. 

The cold is good. Sobering. Wei Ying breathes it into his lungs and lets it soothe him. There’s woodsmoke in the air, too, from somebody’s fireplace or backyard pit. 

He looks down at Lan Zhan who is listing to the side like he’s falling asleep. His jeans are wet-dark around the knees and down his shins and Wei Ying realizes that he needs to get Lan Zhan inside somewhere before he freezes or becomes too tired to walk. Wei Ying is strong, but he’s not sure he can carry a passed out Lan Zhan up Northwoods Blvd. Or down Northwoods, to be honest. 

Wei Ying still doesn’t remember how to get back to the Peruvians’ house from here, but he does recognize this park as the one he’s visited with his sister and nephew. Jiang Yanli’s house is actually fairly close and Wei Ying is pretty sure he knows the way. 

Lan Zhan is pliant and amenable when Wei Ying asks him to stand. He’s still listing to the side so Wei Ying gets an arm around his waist and tries to think about anything but the press of Lan Zhan’s body against his own. It turns out to be easier than he thought because the worry takes over. Lan Zhan is cold. He’s leaning hard into Wei Ying’s side and even if he is playing it up a little -- as Wei Ying suspects he might be -- he still needs to get to a bed soon. 

It’s only about four blocks to Jiang Yanli’s house from the little park. Wei Ying sees her mailbox sooner than he expects and points it out to Lan Zhan. Wei Ying and Jin Ling painted the little silver and gold stars on it together. 

Lan Zhan smiles at them and Wei Ying’s knees buckle, which is sweet, but they’re about to climb the driveway and Lan Zhan still requires support so Wei Ying really has to pull himself together. 

Jiang Yanli’s house is huge. Wei Ying always kind of forgets until he’s standing in front of it, but it’s an obscenely large house. The driveway climbs almost fifty vertical feet from the street and the house rises two stories from there. Hidden from street view, the back of the house drops another two stories down the side of the mountain with a wooden deck that gets near-panoramic views of the valley. Floor to ceiling windows in the living room. High, vaulted ceilings. All pine and granite. A fucking elevator. 

It’s way too big for a single family but Jiang Yanli married Jin Zixuan, scion of the Gold Peony Resort Jins. A family that owns hotels and golf courses in three countries. Jin Zixuan, himself, owns the Lanling Golf Course in Caiyi Town. 

Bad enough he’s a golfer, but Jin Zixuan was a real jerk to Jiang Yanli when they were teenagers and Wei Ying has never forgiven him for it. He can admit, however, that he’s treated her well since he managed to get his shit together and ask her out properly. They’ve been married for more than five years now. It’s fine. 

He texts Jiang Yanli instead of ringing the doorbell because children have bedtimes, Wei Ying, and it’s like 11pm and that seems awfully late for a four-year-old to be awake. Lan Zhan curls closer into Wei Ying’s arms as they stand in front of the door and wait. 

Jiang Yanli doesn’t text back but Wei Ying can hear movement inside the house and sees a light turn on inside before the porch light attempts to blind him, and she opens the door in her slippers, a pair of sweats, and what Wei Ying assumes is Jin Zixuan’s high school mascot t-shirt. (A wolverine, he thinks.) 

“A’Ying?”

Her voice is thick with sleep and guilt churns his stomach until he remembers that he’s not really here for himself. 

“I’m so sorry, Yanli-jie,” says Wei Ying, “I know it’s late, I just didn’t know where else to go and hypothermia was becoming a concern.”

Jiang Yanli’s eyes go wide and she takes in the man who may or may not be asleep on his feet in Wei Ying’s arms. “Is he okay?”

“Oh, he’s fine!” Wei Ying says, quick to reassure her but still trying to keep his voice down. “He’s fine. Just drunk. And a massive lightweight. Seriously, I’m never going to let him live this down.”

It’s then that Jin Zixuan pokes his head around his wife’s shoulder, eyes squinting against the (really, incredibly bright) porch light.

“Lan Zhan?” he asks, recognition and concern screwing up his face. 

“Okay…” says Wei Ying, looking to his sister. “Why does your husband know my boss?”

Jin Zixuan, not as useless as one might be tempted to think, steps out and gets his arm around the other side of Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan wakes up at the new contact but seems to recognize him and allows this so, together, the three of them start moving toward the guest bedroom, following Jiang Yanli down the stairs. 

“We were rich kids on the high school downhill team together,” says Jin Zixuan, and Wei Ying struggles not to laugh.

“See,” he says, “that’s the kind of thing I would have guessed, but I would have done it in a mocking way. You just said that with so much aplomb that I can’t even make fun of you for it now.”

“Oh great, he’s using words like ‘aplomb.’”

Wei Ying can’t actually see Jin Zixuan in their current configuration, but he knows an eye roll when he hears one. 

“Shut up, I’m more literate than you are, Business Degree.”

“A’Ying,” Jiang Yanli chides from below them. 

“Sorry, Jie.”

They settle Lan Zhan on the guest bed which, because Jiang Yanli is a real adult, is a real bed with a real comforter and far too many useless pillows. Wei Ying kneels to take off Lan Zhan’s shoes which, along with his own, have tracked road dirt and snow all through Jiang Yanli’s beautiful house. Lan Zhan is no help in this, but he does, to Wei Ying’s great relief, agree to take off his own pants. 

Wei Ying gets him tucked under the covers and Lan Zhan falls asleep almost immediately. 

Wei Ying sets a glass of water on the nightstand. He fishes Lan Zhan’s phone out of his jeans and sets it next to the glass along with a pair of ibuprofen tablets. He has no idea if Lan Zhan gets hangovers or not -- if someone can even get a hangover from half a beer -- but better to be prepared. 

Wei Ying takes off his own shoes and carries them with him as he goes to meet his sister and her husband out in the kitchen. He sets them by the door, next to Lan Zhan’s. He tries not to think about his and Lan Zhan’s shoes together in his sister’s shoe rack, like they’re dinner guests or visiting on purpose rather than too drunk and too lost to find their way back to the car. 

In the kitchen, Jiang Yanli has a kettle on the stove already and is plating what looks like rice cooker bread, because she is a literal angel. Jin Zixuan is sitting at the counter helping her sort through their many teas. Wei Ying does have to admit that he is a very good husband. Golf course or not. 

“Oh no,” says Wei Ying, eyes widening with a startling realization as he sits on the counter next to his sister and looks imploringly at Jin Zixuan, “please don’t tell me he golfs. I like him too much to stop now.” 

It’s a joke (mostly) that Wei Ying hates golf. And golfers. Environmental concerns aside (which they really shouldn’t be), it’s a mind-numbingly boring sport. Wei Ying loves to poke at Jin Zixuan with this particular stick whenever it comes up.

Jin Zixuan huffs. “Why would--? Nevermind. He does not golf. You’re safe.”

“Oh, thank god,” says Wei Ying with an exaggerated sigh. He turns to cover up the even more startling realization that he would probably still like Lan Zhan even if he did… occasionally golf. Wei Ying elects to keep that to himself.

The bread melts in his mouth. It’s so delicious that his eyes actually close on their own. She’s a goddess, his sister. 

Even though it’s clear that Wei Ying pulled them out of bed, both Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan stay up with him for a little while as he finishes the bread that keeps appearing on his plate and the water that keeps refilling itself in his glass. 

“I’m fine, Yanli-jie. I only had two beers. It’s Lan Zhan I’m worried about.” 

Which, unfortunately, prompts a conversation about why he and his boss were wandering around Upper Biling together while drunk -- “Not drunk!” -- and courting hypothermia. 

Wei Ying is not subtle in his diversion as he directs the line of questioning away from how he feels about Lan Zhan. How Lan Zhan feels about him. It’s not-- It’s not the time for that talk. Not now. Not when Jiang Yanli is stifling yawns behind her hand and Jin Zixuan is still right there for some reason. 

If they were friends, though, Wei Ying does have a question for him. 

“Were you at his twenty-first?”

Jin Zixuan nods, looking uncomfortable at where this might be going, but still answers, “I was.”

“It was only one shot, wasn’t it?”

There’s a pause, and then Jin Zixuan sighs and nods again, “It was.”

[aurorangen]

Nothing better than some gaming after spending hours studying 🎮

[cultivating-wildflowers]

the face of a cat who just spent twenty minutes harassing everyone and has zero remorse for her behavior

[aeolianblues]

'oh I cannot say horrible things because of the Woke' well boo hoo, I cannot say mean things about bands I dislike because they love my show and will beat me up if I slag them off