#now when something funny happens in the book | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

perpetualcontrolleddrowning · 1 day ago

Text

Moshang Fic - Part 1

half of something else

JRaylin441

Summary: Tianlang-Jun comes to visit the Northern Desert Palace. Tianlang-Jun is very bored. Tianlang-Jun finds a way to entertain himself.

Written for: Gotcha for Gaza prompt "on behalf of gusufan please tag them! I would like a post-canon Moshang get together fic. sfw or nsfw doesn't matter :)" from boomfanfic

Content Warnings: None for this chapter (that I know of), but it will be explicit in future

Read it on ao3 here (x)

Tianlang-Jun arrives at the Northern Palace on a beautiful and perfect summer day, which is funny, because he's about to ruin Shang Qinghua's whole life.

Shang Qinghua has an Overarching To Do List that is ever-evolving and extensive. There are arrangements to be made, banquets to organize, appropriate guest rooms to appoint. There is color-coding. There are sublists on sublists, organized by immediacy and location within the Demon Realm or Cultivation Sects and a thousand other subheadings that only Shang Qinghua is able to fully track.

When someone like Tianlang-Jun arrives, it has to jump to the top of the priority list. This is the father of Luo Binghe, one of the only full-blooded Heavenly Demons left alive, and initially created to be the only person capable of challenging Shang Qinghua's son in a fight, at his full power. Bing-ge is fairly easy to deal with, these days, now that Cucumber-bro has come along and turned him into an eager little tradwife. There isn't really a need for him to have some arch-nemesis/father in the world.

Which leaves Tianlang-Jun, local chaotic neutral god-level demon, just wandering around without a purpose or plot hook. He can do things like arrive, unannounced, in a Demon king's court and expect to be welcomed. Maybe he will be kind and perfectly accepting of the fact that he has to wait for several minutes for things to go his way. Maybe he will kill every demon in the palace out of boredom, like a toddler with a tantrum.

It was fun to write characters like this when it was just in a book! They keep things interesting! They're helpful when he needs something to happen and can't figure out how to motivate his characters to do it! They're way less fun to deal with when Shang Qinghua has somehow become the person in charge of managing the logistics and fallout of those interactions, in both the human and demon realms. Because, apparently, no one else is masochistic enough to want a job like that.

This is not the kind of masochism he enjoys! If he thought it would make any difference, he would be taking a baseball bat to the System's smug little screen right now!

"This King welcomes Tianlang-Jun to the Northern Desert Palace and hopes that he will stay as a welcome guest for as long as he wishes."

"This humble one is honored to accept your hospitality."

Shang Qinghua skids into the throne room with what feels like a cartoon dust cloud behind him. Mobei-Jun is only now wrapping up the grandiose and official greeting of Tianlang-Jun before the whole court, because he is a very good boy who has been trained well by his closest advisor and knows how to stall for time when Shang Qinghua tells him to.

They are engaging in shallow salutes toward each other, since it's a little unclear exactly what Tianlang-Jun's ranking is now, as someone who could wipe the floor with Mobei-Jun, someone who had a long-standing alliance with the Mobei clan before he was imprisoned under a mountain for two and a half decades, someone who no longer has any official titles.

Shang Qinghua, of course, ranks leagues below either of them, and drops into a low salute as soon as his feet have found purchase in their place to the side of Mobei-Jun's throne. He can feel dark red eyes (why did he think that was a good color for a protagonist's eyes? Why did he need to give that eye color to the badass big bad demon??? They're terrifying!) lingering on him for a moment, evaluating him before easily moving on, just as every other powerful person in this world tends to do when confronted with his trembling mousiness. It is often very convenient to be overlooked, and Shang Qinghua never (really, never ever) feels bitter about the fact that, in a world where literally everyone around him is a badass (he knows they are, he wrote them that way), he gets stuck in this body.

"My servants have prepared our finest rooms for you." Bold of Mobei-Jun to go ahead and make that claim when Tianlang-Jun arrived not a quarter shichen ago. Sure, yeah, just assume that Shang Qinghua has it all together and handled. Everyone else does. "Please do not hesitate to reach out to my advisor, Shang Qinghua, should Tianlang-Jun find himself in need of anything." Shang Qinghua taught him that customer-service line, back when Mobei-Jun was more wont to stare in stony silence at any visitor to his court. He has no right to be this irritated about all the work still being foisted off onto him now. He sowed these seeds. He's reaping now. He reminds himself of this and does not allow his hands to clench into fists. Not in public like this. There is a ticking knot in the muscle behind his shoulder blade, instead, that is winching ever tighter and more painful. This has been true for many years.

Tianlang-Jun's eyes pass over him again, another assessment, now that Shang Qinghua has been shown to hold such a high rank. This is normal too. Shang Qinghua likes that they underestimate him. It makes his job easier.

"If Tianlang-Jun would honor this lowly one by following him, this Shang Qinghua will show him to his rooms."

"Of course," Tianlang-Jun replies, jovially, as if he has run into an old friend on a walk rather than arrived unannounced to another demon lord's court. Shang Qinghua feels himself cringing at the blatant character trope of it all, the lackadaisical OP demon lord. Fuck you, past version of Shang Qinghua. There is no excuse in not knowing that your actions would have consequences.

He cringes and he grovels and he guides Tianlang-Jun to the rooms that he and every member of Mobei-Jun's staff that wasn't already in court for the greeting just dropped everything to put together. They look spotless and prepared in the same way they would if this had been a pre-planned dignitary visit, because Shang Qinghua is fucking good at his job, not that anyone notices.

"Before you go, Qinghua," Tianlang-Jun calls, already calling him in a way that is far too familiar with nothing to be done about it. "Are there any human novels in this palace? I have fallen out of the practice of reading with my imprisonment, but would not mind a chance to rediscover an old hobby."

"Of course, Tianlang-Jun," Shang Qinghua murmurs, bowing low enough that his nose could almost scrape the ground. "This one will obey."

He backs out of the room without rising from his bow, feeling the panic of this new task settle in the shaking of his bones, into the knot in his shoulder, alongside all the rest of his endless Overarching To Do List. Sure. Yeah, he'll get right on that. Because of course this is the best use of his time. The smile on his face is a rictus of customer service.

As soon as Shang Qinghua is out in the hallway and away from the range of heavenly demonic hearing, he grabs the first demon that respects any of his orders by their collar and sends them to start arranging a greeting banquet for that night. He grabs another and sends them along to rearrange the schedule for court the next day, since they were actually planning to receive some dignitaries tomorrow and will need to shift them to later in the day so as to not disrespect their new guest. He doesn't pick a demon to go and update his tracking of Tianlang-Jun's location, since no one else in this palace is supposed to know about that. He doesn't pick a demon to go and get the novels either, because he doesn't trust a single demon in this realm to know what the best options for human literature are and, unfortunately, he knows exactly the sort of thing that Tianlang-Jun would enjoy.

Because he wrote him.

*~*~*

Mobei-Jun does not enjoy banquets. It is easier, now that he is king and has no further aspirations for promotion, because he no longer has to spend his time doing something Qinghua calls "net-working" and can generally sit in stoic silence. Even so, he would prefer to dine in his own quarters, with Qinghua nervously chattering at length about all he has done and still has to do that day.

The food is prepared in the traditional demonic way. Qinghua does not like the raw meat, or the carnivorous diet of many in the court. Mobei-Jun spent an hour in the kitchens prior to this preparing hand-pulled noodles for him, so that he will have something to eat as well. He had captured and killed the beast used for the meat in the noodle dish the day before, also for Qinghua. He had not shown much of a reaction, when the prize was presented to him. Merely gestured for Mobei-Jun to hand it off to a servant to be butchered.

When the banquet begins, he gestures to one of the servants to bring the noodle dish from the kitchen out to Qinghua. No one dares to disobey when it comes to Qinghua's happiness. They know better.

When the steaming noodle dish is placed before him, Qinghua looks down at it in surprise before taking a darting glance in Mobei-Jun's direction. It is good, that he knows so immediately who is taking the time to cook for him. All things are as they should be.

"The honorable Mobei-Jun had no need to go through such trouble for me." Ah. All things are as they should be, except for the lounging heavenly demon seated to his side. Mobei-Jun hates when he must entertain guests, particularly ones that are powerful enough to defeat him in combat. When Junshang is visiting, it is not so bad, because he has known Mobei-Jun long enough to not be surprised by his silence. Also, he is usually so preoccupied with his human consort that there is no need to entertain him either way.

"You are a guest." This is what is expected, when an important guest arrives. It would not be happening, otherwise.

"This lord cannot help but notice that the human in your court seems to be well integrated." Tianlang-Jun is tilting his head in Qinghua's direction, as if there could be any other human he is referring to.

"Yes." Mobei-Jun responds, even though he does not want to talk to this demon about Qinghua, because Qinghua will be upset if he offends their guest this early into his visit.

"I cannot help but notice that someone has been cooking for him. Is there a demon in your court attempting to lay claim, then?"

Damn it all, actually. Mobei-Jun no longer cares about whether he might upset the guest. He curls his upper lip into a snarl before Tianlang-Jun allows any thought of that variety to linger in his head. There is a sudden shift in Tianlang-Jun's body language. One of his eyebrows flies up, and he suddenly seems much more interested in the conversation. Over at his table, Qinghua shoots a sharp and reproving glance in Mobei-Jun's direction, like he does every time he thinks Mobei-Jun might be making more work for him.

"Oh? It could not be that the Mobei-Jun, heir of the family that so publicly opposed my very interest in the human realm, has gone and started to court a human."

"Qinghua is none of your concern," Mobei-Jun grits out stiffly. Because Qinghua will be sad if he causes a political incident and he is holding on to his temper by nature of that fact alone. "This king would recommend that Tianlang-Jun decide on some other topic of conversation."

"Of course, Mobei-Jun. How can this guest do anything but comply?" But Mobei-Jun knows the glint of interest that he is still seeing in those dark eyes. He made a mistake, somewhere in that conversation. He doesn't know where. But he has drawn Tianlang-Jun's attention to Qinghua. This cannot stand.

"Qinghua is my advisor and a member of my court." The longer he is talking, the more smugly entertained this infuriating demon looks. "Tianlang-Jun has no reason for Qinghua to cross his mind."

A smile like a young child coming across an undefended table of sweets and delicacies. "I thought Mobei-Jun instructed me to direct any of my concerns or requests toward his advisor."

"No need. Tell a servant instead. They will tell Qinghua."

"That seems rather inefficient." Tianlang-Jun takes a slow and mocking drink of his wine, eyes laughing at Mobei-Jun over the rim. "Surely your advisor would prefer a more direct approach?"

The goblet in Mobei-Jun's hand groans under the pressure of his grip. "If Tianlang-Jun needs something, he should simply come to me and ask." The words are hissed out between teeth that will barely part to let them pass.

"Ah. An elegant solution. Truly, the king of the Northern Desert is peerless in his wisdom."

Mobei-Jun is being laughed at. He knows this feeling. He would grab Tianlang-Jun by the throat and throw him across the room if it wouldn't lead to him making a fool of himself in front of Qinghua. So, instead, he throws back the drink and studiously ignores any other attempts at conversation from the guest at his side. Let Qinghua be angry with him for not being the perfect diplomatic host. It is better than anything else he might have done.

*~*~*

Shang Qinghua is tired in the body-tired type of way, but not in the brain-tired type of way. The banquet ended hours ago, and the rest of the court has retreated to their beds for now, whether to fall asleep or to hook up with whoever they want. Good for them, good for them. The vigor of demonic youth.

That is not what is keeping him awake, however. Fuck no. It's been years since he's had a chance to bump uglies (as they say) with anyone. Shang Qinghua has an enormous and ever-growing Overarching To Do List. This is known. He also has his daily to do list that he draws from the points on the Overarching To Do List. He was doing an okay job getting through it before that deadbeat dad on a world tour had to show up and throw everything off, so now he's up hours past when everyone else went to sleep, like some kind of gamer bro, scrambling to check this month's inventory for Cang Qiong Mountain Peak against last months, to make sure there aren't any far less clever people skimming off the top. So far, it looks like a few of the Zui Xian disciples have been taking more than they said they would, but that's typical for them and not beyond the normal amounts, so he's not particularly worried.

Shang Qinghua is just setting those documents aside, moving into his next task (updating the map that he keeps of the movements of important figures based on the reports of this person and that person), when he hears the door to his office open.

No knock. No nothing. Is he some teenager still living at his parents' house? What's this entitlement and complete lack of privacy?

"I have always found it quaint, all the busy papers and documents that make up a human's day." Fuck. Tianlang-Jun. Not the sort of person that Shang Qinghua can order to leave.

"My lord Tianlang-Jun," he greets, shakily, standing for a quick salute and dropping the inventory paper over his map. The motherfucker. As if he didn't just ask Shang Qinghua for human books when he arrived. Papers and books aren't, actually, a unique human thing.

Much of demonic writing happens with an elaborate system of knots tied into thread, since there is so much variation in demonic hand structure, and tying knots is more accessible than holding a writing utensil. Learning how to write with a brush and paper had been a sign of status, because it meant that you might be interacting with the human realm. He'd thought it was a clever world-building detail. And it's not that humans spend more time than demons on their record keeping. More that, when Tianlang-Jun was emperor, he had been absent more often than not and had actively thwarted the efforts of his court to keep strategic records and reports. It had been part of what led to his downfall, leaving him to fight back entirely alone against so many sects. It had left his lands in chaos and disorganization, the easier for Shang Qinghua's son to sweep through and conquer.

Also, well, Shang Qinghua had never found too much pleasure in balancing all the little moving parts of writing political intrigue. Better to just have a good reason such structure was lacking and stop worrying about it.

"Forgive this humble human the wanderings of his mind." Shang Qinghua shuffles the map that he was making adjustments to further out of sight, even as he watches Tianlang-Jun's sharp eyes pick up on the movement. "How can this one be of service to the great Tianlang-Jun?"

"I couldn't help but appreciate the wonderful selection of novels provided to my rooms." Tianlang-Jun's movements are slinking and feline, as he maneuvers his way just a little too closely into Shang Qinghua's space. "I thought it might be worth my while to meet the human capable of selecting such things. Perhaps we may have some things in common." Tianlang-Jun has a tell when he's lying. There's a little twitch right at the corner of his smile, for just a second. No one ever noticed it. Even if they had, no one would have ever pointed it out to him or told someone else, because no one would ever dare. Shang Qinghua knows that he is lying right now, because he knows the tell, because he wrote this character. This was supposed to be his Big Bad, before the computer crashed and the outline fell to pieces and everything else went to shit.

"Perhaps Tianlang-Jun would like a recommendation for a companion more fitting to his status, who may also enjoy to discuss such things with him?" Shang Qinghua needs this man to leave. He has to get up in just a few hours to help prepare for court again, and he still has several things on today's list. Please, please, please just take the hint and leave.

"Oh?" Head tilted to the side. A fox, rather than a cat. "Is Shang Qinghua spoken for, then? This Tianlang-Jun had hoped to befriend him, but it seems as though some other demon has laid a claim."

"What?" Shang Qinghua sputters, because there are about seventeen things about that one small sentence that he needs to question and it's knocking some of the fear and hesitance right out of him. "Surely Tianlang-Jun has others he would find more suitable to befriend." Befriend??? This is the Big Bad! What is he even doing in here?

Tianlang-Jun seems quite aware of Shang Qinghua's panic and distress, and yet utterly unmoved. He makes his way over to the desk that Shang Qinghua was using and sits down on the surface, right atop the papers, patting against his own thighs and smiling with all the guile of a newborn baby.

"I think that you will find that I have quite a history of befriending people that others may not see as suitable." Tianlang-Jun reaches over, swipes up the cup of tea that Shang Qinghua poured himself several hours ago and immediately forgot about. The previous emperor of the Southern demon tribes takes one delicate sip, wrinkles his nose in disgust, and then sets it back down. "Entertain me, Qinghua. I want to hear all about this life that a human built among demons. At the throne of Mobei-Jun, no less."

Oh. That makes more sense, then. The scandalized, gossiping note in his voice, when he talks about Mobei-Jun. The sudden and more-intense-than-it-should-be interest. Shang Qinghua can never escape the time honored tradition of a queer-coded villain, apparently. It happens when he's writing, even if he doesn't mean to do it. And this would make sense, as a power grab without having to do any of the actual work, which is the part that Tianlang-Jun always hated anyway. Marrying Mobei-Jun would be a pretty little solution.

"This one is hardly as important as all that." As if Shang Qinghua is ever going to allow this man to end up with Mobei-Jun. It would be a terrible match, neither one of them making the other happy. And, well, Mobei-Jun has always his favorite. He deserves something better than a miserable marriage. "This lowly one would be happy to tell Tianlang-Jun anything he is curious about, but it would hardly be anything worth hearing. This one is rarely granted the honor of speaking with Mobei-Jun." Tianlang-Jun is too powerful and unpredictable to piss off, so he can't exactly say no, but he's certainly not going to make it easy.

"Oh, this lowly one, huh?" Tianlang-Jun clicks his tongue in a chiding, condescending manner. Bitch. "No need to stand on such formalities. We're friends now, Qinghua. Come, sit with me. Tell me about yourself. Tell me about all the ways that human literature has advanced in the past few decades."

And, well, that's a direct order. For all that Shang Qinghua lectures Mobei-Jun about being a good diplomat, he can hardly do anything but obey. For all that Shang Qinghua shit talks people in his head or in his interactions with Cucumber-Bro, he is and will forever be a coward. He walks over to the small sitting area in the corner of the room, where he has covered all four of the chairs with some mishmash of maps and paperwork and empty bowls of noodles. The servants likely would have cleaned it up if they weren't forbidden from moving anything in the room.

Tianlang-Jun follows him, gleeful as a child and with the power of a nuclear bomb behind him. He stands off the to side, entirely unhelpful, as Shang Qinghua shoves several piles of detritus to the floor and beats furiously at the seat cushions to try and remove some of the dust. When one is clear, Tianlang-Jun slinks over and perches upon it like a throne.

"Now, isn't that better?" Tianlang-Jun seems to have brought the cold cup of Shang Qinghua's tea with him, and is continuing to sip from it, despite the level to which it is clearly grossing him out. "Tell me about books, if you're so reluctant to speak about your king."

They talk. It should be terrifying, speaking with a Heavenly Demon like this, someone so unpredictable. And it is, in a way. Shang Qinghua is shitting himself, and he can feel the way all of his limbs have locked up in trembling panic. Tianlang-Jun, though, was written to be a charming and charismatic villain, the kind of character that you can't help but like, even when he's clearly committing all sorts of atrocities. And so, somehow, despite it all, Shang Qinghua kind of likes him. Tianlang-Jun is quick and clever and very invested in learning about the terrible plots of terrible romance books that are starting to really pick up steam in this world after The Resentment of Chunshan.

"See? We're friends now. Tell me about my friend, Qinghua. How did a human come to be such an integral member of Mobei-Jun's court? An advisor, at that?"

Shang Qinghua talks him in circles, barely talking about Mobei-Jun at all, because he can make a new friend while still sticking to the original goal. Every time it drifts close to talk of Shang Qinghua's king, he can see the light in Tianlang-Jun's eyes, the leaning forward in sudden rapt interest, and it's not hard to remember to change the subject.

It would be easier, however, if his entire life didn't seem to revolve around Mobei-Jun, at this point. There's really very little that Shang Qinghua can talk about that doesn't tie back to him in some way. This is not because of his pathetic little crush, either. It's simply because he has made himself into an essential member of the court and because he lives at his place of work. Obviously, his life would revolve around his boss, in a situation like that. The pathetic-crush-maybe-love is entirely separate from that.

As the night wears on into the wee small hours of the morning, Shang Qinghua is furious to realize that he could actually see himself becoming friends with Tianlang-Jun. It's lucky, though, because the dropping formality and increased comfort eventually reaches a point where Shang Qinghua is finally comfortable pushing a new novel into Tianlang-Jun's hands and shoving him out the door to his quarters. Shang Qinghua can cross off the one or two essential things left on his list for today, and move all the other still-important-but-less-immediately-pressing tasks to the list for tomorrow.

He crashes into a few snatched hours of sleep, reeling from all the details that will be waiting for him when he wakes up.

*~*~*

"I see why you like him so much."

Mobei-Jun does not respond. That voice could be talking to anyone. He refuses to acknowledge it until it has made it impossible to do otherwise. Qinghua should be grovelling at his feet in thanks, at the effort he is putting into diplomacy.

"Your little human pet. We had such a lovely talk late last night. He has such taste in literature, don't you think?" Mobei-Jun is not looking at Tianlang-Jun, even as he lounges beside him as an honored guest at court. He is not looking because it's impossible to know if Tianlang-Jun is even talking to him. He will not look, because if he looks then he will lunge at Tianlang-Jun teeth-first, and he is behaving himself. "And such a fire in him! I will admit, Mobei-Jun, I didn't see it at first. He seems so nervous and jittery all the time. But there really is a brilliant mind in there, isn't there? And he's got a spine, if you push him far enough."

The doors to the court open, and Tianlang-Jun falls silent, thank the gods. Mobei-Jun is one of the only creatures on this earth that has the opportunity to know those truths about Qinghua, past the mask that so many others see. Perhaps Tianlang-Jun is only taunting him but, if so, then it is a very lucky guess.

Mobei-Jun rules for the next petitioner to be sentenced to death. He doesn't even know what they came in for.

As the court watches the crying demon be dragged from the room, Mobei-Jun sees the accursed image of Tianlang-Jun, lounging in his seat with a smirk, in his peripheral vision.

"Someone like that is truly worth knowing, wouldn't you say? Worth keeping on your side. I think I may take up a friendship with Qinghua. He seems like the sort of man who would enjoy exchanging letters."

And that is the last straw.

There is no warning, when Mobei-Jun lunges. He slips into the shadow of his throne and appears, teeth and claws first, behind where Tianlang-Jun has the nerve to lounge. Speaking of writing letters to Qinghua. Calling him by that name. Mobei-Jun is going to kill him where he stands.

Tianlang-Jun isn't surprised. He meets him blow for blow, even as Mobei-Jun tackles him down off the dais and they begin to duel in the center of the court. The demon nobles stand in quiet observation, not interfering for either side. They are nothing. Mobei-Jun draws the sword at his side, lunging forward with the speed and strength he has developed over years of sparring with Luo Binghe, on top of a lifetime in a family that wanted him dead. Tianlang-Jun dances gracefully out of the way. He laughs as he does. It sends icy fury hurtling through Mobei-Jun's bloodstream.

The fight is brief and brutal. For every blow that Mobei-Jun lands, Tianlang-Jun lands three. He is faster, and stronger, and older. What does it matter, that Mobei-Jun will lose? That is not the point. How could he respond in any way but this, when Tianlang-Jun has so blatantly flaunted his claim to the man he is courting?

A blow to the side of the head, and Mobei-Jun sees his blood on the ground. A blow to Tianlang-Jun's arm, and his blood forms into a wickedly sharp blade that he wields more effectively than claws and teeth.

Mobei-Jun is losing. He is losing, and Tianlang-Jun does not do him the dignity of making his next charade subtle. Perhaps, to the nobles, already losing interest in the fight, it is difficult to see. Here, in the midst of the fight, it is glaringly obvious when Tianlang-Jun allows several of Mobei-Jun's hits to land in a row. Even more obvious when he winks and then drops to a knee, bowing his head before Mobei-Jun's strike, fully confident that he will not allow it to land.

Mobei-Jun does not allow it to land. Because Qinghua would be upset.

"This Tianlang-Jun apologizes for any offense he may have caused his host, the venerable Mobei-Jun. Please, accept this one's deepest regret and honest surrender to the martial prowess of one such as Mobei-Jun."

He is laying it on thick. He is smirking throughout the entire declaration. Mobei-Jun does not dignify it with a response. He grunts in some vague acknowledgement and strides out of the greeting hall before he does something like throw away his entire kingdom for the chance to tear out Tianlang-Jun's throat.

Let him try to take Qinghua. A man like this is not at all to Qinghua's taste, and has none of the sort of shared history that he has with Mobei-Jun. Tianlang-Jun can throw himself against the brick wall of Qinghua's regard all that he desires. It will make no difference. He will not find a way into Qinghua's heart.

Mobei-Jun hasn't, and he has been trying for years.

*~*~*

By the time Shang Qinghua makes it back to his office for the evening, he is about ready to hunt his king down and throttle him. Sure, go right ahead, pick a fight with the most powerful demon in the court in the middle of the court where everyone can see and then leave court early. Surely someone else can take care of all the day's petitioners. Surely someone else can greet the dignitaries from the Fox Clan.

Of course. Shang Qinghua will just shift around his daily to do list, again, and make that happen. Who cares if it means that he needs to send the head servant to oversee the preparation of the greeting banquet for tomorrow, and fuck if that imbecile will do any of it right. He'll make it too garish or, even worse, make it grander than the welcome banquet they held yesterday, and cause a diplomatic incident that way. Most likely, Shang Qinghua is going to have to head over there tomorrow morning and undo everything the head servant did, which means another item on his to do list.

When he returns to his office, there is a pile of mail waiting for him, because there's a fucking spawn point above his desk and new tasks arrive every time he dares to step away. This is always the first part of his routine in the evening: going through all the mail in order of oldest to newest and checking to see which part of the Overarching To Do List it needs to be added to.

There are, thank fucking god, very few unexpected things in this pile of mail. Shang Qinghua moves a few tracking symbols around on his map of VIPs, and takes the time to jot a few points down on his to do lists for various regions. There are some items to add into next months budget for the Northern Desert and a few requests for night hunt services that will need to be passed on. Nothing too unusual, until he gets to the two most recent pieces of mail.

Qinghua,

I so enjoyed our conversation last night. Your insight into the motivations of the characters inBreathless Wishwere truly correct on every point. A mind like yours is one that I am eager to befriend.

Here's to many more nighttime conversations.

Tianlang-Jun :)

Shang Qinghua stares at the smiley face at the end for too long. This is what he gets. This is what he gets for watching too much shonen anime right before starting to outline this part of his story. He has no one to blame but himself, for this chaotic cool-guy stalker vibe that Tianlang-Jun is bringing to the villain role.

Shang Qinghua does not know what to do with this letter, but there is nothing about it that needs to be added to the Overarching To Do List. He sets it to the side so he can start to forget about it (after taking out the color-coded cheat sheet for the tracking map of VIPs and adding a new colored dot next to Tianlang-Jun's name).

The next letter is even more confusing.

Truly, Shang Qinghua stares down at the envelope for almost a full minute before moving.

It is folded on impressive, expensive cream paper. His name is written across the front, in a handwriting that would be impossible not to recognize, after all the time he has spent managing documentation for its owner.

Qinghua, it reads.

Tianlang-Jun provoked the fight today. There will likely be people who are unhappy.

I don't like him here. Make him leave.

There is no signature line. Shang Qinghua is going to kill him. He is going to go back in time and not save his life, back when they first met. That would have made every other part of his life so much easier. Fucking hindsight.

Fucking. Sure. He'll just go ahead and kick the most powerful demon they know out of the palace, then. Him, Shang Qinhua, the only human here. A cultivator too! Don't forget that part! A cultivator, you know, like the cultivators that imprisoned him under a mountain for decades and killed the woman he was in love with? Surely, there couldn't possibly be any flaws in this plan.

"Is that all he wrote? That's pathetic." The voice is from right over Shang Qinghua's shoulder, and he screams and whirls around, throwing the letter with all his might, only for it to flop harmlessly against Tianlang-Jun's chest and fall to the floor. "Hello Qinghua. I need to teach your king how to write sweet nothings as well, apparently."

Right. This asshole. Trying to seduce Mobei-Jun by doing ridiculous things like, apparently, starting a fight with him in front of the entire court and then reading letters to try and figure out how his actions were received.

"Tianlang-Jun." Shang Qinghua dips into a low salute, because he needs a second to get his fucking face together and also because he doesn't want to fucking die. "How can this humble one be of service?"

"None of that, I thought we already talked about this. No need for the formalities." Tianlang-Jun reaches past Shang Qinghua and steals his tea again before sauntering over to the sitting area where they spent their time yesterday. "I was just bored and wanted to talk to my friend. You're not busy, are you?" He's standing in front of the chair he sat in last night, because it's already accumulated new clutter and apparently his arms are still going to fucking fall off or something if he deigns to do any kind of physical labor.

"Of course I have time." Shang Qinghua gives one last, longing glance toward The Overarching To Do List and makes his way over to clear off the fucking chair. Make way, everyone. Shang Qinghua, the only fucking person capable of doing any work around here is finally here. What else can he do for you?

Tianlang-Jun drapes himself across the chair like an expensive throw and takes a languorous sip of Shang Qinghua's tea. When he tastes it, and the liquor Shang Qinghua had treated himself to spiking it with, his bros shoot up and a delighted smile spreads across his face.

"Ah, Qinghua, I had no idea you enjoyed this sort of thing. You must really be telling the truth when you said that you were planning to relax tonight." Shang Qinghua had not said anything even close to that. He would never say something like that. He added the shot or two because all he has to do tonight is a bunch of simple copying over of figures from all the various documents into one larger tracking sheet. It's mindless work and not the sort of thing that is disrupted by a little alcohol greasing the way.

"This king of yours is not very good at the whole romance thing, is he?" As if Shang Qinghua is going to allow slander like that to stand.

"He has never been interested in that sort of thing, so there would be no way to know one way or the other."

"Oh? What makes you so sure of that? I thought you were rarely granted the honor of speaking to Mobei-Jun?" Tianlang-Jun has the kind of smile that makes you feel like he's always playing a prank on you, or telling a joke at your expense. As the person who created him, Shang Qinghua knows that that feeling is often correct. The question is simply whether or not it is correct at this exact moment.

"I have known him for many years and seen him grow from a youth into the king that he is today. I would know if he had expressed interest in another."

"Qinghua sounds so sure. Perhaps this Lord should take his word for it." A fucking wrestling match in front of the entire court. Conversation with multiple words from Mobei-Jun over the course of a banquet. Maybe this is the joke. These behaviors could be seen as romantic, sometimes even flirting, in demon customs.

"Tianlang-Jun returned so quickly to formalities, after announcing that they were not necessary. Is he attempting to take his leave, then?" Shang Qinghua is trembling from the audacity of prompting Tianlang-Junto leave, but he's not sure he won't do something even worse if he continues to talk to him. The lesser of two evils.

"Hm, not just yet." Tianlang-Jun spreads his legs wide, leans forward to rest his chin on his hand and stare with half-lidded eyes. "Have you fucked each other?"

Shang Qinghua feels the impact of the question as it hits his chest, and then the shockwaves out that lock down each of his muscles as they pass. Fight or flight or fucking freeze, and he is a prey animal in the hungry gaze of a predator. Not even in a hot way that it sometimes feels with Mobei-Jun, just in the terrifying, if-I-don't-say-the-right-answer-he'll-kill-me way.

Thankfully, or tragically, or pathetically, Shang Qinghua doesn't have to lie about this. Who knows how a man as single-minded and obsessive as Tianlang-Jun would react to having to share his love interest with the tiny cultivator before him.

"No! What the fuck? No, of course he hasn't fucked me."

"He hasn't fucked you? Oh, Qinghua, you poor thing. That is not the question I asked."

"I don't see why any of this is relevant to anything at all."

"I told you. I'm bored! A poor, retired heavenly demon, traveling the world without a friend or a title to his name, grieving the loss of his most reliable subordinate. There is nothing at all to do out there. And there's something so very interesting happening here at this court. How long have you been wanting him?"

Shang Qinghua cannot tell him to leave, because he would be dead before the words could even leave his mouth. Also because this should all be just fine. He shouldn't feel the need to shut this down. Shang Qinghua doesn't mind when people make pitying assumptions about him. It's useful. If it weren't for the pathetic, desperate obsession he's been nursing for his king since long before he even came to this world, it would be funny. Instead, he's holding onto the shreds of his composure and humiliation and anger with the tips of his fingernails.

"Tianlang-Jun," he forces out. "Is there some sort of book you are looking to borrow tonight, or another way that I could be of service to you?"

"My friend Qinghua must be a prodigious reader indeed, if he believes me capable of reading all the books he sent over in the past day alone." There is a breath of peace, where Shang Qinghua is idiotic enough to let his guard down, thinking his blatant efforts to change the subject were accepted. "If you're not going to fuck him, you should at least go through the trouble of cooking for him. After all the cooking he's done for you."

Is this some weird mind game? Probably! Luo Binghe has to get it from somewhere! Is Tianlang-Jun trying to mark his claim on Mobei-Jun by trying to offend and order around anyone who might be a love rival? That feels more like the moves of the Little Palace Mistress than a Heavenly Demon lord. But then, why tell him to cook for his king? Where does that fit into the plan?

It's all gone so strange.

"Sure, yeah, I'll do that." Shang Qinghua agrees because there's nothing else for him to do and he doesn't know what the game is, here. He certainly can't go and tell Tianlang-Jun to fuck off, to leave him alone, to leave this entire fucking palace and go make his trouble somewhere else. What can he do but agree? He has no power here, beyond his intricate and extensive knowledge of all the ways that Tianlang-Jun could fuck him up without even expending any effort. Easier than sneezing.

"I'll hold you to that, Qinghua," Tianlang-Jun says, drinking deeply from the spiked cold tea that he stole. "As my friend, I have to trust that you will keep your word to me, no?" He smiles at that, as if they are two old childhood friends passing the time over jokes and nostalgic stories.

"Of course, of course," Shang Qinghua murmurs, feeling like an old grandfather appeasing a toddler. He could hope that this would be the end of their conversation, but Tianlang-Jun stays again, this night, even later than the night before. Shang Qinghua has nothing he can do about it, but he's going to have to start penciling naps into the daily to do list, if this shit keeps up.

*~*~*

"I have to say, that letter you wrote to your darling love really left something to be desired." Tianlang-Jun does not wait to be announced or engage in any small talk. He simply arrives and begins speaking about the thing he wants to say. This is normally the sort of behavior that Mobei-Jun appreciates.

Normally.

He is reading over the speech that Qinghua has written for him, greeting the dignitaries from the Fox Clan after their arrival yesterday. It is short and succinct, but covers the points that would be necessary for whatever sort of behind-the-scenes things Qinghua is trying to accomplish. Mobei-Jun no longer asks for specifics. He just goes where he is told and says what he's supposed to say. In return, Qinghua makes the words at least somewhat bearable to say. It works for them.

They have a rapport. An understanding. Mobei-Jun is not going to forget this and allow himself to lash out again, like yesterday. Qinghua had not been happy. He hadn't said anything, too busy with other things, but he had scowled up at him over dinner, and that was enough to make it clear. Most likely it will come up again after Mobei-Jun has angered him several more times, and he decides to let it all out at once.

All this to say: Mobei-Jun does not respond to Tianlang-Jun's words. Merely grunts in acknowledgment, so he does not feel as though he has to say them again.

"Have you ever written a love letter before?" Tianlang-Jun slumps into a chair across from Mobei-Jun and props his feet up on the table, letting them fall atop the parchment holding the written out speech. "Because, if so, then I'm pretty sure he had no idea that it was a love letter. Is that how you talk to him all the time? I don't like him here, Qinghua. Make him leave, Qinghua. Bring me my blanket, Qinghua. Someone reading your letters would think he was your parent."

Mobei-Jun focuses on the words beneath Tianlang-Jun's shoes, even as he can feel his lips raising in a snarl. Those were the words he wrote. So Tianlang-Jun really did read the letter. This was not just a lucky guess that Mobei-Jun had fallen for his taunting. He knows the exact words.

Does that mean that Qinghua showed him the letter? Or that he broke in to the office to see it? One would be Qinghua's choice. Mobei-Jun could go and shout at him for it, but that would just make him do it more, most likely. The other option would mean that Mobei-Jun would have no choice but to challenge him to another duel. Another that he will lose.

It wasn't a love letter. That's why it didn't sound like one. Mobei-Jun has never written a love letter and never will.

"I think he was sad about it. If that's the kind of courting you're doing, no wonder he hasn't taken up your offer."

"Is there something Tianlang-Jun needs?" Mobei-Jun grits out between his teeth. He is speaking like this more and more frequently recently.

"I simply desire the chance to teach someone younger than me the proper way to woo a human, considering I'm one of the few demons who has ever managed it." That gives Mobei-Jun pause. Tianlang-Jun notices. "Considering the only models you may have for this kind of relationship would be myself and that son of mine, I had assumed you may want help. Unless, of course, you would prefer a relationship more like the one my son has built with his teacher."

"You have successfully courted a human."

"Famously, I'd say. Or infamously, I suppose, depending on who you're asking. But it certainly did happen. You can look to the emperor of our realm, if you have any doubt."

Mobei-Jun does not respond immediately.

There are two sides of him at war. He has been courting Qinghua for years with no discernible reciprocation. This Tianlang-Jun is one of the few people who may actually be able to help.

The other side of him is furious that this thought has even crossed his mind. This demon lord has intruded into his home uninvited and dares to comment on his relationship. As if he could ever know Qinghua the way that Mobei-Jun does. Mobei-Jun does not ask for help. He is the ruler of his Northern Desert. The second-in-command to Junshang.

Also, Tianlang-Jun is clearly waiting for him to ask for help. Sitting there, smug as can be, in patient silence. Mobei-Jun would rather rip his own throat out with his claws than ask for help from someone so clearly expecting him to.

Would he rather tear out his own throat or lose Qinghua, though?

If he accepts Tianlang-Jun's offer, it will not be as simple as agreeing. There will be strings attached. Mobei-Jun grew up in a family like this, too. Constantly trading information behind each other's back and holding things over each other.

Qinghua will not leave. He promised. They have time.

He lets the silence grow thicker in the room. Goes back to reading through the speech. If he ignores Tianlang-Jun long enough, he will likely go away.

It takes a good while. That is likely what happens when you try to wait out someone who spent the last few decades trapped under a mountain. Eventually, Tianlang-Jun allows the feet of the chair to scrape across the floor as he stands up and laughs.

"Well, good luck, then. I'll give you this one for free: your Qinghua is a man of words. Maybe try to do something about that, rather than begging for him to come clean up your messes." Tianlang-Jun raps his knuckles once against the surface of the table before sauntering out. It's good that he leaves so quickly, because Mobei-Jun is going to kill him if he has to look at him for another second.

*~*~*

It's kind of fucking frustrating, all the shit that's been going on recently. Shang Qinghua is always the person sent to deal with everyone else's bullshit, sure. Usually, though, there's a little bit of free time here and there. He can use it to sleep. He usually uses it to check in with his king and make sure that they are thinking along the same lines in the plans they're pursuing. Or to make sure he's doing all the things that Shang Qinghua trained him to do so that all the careful planning doesn't fall to pieces. Or to just get a chance to stare at him and be the perverted old man that he is. It's usually a fun mix of all of that. It's been happening more often that Mobei-Jun orders him to eat dinner together anyway, this past year or so. Sometimes it's those same hand-pulled noodles, and he's starting to get better at making them edible too.

There's been so much, with Tianlang-Jun's unexpected visit and the complications it brought to the Fox Clan's expected visit, and all the other everyday minutiae that comes from being the only person capable of running the demon realm or the human realm.

He misses it, though. The things that he gets to do when there isn't so much happening all the time. Evenings with his King, his favorite. Casual conversation with him, which really ends up looking more like Shang Qinghua rambling on and on about this or that while Mobei-Jun sits quietly and occasionally makes grunting or vaguely affirming noises to indicate that he has noticed that Shang Qinghua is still talking. Okay, so maybe the only thing that's really missing right now is his time with his king, but maybe that's the only thing worth missing anyway.

He makes his way over to the desk, flips over the stack of letters, starts going through them and adding information to The Overarching To Do List, shifting things in their priority rankings, moving figures across the VIP map and tweaking the color coding. There at the bottom of the stack is another one of those letters, same as the last time. Expensive, heavy cream paper with his name across the front in familiar handwriting.

Qinghua,

I have not seen you as frequently these past few days. There are many banquets. Eat lunch with me tomorrow.

Stop spending so much time with Tianlang-Jun.

Once again, there is no signature line. Once again, there is no need for a signature. It could not more clearly be from Mobei-Jun. It's him at his most neglected, entitled, and pouty. It reminds Shang Qinghua of the way he used to act when he was a teenager, actually, still coming into his power and unsure of his ranking within the family.

"See, I was thinking that was really more of a horizontal movement, but the ridiculous grin on your face makes me think I'm missing something and it was actually better." Shang Qinghua still jumps at Tianlang-Jun's voice, but he doesn't throw anything this time, because thought he might be stopping by again tonight. He just jumps whenever there's an unexpected noise. Sometimes also when there is an expected noise. "Any chance you'll be sharing with the class?"

"Tianlang-Jun," Shang Qinghua greets, bowing into a salute even though he's getting really fucking sick of this happening and would like to know how Tianlang-Jun so easily broke past the lock and talisman he had left on the door to his office. "In what way can this humble one be of service tonight?"

"See, you're so submissive and acquiescent when we're talking like this, Qinghua." Tianlang-Jun reaches out to lift Shang Qinghua out of his salute. There's an eager, boyish smile on his face and nothing behind his eyes. "Which is funny, because it doesn't seem like you follow through on the things we talk about." The smile grows wider, showing off just how sharp a full-blooded Heavenly Demon's teeth can be. "So eager to agree here, and then your actions go and betray all the trust of our friendship."

There is a fine tremor starting up in all of Shang Qinghua's limbs, something he's never quite figured out how to prevent when he's scared. His voice, when it comes out, is a high squeak. "Betrayed? If Tianlang-Jun would be so kind as to explain what he means."

"Qinghua," the word is chiding. "You told me you would be cooking food for your Mobei-Jun. And, yet, I saw nothing of the sort at dinner."

"There was a banquet!" Shang Qinghua yelps, because this is ridiculous. "We were welcoming the Fox Clan and he was giving a speech! I can't cook for him at a time like that!"

Again, Tianlang-Jun turns foxlike in the way he tilts his head to the side. More foxlike even than the Fox Clan that is visiting and that Shang Qinghua invented in a clear effort to pander to the furry demographic.

"Did he not cook for you?"

"He. Well. That's different! He knows I can't eat all that rotting stuff that demons like to eat!"

"Sounds like you could have cooked for him too."

"What do you want?" Shang Qinghua despairs. He made his bad guy too aloof and mysterious and now there's no way for him to even understand the points that he's trying to make. "I'll do whatever you want, just please stop with this whole intimidation game. I don't know what you're trying to do!"

"Qinghua, Qinghua," Tianlang-Jun saunters behind the place where Shang Qinghua was sitting and is now halfway to kowtowing. He's headed for the fucking tea again, not spiked, and Shang Qinghua has resigned himself to that. If that's what it takes for his chaotic-neutral villain to finally monologue and let everyone else in on what the fuck is going through his head, that's a small price to pay.

This is the part where he fucks it up.

Because he's so resigned to doing whatever needs to be done to make the person so much stronger than him leave him alone that he's not even watching him that closely, the way a spy master really should be. He sees Tianlang-Jun's hand reach out, and he doesn't do anything about it, because he thinks he's going for the fucking tea.

And then Tianlang-Jun is holding The Overarching To Do List. And it's too late to do anything.

Shang Qinghua still tries. He lunges up off the ground because there's nothing else to do when someone is holding your child hostage in front of you. At his first movement toward Tianlang-Jun, the motherfucker holds out his free hand and sets it alight with demonic fire, moving it slowly toward the stack of papers.

Shang Qinghua freezes. He doesn't move a fucking muscle, aside from the tremor wracking through every single one of them. He doesn't even allow himself to babble. He already asked the questions. Tianlang-Jun knows what he wants to know.

This is not a world where everything can be backed up to the cloud. This would be infinitely worse than losing his outline. That list is everything holding both realms together. There aren't copies.

"Ah, so this is what it takes to gain the full attention of one so important as the advisor to the king, Shang Qinghua. It's good to know something like that, when you're someone like me. A poor, homeless demon with no power of his own beyond what is granted by his blood. You understand why something like this might be necessary." He's monologuing, thank god, but he still isn't saying anything helpful, anything that will give any kind of fucking insight into what he could be thinking. Shang Qinghua has let him exist as a rogue entity for too long. It's not safe to have someone like this wandering. He needs more information.

"What do you want." Shang Qinghua does not ask, because there's too much space between each word for it to have that kind of inflection. He doesn't want to speak too quickly, because he does not know what sort of behavior will cause Tianlang-Jun to bring that flame closer to his Overarching To Do List.

"It seems that my good friend Qinghua is so busy with his lists that he had no time to follow through on our agreement." Interesting, that he's back to calling Shang Qinghua a friend, as if he hadn't just implied it was a threat. As if he isn't holding Shang Qinghua's most precious item hostage before his very eyes. "Surely, he will have more time to cook a dinner for his king if there are not so many other tasks cluttering up his time."

And

What?

What could possibly be the point of this? Shang Qinghua thought he was onto something, thinking that Tianlang-Jun was interested in Mobei-Jun, but this makes no fucking sense. How did they get here? He is going to scream. No more chaotic neutral villains ever, ever, ever again. No more characters that chase their whims from scene to scene. Every character from now on is going to have a clear and established set of values, consistent motivation, driving force.

No time for any of this. Whatever the motivation is, there is nothing for Shang Qinghua to do beyond hug those overpowered thighs and pray that he doesn't take it any further than this.

"Tianlang-Jun will return the list, after I do this?"

"Of course, Qinghua. I, after all, am a demon of my word. Your precious papers will be returned to you, as soon as you take the time to care for your king in the ways that he has taken care of you." Shang Qinghua would laugh at that, the idea that their relationship is unbalanced in Shang Qinghua's favor, but again. The fire.

"This one will do as you say, then."

"Good boy." Tianlang-Jun pats Shang Qinghua's head on his way out the door. Like a dog. He takes the list with him, but extinguishes the flame.

Shang Qinghua is left standing in the middle of his office.

He should do something.

There are hours before he usually goes to bed.

He can't just go to sleep.

There are so many things to do.

He has a whole list of all the things that he needs to be doing right now.

The problem, though, is that there's so much shit to keep track of every single fucking day. There's not enough space in his head to keep track of that, and every time he tries he just drives himself up the wall with no clue how he got there or what he needs to do to get back down.

So. The Overarching To Do List. He figures out what needs to be done, writes it down on the correct region of the list, and then erases it from his brain. He doesn't need to remember any of it. It's on the list. He'll find it again when he makes his daily to do list and when it's necessary for it to come back up.

It's a living document. There are no copies, because it changes seventeen times a day and is always shifting. He writes it in a horrible mixture of English and simplified Chinese characters, so that even if someone else in this world got ahold of the list that controls life across both realms, they would never know what it says or how to interpret it. Only Cucumber-Bro would ever have the context to read the information, and that's never going to happen, because he's far too content to live in his isolated little cottage while his husband waits on him hand and foot. And he'd never want to betray Shang Qinghua, because he's the one making sure Cucumber-Bro can relax and have a life like that.

No Overarching To Do List. No memory of what is even on that list. Nothing to do for the few hours where he usually sits down and makes significant amounts of headway into the neverending list.

There is nothing to do.

He could go to sleep, but there's no chance that he'll fall asleep right now. He's conditioned his body over the past several decades to spend this time awake.

He could go and cook a meal for Mobei-Jun right now. Would that count? Would that get him his list back right now? Tianlang-Jun had saiddinner, specifically. They've already eaten dinner. And Tianlang-Jun specifically pointed out that Mobei-Jun had cooked a meal for Shang Qinghua to eat when he was in front of everyone else. He had said that he would return the list when Shang Qinghua showed the same level of consideration for his king that his king has shown for him. Cooking something right now would almost definitely not meet those requirements, and would just add more tasks onto the pile.

Well. He was complaining earlier, wasn't he? About the lack of time he's been able to spend with Mobei-Jun recently. He might already be asleep, but there's nothing else to do. Maybe he'll go for a walk over toward his quarters and see if he's still awake now too.

Tianlang-Jun may be mad at him for this. His motivation is still so unclear, Shang Qinghua doesn't know what's going to set him off or what would make him happy. But he hasn't said not to spend time with Mobei-Jun, has encouraged it in some specific ways, so he's going to assume this is okay.

The halls of the Northern Palace are long and wandering. With so many different animal features integrated into the demon realm (again, many thanks to the deep and generous pockets of the furry community), there's never a moment where all the members of a demonic court are asleep. Shang Qinghua slips down the hallways, nodding at various nobles and servants as they go past. Everyone else is dressed casually, but Shang Qinghua needs to pull on several layers of draping robes and fur cloaks whenever he ventures outside of his personal chambers, especially at night. He feels like a huge, lumbering marshmallow as he walks down the hallway, all of his movements and sensations buffered by layers on layers on layers.

It's a long walk to his king's quarters. He had offered, after the whole incident with Shang Qinghua running away, to move his office and rooms closer, but Shang Qinghua hadn't seen much of a point. They rarely spend much time together in each other's rooms, and he's already put all his time and effort in finding the right combination of talismans and interior design and heating elements to make the temperature bearable. It would be so much work to design a new space like that.

The crowds thin out as he approaches the king's chambers. Mobei-Jun is not known for his friendly and welcoming demeanor. Someone looking to curry favor, gain his insight, lobby for policy would know better than to try and trouble him late at night. It would have the opposite effect.

Perhaps Shang Qinghua shouldn't be here at all, actually, when you think about it in that context. Maybe this is a dumb idea and he's about to see his king, mussed up from being awoken and furious, telling Shang Qinghua to leave him alone. Shang Qinghua tries to ignore the depraved part of him that feels excited at that image. It's one thing to be a masochist in a fun, sexy, pre-negotiated way. It's another thing to have your boss who has hit you before and could very easily kill you feature in those fantasies.

He tells himself this approximately five or more times a day. It hasn't worked yet, but he's holding out hope.

Besides. Mobei-Jun promised that he would never hit him again. Shang Qinghua has to trust that, because his entire life is built around trusting that right now. So, he pushes down any hesitation and knocks hard on the door. The wood is so thick and dense that it requires that kind of knock for anyone to hear.

It takes a minute and several more knocks before the door flies angrily open.

Mobei-Jun is standing in the doorway. His long, straight hair is caught and tangled on itself in several places. He's wearing loose-fitting, soft pants and a draping robe left open. That is all he is wearing. The endless expanse of his pale, muscled flesh on display has Shang Qinghua's mouth going dry. It could not be more clear that he had been in bed, got up when he heard the knocking, and threw a robe on as he walked over to the door. He was likely asleep, if the grouchy, squinty expression on his face is anything to go by.

What would he do, if Shang Qinghua dropped to his knees right now and blew him, just in the middle of the night in the middle of the hallway outside his chambers?

Maybe he'd let him. A mouth is a mouth. Maybe he'd punt Shang Qinghua across the floor and never talk about it again. Maybe he'd kick him out of the palace and find a different spymaster and advisor.

Shang Qinghua doesn't do it, just like he hasn't in the years that he's known him.

"Qinghua?" The grouchy, squinty face doesn't go away, but it softens a little bit. Likley relieved that it's not some politician here to try and talk about business.

"Ah, My King, sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"Something is wrong." The way this man never asks questions, just states what he thinks is true.

"No, no, nothing like that. Just here to-" To what? Just here to do what??? Why is he here? Just because he lost his to do list and has nothing to do? How does he explain that to him at all? "Ah, never mind. Never mind. Go back to sleep."

Shang Qinghua turns away from all that glorious skin and makes it only two steps away before he feels a hand clamp down on the neck of several layers of his robes and cloaks. He yelps as he is scooped up like a scruffed kitten. Mobei-Jun drags him back, slowly, spinning him back around to meet his eyes. Shang Qinghua reminds himself again (again again again again again) that he should not be turned on by his boss manhandling him.

"Qinghua does not often come to see me at this time." Again, not a fucking question, but he's still got Shang Qinghua held still. He's not going to let go without him saying something to explain himself.

"Ah, ha ha, My King. This one does not wish to disturb your sleep." Mobei-Jun flexes his arm in a way that makes Shang Qinghua brace to be shaken, but it doesn't come. He watches the intentional pause and forcible relaxation of that muscle, the same sort of thing he's seen several times since he and Mobei-Jun talked about the whole hitting thing. Still, the relentless, unblinking contact from his ice-blue eyes is cutting into Shang Qinghua, who has never been very good at staying quiet anyway. "It's just that I wasn't sleeping and I thought maybe you wouldn't be sleeping anyway and wanted to see if...ha ha, I guess just wanted to know if you needed something, or anything."

The squinty, grumpy expression has almost entirely disappeared into the usual smooth, blank lines of indescipherable emotion. Shang Qinghua does not know if that is a good sign or a bad sign.

"Qinghua usually uses this time to complete tasks and paperwork."

Huh. Shang Qinghua hadn't realized that Mobei-Jun kept that kind of track of what he's up to.

"Ah, yeah, I guess that's true."

"Qinghua is here instead." There is a tick at the corner of Mobei-Jun's eye. A usual tell that he is getting angry.

"Ha ha, yeah, Tianlang-Jun-" The hand in his collars tightens. There is no pain from it (all fabric, and that's good, it's good that Mobei-Jun is not moving him around by a firm grip on his neck), but the obvious reaction to the name still shakes him a little. "Tianlang-Jun came and took my list."

"The Overarching To Do List."

"Oh, uh, yeah. That."

Mobei-Jun drops the collars and goes to storm off down the hallway in the direction of the guest rooms. Shang Qinghua yelps again and starts to scramble after him.

"Wait, wait, My King, where are you going?"

"He is a guest in my palace. He cannot interfere with the work of my advisor."

"So, what, you're going to fight him?" At the skepticism in his voice, Mobei-Jun whirls around, the same hurt pout that he's had since he was a teenager.

"Is that not why Qinghua is here?"

"No!" Shang Qinghua wails. "I just thought that, if I wasn't doing anything and if you weren't doing anything, well, I guess." The pout has dissappeared off of Mobei-Jun's face, and he is no longer pulling away from Shang Qinghua to head toward the guest quarters. "Never mind. I'm going to just, I don't know, go to bed or something. My King should go back to sleep too. This one apologizes for waking you."

"You came here to spend time together."

Shang Qinghua sputters to a stop at those words, shocked and appauled that Mobei-jun would be so bold as to just go ahead and say something like that out loud, when they never do things like that. He can feel the heat of a blush flooding his cheeks, but Mobei-Jun just nods his head and grabs again at the scruff of his cloaks, before he can find a way to gather all of his words together. Without ceremony, he is dragged back through the doorway and finds himself in the king's private chambers.

In all the time that he has lived in the palace, he has not ever been in his king's bedroom.

The rooms are cold and yawning. The ceilings arc high and elegant above them, carved from a beautiful natural marble deposit and shot through with silver shaped to look like ice filigrie on all the support beams and molding. There is a fireplace in the corner, with a sumptuous fur from a Six-Headed Ice Cavern Leopard spread before it, but no fire in the fireplace. Mobei-Jun has never been the type to pursue any sort of heat, when left to his own devices. In a room this large, where an ice demon has spent the last few hours and the walls and ceiling are carved from stone, there is a kind of ringing freezing cold that cuts right to the core of Shang Qinghua's bones. He feels a shiver wrack through him almost immediately.

In the corner of the room, there is an enormous bed, covered in furs and blankets and pillows. They seem to have been constructed into some kind of nest, so that Mobei-jun can lay on top without having to bundle up in any way. Shang Qinghua hates that he knows this now. His mouth is dry just looking at it, knowing that it might still be cold from when he was laying in it just before Shang Qinghua knocked on the door. The blankets are rumpled and scattered. He could probably figure out a way to keep warm, if he bundled up in there enough. If he were going to sleep there.

Which he isn't going to do. Because they don't do that and never have and there is no reason to think that they ever will.

"Ah, My King, this really isn't necessary." The shivering is mostly from the cold, but Shang Qinghua would probably be shaking either way, with the way that it's basically automatic as a response whenever Mobei-Jun manhandles him like this. Yes, it is objectively fucking hot. This is the demon that was meant to kill him and that knocked him around before and from whom he has begged for his life. He should not be turned on right now. He can't help it.

Mobei-Jun does not seem to be listening. He pulls Shang Qinghua over to the chairs near the fireplace and sets him down in one before sitting silently in the chair across from him. They sit in silence for a second, staring at each other, while Shang Qinghua shakes with shivers, even through all his layers. After a bit of this, Mobei-Jun jerks back into motion and goes to light a fire.

"Wait, My King, you don't need to, that really isn't necessary." Shang Qinghua starts with a loud protest, but it strangles itself to a whisper when Mobei-Jun shoots him a scathing glare. Fine. Fine. He's the king here. If he wants to light a fire in his room then that's his problem. Shang Qinghua certainly isn't going to stop him, especially when the first wave of heat begins to emenate from the fireplace and he feels as his muscles unclench.

When he glances back over at Mobei-Jun, his face has gone well and truly soft, and there's something new and stunning about the way firelight plays off his cheekbones and the planes of his face. Something about this new light, the crackling of the flames, flips the moment from terrifying and cold to something warm and peaceful. Shang Qinghua settles back in the seat, snuggling down a little deeper into all the cloaks, feeling almost as though he should have some kind of warm drink as well.

And, suddenly, it's not so bad at all. He's not panicking anymore, becuase his king dragged him here. His king lit a fire. His king will throw him out when he is done speaking with him. All that he can do it wait to be told when his king's patience runs out.

"Well, My King, should I ask how your day went? It doesn't seem like there's much point, since I was there for most of it and had my people reporting back to me about everything I wasn't there for." Mobei-Jun snorts a delicate laugh, with all the effortless elegance of someone written as wish-fulfillment by a man with a competence kink. "I know you did well with the speech for the Fox Clan, even if I was busy prepping for the banquet instead."

"The Fox Clan," Mobei-Jun says, but there's a nuance to his flat tone that makes the words absolutely scathing. Shang Qinghua leans forward, grabbing onto the arms of his chair, and it's probably a good thing after all, that he's not holding a hot drink right now.

"Did they do something? Why didn't I know that you don't like the Fox Clan? It impacts our plans, and the rooms we give them, and the things we serve at the banquet. If you're going to cut them off as allies, you need to let me know yesterday, so that I can start getting everything in order for something like that. You have to tell me these things, My King, if I'm supposed to be your advisor and spymaster."

"Qinghua can know whatever he likes, regardless of reason."

"Oh," Shang Qinghua feels a blush rising on his cheeks, but they were already red from the cold, so it's probably unnoticable. What the fuck is going on in this place right here? "Well, great, appreciate that, but also I do need to know for my job. And also so that, when I write speeches, I can make them things you're actually willing to say."

"They are...overfamiliar." Shang Qinghua cannot help the way that he laughs nervously at that. It's unusual to hear his king express this kind of targeted hatred rather than a general dislike for everyone. It's funny, to hear him complaining. Also, that is not nearly enough information.

"My King, tell me more. What happened? I was only gone for a shichen. Surely nothing too horrible could have gone wrong in that time."

"One of their delegation has expressed interest in courting Qinghua."

And. Oh. Huh. Well, that's not at all what he was expecting this conversation to be about. It's also still really unclear why that would make Mobei-Jun not like them, unless-

"Ah, they really shouldn't be troubling the king with such things as that. And during your speech as well, no wonder My King no longer likes them. It shows a true lack of understanding for courtly manners. Which one of their party was it? This advisor will do what he can to remedy this situation."

There is a pause, enough to draw Shang Qinghua out of his ramblings and notice the way that the irritation has left Mobei-Jun's face, even as his eyes still rest heavy on Shang Qinghua.

"It was the younger general, with the long black hair and silver ears." If Mobei-Jun is looking for recognition in Shang Qinghua's expression, he finds it, because that's one of the Fox Clan that has been relentlessly seeking conversation with Shang Qinghua over the course of the visit, especially when he has seven other things that he really needs to be attending to. He is handsome enough, almost everyone in this world is, unless they're written to be some low-grade villain. It would be nice, if it were at all possible for Shang Qinghua to find himself interested in anyone over the screaming noise of his pathetic love for his king.

"General River Mud! Yes, I remember him. I wouldn't have expected him to interrupt official procedings in such a way. I'll have to make sure to update my notes on him." Shang Qinghua reaches for the brush he usually keeps just behind his ear, but it's not there, because he was settling in for the night in his office. Without asking, he makes his way over to Mobei-Jun's desk, taking one of his brushes and the thick, half-dried ink still in the dish. He's almost done scrawling the reminder onto his hand when he hears Mobei-Jun speak up again.

"It was not an interruption." Shang Qinghua glances back over at him, his sleeve caught between his teeth to better hold it out of the way while he writes, inconvenitently also blocking him from asking any clarifying questions. "General River Mud of the Fox Clan petitioned appropriately for royal permission to court Shang Qinghua, the king's advisor."

The sleeve falls from Shang Qinghua's open mouth.

"Oh shit." Mobei-Jun is just watching watching watching, waiting for Shang Qinghu to react. "Oh shit, okay, wait, that's not at all what I thought you were going to say. So, wait, okay, is he like officially courting me now? My King, if you blessed the courting, then you know that it would be a great offense to both himandyou if I didn't allow it to happen. So, wait, are you trying to marry me off to another clan?" His breathing is speeding up, and he can feel it. Mobei-Jun must be able to tell as well, because he rises to his feet and begins walking toward Shang Qinghua. "You can't send me away, My King, this place would fall to pieces without me running it and you know that. I can't go to the Fox Clan. I don't even have fur and what-"

Mobei-Jun sets his hand over Shang Qinghua's mouth. It is cold and large enough to cover from one hinge of his jaw to the other. He wants to lick it.

"I denied his request and sent him away." The words are so close. Mobei-Jun is so close. He's so much bigger than Shang Qinghua and his voice is so deep that it shakes the air between them when he speaks. Shang Qinghua needs to take a moment to remember what they're even talking about.

"Wait," he tries to say, but it comes out more like mphg until he is able to wrap his hands around Mobei-Jun's and push it away from covering his mouth. "Wait, but sending him away like that could be terrible for the relationship between us and the Fox Clan. My King, you can't just send away every person that annoys you. Why would you even do that?"

This is the kind of question that does not ever get an answer. Mobei-Jun acts based on his feelings and never takes the time to explain. His advisor must learn to take it all in stride and fix whatever mess was just made. Mobei-Jun is a man of action rather than words.

They're still standing so close, with Shang Qinghua holding his mostly-limp hands in the air between them, from when he pushed him away. There's something sparking in the air between them. In the firelight that flickers, dim this far away. Shang Qinghua is suddenly once again very aware of the bed in the room, large and comfortable behind him. They're so close that he can see the resolve settle over Mobei-Jun, a sure sign that there will be no response, before a thought clearly strikes him anew and he tilts his head, focused on Shang Qinghua's expression.

"Because Qinghua cannot go to the Fox Clan. Because this palace would not survive that loss." Oh shit, oh fuck. Somethings happening. Something is fucking different right now, and there is one long, unending scream echoing in Shang Qinghua's brain. One of those large hands lifts from his grasp to brush almost inperceptibly along the edge of one cheekbone, into his temple. There is a wry, soft smile at the corner of Mobei-Jun's mouth, if you are lookingveryclosely. "Because Qinghua does not have fur."

Shang Qinghua is a mouse in a trap. Pinned, wide-eyed, staring up into the eyes of a predator. Mobei-Jun's hand is resting along the side of his head, elegant fingers pressed into his hair, along the shell of his ear, against his temple.

He's waiting for something to happen. For Mobei-Jun to lean down and claim his mouth like it's his right. For him to laugh in his face and declare it all a terrible joke. Something, something, something but Mobei-Jun is carved from ice. He does not shift or react, simply holds them in that moment. He's watching Shang Qinghua like he's waiting for the same sort of thing, and this is too much. This is a dream. This is a trick. This isn't happening.

Shang Qinghua bursts into awkward and uncomfortable laughter, shuffles his way to the side until he's no longer pressed into that small bubble of space between his king and the desk. The moment shatters on the ground after him. He can practically hear the crack. It's fine. It's better than whatever might have happened if he hadn't done anything.

"Ah, My King, so kind, so kind. Of course this advisor would not leave. Come back to the fire. I have my notes now." He pats at the chairs they were sitting in earlier, awkward, awkward. Mobei-Jun stands with his back to him and the fire for one more breath before he turns and follows the directions, lounging in the chair like a throne. Good boy.

"No need for all that, then. My King told the general no, sent him away. This advisor will manage the fallout. Quick, let's talk about something else." Mobei-Jun does not look angry, but there is something of that pout back on his face, and Shang Qinghua can't look at it for too long or he is going to lose his mind. Anything else. "Oh! This one was wondering what My King's favorite food might be."

A pause, as Mobei-Jun clearly decides whether or not he is going to allow Shang Qinghua to get away with such a blatant effort to avoid any conversation about their most recent interaction. A deep sigh.

"This king does not care much for eating. He will eat what is provided for the occasion."

Right, see, Shang Qinghua knew that. That's why he doesn't already know what his king's favorite food is. Before today, he probably would have just answered that question by saying that he does not have one, that food has never been a source of particular joy for his king.

"Okay, and I know that, but surely My King must have some food that he prefers over others? Or some kind of cuisine he has been curious to try?"

"...Zha jiang mian," Mobei-Jun mutters. There are hints of a blue flush along his ears, and Shang Qinghua cannot figure out why. Where would his king have even had the chance to learn of the existence of zha jiang mian? The demons in his palace tend to eat meat raw or dried, with some rare fruits in the summer.

"Ah, good choice, My King."

"And Qinghua?"

"Huh?"

"Qinghua's favorite meal." Oh. That makes sense. That's how conversations tend to work.

"Hand-pulled noodles, My King." At that, Mobei-Jun dips his head in a firm nod of acknowledgement. This whole conversation is so strange. Everything about this night has been so strange. He has no idea what else they should talk about, and the conversation lapses into silence, the fire crackling between them. When Shang Qinghua cannot stand the quiet any longer, cannot stand the memory of the strange interaction over by the writing desk, cannot stand the looming presence of the bed in the corner, he lets out another awkward laugh, stumbles to his feet, brushes his sweaty palms off against his thighs.

"Well, this one has troubled you for long enough." He feels woozy, like the floor underneath him is rocking with each step. "I will take my leave and let you get back to sleep. See you tomorrow, My King."

"Not a trouble." Mobei-Jun does not stand to follow him or look particularly bereft, but the words ring through Shang Qinghua all the same. This is not how they speak to each other. He remembers the grumpy, sleepy look on Mobei-Jun's face when he opened the door. Interrupting his sleep like that is not a small offense. For him to say that it is not a trouble, now.

Well.

He doen't think on it any further. Better to just let that lie before his mind can get a proper hold on it.

Shang Qinghua extends his hand in a terrible little wave before he slinks back down the hallways, as if he were a criminal escaping the scene of a crime, except he literally was just talking to someone.

Back to the safety and warmth of his own quarters. Tianlang-Jun is not hiding anywhere in the corners. He checked. After that, there is little to do beyond curl up under the heavy blankets of his own bed and allow exhaustion to drag him under.

It's hours before he falls asleep.

#svsss #svsss fanfiction #my writing #svsss fic #svsssaction #scum villain #scum villian self saving system #moshang #mobei jun #shang qinghua #tianlang jun

30 notes · View notes

demigod-shenanigans · 1 day ago

Text

Actual lengthy reply time finally (sorry this took me literally forever)

Yeah I did not want Leo to be alone right after this, and I didn’t want Piper to be alone with it either. Canon may refuse to let them go to Jason’s funeral, but I will let them grieve together, damn it!

The backstory/pre-plot part actually ended up being quite a bit more than just a prologue, it’s the first few chapters, but I hope it’ll still feel well-paced and fitting when we get around to the rest of them! I wanted to take the time to get into all the feelings and set up/resolve some stuff, plus sticking to the ToA timeline I had to get to the point where Apollo is back on Mount Olympus, which takes a minute. Most of it is relevant and will be back to haunt Leo later!

Responding to the bullet points by putting the relevant numbers in front (not sure why it apparently changed all of yours to 1. in this reblog, they’re correct if I look at your post?? Very strange)

2. Yep! Leo not feeling loved/worthy of love was a huge deal in HoO, and all canon did was put a girlfriend on it and pretend we’re good now, but we will not be doing that here! Leo will learn to recognize that he’s loved, and if it’s the last thing he does :)

4. This bugged me so much in HoO you have no idea. I actually kind of prefer HoO to pjo just because I adore all the characters, but plot wise it’s all over the place and we really miss out on a bunch of friendship stuff because it’s so focused on all the love triangles. I need more platonic Argo bonding!! Let them all be buddies!!

5. This is partially me being demiromantic but many if not all my favorite ships are characters that have strong platonic bonds first. Something something marrying your best friend. I also feel like Leo and Jason both took forever to realize they were into each other (Leo grumbling about Jason constantly being hot in his general vicinity being the reason why he doesn’t have a girlfriend will always crack me up, lol, and Jason spent so long doing what he thought he was supposed to/what was expected of him, including his relationship with Piper, that he didn’t really get to stop and properly have a sexuality crisis for ages) so I wanted to re-establish that for the fic, especially since valgrace fics are kind of split on whether they have jiper happen and break up like they did in canon or just never have them date at all

6. I couldn’t resist sneaking that one in. Insert lame Apollo dodgeball Leo Valdez joke LMAO

7. <3

That’s such a smart way to put it!! Leo is dealing with a lottt and we’re going to get into it a bit more in future chapters but yeah he’s definitely avoiding talking about some of it (in both the way that we the audience don’t see all of it and in him and Piper actively coping via distracting themselves and not talking about some of it)

Honest confession: I really struggle with Shel. I’m glad she exists, but she’s basically an OC when you try to work with her in fanon, because she really only exists to confirm Piper is sapphic and canon gives us absolutely no information on her. I know she’s Cherokee, I know she’s sapphic, I know she likes hiking and I think she has a piercing? That’s it. She’s just kind of a nothing character, which is fine in the books but makes it very hard to work with her in fanon content. Can we have at least a little additional input on her please? 🤲

Glad you think that works well!! Especially because I actually don’t find myself that funny? Though I think it probably helps that I’ve got a general tendency to get attached to traumatized joke coping characters, so I’m pretty familiar with it conceptually. The last book series I fixated on also did this a lot (intense explorations of grief briefly interrupted by memes LOL)

The audience knows stuff!! But Leo was not around for that! And he’s processing a lot at the moment but that just really makes it sink in how much he missed, both because he was gone for so long and also when he was there but so caught up in his own problems (and especially in seeing how “happy” Piper and Jason were apparently without him, because again Leo doesn’t feel worthy of love and has spent a lot of time in foster families who weren’t that great and made him feel like they’d eventually decide they didn’t want him anymore) that he didn’t see the cracks that Piper now tells him were there basically for the whole relationship. So yeah it’s a shock. On a lot of levels. But it’s a lot less earthshaking than the shock of Jason being gone, and therefore easier to focus on. The Piper related changes may or may not also hit him sometime in the near future ;)

Quotes section (please just in general know I’m delighted you did this it brings me suchhh joy to see what bits touched my readers the most):

-No spoilers, but I will say there’s a reason the fic starts out with memories of Esperanza. And yeah, the whole Jason situation is tearing open a lot of old wounds, specifically because of how similar it is: a situation Leo was unable to do anything to change that he feels responsible for (even though, realistically speaking, he isn’t). A loved one that got ripped away from him far too soon that he never got the chance to say goodbye to. A kind of desperate ache that nothing is ever going to fix.

I have a couple of grievances with ToA, and the way none of Jason’s loved ones are allowed to stay mad at Apollo is definitely one of them. Like, it’s established Jason died because of Apollo’s broken Styx prophecy! We’re told that’s the reason it happens!! Piper is the only one who gets to be mad at him at all, and even then she’s only upset for a single scene and has forgiven Apollo the next time they meet. Grief can be messy and nasty and people lash out sometimes! Not everyone needed to immediately be totally fine with the fact that Apollo got Jason killed!

-Glad you enjoyed that joke! I’m not super good with machinery so I worried I’d struggle with working that part into his narration but there’s some references to it I’m actually really happen with, and this is one of them :)

-Something something Leo is of the opinion that Piper should hate him how he hates himself! Also in this context, feeling a little evil about the fact that one of the reasons Leo doesn’t go to the Camp Jupiter funeral is that he thinks everyone would blame him for Jason’s death. The reality of it is that they wouldn’t! But when his mom died his aunt did blame him and so he automatically assumes that this time everyone will look at him and see that same blame written all over his face.

-English being my third language (technically second language going off of how well I actually speak it, I learnt French first but my French is shit lol), I’m really glad to hear it haha

-All of their lives are fucking weird, it’s a demigod thing, but Leo’s almost got everyone beat just based on the fact that the Queen of the Gods went out of her way to come babysit him. It’s even funnier because I’m pretty sure none of the others know this except for Piper and Jason. I wish we’d seen him tell Percy and Annabeth, I feel like that would have been a very funny interaction.

-There is something related to Leo in that box, which may or may not be something I’ve mentioned on this blog before ;)

-Unfortunately for Leo, there’s a bit more stuff he has to deal with before the Plot can start. For instance, the fact that he is (theoretically) in a relationship right now.

I’m so so glad you enjoyed this!! I’ve read and reread your comment a whole bunch of times now, and every time I do I get this huge grin on my face. This is the kind of comment i don’t get a lot but that when I do get it I’ll treasure literally forever. You made my whole month with this and it’s made me very excited to get back to the fic (which between exam phase and hospital stuff I haven’t gotten to work on nearly as much as I hoped lately)

The choiceless hope in grief

Summary: Leo Valdez has lived and died for the gods. Their war has shaped his life since he was a baby. With Gaia defeated, he sort of hopes he can finally rest. He has friends and some semblance of home to return to for the first time since he was eight years old. Just this once, he allows himself to hope the good things might stick.

But the gods aren’t done with them just yet, by the time Leo finds his way back, Jason is gone.

This time, Leo decides he’s done just taking the Fates’ bullshit lying down. If getting his best friend back means striking a deal with the gods and venturing into the Underworld… well, it’s probably not even the most reckless thing he’s ever done.

The caveat of said deal? He has to trust Jason will follow him, or his self-doubt will doom them both.

And after the life he’s lived, Leo is so intricately familiar with self-doubt that he could probably trademark the word.

Or: The only possible way for Orpheus to succeed is if he learns to think of himself as a person worth loving.

Word Count for chapter 1: ~5k

Rating: Teen and Up

So! *claps hands together* I’ve been threatening you guys with my Orpheus Eurydice valgrace fic for a while! Technically I wanted to wait to post this until I’m completely done writing the fic, and I mostly intend to stick to that! I’m only posting this now because I have a minor surgery tomorrow and I’d rather be anxious about fic related things than about the surgery in question. So, take this chapter as a preview of sorts, more to come soon-ish but probably not immediately!

A couple of important notes before we start:

-TW for suicidal ideation. It’s less Leo actually wanting to die and more his canon behavior of “I’m doing something extremely reckless that might succeed but if it doesn’t, my death is an acceptable consequence”, paired with general grief related self-loathing, but if you think you’re not in the right headspace to read about that, come back when you are or at least tread carefully. This fic pics up at the end of The Burning Maze, so especially the beginning is pretty heavy on the grief stuff.

-Since ToA is vaguely canon to this fic, Leo and Calypso are technically dating in the beginning, but they don’t really interact positively as a couple (honestly they don’t interact that much in general) and break up pretty early on. Just be aware in advance that they’re still together for a little bit.

-Fic title is from Talk by Hozier which is maybe a painfully obvious pick but it was too perfect for me not to use it.

Chapter 1: Leo and Piper have an extended sleepover

It wasn’t a discussion between Leo and Piper whether or not to go to Jason’s funeral. They came to the decision that they wouldn’t silently—or as silently as one could come to an agreement when all parties involved were sobbing.

Maybe it should have been a discussion. There was a part of Leo that worried he’d regret this later—his refusal to take this chance to say goodbye and let himself grieve.

But Leo remembered his mother’s funeral. Remembered the way his aunt Rosa had looked at him like she knew his mother’s death had been his fault. Leo couldn’t stand the thought of people looking at him like that again.

He also didn’t remember his mother’s funeral bringing him any sense of closure or comfort. He’d stood at her grave, afterwards, just as desperate and afraid and utterly inconsolable as he’d been before the funeral, except it had suddenly felt sickeningly final. The wound it had torn in his soul had kept bleeding for years, and the scars would stay forever. He didn’t need any of Apollo’s shitty oracles to know Jason’s death would be exactly the same.

At this point, Leo was pretty sure his sanity was being held together by a combination of jokes and a truly questionable amount of duct tape.

Beyond all that, though, Camp Jupiter was a battlefield right now. It would continue to be a battlefield for the foreseeable future.

Leo wasn’t a coward. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go back and help. But one of his best friends was already in a box, and there was no way in hell he’d risk the other.

With how tightly Piper was clinging to him, maybe she was thinking the same thing.

For all his big talk about dragon escorts, Festus did most of the actual escorting on his own, occasionally torching what Leo hoped were monsters and not random public monuments. Leo, for his part, spent most of the journey crammed into the backseat of the car next to Piper, sandwiched between her and a bunch of moving boxes that seemed determined to flatten him into a Leo-shaped pancake whenever they took a sharp turn.

He’d spent so long thinking about seeing her and Jason again.

He’d talked Calypso’s ear off about them the whole journey, to the point where it had clearly started to annoy her. He’d thought about various ridiculous entrances he could make, and the fact that he’d probably get yelled at, but he’d also thought about sitting together by the campfire, sharing nachos. He’d thought about Jason hugging him so fiercely that he couldn’t breathe, and Piper cussing him out while she held him, making him promise never to do anything that reckless again.

Now Piper was actually holding him, and Leo couldn’t feel anything. There was a numbness in his chest. He wasn’t sure he had it in him to ever feel happiness again. Hell, even if he did, what was the fucking point? Every time anything even remotely good happened in his life, it got ripped away from him again.

They didn’t talk a whole lot for most of the drive. They cried until it felt like they couldn’t anymore, clinging to each other like desperate children.

Even if they’d wanted to talk about what had happened, Piper’s dad was right there, and despite the Mist usually working overtime for them, having him overhear seemed like a gamble. Or, well, maybe that was what Leo told himself. Maybe he just wasn't sure he was ready to hear it all. He still felt like he couldn’t think. He was overwhelmed to hell and couldn’t stop fidgeting.

Several hours into the trip, his stomach started grumbling. Piper dug through the bag at her feet and offered him one of her PB&J sandwiches, but Leo couldn’t eat. He hadn’t skipped a meal in forever—he’d been homeless and unsure when he’d even get access to the next meal enough times that it had been all but tattooed into his skull that he couldn’t afford to—but he couldn’t even think about eating without feeling sick. He thought about Jason. He thought about the state he’d left Camp Jupiter in and the fact that they hadn’t even been able to give the dead their proper funeral rites.

Had Leo’s help made any difference at all? Had anything he’d done in his life changed things even slightly?

Leo knew the Fates had intended for it to be fire that fell—for him to burn in a bright, hot blaze and turn himself to charcoal. But he’d refused to stay dead like a good little pawn, and now Jason was gone, and it was all his fault.

He wasn’t sure how Piper could even look at him right now, but he was beyond grateful that she was holding onto him as tightly as she did. It was the only reason he didn’t fall to pieces completely. The cog at the heart of Leo’s machine had broken in a way that made it utterly beyond repair, and now it felt like a matter of time before the whole thing came apart. Piper holding him was the only reason his remaining pieces were still functioning.

It should have been impossible for Leo to fall asleep under these circumstances, but he’d been traveling for hours and fighting before then and he’d cried out his remaining energy, so eventually, the world started to fade around him, reduced to just the sound of Piper’s breaths, until finally, those went, too.

~~~~

It would have been kinder, maybe, if Leo had dreamed up some shitty visions promising violent death and/or the end of the world. That would have been business as usual.

Instead, he dreamed of his time on the Argo II—of one of those early nights when the different groups were still getting to know each other, having a brief moment to breathe between their ridiculous tasks and saving the world.

It had seemed reasonable to catch each other up on what had happened on their end. Percy, Hazel and Frank had talked about rescuing Thanatos, and Piper, Jason and Leo had told them what had happened with Hera in turn.

This would have been a boring intel conversation at best, seeing as Leo had been there for all of their part, but they’d grabbed snacks and sat on cushions on the floor and made it a whole bonding activity. Jason had been wedged between Piper and Leo, and they’d taken turns storytelling.

And Jason had bragged. So much. But he hadn’t even had the decency to brag about himself like a normal human being. Instead, he’d talked about how capable Piper and Leo had been, somehow managing to make Leo sound like the coolest person he’d ever met. Which was ridiculous, considering he’d met everyone else on their team.

And sure, Leo made it sound like he thought he was amazing all the time, but he was exaggerating, which everyone, himself included, knew.

Jason didn’t seem to have gotten the memo, though. He had one arm wrapped around Leo the whole evening, and he got all starry-eyed when he talked.

“Leo took on three Cyclopes by himself. Three!”

“Dude, stop!” Leo had laughed, shaking his head. “I know I’m incredible and you’re blessed to be friends with me and stuff, but you weren’t even conscious for that part.”

“Still happened, though.” Jason had beamed at him. “You’re amazing, dude. I would have died about fifteen times on that mission if it hadn’t been for you. You guys should’ve seen him.”

It would have been easier if Leo had thought Jason was just trying to talk him up to the others to make them more willing to trust him after how badly he’d messed up in New Rome, but Jason wasn’t the type. He’d looked like he honestly believed every single word he was saying.

So, of course, Leo had refused to seriously deal with any of the things that made him feel.

“Sorry, Pipes, but I’m pretty sure your boyfriend is in love with me. It’s the fire powers, I’m afraid. I’m just too hot to resist,” Leo had joked instead, and Piper had untangled herself from Jason’s other side to throw Doritos at Leo, and everything had been right in the universe.

~~~~

Waking up from that, blearily blinking himself awake in the car full of moving boxes and remembering… that was a worse punch in the gut than waking up from most nightmares had been. And Leo should know. He’d had so many of those over the years that he was basically a certified nightmare expert at this point.

Leo wanted to go back in time and spend forever in that one evening, living it over and over and over again until the Fates or a temporal paradox or something eventually killed him. He wanted to hold on to what they’d been back then—the three of them together and happy and whole,back before they’d realized what the prophecy really meant.

He wanted to stay wrapped in Jason’s arm and hear him laugh at whatever stupid joke Leo came up with while he and Piper threw snacks at each other like ten year olds. He wanted to believe he could actually be the person Jason was bragging about—this invincible hero that could do just about anything and saved people’s lives.

But Leo had never been that hero. Even his sacrifice had been the selfish decision of a coward who wasn’t ready to die just yet. Jason had been their Superman. The guy who could fly and threw lightning and saved people from falling to their deaths. Jason had been the hero. And ultimately, that had been what killed him.

Leo wasn’t exactly sure what he planned to do once they got to Oklahoma. He should have been heading back to the Waystation, to give Calypso the normal life he’d promised. But he wasn’t thinking about Calypso, or the Waystation, and the thought of a normal life had gone out of the window the second he’d seen the coffin. Besides, the Waystation would mean people asking questions, wanting to know about his mission and asking him to talk about his feelings, and he didn’t want that.

The only thing Leo really wanted to do right now was not think.

By the time they got to the house, it was so late that cross-country dragon flight seemed inadvisable for visibility reasons alone, so Leo agreed to stay the night. Festus nuzzled him for a bit, got a fuel snack from the canister Leo had brought and then folded down into his million pound suitcase form for the night.

It took a little under two hours to carry all the boxes inside, which was an annoying amount of time to be carrying boxes but seemed like an absurdly short amount to move the contents of an entire life.

They spent some time in search of the necessities that needed to be unpacked, but the house was still furnished and also had running water and electricity as of a few days ago, so it wasn’t that bad.

While Piper went in search of some ancient camping gear so Leo wouldn’t have to sleep on the floor—this seemed silly to him, the floor was far from the worst place he’d ever slept—Leo asked Piper’s dad if he could help with dinner.

Tristan looked relieved at his offer, actually. He’d been staring at the assorted vegetables with a slightly lost expression, trying to hack at one of the zucchinis with a butter knife. It seemed like he was trying to remember how cooking worked and had just discovered he had absolutely no idea.

Considering how long he’d been an insanely rich guy with a personal cook, Leo guessed that actually might have been a pretty accurate read on the situation.

“You might want to try a sharper knife,” Leo suggested, which made Piper’s dad look absolutely mortified. “Try not to chop off any of your fingers, though. I think Piper’s been traumatized enough for one week.”

The words were out of his mouth before Leo could think to stop them. Tristan didn’t laugh, but at least it didn’t seem like he’d be tossing Leo out of the house over this. Maybe he realized people sometimes said stupid shit when they were grieving. Maybe Piper had just warned him in advance that Leo was like this sometimes.

Tristan just went to find a different knife, which would have maybe been concerning if he hadn’t gone back to hacking at the vegetables a moment later.

“Well, at least this one is actually cutting through the zucchinis. That’s already an improvement.”

“Yeah, I’m basically a cooking expert,” Leo said with a grin, only half-joking. He went to peel and chop up the carrots, and was done with those and about half the mushrooms by the time the poor zucchini had been hacked to bits.

“You and Piper went to school together, right?” Tristan asked after a while of them quietly chopping vegetables for the casserole, trying to make sense of things with information he didn’t have and that, judging from past evidence, probably would have made his skull crack. “You and her and Jason.”

“Yeah. We went to Wilderness school together.” Leo winced, trying not to think too hard of Jason while also trying to remember the lies they’d already told Piper’s dad. At this rate, he was pretty worried his own skull would crack, too. “Then all three of us switched to a different school. Then I was gone for a while.”

Tristan nodded like this made perfect sense, though he mostly seemed lost in thought. That was a little rude, in Leo’s opinion. If he went through all that effort to remember their elaborate setup of lies, the least Piper’s dad could do was appreciate it!

“I’m glad you’re here now, with everything that’s happened. Piper was really upset when you left,” Tristan said, still with that faraway look in his eyes. “The last few months were hard for her. Between the move and the breakup, she really could have used a friend.”

Leo promptly lost all rights to make fun of Piper’s dad and his vegetable chopping skills because at the word ‘breakup’, the knife slipped and he nearly sliced off two of his fingers.

“Fuck! Ow!” he said eloquently, trying to avoid bleeding all over the cutting board in his attempt to get to the sink. “Jason and Piper broke up?”

The question sounded absurd even to his own ears. Why would Jason and Piper break up? They’d been happy together.

Surely, Piper’s dad had to be talking about something else.

To Leo’s shock, Tristan nodded.

“A while ago, yes,” he said, but he didn’t go into details—possibly because Leo was bleeding all over the sink. “We should bandage that. Do you think you need stitches?”

“No, the cuts aren’t that deep,” Leo decided, turning on the faucet and holding his bleeding hand under the stream of cold water. Maybe he should have been more concerned about the injury, but his mind was still whirring at the thought of his best friends breaking up. Unfortunately, the cold water stung like hell. He hissed with pain. “Sorry for making your kitchen look like a crime scene right after moving in. Usually, I at least have the decency to wait a day or two.”

Because the house was a small, cozy place and Leo had not had the decency to curse quietly, Piper appeared in the doorway a moment later, an alarmed expression on her face.

“What happened?”

“I’ve been bested by a stupid potato,” Leo cursed, holding up his bleeding hand and wiggling his fingers for emphasis. He figured out immediately that this was a mistake. “Ow.”

“Stop that, dumbass!” Piper cursed, moving to stand beside him. “Sink was the right call, but you need to use soap or the cuts could get infected. Dad, any chance we have gauze lying around somewhere?”

Tristan didn’t seem to question why his daughter had immediately jumped into emergency medical treatment mode. He just abandoned the cutting board and headed for the front door.

“Not exactly sure what box our regular medical supplies are in, but I’ll get the first aid kit from the car. I’ll be right back.”

“Do we have to do the soap?” Leo whined, because fuck, that stung, but Piper nodded with a scary expression on her face, so he complied. “How do you even know this stuff? Are we sure you’re not secretly an Apollo kid?”

“I know this stuff because I’m friends with a bunch of morons who have zero sense of self-preservation,” Piper cursed, gritting her teeth. “You shouldn’t be around knives when you’re this distracted.”

“I can usually cook just fine when I’m distracted. Your dad was the one who told me you and Jason broke up in the middle of this stupid potato,” Leo said defensively. “Is that the Mist messing with him?”

That was the only explanation his mind had supplied so far that made any sense to him.

Piper shook her head. “We really did break up. That was a few months ago.”

Leo felt his jaw hit the floor.

“What the hell happened? You were together for ages. I thought- you always seemed so happy.”

“I know, but-” Piper broke off abruptly when her dad came back inside with the first aid kit. Demigod stuff, then?

Leo’s mind was racing. The breakup was a completely stupid thing to focus on, considering everything that had happened in the last few days. He knew that.

But it was easier to try and make sense of this than it was to try and make sense of the fact that Jason was gone and he’d never get to see him again.

“Is it alright if we do this somewhere else?” Piper asked her dad, taking the first aid kit from him.

“Of course. It might be easier to patch him up when you’re both sitting down, anyway.” He turned towards Leo. “Thank you for your help, but I think I can take it from here.”

Leo sent a silent prayer to whichever deity was responsible for protecting vegetables—Demeter, probably?—and gave what he hoped was an encouraging thumbs up with his uninjured hand before he followed Piper into the hallway to presumably be reprimanded some more.

~~~~ They ended up sitting on an old bed that looked like it had lived a long, miserable life and was excited for retirement, but the wooden frame thankfully didn’t break down under the weight of the new mattress or the additional weight of them sitting on said mattress. Piper explained that this had been her dad’s room when he’d lived here as a child, and that it would probably become her room now. Then she went very quiet and focused on bandaging his hand, clearly avoiding looking at him.

“It wasn’t because of me, was it?” Leo asked. The thought made him feel ill. “Please tell me it wasn’t something like, I don’t know, you two being unable to stand being around each other after what happened to me. I think I’d actually have to blow myself up again if it was.”

He tried to make it sound like a joke, but it didn’t feel like one at all. The thought that he'd managed to ruin his best friends’ relationship on top of everything else made it hard to breathe.

When Piper shook her head, it felt like a whole boulder was lifted off his shoulders.

“I actually think we would have broken up sooner if you hadn’t gone missing. We leaned on each other a lot after you disappeared. It wasn’t until we realized we wouldn’t find you and things started to settle down a little that I had time to think. And when I did…” Her voice went very quiet, and she still didn’t look up at him. “I realized I wasn’t happy in the relationship. I don’t think I ever was.”

“How did I not know that?” Leo wondered quietly. “I just… you two seemed happy to me. What kind of garbage best friend am I?”

Piper shook her head. “It isn’t your fault. I was telling myself I was happy for a long time. It’s almost- sometimes I wonder if I was charmspeaking myself. That maybe I kept saying I was in love with Jason until I convinced myself I actually was. And with Hera and my mom setting it up… I love-” her voice caught in her throat, and Leo felt like maybe he needed to throw up, “-loved Jason, but not like that.”

“Pipes, I’m really sorry.” Leo squeezed her shoulder. “That sounds like it was super hard for both of you.” Leo felt awful about the fact that he hadn’t even been around to comfort either of them, but it wasn’t like he could fix it now. It was just another item on Leo’s unending list of epic screwups he’d never be able to make up for.

“Jason was… well, he took it exactly like I expected him to. He was surprised, but he didn’t get angry or anything. He mostly seemed okay. Part of me wonders if maybe…” But whatever Piper had been thinking about, she seemed to decide it wasn’t important. “It was hard to get a proper read on him, and as nice as he was about it, things were still super awkward after. I'm terrified he died thinking I didn’t care about him.”

And then she was tearing up again, and Leo thought he would shatter if she cried.

“He knew you cared,” he said as earnestly as he could manage, pulling Piper to his chest again. “You love way too annoyingly for him not to have known. Hell, even I know you love me, and we both know I’m a fucking nightmare when it comes to this stuff.”

“I missed you so much,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his back like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“Oh, I’m about to make you regret saying that,” Leo said, forcing himself to smile. “I’ll bring it up each and every time you say you find something I do annoying.”

“You’re annoying as hell, but you’re still my best friend.” He could feel her tears dripping onto his shoulder, and he knew that would make him start up again too. “I don’t know how I’d do this without you.”

And well, passing away from dehydration after crying too much would be a really lame way to die the second time, but everything was just too much right now, so if that was how he went, Leo wasn’t sure anyone could blame him.

~~~~

For the next couple of weeks, Leo stayed.

Helping Piper and her dad unpack was the perfect way to keep himself occupied and not have to think. Usually, a mundane task like this probably would have driven Leo nuts. But right now, it was a bit of a godsend—if not literally, at least figuratively. Being productive was always so much easier when it was done in order to avoid something you wanted to do even less. There was a reason his spaces in the foster homes had only ever been tidy when he had exams coming up.

He helped cook, too, and Piper’s dad became increasingly less garbage at it the longer this went on—like muscle memory was finally kicking in after years of disuse.

It was mostly good—listening to Piper reminisce about trips she’d taken with her dad and where she’d gotten the weird variety of items she kept in her room. When they weren’t unpacking, Leo and Piper played video games or watched movies or explored the area. Twice, during the night, they took Festus on a little flight to a nearby fast food place. Finding a parking spot was a bit of a nightmare, unfortunately. Leo would submit a complaint about their inability to accommodate celestial bronze dragons the first chance he got.

The first time they tried hiking—Leo didn’t even like hiking, he’d spent enough time outside for several lifetimes, why did he do this to himself—they got hopelessly lost in the woods, and of course, due to demigod bullshit, neither of them had brought a phone, so Google Maps wasn’t an option. It was probably for the better. The last thing that situation needed on top of them being lost was a monster attack.

They were already jokingly planning out their new life in the woods when, thankfully, a girl their age came to their rescue.

“A human being! Thank the gods. The squirrels weren’t talking to us,” Leo greeted her, which had Piper shout “Please ignore Leo!” loudly from the branches of the tree she’d been climbing.

The girl lifted her head, spotted Piper and promptly burst out laughing.

“What in the world are you doing up there?”

“Trying to get a better vantage point,” Piper sighed, making her way back down the tree. “We’re hopelessly lost.”

“Well, nice to meet you, hopelessly lost. I’m Shel,” the girl said, still grinning. Leo decided immediately that he liked her.

Piper had almost made it back down when she somehow missed a branch and fell the rest of the way. In comedic movie fashion, Shel moved before Leo had the chance to and caught her mid-tumble. “That was a bit of a dramatic way to get my attention, but you’re cute, so I’ll allow it.”

“Oh yeah, Piper’s got a bit of a thing with falling for people that way,” Leo commented, and Piper gave him her most murderous look while she got back on her feet.

“You guys need help getting back?”

“Please, yes,” Piper said immediately. “It turns out we’re both garbage with maps.”

“Maybe you just need a tour guide next time,” Shel suggested, winking at Piper, whose face turned scarlet. Leo wasn’t even mad about being the third wheel for once. He’d give her so much shit about this later.

And he did. And then Piper properly came out to him—no label or anything, mostly as extremely confused but sure she liked girls, which also made a few additional pieces click into place regarding her breakup with Jason. She ended her anxiety-riddled explanation by thanking Leo for being so normal and annoying about all this.

Which was how Leo realized he’d apparently never told Piper he was bi.

Or maybe he had, and it had gotten lost along with their other memories of Wilderness. Stupid memory-stealing babysitters.

Well, at least they got to hug about it now.

~~~~

It was strange how normal some days felt when nothing would ever truly be normal again. When in every moment Leo and Piper spent together, the gaping hole that had been ripped into their trio was so blatantly obvious.

The benefit and problem of this friendship was that Leo and Piper were both experts at not talking about things they were struggling with.

This wasn’t exactly news. From what little Leo did remember of Wilderness School, they’d spent months not talking about his mom, or about the fact that Piper’s dad kept canceling their weekend plans. They’d both known there were things left unsaid, but as long as they’d been able to cheer each other up, that hadn’t really mattered. It made sense, honestly. Put two people who hadn’t had a shoulder to cry on for ages in a room together and see what happens!

Right now, this meant they were expertly ignoring the box of belongings Piper had picked up from Jason’s school. It had been pushed so far under the bed during that first night that it was no longer visible, and neither of them made any effort to move it out of its new home since. They ignored the topic of Jason, period, until it inevitably hit them in the face again.

It was mostly dumb shit that set them off. Piper automatically reaching for vanilla ice cream at the grocery store because it was Jason’s favorite—seriously, who in their right mind even liked vanilla ice cream?

Sometimes, Leo would make a joke and burst into tears instead of laughing because he knew it would have cracked Jason up. They found old photos unpacking. One time, Piper’s dad suggested they make tacos and they started simultaneously bawling their eyes out.

Leo had spent a long time exactly like this—pretending everything was normal and okay when it wasn’t either of those things until he inevitably broke down. Then he’d started to actually feel sort of okay whenever he was with Jason and Piper. Now, he was sure he would spend the rest of his life pretending.

His appetite was too used to being stuck in survival mode for him to bow to nausea for long, so he went back to eating properly after a few days. He still cried himself to sleep most nights. He kept dreaming about Jason. The memories wrapped themselves around him like a safety blanket that he knew would get ripped away again in the morning. He always woke up feeling empty. Sometimes, he wished he could just go to sleep and never wake up again.

But other than that, it was mostly good.

Then demigod communications went back up, and everything went to hell.

———

Chapter notes:

Fun fact! I originally planned for this chapter (as well as the next few chapters) to just be backstory in my head and for me to maybe do a flashback or two. Unfortunately for me, Piper McLean waltzed into the room and refused to leave.

I do actually think the fic works better this way, but it will take a second to get to the plot! Hopefully you’ll enjoy the whole journey :)

I may not be able to have Leo and Piper go to Jason’s funeral without seriously messing with the plot of Tyrant’s Tomb, but I could at least pick the most evil reason possible for them not to go!

Side note: I sort of forgot that Hedge and Mellie were supposed to be here according to TBM, but by the time I remembered I already had this chapter written out and, as someone who cannot be bothered to figure out how to write them, I decided to just leave it. ToA is vaguely canon to this universe, but only for the most part. Some details are inaccurate, and I think that’s okay.

Anyway, thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs super, super appreciated as always!!

List of people that at some point asked to be tagged when I post this: @poppitron360 @ginnyluna @keefessketchbook (feel free to comment if you want to get taken off or be put on the tag list for future chapters!)

#tchig

76 notes · View notes

aficionadoenthusiast · 3 days ago

Note

adding some more cause everything is shit rn

pjo

all canon ships + valgrace i believe

Hot People Eat at Dairy Queen by itsmrlol; T; 84k; i read a lot of chat fics so i cannot remember if this is the one that had me pissing myself laughing or if it's just average funny but either way it's funny

[us🤝being literal gods] [Sparky re-named the group "nico is a gay disaster; send help"] 12:36am Ghostboy: i beg ur pardon???? Nutella: SPEAK ON IT‼️‼️‼️

mist you already by starrey_night; T, 1-10k; social media/chat fic; fucking hilarious

After the Mist mysteriously disappears, the world of Greek mythology is exposed, and the response is … just as you expected. A story told through social media

Baby Blofis College Fund by zipadeea; T; 3k; hilarious and made me feel very connected to Sally

Valerie calls her an hour later. “Sally, what the hell?” “That bad, huh?” “Bad? Sally, it’s gold. I went from squirming in my seat to crying genuine tears. And that twist, making him a Greek god, it’s exactly what we’re looking for right now. How soon can you get me the next chapter?” *** In which Sally Jackson realizes by the time the new baby is eighteen, a semester of college will cost an arm and a leg. And those Fifty Shades of Grey books sure did make a lot of money.

percy jackson and the scrutiny of his coworkers by pqrker; G; 6k; nosy mortals is such an old but fun trope in this fandom, and this one does it really well

Jim turned back to the tank and looked at Marcie the seal, who was now staring at the spot his coworker had been standing just moments before with that same strange look of reverence in her eyes. Percy Jackson truly was the oddest person Jim Elpool had ever worked with. or 5 times percy's coworkers were confounded by his fish magic, plus 1 time they try to figure it out

Daddy Issues Inc by Librarian_Alexandria; T; 10k; THIS ONE! IS THE ONE THAT WAS SO FUNNY! YAY!

Piper changes the GC name to Daddy Issues Inc, which has little to no influence over anything, and what follows is completely unrelated. Jason introduces his fellow university freshmen to his boarding school friends, also attending Olympus University, throwing Reyna and Piper, equally oblivious and disastrous, together. but not like, together-together yet anyway its a texting fic about our favs at uni and they're chaotic and this was fun to write

mcu

Tony Stark: Appliance Whisperer by Alex51324; Avengers; T; 12k; Tony just has a way with electronics

After Tony over-reacts to some SHIELD agents breaking a microwave oven, Steve begins to wonder if there's something the team should know.

you're my cherry pie by novembersmith; Venom; E; 12k; Venom learns about human reproduction and sex. There is a powerpoint presentation.

The first time Eddie suggests they have sex, Venom is, more than anything, extremely confused.

Operation Cat Whisperer by cookies5098; Spider-man; G; 5k; poor Peter is terrorized by cats. (not as heavy on the irondad trope as the summary and tags make it sound)

Peter and the cats of New York have an understanding: he helps them down from trees and tall buildings, and in return, they ignore his spider-like traits that trigger their hunter instincts. So, he honestly thinks he'll be fine when visiting Greece, one of the stray cat capitals of the world. But he's wrong. He's so fucking wrong. Feat. Peter being a walking catastrophe—thank goodness for MJ and Ned—Morgan being a juice pops fiend, and Tony being a good dad to them both.

How To Pay For Rent 💸 by fictionfeast; poolverine; E; 42k; i've read so many poolverine fics since dp&w came out, and i can confirm, this is one of the good ones

To pay for rent, Logan and Wade take odd jobs on Craigslist.

teenage wasteland by swirlees; Spider-Man; T; 10k; the AcaDec team fucking with the FBI

He doesn't set out to be a terrorist. It just...happens. And he's not even really a terrorist. He totally recognizes that it's his fault the Chitauri core ends up on the Washington Monument, but he's not trying to cause terror, ergo, not a terrorist. Just, an accident-ist. In which Spider-Man's journey into superhero-ship leads him to the accidental terrorism that sometimes comes with it, and (if you asked him) the A+ recovery he makes, featuring big brother Deadpool, an absolutely fed up group of FBI goons, mildly entertained Daredevil and Mr. Nelson, and a weirdly very supportive, kind of terrifying GenZ AcaDec crew.

Infinite Coffee and Protection Detail by MusingsOnBuckyBarnes, owlet; stucky and other avengers; M; 100-300k; I believe this one is pretty famous in the stucky and mcu fandoms, but in case you haven't read it, read it. it's hilarious, angsty, and amazing. steve and bucky's characterizations are great. this is probably the best bucky recovery fic i've read.

The mission resets abruptly, from objective: kill to objective: protect.

trc

Sold by flightspath; pynch; E; 7.5k; idk what to say for this. the summary speaks for itself

"Eight thousand," Ronan announced. Professor Kellogg laughed unkindly. "Young man, it seems you’re confused. You’ve only re-drawn the paddle number." "Whatever, that's my bid. Eight thousand.” Another wave of whispers and gasps rippled through the room. “I'm a mechanical engineering enthusiast." He turned to address his tablemates. "But a high school dropout,” he added in a stage whisper, as if they’d asked, “so I need a tutor." He looked back up at Professor Kellogg. "I’m stupid but rich, basically.” --- In which a date with Adam is up for auction, and things go from bad to Pynch real quick

cluck cluck, motherf- by andrealyn; minor pynch; T; 3k; great look at adam and declan's relationship

What's worse than getting sick while your significant other is away? Getting sick when your stubborn future in-law is home at the Barns with you and won't admit that they're sick too. Is stubborn pride worth suffering in silence and refusing to admit that you're worse for the wear? If it means losing a game of sick chicken, then for both Adam and Declan, it is.

Surfin' On A Sound Wave, Swingin' Through The Stars by clotpolesonly; bluesey & pynch; T; 2k; I just reread this and cried

Ronan kicked the tires of a rusty Buick and turned to look Gansey up and down. “What are you supposed to be, anyway? An aspiring yacht captain who misplaced his yacht?” Gansey leveled him with an unimpressed look. “These are just my regular clothes and you know it.” He ignored Ronan’s unrepentant sniggering in favor of checking Blue’s text again. “Jane said she has a couple’s costume planned for us but wouldn’t tell me what it is, only that I should just come to the party in my favorite outfit.” “Maybe she’ll be in bright-ass green and you can be highlighters together.” “Ha very ha.

JessJesstheBest also has very funny trc fics

hi! i also love comedy! any chance we could get some more funny fic recs?

yes, absolutely!

pjo

sorry, don't have a ton of these, I tend to read more serious fics for this fandom

keeping it fruity by buoyantsaturn; valgrace, T, 4k; Leo is both so relatable and so silly, I love it

Leo huffed. “Sorry, I just don’t think I can support such senseless violence,” he grumbled, knowing that all of the excuses he and Nico had come up with over the last few years would be useless by that point. “What is a sport, really, if not an excuse to beat some stranger to a pulp?”

sex education by CordeliaRose; solangelo, E & M, 5-20k; I'm not normally a fan of smut, so if this one got me to read smut, you know it's good

Percy tries to give Nico a sex talk. It goes about as well as anyone could have predicted.

marvel

shelter order by deniigiq; team red, G, 46k; team red quarantine group chat fic, need I say more?

Little Spidey (Pink): Hello Twitter. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Spiderman has decided that we should share with you all our private chat. We will be doing so on the condition that y’all remain cool about it. You gonna be cool? (Peter decides to raise spirits of those in isolation by sharing parts of the Team Red chat online day by day.)

Fishing Isn’t Fair to the Fish by NezumiPi; defenders, T, 17k; I was not expecting this one to have so much humor. or an exorcism.

Spoilers for Defenders S1 and prior individual shows. In a magnificent display of poor judgment, Luke Cage invites the Defenders on an upstate fishing trip in they can get to know one another better and perhaps smooth over some minor interpersonal conflicts. Contains (in no particular order): Minor interpersonal conflicts, major interpersonal conflicts, moderate impersonal conflicts, Danny Rand’s undergarments, porn for the blind, misuse of pharmaceuticals, talking swans, occasional fishing, and some seriously unpleasant business.

Mr. Stark's Home for Idiot Teenagers by OffToNewPastures; Iron family, T, 98k; tbh it's been so long since I read this one that I don't remember what it's about, but I have it marked as funny, so here you go

Peter is there, slumped over the kitchen island, slowly cramming spoonfuls of Double Chocolate Cookie Crisp into his mouth, hair tousled and sticking up every which way, and Tony realizes with sudden clarity that he’s fighting a losing battle. Maybe not today, maybe he can put it off for a while, but someday he’s just going to have to give up and love this ridiculous kid. - In which Tony Stark learns object lessons about love, sacrifice, death, friendship, and parenthood; and makes his peace with the unfortunate reality that his penthouse will be crawling with asshole teenagers every weekend for the foreseeable future. Follows canon...loosely. Ahem.

Chaotic Peter by Isnt_it_pretty_to_think_so; Iron family, T, 15-20k; this one is hilarious and painful and gripping and so so beautiful, and it has a logical path to the Iron family trope that doesn't make me cringe. I stayed up to 5 am on a weekday reading it. No regrets. (My note on ao3: "Reread first story to laugh until you cry, reread second part to feel something," if anyone was doubting how I feel about this fic.)

"Is there a reason you're calling this late at night?" Tony asks, worried in spite of himself. "Tell me what's going on, kid." “Everything is one-hundred-percent fine,” Peter says. “Seriously, I've never been better. But I should let you know I have about thirty bricks of cocaine in my bedroom. Also, Karen won't let me turn off Instant Kill Mode. Also, Walmart discontinued my special razzleberry pink squeezy lemonade. Which isn't related to tonight's patrol, I'm just bummed about it.” Or: The five times Instant Kill Mode is activated +1

Super Duper Side Effects by awesomesockes, whumphoarder; Avengers, T, 16k; most mcu fans probably recognize this one and know it's hilarious

The downside of an enhanced metabolism is that it renders most drugs completely ineffective. Captain America accepted this long ago as an occupational hazard. But after Peter sustains a serious injury in the line of duty and the doctors have no way to manage the pain, Steve decides to volunteer as a test subject for Bruce and Tony’s experimental super drug. However, the soldier ends up getting a little more than he bargained for. (Alternative title: Original Drug Tester: Steve Rogers)

Obligatory mention of the fic that caused this ask:

in technicolor by deniigiq; Marvel's various NYC vigilantes & Brett Mahoney, not rated (I'd give it a T), 120k; again. the observor pov gives the idea of wildlife being studied in their natural habitat, and it is so. fucking. funny.

Brett sighed and looked down at the folder in his hand. “Your name is Peter, right?” “Lawyer.” “Peter, we haven’t even started talking. Let’s just take a minute to ease up.” “Lawyer.” “Bud, we haven’t charged you with a crime. This is just talking.” “Law. Yer.” Goddamn. (Brett's encounters with Team Red/vigilantes and their weird fucking way of helping)

Still Preoccupied... With 1979 by darkbluedark; drarry (+jily & wolfstar), T, 15-20k; pre drarry accidental time travel hanging onto their rivalry for convenience? hilarious.

It’s May 1979 and the Order has just apprehended a pair of mysterious wizards who look remarkably like a Potter and a Malfoy. Naturally, James Potter and Sirius Black are called in to identify the strangely familiar strangers and determine their backgrounds and loyalties. (This would be a lot easier if their captives weren’t convinced everyone they talk to is dead. It would also be easier if they didn’t spend half their bloody time bickering.)

sirius black and the "mystery girl" by tjmcharg; wolfstar, T, 29k; heteronormativity but for humor reasons

"You can't tell me who you're with?" Lily smiles at him hopefully. Sirius laughs. "Alright Evans, if you're so curious, I have a proposition for you" "We'll set up a little bet, you have until the end of the school year - so two months - to work out who I'm dating, or..." he pauses to think and with an evil smirk decides, "or you have to ask your crush out on a date."

pair of tossers with a cat by moonymoment; wolfstar, G, 10k; a cat nearly destroys them. in the middle of a war.

Something seemed to dawn on Remus then; something so obvious he couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it before. He frowned and looked at Sirius quizzically. “What?” “Are you…” Remus began, gaping slightly, “jealous of the cat, Sirius?” Sirius looked down. “I’m not jealous of the cat.” “You’re jealous of the cat!” “I am not jealous of the bloody cat.” Remus finds a stray cat on the street and brings it in. Sirius is not impressed. Chaos ensues.

(fuck jkr. for those of you who don't know me.)

(if y'all have any especially funny fics you wanna share, i would not be opposed 👀) (especially marvel and pjo 👀👀)

38 notes · View notes