#fic in progress

Enter Shen Jiu stage left. Liu Yuan doesn't immediately recognize him as the scum villain he'll become, but he does recognize some of the same things he sees in a scared and traumatized animal and he descends on a percieved poor meow meow (someone put this man down before Shen Jiu does)

Anyway, enter Liu Qinnge stage right, finding out his brother's been hanging out with Shen Qingqiu (at this point he has a reputation it probably took Liu Yuan a while to get this close)

And so he storms to find them, having a nice conversation and walk (its mostly Liu Yuan talking, Shen Qingqiu just isn't forcing him to leave this time) and scowls.

"Da-ge, what are you doing spending so much time with Shen Qingqiu!? Don't you know what sort of a man he is?" All mad, and Shen Qingqiu thinks "Well this is it, goodbye to the one person that still looks at me like I'm a human." and also "Wait a minute, Yuan-Shidi is Liu Yuan the head disciple?" because Liu Yuan knew Shen Qingqiu would hate his didi he insisted on being known as Yuan by Shen Qingqiu.

But then instead of turning on Shen Qingqiu, Liu Yuan visciously scolds his brother for interupting, being rude, and he even grabs his didi by the ear and tugs while he scolds like "Wait until I tell a-Niang how unruly her son is being, picking fights so wrecklessly!" And this devolves into a fight, and goodbye weimao that got shredded in the tussel

So now Shen Qingqiu has a pretty shidi, and a festering crush

Liu Yuan is, as usual, none the wiser

Sorry for the confusion, I'm still working on it! Anyone who wants to make sure not to miss any art or fic updates can follow the Sink Your Teeth In AU tag on tumblr!

I will post it on AO3 as soon as I have the intro chapter finished. I wrote a chunk of it before doing some light research into space travel and uh... I have now revised the outline so I can hit the intended story beats without entirely breaking the laws of physics. Since bloodymary can vary a lot, here's what to expect:

Predator/Prey dynamics

Pilot Simon Agenda

Bad first impressions/Meet-ugly

Grace gets to experience the horrors

The power of friendship (and Rocky)

Woops I can't believe it's not sexual attraction

No religious themes or nicknames

Near-Erid Food/Vitamin Shortage

Simon is a... plant?

Grace is a... ??????

Specific factors/content warnings under the cut (vague spoilers):

Do You Know How Much I Love You? / on ao3

1985, 1986, 1994, 1997, 2002. Learn through different moments in their life, how their bond strengthens more and more. Stupid parents, shitty ex-girlfriends and new challenges.

What you're getting: A little bit of feelings (a lot), a little bit of angst but in total a whole lotta love. Follow Stobin's adventure that is their life ♡

art by: @maikaartwork

fic by: @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx

written for: @stobinminibang

First Chapter available on 4th of July on ao3

When they come to arrest Professor Pankrantz, his students won't have it. He had come back to them quiet and broken this winter, more careless with his dissent, more bold in his defiance. He did not seem to care when the warrant was put out for his arrest, as an elvish sympathizer, a sodomite, and a conspirator against Nilfgaard.

"He knows the White Wolf will save him. He always does." Essi had said with false confidence, but the weeks pass and the university's protection wanes and the White Wolf does not come.

"He's not coming." Adrien whispers, hunched over his songbook. "We must do something."

"We will," Essi responds.

When he hears the guards outside his office, Jaskier puts down his quill for the last time. He swings open the door.

"Gentlemen!" He says. The armored faces are featureless, unmoving. "How would you like me?" They grab and cuff him hard across the head, then frogmarch him down the hall. His head rings like a great bell tolling the hour. He can feel the blood trickling out his ear.

There is a great crash, and a scuffle, and a large hand grabs him by the elbow. "Geralt." He whispers.

But it's not. Jeremiah smiles awkwardly, and holds his dented tuba in one hand. "I used to be a blacksmith before this." The quiet youth says. "Never thought it would come in handy again."

"My dear boy." Jaskier says as he's pulled along. "You shouldn't have. You saved my life."

"Your tutoring saved mine during finals. I think we're even, Professor."

Jaskier is hurried in through the backstage door, crowded with students carrying instruments, costumes, sheet music, and props. They all part way to let him through. "Top box, Professor." Essi says, hurrying him. "We saved it just for you."

He sits down, bewildered, as the guards shout outside and the orchestra tunes frantically. The curtain opens just as the guards make it into the auditorium. Everything hushes in that special breath before a show.

Essi steps on stage.

"Thank you and welcome to the members of the Oxenfurt Academy faculty, staff, and student body who have come to support this performance," she says. "We'd also like to welcome representatives of various law enforcement communities who have chosen to join us in the Academy Grand Theatre tonight. In the spirit of the arts, leave all discord at the door, and please enjoy this special performance by the students of Oxenfurt - 'The Adversities of Loving', a tribute to the life and works of Professor Julian Alfred Pankrantz."

Will makes good on his vague promise to cook for Mack a couple days before Thanksgiving, when Christina and Patty take the boys to a school fundraising thing that Will was looking for an excuse to skip.

“Are you gonna get me wine?” Mack asks, as soon as he comes over, spinning around on one of the stools at the giant kitchen island.

“Why would I get you wine?” Will is rifling through one of the drawers for measuring spoons. Christina and Patty moved a bunch of stuff around in the kitchen last week and it’s throwing him off. Mack doesn’t even like wine. Neither of them do.

“This is supposed to be, like, a nice dinner,” Mack complains. “A chef thing.”

“I said I’d cook dinner, not wine you and dine you,” Will says. “Let’s get that straight right now. I think Patty has drinks in the little fridge in the den.”

Mack gets them both High Noons, and then they hang out for a while, Mack messing around on his phone, Will getting all his shit together to cook.

“Smitty, you really like doing things where you control the music,” Mack observes. “Driving. Cooking. Interesting.” He emphasizes it in that annoying way he does sometimes, more like inchresting.

“That’s not true. I really like doing things where you don’t control the music. That’s different.”

Mack sings, “Sweet chin music and I won’t pass the aux. That’s you. Hey, put that on.” 

They listen to “Not Like Us” twice, Mack dancing aimlessly around the kitchen with his seltzer. Then he starts getting up in Will’s face, trying to distract him, make him laugh.

“You wanna sous for me?” This will probably go faster if he pretends to let Mack help. 

“What?”

“Dude, you were there the whole time Must and I were watching The Bear. Like, every episode, you were in the room. Just mince this garlic for me. Cut it really small.”

“I knew this was gonna be a chef thing. Okay, give me a knife, Two. I can hang.”

He can’t hang. Will’s not a champion mincer or anything, but he’s definitely not as bad as Mack is. He adds it to the list in his mind. Not, like, things that Mack’s bad at. More like things that Will’s better at. It always gives him a little thrill when he finds one, because they’re been pretty well-matched so far.

Will’s a much better golfer, Mack’s a little better at basketball. Will’s a faster runner, Mack lifts heavier. Will’s got him beat at darts, poker, pickeball. Mack waxes him at pool, bubble hockey, most video games. And that’s before getting into hockey, which is a much longer list. Will’s been keeping that one for years already.

After Will finally gets everything going in the oven, they fire up the game that Mack’s BU guys are so into. Will hates it at first, at least until he starts unexpectedly winning, at which point it immediately becomes his favorite thing ever.

“You’re cheating,” Mack says, scowling.

“I’m not cheating. You just suck.”

“This is a setup.”

“How could it be a setup? You’re the one who wanted to play it. Holy shit, you’re so bad. I’m kicking your ass. I didn’t even know it was possible to be this bad at something.”

Mack’s so steamed that he hurls his controller at the fireplace. Then he has to pace furiously around the living room a couple times, trying to calm down. It only sort of works. “Is it time to do the steak yet? I don’t want to play anymore. This game fucking sucks. I hate gaming with you.”

Will needles him for a few more minutes, until it really is time to get everything out of the oven and cook the steaks. Mack disappears, then reappears with two more seltzers. He presses one of the cans against Will’s back, ice-cold through his thin shirt, and Will jumps and yelps.

“Be nice. I’m cooking for you here.”

“I’m always nice,” Mack says, which is a total lie. “You’re the mean one. Or at least, you’re mean to me.”

Something prickles at the back of Will’s neck, a little rush of awareness that Mack’s still standing right behind him. Mack would barely have to move to touch the damp patch on Will’s shirt from the can, or Will’s hip.

It’s not just that, though. He thinks about Mack in the hotel room, telling Will that he was right, that Georgia was kind of mean, but that Mack liked it. Will’s brain is trying to make connections here that it absolutely shouldn’t.

Will slides away from Mack, scoffs. “I’m literally making you a steak dinner, bud. That’s not mean. Go get plates, they’re in the cabinet over the dishwasher.”

Mack insists on doing the dishes after they finish dinner and watch the end of the Ducks game, so it’s Will’s turn to spin around on the kitchen stools and wait.

“I’ll tell Jumbo and Tabea that you’re minding your manners,” Will says. “Is that what you’re angling for?”

Mack flips him off with a soapy finger. “No, I told you, I’m always nice. I’m just being a nice guy.”

Since Will is, allegedly, not a nice guy, he decides to wait until Mack’s finished loading the dishwasher to tell him that the cleaners are coming tomorrow morning and they could have just left the dishes in the sink.

“Holy shit, fuck you,” Mack says, whipping a sponge at his head. “I’m leaving.”

Will walks him to the door. Mack hangs around on the doorstep for a minute, pulling his hood up all the way up over his head again. His hair’s going to look so stupid tomorrow morning.

“Hey. Hey, Smitty, that was a great dinner, dude.”

“Thanks.”

Mack edges a little closer, brushes his knuckles up against Will’s chest. Will freezes. There it is again, the prickle at the back of his neck. Will’s lived, breathed, bled hockey for most of his life. He’s gotten very good at identifying a little sliver of an opening, a little gap to push into. And here’s one, all of a sudden, with Mack, but Will’s not quite sure how to play it yet.

“Yeah,” Mack says. “Uh-”

“Yeah,” Will repeats mindlessly.

They’re just looking at each other now. Will doesn’t spend a lot of time looking at his guys like this. Really looking at them. He spent the last three years surgically attached to Leno and Gabe, saw them cry in front of him, considered getting truly fucking gay matching tattoos with them. And, yet gun to his head, he might not be able to accurately describe the color of either of their eyes. Brown? Probably?

Mack’s eyes are a light hazel-green color, always a little different, depending on the light. Will’s known that for a while now.

Will makes himself take a step back. Mack drops his hand.

“All right, get the fuck outta here.”

Title: Love What's Left of You

Series: Are We Out of the Woods yet?

Part: 1/8

Wordcount: 15,700 and counting

Relationships: Dustin Henderson & Steve Harrington

(...)

Something swirled in him again, something ugly and scarily familiar, and he shuddered, trying his hardest to push it down. But instead of getting rid of it, he pushed it right into the underlying fear, fear that it would all disappear, that the illusion would shatter and he'd come to himself in a world without his friends in it, without his family, without Steve, all gone just like Eddie, just like El, and his chest tightened.

He didn't deserve the comfort. But by God, he needed it. He needed it so desperately that he was ready to claw his way through, because 'you die, I die' still rang in his head, and Steve's eyes were still sad, and he was drowning without him, and they needed each other, so he couldn't let himself get lost again, he couldn't break his promise even more, he couldn't deal with a world without Steve in it-

"Hey, hey, Dustin, breathe. Look at me, bud, you need to breathe. It's okay, you're safe."

His eyes snapped up, wide and scared, and Steve was here, hand gripping his shoulder, warm and reassuring, and Dustin leaned into it without even realising what he was doing. He put a hand on his friend's wrist, fingers tightening over his pulse, focusing on it for a moment. It was strong and steady. The kind of steady that allowed the teen to breathe out slowly, almost calmly.

"Can I- I mean-" he stuttered out, voice way shakier and smaller than he'd planned. "I know it's been a long time and I haven't, like, been the nicest, but-"

"Of course you're stuck in a room with me, Henderson, don't you think I'm letting you out of my sight in the nearest future."

The words were charged with something more than just simple 'we could've died so I need to know you're here'. It was like Steve knew. Just as he knew exactly what the teen wanted to say without the need to finish the question. But for once Dustin was glad that he did. Relief washed through him as he nodded, looking down at the glass somehow still in his hand. They stood there for a moment in silence. There was so much to be said, to the point of coming up empty.

Steve's hand squeezed his shoulder.

"C'mon, let's try to get some rest. We've earned this."

"I don't know if I can sleep," he admitted quietly. He really did feel like a little kid again, giving up on the tough act he'd been trying to keep up for the last months. In this second, with bruises on his face pulsing lightly, with his brother right there, so close that the familiar smell seemed to envelop him whole, he felt more fragile than ever. Steve was not that much older, not much better off, not any less scared. But he was still there, firm and steady, still his big brother, the one he could've lost twice in the last 48 hours.

"That's okay. We can just lay down and see where it goes."

Dustin nodded at that and wordlessly followed Steve upstairs, fingers still wrapped around his wrist. They didn't need to say anything more. Neither of them commented when they both paused next to each open door to make sure everyone was okay, or when they turned on a night lamp, or when they climbed into bed and Dustin hesitated for a moment before deciding that fuck it, they'd been through life and death situations, no one had the right to judge them, especially not that nasty voice in the back of his head, and cuddled into his best friend, placing his head right above his heart.

They hadn't cuddled in forever. They used to back when Dustin was smaller, during movie nights or after nightmares. Dustin would always fall asleep on Steve at some point, and more often than not he'd wake up to an arm wrapped around him loosely, sometimes laying right on top of the steadily moving chest. He didn't realise how much he missed this. How much he missed the arm wrapped around his shoulders, fingers combing through his messy hair.

He could've lost it. If Jonathan had been even a millisecond too late-

He stopped the thought, focusing back on the heartbeat against his cheek. Slow and steady.

"This is my new favourite sound," he mumbled before he managed to stop himself. He could almost feel Steve's eyebrows scrunching in confusion, but honestly he was too tired to even be embarrassed about the slipped confession.

"What is?"

"Your heart."

He heard the slight break in the pattern of Steve's heartbeat and smiled. He wanted to stay here. It was safe. Calm. Peaceful. He nuzzled more into the familiar chest.

"I'm not going anywhere, bud."

Dustin's eyes closed for a moment, the darkness immediately filling with the red glow, with Steve tumbling down the platform, hanging off the edge. The worst part was that he hadn't even been playing a hero. It had been bad luck. A fucking accident. At the very end of all of this it could've been a stupid accident that would've taken Steve Harrington from him, and he couldn't handle the thought.

"I thought that was it," he mumbled, voice low, trying his hardest to focus on the steady thumping of his best friend's heart. "On the tower."

The arms holding him tightened slightly, cheek resting on his head. Familiar. Safe.

"Yeah, me too. And then in the Abyss-"

He shuddered at the memory of the claw coming down on him, of the cold certainty that he was about to die. He snuggled more into his brother and Steve responded in kind.

"I know," he whispered, but even that came out shaky and almost pathetic.

"We're still here. We're here. I've got you now."

Dustin nodded in acknowledgement, unable to say anything more. But they didn't really need to. They never had.

So much went unspoken between them.

Too much.

The memory of Steve's shocked face flashed in front of his eyes and something clenched in his chest.

"Steve?"

"Hm?"

"You know I love you, right?"

There was a slight pause at the words and they hung between them, hesitant and anxious. They'd never said it. Yeah, of course, a joking 'love you too' following one flipping the other off wasn't an unusual occurrence, but they had never actually said it seriously. And even that was cut short after Eddie died. Just as they'd never said out loud that they were best friends. That they were brothers. And after the last eighteen months it felt more than necessary to be voiced.

Because Steve had looked so goddamn shocked on that stairwell, so dumbfounded that the memory still made Dustin feel sick. Sick with the thought that Steve might've simply not known how fucking loved he was. How important he was.

"I know I said stuff," he continued, unable to take the silence any longer. "Bad stuff. And did shitty stuff too. But I didn't mean it. I didn't-" he could feel his eyes begin to water but he didn't bother with stopping it. "I don't think you're stupid, and I don't think you're fake, and I don't- okay, yeah, you can be an asshole, but so can I, you know, and it doesn't really matter because it's us and I love you and I realised I've never actually said it and I need you to know."

"I do. I know," came Steve's soft voice, shaking slightly on the edges. "I know. I love you too."

Something both warmed his chest and squeezed it painfully. Of course he did. And of course he would just let the past go and forget all about the shit thrown his way. He still loved Nancy after she broke his heart. He'd never admitted how much that hurt but Dustin was smart. He knew. Steve still loved his parents, even though they'd basically abandoned him, if their constant absence and Steve's off-hand comments were anything to go by. He loved the Party despite them dragging him into more and more trouble. And apparently he still loved Dustin, even though he'd been too lost in his own shit to care for anything or anyone. Too messed up in his fear to see that it had been only making things worse.

Anyone Steve Harrington loved was the luckiest person in the world.

And the most terrified too. Because there was nothing Steve wouldn't do to protect those he loved.

"I can't lose you," he whispered, pressing himself even closer to his best friend. The hand in his hair stopped the lazy strokes, instead cradling his head in that brotherly, protective way, and Dustin melted into the affection, into lips pressed to the top of his head, into arms holding him firmly in place, safe from he world.

"You won't. It's not so easy to get rid of me, Henderson."

He couldn't help but chuckle at that. God, he hoped that would be true, even though Steve had proven it countless of times, coming back from the most impossible situations. It couldn't quite register in his head yet that they were safe. There still was that lingering thought that he would realistically lose Steve one day, because nothing lasted forever. There still could be an instance of his best friend not getting up anymore. And it terrified him. But he did it best to push it down, focusing on the steady heartbeat under his cheek instead.

They were far from healed. So so far from even resembling what they used to be. Maybe they never would be those people again. But for tonight it was enough. For tonight, they were alive and they had each other. For tonight, they were alright.

Synopsis:

“Hey, look at me, look at me!” Sanemi calls, firmly yet carefully clasping his hands to the sides of your face, begging your wavering attention to find focus within his resolve.

Tears leak from your eyes, your gaze fluttering to the walls around you, finding focus on the body of a bloodied slayer splayed across the ground.

“Hey!” You hear Sanemi’s brash call, his hands closing on your cheeks, softly shaking you back into the present. Your mind is still dazed with grief.

“Focus!” He pleads, “When you’re here you can’t do this, you’re gonna get yourself killed, you hear me?” He screams, desperation leaking from his solid stupor.

“Caring makes you weak,” Sanemi scolds, snapping your wide-eyed gaze to him, but before you can even think to respond, the shrill cries of a crow break through the stillness of the ringing of your ears. - -- One night will end it all. As the soul heir to an upper-rank demon, this one night will determine how your fate will be sealed.

Will Sanemi have to carry your corpse from the confines of the Infinity Castle? Or worse, Will Sanemi's last words to you be the same of a demon?

Warnings for this fic include:

Angst, Gore, SA / Illusions to previous SA, Assault / Illusions to previous assault, Blood, Injury, Fighting, PTSD, Suicide / Suicide Attempt and Ideation, Spoilers, Flashbacks, Family Issues, Character Deaths, Sappyness, Angst/Fluff (manga references but I won't say which parts are so it keeps you on your toes/you never really know what is real/what is mine:) )

Please heed the warnings and enjoy! Drop a like/comment to let me know what you think <3 Taglist is OPEN, so drop a comment or send an ask to join in

Note: I have not - nor will I ever - use AI to write or edit any works. This is an AI free blog; all my errors and posts are mine and mine alone :)🤍

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Devils on Vacation AU

Summery (but not really):

Lucifer took a break from ruling Hell—at the insistence of his daughter and her mother. He enjoys the free time he has by committing to and revisiting his hobbies, but as days pass he grows quite lonely in the house he acquired with his powers. Luckily he’s located next to the lively town of New Orleans! As soon as he takes a step into its streets, he can hear unfamiliar styles of music, so energetic and unpredictable. His eyes wander around the building deciding to enter the one with a sign saying “La Bouff Diner” with engravings of baked goods and tea cups on it. As soon as he opens the door, the bell rings above him, and a charming young chambermaid welcomes him nervously. He was told he could take a seat anywhere, so he chose to sit by the diner's windows. The chambermaid took his order and left to inform the cook. Now from the inside. Lucifer takes in the view of the street; little kids playing games, ladies chatting on the benches, and young boys selling newspapers—now that he thinks of it he should have taken one on his way in—learning more about this period wouldn’t be so bad.

Finishing his breakfast consisting of a few Beignets and a cup of sweet tea Lucifer preparing to leave asks the chambermaid if she knows of any bakeries around here that are good, she points him in the direction. After he leaves she notices the generous tip he had left.