#z.fic

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user fka oyasumiaow

mostly mdzs with a light sprinkling of tgcf, svsss, and word of honor/tyk

plus whatever else catches my fancy

After Jack gets his soul back, he realizes things will never be how they were. But they might be close. Slightly divergent from canon in small ways. @dawg-motif ty for the idea

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“I’d like… for things to go back to the way they were.”

His voice was careful, measured, hitting the right intonations to convey fondness, to appeal to fatherly instinct, to appease. He’d picked out exactly what he wanted to say and how he’d say it. I regret it. The… accident. 

___

They’d filled up his room after he died, crowding the empty space with tangible, but forgettable things. Moldy boxes, swords and masks, clay pots that occasionally let off sour-smelling fumes, an entire tarnished tea set that had a sign reading DO NOT STARE AT REFLECTION taped to the teapot. Books, stacked horizontal all the way up to the ceiling, covered an entire wall, the spines buckling out under their own weight. Unreachable and unreadable.

They’d moved his typewriter. He’d only used it once; pressing the stiff keys and listening to the reluctant click when they popped back up. It sounded like Sam’s creaky knees, which made him smile. He smudged his fingers with ink that had once been black as he poked around inside, trying to see how the machine worked, pulling his hand out in surprise when a rusty gear snagged the delicate skin on his knuckle. It stung for a second, then smoothed over, the small smear of bright blood sinking back under his skin. 

Focus broken, he wandered back to the library, leaving little dark fingerprints all over the keys, desk, bedspread, and trailed along the tile wall in the hallway. Sam grabbed his hand when he reached for the book Sam was looking at, and gave him a long lecture about the proper conservation of historical archives, dirty fingers, and asking before you touch. 

He didn’t play with the typewriter again. At first because he was ashamed, then because he was resentful that Sam had snatched him and told him off like a misbehaving child, and then because his soul was gone and he didn’t really care anymore. 

_____

He’d barely noticed, before, that he’d been transplanted ("Only down the hall," Sam had said with eyes that said he was sorry), but now, with tears that never really dried stinging his eyes and an ache in his chest that felt heavy, suffocating, threatening to climb up into his throat and choke him, he could hardly stand it. His soul felt like a burning rock too hot to wrap his hands around. Now, through his blurry tears, he finally understood.

___

The air glimmered with dust particles when he flicked on the light; the draft from the hallway banishing them to darker corners of the room. He avoided the effigies and cut-glassware, careful not to trip over anything either. But he wasn’t human, he wouldn’t trip, and he probably couldn’t be cursed either. 

The wall of books was one faded grayish color, each book defined by a fuzzy outline. Jack edged closer, weaving between boxes, and ran a light finger over one of the spines, trying to make out the faint golden lettering. When it didn’t crumble under his touch, he brushed harder, blowing on it. Dust flew in his face, and he sneezed. The lights flickered. There wasn’t really a biological reason for the reflex– his grace destroyed any invading particles before they could harm him, but it was stubbornly hardwired into his human form nonetheless. He sneezed again, and the overhead light shattered, sending sparks and pieces of glass flying. 

Boots thudded down the hallway and Dean skidded into the room, scanning for danger. He stopped short when his steps crunched on broken glass. He looked at Jack, then at the shattered ceiling light.

“I, um…” Jack began, wiping his nose on his sleeve. 

Jack hadn’t thought he’d ever hear Dean laugh again. 

hmmm idk what to say about it (it's pretty much pwp lol) so here's a snippet!

Lan Xichen intentionally rustled the brush as he stepped forward. “A-Yao,” he said.

Jin Guangyao whirled to face him, Hensheng pointed his way, his brow furrowed with the deep frown — practically a scowl — upon his lips.

“A-Yao, it’s me.” Even seeing him, this visage didn’t move. Lan Xichen tucked Liebing into his sleeve and held out his hands. Empty; unarmed; harmless.

“Er-ge?” His tone wasn’t entrely convinced. He had not put down his sword; his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Do you know the name of this blade?”

Lan Xichen blinked. “The name of — what? Your sword?”

“If you would.”

“A-Yao, I don’t understand.”

“If you answer, I will be overjoyed to explain.”

The flat sarcasm almost made Lan Xichen laugh — every time Jin Guangyao shared a dry, biting edge of his humor, he couldn’t help but feel an odd rush of delight — but he kept himself under control. Lan Xichen inclined his head. “Your spiritual sword, named Hensheng.”

The tense line of Jin Guangyao’s shoulders relaxed. “Thank you, er-ge.” Though he did not sheathe Hensheng, he at least stopped pointing the blade at Lan Xichen’s chest. His gaze darted around the brush and trees surrounding them.

“A-Yao, are you alright?”

After another moment, Jin Guangyao sighed and tucked Henshing back into its sheath encircling his waist. “Yes, of course.” He faced Lan Xichen again, this time with a familiar smile warming his features. “My apologies, er-ge. I encountered a creature which impersonated you. I had to be sure.”

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 天官赐福 - 墨香铜臭 | Tiān Guān Cì Fú - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Feng Xin/Mu Qing/Xie Lian (Tian Guan Ci Fu) Characters: Xie Lian (Tian Guan Ci Fu), Feng Xin (Tian Guan Ci Fu), Mu Qing (Tian Guan Ci Fu) Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Polyamory, Fluff, Light Angst, rated T for Feng Xin f-bombs Summary:

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Lan Huan | Lan Xichen/Meng Yao | Jin Guangyao Characters: Lan Huan | Lan Xichen, Meng Yao | Jin Guangyao Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Naked Cuddling, Bathing/Washing, Tenderness, Established Relationship, Gentle Kissing, Physical Abuse, Abusive Parents Summary:

“A-Yao, will you tell me what has happened?”

  This almost made Jin Guangyao laugh. He’d like to know that himself! He didn’t even remember coming back to his bedchamber. He remembered going to the Fragrant Palace to retrieve something he knew his father had never kept in a place like his office or other places of business; he remembered finding his stepmother there; he remembered the sound of porcelain breaking.

 --

Lan Xichen visits only to find Jin Guangyao injured worse than either of them expected.