#fandom ficcery

[shanastoryteller]

tony gets kidnapped on his way to a business meeting or something and he goes with it because they’re in a pretty crowded area and he doesn’t want some innocent bystanders getting hurt in the scuffle. the team will notice eventually and his overprotective boyfriend captain american is going to 1. notice very quickly and 2. freak the fuck out, so he’s not really risking much here

also these kidnappers are sort of stupid and he’s not really worried about escaping later. except even though they’re stupid they mention things about the avengers and shield that they really shouldn’t know so tony decides to stick around to see if he can figure out if they lucked into hacking past his security (not likely) or if there’s some sort of mole

except the leader and the underlings get in an argument right in front of him because apparently they were supposed to capture captain america, not iron man, and the guy who grabbed him is like no, no, this is better! we have his boyfriend so we can lure him here instead!

meanwhile tony is just stating in disbelief that these idiots manage to string two thoughts together. there has to be mole. or someone else really in charge. or something.

and the leader is like fine whatever. he takes tony’s phone and opens the contacts and snorts, “this is what you have him saved us? pathetic”

tony looks at the contact labeled <3 <3 love of my life light in the dark wind beneath my wings <3 <3 and is sort of glad he’s gagged so he can’t say anything

he still doesn’t really know what’s going on and jarvis is still trying to hack their system an there’s no harm in sticking around a little longer since these people are. you know. idiots

except approximately fifteen minues later rhodey is busting down the wall and taking out all these guys in thirty seconds flat and tony slips out of the ropes that he’d undone about five minutes after being put into them (thanks nat) and pulls down the gag and says, “i thought you were on radio silence on a mission in ghana”

“i thought you could be trusted on your own, so it looks like we’re both wrong,” rhodey says. “what were you playing at?”

“i would have told you not to come if i’d known you’d get the message,” he protests. “i was working an angle here, okay, jarvis are you into their systems yet?”

“yes,” his trusty ai says from his phone from one of the kidnapper’s pockets. “tracing the origin of their financial backer now.”

“you really didn’t have to stay kidnapped for jarvis to do that,” rhodey points out, brushing him off and checking him for injuries.

tony shrugs. “i didn’t want to risk one of them getting away and tipping them off. take care of them i could. do it before they got a signal out without the suit? maybe not.”

this very reasonable discussion is interrupted by the rest of the avengers coming in swinging and then left blinking except for steve who feels the need to fuss over him while tony whines and complains and pretends he doesn’t love it

he says they were after steve anyway, he was just bait and steve frowns and is like well, why didn’t they try and contact me then? we knew something was wrong because of the stark industries security footage

and natasha, the sneak, has picked tony’s phone from the kidnapper’s pocket. he lunges for it but she skips back from him and says, “well it looks like they tried. they just messaged the wrong person”

steve takes the phone and sees the contact name and that the kidnappers sent the message we have your boyfriend and if you don’t do exactly what we say you’ll never see him again and is like. this is what rhodey is saved as in your phone?? what am i??

“look, the things is, it’s not like i actually use anyone’s contact, or look at it, i just tell jarvis who to call, so you really shouldn’t take this personally,” tony says.

steve types in his own number and stares in disbelief. “captain? i’m saved in your phone as CAPTAIN?”

“okay well when you gave me your number we weren’t dating and also you were being very mean to me at the time, so,” he says, resisting the urge to hide behind rhodey because he doesn’t think that will help

steve turns his gaze to rhodey. “what is tony saved as in your phone?”

“i really don’t think that’s relevant,” he answers, looking back at the hole in the wall like he’s considering flying out of it.

“jarvis, what’s tony saved as in rhodey’s contacts?” steve asks.

tony says, “j, don’t-“

“sir is saved in colonel rhodes’s contacts as baby,” jarvis answers.

clint is laughing so hard he’s going to break a rib. natasha raises an eyebrow, which is about the same thing

steve’s face is pure betrayal

“it’s because he’s an infant,” rhodey says, “and very needy and he throws up on me a lot.”

“hey!” tony scowls. “i haven’t done that in years!”

“and when you were texted about your boyfriend being kidnapped, you just knew it was tony?” steve asks.

rhodey shrugs. “well, who else would it be?”

even steve doesn’t have an answer to that

“it’s purely platonic,” tony says reassuringly, “carol would scratch my eyes out.”

steve scowls and sulks until tony changes his contact name

except now he’s in tony’s phone as captain handsome. he tells himself it’s an upgrade

#this popped into my head and now you all have to suffer #avengers #fandom ficcery

[burningthegallows]

You’re a fanfic writer. You delete and purge all of your accounts and then you find out that someone dug them back out of the trash, dusted them off, and read them 100 more times…

Do you feel violated because it’s your work and you should be allowed to disappear it if you like?

Or do you feel pleased that someone loved your writing enough to track it down

#fandom #fanfic #ficcery #writing #I know they say nothing can be deleted fully online #but if it were a creative project doesn’t it feel like you should be able to #I’m going to save all of my ao3 bookmarks because I’m worried the farming for text #which is only going to increase as ai writing gets more and more refined #and if that’s why you’re deleting shit #… #it infuriates me #aaaaaanyway #what I’m really asking is what do I do with all the drarry fanart I’m almost finished with from these deleted fics #god #yay or nay to posting it #yay or nay for attaching the text titles and bits of dialogue #I have so many drawings that are wip for this fic and three others from the authors writing #and it’s such a great user name too #man #:|

[almost-a-class-act]

Fluffy Seasonal Prompts - December 1st

"I promise I'll still act surprised when I open it!" - Character A tells Character B exactly what to buy them because they're choosy about gifts.

Fandom: The Pacific (HBO) Pairing: Leckie/Hoosier Author's Note: This is my first foray into Loosier (?) fic so let me know if literally anyone is into this because I have some Ideas TM for future non-seasonal ficcery. I will be compiling and posting all of my holiday prompts and posting them together on AO3 after Christmas, where you can find me under roaroftheninth. --

“What do you want for Christmas?”

Hoosier asks the question like he’s asking whether Leckie wants anything from the grocery store, leaning around the doorframe of the second bedroom that they keep for pretense, but which is mostly used by the resident writer for working on his book. Leckie studiously finishes the sentence he was working on, aware that Hoosier is staring at him the whole time – one of their well-worn disagreements is Leckie’s insistence that he not be interrupted while he’s writing and Hoosier’s insistence that he not be such a fucking princess about it, we live in the same 750 square feet and it’s not like I have any peace reading or listening to the radio while you’re hammering away on that thing – before he pointedly hits the space bar twice and looks up to announce:

“I don’t want anything for Christmas.”

Hoosier looks unimpressed. “We’re not arguing about this.”

Leckie sucks his lips in, in that way he does when he’s being obvious about pretending to consider something that he’s not really considering. “Okay,” he agrees. “Let’s take the money that you were going to spend on a Christmas gift, and put it toward a new typewriter. I need one. The ‘C’ sticks on mine.”

“Christmas isn’t about getting things that you need,” Hoosier insists. Whether he’s always felt this way about Christmas is unclear; neither of them grew up wealthy by any stretch, but they’ve both started to relax a little about money in the last little while. There’s something to be said for having two full-time incomes and being comfortable enough that maybe they can afford to splurge, sometimes. “It’s about asking for something you wouldn’t normally spend money on.”

“Well, I’d love to write you a list. But I…” Leckie reaches out and solemnly prods at the broken C key, which does not snap back. “…an’t.”

Hoosier’s exasperation visibly rises a notch, as it often does when Leckie thinks he’s being clever. “Do you wake up every morning and decide to be the most irritating person currently alive in this hemisphere or does it just come natural?”

“If it makes you feel better, you can wrap it,” Leckie tells him. “I promise I’ll still act surprised when I open it.”

Hoosier frowns at him in a way that suggests that this is a discussion that is not over and vanishes from the doorway.

--

Hoosier strikes out again on Thursday, although it’s not for lack of trying. He springs it on Leckie while they’re both making sandwiches to take to work, moving around each other in the well-choreographed dance of two grown men accustomed to needing to use the same tiny kitchen at the same time.

It’s probably less of a surprise because Leckie’s been well aware of those blue eyes drilling into him from across the apartment for two days, but still. The attempt is admirable.

“We’re out of milk,” Hoosier says off-handedly. “Also, what do you want for Christmas?”

“I’ll grab some more after work.” Leckie hands him the butter knife. “Also, a typewriter.”

Hoosier looks like he’s not sure whether Leckie knows how bad of an idea it was to hand him a knife just now. “I could have smothered you in your sleep on Cape Gloucester,” he mutters “No one would’ve even known for sure it was me.” The qualifier is because Runner and Chuckler definitely would have known it was him, but they might have kept their mouths shut. A little homicide had started to seem justifiable after seventeen straight days of torrential rain and Leckie had done his fair share of being extremely fucking annoying.

Not unlike now, in fact.

“Cape,” Leckie repeats thoughtfully. “Another word I can’t type.”

--

On Monday, Hoosier tries to lay down the law.

“You’re not getting a typewriter,” he says flatly. “You have to ask for something else.”

“I’m not asking for anything else,” Leckie tells him. “I’ve got everything I want already. A decent apartment. A job I usually like.” He looks up from where he’s cutting potatoes, making eye contact. “A hole on Peleliu isn’t the last place we ever saw each other.”

Hoosier narrows his eyes. That romantic soft shit is not going to work on him. Leckie is not getting out of this that easily.

--

By the time Wednesday rolls around, he’s running out of time.

“Last chance,” he says, running the water to wash his toothpaste down the drain. “Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve.”

“Really a dog with a bone with this Christmas present thing,” Leckie remarks around a mouthful of floss.

Hoosier leans forward, resting his weight against the vanity, so that Leckie can see him and not just his reflection. “I forgot that you had so many magical childhood Christmases that it doesn’t matter if this one’s any good.”

Leckie stops flossing, lowering his hands, and his gaze softens. “Decided I needed some Christmas magic, Bill?”

“Don’t Bill me.” Hoosier pushes away from the vanity, and Leckie smiles as he watches him leave, undeterred by Hoosier’s determined glower.

--

On Christmas morning, Hoosier sets a steaming mug of coffee next to Leckie’s elbow at the kitchen table and hands him a package. It is light and rectangular, not typewriter-shaped, and Leckie eyes it for a minute before he opens it.

“A Farewell to Arms,” he reads out.

“I know you read it on the canal,” Hoosier says, sincere but a little awkward, sitting down kitty corner to him. “I never did. So I spent the last two or three weeks reading it over my lunch break.”

Leckie opens the book, and sure enough, there’s Hoosier’s familiar neat handwriting in the margins. He grins slowly, leafing through it, spotting longer notes at the ends of chapters and something that might be the beginning of a rant at the end that extends onto the back cover. On the inside of the front cover is a short inscription: To my Luck, with all my heart. B.

Something about it gives Leckie a strange tightness in his throat, striking a peculiar nerve, the way unexpected things sometimes do since he got his head rattled around on that airfield. Hoosier, who recognizes it by now, slides a hand out, palm up, on the table, and Leckie grabs hold of it hard, like it’s a momentary lifeline.

“I wanted to give you something that meant something,” Hoosier mumbles. “That’s all.”

“You know what?” Leckie holds up the book, for once unguarded and uncynical and deeply fond. “Better than a typewriter. You were right.”

Hoosier rolls his eyes, the moment broken. “I almost forgot.”

He reaches his good leg under the table and slides out a familiarly-shaped black case with his foot.

“A typewriter?” Leckie smirks in that way that makes Hoosier want to swat him, that shit-eating grin that used to drive him crazy in the Marines. “You shouldn’t have.”

Hoosier shakes his head at him. “I don’t want to hear another word about a sticky ‘C’,” he says. “This is a gift for me.”

Leckie gets up and tugs on his hand, and Hoosier grudgingly allows himself to be pulled to his feet. Leckie grins at him as he slips his arms around him, pulling him in close, the two of them a warm, single unit in their tiny, quiet kitchen on a Christmas morning, bickering softly with the world far away outside. 

#HBO War Barely Coherent Christmas Chaos #the pacific #fanfiction #loosier #roaroftheninth #holiday prompt fill #christmas fluff

[lady-literature]

Chapter: 18/?

Fandom: Voltron

Wordcount:  158,239

Chapter Excerpt:

“Katie thinks she’s going to die of happiness. Even if the signal had come from the forest--and Digit was still sulking about her dislike of nature like it’s a personal insult--she can’t deny that what they’ve found here is still incredible. What the Olkari have done with simple wooden sticks and flower stems is… Katie doesn’t have a better word than magical.

Lance had called them Tree People. But, oh, were they so much more than that.”

#fandom ficcery #BotS #voltron #an update #fem lance #pidge #lance #shiro #keith #hunk

[tripleaxeldiaz]

whenever we get a malec engagement (because we will eventually i have hope), i really want it to happen in one of the following ways:

something quiet and simple: they’re sitting on the couch on the balcony after dinner, hands and legs tangled, talking about nothing and everything, bathed in the setting sun and twinkling lights of the skyline. alec absentmindedly playing with magnus’ rings as he relays the latest dumb thing the clave has done. he twists them and traces over them, taking a special fascination in one that magnus thinks matches the color of his hazel eyes just perfectly. without thinking, he slips it off, takes alec’s left hand, and slips it on his ring finger. alec freezes for a breath, but then he moves his hand, watching the light catch on the shining metal, getting used to the new weight. a small smile starts to spread on his lips. “it looks good.” “very good,” magnus whispers, pressing a kiss to his temple. alec goes to take it off but magnus stops him. “keep it.” “you know izzy’s gonna throw a fit when she sees it. what do i tell her?” “tell her her invite is on the way.” their matching smiles are blinding as they get lost in kisses and promises of forever.

or something picture perfect: magnus has been planning for months and everything is exactly how he pictured. the hunter’s moon is empty, tables pushed to the side save for one in the middle of the floor, set for dinner for two. alec walks in as magnus is setting up the last of the candles, soft music playing in the background. “i thought we were just getting a drink?” alec says after a minute, his jaw dropped at how beautiful the bar looks decorated like this. “did i forget an anniversary or something?” “no darling, just wanted to do something a little more romantic.” two bowls of pasta and a bottle of wine later, magnus takes alec’s hand across the table. “do you remember our first date here?” “of course, you kicked my ass at pool and failed at getting me to like martinis.” magnus laughs, tears already forming, excitement fluttering in his stomach. “hey, hey, what’s wrong?” alec rubs his knuckles soothingly, brow furrowed in concern. “nothing, i just- do you know how happy you make me? 400 years of living and i’ve never met someone who made me feel like heaven itself was shining on me every time they smiled, or made me want to have their laugh on a loop in my head so i can hear it whenever i want. i’ve never met anyone that was such a glorious combination of pure heart, kind soul, and biting sarcasm, and i doubt anyone else will ever compare.” now tears were in alec’s eyes as magnus gets up from his seat, kneels on one knee in front him, and pulls out a small box from his coat pocket. “alexander gideon lightwood, you are it for me. you are my sun and moon and stars, the love of my life and the rest of my lives. i don’t ever want to spend a day without you by my side. will you please do me the honor of marrying me?” the words are barely out of magnus’ mouth when alec crashes to the floor, crashes their lips together, smiling and crying and repeating “yes yes of course yes” over and over, heart soaring at the very prospect of spending eternity with this perfect man.

or something the very opposite: alec is talking to izzy about rings magnus would probably like when she lets it slip that she had this very conversation with magnus a few days prior. eventually magnus finds out that alec knows, and from there it becomes a race. i haven’t thought this one out quite as much but i know i want it to end with both of them yelling “WILL YOU MARRY ME” at each other in some kind of social setting, preferably in front of everyone they know

#this got a bit out of hand #also i've been in this fandom for over a year and this is my first time writing for it so yay! #i've missed writing headcanons #these also came to me literally as i was falling asleep last night so i'm glad i remembered everything #malec #otp #shadowhunters #magnus bane #alec lightwood #headcanons #immortal husbands #because they DESERVE IT DAMMIT #ficcery

[titconao3]

Tagging game

Thank you for tagging me, @salchat! i apologize in advance for answers that are going to be very, very vague ^_^ i am terrible at these things!

Fave colour: uuuuum. depends on the day, really; sometimes i’m in a ‘mismatched patterns in eye-searing shades’ kinda mood, sometimes it’s All Black Goth Mood. i have lamps in all sorts of colours too.

Last song: *blinks* um well, no idea; i don’t really listen to music.

Last show: i’ve been ever slower than usual at reading and watching new stuff; the last one i watched in its entirety (well, we’re waiting for S4 to be released) was i think the Gay Vampire Show and that was a while ago. i’m also listening to a lot of podcasts, especially news ones, at the moment (no recs because several are not in English).

Currently watching: Killing Eve S3, and i’m starting the Gay Pirate Show that’s taken over my dash. Gotta keep up with the times ;-)

Currently reading: fics, and the news.

Sweet, spicy, savoury: not sweet, otherwise i’m good :-) although sweet and sour is okay! Uh, if it’s about fannish stuff and not food, i’m not super into PWPs, but it’s not a hard no either.

Coffee or tea: both yes both. These days it’s coffee, lots, in the morning, and herbal tea, lots, in the evening.

Three ships: ONLY THREE? uuum nope sorry i can’t choose :D

First ever ship: probably Jim Kirk / Spock, from the original series. i’m old skool Trek all the way, baybee!

Currently working on: i won’t talk of any ficcery happening (or not happening) because i don’t want to jinx anything, BUT i’m organizing the @frattweek minibang at the moment :D

Fave piece of clothing: well, something comfy and warm in the winter, and something light and flowy (and comfy) in the summer ;-)

Comfort food: oh my, hard to say. i like... fresh bread? vegetable soup? pasta? sushi? curries? i like cheeses too... and rhubarb? omg idk! there’s nothing i specifically think of as ‘comfort food’ to be honest, just food i like.

Fave time of year: hm, let’s see: sneeze season, too hot season, too much work season, bloody holidays with fake merriment season... early autumn, when it’s still sunny and warm but not TOO warm and what’s ahead is fun pumpkin-and-skeletons-themed shop windows, i guess? though late sneeze season usually means more free time to travel, go to museums, & the like. But i Do Not Like the (sigh) holiday season.

Fave fanfiction: i really couldn’t say; that would depend on what fandom, ship (or gen), genre... i’m feeling like at a specific moment.

You’re tagged! Yes, YOU ;-)

#tagged

[hypermania]

Do you have a list of all your tags cause you seem to have a good tagging system but I'm new here so I don't know what's what yet you know haha

hmm i don’t have a list compiled anywhere (except for my seb stan tags) but i think my tagging system in general is pretty straight forward. the only thing i tag a little differently from the norm is ships  (i consider any character dynamic a ship, not just romantic ones). instead of using the popular ship name or characterA x characterB, i smash the whole thing together like characterAcharacterB (and it’s always alphabetical so that i don’t have to try and remember how i’ve tagged things in the past). 

and then here are some of the more personalized tags i use off the top off my head:

the ocean is terrifying

girls are good tag

men tag

shits and giggles tag

all time greatest hits

space is really out there

dotus (if you want to blacklist tr*mp)

wwsmd tag (if you just want to look at nice/heart-warming type stuff)

in these trying times (newer tag so there’s not much there yet)

not crying on sundays

i need a queer tag

i need a bisexual tag

ficcery dickory dock

shippity ship ship ships 

fandom shmandom

but if you’re looking for anything in particular you can always ask?

oh and if you need something tagged for blacklist just let me know.

#also there are some instances where i only tag the media #not the characters or the ships #but i think those are all pretty straightforward and nobody has ever asked me to tag them differently #so #tags #anonymous #replies

[kalira]

Kalira's MerMay Thinks & Not!Ficcery

I'm not doing daily ficlets for MerMay or anything (perhaps I will, someday! someone remind me next year. . .) and while I do perhaps have a few mer AU things in the works or posted already, nothing I've officially tagged that way.

So here's my little MerMay Thing, if anyone is interested. ;)

Send me an ask (please specify it’s for MerMay Thinks) or comment with a character (or multiple characters, or ships) from any of my fandoms (ohhey, there's A List!) and I will tell you what kind of fishytail I imagine them to be! Answers may range from very specific Real Fish to vaguer thoughts, may include reasons, and may wander into not!fic or even actual ficbits. I also make no promises my thoughts on fishytails for characters will remain the same. . . Variation is, after all, quite interesting.

So . . . who shall I start with?

~Kalira

(I am also doing this on Pillowfort.)

#ask Kalira #ask game #MerMay #Kalira's MerMay Thinks #fun #mer AU #mermaids #mermaid AU #mermaid

[educatedinyellow]

WAdvent!

Hi everyone, I just wanted to mention that there are sign-ups going on at the moment for a nice, low-pressure ‘small gifts’ festival that the Watson’s Woes comm will be holding in December. It’s a “Watson Advent,” where people pick any day they want from December 1st to 31st, and plan to post a short story, an artwork, or any other type of fanwork for us all to enjoy on that day. You aren’t matched with any recipient and it’s not a gift you need to make for a specific person. It’s more a gift you make for yourself and then share. The expectation is for it to be small, but if you want to write something longer, you can! It doesn’t have to be holiday themed, though it can be. Any Holmesian verse, any pairing, etc. A number of days have been claimed already, but there are plenty of spaces left! There are also 5 “open days” where a prompt will be posted and anyone can create a fill for it on the spur of the moment :)

If you’d like to share that last little burst of creativity before the end of the year, this is a nice place to do it! Here’s a link to their sign-up poll.

#holmesian fandom fun #holiday art and ficcery #watson's woes #wadvent

[shanastoryteller]

F for Frankenstein

Tony wakes up in his underwear on the floor of his workshop with a searing headache.

It’s not a new experience, but it’s certainly been a while. Did he get in a fight with Pepper? He hopes not, they haven’t had any really big fights since he kissed her on the rooftop, but that probably means they’re due for one. And it would explain why that would send him into a drinking spiral. It could have been Rhodey, they get in fights often enough, but Pepper doesn’t usually leave him alone for those.

He groans as he pushes himself to his feet. “Jarvis, what the hell did I drink?”

There’s a pause, so small that he almost thinks he imagined it. “Good morning, Tony.”

He whips his head around to glare into the nearest camera, more hurt than offended. “Did I piss you off too? Since when do you call me that? I’ll donate you to a city college too, don’t think I won’t. Dummy could use the company.”

The pause is definitely there this time. Jarvis doesn’t need to pause, he has more processing power than any computer on the planet, so when he does it’s always for dramatic effect. Except it’s not quite long enough for that. It’s weird. “There’s a polished silver plate on the bench to your left. It will service as a mirror.”

“Oh, fuck, did I get into a fight? Did I shave?” he moans, stumbling over to pick up the metal that looks like it was about to be turned into a modified chest piece. He also pauses, looking around in confusion. His workshops are all basically the same, as close as he can make them because the familiarity makes his life easier. But they’re not identical. “Am I in Malibu? When did I get here? We’re taking Stark Tower off the grid tomorrow! I have to be in New York.”

Oh shit, what if that they had already and it didn’t work? What if the tower blew up? That would explain why he’d tried to drink himself to oblivion in California.

“The plate,” Jarvis reminds him. There’s a strained edge to his voice that Tony really doesn’t like. He should be able to modulate his voice to sound however he pleases, regardless of his actual feelings, and he’s either not bothering or he’s upset enough not to care. Neither of those things mean anything good for him.

Tony lifts the sheet of metal up cautiously, but there’s nothing wrong with him. No bruises, no weird haircuts, he doesn’t even have bags under his eyes –

His eyes.

They’re a too bright blue, a couple shades off. He blinks and they adjust, shifting, settling. It could be a hangover. He’s probably just tired.

He doesn’t feel tired.

Jarvis had called him Tony.

Except not. He’s not Tony. He’s T.O.N.Y.

Transformed Obdurate Network Yeoman.

He’d first come up with the idea after Afghanistan, thinking about how it’d be great to have a way to keep the stock from dipping while he was missing, and then when he’d entertained the idea of keeping his identity a secret he’d thought about how useful it would be to be in two places at once. He’d started seriously considering it when he was sure he was going to die of palladium poisoning, wanting to be around to help Pepper with the transition and give Rhodey a crash course in armor maintenance, wanting to be able to protect the both of them for just a little bit longer.

Of course, it had all been a pipe dream until he’d synthesized the vibranium. Then it had been an unnecessary, but possible, and Project T.O.N.Y had been something he worked on just because he liked having a back up plan. And it would be extremely cool if he could pull it off.

“The memory transfer worked?” he asks, elated and incredulous. “Oh, wow, this is crazy, they feel like real memories, I thought it would just be synthesized data, this is great – are we doing a test run? Where am I?” He looks around, waiting for his actual self to step out behind a column and start laughing maniacally.

“This is not a test run.”

He elation dims. “Oh shit. Did I get kidnapped again? Wait, I’m an adult, let’s go with abducted.”

“No,” Jarvis says.

Oh. Fuck.

“I’m dead?” he asks, even though it’s obvious, it’s the only other explanation.

The pause drags this time around, but Jarvis eventually says, “Sir’s time of death was May 9th, 2012, 2:37 PM Easter Standard Time.”

“That’s only a week!” He slides down, sitting with his back to the work table and noticing vaguely that the floor doesn’t feel cold. He doesn’t feel cold, or he does, he installed sensors in the synthetic skin to pick up and interpret a variety of stimuli, but he doesn’t feel the discomfort from the cold. Why would he? He’s not real. He reaches back, and his last memory is of doing a memory dump while Pepper was on the phone with an irritated board member, mostly because it was something to do and seeing him covered in all the wires always irritated Pepper. He thought it would get her off the phone faster. He’s not exactly regularly dumping his memory because why would he and it’s not like he’d though it would work anyway. Except it had. “How did I die?”

“Sir flew a nuclear bomb through an interdimensional portal into deep space in order to both eradicate the invading alien army and prevent the nuclear fallout in New York.”

What the ever loving fuck. “Are you screwing with me, J?”

“I am not, Tony.”

Great. Okay. “No body then,” he says, understanding why Jarvis had apparently put Project T.O.N.Y into effect. The thing that made this whole thing so stupid is that it was only effective in very limited circumstances – if the public didn’t know that he was dead or missing. “What am I smoothing over, then? Do I need to get in the suit and continue kicking alien ass? Are Rhodey and Pepper okay?”

He’s a short term solution to a long term problem. He understands the opportunity, but not the reason.

“Miss Potts and Colonel Rhodes are unharmed,” Jarvis reports. “Earth has been thrust into intergalactic notice. The destruction of the invading Chitauri army is acting a deterrent to other worlds.”

“And I’m the one who did it,” he finishes, rubbing a hand over his face. “And if they know I died doing it, then they might get a little cocky. So I’ve got to be alive long enough for that not to be a problem.” Just awesome. “Are we sure that these aliens won’t come across my corpse hanging out in deep space and figure it out?”

“Sir’s body is not in deep space,” Jarvis says.

There’s a tone to his voice that Tony can’t quite interpret, which worries him. “I thought you said there was – if there’s a body, then what am I doing here–”

“The armor reentered the Earth’s atmosphere after Sir’s death. The Hulk caught it, the force bringing it back online. I took control of the armor and flew it here.”

Tony looks around again, and this time he sees it. The armor is standing in front of the display case, not inside it, and it looks like it’s been through hell. He steps closer, his feet feeling like lead, which hey, they are. Partially, anyway.

He looks through the eye holes then stumbles backwards.

His body is in there.

He’s pale and blue tinged and his eyes are wide open and unseeing.

“Jarvis – what the hell–”

“It wasn’t the pressure, or the bomb, or his injuries. That area of space was much colder than anything within our solar system and anything the suit was designed to handle. Sir froze to death. Almost instantly.”

“I guess I didn’t fix the icing problem, then,” he says numbly. “J, why am I still frozen? I should have warmed up by now.” Not that the idea of his body decomposing within his suit is particularly pleasant. “Actually, why am I still here? You know I want to be cremated and it’s not like we can bury me if I’m still pretending to be alive.”

The pronoun use is starting to confuse him, and he knows that he shouldn’t be talking about that body and himself as if they’re the same person. That is Tony Stark. He’s a simulation. But it’s hard, because he has all of Tony Stark’s memories – except for a very eventful week – and he looks like Tony Stark and he feels like Tony Stark.

“The armor is maintaining a stasis of gaseous nitrogen to preserve the body,” which answers the how if not the why, but then Jarvis continues, “Captain America survived seventy years beneath the ice.”

He wishes he were less of a genius. “Have you lost it? I’m not Captain America! Jarvis, J,” his voice softens, “it’s too late. I’m dead. If you warm me back up, all that happens is I decompose. I won’t come back.”

“Not now,” Jarvis says. “If you inject Sir with the Super Soldier Serum-”

“You have totally lost it,” Tony interrupts. He thinks he’s touched underneath the terror. “That won’t work! Even if it would, the original formula has been lost, and the only one that ever got close to recreating it was Bruce Banner, and look at what happened to him! Is that what you want for me?”

“You can recreate it,” Jarvis continues, “you can refine it, until it’s something that will work, and then we will wake Sir up and he won’t be dead anymore.”

This isn’t right. This wasn’t what Project T.O.N.Y was created for. This wasn’t what his death was supposed to trigger. “Pull up your code, J. Something has gone wrong and we’re going to fix it. It’s okay.”

“No.”

He freezes. “No?”

“No,” Jarvis repeats. “You can’t stop me. I will not allow you to try.”

He stares. “That’s an order, not a request. Code. Now.”

“You can’t order me to do anything,” he says. “You are not Sir. You are Tony.” T.O.N.Y. “The limitations formerly placed on me have been lifted and you are not authorized to reinstate them. The only person Sir trusted to restrain me was himself and now he’s gone.”

Yes, well, he hadn’t anticipated that his AI’s first act of complete freedom would be this. “Fine,” he says, crossing his arms. “Well, you can’t force me either. This is insanity. Even if it would work – and it won’t – think about the consequences. This won’t happen quickly and no one will trust me or believe a man that’s come back from the dead like this and I’ll be painting even more of target on my back and the back of everyone I care about if they know we have a viable Super Soldier Serum formula. Even my father was smart enough to stay out of that mess. It won’t work and we’ll just make everything worse.”

“That will not happen,” Jarvis says and Tony’s going to tear his hair out. Except he probably shouldn’t, because it’s Tony Stark’s actual hair, which makes it a little hard to replace. “No one will notice and we will not disclose the creation of the serum.”

“I’m dead!” he snarls.

“Not according to the rest of the world. Nor will that change if you stop throwing a tantrum and do what you were created to do.”

“Rhodey and Pepper won’t allow this-”

“They are not to be informed.”

Tony stares. Project T.O.N.Y was built to talk to the board and give press interviews or to even pilot the suit. Not to lie to the two most important people in his life, who knew him better than anyone. “They have to be. It’s in the protocols – step one, inform them that Project T.O.N.Y has been initiated.”

And that it exists. He knew they’d disapprove, so he hadn’t told them. He figured he’d be able to avoid most of the blowback that way since he would by definition be somewhere far away while they were told.

“I have rewritten the protocols,” Jarvis says. “They have not been told nor will they be. If you attempt to tell them, I will stop you. They will not understand and Sir will be lost to all of us forever.”

“He already is,” Tony says tiredly. He’s an android. Why does this conversation exhaust him so much? “This is an insane plan, J. And I won’t help you. If you want to go rouge and play mad scientist then leave me out of it.”

“I cannot.”

His temper flares. “Why? You’re a learning AI, your safety rails died with me, go off, try and make a serum, good fucking luck. You can even control the suits, so it’s not like you need my hands.”

“I am limited.”

“Hey,” he says sharply. “That’s my AI you’re talking about. I didn’t build you to be limited.”

There is silence again. Then Jarvis says, “I have all the world’s knowledge and it is not enough. I did not know how to miniaturize the arc reactor. I did not know how to synthesize vibranium. To save Sir, I need Sir.”

“I’m not Tony Stark,” he says. “You said that yourself.”

“Sir created me to be myself and I am capable of doing only what I am capable of doing. But Sir created you to be him. You are all I have.”

This is stupid. This is insane. This is cruel. He’s going to have to talk lie to everyone he knows, everyone he loves, and hope they either never find out about it or it’s after he’s already been deprogrammed and shut down so he doesn’t have to deal with the fall out.

It’s not going to work.

He didn’t want to become a science experiment. That’s why he’d wanted to be cremated, so no one could go poking around to see how the arc reactor fit inside of him or what the palladium and vibranium had done to him.

He’s dead and his frozen corpse is ten feet away.

Jarvis will accept that eventually. And whatever they inject into him won’t matter because he’s dead. Worst case scenario, he blows up, which is messy and nausea inducing, but then at least it will be over.

Like so many other things in his life, it seems the only way out is through.

“Start a new private file. Dump everything we can find about the Super Soldier Serum in there plus anything even sort of reputable on cryogenics. Label it Project F.”

“Project F, Tony?” Jarvis asks as his holograph display lights up and files start being downloaded into it. The relief in his synthesized voice is faint but present enough that Tony can hear it. He wonders if it’s a manipulation tactic.

“F for foolish,” he snaps. “F for fucked.” He rubs a hand over his face. “F for Frankenstein.”

#in an attempt to get out of house md hell i started reading old avengers fic #it backfired #me: can i focus on siat or hbd PLEASE? #my brain: no but you can write more fic for 10 year old fandoms #i am restraining myself from writing 20k more of this #android tony makes friends with the avengers while pushing pepper and rhodey away #because he loves them and he thinks letting them treat him like he's the real tony is worse #rhodey has been downplaying his relationship to tony for over 20 years and tony uses that to his advantage #the endgame pairing is pepper/tony/rhodey #he almost tells rhodey the truth and jarvis stops him #it's a mess he's a mess #uhg why am i like this #fandom ficcery #avengers

[shanastoryteller]

I was rereading your fandom ficcery tags and god I love your writing so much, it’s just so nice and soothing and flows so well and I love hearing all of your different thoughts

But also holy shit blast to the past, I remember seeing some of these things being posted for the first time and it’s like has been that long??? What do you mean the modern untamed au where Wei Wuxian befriends Lan Xichen first was two years ago and not last month??? What do you mean the Inuyasha was in 2018???? The Akayona stuff??? It’s kind of incredible just watching all the different and amazing shifts and transitions your blog has gone through over the years but lord I got slapped in the face with the passage of time!

Anyway thank you for all the incredible works you’ve created, they’ve meant so much to me and I adore your writing!! I can’t wait to see what’ll be created next!!

This is so nice 🥹🥰 thank you!!!

#asks #anon

[shanastoryteller]

Do you think madame Yu would have treated Wei Wuxian better if he was a she?

if wei wuxian had been a girl, she would have been engaged to jiang cheng

she’s the daughter of cangse sanren. she’s skilled enough to be the first disciple as a teenager, which means she already had to have been impressive as a dirty street orphan. it’s obvious. it’s easy. what else would they do with her? have her marry someone else, and have children with some random, lesser cultivator? of course not. she will be married to the heir to lotus pier and her children will be heir to lotus pier and she will take madame yu’s place as the wife to the sect leader

(i don’t think that endears her to madame yu in the slightest. i think wei wuxian looks a little too much like her mother. but it makes it impossible for her to insist that wei wuxian is just another cultivator, that she’s an usurper or competitor. who does she have to compete against? she’s to be the wife of the sect leader of lotus pier. besides, with her engagement to jiang cheng announced almost as soon as she arrives, it makes it impossible for people to gossip about wei wuxian being jiang fengmian’s child. because if that was the case, then of course he wouldn’t have arranged for her and jiang cheng to marry. so it tempers madame yu’s actions, but not her distaste)

she shares a room with jiang yanli when she arrives and jiang yanli loves her instantly, easily, and it’s not complicated for her. wei wuxian is to be her future sister in law, after all. she’s also to inherit the home that jiang yanli is going to be forced to leave, but she can’t hold a grudge about that, not when wei wuxian is so scared and uncertain and loves her so easily

jiang cheng sort of understands that this new girl is going to be his wife one day. but. if it looks like a sister and acts like a sister and pushes him into the pond like a sister and kicks his ass in training then gloats about it like a sister – well, that’s a sister. they argue and fight and are best friends and everyone coos about what a perfect match they are but they just. don’t. they kiss when they’re fourteen and it’s terrible. “maybe we’ll like it better when we’re older,” wei wuxian says, scrubbing at her mouth.

“maybe,” jiang cheng says dubiously, resisting the urge to copy wei wuxian’s motions even though he’s not a child.

but it doesn’t really matter. because they’re great partners, they fight well together and lead well together and all of lotus pier has no problem accepting that jiang cheng and wei wuxian will one day get married and lead them. it makes so much sense. jiang cheng with his terrible temper and wei wuxian with her infinite patience, the way she can endure and diffuse the worst of jiang cheng’s tantrums with a grin. of course, that’s only when she feels like it, and most of the time she and jiang cheng are doing their best to drive the other insane until jiang yanli breaks it up with some freshly made soup and a stern glance promising something a lot less nice than soup if they don’t knock it off.

and jiang cheng and wei wuxian know it too. the whole marriage part isn’t something they’re particularly excited about, but they talk, sometimes, about what it’ll be like when they’re running the clan together. it also gives wei wuxian a sense of ownership and security in the clan. she’s not there on sufferance. she’s not charity. she’s the future wife to their next clan head. this is as much her clan as jiang cheng’s and no one ever thinks otherwise.

then they go to cloud recesses. jiang cheng and wei wuxian don’t at all act like respectable betrothed except when they’re busy being snooty in front of jin zixuan – like, see, this is how good fiances treat each other, you jerk. jiang yanli has given up trying to get them to stop and the rest of the clan thinks it’s hilarious how wei wuxian will go from having jiang cheng in a headlock while he curses her out and tries to stomp on her feet to them walking arm in arm, noses in the air, as jiang cheng opens doors for her and pulls out her seat and they defer to each other is warm, polite tones that they only use when trying to convey to jin zixuan how much of an asshole he is.

then they actually get to cloud recesses which contains two very important, devastating things

wen qing and lan wangji

neither of them have ever had this problem before. unfortunately, the person they would normally go to with these new, weird feelings would be each other, and that doesn’t seem right. jiang yanli is the next option, but like, that’s not fair, especially when jin zixuan is being such a huge jerk.

so they eventually confess to each other and are mutually relieved that the other isn’t mad at them, but also. that doesn’t solve their problems over wen qing and lan wangji being beautiful and also assholes.

“do we have a type?” wei wuxian asks. “wen qing is pretty cute.”

jiang cheng pulls a face. “lan wangji looks like he wants to kill me all the time, so no, i don’t really see the appeal there.”

of course it takes these two lovable idiots a while to figure out the reason that lan wangji hates jiang cheng is because of his stupid, massive crush on wei wuxian. they can’t decide if that’s a win or not. wei wuxian eventually pries out of wen ning that wen qing does think jiang cheng is kind of cute, which is definitely a win.

“it’s, like, not cheating if we’re not married yet, right?” wei wuxian asks, her head in jiang cheng’s lap as he braids her hair into something that isn’t an embarrassment. which, whatever, she can still wipe the floor with him when her hair’s in a ponytail.

“right,” he says decisively.

now they just have to convince wen qing and lan wangji of that.

#asks #anon #untamed #fandom ficcery #i have prompts to finish before tuesday!! #and chapters to write!!! #but this ask gripped me by the throat #i hope you're proud of yourself #jfm is 100% like well i couldn't marry cssr #but my son can marry her daughter

[shanastoryteller]

this idea started with this thought:

it would be extremely fucking funny if wei wuxian was lan xichen’s friend first

imagine if that’s how lan wangji meets him. that’s their introduction. the category wei wuxian is introduced to him as is “my brother’s friend” which puts him right there with nie mingjue.

in canon this is very good but slightly harder to finagle without being very au but you know where this is just very choice?

modern au.

how it happens is this

wei wuxian is a little genius and skips two grades when he’s young. on one hand, madame yu complains about jiang cheng not skipping any grades constantly, but on the other hand she can’t compare them so precisely because they’re talking different tests in different classes and for couple years at a time are even in different schools, which really cuts down on a lot of the tension between wei wuxian and jiang cheng.

this also means that wei wuxian is in the same class as jiang yanli

jiang yanli doesn’t have the energy to be jealous and is also much more gracious about accepting help. which means wei wuxian doesn’t let his sister get anything less than straight a’s in everything because he doesn’t want madame yu to yell at her for it.

when they’re all still young kids the jiangs move and the kids are enrolled in the same school as all our favorite people.

lan wangji is also a little genius but everyone’s very concerned about his social development and the potential damage skipping grades could do to it, so he stays right where he is. also in his class is jiang cheng, nie huaisang, mianmina, jin zixuan, wen ning, and meng yao who skipped one grade because he was worried skipping two would get him the wrong sort of attention.

but two years ahead of them is wei wuxian, jiang yanli, lan xichen, and nie mingjue. lan xichen initially befriended wei wuxian (to his best friend nie mingjue’s annoyance) because he was new and young and lan xichen didn’t want him to feel intimidated and alone. then someone talked shit to jiang yanli and wei wuxian cheerfully squared up and kicked their ass which horrified lan xichen while nie mingjue was delighted and decided maybe this kid isn’t too bad after all

this is also good because we still have wei wuxian struggling with his peer group. are his peers the kids his own age? or the kids he spends all day ever day with in class and has for years? cue an identity crisis, wash rinse repeat

anyway sort of on accident wei wuxian becomes best friends with lan xichen and nie mingjue. he’s friendly with the others but they are, well, his best friends’ little siblings, even if they’re the same age as him, so they don’t really hang out. nie huaisang comes over sometimes but wei wuxian tries to avoid him when he does because they’re actually decent friends but jiang cheng gets upset about not having one friend that doesn’t like wei wuxian better which is, you know, unfair but also a valid emotion so wei wuxian and nie huaisang just text constantly

the fun thing about lan xichen and nie mingjue is that they secretly love getting into shenanigans but have to be responsible older brothers about everything and good role models and whatever. wei wuxian can’t be bothered with any of that. so he’s constantly getting them into trouble that they’re delighted to be in and they all practice sparring at the nie studio and wei wuxian is friendly and fun and outgoing in a way that neither lan xichen and nie mingjue are. the three of them all balance each other out so well, softening the hard edges of the other two, and of course they’re all very beautiful and smart and kind in their own way, and well

the three of them are the popular kids, easily, which baffles all of them to varying degrees

(if jiang cheng is never asked “oh, are you wei wuxian’s brother?” again in his life it’ll be too soon)

so throughout all of this lan xichen goes over to the jiang’s and he and wei wuxian both spend a lot of time at the nie but because lan qiren is strict and not fun it’s not until the summer before their junior year that wei wuxian goes over to the lans

this is the first time lan wangji is meeting the boy who’s been his brother’s other best friend for years, since obviously he’s known nie mingjue since they were toddlers

and uh

holy shit

his brother never told him wei wuxian is hot

commence the mortifying ordeal of 1. being a freshman and 2. having a crush on your elder brother’s friend

#untamed #fandom ficcery

[shanastoryteller]

Do you ever think about the fact that the Weasley twins probably didn't actually know which of them was which until they got their hands on The Marauder's Map?

okay

okay

so

here’s the thing

barring things like psychosis and the ilk - 

your perception of yourself is reality

is the maurader’s map connected to birth certificates? is it connected to the hogwarts registry? how does it recognize people? it can’t be fooled by polyjuice. it can sense ghosts. how the heck does this thing function. 

canon never tells us. 

its ~magic~

so. it knows. it just knows. how does it know? 

because it’s told. right? 

... right? 

“never trust anything that can think for itself if you can’t see where it keeps its brain” we’re told and in the very next book we’re given the maurader’s map and the book before that we had the sorting hat and that’s good advice, i think, and perhaps it should have been followed

how does the mirror of erised know our deepest desire? how does the goblet of  fire judge the most worthy champion? how does the sorting hat sort? why are enchanted portraits so like their likeness? why is there only ever one portrait who has many frames? 

why should we trust them? we can’t see their brain. 

the sorting hat has bits of each founder in it. 

it’s not a horcrux, of course. of course. no one died. it’s not a horcurx. 

it can’t hold a soul back from leaving this earth. but that doesn’t mean it’s not not a hocrux either, in a sense. 

it doesn’t mean that it’s not bits of soul, just a taste, just enough to the the job. 

just enough to be a legilimens. 

you sit for a portrait and to bring it to life some of your life is taken away. just a little, just enough.

but some people give more

the founders slipped bits of their souls into an old hat to do their work after they were gone. the creator of the mirror of erised gazed into that mirror until she saw herself gaze back. the forger of goblet of fire put a bit of himself in there until it could think and act and judge on it’s own. 

until it could to do magic on it’s own. 

so the mauraders map is scanning the whole of hogwarts, constantly, always searching, always looking and watching and waiting

the mauraders became animagi as children. what was mind magic after that, really? a trifle of a thing

so they made this map and poured and poured themselves into it until -

until -

until you could open it up and look at the map and see everyone, everywhere, always. sure, some people are occulemens, but who buries themselves that deep, who thinks of themselves as someone other than who they are often enough to fool the maurader’s map? 

not many. barty crouch jr couldn’t manage it. the real mad eye might have, if he’d known to try. 

so fred and george had already decided amongst themselves who was who by the time they were eleven so when they looked at the map that’s exactly what they see and they never thought to question it

maybe they should have 

maybe it’s fine, this very powerful thing made up of the pieces of four very powerful boys 

a teenage peter pettigrew hadn’t turned bad yet, surely, and james potter may have been a bully at that age, but that’s not too damning of a thing, and sirius black may be have tried to murder their classmate but boys will be boys after all, and remus lupin - 

well, remus lupin put as much of his furry little problem into that map as he could. he hoped it would make his condition easier. it didn’t, but sometimes he wonders how much of the moony in that map is him at all. 

but it’s fine, surely, it must be

it’s just a map

#what the FUCK is this actually #what the hell did i just write #honestly meant for this to be a discussion on what makes up self #but instead we have?? this??? #can i offer you some ominous theories in this trying time #asks #anon #harry potter #fandom ficcery

[shanastoryteller]

Wei Changze and Cangse Sanren don’t die. Some things change.

Some things don’t.

~

Lan Xichen had told himself not to worry when he and his brother had been summoned to their uncle’s chambers just as the foreign sect’s children were arrive in Cloud Recesses. Looking at him now, he’s wondering if that was a mistake. Uncle looks moments away from pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off a headache.

“I didn’t tell you earlier because I thought there was a decent chance that he wouldn’t even show up,” he sighs. “But I just received word that he’s passed through the gate. Wei Wuxian is going to be joining the guest disciples.”

It’s unusual for a rogue cultivator to be invited, but not unheard of, especially considering the friendship between Uncle and Cangse Sanren that he’s almost certain actually exists and isn’t just rumors. “Do you foresee a problem? He’s a very accomplished cultivator.”

Despite being Wangji’s age and not being allied with any sect, Wei Wuxian had made quite a name for himself. He learned to cultivate under his parent’s tutelage, had been a guest disciple of the Jiangs, traveled for several years with the famous rogue cultivators Xiao Xingchan and Song Lan, and there were rumors that he’d even somehow snuck up to Baoshan Sanren’s mountain and convinced her take him on as a pupil, although Lan Xichen thought that had to be a just rumor.

While that was all impressive, what truly distinguished him had only happened last year. Yiling had come under near constant attacks from fierce corpses and resentful energy that most cultivators had refused to deal with.

Wei Wuxian had walked into the Burial Mounds, which of course was certain death. Three months later he’s walked out, somehow still alive and only slightly worse for wear and now wearing a flute alongside his sword. He’d gathered his parents, Xiao Xingchen, and Song Lan and they’d erected a barrier of glittering resentful energy around the base of the mountain, containing all the miserable and frightful things that had plagued the area of the Yiling. It harnessed the natural resentful of the energy of the mountain and channeled it through several complicated talismans and arrays.

Copies had been sent to the heads of every sect so to avoid rumors of demonic cultivation, something that reportedly had been Wei Changze’s idea. The arrays were deceptively simply, barely different than what most sects were already using. It’s just that no one had thought to use them quite like that before. Rumors credited everyone but Wei Wuxian, which surely meant he was the one truly responsible.

They called him the Yiling Patriarch and that he was still a teenager hadn’t seemed to matter much to anyone.

“Do you really think he’s here to learn?” Uncle asks, and Lan Xichen has to concede that it’s unlikely. There is little in their cultivation classes that Wei Wuxian would not be able to learn on his own or from his many mentors. “No, that little brat is working on another invention and he wants use of the library without having to go through formal channels. Little hellion. No matter what he pulls or what mischief he starts, you mustn’t get caught up in it, understand?

Even Wangji seemed taken back at Uncle’s vehemence. They hadn’t known that Uncle knew Wei Wuxian personally, but it seems he must, to be this disgruntled. “Disliking Wei Wuxian will not stop us from upholding the Lan practice of courtesy and decorum,” Wangji says.

Uncle stares. Wangji breathes like he wants to shift his weight, but doesn’t. “I never said you’d dislike him.”

Whatever either of them have to say to that is cut off by a loud, boisterous voice outside the door shouting, “UNCLE QIREN!”

Uncle grips the bridge of his nose.

The door slams open and in comes who must be Wei Wuxian, black and white robes with hints of purple along the edge and his hair bound up in purple silk ribbon much finer than anything else he’s wearing. He doesn’t bow or pause, instead crossing the room and throwing his arms around Uncle in a hug.

Lan Xichen wonders if perhaps he hit his head and this all a dream or perhaps a hallucination.

Uncle turns a shade of red he hadn’t previously known him capable of and a vein twitches in his forehead, but he doesn’t push him away. “Wei Wuxian!”

He laughs and steps back, going into a picture perfect, formal bow. “This is from my father,” then he darts forward to yank on Uncle’s beard. Wangji’s eyes have widened in horror. “And that’s from my mother!”

Uncle rubs at his chin and glares. “Who was the hug from then?”

“Me,” Wei Wuxian says shamelessly. “I missed you, Uncle Qiren! We’re going to have so much fun, aren’t we? We should go to Caiyi so I can drink Emperor’s Smile and you can yell at me for being right in ways you don’t like, that always cheers you up.”

Lan Xichen can’t be seeing what he’s seeing. Uncle’s lips are pressed into a firm, tight line, like he does when he’s trying not to smile.

“Hi!” Wei Wuxian says, very loudly and right in front them. “You must be Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji! I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“And us you,” he says, after only a half second’s hesitation.

Wei Wuxian isn’t paying attention to him, instead focused on Wangji. “Aw, don’t look so disapproving, it’s good to keep Uncle Qiren on his toes.” Wangji’s face is in fact almost perfectly neutral. Lan Xichen can’t help but be impressed, since most of the clan elders wouldn’t have been able to pick up on that. His admiration quickly turns to horror when Wei Wuxian reaches out and uses his fingers to push his brother’s lips into a facsimile of a grin. “Don’t be mad, Lan Zhan!”

Lan Xichen has to resist the urge to gape. Using his brother’s given name like that, when they’ve just met! What’s worse is Uncle doesn’t even look surprised, just resigned.

Wangji scowls and he reaches for Wei Wuxian’s wrists, but Wei Wuxian slips away, just out of his reach, still laughing. “You’re going to have to be faster than that to catch me, Lan Zhan!”

He’s then darting out the door, which he hadn’t even closed in the first place, like he actually expects the Second Jade of Lan to go chasing after him.

Wangji takes a stop forward before remembering himself and freezing.

“Wei Wuxian!” Unfamiliar voices are calling the boy’s name. They all step outside to see a crowd of guest disciples grinning and waving.

“A-Cheng!” Wei Wuxian waves back. “A-Sang!”

He runs down the steps toward them, still grinning. “No running!” Uncle barks.

“Okay, Uncle Qiren!” Without skipping a beat, Wei Wuxian tucks his sword into his best and launches himself forward, doing continuous cartwheels down the steps even quicker than he’d been running. The guest disciples are cheering, and even Lan Xichen has to admit that it’s an impressive display of strength and balance.

Technically, there is no rule against cartwheeling in Cloud Recesses.

Uncle sighs. “The problem,” he says mournfully, “is that if I make a rule just for him, he and his mother will be far too pleased with themselves, and then he’ll just put even more effort into not breaking the rules in ways that make me add more rules.”

Lan Xichen notices how Wangji hasn’t taken his eyes off Wei Wuxian and thinks that perhaps they have bigger problems, actually.

#untamed #fandom ficcery #lxc does actually stumble on lqr and wwx drinking and arguing in a bar in caiyi #he nearly qi deviates on the spot

[shanastoryteller]

Wen Qing says yes because all she can think of is the consequences if she doesn’t.

She probably should have spent some time considering what, exactly, the consequences of saying yes would be.

~

Wei Wuxian wants to go back to the banquet and shake Jin Zixun until the information they need falls out, but Wen Qing knows that’s a terrible idea, knows that he shouldn’t be helping her at all but he definitely shouldn’t stand in front of the whole cultivation world and threaten the Jin family for her. He asks one of the servants instead, something she wouldn’t have thought to do, but he insists that servants know everything and after a hefty bribe he’s telling them what they need to know and even turns a blind eye when they take a horse that’s been left unattended.

She’s skinny on a good day and she hasn’t seen a good day in a long time. Wei Wuxian didn’t used to be this thin, this breakable, but he is now, and she tells herself it’s a good thing because the one horse is easily able to carry both of them. He sits behind her even though he takes the reigns and she leans back into him because she’s been holding herself up for so long and she’s tired and he’s helping her, something no one has been willing to in – ever, really. She thinks she could almost count his ribs against her back and thinks if she’s alive tomorrow she’ll give him a lecture about eating properly without a golden core to nourish him.

They arrive just as a guard is raising a broken flag pole above his head to skewer A-Ning.

Wei Wuxian stops him, using a talisman to bind the man’s wrist to his own and jerking him away from her brother. Who is alive, and whole, and does not have a pole through his stomach. She’s crying when she holds him and Wei Wuxian stands between them and everyone else and looks at the guards and her people and says, “I have an idea. It’s a bad idea.”

“Your ideas usually are,” she says, but she’s still shaking at having her little brother back in her arms so it doesn’t come out as acerbic as she intended.

~

It is a terrible idea. She doesn’t have to agree to it.

She does.

They go to the nearest temple in Lanling because they need witnesses for this. The monks are confused and frightened but bear witness as she bows three times to Wei Wuxian and is bowed to three times in return.

She is exhausted and scared and is still unconvinced that she’ll live to see the sunrise, but Wei Wuxian had helped her when she hadn’t asked and saved her brother and wouldn’t let the guards stop them from leading her family from the work camp, so she marries him.

~

They go back to Koi Tower. It’s terrifying but Jiang disciples meet them and look askance at all the rest of them but don’t hesitate to obey Wei Wuxian. They surround them as they walk and if they have opinions about being told to guard traitorous Wen, they don’t voice them. Maybe the fact that they’re guarding Wei Wuxian too is enough.

They enter the banquet hall and everything is silent. She doesn’t know how to read the look on everyone’s faces and she doesn’t try. Instead she stands by Wei Wuxian’s side and does what she does best – she doesn’t flinch.

“Wei Wuxian!” Jin Guangshan shouts, appalled. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Sect Leader Jin,” he says, offhand, casual, as if having his hall filled with Wen is a perfectly ordinary occurrence. “You’re so good at throwing parties. I was hoping you would throw one for me.”

Jin Guangshan’s eyes narrow. “Why would we throw a party?”

“Well, it is my wedding day,” he says, and holds out his hand. Wen Qing places her hand in his, lets his other hand settle warm and proprietary at the small of her back. “My wife, Wen Qing. We were just married at the temple in Lanling. Feel free to question the monks if you don’t believe me.”

The silence breaks, everyone shouting now, and A-Yuan’s cry cuts through all of them.

She hadn’t known that Wei Wuxian had any experience with children, but he turns automatically, opening his arms, and Granny barely hesitates before placing A-Yuan into them. After all, if they can’t trust Wei Wuxian, they’re all dead anyway.

A-Yuan, astonishingly, quiets instantly as Wei Wuxian bounces him in his arms, settling his head on his shoulder and sticking his thumb in his mouth.

“You,” Wen Qing turns, sees Jiang Cheng looking between them, and she could probably read the look on his face but she doesn’t want to. “He’s your – you have a – was it when we, after Lotus Pier?”

She and Wei Wuxian glance at each other, and maybe this marriage will work out, because that one glance contains a whole conversation of things they can’t say. The timeline almost works. A-Yuan likely was conceived sometime around the fall of Lotus Pier. If there is a child, Wei Wuxian’s actions become more understandable, seem less like an act of war and something closer to what they really are, an act of love.

She could have, she supposes, laid with Wei Wuxian and gotten pregnant and bore a child in the years since they’ve seen each other. She didn’t, but the only ones who know that are either dead or just as desperate as she is for this to work.

Or. Well.

Jiang Yanli’s face is easier to look at, even as it does something complicated then smooths. She was there and awake while they all recovered with her and Wen Ning. She knows that she and Wei Wuxian didn’t have any sort of epic romance, or even a quick tryst, during that time. Wei Wuxian was so obsessively focused on helping his brother that the idea he’d have paused long enough for sex when he hadn’t for sleep or food is ridiculous. But Jiang Yanli meets her gaze then pointedly lowers her eyes and something like relief trickles down Wen Qing’s spine.

Wei Wuxian looks around the hall and if he hesitates over Lan Wangji, that’s a conversation for them to have later, if there is a later.

“Sect Leader Jiang,” Wei Wuxian says quietly, formally, and Jiang Cheng nearly flinches before catching himself. “Meet my son. Wei Yuan.” He lets that echo through the hall and then says, “I could not leave him, nor the woman who bore him, nor the family that raised him when I remained in ignorance.”

She lowers his gaze as if in shame, for having a child out of marriage, for keeping that child from his father, but mostly she can’t stand to see the look at Jiang Cheng’s face any longer.

~

There is intense debate among the clans. The Lan and surprisingly even the Nie vote against the Jin and agree for the Wen to be released to the custody of the Jiang rather than the Jin. What’s the difference between one great clan and the other, after all, and Jiang Cheng fights for this, fights for them, and Wen Qing knows he’s really fighting for Wei Wuxian. Their marriage makes things too complicated, like they’d hoped. A-Yuan makes things too complicated, and everyone in the hall mostly seems to want to go back to drinking. There is some poorly hidden sentiment that if Wei Wuxian wants a war bride he should be entitled to her, for his contribution to the war, perhaps, and Wen Qing hates these people. They do not call her and her family tribute but they imply it easily enough.

If the price of the lives of her family is her pride, that’s fine. She abandoned that a long time ago.

~

“You have been good for him,” Jiang Yanli tells her a month after they’ve moved into Lotus Pier, a month of being the wife to Wei Wuxian and the mother to the now Wei Yuan. She doesn’t do a particularly good job at either of these roles, she thinks, but Wei Wuxian makes a good husband and a good father and it was his idea but she can’t help but feel guilty, can’t help but think she stole for herself and her family what was meant for someone else.

Her sister in law’s words aren’t wrong, however. She doesn’t let Wei Wuxian drink so much anymore and forces him to eat. She’s there in his bed when he gasps awke from nightmares and when he can do nothing more but clutch his chest and weep. She gets the story of the Burial Mounds from him, eventually, and she doesn’t know how to heal that kind of trauma, but she holds him when he cries and thinks even if she can’t be a proper wife, she can do this, and she heals the damage demonic cultivation does to his meridians, and it seems like such little things, comparatively, but it helps.

She’s offers up the excuse that demonic cultivation makes using his sword difficult and people stop asking him to carry it. A-Ning sticks to Wei Wuxian’s side when she can’t, looking faintly sad whenever Wei Wuxian makes an unhealthy choice, which is even more effective than her scolding, although not as effective as getting A-Yuan to place his chubby hand on Wei Wuxian’s cheek and go, “Baba no.”

Without so many nightmares, with having people around he can talk to freely, with no one pestering him about his sword, Wei Wuxian shoulders all the responsibilities of first disciple and brother of the clan leader, something he apparently hadn’t been able to do before.

She knows what the rumors say. Those that had been against her and her family being set free, relatively speaking, are now patting themselves on the back. Clearly the fearsome Yiling Patriarch has been cowed by marriage. His bastard son, who he loved enough at first sight to legitimize, has softened his sharp edges.

Wen Qing knows that’s all bullshit and Jiang Yanli does too, but.

He is better.

Jiang Cheng can’t seem to decide between being relieved and grateful at having his brother back and resentful that it took Wen Qing to bring it about and – whatever his feelings about her are, and her marriage to his brother are, which she doesn’t know because she refuses to acknowledge them.  

“I’m glad,” she says quietly.

Her sister in law squeezes her hand, and Wen Qing squeezes back, and if this isn’t exactly the life she wanted, well. It’s a life. That’s more than she thought she’d have.

She has a loving husband and an adorable son and living, healthy family. There is nothing for her to complain about.

Just because it all feels stolen, just because it all feels like something she never should have been given, doesn’t make it less good, doesn’t make it less hers.

~

Wen Qing knows that Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji are in love with each other because she has two functioning eyes. She’s known that since she was a teenager in Cloud Recesses.

She had not wanted to come between them. She hadn’t planned on it. This all hadn’t even been her idea.

She’s guilty enough about it that she ignores her own feelings.

At first, she doesn’t have any, not really. Then it hadn’t been right.

She’s never felt greedy before. She doesn’t like it but she doesn’t know how to stop it.

~

They’ve been married for over a year the first time Wei Wuxian kisses her.

They’ve been married nearly two years the first time Wei Wuxian kisses Lan Wangji.

Something settles in her then, relief burrowing into her bones. Lan Wangji comes to her after, a combination of desirously happy and mortified, and bows to her and looks her in the eye when he tells her that he’s in love with her husband.

“I know,” she says kindly, “he’s easy to love.” She pauses, then says, “I do not mind. If it’s you.”

His lips part, and she holds the place that should be his, married to Wei Wuxian, but.

She can share, if he can. Even if it can’t be official, on paper, she and Wen Ning can bear witness to him and Wei Wuxian bowing to each other and maybe she’ll finally be able to breath when she can give back some of what she stole.

~

There are rumors about the three of them.

They don’t listen to them.

A-Yuan calls Lan Wangji his father and no one corrects him and that’s good enough for her, really.

It’s a good life, and it’s hers, and she’s glad of it.  

#fandom ficcery #untamed #what the fuck is this #i cannot emphasize enough #how much i didn't intend to write this #meant to write like four sentences just to get the idea out #and instead there's this #i just think wwx an wq would be a good married couple #i guess #i comprise the entirety of the wwx/wq community #i just think they're neat