highly new, slightly improved open post

[appliances]

assorted morons

☆ @ the muselist

optional prompts/ideas

☆ caught in the rain meme ☆ little steps meme ☆ affectionate physical contact meme ☆ picture prompt also acceptable but link them so it's tidy ☆ AU ideas: soulmates AU, reincarnation AU, Bad End AU, canon divergent/roleswap AU, dorky college AU, crossover AU, super indulgent high fantasy AU ☆ melodrama is ultimate tier ★ SHIPPING AND FUCC: ☆ non-fluffy relationship types I'm down for: codependent, master/servant power imbalance type ships, "we're bad for each other but worse for anyone else," other things I am failing to think of tbh ☆ things I am not into: noncon (includes "dubcon"), incest, tsundere shit if your tsundere is just verbally abusive, gratuitous torture porn, you'll probably have to ask me about harder kinks and they will vary by character ☆ I don't have a kink list so pitch me an idea if u thirsty ☆ if you would prefer a locked post I can also make that happen

Comments

[pierless]

[It's a beautiful scene, and he's glad for it. It captures his attention and focuses him away from . . . whatever the hell that was. Mm. He rubs his mouth, and does indeed join Huaisang on the bridge, glancing first at the water before stealing one over at the man next to him.]

They gave me a list of things to talk to you about, you know.

[He glances up, staring at the stars.]

To try and impress you.

[So at least Huaisang knows he isn't faking anything, even if he does keep sticking his foot in his mouth.]

And all siblings are protective of their own.

[fanfavors]

[Huaisang hums down at the water, not quite unimpressed but getting there. Protective siblings, uh huh, surely that's the extent of other families' gossip...

It takes, then, a second for the first part of Jiang Cheng's words to sink in. But then he looks up and over at him, eyebrows raised.]

They gave you a what? What did it say?

[Please... he has to know this crucial information. The Huaisang Cheat Sheet??]

[pierless]

Artistry, of any kind, but especially painting. Birds. Gardens. And if I could memorize any poems, all the better.

Is it accurate?

[fanfavors]

[Oh, it's not funny at all. Well, that's not anything special then— but Huaisang straightens up from leaning over the water, closes his eyes and quite simply recites, because of course he does:]

My idle dreams roam far,
To the southern land where spring is fragrant.
Wind and strings play on a boat on the river's clear surface,
The city is full of catkins flying like light dust.
People are occupied admiring the flowers.
My idle dreams roam far,
To the southern land where autumn is clear.
For a thousand li over rivers and hills cold colors stretch far,
Deep in flowering reeds, a solitary boat is moored.
Beneath the bright moon, a flute plays in the tower.

[And rest assured that he is good at it, being as he is a second son with no duties except to idle around and not embarrass the family too much. His voice is even and clear, evidently practiced for someone who mostly just reads poetry to himself and maybe the occasional curious disciple.

There's something to be said for Jiang Cheng coming prepared, he thinks, but for a good long moment after he's recited the last line he doesn't say anything or even open his eyes. Let a guy get lost in his poetry recitation for a second, hmm...

Okay. He opens just one eye, to look at Jiang Cheng.]

Do you even know anything about all of that? Just saying it to me doesn't count.

[pierless]

You're the one who picked it out, not me. That's an even harder test than just reciting it.

[But hang on, he knows this, vaguely. He's far, far from the sort of person who reads these kinds of things, but he'd had a formal education. He rubs his mouth just once, an idle gesture.]

It's about missing your home. Being so sick with longing for it that you constantly think about it. Not just the broad strokes, but the details.

[Like the thrill of standing on a pier's edge, watching stormclouds gather miles away, smelling the electricity in the air, knowing a storm is coming. Like how the lakes of Lotus Pier look at sunset, when the heat of the day has faded and the fireflies have already come out. Like leaning on a bridge just like this, fingers digging lightly into the grain of the wood, inhaling the sweet summer air, and then feeling a hand covering his own so gently--

It's not conscious thought that makes him guide his head up. Instead: it's as if it's been scripted and he's simply playing his part. His eyes slide slowly over the curve of Huaisang's cheek, meeting his gaze, and half-expects to see a soft smile returned. He feels outside of himself, watching himself, caught up in the duality of the moments.

He should be nervous. He was nervous a few moments ago, ping-ponging between that and a sort of resigned sullenness. And now he feels eerily at ease, because he knows this man, he knows this scene, except last time it wasn't here, it was . . . they were on a lake . . .]

All the little things that make it yours.

[He teeters at the cusp, feeling desperately as though he's on the verge of recalling something and not knowing what.

Right? Of course right, because Huaisang had taught him that poem years ago. Because he loved Lotus Pier, but Qinghe was where he'd been born, and he missed it dearly sometimes, missed his brother, missed his people, the rocks and mountains and chill, but I'd miss you more, he'd whispered, and Jiang Cheng had held him all the tighter.]