wild child, wild mind

[pennyofthewild]

so i finished it OTL

i wanted to post this in time for kageyama's birthday, so we'll just pretend it's the 22nd somewhere

inspired by @sturlsons persephone, which i have badly illustrated before (this exact thing, in fact, so maybe this actually counts as a redraw...)

[beautifulstorms]

Nathan Chen, 4F || World Team Trophy 2021

[mono-caps]

[musettas]

Nathan Chen and Yuzuru Hanyu at 2017 4CC

[shoma-uno]

2017 WTT banquet (Boyang’s instagram)

[magicaleggplant]

davidbaden: This is how a couple of US Champs get back to the hotel from the rink! @adaripp @nathanwchen @usfigureskating @teamusa @nbcolympics

[pennyofthewild]

[image is a drawing of wen qing tilting her head to kiss wei wuxian; he has his eyes closed, resigned, and is holding his golden core in her direction. on wei wuxian's other side is jiang cheng, asleep with his head on wei wuxian's shoulder and a pained expression on his face. his chest is being pierced by suibian, held in wen qing's hand.]

inspired by brigitte lacombe's twelfth night photograph; posting in time for @mdzsnet 's Wen Qing birthday event.

tw: injury, blood

[pennyofthewild]

(1) moment of silence for the jianghu's foremost should-have/would-have/could-have power couple

possibly set in a fantasy alternate 1960s-ish Hong Kong? idek here is a super cool article series on the history of qipao/cheongsam in case anyone is interested in the reading i do while drawing!

[pennyofthewild]

somebody on twitter said if your mlw ship isn't girlboss x malewife then what's the point ?

and i thought chengqing because i am chengqing trash :)

[pennyofthewild]

jiujiu and jiujiu's boy :)

jiang cheng's sleeve tattoo is inspired by this post by @hawberries!

[pennyofthewild]

a thing for @mdzsnet 's huaisang birthday event!!

[pennysdrabbledump]

baby, you hit me like a tidal wave

negotiations.

*** baby, you hit me like a tidal wave Characters: Nie Huaisang, Jiang Cheng I Jiang Wanyin Word Count: 1,066 Ratings/Warnings: General Audiences, please don't look too hard for mistakes because you will find them Notes: written for sangcheng week 2021 day 2: arranged marriage, still modern AU because apparently that's how we roll Alternative Reading Link: [Click here to read on AO3]

***

“Most of the details are negotiable,” Jiang Cheng says, sliding a file across the restaurant table, “but basically it’s a two year contract – ”

Huaisang pulls the file closer, idly flips through the contents. He lets Jiang Cheng’s voice (it’s a beautiful voice, don’t misunderstand, but whatever he is saying sounds so pedantic) wash over him.

“We’ll keep assets separate,” Jiang Cheng is saying, “and anything else that you want – ”

No exclusivity requirements, the contract stipulates in clear, bold font, but keep all side relationships quiet. Huaisang feels slightly sick.

Why didn’t you just ask Da-ge, he wants to say, if you were going to be this impersonal, if this was really going to be just a paper marriage. Why do you think I volunteered?

How foolish of him, Huaisang thinks, to have believed – however briefly – that he’d been chosen.

“A-sang?” Jiang Cheng says, rousing Huaisang from his reverie. “What’s the matter? Aren’t you listening?”

He looks genuinely concerned, almost like he cares about Huaisang as a person, instead of just a front to help prop up the failing family business he’s been forced to inherit too young.

Huaisang fiddles with the napkin in his lap, takes a sip from his too-cold drink, takes a deep breath. They were friends once, he reminds himself. Aren’t marriages – even those of convenience – built off of communication? He owes it to himself to speak now instead of waiting to be hurt, inevitably, later.

“Cheng-er,” he says, “do you like me?”

Confused is a beautiful expression on Jiang Cheng. If Huaisang is honest, most expressions are beautiful on Jiang Cheng, although that might be because he is absolutely whipped for Jiang Cheng, and has been since they were fifteen and meeting for the first time at boarding school (okay, Huaisang has a thing for grumpy pretty boys. Sue him). They’d been inseparable, then, the four of them: Huaisang and Jiang Cheng and Wei Ying and Lan Zhan. Their friends have been happily settled for years – it was probably just Huaisang’s imagination but he’d always felt Jiang Cheng had the slightest soft spot for him, which is why he had been hoping –

“Like you,” Jiang Cheng repeats, “of course I like you. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“For someone as smart as you are you can be really stupid sometimes, Jiang Cheng,” Huaisang says, and steels himself for the inevitable pain at the end of this plunge. Let Da-ge call him a coward now, “because I like you. I like you a lot, and I don’t mean in a let’s get married for the sake of our respective family images and then part ways like it never happened because we’re friends way. So if this is just business to you let me know now so I can have the remittance for breaking my heart added to the terms and conditions.”

“Oh,” Jiang Cheng says, faintly. He looks like he’s going to add something else, probably something like I wasn’t expecting that, but then he keeps silent, still looking adorably bewildered. Huaisang wants to kiss him.

Instead, he stands up, tosses his napkin to the table. “Yeah,” he says, “if that’s all I’m going to be going now. You can reach me through my agent for any further communication about the contract.” He gives himself a mental pat on the head for keeping his voice steady.

Huaisang takes his coat from the maître d'on the way out of the restaurant, retrieves his keys from the valet with a I’ll get my car myself, thank you and is striding into the basement-level parking lot when a hand closes over his wrist.

Ah, cliches, how wonderful, the voice in his mind that sounds a lot like Jin Guangyao supplies. Shut up, he tells it.

“Wait,” Jiang Cheng sounds a little breathless – as if he’d run after Huaisang, as if he’d actually been afraid of missing him, “wait a minute, A-sang.”

Huaisang turns, schooling his face into a neutral expression. Jiang Cheng looks – nervous, Huaisang thinks. He isn’t sure, because he doesn’t think he’s ever seen Jiang Cheng nervous – he usually takes everything in stride – but this – his throat bobs, perceptibly, as he swallows, and is he biting his lip? He still hasn’t let go of Huaisang’s wrist.

“What?” Huaisang raises a pointed eyebrow at him.

“You didn’t let me speak,” Jiang Cheng says. His hand is burning a warm brand into Huaisang’s skin.

Huaisang tilts his chin. “So speak.”

There is a muscle twitching in Jiang Cheng’s flawless jaw. “You’ll tell me if I say something stupid,” he says, equal parts belligerent and anxious, so Huaisang nods, heart in his throat.

“Okay,” Jiang Cheng says, and then, “it was never just business for me. I care about you, A-sang, it’s just that I didn’t dare hope – ”

“You’re saying something stupid,” Huaisang tells him. “I’m not signing up to deal with your inferiority complex, A-cheng, you’ll have to do something about it if you really want to marry me.”

A beat, then –

“I’ll add it to the terms and conditions,” Jiang Cheng says, mock-serious.

Huaisang narrows his eyes. “Also – if I’m not misunderstanding – how truly ungentlemanly of you, Jiang Cheng,” with a playful whine, “to try to trap me in a contract marriage like this – were you just going to stay silent about your feelings – ”

He stops – Jiang Cheng has turned the wrist he is still holding and pressed a brief, open-mouthed kiss to Huaisang’s pulse point – gaze fixed steadily on Huaisang’s face.

“I promise to court you properly from now on, Nie-xiansheng,” he says, and there is a note in his voice that makes Huaisang’s toes curl in his shoes.

Huaisang has to remind himself it would not be the best idea to push Jiang Cheng against the wall and show him how he likes to be kissed – they are still in a public space, after all. If someone were to pass by – well, the internet rumor mill would have a field day with the headlines: idol-actor Nie Huaisang caught kissing Jiang Corp heir in underground parking lot, click for pictures! It would definitely throw a wrench into the whole image-rehabilitation aspect of this arrangement.

Instead, he reminds himself that some things are better taken slow – so in the meantime,

“Great,” Huaisang says, smiling widely, “you can start by taking me somewhere better than this place for dinner – the food here was awful.”

[valdrift]

2e Jiang Cheng 🧃

[pennyofthewild]

when all is done and settled

could there be something left for us after all?

***

when all is done and settled //could there be something left for us after all? Characters: Nie Huaisang, Jin Ling I Jin Rulan, Jiang Cheng I Jiang Wanyin Word Count: 1,170 Ratings/Warnings: General Audiences, this is really self-indulgent, please don't judge me? (plot, what plot! can't a fic just be a long conversation?) Notes: written for sangcheng week 2021 day 3: grief//revenge but i am horrible at angst so have this mildly hopeful post-canon thing instead? Alternative Reading Link: [AO3]

***

Cultivation conferences have been particularly tedious lately. Truthfully, Huaisang never really enjoyed cultivation conferences – his idea of enjoyable social events does not encompass sitting in on a bunch of stuffy old men arguing pointlessly for hours on end – but lately –

Lately the meetings have been more grating than ever. It is probably because – well. Huaisang used to be able to catch his eye over his fan when Sect Leader Yao was being particularly odious – exchange half-hearted shrugs with a dimpled smile –

He’d won, Huaisang reminds himself. He’d come out the victor. He’d outwitted the cleverest person he’s ever known, so why –

It must be that cultivation conferences were never Huaisang’s favorite places to be, and now he has to endure being lonely on top of everything else.

Why didn’t anyone tell him victory would feel so hollow? How long will it be before he stops waking in cold sweat, the crack san-ge’s neck had made when he’d been dragged into the coffin resonating in his ears?

I never thought you would be the death of me, Nie Huaisang.

Across the room, Lan Wangji is rising stiffly from the chief cultivator’s position, announcing we will now adjourn for the noon meal sounding practically relieved, for Lan Wangji.

Ironic, Huaisang thinks, how he’d brought about Lan Wangji’s eternal earthly happiness and his elevation in the eyes of the cultivation world through his machinations (though he’d also driven his brother into seclusion, to be fair), and had been unable to secure any such joys for himself.

Perhaps if Wei Wuxian were the sort of person to attend cultivation conferences Huaisang might have at least a conversation partner, but Wei Wuxian, like Huaisang, has a particular distaste for this sort of gathering, and unlike Huaisang, is not at all obligated to actually be present.

And then, Huaisang thinks with a slight pang, trailing in the wake of his fellow sect leaders, there is the matter of another erstwhile old friend. The one who is currently several paces ahead of Huaisang, (tall and unattainable), walking with his hands behind his back, head tipped to the side to listen intently to whatever his nephew is whispering into his ear.

See – Huaisang used to have a long-standing agreement with Jiang Wanyin, at cultivation conferences – to meet up after the day’s agenda had been wrung dry – and poke fun at the general state of the cultivation world’s leadership over greasy street-stall food and a several drinks. Late at night and slightly inebriated is when Jiang Wanyin’s dry, sarcastic wit is at its most razor-sharp; their conversations have always been Huaisang’s favorite part of being at a cultivation conference.

Unfortunately, in the months since Huaisang’s decade-long plot had finally run its course, this agreement has quietly fallen through. The worst of it is, Huaisang cannot be sure why.

As far as he is aware, he hasn’t quarrelled with Jiang Wanyin – unless he is mistaken, the Jiang sect leader had been pretty pre-occupied, that night in Guanyin Temple, and can’t possibly have realized the extent of Huaisang’s role in the night’s events. It is understandable, then, that to Huaisang, this new distance that has cropped up between them is especially frustrating. Could it be, he wonders, that Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji had revealed his plot to Sect Leader Jiang? But as far as Huaisang is aware, Jiang Wanyin is still not on speaking terms with the Chief Cultivator or his one-time martial brother.

Lost in his musings, Huaisang runs headlong into Jin Rulan, who has, in the meanwhile, unhooked himself from his uncle’s apron strings in favor of catching up with the Lan sect’s head disciple. As he stumbles backward, Huaisang finds himself on the receiving end of an appraising look from Jin Rulan (he looks down his nose just like his uncle!). He turns away from Lan Sizhui with a murmured give me a moment, A-yuan, and gives Huaisang an appropriately deferential bow, sect-leader-to-sect-leader.

“Sect Leader Nie,” he says, grave, polite (he used to call Huaisang Nie-shushu, once upon a time, Huaisang thinks with a twinge of pain).

Huaisang nods back, crinkles his eyes over his fan. “Sect Leader Jin,” he says, cheerfully. “You look well.”

Jin Rulan takes a step closer, casting a cursory glance around the room. Lan Sizhui is pointedly looking elsewhere.

“I feel I should tell you,” Jin Rulan says, expression frank, straightforward, “I am aware of an obligation I have to return a favor you have done my late uncle.”

Huaisang’s breath catches in his throat. To think he would actually come out and say it, and in such a place! Or perhaps it is because of the place – but if this is a warning, he is doing a horrible job – . The part of Huaisang’s mind that is not absorbed in self-preservation thinks, dimly, that perhaps certain things are in fact passed down, from father to son, like naivety, and a sense of justice.

“I am afraid I must be misunderstanding you, Sect Leader Jin,” Huaisang says, easily, giving Jin Rulan his most innocuous expression, from above his fan.

Jin Rulan smiles. “Rest assured,” he says, a sardonic tone in his voice that, once again, is all Jiang Wanyin, “you are not. But –,” here, he pauses, takes a breath, “ my objective in telling you is to let you know I have in fact decided to let the matter rest.”

Now Huaisang is sure he must be misunderstanding, because none of this conversation is making any sense. “You have,” he says, faintly.

Jin Rulan nods, decisive. “Yes,” he says, “I am not quite sure I will be able to properly forgive you, Sect Leader Nie, but the truth is I have precious few family members left to me. Besides, my jiujiu has assured me that revenge is not a road lightly taken, and that I probably do not have the temperament for it.”

A laugh – rather like a sob – climbs its way out of Huaisang’s throat. “Your jiujiu doesn’t mince words,” he finds himself saying.

Jin Rulan gives him a considering look. “My jiujiu is lonely, too,” he declares, a non-sequitur if there ever was one, “I’d rather he not lose anyone else precious to him, if it is all the same to you, Sect Leader Nie.”

From across the pavilion, Jiang Wanyin – who is caught in what looks like an excruciating three-way conversation with Sect Leaders Yao and Ouyang – turns, as if by some protective maternal paternal instinct. He looks from Huaisang to Jin Rulan, and back. Catches Huaisang’s eye, holds. Gives Huaisang a brief nod. Something bright and painful flares in Huaisang’s chest.

“Thank you, for your magnanimity,” Huaisang tells Jin Rulan – to himself, silently, he adds: perhaps, one day, I will be worthy of it, and then, “and to your point; I think I will go rescue your jiujiu before he embroils us in another diplomatic situation.”

Jin Rulan’s answering smile is blinding.

The feeling in Huaisang’s chest grows brighter.

Ah, Huaisang thinks, this is what it feels like to hope.

[andythelemon]

Natsu didn’t know what to buy for her brother’s engagement gift so she decided to win gold for him! ☀️🥇

Today’s Haikyuu!! news got me so emotional ahhh thank you Furudate I couldn’t be happier Natsu ended up being a player herself! #10! *cries*

[ivoreene]

day off lol

[pennysdrabbledump]

the rivers in your mouth come pouring out

huaisang, pining.

*** the rivers in your mouth come pouring out Characters: Nie Huaisang, Jiang Cheng I Jiang Wanyin Word Count: 953 Ratings/Warnings: General Audiences, mild angst? Notes: written for sangcheng week 2021 day 1: heartbreak, modern AU, background wangxian Alternative Reading Link: [click here to read on AO3]

***

Huaisang finds Jiang Cheng in the apartment’s cramped kitchen, resolutely washing dishes. The whole place is quiet, in the aftermath of the party, but there is an especially oppressive sort of silence here in this room. The only sounds are the running water and the sing-song clink of china, punctuated with heavier clanging noises when Jiang Cheng unceremoniously jams clean dishware into the drying rack. Huaisang almost hates to disturb him, but there is a familiar tense line in his shoulders that is screaming for company – any sort of company – so maybe he’ll do with Huaisang’s, for once.

“Hey,” Huaisang says.

Jiang Cheng starts.

“Hey yourself,” he says, craning to look at Huaisang over his shoulder, “you’re still here? You didn’t go to get ice cream or coffee or whatever? You should’ve; my new brother-in-law,” – he grimaces – “is treating, and God knows he’s got bottomless pockets.”

“Neither did you,” Huaisang says, hefting himself onto the counter and crossing his legs at the ankles, “couldn’t this have waited till morning? Why does it have to be you, anyway?”

Jiang Cheng shrugs. He’s got his dress-shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows. His collar is damp, and there are stray soap suds smeared on his cheek.

“Cleanliness is next to godliness,” he says, matter-of-factly, and then, “Who else would do it?”, quieter, and mainly to himself.

There’s a beat of silence – then he gives Huaisang a wry half smile and says, “actually, you know what? The truth is – well, it’s just that I’m kind of sick of it all.”

It’s not really surprising. Huaisang has always been of the opinion that a day – a ceremony followed by a reception – is more than enough for a wedding. This last week has been a blur, and there’s still the religious ceremony tomorrow evening. He can’t imagine how it must feel to be part of the wedding party, and unlike Jiang Cheng, he actually likes social events. Usually. He hopes that when – if – the time comes, Da-ge won’t be as anal about all of these traditions as old man Lan is. Even Lan Zhan, ever-composed, has started looking frazzled, for all that he’s over the moon to finally be marrying his beloved Wei Ying.

“Sucks to be the odd one out, doesn’t it?” Huaisang says. “Especially at times like this.”

Jiang Cheng snorts. “Not if you’re used to it,” he says, casual, nonchalant. He puts the last of the china in the drying rack, then washes his hands, as if they aren’t clean enough already. Huaisang’s heart squeezes, in his chest.

Before he can overthink, Huaisang reaches out, crosses the couple of inches of space between them, closes his fingers on Jiang Cheng’s shirtsleeve. Tugs.

“Hey,” he says, “Jiang Cheng.”

Jiang Cheng looks from Huaisang’s hand to Huaisang’s face, quirks an eyebrow. “What?”

Huaisang tilts his chin. “Come here.” He pulls Jiang Cheng into the bracket of his knees – the advantage of sitting on the counter is he’s no longer subject to the whim of their height difference – cups his face with his hands. Wipes the soapsuds away with his thumb.

“You want to tell me what the hell you’re doing?” Jiang Cheng says, but there is no bite to it.

“You’re not stupid,” Huaisang says, against his mouth, “you know what I’m doing.”

Jiang Cheng’s lips are dry and slightly chapped, but warm all the same, and the fingers he slides into Huaisang’s hair scrape pleasantly against Huaisang’s scalp. He smells like lotus flowers and the lemon from the dish soap, tastes like sesame sweets and celebration champagne.

“Ever heard of lipbalm, Jiang-xiansheng?” Huaisang asks in the space between their mouths.

“Shut up, Huaisang,” Jiang Cheng murmurs, nose knocking into Huaisang’s. He kisses with his eyes scrunched shut, an endearing furrow between his eyebrows. Huaisang loops his arms around his neck, presses his thumbs into his nape, locks his knees around his waist.

“Ya, Jiang Cheng,” Huaisang says.

“Hey, do you always talk this much when you’re kissing people?”

“This is important,” Huaisang says, “I want – you know I’ve thought about this – ”

Jiang Cheng’s eyes widen, minutely. “Oh,” he says, sucks in a breath.

“Yeah,” Huaisang bites his lip. “You know I’ve had this – ”

Jiang Cheng breathes out, shoulders slumping. “A-sang, I’m sorry,” he says, extricating himself from Huaisang’s grip, “I – I can’t.”

He’s got a half-dazed look in his eyes – pupils blown out – and his mouth is kiss-swollen, wet with saliva. Huaisang wants – needs – to pull him back in, kiss him till he’s breathless and out of protests.

Instead –

“Why?” Huaisang says, proud he is able to keep the bitterness to a minimum, “because you’re still in love with your adopted brother? You’ll kiss me but you won’t even consider being with me? Why can’t you ever let yourself be happy, Cheng-er?”

Jiang Cheng looks stricken. Eyes wide, mouth pained.

Almost immediately, Huaisang wishes he could take the words back. Regret coils in his throat, like nausea.

“Leave,” Jiang Cheng says, and there’s a quiet fury in his voice that makes Huaisang wish he’d just hit him and be over with it.

“Jiang Cheng, I’m – ”

“Please,” Jiang Cheng says, hands curled into fists, “I’ll forget you said it. Just – please just go.”

Huaisang slides off the counter, legs like jelly. Presses past Jiang Cheng, turned away from him, unwavering. Leans against the hallway outside the apartment, unlocking his phone with shaking fingers.

It rings, tinny in his ear, till it is picked up. “A-sang?” his Da-ge says, voice hoarse with sleep, “the party over already? Weren’t you going to stay the night at the Jiangs’?”

“Da-ge,” Huaisang says, forcing the words past the lump in his throat, “please come get me. I want to go home.”