#ba ye

[psychic-waffles]

YING HAOMING BACK AS BA YE IN SOUTHERN ARCHIVES THIS IS NOT A DRILL

[lasenbyphoenix]

Fo Ye & Ba Ye & Zhang Rishan - The Mystic Nine - as requested by @gaiahenshin

Reference pic here - requests still open!

[fuguan-and-the-fortuneteller]

☆ Ba Ye in Beiping ☆

[sunriseverse]

little fluffy gentleness verse fuba ficlet for @lucientelrunya

The winter snows pile up outside the walls of their home, growing taller with each night that passes. They haven't been going out; the severe weather means that most of the people who Zhang Rishan would be taking a job from are less concerned with trying to capture yaoren, and more concerned with making sure their business ventures aren't being brought to a standstill by the blizzards.

It's also why it doesn't take Zhang Rishan as long to notice Ba Ye's altered patterns of behaviour as it normally would. Usually, they're on the road, and Zhang Rishan is busy with planning and logistics, so when Ba Ye isn't right by his side, he isn't much aware of what the other is doing. Now, though, when they have nothing to do but laze about the house, it becomes abundantly clear when Ba Ye is away—or, rather, when he's hiding something. Zhang Rishan has been watching him—not out of suspicion, but out of affection; it's hard to keep his eyes off his lover, so often lounging in his pool to read or tinker with whatever contraption he's gotten his hands on most recently, and Zhang Rishan will admit only to himself that he doesn't much try, anyway.

Today, though, when he wakes up, Ba Ye's not in his pool, the saltwater still and the bed lacking the weight of Ba Ye's upper half on it, swaying slightly, doubtless from Zhang Rishan's shifting in the night. It's not the first day that he's woken like this—it's been almost a solid week, ever since the blizzard started to go from heavy to howling. With a practised motion, he swings his legs over the side of the bed and rises, heads into the kitchen to see if Ba Ye's gone to make breakfast, though he knows full well that he probably hasn't, because he hasn't any of the other times either.

As he'd suspected, the kitchen is empty, though there are signs of their lives—dishes drying on the rack, cups left out on the counter, a box of half-opened tea. He trusts Ba Ye to know his own limits, so he's not worried that he's come to harm, but it's still mildly unsettling to not have him within his line of sight—a familiar instinct, the desire to protect his lover even when he knows full well that there's nothing that could bring him to harm. He makes himself some toast, brews a cup of tea, and then sets out to find where his lover has gone.

The other rooms of their residence turn up empty, which, while not surprising, is a little unsettling. It means that the only option is the outdoors—and while Ba Ye isn't sensitive to the cold, the dry, howling winds run the risk of drying him out to a dangerous degree. He takes a sip of tea, and goes to the back door. It's one of the only places he hadn't looked, the past week—assuming that Ba Ye wouldn't go out in the storm, but now, there's no other option; or at least, none that he wants to entertain. He hopes that Ba Ye is there; if he isn't…

He pushes the thought away. He trusts Ba Ye; Ba Ye wouldn't get himself hurt. With sure steps, he heads for the back door—and then pauses, when he catches sight of a familiar figure, clad in one of the thick coats Zhang Rishan had bought when they'd finally decided to use the house as their residence, crouches on the ground, the shape of him slightly distorted by the ornamentally-made glass of the window. Quietly, Zhang Rishan pulls the door open.

The gale-force wind hits him across the face like a slap, and he has to squint for a moment as his eyes adjust to the brightness of the light reflecting off the white field of snow. Ba Ye is crouched at the bottom step, his mouth moving in words that Zhang Rishan can barely hear. His hand is outstretched, moving across the snow—no, across a small, snow-white body, trembling and whimpering as it eats from a small bowl almost entirely hidden in Ba Ye's shadow.

"Feeding the strays," Zhang Rishan murmurs to himself, smiling without meaning to, and then shakes his head. "Ba Ye! Come inside, you'll freeze out here."

"Rishan!" Ba Ye's head snaps about, his eyes wide, a sheepish smile spreading across his face as he takes in Zhang Rishan's form. Then, he glances at the creature, and his expression turns to one of concern.

Zhang Rishan, already guessing what he's about to say, calls out, "Bring it inside with you."

In a fluid motion, Ba Ye picks the small creature up, cradling it against his chest, half-hidden in the coat, and then picks up the dish, now empty, as well; rises to his feet, and crosses the distance between them. Once they're close enough that neither of them have to yell to be heard, Ba Ye says, "You weren't supposed to be awake yet."

"What, were you planning on hiding it from me forever?" Zhang Rishan raises a brow, and hustles Ba Ye inside. His skin is already looking dry; he'll need to get back into the water, or he'll start to get dizzy and weak from the dehydration.

"I suppose I can't hide from you," Ba Ye admits. "How long have you been noticing?"

"A week," Zhang Rishan says, and carefully doesn't smile at Ba Ye's indignant expression. "Here, let me hold it—go get into the pool, I can get it more food."

Ba Ye hesitates a moment, and then sighs; acquiesces. The small creature turns out to be a cat, its ribs prominent and its paws tiny. Zhang Rishan holds it carefully, and then takes the empty dish as well, and cocks his head. "Alright, alright," Ba Ye says. "You worry like you're guarding eggs."

"Only one," Zhang Rishan says, drily, and watches Ba Ye's retreating figure until he sees him take off the coat and slip into the pool, lower half returning to its natural form. At a distance, it just looks like a smear of orange, but Zhang Rishan relaxes nonetheless. Against his chest, the cat lets out a plaintive mew, reminding him of its presence. Well, he thinks, as he turns towards the kitchen to get the pitiful creature something to eat, perhaps two.

[therealbernicia]

[tehhappypl-ace]

[endof-vanity]

everyone else using their arms and legs to slide down the rope but ba ye using just his arms he must be so strong 😳😩

[melorambles]

a very neat summary of an older immortal and his younger self. Zhang Rishan makes me want to wrap him in a blanket and give him hot chocolate

Zhang Fu Guan in Sha Hai: jaded. old. tired.

^I am old and tiredTM

^I cooked for my subordinate and he’s praised my cooking which makes me kinda happy but it’s not enough to kill the depressed old man in meTM

^My subordinate just told me he’s mine but im still tiredTM

Zhang Fu Guan in Lao Jiu Men: 

^Cheek.

^Amused.

^Amused x2

^Even more amused

^More cheek.

^Cheek x 3

^Sass. and

A smol expressive bean.

Bonus:

one happy smile. (The Zhang Ming En is strong in that one!)

[gotham-snark]

[allgremlinart]

inspired by @/mugentakeda's Jet + Iroh hostility doodles but I made it lesko (lesbian jetko) because. I can

[lasenbyphoenix]

Zhang Rishan/Qi Tiezui as A9 and B6 requested by @gaiahenshin

Reference pics here and here, requests still open!

[melorambles]

i feel like this is an element of symbolism too. Fo Ye has big visions for the zhang and now he can't see. Very Roy Mustang from Full Metal Alchemist vibes. He'd probably be the most unsettled and alarmed by the situation, but once they're out of immediate danger he's likely to be more upset by Rishan's inability to speak. Since he can't even get a direct visual check that Rishan is actually okay and has to rely on secondhand info from Ba Ye.

Rishan, for all that he's sassy, seems like the sort who at least to some extent sees himself as a tool/weapon for Fo Ye; possibly involving a traumatic backstory/childhood raised by the main zhang family, and without his voice he's dehumanized. Not that he would ever protest Fo Ye's orders, but not even able to give his opinion. Lots of good angst potential there.

Ba Ye seems to like to complain just for the sake of it. He's very much the 'cassandra' where he's always saying something is going to go wrong or that he wants to leave but no one listens to him. And now he can't even hear himself. I feel once the initial alarm is out of his system he'd be doing it intentionally to annoy Fo Ye and maybe amuse/annoy Rishan. Probably learning in real time how good he actually is at reading Rishan's expressions and translating (exaggerated for comedic effect).

Having finished one fuba WIP my brain instantly goes "hey hey hey! Remember that Charmed episode, where the monkey steals their senses? Wouldn’t it be funny to do that with Fo Ye, Ba Ye and Rishan? Have Fo Ye blind, Rishan mute and Ba Ye deaf, trapped in a tomb?"

And I'm like "No brain, no. We have *checks folder* like ten other WIPs already. How about we work on one of those?"

Brain goes on to send me images of Fo Ye and Rishan not really exchanging a look (because Fo Ye is currently blind) about Ba Ye yelling because he can’t hear himself and that just makes him talk louder.

I hate my brain!

[fuguan-and-the-fortuneteller]

☯️ Ba Ye ☯️

[sunriseverse]

@lucientelrunya i come bearing fuba!

[greco-roman-jewess]

Was watching an episode of Say Yes to the Dress and I think at some point something went very wrong with the editing.

[leupagus]

On Voting in America

So one of the most profound comments on routine chores that I've ever encountered was, hilariously, the Pickle Rick episode of "Rick & Morty," where (after a lot of shenanigans have already ensued) this therapist absolutely lays Rick out:

"I have no doubt that you would be bored senseless by therapy, the same way I'm bored when I brush my teeth and wipe my ass. Because the thing about repairing, maintaining, and cleaning is: it's not an adventure. There's no way to do it so wrong you might die. It's just work. And the bottom line is some people are okay going to work and some people, well, some people would rather die. Each of us gets to choose."

I think about this at least once a week — usually while I'm doing my laundry or sweeping or some other task that needs doing and won't get me anything more than clean clothing or a dog-hair-free floor. There's no Pulitzer for wiping down your microwave or scrubbing your toilet; no one's awarding you for getting all the dishes out of the sink. At best you have the satisfaction of crossing it off your list.

Voting is very much the same (and I'm talking about the US here, as an American). Sure, you sometimes get a sticker; but nobody's going to cheer for you. There's no adventure here, no potential for anything more than crossing something off of a list. It's a chore, something that needs doing in order to repair, maintain, and yes even clean. So I get why people don't like doing it.

And I've decided I don't give a shit.

Do it anyway. Your country takes astonishingly little from you — taxes, the once-in-a-blue-moon jury duty, and a theoretical draft that hasn't been used in over half a century and likely will never be again — but it asks you (asks! not requires! not demands!) to vote once or twice a year. It's not always easy; especially in conservative states, the impediments to vote can be ridiculous. But it is once a year and unlike in our nation's all-too-recent past, you will not die if you do it.

In fact, the worst outcome from voting these days is that the person or issue that you vote for loses — but you won't know if they lose until after the election. Polls are less accurate now, for a whole host of reasons; you cannot know until after the election who or what will win. This makes your vote more valuable than possibly ever before.

Use that power. Not because it's exciting or even rewarding, but because your vote is what keeps our country's metaphorical teeth from falling out and our metaphorical ass from stinking.

Brush, wipe, vote.