#hold on just realized this can work with yan blade too

[lustlovehart]

Blade who travels across the universe, goes to your planet, breaks into your home, and wakes you up in the middle of the night because you sent him a 💀 emoji and he thought it was a code you were dying.

"Mm...? Blade...? Wha why are you here??"

And all he does is shove your text on his phone really close to your face.

And then you have to explain to him not everything you do is a code that you're in danger and need him to come save you.

(All the stuff you say goes in one ear and goes out the other, because the next time you do the same thing, he's already at your window with his sword in hand ready to fight.)

[ddarker-dreams]

Buds of Marigold. Yan Childe x Reader x Yan Scaramouche

Warnings: Implied forced marriage, unhealthy relationships, depictions of anxiety, darling threatening violence against someone, mild not SFW implications.  Word count: 2.5k.

“I never thought the day would come where I’d be so stumped,” Ying’er runs her fingers over glass bottles of essential oils and varying plant nectars. “For such an important customer too… everything needs to be perfect.”

You don’t lift your eyes from the task in your hands, scrubbing valiantly at a stain blemishing an incense pot. To affirm you have been listening, even if you won’t spare her a glance until you’ve finished cleaning, you hum with a rising intonation. Ying’er sinks to the ground with all the grace of a drunken sailor, sniffling in a final attempt to pry out your sympathy.

She hobbles over to where you’re sitting and places her head on your lap. Your body tenses at the sudden touch, but you steady your breathing before it can get noticeable.

“Oh, almighty Yun, the lost Archon of fragrances, have thee no pity for thy devout follower,” Ying’er lifts the back of her hand and presses it against her forehead in a show of unparalleled theatrics. The sight does as she intended, a light giggle leaving your lips at the impromptu melodrama. Her timing lines up well as the stubborn grime you were fighting finally concedes.

You place the incense pot aside and sheepishly pat her head. “Ying’er, how are you going to learn if I give you the answers every time?”

“By your ingenious example!” She exclaims, jutting out her lower lip into a pout. “I’ve already picked out the base, I just need a little nudging in the right direction for the top and mid notes.”

Your eyes soften and your heart is strum with conviction. You soothe your grumbling friend by stroking her hair, humming a soft tune, all the while feeling somewhat baffled by your growth thus far. A few moons ago, you couldn’t have pictured allowing yourself to be touched like this by anyone. It wouldn’t matter how innocent the contact was. The moment someone got too close for comfort, you were willing to reduce them to nothing but a pile of cinders.

You pause your ministrations and sigh. “Fine, fine. I’ll help you compose your perfume. This is the last time though, okay?”

Ying’er ailments seemingly vaporize into the air at your begrudging assistance. She shoots up from her kneeling position like her feet were coiled springs, an overflow of gratitude fumbling past her lips.

“You’re the best, Yun,” she praises and pinches your cheek, much to your chagrin. “Now that I’ve won you over with my charms, how about—”

The front door’s chimes ring, alerting you both of someone entering. You two exchange a look of confusion, as Scent of Spring is closed for the day, the oil lanterns extinguished and doors locked. Your finger twitches by your side in anticipation. Ying’er is blissfully ignorant to your Vision and subsequent ability to command forward a blade, a façade you wish to sustain.

“I’ll handle it,” Ying’er says before you can contemplate your options another second. You nod, an unspoken appreciation etched onto your countenance. The details of your circumstances were purposefully murky and she never presses. Whatever conclusions Ying’er has come to, you prefer it stays that way, not wanting to upset the delicate balance that is your current life.

You straighten out her collar which had wrinkled. “Call me if anything’s wrong.”

Ying’er winks reassuringly and presses her hands over yours, the touch featherlight. “I’m a fearsome opponent, no one would dare cross me.”

Let’s hope that’s true, you think. Frowning, you observe her retreating figure, taking caution to remain out of sight. Ying’er steps out of the backroom, the thick wooden door closing loudly behind her. You keen your ears to listen, cursing internally over how the thick walls muffle their voices. Her voice is one you instantly recognize, but the other belongs to someone with a deeper timbre. Your boss is an elderly woman, so that rules her out. A Millieth, perhaps?

You’re not left waiting for long, much to your relief. Ying’er pops her head back in a few minutes later.

“It was just a returning customer who was pleased with his latest commission, the one you helped me with no less. He had nothing but high praises for it!”

Waves of relief crash over you, but your senses remain on high alert.

“I’m happy to hear that. Still, how did he manage to get in? Didn’t you lock up for the night?” You inquire, hoping you don’t sound overly paranoid. In the back of your mind, you can’t fully discount the idea that it’s him, the thought alone enough to have you shaking in place.

“Must’ve forgotten or something,” she shrugs. You let out a breath you were holding in at her nonchalance, it seems plausible given her airheaded nature. “By the way, Yun, can we work on the perfume in the morning? I just realized how tired I am.”

“Of course. It has been a long day... I’ll finish things up here, go home and get some rest.”

Ying’er waves and wishes you a good night.

It’s now your turn to slump onto the ground, grasping your chest when your knees hit the floor. Deep breaths, deep breaths, you tell yourself. Everything is going to be okay.

This peaceful existence that you’ve fought tooth and nail to build for yourself… the only way it could ever get be stolen from your hands is if air no longer filled your lungs. Your fingers travel underneath the foreign fabric of your Liyue garments, the warmth of your pulsating Vision giving you solace. Tending to the last few chores, your subconscious drifts elsewhere, to an island beyond the sea. What is it you would be doing this time of day again? Ironically enough, you realize you’d be working with incense as you are now, but for different reasons. The reason you excel with curating incense to produce the best aroma is because you were trained to do so.

Your work now is your lifeblood, giving you enough to scrape by undetected. Those days, however, were a different story. It constituted survival like now, but to a far more humiliating degree. It was expected of you to perform your duties with grace and discipline. You would retire early to your shared chambers, prepare and burn your husband’s favorite incense, and fuss over your appearance in the vanity. Then you would loosen the sash of your obi, just enough so that if it had been a frustrating day, he could lose himself in your body for a momentary escape. Those customs had been ingrained into your mind. Had you needed to, you’re certain you could’ve done everything with your eyes closed from memory.

You head for the back exit. Surely, your past self would be thrilled to know your meticulous plans had come to fruition. All those smiles through gritted teeth, submissive language, and patience that could rival that of a god… everything was worth it.

Now you’re no longer the number Six of the Fatui's Eleven Harbingers’ spouse. You’ve taken the identity of Yun, a Visionless worker for a perfume shop in Liyue, everyday defined by freedom. To do as you please, go where you please, speak to who you please. The little details that were stolen from you by his hands return like tentative buds in spring.

You’ve yet to fully assimilate with Liyue’s cuisine, but it’s steadily growing on you. Maybe you’ll make an Inazuma-inspired dish tonight? In the months that have passed, you’ve found a taste for your nation’s food coming back. So as not to repeat Ying’er’s mistake, you double-check the backdoor’s locks, finding it is as it should be. Behind the humble shop is an alley which you use to creep back home. It’s best not to risk traveling out in the open if you can avoid it, you never know what eyes might be hiding in plain sight.

“Liyue apparel compliments you very well.”

With the speed of a descending phoenix, you pivot on your heel, summoning your weapon and pressing it to the jugular of whoever spoke just now. Squinting, your eyes take a few long seconds to adjust. Once they do, your body feels like it’s being drug into the underworld, the air in your lungs forced out. This man… you’ve seen him before. He gives you an all teeth grin, azure eyes swirling with delight and face contorting in amusement.

You remain steadfast through your bewilderment. “Try and scream and I’ll slit your throat.”

“I’m not much of a screamer,” Childe replies, laughing as if the situation was comical. “It’s good to see you too, [First]. Never thought I’d happen upon an old face in Liyue. I knew I recognized that unique combination of perfume, looks like I was right.”

It hits you that this is the first time you’ve heard your actual name in months. How Childe says it doesn’t feel right, he utters it with familiarity. Though, from what you remember, he’s never been known for having boundaries. Scaramouche would complain about his conduct for hours if given the opportunity. This would be the first time you’ve spoken with him, not from a lack of trying on his behalf. When Childe paid a visit to your husband’s estate, you were expected to be present at the start of their meetings. They would discuss business together while you stood there and looked easy on the eyes. Occasionally, you would refill their tea, but that was all you were permitted to do.

The look Scaramouche shot Childe when the latter tried speaking with you was enough to give you nightmares for days.

“What… what are you going to do now?” You murmur, anticipating the worst. This isn’t going to end well no matter what. If Fatui are in Liyue, that means Childe’s likely told someone where he was going; meaning that him going missing would be suspicious and warrant an investigation. On the other hand, who is to say he won’t just return you to Scaramouche if you let him live? You doubt your tears and pleading would have any effect on the youngest Harbinger. He’s similar to your husband — acting altruistic and kind — only to show their true colors when it suits them best.

“Right now? I’m trying not to get my throat slit,” he raises an eyebrow like that was the most obvious answer.

You bite your lower lip. “We both know you could get out of this hold if you wanted to.”

“Emphasis on the ‘if I wanted to’ part. As of right now, I don’t believe I do, being held by you is rather enjoyable,” Childe tests the waters by moving forward, humming in contentment when you lessen your grip as not to slice through his skin. “See? You’ve never even killed someone before. Call it intuition, but I don’t think you could.”

He reconsiders the proposition for a second. “Well, maybe if it was him...”

“You’re as insufferable as I remember,” you hiss, imbuing heat into your blade. Childe barely backs off and the unspoken threat. “Everyone who refuses to take me seriously comes to regret it.”

“Don’t worry, I fully agree with that. The Balladeer reduced you to nothing but a pretty little ornament. He underestimated you and this is the consequence.” Childe has an easier time maintaining eye contact than you do. It’s another minute detail that expresses the gap in your experience. You may be adequately trained in combat, but that pales in comparison when faced with a trained killer. This sorry charade will end the moment he wants it to.

Hate floods through your veins like venom. He’s looking down on you, just in a different way than how your husband would. Where Scaramouche was condescending and sadistic, Childe is brutally honest and teasing. It’s a split-second decision on your behalf, one motivated by the desire to prove this smug bastard wrong more than self-preservation. You loosen your grip on him and jump back. It’s not a lot of space, however, it should be enough to allow you room to react when he strikes.

He goes silent. It’s painfully obvious that he’s trying to get a read on you, now that you’re veering into unexpected territory.

“You were waiting for an opening, weren’t you?” Your words come out with more strength than you thought possible, deep from the chest and guttural. “Well, here you go. It’s the best you’re going to get.”

Childe blinks. Once, twice. His shoulders start to tremble, his chest following soon after, and he lifts his gloved hand to cover his mouth. Hearty laughter leaves his lips and pierces your self-esteem. You don’t understand what’s so humorous to him — though you’re well aware these Harbingers hold no humanity — repulsion flooding your system. This feels nostalgic in the worst ways possible. Early on in your marriage, Scaramouche would regard your resistance with a similar air of blatant dismissal, like your protests were nothing but a tantrum.

“You were wasted with him,” Childe’s loathsome cackling dies down, a maniacal grin splitting his face ear to ear. “Now I understand… the way you’re looking at me now is chilling. Exciting. In what ways have you evolved to survive? I love the fight in you, unlike him. Your adaptability is remarkable, like that of the most cunning prey. ” 

Prey. The dehumanizing word makes you frown, yet you remain firm in your stance. This is the best chance, you think, now that you’ve managed to surprise him once. There’s plenty more where that came from. Tendrils of molten flames, like they were stolen from the sun itself, would make for a considerable challenge. Harbinger or not, he should know better than to charge in without thinking twice when you hold a Pyro Vision.

His face returns to a more casual visage and he waves his hand. “I never had any intention of bringing you back to Inazuma. You think a Mora reward would be a good enough motivator for me to do that?”

“T-then why are you here?” You challenge, ever the skeptic. Childe can weave a tale of lies as much as he wants. That doesn’t mean you’ll allow yourself to be ensnared in it.

“I wanted to see how you’d react,” his nonchalant admission leaves you speechless. “Needless to say, you didn’t disappoint. A pretty face with the feist to match. I’m looking forward to getting to know you better.”

“Oh, fuck off with that,” you snarl, your vision almost going red from the fury holding you hostage. Now that you no longer need to play the subservient partner, vulgarities come to you with ease, and you have no shortage of them for this blight in the flesh.

Childe’s smile widens. “No can do, I’m afraid. My curiosity has gotten the better of me this time. Could I tame you? Break your spirit better than he did? So show me your resolve to be free, sweet [First].”

He readies himself and you do as well. It’s in the dull illumination of the overhead lanterns that you realize there is no light in his eyes. How fitting, you think. That even his body has come to accept his lack of humanity.

“Go on. I’ll give you a ten second head start. After that... well, you’ll just have to find out, won’t you?” 

[drwcn]

I loved your fem lwj take on things. How would thibgs go if WWX was the lady? Other than ppl assuming she stood up for the Wens bcs she jad feelings for WN ( and that Yuan was hers)

Heyyy friend, I think I’ve seen a couple of girl!wwx fics floating around in ao3 so i certainly won’t be the first :P.

Also I completely misread your ask initially, I thought you were asking me what I think would happen if A-Yuan was WWX’s kid, and I was like oh?? But then I realize wait... I can make it worse.  

Today, I decided that my mortal soul doesn’t matter, so here we go. Let’s see how accursed I can make this idea: 

[1]

It started with Jiang Cheng. Jiang Wanyin had set out for the Burial Mount with the explicit goal of throttling speaking with Wei Wuxian, but what greeted him at the entrance of the “Demon Subduing Palace” — more of a cave than anything really — was not his martial sister, but Wen Ning. Well, what had once been Wen Ning.

Black veins ran across his pale, ashen face, down his equally ashen neck , and into the major veins beneath his clavicles covered by the collars of his black threadbare robes. Lifeless eyes, white as his skin, stared into a void the living could not see. There were talismans littering his body, and Jiang Cheng knew that when he spoke to this fierce corpse, he was not speaking to the young Wen boy, but to his mistress who controlled him with her demonic cultivation. 

Wei Wuxian refused to face him. Refused him explanation. Refused him closure.

“Er-jie!” Jiang Cheng screamed into the stony expressionless face of Wen Qionglin. “If you continue to protect them, then I can’t protect you!!” 

There was no response. 

Suddenly, just as Jiang Cheng was about to kick and fight his way into the cave, Wen Ning thrusted out his right fist, and in his grasp was a piece of purple silk. Jiang Cheng unfolded the silk, vaguely recognizing that it had been cut from someone’s robe, and saw what was wrapped within was a slip of parchment.

割袍断义*, the paper read. Tell the world that I, Wei Wuxian, first disciple of Yunmeng Jiang has forever defected (Note: 割袍断义- to rip one's robe as a sign of repudiating a sworn brotherhood (idiom)).

With this, there was nothing left to say. Hurt and furious, Jiang Wanyin threw the piece of parchment onto the dirt ground, grinded his heel down on it, and left the Burial Mount without ever having drawn Sandu. 

Inside the cave, Wen Qing held Wei Wuxian’s hand. “Why won’t you just tell him? He’s your brother; he can help you, you can —” 

Wei Wuxian’s mile long stare seemed to be gazing at something — someone — very far away. Slowly, she placed her other palm over her belly, which horrifically was already starting to round out. “Nobody can help me now, Qing-jie.”

“I can,” said Wen Qing, blunt as ever. “I can make it go away, if you want.”

“No.” A droplet of tear escaped pass long lashes. “No.” 

[2] 

It continued with Jiang Cheng.

On a snowy night, the first winter after Wei Wuxian escaped with the Wen remnants to the Burial Mount, Jiang Cheng was rudely awakened from his slumber by a less-than-stealthy intruder breaking and entering into his bed chamber.

Zidian whipped through the air, lighting the room with her eerie violet glow, before the intruder could think to take one more step. It was a man, judging from his silhouette colliding against the wall and the pained groan he made in response. The very next second, the tail of Zidian coiled tightly around his neck and dragged him across the floor towards beneath Jiang Cheng’s waiting foot. 

The Sect Master of Yunmeng Jiang summoned Sandu, ready to deliver the final strike, but just as his blade sailed towards the intruder’s chest, a pale arm jutted upwards, blocking Sandu’s descent and revealing a pale hand holding a … a... 

Even in the dark, Jiang Cheng immediately recognized the mahogany comb. 

“Jiang — ! Zongzhu —!” The man croaked out urgently, throat still stomped on by Jiang Cheng’s foot. It was - it was Wen Ning?!

Jiang Cheng looked him over. He was pale, yes, but his eyes appeared human. His hair was brushed and haphazardly done up in a farmer’s top knot. He was wearing farmer’s clothing too, probably more inconspicuous for travel than his Ghost General getup.  

“Jiang-zongzhu! P—please!!”

No, impossible. 

“Wei — Wei-guniang—”

Jiang Cheng lifted his foot and dragged Wen Ning up in a split second. “What’s wrong with Wei Wuxian?!”  Wen Ning coughed and shook his head desperately. “No time to explain. My sister asked me to fetch you. Please, you have to come! Wei-guniang’s life is in danger! If you won’t come, I’ll...I’ll have to go to Gusu, and I don’t know if - if -” 

Jiang Cheng followed Wen Ning. 

For speed, they travelled by sword, but even so, dawn was breaking by the time they arrived. The crowd of Burial Mount’s villagers huddling anxiously outside of the Demon Subduing Palace parted for them upon their arrival. Jiang Cheng took a moment to gather himself and square his shoulders. Whatever it was; he was ready.  

He was wrong. None of the dozens of scenario he had agonized over on the flight here could have prepared him for what awaited him inside. 

Wen Qing, pale and drenched in sweat, was near complete spiritual collapse, and without Wen Qing’s spiritual energy sustaining her, the single tenuous thread by which Wei Wuxian’s life hung on would have undoubtedly snapped under the toil and devastation her body had been put through. 

There was so much blood, so, so much blood everywhere, and amidst the blood, there was a baby. 

Fuck. 

Jiang Cheng transfused his sister half of his total spiritual reserve over the course of a day, while an exhausted but unrelenting Wen Qing worked diligently under blood-soaked sheets. 

Then at dusk, when the storm finally passed, Jiang Cheng sat at the mouth of the cave with a tiny, perfect little human — a girl, a niece! —  in his arms and cursed Lan Wangji’s name. 

Wen Qing was extremely clear with them: 孩子要是留在这里，养不活。

If the newborn was left to be raised at the Burial Mount, she would not live. And so, because parting was inevitable from the start, Wei Wuxian adamantly refused to hold or nurse the child. Her child. 

I can’t. If I do, I won’t be able to let her go. Those dark eyes burned with more than just the delirium of her childbed fever. For once, Jiang Cheng could not find it in himself to argue.

Thus, he took his niece home and named her Jiang Yan 江曕. The name was not his doing. His foolish, misguided, stubborn sister had stroked her daughter’s soft, baby cheek and whispered it to her as a farewell gift. 

Yan - to be bathed in daylight. In the end, when given a choice, Wei Wuxian still opted for her child to walk on broad sunny road. 

It made Jiang Cheng wonder why, then, she would choose the dark twisted path for herself instead. 

[3] 

It ended with Jiang Cheng. 

The truth was simple: Jiang Wanyin killed his shijie Wei Wuxian. He did. He meant to. 

He killed her. But that did not mean he wanted her dead. 

In one day, he had lost both of his sisters, leaving two orphans in their wake. Jiang Cheng could not ignore the cruel irony of their fate: one’s father murdered by his aunt, and other’s mother murdered by her uncle. 

This was the kind of tragedy fairytales were made of, and if there were anything left in him to shed tears over it, he would.  Standing amongst Nevernight’s carnage, he could not dredge up even a single drop of tear.  

Jiang Cheng didn’t know how he could return home to Lotus Pier to face that cherub face, always so happy, so sweet, so utterly untainted by the world. She had her mother’s smile. Yan'er was starting to learn how to speak. Her first words were da-da. 

Da-da. Die-die. Father. 

He was standing beside her father now. 

Lan Wangji. Devastated. Destroyed. …Deceived.

Jiang Cheng hated him so much, so fucking much that for one insane second, he thought about telling Lan Wangji the truth just to see what would happen. Maybe he would run Jiang Cheng through with his Bichen - that would be a relief now, wouldn’t it? - or maybe he would jump after Wei Wuxian. 

Truly, if he knew, he would. Jump, that is. Jiang Cheng was almost entirely sure. Oh the utter melodrama that would inspire indeed!  

But then... 

Wei Ying birthed you a daughter, a lovely, perfect, blessed little girl, and she carried that secret to her grave. I may be damned by my actions, but you, who have done nothing for her and taken everything, why should you deserve something as sacred as the truth?

Jiang Cheng turned away. 

He was acutely aware that one day Jiang Yan may very well be the literal death of him. After all — 杀母之仇不共戴天 — one cannot tolerate living under the same sky as the murderer of one’s mother. 

Be that as it may, he would raise Jiang Yan well, just as he promised. Unlike his sister, he would not break his word. Jiang Yan was of Lotus Pier, of Yunmeng, like her mother and grandfather before her. That for him, was enough. 

Jiang Cheng clutched Sandu and gripped Zidian. Whatever his fate, he already made peace with it, and the rest was inconsequential. 

One day, he may die, but today he lives, and so as long as he lives, Jiang Yan and all of Yunmeng Jiang will be protected . So as long as he lives, they will flourish. 

[...and in between]

On the streets of Yiling, Lan Wangji tilted his head inquisitively at Wei Wuxian and the little boy at her side and asked, “This child, he...” 

In response, Wei Wuxian patted her chest in a self-declarative kind of way and announced, “Oh this child, I birthed him!” 

He stared at her in shell-shocked silence, his mind racing with panicked thoughts of but that’s impossible — that was just once — even if — the boy is too old to be —

“怎么，蓝湛，不要我们娘儿俩了？” What, Lan Zhan, you don’t want the child and I?

“Wei— Wei Ying—” 

Then of course, she had laughed, and Lan Wangji thought no more of it. 

Just a joke. A silly joke. 

In time, he would come to realize his mistake. 

~~~

[A/N]: I’m not even a little bit sorry. 

[zv5x]

Please bestie.... could we get a yan!Nene x fem!reader for the nene simps in the da back like me 🥺

I sure can! Always happy to feed the simps >:3

Hope you enjoy this! And remember, requests are always open! Remember to take care of yourself today, anon! You're loved!

( :̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

The aching pain in your legs ate at your body and mind, and the sound of echoing giggles bouncing off each of the walls around you tormented you to no end. However, even with the relentless agony you were enduring, you knew just one thing - that to survive, you had to escape first. There was no way you could stay in an environment with such insanity, such madness, and still be able to consider yourself a living, functioning organism by the end of it. Your former schoolmate has already established herself as a vicious animal with murders under her belt that you have unfortunately seen with your very two eyes, and you promised yourself that you would do absolutely everything in your power to not be immortalized as the latest victim of her slasher-like, sporadic violence.

Since her earliest days of conscious life, Nene always considered herself a fan of things most individuals would consider "chaotic", and she expressed that interest with pride, both by non-verbal cues and the much more obvious ones, and this was all despite the slight jabs her closest friends would make on her for such an "edgy" way of looking at life and existence as a whole. Of course, she never minded the cracks at her character, and they didn't bother her in the slightest. She knew her friends didn't mean it, and the high of having complete control of a seemingly out of control situation just made her just as happy as her friends were telling those "edgelord" jokes they always loved telling. Situations like these without a single doubt made up for anything that anyone could ever say to her, and the sound of your heavy breathing and your loud footsteps as you ran across the hallways was enough to make her giddy with excitement.

It was almost like a game of sorts. To her, at the very least. It was undeniably intense, sure, but the reward would make up for the grandiosity of the effort the nature of this game expected her and you both to put forth. The way she imagined herself being able to hold your soft body in hers, taking in your sent and telling you everything she couldn't tell you in the love letters she scattered around every inch of flooring your feet touched, it made her walk even faster, and the physical path you were taking to try and escape her even clearer.

You were a fool. Truly. You just couldn't understand how vulnerable you were in a cutthroat world like this one. You didn't know how to properly navigate the world around you, as you hopelessly trusted practically everyone you came across, partaking in meaningless small talk or standing far too close to them as you pointed them in a certain direction upon their request for instructions. No matter what Nene said or did, you seemed to just not be able to grasp the amount of danger you were putting yourself in.

You were so ignorant. So ignorant in fact, that you didn't even realize Nene was right behind you until she slammed her blade into the wall that you were huddled against, which provoked an immediate response. She immediately took it back out and laughed as she watched you instantly jump up, removing your head from in between your knees, only to be met with those crazed eyes she looked at you so lovingly with. She smirked, tapping her foot comically and shaking her head at you. How could you be so utterly stupid to think she'd ever let you crawl away from her, especially in these circumstances. Nene, though she hated your stupidity right down to her very core, was most definitely dependant on it. How else could you fall right into the correct places every single time, which made her plans so easily work? How else could you have led her right to every individual she found herself as needing to vanquish from the world? If you were on an even remotely similar level to her in the intelligence department, she might have found it much easier to ask from her two good friends some much needed assistance. Assistance, something Nene absolutely despised admitting she needed.

"You all done, sweetie?" She sang her words in such a sickening tone, and you shivered as the sounds hit your ears. Her shining optimism and happy overview of the situation spelled out nothing more or less than pure insanity to you, and Nene seemed more like a modern media stereotype of an asylum patient to you than the loving girlfriend she wished to be seen as in your eyes.

As your response remained silent and nonexistent, Nene decided that now would be the time to take that freedom of even being able to respond in the first place away from you. All by removing you from public society and setting in stone your role as a blank slate of a girlfriend, only existing to be a projection of everything Nene so delusionally sees as perfection. Holding out her hand and giving you a child-like smile, she spoke:

"How about you make this easier for the both of us and just come with me, alright?"

Though you knew Nene was insane, you also knew she was a grand threat. You knew you didn't have a choice in the situation at this point.

Hesitant and traumatized, you reached out right back.

[miscellaneous-bnha]

Maybe it’s just me, but I’ve been having this god awful itch for (lowkey) Yandere Scumbag Hawks.

Could be friends to lovers... if you squint? Slow burn? But not really? Uh....

Female! Reader

TW: Scumbag Hawks, Lowkey Yan, Breeding, Dubious consent, Hawks in a rut, Hawks has a knot simply because I deem it so.

You, a normal civilian, happen to stumble across a weakened pro hero Hawks who took an emergency landing on your apartment patio.

Of course you’re not going to leave him there; as warm as his coat may seem, what’s the point of leaving him out in the snow when you’ve got a nicely heated apartment you could let him in to.

Either he’s gone through some seriously rough shit or he’s a lot more out of it than you think, but he nearly scares the piss out of you when he points a feather blade at you, eyes wild and furious, before slowly registering that you’re just a normal civilian.

He grins— it’s more of a grimace than a grin, really— and moves the blade away from you, laughing sheepishly before breaking into a cough. When he moves his hand away, you can tell there’s blood on it.

“Sorry about that, pretty bird. Wasn’t expecting anyone. I’ll be taking off now.” He tries to climb to his feet, but he’s a lot more battered than he’s willing to show.

“Wait! Why don’t you come inside for a bit? Get some energy back before you go flying off to some other balcony.” You offer, and he smiles wryly.

“Would that be alright? I don’t want you to feel like you have to.”

“Of course! Come in, come in!” You usher him in as he limps, helping him to the couch before going and shutting the patio door.

It turns out he ended up needing to stay a lot longer than either of you originally planned; a surprised snowstorm hit late into the night, forecasted to last for some days. He said that he could always try to brave it if you felt uncomfortable with a “strange man” in your apartment, but you only laughed it off.

“Honestly, with how often your private life gets invaded, you’re by far one of the least strange people.”

——————————

He ends up having to stay three days before the storm calms down, but he’s gotten significantly better since then.

Originally, you were worried about the blood in his cough, but it turned out to be a side effect of the blistering cold winds being harsh on his throat and a rough hit to the chest that left him winded and coughing, but nothing more.

The three days he did stay were rather enjoyable, and you found yourself missing his company when he had gone.

You didn’t think much of it though; he’s a pro-hero with an image to upkeep, so you doubted that you’d see much of him personally after this.

But ever the surprise, you found him knocking on your patio door not even a day later, grinning and holding up a bag of food.

“Thought it would be nice to at least return the favor. For taking care of me, y’know?”

“You don’t have to worry about that, Hawks. I did it because it was the right thing to do.”

“Eeeeh, still. Maybe I just wanted an excuse to see a pretty bird again.”

——————————

And just like that, you came to have an unexpected friendship with the No. 2 pro hero.

Whenever he needed a quiet place to crash or some company, you found yourself leaving the patio door open.

In turn, if you ever felt unsafe or if you had a bad day at work, a simple brush of the feather he’d given to you was all it would take to send him flying your way.

Monthly visits turned into bi weekly visits, then into weekly visits, then every other day. Soon enough, he started coming every evening. “What’s a meal without good company?” He’d said, holding food in one hand and drinks in the other.

“All that fried chicken isn’t good for you, Hawks. Let me cook you some actual food every once in a while.”

——————————

When he had suddenly disappeared for a week, you were concerned, but didn’t want to push him. Then two weeks went by with no Hawks, and you started to get worried.

When the third week rolled around, you unconsciously gripped the feather that hung around your neck, screaming in shock when there was a sudden **”THUD���** against the patio window.

“Hawks!? What are you doing?!” You try and check his face for bruising or bleeding, but he tried to bat at your hands weakly,

“I’m okay, I’m okay. Felt you touch your feather, so I came.” You wince,

“I’m sorry about that. It was an accident.”

“Ah, no worries. I’ll just head back home then.”

You fully intended on letting him go, but your mouth tended to work faster than your brain sometimes.

“Um, actually, Hawks...” you start, only to freeze when he faces you,

“Yeah?” You’re silent for a moment, then you shake your head,

“No, it’s nothing. Sorry.” You smile, but he doesn’t turn to leave again,

“Nah, I think there’s something on your mind. What is it?”

“... I just wanted to make sure I didn’t... offend you, or something. You’ve been gone for a while and I just...” you shuffle a bit, “I mean, it’s not really that big of a deal either, y’know? I just— heh— If you’re just tired of coming around all the time, that’s cool too.”

He looks baffled for a moment, then the realization crosses his face. You think for a moment you see him trying to plot something, but it’s gone before you can think on it.

“I um.... actually... do you mind if I sit?”

“Of course not. Feel free to do what you like.”

He takes a seat on the couch, his wings ruffling and fluffing up before they settle again. A part of you wonders if you really should have looked up bird behaviors.

“I.. started my rut, but I didn’t think it was possible.” And suddenly you start to feel a little stupid.

“O-oh... I— uh— I’m sorry.” He wheezes out a laugh,

“No, no, it’s fine. I should have said something instead of just disappearing.”

“Well, I mean, that’s your private matter so—“

“Technically yes, but... also, you have a right to know. You are the reason I went into a rut, after all.” Your jaw drops for a moment.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Not to say that I’m trying to blame you— I’m really not. It’s just... you know how you’re always cooking meals, letting me in?”

“Y...yeah?”

“My body thought I was trying to nest, so... it put me into a rut.”

“Ah... I see.”

You both sit awkwardly for a moment, so he stands and moves to leave.

“Anyway, sorry about that. If it makes you uncomfortable, I won’t come around anymore.”

“I, well, no. Wait!” You grab his arm as he tries to leave, making him halt,

“If... if it’s my fault, I want to help.”

“I, uh, w-well... it’s not— I— you know we’d have to fuck, right?”

You’re both bright red, you more than him, but you nod wordlessly.

“Well... so long as you’re willing to take responsibility...” he mutters. You’re too busy looking at your feet to see the wild grin on his face,

—————————

“Fuck, Hawks!” You yelp, his cock plunging in and out of you roughly,

“Shit, sorry baby bird...! Your pretty little cunt’s just sucking me in!” He growls, his hands pinning your shoulders down.

You’re stuck with your face in the mattress, ass in the air. With him looming over you, feathers spread across your room, shuddering in time with his wings, the only think you can hear is the wet slaps of his hips smacking into yours.

“Hawks...! You gotta slow down...!”

“I’m trying, but your greedy little pussy won’t let me go!”

You whine, head fogging over when his cock somehow manages to push deeper.

“See? You’re just sucking me in, baby!”

You feel the brush of more feathers falling onto you, shivering and tickling your already overheated skin. His claws dig into your shoulders when you twitch, making you borderline scream and clench tightly around his cock.

“Ooooh fuckfuckfuckfuck fffffUCK! Keep squeezing just like that, pretty bird. Tighten around my fat fucken cock!” You feel him drape himself over you, his chest pressed to your back, wings closing around the both of you as much as they can.

You suddenly feel something stretching and tugging at your entrance, and you start to squirm again.

“W-wait! You promised to pull out...!”

“How am I supposed to pull out when you’re the one squeezing so tight??” He growls, thrusts getting more frantic,

“Hawks!”

“Ffffffuck— just shut up and take it. Take my fucking cum—!”

You cry out sharply when his knot fully inflates inside of you, the sudden stretch sending you flying over the edge with him.

“Hawks...”

“Shhh.... this is all your fault, remember?”

“But you promised—“

“And I tried, but your cute little cunt just wouldn’t let go, pretty bird. You were practically begging for me to fill you up. Get you pregnant with my little chickadees.” He rubs your belly,

“But that’s okay, right? You said you wanted to take responsibility, remember?”

“Yeah—“

“Then take responsibility, baby. Have my chicks, and I promise I’ll take responsibility too.” The words to argue back are stripped from your mouth when he starts grinding his still knotted cock into you, making your mind go blank,

“C’mon, pretty bird. Say it for me. ‘I’ll have your chicks, Keigo’.”

“Ha—“

“Uh-uh. Not Hawks. Keigo.”

“Kei—!” Your voice cuts off into a silent scream when he hits the sweet spot deep inside you,

“C’mon, baby. Say it and be mine.”

—————————

You don’t remember if you ever actually said it all those years ago, but you can hardly bring yourself to care.

You smile as you rub your swollen belly, watching as your eldest son and his little sister play in the yard.

“C’mon, kids. Time to go back in. Daddy will be home soon.”

“Okay!!”

And, sure enough, not even 10 minutes later, you hear the front door open, the voice of your husband echoing through the house.

“Where are my little chickadees?”

[lillotte17]

Tomorrow

Got hooked watching Word of Honor and Zhou Zishu's Sad Face Journeys in episodes 33-34 came for my life, so I wrote a little scene set after the whole Heroes Conference Thing. ...And then Wen KeXing showed up and just...*gestures vaguely* I don't know what happened here. XD

~

Zhou Zishu sits quietly beside the bed, watching Wen KeXing's sleeping face with an ache in his chest that has nothing to do with his failing body, and everything to do with the fact that he is about to die.

When his shidi had made a miraculous reappearance at the Heroes Conference, his first reaction was gut-wrenching surprise. It felt as though the ground had suddenly dissolved beneath his feet. His heart leaping so high in his throat that he forgot how to breathe. Dizzy with the overwhelming rush of joy and confusion. Uncertain whether to laugh or cry.

But once the shock had subsided, the anger had been hot on its heels. And he wanted to be mad about it. Wanted to take Wen KeXing by the shoulders and shake him so hard that his teeth rattled around in his skull. Wanted to scream and sob and rail against the now inevitably fast-burning candle of his fate. At the unfairness of losing his life just as he had found something worth living for again. Someoneworth living for. For a few moments, the fury had burned so brightly in him he thought it might be enough to kill him then and there. That the fire between his lungs would simply burst his chest open and engulf everything around them in a sea of red.

But when they had caught each other’s gaze, he had seen the apology roiling in Wen KeXing’s dark eyes, raw and miserable, even without a word being said. The apology, and the fear. That same fear Zishu had seen flicker across his face every time he had tried to coax him into confessing that he was from Ghost Valley. The same fear he had seen in him the night Wen KeXing had snuck out of the Four Seasons Manor to intercept Ye BaiYi and tried to prevent him from reveling his identity. And yet again, when Han Ying had died, and he had nearly killed himself in a blind panic trying to fix it somehow. The fear whispered that death was preferable to his hatred. That his blade would be kinder than his revulsion. That Wen KeXing would sacrifice anything to avoid being abandoned once again.

Zhou Zishu was helpless in the face of it; as he always seems to be. The look that passed between them had been fast and fleeting, there and gone again with barely a blink, but it was enough to douse the flames of his anger with a tide of chilling and fathomless grief. The rest of the Heroes Conference passed before him in a daze. Vengeance, and justice, and pride. Wen KeXing blazing in the brightest and truest version of himself for all to see. Dazzling and mesmerizing and impossible to look away from. He does not know if he has ever loved him more, even as he felt his heart slowly sinking down into the pit of his stomach. The numbness of acceptance settling into his bones.

There will be no escape from death, this time.

He had been quiet on the way back to Jing BeiYuan’s Manor. Quiet enough to worry both Wen KeXing and ChengLing, who always seems to see more than he understands. He had listened to their reasons and excuses, and he had done his best to reassure them afterwards, but his own words sound hollow in his ears. The best he could do was to get Lao Wen hopelessly drunk, and pray that it made him less intuitive. The suffusion of elation and hope in the air had nearly been enough to choke him, though. He did not want to rob them of it, but he found he could take part in it either, no matter how much he wanted to. He could not bring himself to celebrate a future he can no longer share with them.

Zhou Zishu understands Wen KeXing. He understands that he is just as abysmal at properly conveying affection as he is himself, if not more so. The man only knows how to protect people he cares for by either sending them away from him or drowning them both in blood. It is how he had managed to survive all those years surrounded by madness and chaos and death. Zishu had done much the same, while he was working in the capital. Hiding all of their softer places far away from where the light could reach them. Playful banter has always passed easily between them, but tenderness is heavier, and vulnerabilities almost impossible to speak aloud. They are both trying to do better, struggling to pull their own humanity back into their hands where it can be shared freely, but Wen KeXing’s hurts are older and deeper. His path back to the world of the living inevitably more winding and complex. He still has not mastered the art of articulating his fears and concerns.

Zhou Zishu’s health was tenuous even before he had been kidnapped and tortured. As much as he hated to admit it, he had been in no fit state to fight an angry mob. Wen KeXing hid the truth from him because he knew that he would chafe at being told to stay out of harm’s way; that they would have argued about it until he was either allowed to participate in the scheme or he was spitting blood and passing out on the floor. Zishu cannot even say that this assessment of his character was a bad one, but it still stung to be kept in the dark, and the hurt was lingering. And yet, however deep the barb of this secret may have landed, however misplaced the caution may or may not have been, he knows without a shred of doubt that Wen KeXing’s deception was born of love, and he can hardly hold that against him.

Especially not now.

Wen KeXing turns his head slightly, mumbling something that sounds suspiciously like an extremely slurred version of his name. His expression is smooth and peaceful, his hair a dark fan across the bed behind him. The rosy glow of happiness and alcohol still pinking the apples of his cheeks.

Zishu smiles despite himself. It is much easier to find traces of the little boy his master had planned to take for his second disciple when he looks like this; safe and sleeping and completely at ease for the first time in who knows how long. He wishes he could recall those few precious days they had spent together as children with more clarity, but the memory of it is like a silk brocade left to sit too long in the sunshine, its delicate patterns fading as the colors wash away in a flood of light. Zhou Zishu had been too young to fully comprehend the weight of death when his master had returned from his trip to collect the Wen family without his shidi or his parents in tow. That his master had been sad about it was enough to impact him, but in the grand scheme of things, the wounds to his own heart had been minimal.

What would have happened if they had kept looking for Zhen Yan, he wonders. If he and Wen KeXing had grown up together as best friends and martial brothers and soulmates? Would their master have found a way to soothe Zhen Yan’s rage before it consumed him? Would Zhou Zishu have made the same mistakes with the Window of Heaven if Wen KeXing had been at his side? Perhaps they could have saved each other before things had reached the place they were now. Or perhaps Wen KeXing would have died under Zhou Zishu’s leadership with the rest of their sect, and his failures would have tasted that much more bitter.

He sighs quietly. There is no sense dwelling on things he cannot change. He had been a child, and just as powerless to save Wen KeXing from his fate as the boy himself had been. Feeling guilty about it was meaningless at this point. It was enough to have him here and now. Enough that they had had any time together at all. Enough that Wen KeXing had fallen off of that cliff and somehow still managed to walk back to him.

It has to be enough, because it is all they have. All they can have. Even if he wants more.

“Ah Xu?”

The voice is thick with sleep, but marginally less inebriated than before.

“Mn,” Zhou Zishu hums in acknowledgement, his gaze shifting slightly to watch Wen KeXing blink himself back into wakefulness.

“You didn’t go to bed?” he asks, bleary and swaying slightly as he attempts to sit up.

“There is someone in my bed.” Zishu points out archly.

Wen KeXing looks murderous for a few seconds until he realizes that the person in question is, in fact, himself. When the clouds break, his expression immediately shifts to one of insufferable satisfaction. He leans precariously off the side of the bed, robes and hair both hopelessly askew.

“I am always willing to share everything I have with Ah Xu,” he declares with feigned sweetness.

“How kind of Philanthropist Wen to make a present of what he stole from me,” Zhou Zishu snorts, “Your generosity knows no bounds.”

“Ah Xu!” Wen KeXing objects. “How is it stealing when you gave it to me freely? You think I would come to your bedroom with the intention of sleeping?”

“I’m sure I don’t know anything about your intentions.” The reply is given with a smirk, but his eyes dart away from him. “You asked me to drink with you, but the jar you brought was empty. Besides, I am thinking about giving it up. I have been told that it is bad for my health.”

“Aiya, first Ah Xu accuses me of being a thief, and now he tells me such scandalous falsehoods!” Wen KeXing shakes his head, attempting to seem wounded despite the grin on his face. “I already accepted your punishment earlier, there is no reason to be cruel.”

“Who is a liar here?” Zhou Zishu inquires laughingly, gesturing back and forth between them. “Which one of us is the most scandalous?”

“It’s me, it’s me,” Wen KeXing acknowledges, his head bobbing up and down in agreement, “But Ah Xu, you cannot expect me to ever believe that you would willingly give up drinking good wine with me? And as for not understanding my intentions, well…I believe that even less.”

“Was your intention to make sure I could not get any sleep?”

Wen KeXing only smiles at him widely.

“…I regret asking such a question,” Zhou Zishu chuckles, reaching out to lightly slap the side of Wen KeXing’s face in both fondness and chastisement. “Ask a shameless man a question and you are sure to get a shameless reply.”

Wen KeXing grabs hold of his hand before he can pull it away, leaning into it with a sigh.

“What is so shameless about it at this point?” he wonders, something soft and shining igniting within his gaze. “Living together. Dying together. Watching as our hair turns gray with old age. We’ve already promised to share these things, haven’t we? Why give me your bed when we could share that, too?”

Zhou Zishu takes a long look at him. At the dark hair spilling across his shoulder in disarray. The front of his robes just rumpled enough to expose the elegant line of his throat as well as part of his collar bones. The flush of his cheeks and the promise burning in his eyes.

He cannot deny that he wants it. Even knowing it might make things more painful later on. He wants to be selfish. He wants to be greedy while he still can. While he can still hear Lao Wen calling for him and feel his skin beneath his hands. His sense of taste and smell have gone already, but can still see him, and that could be enough. More than enough.

But will it be enough for Wen KeXing?

This is the last thing they have to give each other. The last pieces of themselves they have been holding back. Mostly because there simply had not been time for it amidst the chaos swirling around them. It always seemed as though either their lives were in danger or one of them was injured. Up until now, even Zishu had been optimistic enough to assume they would have time for it later, though. Time to use physical intimacy as an almost second meeting. To learn how they need each other in the quiet and the dark. To learn the ways they can be gentle, and the ways they can be fierce. To burn each other up in desperation and desire.

It seems too heartless to have it be a farewell instead.

Zhou Zishu lets out a long breath.

“…Not when you are drunk,” he says quietly.

Wen KeXing blinks at him in astonishment, eyes blown wide and round as saucers, clearly expecting a flat-out rejection.

A moment later, the blankets have been hastily flung aside, and he is staggering off of the bed has fast as he can. Which, as it turns out, is not very fast at all. Zhou Zishu easily catches him with one arm, lightly pushing him back into a seated position.

“Lao Wen, where do you think you are going?” he laughs.

“I need to sober up,” Wen KeXing explains, looking so serious about it that Zhou Zishu cannot help but reach out and pinch his cheek. Lao Wen slaps his hand away, his expression mulish.

“Don’t pout,” Zishu scolds, still chuckling, “It is too late to be staggering around someone else’s house. With my luck, you would drown yourself in the fish pond, and then BeiYuan and Wu Xi would be terribly put out.”

“But Ah Xu, if you won’t let me leave, and you won’t share the bed, just what do you want me to do?” Lao Wen complains. “Even if you don’t want to have sex, you should at least lay down and rest properly. I want you to get well as soon as possible.”

Zhou Zishu’s mouth stiffens slightly.

“I know.”

Wen KeXing’s brow furrows in concern. He reaches out a hand, long fingers hovering just above his heart, when Zhou Zishu catches them tightly in his own. He is not certain if Lao Wen could glean the truth about his condition from his pulse while still tipsy, but he is not about to run that risk tonight.

“Are the nails bothering you again?” Wen KeXing asks, doleful this time.

“No.”

It is not a lie.

“Then come to bed,” Lao Wen cajoles, using their joined hands to tug him closer, “I promise not to molest you unless you ask me to.”

Zhou Zishu makes a sound of grumbling disbelief, but still allows himself to be pulled down next to Wen KeXing. The bed is big enough for two, but only just. Lao Wen retrieves the formerly discarded blankets from whatever corner he had toss them and bundles them up together like two caterpillars in a single cocoon. His face is close beside him on the pillow, warm breath fanning the side of his neck. An arm drapes loosely about Zishu’s waist, and he turns his head slightly, intending to shoot a warning glare in the other man’s direction.

This is a mistake.

Wen KeXing’s eyes are dark and intense in the moonlight, half closed with either sleep or desire, it is hard to say. His lips part slightly as Zhou Zishu turns to him, and the hand draped around his waist clutches faintly at his robes as if on instinct. Both of them seem to have forgotten how to breathe.

“…Ah Xu, you can kiss me, if you like,” Lao Wen whispers finally, so soft it almost seems like a dream.

“What makes you think I want to kiss you?” he means it to sound teasing, but it comes out in almost a sigh.

“Because I want to kiss you,” Lao Wen replies matter-of-factly.

“I never thought of you as a pillar of self-restraint,” Zhou Zishu huffs.

“I promised to be a gentleman.”

Zishu closes his eyes and lets out a deep, soul-rattling sigh. He is almost glad he cannot smell the oils Wen KeXing uses in his hair or the trace of alcohol on his lips. The proximity is staggering enough all on its own.

“…It would not stop with a kiss,” he admits aloud to both of them.

He does not open his eyes again, but he can feel Wen KeXing’s body tremble slightly as he laughs, and that is almost as bad.

“Ah Xu, I would hardly complain,” he replies, testing his luck by shifting close enough so that their foreheads are lightly touching. “But you want to rest, and I want you rested, so it is no great loss, either way. You will still be here with me tomorrow, after all. There is no need to rush these things. Sometimes, a slow spring is sweeter.”

“Yes,” Zhou Zishu manages to reply around the lump lodged in his throat, “I will still be here tomorrow.”

[translations-by-aiimee]

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 5

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5 - Expert

The subsequent calm was something Lin Yan wasn't expecting. The thing seemed to have decided it tortured him enough and nothing else happened the rest of the night. Lin Yan changed back into his clothes and unplugged his computer. Even though he knew that that probably wouldn't do anything, the screen actually powered off and didn't come back on at all in the night.

Perhaps a new storm was brewing in the silence, but Lin Yan was too exhausted to worry about it. The alcohol that was left in his system worked as a great tranquillizer, and he rolled over and fell asleep.

While he was deep in sleep, something cold pressed itself on his lips again, but Lin Yan was too much a heavy sleeper to realize it.

When he woke up, the entire room was clean. All the red paint had disappeared, the light gray printed wallpaper and the screen wall painted by the students of the Academy of Fine Arts were intact, and the glass was spotless. There was no other evidence to prove that the absurdity of last night had ever happened except for the shameful traces of liquid on Lin Yan's body and clothes. He took a bath and threw the red clothes into the washbowl. Compared with the power of the invisible thing, he was clearly at a disadvantage. Instead of running around without a plan, it was better to observe what happens as things unravel.

After he finished packing things up, Lin Yan took out his phone and texted Yin Zhou about the meeting place. Unexpectedly, he got a reply almost instantly: See you at the school gate in half an hour.

Lin Yan looked at himself in the mirror. Within just two nights, he looked like he had been doing drugs for years, he had a scruffy stubble growing, and his eyes were red. The mint scent of his shaving foam made Lin Yan feel for the first time that his typically monotonous life was actually so much more beautiful than that. The blade was thin and sharp. Just one long stroke across his neck and there would be nothing left.

Humans were such fragile creatures.

"Shit. . ." Lin Yan hissed, sighing at his unfortunate luck and put his fingers under the water. His hand had slipped and he sliced his fingertip on the blade, red blood seeping out. Lin Yan wrapped a bandaid around his finger, leaning against the wall and pondering about how unlucky it was to feel the pain.

He didn't know what kind of dye was used on the funeral clothes, but it had bled dramatically in the water. After a while, the whole basin of water had been dyed red. Lin Yan glanced at it in disgust as he left and slammed the door shut.

At 8 o'clock, Lin Yan saw Yin Zhou holding a Scallion pancake and some fruit in front of the school gate.

The two of them regretted trying to drive. The roads were clogged with morning rush hour traffic to the point that they couldn't even see the end of the lines of cars. What genius designed this kind of urban roundabout? Five ring roads surrounded the main road and they were forced to convene together every morning and night.

Lin Yan and Yin Zhou were nearing the third ring road and they still didn't have any temper, so all they could do was turn on the radio and eat the breakfast that Yin Zhou brought.

"A 13-year-old boy from a remote village in Sichuan was found hanged at home wearing a red coat. The locals suspected it was most likely cult-related. It is reported that the boy's time of birth and time of death are both extremely negative times and very suitable for. . ."

Lin Yan snapped the radio off.

It seemed that everything in the world had been messed up overnight. Even this kind of unreliable news could be relayed to the public.

Yin Zhou didn't care. He swallowed the last bite of his pancake and hiccuped. He said with satisfaction: "I spent the rest of the night in the library. I was starving and I couldn't buy anything. It's great to feel full."

"There was no exam recently, what were you doing at the library?"

"I was studying the enemy's intelligence. This enemy works in the dark. Can we defeat it if we understand how it operates? What do you think, buddy?"

Lin Yan turned his face to look at the crowded traffic outside the window. He stayed silent for a while before he said softly, "Do you really believe that there are ghosts in this world? I feel like something is wrong with me. Maybe I should see a psychiatrist first."

Yin Zhou's eyes widened in surprise: "Come on, even if something's up with you, I'm totally normal, yet we both saw those clothes yesterday."

". . . At your house the day before yesterday, I was the only one who thought it was cold, and I was the only one who could feel ‘it’ in the house."

Lin Yan sorted out his thoughts and told Yin Zhou his experience of being choked by someone last night.

Lin Yan wasn't expecting it but Yin Zhou exploded after hearing this, and blurted out: "Fuck, that ghost was a rabbit master* during his lifetime?" He scanned Lin Yan's face over and over again: "Little Brother Lin, don't tell me. . . you can be considered a nice-looking guy if you look closely. He's dead and maybe he's lonely and wants to recruit you as his wife."

*because they would kill the rabbit by snapping its neck

"Fuck you. If you aren't going to be serious, get out of my car and leave. Don't forget to burn two boxes of condoms for me when I croak." Lin Yan said quietly. The car behind him honked its horn twice, and Lin Yan realized that while he was talking, a 5-6 metre gap had cleared in front of him. He hurriedly followed the line of traffic.

"Furthermore, in the middle of the night, I obviously saw that the whole house was covered with red paint, but in the morning there was nothing. It was as if I had been dreaming."

Yin Zhou dragged the backpack out of the back seat and hugged it in his arms. He said, "Hey, let me show you the results of my brother's research." As he talked, he opened his bag and took out a dozen crumpled papers from it and spread them out on his knees. He flattened them with his hands and started going over them from top to bottom.

"You can't take care of shit. I feel uncomfortable just looking at those."

"See, the attributes of a wife. This ghost saw it perfectly."

A grass mud horse roared and ran across Lin Yan's heart.

Sure enough, these geeks are something else.

"Listen carefully." Yin Zhou pushed up his glasses with his long fingers: "There are generally two modern interpretations of ghosts. The first is due to the discovery of dark matter. You know the law of conservation of energy?"

". . . Go on." Lin Yan gave him a blank look.

"The universe expands at a certain rate every year. If the law of conservation of energy goes as normal, where does the energy that supports the expansion of the universe come from? According to this question, modern physics puts forward the concept of dark matter and dark energy. It does not generate electromagnetic waves, cannot be sensed, and cannot be measured. The law of gravity estimates that dark matter and energy account for 96% of the mass of the universe, and the remaining 4% is what humans can now recognize."

"Many unexplainable phenomena are therefore attributed to the results of dark matter, such as meridians in traditional Chinese medicine, the power of the mind, and ghosts. There are many discussions on this field abroad, but it is obviously blocked in China and difficult to find." Yin Zhou spread out his hands.

Lin Yan nodded. This was a bit like a science fiction novel he had read once.

"And the second one?"

"The second type is attributed to electromagnetic waves. The environment in which the deceased died is not conducive to electromagnetic wave attenuation. The powerful thoughts it had before death form a unique energy field. If a person's own frequency is similar to it, it will resonate when they come into contact. The waveform of the original ghost is greatly strengthened so then the two can sense each other."

Lin Yan was stunned: "You mean I. . . resonate with the ghost?"

Yin Zhou said indifferently that it was possible. He turned and smiled mysteriously: "Do you know how to explain love at first sight using electromagnetic fields?"

Lin Yan's heart stuttered.

"It's just resonating. It's the same with both men and women."

Yin Zhou sighed: "I don't want to fall in love for a while. It's boring, it's like a ghost."

The cars finally started moving again, and they finally got off the third road ring after being stuck for three hours. Lin Yan turned on the navigation and stepped on the accelerator to hurry towards the destination.

He always thinks that love was just like a ghost; he didn't believe in either. He only understood the panic and anxiety he felt when he encountered it, but he has never imagined that ghosts were also like love, triggered by a specific reason in a specific environment and dragged forcibly into the abyss, unable to escape.

"Have you been in touch with anything special recently, or have you been to anywhere special?"

Lin Yan thought about it for a moment and shook his head: "No. Every day I'm in the study room, tutor's office, library, home, cafeteria, there's nowhere else. But I have come into a lot of contact with lots of things from several dynasties."

Yin Zhou clumped the pile of information in his hand, and put it into back his backpack despite Lin Yan's contemptuous eyes, and clicked the buckle shut.

"Impossible. The electromagnetic waves would have decayed early in a small object, even if the Maoshan technique was used."

A thought suddenly flashed through Lin Yan's mind.

"There was this one place. . .Last month, my old man arranged an internship position for me on an archaeological team. It was a tomb with small specifications. I was there for less than a week."

Yin Zhou's eyes lit up all of a sudden: "There's this show, we should wait and check it. . . what the fuck!"

Lin Yan slammed on the brakes. Yin Zhou's head slammed into the windshield with a bang, and he wailed in pain.

"What are you doing?! Braking like that is going to kill you. What if we got rear-ended?!"

Lin Yan looked at the empty windshield in shock. He pulled the car over and, when he turned to Yin Zhou, his face changed.

"You. . . didn't see that just now?"

"What!" Yin Zhou took off the glasses that had been knocked off-kilter, trying to push them into their original spot, and couldn't help complaining in grief.

"There was a hand. . . stretching down from the roof of the car."

Yin Zhou was stunned and looked up at the window glass cautiously. A truck came up from behind, went around their car and drove on.

Lin Yan was too scared to speak for a while. He recalled the stiff white hand that had slapped on the windshield from the roof of the car just now, but it disappeared in a blink of an eye. There were speeding trucks or tankers everywhere on the sixth ring road. He opened his mouth and looked at Yin Zhou. The other party understood his thoughts immediately. Yin Zhou took a breath and hesitated: "Then this thing. . . it wants a human life."

Lin Yan shook his head. He always felt that there was some motive behind everything that had happened, but he couldn't say it out loud.

They drove out of the city in a blink of an eye. The endless rows of poplar trees and the green border fields in the suburbs relaxed the tension of the two people in the car a lot. Lin Yan rolled down the car window, and the car air mixed with the fragrance of flowers and plants that poured in. Inside the car, the stuffy scent of the pancakes was blown away.

After the twist and turns the GPS took them on, the car turned onto a rugged path paved with stones. The surrounding buildings were replaced with independent bungalows and small farmyards. A yellow dog squatted on the steps and stretched its neck. Some hens gathered in groups lazily together. Every now and again, they passed by a white goose on the side of the road. Lin Yan slowed down and stared at the map displayed on the GPS. He glanced at Yin Zhou distrustfully.

"If I keep going, I'll have to turn around to go back to the village. Did your mother send us to a reclusive expert?"

Yin Zhou leaned over to study the map, then turned his head in confusion and looked out the window. He happened to pass by a house, a yellow mud bungalow, with a faded couplet on the door. The old man in front of it only lost two front teeth, and he was leaning back to watch the excitement. . Yin Zhou scratched his scalp suspiciously: "The address my mother gave is at the end of the village, and she said it was amazing. Let me buy some tributes to bring with me. I can't do it alone."

So Lin Yan stopped the car when passing by the market, and bought two gifts according to Yin Zhou's suggestion. . . that bastard.

"Are you sure about all this?" Lin Yan looked embarrassedly left and right, carrying a live turtle in one hand and walking back, Yin Zhou happily pointed at the turtle's head and said, "What do you know? , These kinds of psychic masters rely on this stuff to keep up with their lifestyle. Trust me."

Lin Yan threw the two bastards into the trunk, took out a bottle of mineral water and handed it to Yin Zhou. He also opened a bottle for himself and took a few sips.

The country cicadas cried one after another, and the green wheat was headed; it was a wonderful scene of peace and prosperity.

Several children wearing red and green were squatting on the ground playing fan cards not far away. Lin Yan asked Yin Zhou: "What did your mother saw that name of the expert was? I'll ask around."

He couldn't help but imagine a scene of a bamboo hut with a mantle drooping in front of the porch. An old man in white with his hand stroked his beard and smiled slightly. He and Yin Zhou knelt forward on one knee, clasping their fists and begging, "Master, please guide me!"

Yin Zhou took a note from his pocket. He squinted at it, and said perplexedly: "Second Immortal Gu."

Before Lin Yan had enough time to swallow, all the water was spat back out.

"Ahem. . . is that so?"

In a small courtyard in the northeast corner of the village, Lin Yan and Yin Zhou found the legendary Second Immortal Gu’s house. When Lin Yan saw Second Immortal Gu's respectable face from outside the door, the regret in his heart was like torrential rapids. There was an enclave in an empty black room; he didn't know which god was being worshipped. An old woman in blue flower cloth sat cross-legged on the futon with her eyes closed and rests her mind. The red cloth strip that was tied to her forehead was quite imposing.

"This posture rivals some of the best dancers out there!" Yin Zhou pointed at the scene inside and couldn't help muttering softly.

"Come on, this is who your mother mentioned. Be respectful." Lin Yan said embarrassedly.

"What should we do?"

"Let's take a look first. Maybe the real person hasn't shown up."

Lin Yan and Yin Zhou walked through the door. Hearing the movement, the immortal woman lifted her eyelids slightly, and hummed from her nose aimlessly.

"Oh, ahem. . ." Yin Zhou couldn't hold back his grin and quickly concealed it with a cough.

What happened later was a farce. After receiving the turtle and two hundred yuan brought by Lin Yan, the woman suddenly became energetic. She worshipped the gods with incense and poured a bowl of clear water on Lin Yan while muttering words. After turning around Lin Yan more than ten times, she finally opened his eyes sharply. Lin Yan was so frightened by her that his body was shocked. The only thing she did was shout: "Aha! I saw it!"

"There is a little girl standing behind you!"

Lin Yan and Yin Zhou looked at each other, each holding their breaths.

"Oh, this baby girl died terribly. She said that she was locked up and could not be born. She didn't have money to buy clothes, and she didn't have money to pay her way through death. That's why she's gotten involved with you. . ."

"Wait, I'll ask her how to resolve this. . ."

The immortal woman closed her eyes and began to sing. Lin Yan pointed at the door to Yin Zhou and said: "Do you need someone to grease your feet, what are you waiting for?"

After reciting a long list of words, she opened her eyes and saw that there were no longer two other people in the room.

The immortal woman had no choice but to touch the newly collected two hundred yuan and shook her head, muttering that the young people nowadays are really impatient. Then she staggered around to pack her things up.

When she picked up the bastard turtle, she couldn't help but give a long sigh.

[fire-emblem-drabbles]

7 with m!Robin for the yan prompts??

Pairing: M Robin x reader

Prompt: “You told me you loved me, you can’t take that back!”

Description: All nightmares had to end eventually, right? Why was it that this one seem so neverending?

Rating: sfw

Word Count: 1135

Notes: I had like 300ish words as a wip for this for like... god months I’ve had this wip for forever... anyways, it sucked, so I completely rewrote everything and I like this much better!

________________________________________________________

Being with Robin could only be described as a dream; he was a powerful man, adept with both magic and the blade, was a genius tactician (one who you often counted on to help you lead your own army), kind to his allies and honest to goodness, the sweetest man you ever met. It was all so perfect for a while, you couldn’t imagine a life with him. But… slowly he changed. Your dream man soon became a nightmare, one you couldn’t wake yourself from.

He used his wit against you, making you a puppet in your own army claiming it was all “to protect you.” Lest you try and bond with your heroes he was there, ready to drag you away or claim some excuse to get you away from other people. He became overbearingly clingy, hesitant to even leave you to use the restroom in peace! You feared one day he may not even let you leave your shared bedroom, it had become so ridiculous. You missed the man he was, and more than once, begged him to reconsider what he had become.

Still, even in this nightmaresque life, you had your solace; moments where you could forget the monster that seemed to take over your partner. Those days where he was himself again, lovingly teasing you about tactics, making sure you go enough to eat and drink and plenty of rest. It was almost enough to make you reconsider leaving but not a moment later his antics would begin anew. It was childish, frustrating, and sad; you didn’t want things to end like this…

“…._____? What are you up to?” Curious, Robin watched as you pointedly gathered things seemingly at random, shoving them in a box near the door haphazardly.

“What does it look like?” You snapped at him, face full of frowns. “I’m leaving.” You stated simply after, rather gently tossing in a book of tactics compared to some other things you had thrown in previously. It had been a gift from Robin long before he took a turn for the worse…

“Leaving?” He repeated quietly, as if he didn’t quite believe the words. Diligently still, you were packing away what little things you had in your once shared room.

“Robin… listen.” You said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed, on the other side of him. “I… use to adore you, love you so much even. Lately though… the phrase has left a bad taste in my mouth.” You frowned, not liking the look of sadness that crossed his features. “I wanted this to work between us, I really did. But lately you’ve been making it frustrating to be with you, for no other reason than petty jealousy.” A lump was forming in your throat as you said the words that had been hanging on your tongue for so long now. How dearly you wanted to love him, and wanted his love in return. But not like this.

“You… you said you loved me though, you can’t just take that back.” You tensed, realizing he was beginning to panic a little bit at your own words.

“Did you even hear me you idiot? I’m not taking it back, I still love you so much!” You cried, your own dam breaking. “But I hate who you’ve become! I miss the man I fell in love with!” Your sudden outburst surprised Robin but he was trying so hard to stay calm. “Please, what happened to him, Robin?” You said softly, cradling yourself now.

“He’s right here,” His voice broke a little, tears threatening his own eyes. His hands reached out for yours but your kept them close to yourself. “I… I know I’ve been acting out. And I’m so sorry for it.” Robin sniffled, realizing just what was happening. Remembering just who he was… what he was cursed with.

“Unfortunately, I have to accept… the fell dragon is apart of me...” He sighed and closed his eyes. “Being here, with Grima walking these halls… has undoubtedly had an effect on me. I’m so sorry if it caused you grief.” Suddenly, your face softened. What a fool you had been. Too lost in your own feelings and hurt, you never thought about what even caused Robin to act this way…

“Robin I...” You tears fell freely as you looked upon him, sad smile and all. “Please, forgive me for being so.. so dumb.” You sighed, shaking your head. “I should have guessed this from the start...” You shook your head.

“No, you have every right to be mad. My behavior lately has been terrible,” He let out a bitter laugh. “I’m sorry _____ my love for you… does indeed make me weaker. When I think about how much I love you, how I adore you and want to cherish you… I get scared. Parts of me I don’t want to acknowledge take over and cause us all grief...” He sighed. You scooted closer to him, pulling Robin to you in order to hold him.

“That’s okay, together… we can get through this.” You whispered, you fingers playing with the fabric of his cloak.

“What if… I can never truly escape this side of me? What if I don’t stop becoming this uglier version of myself?” He whispered. It scared you as well, hearing the genuine fear in his voice.

“Well… I suppose then I’ll have to accept that then. Ugly though it may be… that jealous, possessive and mean part of you is a part of you all the same… and I supposed indulging it occasionally can’t be too terrible...” You mused.

“Truly you are too good too me.” Robin turned in your arms, pulling in down and into his embrace on the bed so he could hold your properly, your head close enough to his chest to here his heartbeat.

“I told you I loved you didn’t I? Loving someone means you help them deal with some of the more unsavory parts of themselves… through thick and thin, you know?” You looked up to smile at him.

“I love you too… So much so, I find it hard to share you at times. Can we not just stay in our own little word in this room, where I can keep you safe?” You could swear he was nearly purring in content in having you in his arms.

“...For now, we can.” You laughed, snuggling closer to him. “As long as you promise to let me return to my duties?” You opened one eye, looking to his face for a response.

“We shall see about that...” He kissed the top of your head as if to end the conversation. You didn’t wish to fight it so you let him be, closing both your eyes once more to simply enjoy being with him.

[purplexflamingo]

For the ask post: „it’s breaking my heart to see you like this“

I really have been wanting to explore Prison! Ozai escaping with Kimba AU. So have a small thing! ///

  Several days had passed and the stress continued to build after their big escape. While she was happy to have Ozai at her side again, it was just a struggle dealing with his range of behaviors. Recently he had finally spoken up about his injury, in his shoulder, that he tried so hard to ignore and wouldn't allow her to seek ways of mending it, for some unknown reasons. Getting him to rest was out of the question as well. If she dare bring it up, she will never hear the end of his bickering. Yet she was left to hear him ache in pain at night and it did not sit well with her. Out of respect she often did not press matters and never discussed or would bend before him as she knew he was still attempting to deal with living his live without bending. For some reason she just knew he was still broken about it, As well as the fact he was now weaker than ever before. They now temporarily lived on a farm belonging to Kimba's old friend, Fei. They both were wanted by the current Fire Lord Zuko, with an outstanding reward. Fei never seemed to dare to turn them in and Kimba has never been more grateful for her friend's loyalty. She was making sure to repay her and Ozai started to help out around the farm. He was focusing on rebuilding his strength anyways and once he sets his mind to it you really can not deter him from it.

 Returning home Kimba and Fei carried baskets obtaining many different items from the market place. Otherwise most of their food would come from the ever growing farm. It really reminded Kimba of home as she grew up on land just like this and she was used to pulling her own weight. It was a challenge that kept her busy. To be honest she just was never cut out for the palace life. While it was great to be pampered, she missed routes. It was also nice to have her best friend back and she spent most of her days alone. Aside from Ozai's company. Much like Kimba, Fei gave up her life for her husband and the farm. Fei was happy of course, she loved Yan with all her heart and she choose this over her life of luxury. Love surely was a powerful thing. 

 Fei rambled the whole way, but it never truly bothered her, she listened up until she glanced away. There she spotted Ozai in the field with Yan. Assuming Yan had no choice, but let him. Unfortunately Fei's husband did not have a back bone and could never bring himself to tell Ozai otherwise. Needless to say he was little threatened by both Kimba and Ozai at first, but he allowed them on his property. Yet there he was being so stubborn carrying a rather large barrel across the field. For a moment he appeared to be fine until he let out a rather loud growl. Setting her basket down she hurried over to him. Fei was kind enough to collect Kimba's things.

 "Ozai, be careful...!" Softly she lectured him and he shot her an annoyed look, masking his pain. " I am fine." He sounded so bitter. Causing her to roll her eyes as he continued to deny it. " You'll never heal properly if you don't--" Instantly he cut her off. " I don't want to hear it every single day! I said I'm fine. Get away from me. You've done nothing but nag at me ever since we got here. Leave me alone! I can't stand your voice. I can't stand YOU!" This time he went off on her leaving her rather stunned. Closing her mouth as he gave his final glare before carrying on. Her brows curved upwards, but she blankly just blinked. Without another word she turned around and walked back to her friend. Fei showed great concern as she heard exactly what he said to her.  Placing a comforting hand on Kimba's shoulder. " I am sure he didn't mean it..." She couldn't even bring herself to speak to Fei, but Fei understood. Carrying on to put away the new items and go able preparing dinner, it served as a decent distraction. Silent the whole time she avoided glancing outside as she really did not want to watch him suffer. Upon chopping various vegetables, her mind wondered, replaying those exact words over and over. I can't stand you. It hurt more than she cared to admit. Lowering her head as she tried to stay focus on work. She was a mixture of frustration and gloom.

 Suddenly she was struck with a sharp pain, she cut her finger with the blade by accident. Fei noticed and she took Kimba's wrist. " Don't worry, this will be easy to clean. It's not too deep." From that moment she kind of phased out and just gone through the motions. Come dinner time, they all sat together. Ozai definitely did not appear to look well, but he still continued to push through. Kimba on the other hand did not seem to be there mentally. Fei noticed and she wanted nothing more than to change the mood of the room. " Yan and I appreciate all the help you've been, Ozai."  Starting off the conversation. " It's the least I can do." Ozai was kind of short with his responses most of the time. 

" You know, Kimba prepared this whole meal herself, it's lovely is it not?" Attempting to get her quiet friend engaged in the conversation. He just grunted and gave a very faint nod.  Kimba still had her head low, something within her urged her to speak and this was not like her. " Don't mention me, remember he CAN'T stand ME." There was strong emotion behind those words and she hoped for once to convey her pain as she began to explode. Ozai shot her a glance and rose a brow, almost offended. " Well--" Before he could speak she slammed her fists on the table causing Fei to flinch. Hunched over, as she couldn't bring herself to look at him, not now. Gritting her teeth. " I am sorry I care about you. Maybe it's a mistake. But it really actually breaks my heart to see you in so much pain and I can't do anything to help because YOU keep pushing me away. Yet you proceed to make me feel like my feelings for you are just an absolute burden to you!" Right then and there she got up from the table storming off outside just so he couldn't have the last word. Yan and Fei both looked at each other, they were clearly uncomfortable at this point and knew these two had so much to sort out. Though their eyes snaked over to Ozai who looked colder than ever before. He closed his eyes for a moment and released a sigh through his nostrils. Then he calmly stood up and followed minutes later after.

 Kimba marched off through the farm, but soon halted and kicked the ground rather hard. Soon looking up at the night sky before collapsing on her knees where she finally began to crack. Sobbing loudly as she pressed the palm of her hands against the sides of her face. Easily she could just scream. She was tired of the years of pain and it finally reach a certain point. " I can't take it anymore!" Shouting out loud into the air. Face flushing a bright red now stained with tears. Breathing hitched up leaving her feeling light headed as her head throbbed. She now began to tremble from the intensity of it all. Never expecting now to be her breaking point and she realized she really didn't care that she went off on him. All she wanted was a break and appreciation, love. It was her idea to break him out and she always stood by his side. What did she do wrong this time? What even did she do wrong the first time? Here she thought he felt differently about her, but knowing he couldn't stand her made her feel rather ill and weak. It was a nightmare and she felt herself crack into a million pieces all over again. Opening old wounds from her very first heart break. It hurt so badly. Did he enjoy hurting her? Why does everyone she love hurt her? Why was she so stupid to believe he could ever care about her the way she cared about him? 

 Fingers now dug into soil as she leaned forward causing her tears to the soak the ground beneath her. The shivering then continued. A hand met with her back and it alarmed her. It was probably Fei, she was always the one to come chasing and comfort her. " I can't.....Fei leave me alone, please. I just need a moment." Shaking her head she was panting between her weak words. Disgusted with herself for making such a scene in front of the people who so kindly let them stay. Suddenly arms coiled around her and tightly, from behind. Looking down at the arms she knew it was not Fei. She felt her heart beat even quicker than before. Taking her breath away and leaving her mouth so dry. She knew it was Ozai at that point and she wondered how long he had been there. He pressed the side of his face against her head as he continued to hold her tight. Again she began to just sob and she fought against him, but was too weak to prevail. " No, no you don't love me! let go of me. You never loved me!" Crying out loud, but he still held her so tight. He was never one for emotional words, but the gesture meant something more as he stayed put on the ground with her. " Why...just why?" Her voice was nearly gone at this point as she weakly attempted to push away from him once more. Eventually tiring herself out and she leaned back against him. Panting for air. From there he pressed his lips against her temple. He was in pain in his upper shoulder, but he ignored it just to be there for her. It took him awhile to muster up his words, but he soon whispered into her ear. " I am sorry, I never meant to hurt you. Please don’t leave me.." Right then and there she began to calm down.

[inkribbon796]

Live from Downtown

Written for Bim’s birthday, in the Superhero AU this is his first real public appearance.

Summary: It’s Bim’s 21st birthday. So he spends the day with some of his favorite people and has a bit of a night on the town.

Chapter 1: I Don’t Wanna Lift Crates

    “Cut!” the director called after the “On Air” sign turned off. Bim smiled as he walked off set towards Dark who was sitting in a chair just behind the cameras. The producer for most of the shows that ran on the same network that Wilford was on.

    Bim had turned to watch Matthias walk away, his eyes almost sparking in hungry, a rather carnivorous smile on Bim’s face.

    “What do you think?” the director asked, looking back at Dark and the producer.

    “Well, no one’s dead,” the Producer groaned dryly.

    “That’s the point,” Dark stood up. “Good job, Trimmer, you should be proud of yourself.”

    “Really?” Bim tearing his eyes away from Matthias to smile at Dark. “Thanks.”

    Dark looked over at Matthias, “Can you control yourself?”

    “Hmmm,” Bim looked over as Matthias left.

    Dark snapped his fingers several times close to Bim’s face, “Focus. Nothing is happening to him.”

    “Right,” Bim looked like he was about to start grinding his teeth.

    “Repeat it,” Dark ordered coldly.

    “Fine,” Bim rolled his eyes. “Nothing’s happening to him.”

    “Good,” Dark began to walk away, motioning for Bim to follow. “Last thing I need is for the city to start investigating you and find the people on your show are turning up dead.”

    “Isn’t that the point?” Bim raised an eyebrow. “To feed people through a meat grinder?”

    “Not on camera,” Dark smiled at him. “Anyways, Wil and I have a couple gifts for you.”

    “I thought the show was my birthday gift?” Bim asked, already getting excited. “What am I getting?”

    “Patience, Junior,” Wil appeared behind Dark, slinging an arm around the entity’s waist. He pulled a small wrapped box out of the Void. “Here’s mine, I noticed your old one was looking a little rough around the edges.”

    Bim took the box as the set director called out, “Warfstache to set!”

    “Oh, that’s my cue, see you later tonight, boys,” Wilford smiled, the set behind them had been set up to look like his typical interview set. The reporter gave Dark a kiss on the cheek which earned him a small smile from Dark. As Wilford passed Bim he ruffled his hair, getting a distasteful eye roll from Dark and a fond smile from Bim.

    “Let’s go, Bim,” Dark told him. “The next show’s about to come on.”

    Bim looked back at Wil who was already starting a rather cheerful argument with the director. “Can’t I stay? It’s my birthday.”

    Dark was quiet for a bit, and for a moment Bim hopes this was one of the times where Dark caved and just gave him what he wanted.

    “I don’t trust Wil on this set,” Dark denied. “He’s shot at me once and I was standing behind the camera crew. Wil has shown a complete lack of awareness on this set and I do not want you shot and killed.”

    “He wouldn’t,” Bim defended heatedly, clutching the box closer to him.

    “Maybe when you’re better equipped to defend yourself,” Dark answered. “But you’re right, Wil would never knowingly shoot or hurt you. He adores you, Sunshine.”

    A question burned on Bim’s tongue, but he didn’t ask it.

    “Let’s go,” Dark told him, walking towards the doors. “A live set isn’t the place to hold a conversation.”

    “Yeah, sure,” Bim took his time to open his gift, revealing a hunting knife with a curved notch at the tip of the blade, the metal Damascus steel.

    “Thanks,” Bim called back to Wil.

    Wilford smiled at him, waving over to him before his attention was pulled away. Bim followed Dark before the greyscaled entity could pull him away.

    “What do you think?” Bim smiled as they entered the dressing room.

    “Dad’s got good taste,” Bim smiled, examining the blade a little closer.

    Quietly that door opened and Bim looked up to see a guy who looked like Indiana Jones walked in. Dark smiled, “Ahh, right on time.”

    “Hey, Disco Ball,” Illinois smiled as he walked over.

    Bim froze, staring at him in confusion and surprise before he slowly started to recognize the person speaking to him, putting the knife back in its sheath. “Illy? You’re alive?”

    “Hey, I know you’re eager to kick us all out of the nest, but come on,” Illinois smiled, walking over with a hand on his belt.

    Bim paced around him, his smile getting wider, “You got out of wearing the suits too?”

    “Only off the clock,” Illinois smiled.

    Bim lunged and Illinois stepped out of the way, Dark was already braced with a portal that opened to safely let Bim crash into the backyard of the Manor, instead of all the equipment in the dressing room. Illinois jumped through the portal to land on Bim the first chance he got.

    “No fair,” Bim argued as they tumbled around on the line, Dark stepping out of the Void and trying to pull as much of his grayscale effect and ringing as he possibly could. The entity just watching the two of them wrestling with a fond look on his face, more and more of what had once upon a time, been an actual backyard looked like it was supposed to.

    “Maybe you should have thought of that before,” Illinois shot back, the two wrestling around on the ground.

    Yan came from deeper in the Void to stand beside Dark. She screamed and charged at Illinois, knocking him off Bim. “Don’t worry, I got him.”

    “You traitor!” Illinois choked out as Bim jumped on him as well.

    Dark watched them for a bit before pulling Bim off his siblings, “Alright, that’s enough.”

    Illinois rolled away from Yan before she could accidentally claw him in the face. “Come on,” Illinois grumbled. “I never get to see ‘em.”

    “You’ll have most of the night,” Dark promised. “Bim, Anti will be coming for you soon.”

    Bim let out an audible gasp of joy, “What did he bribe you with to let me go?”

    “Anti and I have certain understandings,” Dark admitted. “That understanding was if Anti was going to keep pestering me about it I was going to rip his spine out of his back.”

    “Didn’t work, huh?” Bim kept smiling.

    Dark groaned, “I hate him.”

    “More or less than Mark?” Bim dared.

    Everything went deadly quiet.

    Yan and Illinois took an uneasily step away from Bim as Dark just stared at him, the world graying out and the ringing got worse.

    For what it was worth, Bim realized what a colossal mistake he’d made the instant that name left his mouth. But didn’t dare make it look like he was anything more than nervous.

    “What was that?” Dark reached out and began straightening Bim’s tie, as if he suddenly needed to have his hands doing something.

    “I, uh,” Bim choked on his own throat coughing. His tie wasn’t tight, but the uneasily atmosphere didn’t easy the young man’s nervousness.

    “Sunshine,” Dark warned, Dark let go of Bim’s tie and setting his hands on his shoulders. “If you expect to ever set foot outside your room again, you will never mention that name again. Am I clear?”

    “Crystal,” Bim smiled.

    “Good,” Dark smiled back.

    “Hey, geezer,” Anti announced as he broke through the Void. “You—”

    The glitch demon paused as he looked at Bim. He’d already been carrying a knife when he walked in, but he used it to point at Bim. “Uhh, ye grounded, kid?”

    “No,” Dark turned away. “If I see him on the nightly news; however, he will be.”

    “Yah know, I’ve decided ‘ta nickname my soul splitter “Little Anti”, an’ he loves ye.”

    “You have nothing to threaten me with,” Dark reminded him. “It’s an inconvenience and I can always keep Bim home.”

    “If old age make yah grumpy an’ boring, someone needs ‘ta exercise me before I get half as old and decrepit as you,” Anti insulted. “How Wilf puts up with ye is beyond me.”

    “I have standards,” Dark reminded coldly, then turned and gave Bim a slight smile. “Have fun Bim.”

    “Thanks,” Bim smiled at Dark, this time his smile was a little more genuine. “Have fun doing whatever the hell you do when I’m not around.”

    “Enjoy your evening,” Dark said as Anti pulled Bim through the portal and back into the dark Egoton streets.

NEXT =>

[musical-in-theory]

Legion’s Wrath Pt. 2

(You know that thing I was talking about earlier? Here it is!! This is based off of an animatic from @missksketch which if you haven’t, please go check her blog out! She is such a sweet and amazing person and makes awesome art! The animatic was based off of the stories written by @reverseblackholeofwords who is also super sweet and please please please go read her stuff right now if you haven’t yet. I’m really proud of this! Enjoy!)

The rippling black gave way to bright sunlight and numerous colors. Once Legion was all the way through the Actor’s portal, they had to shield their eyes until they could adjust to the sudden change. They looked around at their surroundings to find that they had been dropped into the greenhouse of Ego Inc. Plants of every species filled the area and emitted a pleasant aroma that wafted across Legion’s nose. They were back. They were finally, finally back.

But it appeared that they weren’t alone. Behind them, Oliver poked his head up from behind a row of sunflowers that he’d been attending to. “Legion? Legion! Oh my circuits! We were all so worried!” Ollie started to run over to them with his arms outstretched about to tackle them in the biggest hug, but he froze in his tracks as Legion turned around with a devious smile plastered on their face.

“L-Legion?” he stuttered cautiously, “Why do you have that? I thought Phantom destroyed it. How-” Oliver was cut off as Legion dashed behind him. He turned his head to follow where they went, but it wasn’t fast enough to stop them from cutting off the heads of his sunflowers and begin tipping various pots to the ground.

“Legion, no! Stop this, please! Please fight this. I know you can!” Ollie pleaded. 

Legion rushed over to the elevator leading to the rest of the building, but before they entered it they looked back over their shoulder and stared down the android. “I suppose I could… but why would I want to?” They laughed as they entered the elevator, and the doors shut behind them.

Ollie quickly picked up his phone and rattled as he dialed the number of the man he thought would be best to fix this mess. “Hello, Phantom? We’ve got a big problem.”

Legion skipped through the halls of the place they had began to call home before they were whisked away to the Void. They manifested a knife and let it drag against the walls behind them. They made sure that anything that they came across that was even remotely breakable was shattered on the ground before they moved on. Legion laughed at the thought of how ironically similar they were to a mirror. They reflected how broken they felt in the destruction laying around them. 

They sang lightly as they went, “I wanna watch the world burn. I’ve got the gasoline…” Legion giggled a bit at the image of the whole place going up in flames. After all, what was one more similarity to the Retroverse? Yan would be proud. Unfortunately before they could conjure up a set of matches, a door opened in front of them, drawing them out of their thoughts.

Legion hadn’t realized that they’d wandered a little too close to the common room. They’re mistake last time had been getting too close to people who could stop them. They’d gone down without much of a fight. Well like they had told the Actor, they weren’t about to make the same mistake twice. Two figures walked out of the Iplier door, and nearly all of the fight left Legion. It was the Host and Natemare. 

The pair locked eyes with Legion, and for a moment they looked like deer in headlights. Legion could almost hear the word “how?” running through their heads. A smirk made its way onto their face as they turned completely to face what used to be their family. “Well, well, well. What do we have here? Our own little welcoming party? How kind.” Legion narrowed their eyes at the duo. 

Had they looked a little closer, they would have seen how gaunt the Host looked. Dried blood ran like tear tracks down his cheeks. Every single button on his trench coat was gone, and the skin on his face looked sunken and hollow. He looked so tired and worn… and at the end of his rope. Mare looked a bit better by comparison but not by much. His red rimmed eyes had company in the form of the dark circles underneath which looked more like bruises. His hair stuck out in every direction like he’d been pulling at it for hours. Flecks of broken guitar littered his clothes, and his skin was about as pale as his puppet mask. Had they looked just a bit closer, they would’ve seen how different they appeared compared to how Legion saw them last in the mirror, but masks have a knack for causing tunnel vision.

“Legion?” Mare practically breathed out the name. The sight of his little sibling had knocked the wind out of him. He couldn’t count how many times he’d had dreams about Legion finding their way back to him or how many times those same dreams turned to nightmares. He couldn’t take his eyes off of them, but he knew the Host was feeling the same way.

Legion’s smile grew wider at them, but it looked all wrong. It was harsh and cold and psychotic. “Kid…?” Mare didn’t dare blink, afraid that if he did then Legion would disappear once more. “Something’s wrong.” Mare desperately wanted them to say something, anything. He wanted them to laugh and drop the act, to hug him and assure him that they were here to stay. But they didn’t. They just kept staring at him and Host with piercing eyes through the… “The mask?”

“Oh so you noticed? Yeah, we were getting a bit bored in the pit of despair that you left us in. So we thought a bit of accessorizing might spice things up a bit.” They laughed, but it was a broken, layered, distorted thing. It sounded like a thousand glitches in a thousand volumes. “Not that you truly care. This was your perfect opportunity to go back to your perfect little families and leave us in the dust. Well turns out, we have our own little family to fall back on too. One that knows how to actually have fun.”

Host let out a little gasp once he read in between the lines. “The Actor,” he whispered. 

“No. L-legion! Snap out of it kiddo… You don’t want to do this. This isn’t you!” Mare stepped forward with his hands held out in a placating fashion. At first it appeared like his pleading had actually gotten through to them. Their plastered smirk fell from their face, and their eyes had taken on a far-away sort of look. However, that was only on the surface.

Legion could feel a set of hands laid on their shoulders. A comforting whisper brushed across their ear, “You know what you need to do. They don’t deserve your mercy. No one does, my dears.” As quick as his presence appeared, the Actor retreated, and Legion’s resolve cemented. Their eyes focused back on the two egos in front of them.

They threw out their hand to the side in a flourish and concentrated on conjuring what they needed. Soon their cloak draped across their shoulders and the firm wood of their scythe dug into their palm. “Tell us, big brother,” they spat venomously, “still think we need some puppet to protect us?” Before Mare had any time to respond, Legion raced forward, brandishing their weapon.

They sprinted straight for Mare. His eyes widened as his mind tried to play catch up. He barely jumped out of the way in time to miss getting slashed to bits by their scythe. He felt the wind rush by him from its path. Nothing was making sense. This couldn’t be Legion. They would never fall for the Actor’s tricks, and yet here they were, attacking the people they cared about all in the name of his stupid script.

Mare tried to retaliate or at least immobilize them in some way, but they had moved on to take a swipe at Host. The blind man deftly stepped out of the scythe’s arc, but again it had missed only by a narrow margin. Mare could see Host’s mouth moving. He was trying to use his narrations, but as Legion kept fighting, his words kept getting interrupted. 

“Please, Legion,” Host pleaded. Legion’s smirk grew into a devilish smile as they heard the break in Hosts voice. “Legion needs to stop. They need to come back to their family.” Legion’s smile faltered for just a second. Mare could see and Host could feel the pure rage and hatred that lied behind it. Within Legion’s eyes they could sense the darkness that had surrounded, had invaded Legion for the entire month they spent within the Void.

“Oh so now you want to be a family,” they chuckled darkly, “Let us offer you a bit of advice. The next time you want to leave someone to the mercy of the Void, make sure they can’t get out.” With that they let out a high-pitched, deranged laugh, somewhat resembling what Anti’s used to be, corruption laced within every second of it.

Legion jumped back, away from the Host and Mare. They could feel the narrations tugging at them. It made their scythe feel heavier and caused their body to sag just the slightest bit, but all it really was was a fruitless attempt that worked only to drain the Host of his energy. They laughed again and raised their weapon as they eyed their prey, waiting for their perfect opening.

The Host could see Legion’s analytic stare. As much as they liked to call themselves a being of chaos, Host knew that they could be just as smart and tactical as Darkiplier when they wanted to be. He couldn’t let this go on for much longer, or Legion would win and he’d lose his child to the Actor’s darkness forever. He turned his head to Mare and shouted, “Go get help. The Host will hold them off.” 

Mare looked at Legion once more and then back at the Host. He steeled his nerves before nodding. “Right.” The nightmare dissolved into fear smoke. He tried to will the tiniest bit of it to drift towards Legion, hoping that it might snap them out of their forced bloodlust, but he couldn’t concentrate hard enough to make it happen. It took everything he had to keep form and fly away to get help.

A whirring noise behind him caught his attention. He snapped his head around in time to the spinning blade of Legion’s scythe headed at him. The weapon buried itself into the ground next to him. It missed. Some part of Mare hoped upon hope that maybe Legion missed on purpose, that some sliver of their best friend was still in there fighting to break free and save them. Mare looked away from the scythe and at Legion to see them with their arm still extended from the throw. They stood up and laughed at his scared expression. The sound obliterated Mare’s hopes and danced on its ashes. His heart squeezed with pain and guilt.

Legion moved forward is if to go in for another attack, but they were stopped by a normally reserved voice shouting with more force than they had ever heard. “LEGION!” They turn to face the voice only to find the Host behind them. His hands held a slight tremor. Legion couldn’t tell if that was from the stress of his mistakes coming back to haunt him or perhaps something else. They hoped it was the former. They stared him down with as much heat as they could muster, but Host wouldn’t back down.

“Legion must fight the Actor! They must take off the mask!” the Host poured as much of his power into his narrations as he could. This wasn’t like fighting against the power of the other egos. This was his power versus the dark influence of the Void that had already taken hold of so many. His voice tapered off as he added, “They come home. The Hos- I need you home.”

At first it seemed like the Host’s power had broken through to Legion. They stopped their advance, and their expression melted away into something blank. It left an opening for Mare to finally make his escape. Host moved cautiously to check on Legion until he noticed them starting to vibrate. The shaking increased slowly before it crescendoed and ripped a scream from Legion’s throat. 

For all that Legion had split themselves into copies, they hadn’t ever felt this before. They were a rope in the middle of a vicious tug of war game that they didn’t know was going on. The Host’s commands were strong, and Legion knew that they wouldn’t be able to stave them off for much longer, especially when it felt like part of them wanted to dive head first into that traitor’s arms. The mask was powerful as well, however. Its overwhelming influence did its best to block out as much of the Host’s words as it could. Chaos was woven into everything Legion was, but the two powers made it seem like they were being tossed around by waves in a storm.

“Control, Legion. You need to take back control. The Host is trying to revert you back to the villain who did everything for their so-called family only to receive nothing in return. Don’t let him succeed. He’s causing you to fall, and it’s not fair, is it? But when has what is and isn’t fair ever stopped you? Finish this.” The Actor’s voice cut through all of the other voices in their head, and a bit of clarity had made its way through the sea of confusion churning within. 

However the numerous souls wouldn’t stay quiet for long. The noisy opinions came back with a vengeance. Each one shouted over the others to make themselves heard. They raised their hands to their head and pushed against their skull. If they could just keep themselves together, if they could just do as the Actor said, then maybe finally they could stop hurting. They just wanted to stop all the pain. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. The pressure kept building up until it had nowhere left to go but over the edge.

Legion’s eyes searched sporadically around the room until they landed on the Host. Red covered their vision as they saw his concerned face. He caused this. It was his fault! Before Legion could fully comprehend what was going on, they launched themselves at their former father figure in a blind rage. 

The Host tried to call out to Legion, but his voice was failing him. They stood triumphantly over him, looking ready to kill. “We’d say it’s been fun, but lying isn’t very heroic. Goodbye, Host.” They held out their hand to call for their scythe once more. Suddenly what looked like a blast of blood red fire crashed into Legion’s temple. 

The amalgamation of souls was out cold before they even hit the floor. A clattering sound nearby their body caught the Host’s attention. The mask had skidded pathetically across the wooden floor. “Phantom walks over to the Host and offers him the other end of the cane. The Host accepts it and is pulled to his feet.” Host couldn’t mumble his narrations fast enough before he rushed over to Legion. A small bruise was fast forming at their temple where the blast had struck them.

“Legion is okay. Legion is back. Legion is safe. Legion is okay. Legion is back. Legion is safe.” Host continues to mumble the small mantra over and over, cradling the chaotic being in his arms, just as he had when the Actor had first tried to come and take them from him. “I’m here, Legion. And I won’t let go of you ever again.” Tears slipped past their eyelids, but otherwise they didn’t stir. Host could only tell they were alive by the shallow rise and fall of their chest.

Nearby Mare emerged from his smoke to stand beside Phantom. The demon was still gripping his staff which had red smoke still wafting out from it. Mare looked cautiously between both the mask and his little sibling. “Are they going to be-” Phantom lifted his hand and cut off the rest of the sentence. He sauntered over to the mask and picked it up. With a flash the accursed item became trapped in one of his glass bubbles. He made a silent vow to release it later out of Legion’s sight to destroy it once and for all and perhaps dance on its ashes.

Phantom turned back to face his little brother and sighed, “I suppose that depends on whether or not they feel they deserve to be okay.“ He walked back over to Mare, whose eyes had begun to shine with an unmistakable mistiness. The demon placed a hand on his little brother’s shoulder. “But so long as they’ve got their family beside them to remind them of who they are and what they’re worth, I’m sure they’ll be just fine.”

(Thanks so much for reading!! This took a fairly long time, but I’m really happy with how it turned out! I��d love to hear what you guys think of it. ‘Til next time!)

[ddarker-dreams]

Icy Wind. Yan Alucard x Reader

Warnings: Isolation and typical yandere elements. Word count: 1.3k. Note: this is my secret santa gift for @monstrouslyobsessed​!! i was excited to see that you liked hellsing ultimate... your taste is immaculate... anyways, i really hope that you enjoy your gift! <333333

You long for a fulfilling night of sleep.

To be able and close your eyes when the moon shines above, uninhibited by troubles, no longer plagued by all-consuming anxiety. It is but a simple request, you believe. There were days where for hours on end you’d bargain for more than that. Freedom used to be the primary objective, what you believed to be your only salvation, a possibility never within reach. No longer do you aim for the stars and beyond. You’ve had to settle for what’s in front of you, a realistic goal such as a good night’s rest, and even then you’re denied it. 

Blades of grass brush against your bare feet, a winter chill reducing your body to a shivering mess. Teeth chattering and body bunched over, your arms wrap around your torso in a pitiful attempt to preserve heat. It makes logical sense to return inside the manor. At least then you could sit by the fireplace to ward off the cold. Whether it’s foolishness or out of malice towards him, you’ve elected to stay out here, holding nothing but contempt for the mansion walls that serve as your prison.

Another gust of wind whistles by, biting your flushed cheeks. Barren tree branches, overgrown thickets, and dry leaves rustle underneath the wind’s intensity. Maybe it would be best to go back inside, you consider. Still, the thought of proving Alucard right is too strong a blow to your pride to concede yet. It’s a childish thing you’re doing -- even you can acknowledge that -- but what else do you have, other than to spite your captor? 

He had instigated this. Tempting you by temporarily removing the locks in the rickety mansion that you’ve been forced to occupy. What had started as a late-night walk to fend off your insomnia escalated into you confronting him, belittling his possessive nature, and demanding a real opportunity at freedom. Much to your surprise and his amusement, he had relented. Or at least on a surface level. Alucard himself had swung the doors wide open, presenting you with an opportunity for time outside. 

Which leads to your current predicament. 

Traversing the surrounding woods at night would be a nightmare, so you’ve been passing this time outside by sitting on a moss-covered bench. The initial high from being outdoors has worn off, replaced with frigid temperatures cutting deep into your bones. You wonder if Alucard would allow you to freeze to death. Or would he intervene at the least possible second, the curse of being his lover never coming to an end. Damn him. 

“So you intend to keep up this stubborn act,” a deep voice drawls, the hairs on the back of your neck standing. “Should I be impressed or insulted?” 

When a person out of sight is speaking, it’s a natural response to search for where they stand. You’ve learned that this rarely works with Alucard. His voice reverberates from every conceivable location, engulfing and drowning you, a testament to his inorganic disposition. 

“Do with it what you will.” Your response doesn’t sound as malicious as you wanted, weakened by your deteriorating state. It looks like your earlier guess of Alucard interfering only when your life is in danger turned out to be true. Even now, when facing an icy demise, you refuse to beg for help. He can go to hell for all I care, you think. If even hell would muster the courage to try and chain him down.

Alucard’s voice hums, a deep, guttural sound. “Was it something I said?” 

Clutching your knees to your chest, you huddle together even tighter for warmth. To narrow Alucard’s grievances against you down to a single statement is impossible. He’s always had a penchant for working you up, now is no different. The wintery weather seems to have gotten worse. Every time you manage to exhale, a white cloud appears in front of your face, a further testament to the extreme temperature. 

“Let’s go with that.” You rub your shaking hands together and blow air onto them.

“Strange, I thought I was doing you a favor,” Alucard’s voice swirls around you like the wind. “You did say that you wanted to go out if memory serves.” 

Really? He’s out here to poke fun at you? It shouldn’t come as a surprise, but the audacity he displays is never short of amazing. Even working up an emotional response like frustration is too much at this point. Your entire body is working overtime to hold onto life. Ah, that’s strange, you think. The way your ears are ringing, an eerie, high pitched noise. Black dots appear and disappear, obscuring your vision. It’s light. Everything feels so, terribly light. 

You’re not sure what happens next. 

When you wake, the setting is vastly different from where you had just been. There’s warmth, that’s the first thing you notice, coming from different sources. Blankets on top of your person and a roaring fireplace. So he brought you back to your room. Groaning, you wince at how your head pounds violently, not having the necessary strength to even lift your head.

“Next time, I’d prefer it if you let me die.” 

There’s no tangible evidence that Alucard is nearby, but you still say the words, uncaring if he hears them or not. 

“It’d be a pitiful death,” comes his response. “Why not ask for a more memorable one?” 

You sigh, knowing that answering the question will lead to more provocative remarks, but still do it anyway. “Are you telling me you’d grant it?” 

“I never said that.” 

“Figures.” 

Exhaustion weighs heavy on your weary soul. Maybe now you’ll be granted the mercy of a good night’s rest, though you try not to get your hopes up. You see Alucard beginning to materialize into a physical form, the sight nothing new, yet you’ve never been able to get used to it. Glimmers of midnight black and deep crimson create a shadow reminiscent of a human man. Flesh forms, filling out over bone, pallid in its coloration. His typical attire of blood-colored fabrics flows into creation around his person before he finally towers over you by your bedside. Inhuman eyes pierce through your weakened form, holding no flickers of humanity. 

A monster. 

“And here I thought you might thank your savior for saving you from an early death,” Alucard’s voice is amused, despite the dark context. “Instead, I find you glaring at me.” 

“For good reason.” You bring the blanket over your head, not wanting to see him any longer, irritation growing. Why can’t he just leave you alone? It’s a question that, when asked, serves only to perturb you further. Alucard claims each time that your little interactions are of great importance to him. Whatever that means, you think. 

“You’re the only human I’ve seen fit to have pity on,” he reminds, making you frown. “Thousands have begged for what you so easily dismiss.” 

Indignant, you pull the blanket down, blood boiling at his inflaming comments. “Like any of that is my fault. What did you expect me to do? Praise you to the high heavens for keeping me far away from any other living being?” 

He’s smiling at your outburst as if it were an entertaining show. It’s too late, but you realize this is exactly what he wanted, to see you getting all worked up over his purposefully upsetting words. Sighing in defeat, you lay back down on the mattress and squeeze your eyes shut, fully intending to ignore anything else he sees fit to say. If he wants to play dirty, then so be it. 

Alucard reaches his gloved hand out to your face, brushing his knuckles against your cheek, displaying a gentleness you thought impossible from a demon like him. It’s a featherlight touch that leaves goosebumps in its wake. Almost as if your body was attempting to reject it, aware of the heinous crimes those very hands have committed. 

“Rest well, my sweet little [First].” 

[hunger-and-desire]

The Battle for the Mirrorverse, Pt 6

Based off an old idea Crow/ @ghostsandmirrors​ and I were throwing around. Was seized with the need to write it. So here’s the first of what will be I don’t know how many parts.

Basic jist: The horsemen have teamed up with Misfortune to overthrow the Lady of the Mirror and take over. After a surprise attack, Famine, Bringer, and the Mirrorverse folk are scrambling to defend themselves and the Mirror World from the attackers. It doesn’t go their way.

Disclaimer: I don’t know what this place looks like so I just made it up. Sorry, Crow.

It was well past sunset when Famine and Bringer started off towards the enemy camp. In hooded cloaks and dark clothes, the pair blurred with the night sky as their horses beat a humming bird tattoo into the earth. Famine kept close to the heels of Bringer’s horse, trusting their knowledge of Nergale’s spies’ findings to take them where they needed to be.

As they rode, Famine went over her mental checklist of how the night would go. They would find the camp, she’d set up a ring of fire to make sure no one escaped, she’d burn the tents, she’d kill Death. The last point wasn’t one she was sure she could accomplish, she’d never killed him before, but she was filled with a rage that came from–pain of watching good people, pain of being mistrusted—and that rage was like an uncontained fire. It took on everything in its path and won, fizzling out when it was the only thing left. 

A soft haze on the horizon revealed itself to be the camp. Bringer pulled up their horse and Famine steered Desire up beside them. “Are we clear on the plan?” Bringer asked her and Desire came to a stop.

“Unless you’ve made any last minute changes.”

They shook their head.

“Then lets go kill some bitches.”

Famine started to pull Desire away when Bringer’s hand wrapped around one of the reins. Famine looked up sharply, on alert, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. “What are you doing?” she hissed.

Bringer uncurled their hand from the leather and let it fall to their side. “Be careful,” they said, avoiding her gaze as soon as they said it. A smile spread across Famine’s lips, equal parts mischievous and genuine.

“Is that…concern? For me?” she mocked. She just barley saw them roll their eyes as they pulled their horse away.

“Hush, dear,” the muttered before kicking their horse into a gallop. Famine watched Bringer disappear into the night, still smiling, but without the mischievous edge.

“You too,” she said, though only the stars could hear.

Famine and Desire galloped closer to the camp, but stopped still well a ways out of the light. Famine swung down off Desire and discarded her gloves and coat before making her way she towards the ring of tents lit by the soft glow of campfires somewhere within. When she reached the edge but was still concealed by the dark, she crouched, digging her hands into the ground and letting the meager life energy of the grass fill her. As she with drew her hands, she let fire slip down her fingers and ignite the fresh made kindling. It ate up the dried blades and spread. Famine did her best to control its route, curving the flames around the camp.

Satisfied, Famine stood and started into the camp. She let the illusions fall and, as she reached the first tents, stretched out a hand until it lightly touched the coarse fabric. Sparks lept from her fingers, eating up the linen like the ravenous beast it was. The screaming started almost immediately, and Famine could’ve mistaken it for music. She felt a wide grin begin to split her lips, letting the sharps tips of her teeth glint in the firelight. Tonight was a night for monsters, inside and out. She would be what Renrait thought she was. But only for the enemy. Only ever for the enemy.

 Death wasn’t sure what woke him first, the screaming or the smoke. Either way, he was rather annoyed at having to get up to clean whatever mess was creating itself outside his tent. “I thought I told you to put out any fires before you went to sleep, you fucking morons!” he growled as he stepped out into the night. What he found before him, though, didn’t look like an unattended campfire gone rouge. It looked like an attack. People were sprinting this way and that and many, many tents had already been reduced to ash.

Arms wrapped around Death’s shoulders before he could come to any mind about the situation. “KetrabE, ElOhElum, [Hello, Death]” Famine hissed, accent lisped and heavy like it had been when she was younger, “Yan-ar ErIy ochin melOlym kyt ych Enarn Y. [I’ve come to burn your kingdom down]” Fear that he was used to feeling around Famine rushed through him, but it ever got the chance to manifest as the anger he typically crafted it into as Famine snapped his neck.

 Bringer left his horse far from the camp, figuring it would be easier to go in on foot and fight. They saw the flash of flames at the other edge of camp and moved quickly, though carefully, to be well within the huddle of tents and people before it could reach them. They shifted their dagger in their hand, wondering when and how the killing would start. Surely, with the screams beginning to fill the air, Famine had already started her slaughter. Most of the people here would die by her hand, they realized; she was the far faster killer.

People were rushing around Bringer, trying to get to the burning tents slowly creeping towards them. For the most part, they ignored them, but as someone turned around to go grab something, they spotted Bringer. They didn’t even get the chance to make a sound before Bringer’s dagger was whipped across their throat. They sputtered once before dropping to their knees.

Moving quickly, Bringer took down as many people as notice them, but generally let the others go. There was only one person they really intended to kill that night and so far they hadn’t spotted her.

As they moved further into the camp, they began to wonder if she was even there. Bringer was about to turn back when they heard the familiar voice, “Girnber.” Latri stepped up beside them, smiling casually. “Whatever are you doing here?” There was a moment of fear at seeing her, but they quashed it down quickly and lashed out with their dagger before the words were even finished leaving her lips. Latri staggered back, looking a little shocked, before she swung out her own weapon. It clashed against the Bringer’s dagger and they shoved her off.

The camp was entirely alight and there were hardly enough people left to deter it from destroying the rest of the tents. Fire light flickered off the Bringer and Latri’s blades as the swung at one another, Bringer’s move infinitely more graceful that Latri’s haphazard flailing with her sword.

Lunging towards her, Bringer drove their dagger into Latri’s side and danced back before she could take advantage of their proximity. “Bastard,” Latri snarled. She lashed her sword out at them and they teleported behind her in an attempt to avoid it. As they reappeared, they realized the sword had just barley gotten their upper arm. “Do you honestly think you can beat me?” Latri growled as she spun to face them, “I destroyed your world, your family, and killed the Lady. After all that, you think you with your pathetic little dagger can stop me?”

Bringer was entirely too surprised to hear another voice answer: “Given the way you fought against me, I think they have pretty good odds.” Latri turned sharply and Bringer saw Famine standing behind her, skeletal, gray skinned, haloed in fire. It wasn’t often they saw her how she actually looked, as a horseman, and it always took a second to remember that it was, in fact, Famine. Latri seemed to be having similar trouble connecting what she saw before her with the voice she had heard, but as Famine let the Illusions ripple back over her skin, Misfortune tensed.

“You’re not—”

“I’m a bitch to kill,” Famine laughed. She looked past Latri as the woman sputtered and caught Bringer’s eye, “I’m going to get the horses; I’ve killed everyone I can.” She gave a shrug as if to say ‘what shall I do now?’ “Have fun,” she called as she turned to walk off into the fire. Latri’s focus remained attached to Famine, giving the Bringer the opportunity to dart forward once more and drive their dagger up through her back and into her heart.

“You may have destroyed everything around me,” Bringer snarled, “but you haven’t destroyed me.” They pulled the dagger back and stepped aside as Latri collapsed. She looked equal parts stunned and terrified as her heart struggled to continue. The Bringer watched her a moment as she stuttered and tried to figure out what to do next before turning their back and stepping off through the camp.

Latri watched them go, finding she could no longer reliably move or do much of anything. What little muscle strength she had holding her on her knees gave out and she collapsed onto her side, staring out a quickly burning camp with no way and no one there to help her.

Famine made her way out of the camp after confronting Bringer and Misfortune, strolling through the flames like they were nothing. She was almost past the last tents when a figure stepped out of the dark. Famine pulled up her blades but hesitated when she saw Pestilence appear. “This is oddly reminiscent of Gavid,” he mused, regarding the flames and corpses.

“Except I’m not here to impress Death,” she spat, “Or any of you.”

Pestilence nodded slowly, still staring out at the carnage. “What the hell do you want?” Famine finally asked. He glanced her way slowly, as if he had all the time in the world.

“This was rather harsh, don’t you think?” he asked, pointing to his neck. There was the thinnest silver line curved across it.

“Are you expecting an apology?”

The golden haired brat’s shoulders rolled in a shrug. “I didn’t want to be part of this,” he said.

Famine’s laugh was dark and rumbling. “You always sat that, brother, but do you realize how hollow it is when you continually work alongside our siblings?” Pest started to open his mouth to protest but Famine held up a hand. “If you really mean anything by it you’d stop this, you’d stand against them. You’d stand with me.”

“You know I can’t,” he sighed, “They’d—”

“Beat you?” Famine interrupted, “Hunt you? Kill you? What do you think happened to me?” Pestilence looked away from her. “And all I got from you in all of that were kinds words, useless words, and inaction. Now tell me, how the fuck does the absolve you of everything they did?” Famine shook her head and shoved her blades back into their sheaths. She stepped over to her brother, “I know you’re scared, but either shit or get off the pot.” There was a moment when Pestilence seemed like he was going to say something else, but he remained avoidant of Famine’s gaze and ashamed. A small growl slipped through Famine’s lips and she turned from her brother, storming off into the night.

Those who could escape the burning camp as the fire outside of it began to break in certain places. War and Pestilence made their way out, Death dead and cold between them. They disappeared through a portal back into Damonieum, leaving behind a world that was never their and never would be. The few stragglers that had managed to avoid both Famine and Bringer’s fury were dashing out into the night in search of a hovel they could hide in until it was forgotten that they’d been part of the plot to overthrow the ruler. It would be a long while until they could come back out again.

Far from the burning camp, Bringer and Famine sat on a ridge, watching as the flames that had been left to rage devoured the corpses and tents. “Well,” Famine sighed, breaking the silence that had been sitting between them since they’d fled the scene of the crime, “That’s that, I suppose.”

“I suppose so,” Bringer muttered. 

They both fell quiet once more. Famine shifted closer to Bringer and laid her head on their shoulder. They wrapped an arm around the horseman and gently laid their own head on top of hers. The pair sat that way as the fire slowly ate itself out of existence, leaving them in the dark, quiet night.

[m-i-y-o-k-i]

Love As Scripted AU -- Yandereplier and Bim Trimmer

[here’s the story it’s based on if you wanna read it https://youtu.be/pkXdGrES_s4 ]

[this is just one looooong af headcanon/au. also!! using she/her pronouns for yan!!]

--

Yan had grown infatuated with Bim, watching his appearances on various television shows, game shows, etc. To the point she’s dug up every bit of information about the handsome television host. To her delight, Bim is recording the newest season of his television game show near her. Yan grows excited – no, absolutely head over heels in love as she continues to bother him around the set. From following him to his car to waiting outside his dressing room.

Surprisingly, she starts to grow on Bim. An attention hungry television host and a lovesick, obsessive fan?

Perfect.

The two grow closer, Bim making more and more moves on Yan. Yan excited and watching nothing more than to be with him. He allows her access to his dressing room at all times. Allows her to watch from backstage as he records. Even allowing her to sit with the audience. A secret relationship hidden from the public eye and the television crew.

It’s one day when the lovely couple are alone after a long day does Bim speak up.

“Yan? Can I show something?” he smiles, a drowsy tone in his voice as he stands to his desk. Yan perking up.

“Yes, senpai?”

“…Did you know I write scripts? I…never really told anyone about it. But I do, and I think you’d like them.” He nervously chuckles, handing her the rough draft.

Yan nods, skimming through the lines and paragraphs. Her smile never fading. She reads on about the story Bim’s created – the story of a casanova who leaves a trail of broken hearts behind. How the casanova works his ways and feels no remorse. How he only craves one thing – attention.

“Wow…senpai, this is amazing,” she sighs, holding the script to her chest in an embrace. “Do you plan to write more?”

“Of course. I hope, with my studio connections and all, to one day have it aired as a television series.” He chuckles, hugging Yan close as he settles into the couch they laid on. “Can you imagine? Me, Bim Trimmer – host, director, and debuting screenwriter.”

“I can’t wait to see it, senpai. I can’t wait for us to make your dream come true. Together.”

Bim winces behind Yan’s back. She can’t be serious. She’s just some lovesick fan. She knows this has to end, right? Or, was he simply that great of an actor to hide his true intentions?

“Yeah…together.” he mumbles lowly. Reaching down to kiss Yan. Her surprised gasp makes Bim smile against her lips.

“I love you, senpai.”

Bim mumbles under his breath. Hoping it sounds like an “I love you, too.”

Over the next couple of days, Yan reads over the script with Bim. And Bim has to admit, she does have a gift. Her emotions and delivery of his lines effortless and talented. Her actions perfect to fit the characters. Even pushing her red and black hair back or fixing it to add to their personalities.

She was truly a natural.

–

And then, things began to crash the moment Bim was given a new co-host. A female co-host. One who shined a bright white smile and flowing black hair. Large eyes and voice as soft as a cloud.

It was then, Bim started to act differently towards Yan. Denying access to his dressing room one day. The door locked, the quiet chuckles and laughter of Bim and the new co-host.

But what really did it? What set off the growing rage in Yan?

Seeing the magazines and headlines on television the next day.

‘Bim Trimmer and New Co-Host Announce Romance!’

’“I just see something in her that I haven’t had in years” Say Bim Trimmer About New Girlfriend.’

'Bim Trimmer and New Co-Host Have Romantic Dinner Downtown – What’s Next For Television’s Newest Power Couple?’

Yan immediately calls Bim, tears of anger in her eyes as the two bicker and fight. Their argument growing heated as Bim sighs. The other end going quiet as Yan shouts.

“Is this some sick joke?! Do you love her now?!”

“…You know this couldn’t go on much longer, Yan. Just…let me explain. I’ll be over in ten minutes.”

Yan twitches as she hangs up. Huffing, anger rising in her as she awaits Bim.

–

“Please! This wasn’t meant to last, Yan! Don’t you understand? I need to see other women. I need to gain experience for my script. You said we’d work together to make my dream come true.” He sighs adjusting his glasses, “those were your words.”

There they say. The kitchen table, Bim sitting uncomfortably in his seat as Yan continued to fight back the tears.

He reaches into his suit to produce a small USB. Taking Yan’s hand and placing it in hers. Shivers run down her spine as Bim closes her hand and smiles.

“Just, listen to this video if you miss me. It’ll be there for you when you’re lonely, okay? Just…please don’t hate me, Yan.”

“…you’re disgusting.” She snarls. Yan quickly stands from her seat, “you believe you can…play around? Go with who you please without thinking of the other person? You, Bim Trimmer, are a disgusting and horrible human.”

The clatter of silverware sets Bim on edge. “Yan, w-what are you doing-”

He doesn’t have time to finish as Yan lunches at him with the knife. Bim only running a few feet into the living room before succumbing to Yan’s attack. The knife plunging deep into his shoulder blade. Yan stabbing his back with rage. Tears in her eyes. The memories of their short lived relationship blinding her from her attack.

After a minute, she stops. Curling up besides Bim’s body. Shaking, throwing the bloodied knife away.

–

She sits there alone, seeing Bim bleed onto the hardwood. His suit becoming dirtied, his white shirt turning a bright crimson.

Yan stands, wiping her tears. Seeing her beloved senpai bleed out becomes too much to bear. Walking down to the kitchen once more. Seeing the book bag he’d brought with him. Seeing a journal with her name on it.

“W-what?” She utters to herself, flipping through the pages. His blood on her hands stain the clean pages.

Paragraphs of lines stare back at her. Starring her and Bim. As if it was a conversation they’d have together – all those nights ago in his dressing room.

She skims over the lines – no, her replies. It sounded exactly what she’d say. Realization hitting her as she looks across at the forgotten usb on the counter. Her laptop besides Bim’s bag, where she’d been studying before the chaos.

'Bim: Hey, Yan. [stretches] God, work today was a nightmare. Our audio crashed.

Yan: Oh, I’m sorry. How bad?

Bim: They barely picked up my audio, the contestants’ was too loud-’ she read to herself once more.

“It…can’t hurt to play along.” she sniffles, plugging the USB in to watch the video. Her eyes widening as she saw the ending time stamp.

'6:00:00’

Bim had worked six hours worth of conversation for…her? For her to talk back to the screen? Is that what he meant by lonely?

Yan watches on. Awkwardly following the script. Tears in her eyes as she played along. The man on her screen now laying facedown in his own blood.

After the first hour, she actually started to lose herself in the script. It was as if Bim was still alive. Still with her. Not that other woman. Just her and her Bim, together again.

–

Yan was about to rewind to the beginning before she heard the thudding and dragging noises.

Yelling in horror as she saw Bim, bloodied and in pain, drag himself into the kitchen. His nails dull as his blood smeared across the tiles underneath him.

“Y-yan!” He rasps out, his voice hoarse, “p-please! Help me! I-I’m sorry-”

Yan pauses the video, playing it from the beginning. Keeping her composure as she walked in front of Bim.

“I’m b-bleeding out more, y-you need to call 911, please! I…I won’t even press charges!” He takes another deep inhale, “I’ll even marry you! Anything! Just, please, save me!”

Yan steps on his hand, applying enough pressure to stop him.

“I don’t care about you anymore. I don’t love you anymore. The Bim I love is over there…You’re just a disgusting actor.”

Bim looks up in horror, his own paused image staring back at him.

“Y-yan! Knock it off! Snap out of it, goddamn it! Y-you know that isn’t real! If you watch it over and over, you’ll get bored of it! Yan, p-please, I don’t have much t-time.”

“Oh, but a great script never grows old. My Bim created a masterpiece. You did nothing.” She snarls before picking up a different knife, a much heavier one.

“Yan…Yan, please, god-no!” Bim screams before Yan drives it through his head. Bim growing silent. Finally gone from Yan.

Yan huffs. Tossing the knife away. It skids across the tiles before she settled back in her chair. Starting the video over again.

“Hey, Yan. God, work today was a nightmare. Our audio crashed.” the video says from the laptop’s speakers.

She smiles through her tears, seeing her lovely Bim again. She sighs, picking the script back up.

“Oh, I’m sorry. How bad?”

And thus, the conversation continues on. Just her and Bim – together again.

[thewritinghole]

The AI Genie

Written by @elleleuthold. I made up the title because it didn’t have one.

I apologize for taking so long to post this, I had a few exams this week that took up my time.

Submit your writing to be featured here!!!

This is a short story I wrote in response to a prompt by @writing-prompt-s which said: “In the post apocalyptic wasteland, “genies” are actually still functioning AI’s that provide their “masters” advanced knowledge. You’ve just unearthed one while scavenging.” (original post here) If you like, you can find more of my work at @elleleuthold. Enjoy!

You touched it by accident. It looked like just another piece of long-forgotten scrap in the rubble, defunct of purpose without an ancient battery and fifteen accessories, but now it’s moving. What had been a sort of elongated cylinder is unfolding itself, expanding and growing one translucent layer of filmy darkness at a time.

“What the hell is it?” Lei asks. She leans in for a closer look, holding up her little cutting torch as if it can ward off an attack.

Not that you can think of a way this could attack, exactly, but you can remember Yan and Nima’s story about the undetonated landmine two wards over, and Chandra’s unfortunate discovery of the laz-blade that looked like a harmless pen, so you’re backing away slowly.

“Lei, come on,” you say, reaching for her.

“I’m only looking,” she protests as as you drag her back behind the crumbling remains of a cinder-block wall. “You don’t have to treat me like a kid, you know, I passed my explo trials same as you.”

You refrain from commenting. Anything you say will only lead to hours of pouting and pointless arguments and irritability and a horribly uncomfortable trip back to the settlement. Jedda Anisa and Ju-laoshi put you in charge and Lei knows it. You’re older, you’ve been out on more missions, and you’re the one they’ll blame if anything happens to her.

She wrenches her arm out of your grip but doesn’t try to pull away again. Maybe she’s remembering Chandra too, or one of the countless other stories you’ve both been fed since you started walking and poking your fingers into dark corners. There’s always plenty of fear to fill your belly with, no matter how scarce food gets.

The whatever-it-is settles, somehow, sealing together into a dark and perfectly smooth sphere about the size of your head. A light pulses inside it, but nothing else happens.

“Maybe it’s charging,” Lei whispers.

“For what?” you ask, and she shrugs.

“But it’s a good sign, right? I mean, the sun-powered stuff doesn’t usually explode, right?”

“I guess,” you admit. Not-exploding is one thing, actually useful is another. You can’t imagine why anyone would go to so much trouble to make what looks like an overly complicated night light. What could it possibly do for anyone?

The light intensifies, then stops blinking.

Then the thing screams, a high-pitched and staccato burst of sound, and you clamp your hands over your ears in an attempt to shut it out. Lei is saying something, her mouth is definitely moving, but you can’t make out any words, just the extended wail of the sphere in its little hollow.

Silence.

“What was that,” Lei asks, and you shake your head. None of the Devices you’ve ever heard of did anything like this.

“What snaphthilsn yilerfno,” says the sphere.

Lei turns to you, wide eyed, but you don’t have any answers. An extra hour or two of reading every week doesn’t make you an expert on spoken communication.

“We should leave,” you decide. Machines that talk are definitely on Jedda Anisa’s list of Things To Avoid.

“Bopleddooort gerufl what kiwachi you,” says the sphere.

“I don’t want to leave,” Lei says. “Look at it! It’s talking! It can tell us what it’s for!”

“It could be talking to satellite weapons systems,” you say, grabbing at her hand again. “Come on, there’s only a few hours of daylight left, we should get home. Maybe one of the teachers can tell us what to do.”

“What snklur do you wish porokkkl,” says the sphere.

“Wishes?” Lei asks. She grins, lit up and eager like you haven’t seen her since her brother walked out into the wastes and didn’t come back.

“Lei,” you start, but she’s already bounding over to the thing, caution forgotten.

“Do you grant wishes?” she asks it. “Is that what you’re for? Are the stories true and–”

“It’s not fucking magic!” you yell. “This isn’t a fairy tale, and you know it. It’s a talking bit of tech we know nothing about, and it’s not a djinni, or a wizard, or a magic ring, and no matter what you do it can’t bring the dead back. It can’t fix the sky, or clean water, or grow food, no matter how much you say I wish everything was better, I wish we could just go back to how it was, it’s never going to happen because the world doesn’t work that way.”

You realize you’re shouting, your arms thrown out in frustration. Lei is glaring murder at you, the twist of her mouth and set of her shoulders all injured pride and choked-back pain.

You sigh and drop your arms.

“Sorry,” you say. “But you know what everyone would say if we told them–”

“Plosrn,” says the sphere. “Clean water, grow food. oflipr air kawat, yes, I can ferubl that.”

You can feel the push and pull of your lungs, but you can’t seem to breathe. Like the bad days, when the smog rolls in thicker than soup in your mouth, seeping through your nose and painting your throat raw so you gag with it, choking and coughing until your stomach cramps and there are tears on your cheeks.

Like that, but there’s no smog today. No one’s allowed outside the settlement on those days. And yet here you are, stomach cramping, eyesight blurring, no breath in your lungs.

“What did you say?” The words feel torn out of you.

“Clean water, grow food, oflipr air kawat,” the sphere repeats. “Olemy.”

It drifts away over the cracked concrete slabs and twisted rebar and scraggly little gray grasses, out toward the deep wastes. You blink hard against the blurriness and try to look closer, but it’s not really doing anything but leaving.

“We have to follow it,” Lei says. She’s gripping your arm. You don’t know when she started that, but you can feel the bony clench of her hand even through two jackets and three layers of shirts. “You know we do.”

You manage to nod and stumble after the thing. Food and clean water are always priorities, but you’re barely paying attention to that. You’d thought you’d given up on hope years ago, when the old windmill broke and took the radio down with it and your mother said I’m sorry, this isn’t the world I wanted for you. But there’s a lightness in your chest, a quiet space in your mind that doesn’t feel empty, like hunger, or dragging, like despair. It’s the glow of watchtower light when you’re racing a storm and the sound of one hundred and thirty seven voices raised in song, welcoming you home.

You almost trip over the sphere when it stops. Lei runs into your back and clings to your shoulders. 1500 meters, some part of you notes. That’s how far you are from the buggy, with its extra water and ration packs, and the breather tank, and the emergency shelter and your javelins. It’s a full thousand meters further into the wastes than you’ve ever been before.

The sphere is chirping to itself, nothing resembling language this time. The light inside flickers, and then… a doorway opens into the earth. The sphere passes through it, and a moment later light pours forth, brighter than the lamps back home and tinged faintly blue.

A vault, you think, barely daring to voice the words even in your mind. Lei is praying in your ear, her breath on your cheek, and then the chant is tumbling over your own lips, a rolling invocation as you take one step, and then another, and then you’re inside.

It’s pristine. The only dust is what’s blown in with you since the seal broke. No scurrying rats, no nesting wasps, no creeping mold. You walk through the little entryway, scanning signs and labels on cabinets, shelves and stacks of old vacuum trunks. You can’t read it all—Old Arabic mixed with Pinyin and Cyrillic, and some others you don’t recognize—but you can read enough. You press your hand flat against a crate marked Seeds as if it can ground you in this place, because you already know you’re going to remember this forever. This is a Moment, as your sister likes to call them. The exact second of discovery that changes your world forever.

There are filtration units on a shelf to your right. Air scrubbers further down the row. And you can’t see the far wall, just shelf after shelf of supplies and tools and plastic-wrapped treasures. The sphere is bobbing along more than fifty feet away, a miracle you’d never thought would come.

Lei holds your free hand tightly, and you squeeze back, harder than you should, hard enough to bruise, but she doesn’t seem to notice.

“See,” she says, smiling like the sunrise, “It grants wishes after all.”

And you pull her close, so full with brimming light you can’t form words, and you laugh until you cry.

[zekessanctuary]

Yan Jie movie recap: 神算子蔣敬 / Inn on Fire (Divine Mathematician Jiang Jing)

Today, I’ll be recapping 神算子蔣敬, aka Inn on Fire (aka Divine Mathematician Jiang Jing). And by recapping, I mean more like fangirling and squealing aimlessly. SO! Onto the squeeing recap. Oh and I must mention that I watched this movie without any English subtitles which means I actually don’t know what is entirely going on in the story (LOL). 

Other recaps:  杀出太平镇 / Killing Taiping Town

In this movie, Yan Jie plays a character named Jiang Jing. The story takes place in 12th century Song Dynasty China and starts off with a stormy night. Although it’s hard to see his entire face, I can instantly recognise it’s him. Probably due to having spent far too long studying his face. 

Since I don’t understand what he’s saying to himself in this scene, I’m going to guess from what he’s doing that he’s either an exiled General or he’s escaped from his duty due to some terrible incident just before this. I think he’s on the run because later, we find out that he’s a wanted man with a bounty on his head. 

Gotta mention this scene though when he’s pouring wine: he’s lifted the wine bottle SO FAR UP ABOVE those wine bowls that the liquid is barely going in!! LOOK AT THEM SPLASH RIGHT OUT LMFAO and yet he just continues pouring the wine from one bowl to another. LOL what is there left to drink now?! Just sad, sad rain. 

Moving on, he’s removed his armor (omg why did he have to just stop there) and now dresses like a commoner. Enters an inn and asks for more wine. I really wasn’t so sure about this haircut at first - I mean, those... bangs... do they really go with that ancient Chinese style hair? But throughout the movie I got more and more used to it, and it doesn’t take away his cuteness so in the end I liked it. 

Turns out a couple of the other inn guests are there for the bounty on his head, a fight ensues and whoa THOSE SPINNY SPIKE THINGS flying out of Jiang Jing’s abacus! Dat 3D. 

Look at my Handsome Assassin (yes I still sometimes call him Handsome Assassin because of his role in Nirvana in Fire) pose as he holds his... abacus weapon. I mean, I did think it was a strange choice to choose an abacus as your primary weapon, but after googling it turns out this was based on some historical character who really did fight with an abacus. So. Yeah. Besides, he IS the Divine Mathematician after all, and the ancient calculator is therefore mightier than the sword. 

Back to the story. It turns out the enemies got to him anyway with their hidden blades so Jiang Jing drops his precious abacus and spews blood. Honestly he gets injured SO MANY TIMES in this film, I think I’m just going to gif every scene of him getting hurt now because apparently I enjoy watching my Handsome Assassin suffer: 

While he’s being tied up by the innkeeper lady after re-entering consciousness, I’m busy checking out his magnificent manly jaw and chin:

I’m guessing at this point that innkeeper lady wants the hefty bounty reward too, hence her capturing him. But! Due to Jiang Jing’s quick wits and dexterity, he blows out the single source of light in the room, i. e. the candle she holds close to him, and turns the table around by literally swapping his position with the innkeeper lady during those moments of darkness. He relights the candle and now she’s sitting all tied up where he was mere seconds before!

And he cockily throws a nut into his mouth. Everything in the previous sentence was intentional. 

Tons of other story stuff happen but I’m skipping details now as I’m mostly just focusing on his prettiness. Because honestly I’m struggling with following it due to lack of subtitles lmao.  AWWWW LOOK AT HIM HERE HE’S SO CUTE AAHHSADKJFLSKADJF;K

Innkeeper lady totally has the hots for Jiang Jing. She’s filling his wine bowl in this next scene, gets him super drunk and watches him with this hungry expression lmao:

Ooooo she makes a move while he’s barely holding it together. Nice juicy lips on Yan Jie, btw. 

Some bad guys charge in at this point, a fight breaks out and Jiang Jing appears to have some kind of ability to disable movements so all the enemies become frozen: 

However, boss of the bad guys is still conscious, he says something that angers Jiang Jing, probably that his motor disabling skills do not work cos the rest of the bad guys ended up moving anyway, so Jiang Jing’s face goes from:

to: 

Innkeeper lady gets captured and taken hostage by this point, so for a brief moment Jiang Jing lets his guard down and is beaten down a second time:

Unfortunately, the bad guys kill the innkeeper lady, much to Jiang Jing’s grief. But! TURNS OUT THIS WAS ALL A DREAM ANYWAY. Jiang Jing wakes up from his drunken slumber and leaves innkeeper lady, probably realizes that if he hangs around her his enemies would kill her too if he gets caught. 

Timeskip, he’s now doing some stuff with some officials to catch the bad guys. There’s a scene where he’s looking back with the weirdest expression on his face. LMFAO YAN JIE WHAT IS UP WITH THIS FACE?!

Oh my god my retelling of this story is all over the place. Jiang Jing returns back to innkeeper lady, they have some kind of disagreement then the bad guys enter AGAIN and Jiang Jing has to fight them again. This time he incorporates some waterbending shiz though, look at those super smooth fluid movements: 

And as always, the boss of the bad guys is the last one to deal with. Go on Jiang Jing, show him who’s really boss by beating him with your ancient calculator!! 

Unsurprisingly, Boss Bad Guy throws out a dirty trick and poisons our hero. Jiang Jing attempts to dodge it but to no avail, he then tries to steady his hand for one final blow... 

... before he passes out deliciously: 

dear god why HAVE I MADE THREE GIFS OF JUST HIM COLLAPSING wtf is wrong with me

Moving on swiftly, there is a whole crazy scene later at a campfire where Jiang Jing wakes up to find his innkeeper lady friend is also captured by the bad guys and the Boss Bad Guy wants to bang her, but in the previous fight, right before Jiang Jing faints from the poison, his last second move gave the Boss Bad Guy erectile dysfunction so Boss Bad Guy gets all mad and starts strangling Jiang Jing who laughs his ass off at him *breathes*

YEP THAT ALL HAPPENED. We can safely know that Jiang Jing didn’t actually get strangled to death here because the reward to bring him back alive is much higher. 

Anyhow, Boss Bad Guy also has a boss, we’ll call him Boss Boss Bad Guy. He shows up (well he’s been showing up throughout the entire movie, I just haven’t bothered to even mention him until just now), kills Boss Bad Guy (probably for being useless) and has a final fight with Jiang Jing in the inn (hey that rhymes). At this point, innkeeper lady has escaped to find help. 

So Jiang Jing vs Boss Boss Bad Guy/Ancient Calculator vs actual weapon:

Oh I somehow managed to capture this face of Boss Boss Bad Guy in the middle of the fight: 

Terrifying.

At some point in the fight, our hero finally realizes his abacus isn’t really that great for beating up corrupt officials so he bends and breaks it, causing its little spinny spike things (remember those?) to shoot out and severely injure Boss Boss Bad Guy. However this isn’t enough to take down the resilient villain, plus at the same time the spikes have smashed open most of the wine bottles around the inn. The entire room is now flooded with alcohol and the two resume their fight: 

Jiang Jing eventually gets overpowered as Boss Boss Bad Guy who ties him up with a chain, it feels like all hope is lost here: 

But then! In the nick of time, innkeeper lady brings back help from another group of people - I really didn’t understand who they were, perhaps more officials? Possibly. Anyway, so Boss Boss Bad Guy goes out to greet them and is met with a rainfall of arrows. The new arrivals shoot more fire arrows at the inn and, well, upon touching the alcohol-filled inn, the whole building gets set on fire. 

WAIT WHAT

BUT

Jiang Jing is still in there! All tied up!!  But nope, he somehow crawls his way out and hides safely inside a well just outside the inn, because later we see him climb out next morning. Let’s just forget about the fact that he was all tied up in chains eh:

Yaaaay he lives!! He finds a horse and manages to locate innkeeper lady in the middle of the desert. She pretends to be annoyed with him but he playfully grabs her and lifts her onto his horse, much to her excitement (look how happy she is!) and the two ride off romantically into the sunset. 

THE

END. 

My god, this is probably one of the worst things I’ve ever written (so far). There are 2 more to go, might as well rename this to Yan Jie’s movie butchering rather than recaps. Up next, 杀出太平镇 / Killing Taiping Town!