#he will never find their souls or their corpses anywhere he already knows this

[ladynicte]

Nico who has been deified after his death. Nico who's sure, after all this time, he's finally managed to let go of his older sister's death, of course, it still hurts, and of course, he will never forget her, but that fiery hatred and overtaking sadness, has finally been put to rest.

Nico knows and understands that his sister chose to move on without him, and that's okay, no it's never gonna be okay but he's made his peace with that too, and now, that he's an inmortal himself he never expects to see Bianca again.

Nico lives easy. He works for his father, he sleeps for a couple decades at a time, sometimes he goes back to Camp, takes care of some kids during their quests here and there, but for the most part, he's a chain-free roaming God.

And then, one day at Camp Nico meets her, a tiny little girl, with how long he has lived, time has become almost impossible for Nico to really track down anymore, but he's sure this girl can't be more than 10.

And something about her eyes, her dark, void-like eyes, and her long black hair, and her proud stance. It really reminds him of somebody else.

The girl is all alone, no little brother or older sister of her own, no parents either, apparently, she's a child of Hekate, but that really doesn't matter.

Something about the girl's every move, about the way she approaches the darkness without fear, about the way she approaches him, like she's known him all his life, the way she uses her whole body when talking.

It reminds Nico of Bianca. This girl's soul is just like Bianca's.

And Nico supposes it's no longer a fatal flaw, but he still doesn't know how to let go.

Nico immediately claims her on the spot, lets her sleep on the Hades Cabin, helps her out with everything, takes care of her for years and years.

It's the first time in centuries, that Nico as a God feels connected to his mortal side.

When the little girl cuddles against him, because she's had yet another nightmare about manticores and huge robots, while Nico quietly tries to hug her, and reassure her she's going to be fine, he even starts thinking that maybe his family has grown, yet again.

And then, she's send off on a Quest, Nico loudly protests against it, because he knows how those end.

Because, he still remembers waking up screaming and trashing, in the middle of the night, inside the Hermes Cabin, surrounded by strangers and shadows, as he felt Bianca's soul perish away.

But it's no use, the Oracle of her time had already issued her prophecy, this new girl, Rachel having long since passed away, who Nico feels almost comfortable cursing in the spot, just like his father had done so many centuries ago.

The little girl leaves, and Nico now has nobody to swear to keep her protected. Nico knows it's useless to try to convince her to stay, but he still does, it doesn't work, it never has worked

But truth is, she doesn't even look scared.

She's excited, and ready, and determined, and Nico has to wonder if this is how Bianca looked like, during her last week on Earth, too.

The girl leaves and she doesn't come back.

Nico thinks, it should be easier by now. It isn't, it's never gonna be it

Hades catches Nico roaming mindlessly around Elysium, after noticing his absence from The House, for what's either days, or years.

Hades mournfully reassures Nico that Bianca is not there anymore. No, not this time, not last time, not next time either.

After that, Nico chooses to abandon Camp fully, once again, he doesn't come back for another few centuries, until Hermes asks him for help getting his children to satefy at Camp.

Nico swallows the bile, that he's sure a Godly body like his own, shouldn't be able to produce anymore, shakes Hermes's hands, and tells his cousin his children will make it through, just fine.

Nico rescues the kids, regretfully send them off to live all cramped up together at their Father's Cabin forever, but one of the boys of the bunch, just has such dark eyes, like a black hole consuming souls.

And he stands so proud, and Nico just knows once more, and all at once, because he would recognize Bianca's soul anywhere.

In life, in death, at the end of the world, in a Hekate's daughter, in an Hermes's son, it doesn't matter, the person standing in front of him, is simply Bianca in another skin.

Bianca, being a wild hero once more, and Nico has to wonder if she can see him as clearly as he can see her.

Bianca is the only one after all, who has known him all his life, Bianca knew his name before it was even his own. Nico was born knowing her.

If she can see him, or if she can't, Nico doesn't even know which one would hurt more.

Time passes, and if Nico let's the boy sleep at the Hades Cabin, because the nightmares about manticores, giant robots, and magic are too much to bear, and he can't even scream in peace inside the Hermes Cabin, well, that's only Nico's own business to know about.

Nico realizes, after a few ages of Godhood, that The Fates like repeating their own stories.

Nico knows he hates all of them, deeply and purposefully.

The Oracle comes up to the boy, Nico is sure she must be a new girl, but all the girls Apollo chooses all look the same, and she is the same, she gives the hero the prophecy that will bury him.

And, it doesn't even take Nico a glance to know, that this is where that boy's life thread is cut.

Nico wants to sneer, this would be Bianca's third death, and if a hero dies three times they get the special prize, and yet.

Nico begs the boy to not go, because they both know he's not gonna make it back.

Bianca never has. Bianca never does. This is Bianca's fate. She was already dead before the story even began.

But the boy doesn't even break eye contact with Nico, as he tells Nico that he's very kind, and that he loves him too, but no way.

He's gonna go, and so, the boy does.

The boy leaves and he doesn't come back, and Nico has to crawl at his Godly skin, and remember the sensations, of back when there was human flesh, and blood running through his veins.

And that's just the thing isn't it, that Bianca is never going to stay by his side, because she doesn't want to.

#you ever think about the fact that bianca preferred to stop completely existing before waiting for Nico and nico knows it #nico di angelo #Bianca di Angelo #pjo #god nico #luna writes #<- i mean this is halfway a fic already so yeah #this is about Bianca's reincarnations and how difficult Nico's and hers relationship really is like she loves him hes her little brother #but also she wants another family she was never gonna stay not because shes forced to but simply because that's not the choice she wanted #to make and all his life what nico wanted was for her to choose to stay and she just didn't #she never waited around she never showed up she left at once and asked for no opinions she took her life in her own hands #well that's all kinda messed up by the Riordan blog post just randomly having her in Elysium but whatever those arent canon #luna's headcanons #also nico taking care of kids is everything to me so yeah he would love and cherish the hell out of those kids even if sometimes they #behave even older than him and they all would still abandon him he supposes he should be fine with but he isnt #he will never find their souls or their corpses anywhere he already knows this

[cat-toess]

❀ LOVESICK PT.2 ❀

Summary ✄: In which, Lyney finally decides to do something about his massive crush on you with the encouragement of his siblings.

✄ Part one here!: Lovesick part 1

Tags ✄: fluff, friends to lovers, mid-length (sort of) gn!reader (intended, I sincerely apologize if not, please message me if you find any mistakes in terms of this topic! I will do my best to improve my writing :D)

✄ Notes: This was so delayed 💀 And for once in my life my delulu brain had no more delusions to feed my stories with, so I was stuck for a while on the plot... But it turned out good in the end (?) LYNEY IS SUCH A SIMP. AND I'M NEVER LETTING THAT IDEA GO OUT OF MY HEAD

If you want you can listen to any Laufey song while reading this! (That's what I was listening to while creating this-)

P.S: I will be revising this even after this has been published, so if you find any grammatical errors then it might be fixed the next time you check <3 might even add paragraphs- so if you want, make sure to check in regularly!

✄ Ft. Lynette and Freminet's pain and suffering

It’s been precisely a week since the very memorable encounter at the café with Lyney. And honestly Lynette thinks she can’t take another millisecond of her brother's endless rambles about how you ‘gently pulled him up, like he was fragile glass.’ And how ‘you two were about to kiss’ 

This had been going on for around 7 days, 20 minutes and 15 seconds. A good test of her patience, Lynette thinks to herself. 

Now even gentle and ever calm Freminet was staring to run away as soon a Lyney came anywhere from 2 to 5 meters near him. Just so he could avoid getting another earful about how ‘your presence could light up the whole of Fontaine”

It was getting unbearable for both Lynette and Freminet. They both constantly ate dinner in terror, and carefully selected their words, making sure to not make even the slightest gesture that could remind Lyney of your encounter with him. 

One time Lynette made the awful mistake of brining up Cafe Lucerene at the dinner table. 

Lynette was only half-way through finishing her sentence but Lyney was already talking. 

“Oh I could never forget that cafe, it’s the place where me and my darling Y/N met, who knows maybe we’ll get married there!” Lyney dreamily sighs, resting his chin on the palm of his hand. 

Lynette could only look apologetically to Freminet, who was close to a mental breakdown. And truth be told, Lynette was too. All the (sane) siblings could do was pray that this ramble ended short. 

They were sorely mistaken if they thought Lyney’s conversations about you would ever end short. 

Lyney ended up filling up 2 notebooks, full of wedding plans. All while he forced Lynette and Freminet to stay and discuss the flowers, the design of the wedding clothes, guests and even the date on which your wedding would take place. (He said February 14th, because what better day to be wed than the day of romance and love?)

“I don’t think I can take all this ranting for much longer” Lynette groans, rubbing her forehead, trying to relive the pounding headache she had from losing too much sleep, due to Lyney keeping her up to vent all his delusions to her. Lucky Freminet, she thought to no one in particular, he was able to avoid Lyney last night. (Not like he was in any better shape though) 

“Me too, maybe there’s a solution to this?” Poor Freminet, he looked like  a walking corpse. His movements dull and his mouth hanging open, like his soul was going to pop out of it and accend to celestia any minute now. 

“Yeah, and some how make Lyney shut up about ‘the love of his life’ for one second? Fat chance” Lynette grumbled. 

Freminet stared at his sister, trying to think of someway to solve their problems. All while Lyney angrily stirred a cup of tea. 

“Wait, if Lyney likes Y/N then wouldn’t all his ranting stop if he dates them?” Freminet says, deep in thought. 

“Huh? Wouldn’t that just increase the topics he can use to torment us with?” Lynette questions, finishing her tea in one violent gulp. 

“Well, maybe if they started dating, he would focus on complimenting them directly instead of picking us as his unfortunate victims? It’s worth a shot right?” 

“I suppose… though the chance of them reciprocating his feelings are close to none, at least he talks to them often…” Lynette scoffs as she adds a sugar cube to her custom design deep turquoise tea cup. 

“Right, we should try to convince him to ask Y/N on a date at dinner today. Maybe that’ll give us enough time to get some rest…” Freminet mumbles rubbing his nose bridge.

Poor Y/N, thought Lynette. Her spine exploding with shivers the moment she thought about what you would have to deal with if you got together with that brother of hers. 

Oh well, maybe you’d like it? 

——

It was dinner, the atmosphere was stiff and tense. Like someone had to say something (which was true) The only thing that could be heard was the small clinks of cutlery on plates. 

Freminet nods at Lynette to signal the start of their plan. Lynette gives a small thumbs up to Freimiet as he gets ready to confront his older brother to hopefully stop the endless rambling. 

”So Lyney, we wanted to talk about Y/N-“ Freminet nervously says. 

“Oh? Why didn’t you say so earlier? I caught a glimpse of them today in the opera house, and they were as stunning as ever-“ If he wasn’t cut off by Lynette, who knows how long he would have went on for? 

“Oh for crying out loud Lyney! We’re here to talk about when you’re going to ask them out!”  Lynette yells out while violently stabbing the meat steak on her plate. Her final string of sanity snapping. Her usually tranquil self no where to be seen. Perhaps it was because the hours of lost sleep.

“What Lynette means to say, is that we encourage you to ask them out.”  Freminet corrects while coughing into his fist. Praying that the rest of their plan would go smoothly. 

“Huh? Really? You think they’ll say yes?” Lyney says, voice barely above a whisper. The mere thought of you and him being an item makes his heart rapidly beat against his ribcage, his hands fidgeting and mind restless. 

Now if usually if Lynette saw her brother in a state like this, then new blackmail material would be collected. No questions asked. 

But under these circumstances Lynette couldn’t care less about black mail. Not with her sanity (and Freminet’s) on the line. 

“Then if I may ask , could you two help me to-“ Lyney says 

“No!” Freminet shouts, jumping up from his seat. Lyney surprised to see his brother like this quirks a brow at him, as if to silently ask if anything was wrong. 

“I mean, we think that it would be better if you planned it on your own. That way it’ll be more heartfelt because you did it yourself, right Lynette?”  He Hurriedly says as Lynette furiously shakes her head up and down. 

“I suppose so…thank you for always supporting me Lynette, Fremi, I don’t know what I would do without you two.” (I’m convinced that Lyney calls Freminet “Fremi” Fight me) Lyney beamed as he started to clean up the dishes and put them into the sink (do they have sinks in Fontaine? ) “Well I’m going to head up first and plan the date, after all, it has to be absolutely perfect!” Lyney gushed as he darted up the stairs, but then he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. “Oh I forgot to say but, I’ll leave the dishes to you Lynette!” He called, as he started running up the stairs again. 

“But it’s your turn to wash the dishes…” Lynette voice dies down in the middle as she realizes her brother is already gone, probably blushing and kicking his feet while planning whatever strange plan he was going to use to wiggle into your heart. Though Lynette doubted he could, not with that face. With a heavy sigh she goes to the kitchen to do the dishes, wishing that the dishes would magically be already be done by the time she arrived to the sink. No such luck. 

If he pulled this sort of stunt again, Lynette was more than happy to tell you that her brother had two moles and a scar on his left butt cheek that resembled a smiley face. 

—— 

Lyney had been thinking about ways to ask you out all night. The result? A bunch of crumbled pieces of paper overflowing his rooms trash can and a pair of heavy dark circles under his eyes. 

Inviting you to a romantic candle lit dinner and make it rain red roses? “No, too corny” he thinks as he shakes his head. Maybe you’d like it if he simply sent you a letter with a confession in it? No that was too basic, at least for Lyney’s liking. 

A groan escapes his lips, as he scratches out the possibility of the other ideas being successful. 

He tries to recall every time you’ve talked to each other. But all he can remember was you describing a dream where you went on a date with some mystery guy in a field of marcotte’s on top of a cliff where you could clearly see the sea. He also vividly recalls you saying how much you would love to go on a date like that… 

Wait! He could use that dream!

He silently scolds himself in his mind, wondering how he hand’t thought of this before. 

Well if this didn’t work he’ll always have plan 235XI-2A to back him up!

(Or his third personal favorite, 682BS-5J)

———

Now all he had to do was ask you out. He was deep in thought, trying to come up with a place you might be. He’s checked the Opera house and the shopping district. Where else could you possibly be?

Until suddenly he feels a soft tap on his shoulder. 

“Gha!” Lyney screeches, jumping back, almost like a surprised cat. (You know, when the cats suddenly see a cucumber behind them while they’re eating and just like 2 meters.) 

“Sorry, did I give you a scare?” You chuckle as you hold your hand to your mouth, desperately trying to suppress the laugh in your throat. 

The magician looks composed now on the outside but really, he’s convinced that his heart is beating at a 100 miles per hour. 

“Well, if it isn’t the ever charming Y/N” he tries to play it off cool, and succeeds but if you listen closely enough you could hear the slight waver in his voice. 

“Oh drop the compliments, we’re close enough to address each other casually right?” You dramatically sight, feigning hurt as you put your hand up to your forehead. Like a lead actor about to faint. 

“But anyway, what brings you here?” You say switching your tone to a firmer one.

“I actually came here to find you.” He says, taking in a deep breath to hopefully calm his nerves.

“Really? Whatever did I do to deserve the audience of the great magician of Fontaine.”  You joke, clapping your hands together. “Is it Lynette? Did she want more tea-“

“Iacctuallywantedtoaskyouonadate-“ His rushed words go through your left ear and fall right through your right ear. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Lyney slow down. I couldn’t grasp a single word you just said.”  You tell him, his earlier sentence sounding more like a cursed language more than anything.  

You notice that his face is flushed in a deep shade of crimson out of embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, what I meant to say is, I was wondering if you were free this afternoon?” He says coughing into his fist, finally mustering up the courage to say something to cover up his mistake.

Now it’s your turn to get flustered, because as soon as he says that you’re getting butterflies in your stomach. Your mind blanks out for a second, all rational thoughts exiting your brain. The only thing you can hear at the moment is the loud thumping of your heart.

You somehow get a response out of your mouth, mirraculaously you didn’t stumble over your words! 

“Sure, dose 4 sound good to you?” You inquire, pulling out your pocket sized planner, double checking if you had any other plans for the evening. 

“Sounds good to me. I’ll pick you up at your house?” Lyney says timidly. Thanking all of the gods above and their grandmothers that you had accepted his date offer. 

“Mhm, I’m all right with that. See you then I guess?” You say as you start to head back, craining your neck backwards a little to give a small wave to Lyney. 

“Yeah.” Lyney says, standing there and waving at you like a fool. Slightly dazed still processing the fact that his long time crush, the person that he was hopelessly in love with was going on a date with him in 3 hours. 

———

The sun was setting, and you were in your room, waiting for a certain blonde to knock on your door. The ticking of your clock seems to be mocking your eagerness. 

It had just turned 4, and as if right on cue you hear a soft know on your brich door. 

Practically sprinting towards the door, you skid through the halls of your home and swing the door open. 

Lyney was, dressed in a plain ruffled dress shirt, paired with a harness made of black leather. His pants of course, were black too, simple with no designs in it. Topped off with simple black laced boots. It was weird to see him without his signature hat. Of course, it goes without saying Lyney looked good in his usual magician attire, but change is always welcome. 

“Ready to go?” He asks, snapping you out of your thoughts. 

“Yeah, It’s just that seeing you without your hat is a little odd, but nice odd. You know?” You muse, trailing your eyes over his figure. 

In response to that Lyney lets out a merry chuckle. 

“Before we go, can you put this blindfold on?” He asks, holding up a blindfold.

You look at the magician suspiciously and quirk a brow at him. “You’re not going to kidnap me right?” Slightly nervous about the whole surprise thing.

“Of course not! I just want to keep the inaction a surprise.” He says giving you a little comforting pat on the shoulder.

“Well, I suppose it’s all right. But I’m running away at the first sign of danger okay?” You sigh, reluctantly letting Lyney’s slender fingers tie the black silky blindfold over your eyes. 

“No peaking, okay?” He purrs as he tugs on your arm.

——

After a while of walking and talking Lyney halts to a stop. 

“We’re here.” He hums as he slowly unties the blindfold. 

It takes you a moment to adjust to your surroundings, since you had been blindfolded for like, what? 6 minutes? 

But as soon as your surroundings come into focus, the scene in front of you literally steals your breathe away. 

“You did all this for me” You gasp, looking around the venue which Lyney had guided you too. “Ta-da.” He sheepishly says, while softly scratching the back of his head. You two were in a felid of marcotte’s, the grass sways with every soft caress of the wind. Soon you noticed the meadow was located on a cliff, and below was the deep and ever beautiful ocean of Fontaine. The tidalga’s littered benethe made the ocean’s surface appear as if thousands of blue lights were iluminating the area. 

The wind was strong but not too strong, the mixed scent of the salty sea and the sweet aroma of the marcotte flowers smelled heavenly. You looked up to the Colbat blue sky. You could clearly see the stars, each star shining with a brilliant yellow. Under the delicate light of the moonlight, Lyney though you never looked more dreamy. For a moment you stood their in disbelief, it was as if this date was pulled straight from your dreams. The dream that you had told Lyney about. It was perfect. 

“I don’t even know what to say… It’s remarkable Lyney. I can’t believe that you remember me talking about my dream” You gush, as you feel the uncontrollable smile etching itself on your lips. 

“What’s a magician without his fair share of surprises?” Lyney chuckles as he hops over to you. 

A comfortable silence envelopes the two of you. The waves splashing quietly in the background. 

“You know, I actually invited you here to confess something to you…” Lyney bashfully says, his body restless as he prays to the heavens that this would go well. 

“Really? What is it” You say, as you tilt your head to the side. 

Why was his voice stuck in his throat? What was he doing? He practiced his lines millions if not billions of times in front of the mirror, so why couldn’t he do it now? 

You stare at him with a perplexed expression while leaning forward. As if you were eager to hear his confession. 

Oh screw the script, this magician’s improvising. 

“When I first met you, I was enamored by your laugh, your voice and no matter how much I thought on how to confess to you, no words could come close to describing how I truly feel for you.” Lyney paused for a moment to put together his thoughts for one moment. Trying to think of a worthy phrase to describe his undying adoration for you. He takes a deep breath in as he continues “If I had a flower for every time I had thought of you, I would only have one. Because not once have I stopped thinking about you since the day we met. I understand if you don’t reciprocate my feelings, yet my mind keeps lingering back to the thoughts of you and me together.” The words from his mouth spill over like a waterfall, genuine and poetic language flying towards you left and right. 

 “So, Y/N L/N, will you please accept my feelings?” He imagined the confession to be smooth and romantic, he promised himself to be calm and cool. Yet, here he was, face flushed and breathing irregular. Eagerly waiting for an answer. He curses himself for looking like an absolute idiot around you. 

In reality, it’s only been a few seconds, but to Lyney it felt like an eternity. His pupils flying on ever direction, his plans already clammy from the anxiety. 

“I would be delighted to” You beam, taking his hand in yours. 

“Really?” He says, eyes practically turning into stars, you could swear that they turned all glittery for one second. 

“Yes really” You smile, laughing at the usually suave and confident magician's expression. An expression you’ll probably remember for the rest of your life. 

You could audibly hear the loud sigh of relief he let out when you confirmed your answer. 

The two of you continue to stare at each other for a good minute. Then all of a sudden Lyney lets out a little snort. Then you chuckle a little. Before you know it, the meadow is filled with lively laughter. The two of you chasing each other over the rolling green grass, like a pair of idiots. Twirling each other around like one would in a royal ball. Giggles and snickers flowing through the surrounding area. 

Even better, the two of you acted out multiple of your favorite scenes in operas. One of them being the all-time famous Titanic pose (pretend titanic exists for the sake of my heart) Only problem being you nearly falling off the edge of the cliff and letting out a blood-curdling scream that sent the birds in the area desperately flapping their wings to find someplace that was maybe… less chaotic. 

Time flies when you’re with someone you like they say, turns out that old saying is true. Because by the time you both knew it, it was already 10PM

Exhausted, you both flop on the grass, face up to the shimmering stars. Intertwining fingers together both of you deicide to rest a little. 

“You know, you remind me of the moon.” Lyney suddenly says as he points to the glowing moon, breaking the silence. 

“Mhm, why is that?” You question, looking at Lyney with curious eyes. 

“If you're the moon, then I’ll gladly be your tide, for I will forever flow under your command. Following your ever wish and will. For you are my purpose, are you not?” Lyney hums, you hate how he can say something so… romantic (?) so casually. 

“You’re so corny.”  You sarcastically sigh, rolling your eyes. 

“But you love this corny guy right?” 

How could you say no to that face? 

——— 

Now by the time the cackling had settled down, the suns light was long gone and instead a pitch black darkness had replaced it. 

So being the gentleman Lyney is, he offered to walk you home. 

The two of you started talking about 

“Ah, we’re here now.” You say, a small amount of sadness laced in your voice. "Well I have to go now, have a safe trip back home." You sigh disappointed that the date had already ended.

“Oh! Before I forget.. here.” Lyney magically makes a marcotte flower appear in his hands with a snap of his fingers. 

“Think of it like a souvenir of our first date.” He giggled, twirling his hair. He seems somehow happier then you, even though you’re the one receiving the flower (?) 

Well that’s Lyney for you, I guess. 

“Lyney, is this from the field that we went to? “ You say happily, spinning the vermilion and yellow colored flower between your fingers. 

“Maybe.” He says while throwing in a playful wink.

You slowly open your door and just as about you’re about to go inside you look back. 

“I’ll be looking forward to our next date pretty boy.” You say pulling him in for a little peck on the cheek. (Y/N mega rizzler arc coming soon?!)

Just a moment ago you were the one being all shy, now Lyney’s here too stunned to speak. The combination of your lips on his cheek and that pet name? He swears you’ll be the death of him one day. 

You give him a little wave, before closing the door behind you with a click. 

Now if it were any normal person, they would just go home and celebrate their successful date. Celebrate the fact that they didn’t get brutally rejected. 

But no, this is Lyney. 

He ended up standing in front of your door for 15 minutes, just stroking the place where you had kissed him. 

He makes a mental note to put a bag over his cheek for the next few days. 

Call him unhygienic but hey, love can make one blind right? 

“Hey mom, look! There’s a guy standing in front of Y/N’s house!” A child passing by shouts, pointing at Lyney. 

“Shhh! Don’t look! We’ll report it to the melusines later…” The mother whispers as she ushers her son away from Lyney. 

Yeah, he should probably head home soon before anyone else mistakes him for a creepy stalker. 

——

Lyney walks home with a dopey little grin on his face, he opens the door to his house and swings the door open. Kicking his shoes off, he hurriedly runs to the living room where his siblings were most likely having dinner, feet practically skidding to a halt when he reaches to his destination. 

“Hey guess what-“  Lyney says his voice bubbling with excitement to tell his siblings about the successful confession (that he had spent days planning) 

“I’m sorry” Lynette says without looking up from her food. 

“What?” Lyney stands still for a few seconds as he tilts his head owlishly. 

“They rejected you right?” Lynette says as she takes a bite out of her mashed potatoes. 

“Uh no?” Lyney says visibly confused. 

“See I told you, that’s 50,000 mora Lynette.” Freminet sighs, standing up from the dinner table and trudging away to his room. 

“Damn it… I was so sure…” Lynette mutters as her cat tail droops down. Standing up and obviously looking disappointed, she puts her dishes away, walking back up stairs. 

“Wait? Lynnette? Fremi? 50,000 mora? Your eldest demands an explanation! Hey answer me!” Lyney says as he franticly looks around, only to be met with silence…

That is until Lynette pops her head from the stair case  with a devilish expression her face. 

“I’ll leave the dishes to you Lyney” She snickers as she hurries away,leaving Lyney to himself grumbling about how “he isn’t respected enough in this household”  and that “it was Lynettes turn to do the dishes” But he finds himself a blushing mess all over again when he recalls the events of tonight. 

Yeah, you probably shouldn’t tell him that you made the marcotte he gave you into a dry flower. Or else he might combust…

❀ a/n: GARRHHHH, this took so long. I apologize for the wait! Thank you so much for your support in part 1! I hope you enjoy this as much as you enjoyed part 1! Heads up to those who want to request anything please check my navigation to find my requests page!

Some of my other posts with Lyney...

❁ Lyney Hcs

❀ Taglist: @alisstaa,@a-traveling-void-human,@agentaspect,@chuu-o3o, @literaryhomos, @canuleavelol, @rebeccawinters, @just-a-ghost-named-echo, @angelofdarkness2, @emburning, @sketcheeee, @toramune, @kithewanderingme, @w9vyy, @karma-gisa, @mizokowashere, @azharyy,@auspicious-lilana, @n8mareee, @sammybeefangirls

@cat-toess 2023 please do not plagiarize or copy on other sites <3 Reblogs are appreciated, but please give credit :D if you have feedback please refrain from being offensive <3

#lyney x reader #cat-toess writes! #lyney #genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagine #lyney genshin #lyney x you #lynette #fremitet #gn!reader #gn!y/n #gn!mc

[bunnakit]

Tharn should have known better.

Peace and happiness weren’t for him. 

Why don’t you move in with me so we can be together for all time? 

He felt his sliver of peace slip away as his fingers trailed across Phaya’s jaw, his body unresponsive and rapidly cooling. He felt his happiness shrivel and blacken as he used the entire force of his body to press his curled hand against Phaya’s sternum. He repeated the motions again and again; wasn’t one of the definitions of insanity to do the same thing again and again and expect different results? 

Tharn was familiar with insanity.

He didn’t feel the scream of desperation that erupted from his throat, didn’t feel anything but the press of sodden clothes and a too-still body against his chest as he gathered Phaya into his arms. He frantically tried to ignore the way Phaya felt so similar to the corpse they’d examined at the crime scene, pushed the idea back as hard as he could, but he couldn’t free himself entirely from the haunting litany of thoughts. He curled his fingers tighter against Phaya’s shoulders and wished he could interlace their veins, their lungs, their entire bodies so that he may breathe for him. Their hearts were already entwined, their bodies already knew one another. It should have been easy.   

“Please!” 

Tharn didn’t know if he was begging Phaya to open his eyes, for help, or perhaps for some release from the karmic agony he found himself in. 

He’d give anything to go back - Back to last night with Phaya warm and content, curled against his back and pressing the softest kiss into his shoulder. Back to their fight when he’d had every opportunity to push Phaya away for good. To Nong Kai, before they’d learned the true breadth of their connection. To the bar where he’d leaned against Phaya instinctively at the low croon of his voice (a clarion call that had immediately ignited every nerve in his body.) 

He never should have met Phaya. 

Please don’t take him from me. 

His inner voice felt like it resonated in his chest, as if a piece of his spirit screamed alongside him and raged against the confines of his ribs. If coughing up his soul could save Phaya he’d do it in an instant, he’d pay any price to right his wrongs. He dropped a hand to Phaya’s as he shouted again, fairly certain he was still forming coherent words. Yai hadn’t been far. Yai would come, wouldn’t he? 

Tharn’s fingers curled around Phaya’s as he dropped his forehead to his shoulder, wailing his heartache and fear against the chilled skin. Phaya had to wake up. He wasn’t sure he could survive any alternative.

You promised me you wouldn’t go anywhere. 

Time felt mercurial; far too quick and far too slow all at once, as if his every inhale was merely the gentle tick of the second hand on a clock. He pressed his lips to Phaya’s knuckles and swallowed a wracking sob. He tried to push away the memory of the way these hands had trailed across every curve of his body as if charting a map meant only for Phaya’s gaze. 

“Anybody, please help!” 

If Phaya came back, if breath filled his lungs and life thrummed in his veins, Tharn would walk away. He would find a way to leave, to ensure Phaya never saw him again and was never again in danger simply for having the misfortune of loving him. He could learn to live with only half of his heart, vestigial as it would be without Phaya anyway.

I didn’t take care of you. I didn’t protect you. I don’t deserve you. 

And why had he ever thought love was for him? He’d known better; only a fool needed to learn the same lesson twice. It took a special brand of ineptitude to be the cause of so much death and still crave the soft embrace of love. He was crafted like the Pong Pong tree: benign and unassuming from afar but fatal once the seeds were ingested. His love was every bit as poisonous. 

Tharn wrapped his arms around Phaya’s shoulders and cradled him close, an embrace of a different kind. He’d give anything to hold him one more time, to feel his too-sweet kisses against his cheeks, to have another goodnight kiss stolen from his lips. He had wondered if a goodnight tasted like a goodbye but he now knew they couldn’t be more different; one all blooming warmth and sweetness, the other withering cold and bitterness. 

“Phaya!” 

Please wake up. Please come back to me. 

(disclaimer: none of this is from the novel, i haven’t read the novel, i just like doing character studies of them and rotating them in my head like a skyrim loading screen)

#the sign #the sign the series #phayatharn #bunn writes #character study #episode 8 #SORRY MY FRIENDS #(i'm lying) #bunn gifs

[starofkhaenriah]

[part 1] [part 2] part 3:

Dear Master Kaeya,

Dawn Winery requests the presence of the Cavalry Captain tomorrow evening. An important discussion will be held over dinner, and your family is invited to partake in the meal alongside you. 

Regards,

Adelinde and D

P.S. Feel free to dress comfortably. No need for formalities. 

The moment Adelinde sent that letter, Diluc began to clean the mansion like a maniac. She’s never seen anything quite like it. It’s not that Master Diluc has been an unclean young man, but the fervor with which he cleans has never reached anywhere near the fever pitch it lingers at now.

“Adelinde,” Diluc calls across the room. “What should we do about the vase?”

“The vase? Is something the matter with it?” Stretching to replace a book on the shelf, Adelinde scrunches her eyebrows with the exertion. Diluc runs up behind her, reaching to slot the book in place for her.

When did he grow so big and responsible? She knows it’s been a while - this was not an overnight transformation. Once in a while, though, she’s struck with the realization all over again. 

“I just don’t want him to see it.” 

On the other hand, he’s still as adorable as she recalls. “He’s already seen it, Master Diluc,” she reminds him. “He’s aware you kept it.” The way he hovered over her shoulder while she wrote the invitation should’ve been indicative enough. It was just like when he and Master Kaeya watched her write their father’s birthday card in the days before they could write it themselves. “If anything,” she continues on the topic of the vase, “he’ll give you more trouble if he’s seen you’ve moved it.”

After a moment’s pause, Diluc agrees. “Good point.”

-

Kaeya is nervous. He has no reason to be this nervous, but he is.

He’s greeted several neighbors by the wrong name, had to return home for several things he’s forgotten, and tripped over his own feet walking out of the Mondstadt gate - a trek he has made countless times before. 

You’re beside him, of course, in the same clothes you wore as he fell in love with you. It’s the outfit of his savior, his lifeline, his love. 

Most importantly, he has not stopped talking.

“- and I can’t believe he’s kept the vase, to be honest. It was the ugliest thing I could find - uglier than his face, but you know that. You’ve seen the vase. You know, he even put flowers in it once. Baffled me. Although it might’ve been Adelinde, honestly…”

You noticed this pattern fairly early on. When you’d first set out together, it pushed you ever further to stabbing him and leaving his corpse in the woods. You were nervous back then too, and the incessant nonsense didn’t help.

Now, though, you smile fondly. 

Kaeya doesn’t know that you know, but his nervous rambling is almost always about Diluc. Has been, from the very beginning.

He doesn’t know either that he’s fulfilling your dream at this very moment. For all that you’ve done to support Kaeya, there was nothing you could do to fill the Diluc-shaped hole in his heart. 

The only person who can has finally walked back into his life, and you hope he’s here to stay. 

Too quickly and at long last, you and Kaeya stand on the cliff overlooking the winery. His hand tightens around yours. The sight is familiar, as fond and tortuous to you as it is to him. After all, the pair of you are connected now. Bound in a way you would never be to any other.

This very soil under your feet bound the story just as much. 

This was the hill on which Kaeya first revealed his vulnerability to you.

Your first kiss.

The first time you saw him cry.

Each installment of his life that he decided to tell you about - every piece of his soul handed over. 

The exchange of rings that bound you for life.

It has to be here. He’d insisted. Both of my fathers and the woman who raised me… They would both be watching, if it was here. I want them to see this.

It all flits through your mind like a movie, and Kaeya kisses the back of your hand and tugging you along, out of your memories and into the grapevines. 

-

Diluc had been nervous in your home, knees shaking like a newborn dear. It’s clear from his easy stance, though, that he’s in total control of this environment. There’s no thought involved in the way he maneuvers his home, not the way he was on edge for everything in your home. 

You greet him at the door with a hug. Kaeya pushes between you to get his own hug in, punctuating it by shoving the basket of food into Diluc’s arm’s before he can say much else. 

“What’s this?” Diluc reorients the basket in his hands so none of it spills over. “I told you Adelinde was cooking.”

“It’s for you.” Kaeya throws over his shoulder as he walks away. “Loser.” 

The moment Kaeya is in reach of the myriad attendants, he is swarmed. You can see him still, the top of his blue-haired head staying above everyone else. Watching him now, you wonder how he must’ve felt, forcefully separated from all of this. 

“He cooked all last night,” you tell your brother-in-law. “He knew Adelinde would cook his favorites.”

At a loss for words, Diluc manages a measly, “Oh.” You see the gleam in his eyes, though. He and Kaeya can harp about their differences all day, but you know better. This piece of information will be tucked away for future teasing. “Kaeya!” he yells. “Dining room, now!”

“Master Diluc,” your husband drawls. “You don’t give me orders anymore.” 

“Do you want dinner or not?”

“No need to be so aggressive.”

“If you take long enough, I’ll bring all your childhood artifacts to show your dear wife… And you know exactly which ones I’ll get.”

“Can you show them to me anyway?” You ask. 

Kaeya raises his eyebrows at you. “Why is it that you always ally yourself with Diluc, given the chance?”

“So he’ll give me discounts to fund your love for wine, sweetie.” Conspiratorially, you tell Diluc, “I think he might love wine more than me.”

“Hey!”

“Tell me I’m wrong. Look me in the eyes and tell me I’m wrong, Kaeya.”

Stalking up to you, Kaeya places both hands on your shoulders and glares into your face. “I love you more than wine.” 

Beside you, Diluc slowly claps, a smirk plastered across his face. “Bravo. Now get your ass in the dining room. Your womb eviction dinner is in there.”

“... Did you just say-”

“Womb eviction? Yes.”

“... Diluc, even I can’t support you for that one,” you say. “The word birthday exists.”

“Oh, come on. It was funny.”

“No.”

“Is it too late to take back that food basket? I don’t think you deserve it anymore,” Kaeya mutters.

“It’s not too late for me to get Mr. Snuffles. He’s still on your nightstand.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Excuse me boys, I need to go to the bathroom.”

Kaeya grabs your arm. “You’re just going up to my room.”

“And what if I am?”

“Don’t.”

“At this point in time, I’ve seen you make a fool of yourself far more than Diluc could show me. It really wouldn’t change my opinion about you.”

“Time to cash in my birthday boy wish: Don’t.”

“Oh? I was sure there was something else you were waiting to use that for.”

“You’re both disgusting.” Diluc snorts. “Come eat, and get out of my house.”

“It’s my house as much as yours.”

“Not really, Kaeya.”

“Tell that to the chefs. I can smell all my favorites in there - which means they made none of yours.”

“They make my favorites every other day of the week. Of the year, even.”

“And yet-”

Mid-sentence, the doors to the dining room open. Your husband is cut off by streamers and poppers filling the air in cacophonous excitement.

“Happy birthday, Master Kaeya!” The staff of Dawn Winery holler at him. 

No one acknowledges the tears in his eyes.

-

After dinner, the brothers retreat in their tipsy stupor to have another heart to heart. You help Adelinde clear up the mess left by the celebration. 

“Thank you,” she says, smiling softly at you. “For everything.”

“Oh, it was no problem. Thank you for hosting!”

“Not that,” she says. “Thank you for taking care of Kaeya.”

“Even less of a problem,” you say. “I mean, it is a bit of a problem - he can be so insufferable sometimes - but I can’t do it any other way anymore.”

[thanks for reading! join my writing discord if you wanna!]

#genshin x reader #genshin fluff #kaeya fluff #kaeya x reader #kaeya and diluc

[101-blueberry-101]

Shadow and Stone

ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: Gyomei Himejima x Reader

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: none

ℝ𝕖𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕕: no

"please...someone help me"

"hold on!"

that was the day I met him. Sanemi Shinazugawa, the wind pillar, had saved me from what he called a 'demon'. I was sixteen at the time and no longer had anywhere to go. so.. I followed him home.

"will you stop following me!" he yelled as I fell from a tree.

"how'd you know I was there?" I got up and dusted myself off as he remained quiet and continued to walk. "hmm? hey wait! I got some questions for you"

I ran up to him as he remained silent and slightly sped up. "how'd you do that cool swooshy thing?" I said as i waved my hands around.

"it's not just some swooshy thing! its called wind breathing now fuck off!" 'jeez what a temper'

"c'mon, don't be like that" I said clearly making him more pissed off than he already was.

"will you just fuck off! I dont want your praises or whatever so get lost!" ... is he for real

"psh, I’m not here to praise you. I want you to teach. me" 'god, this guy honestly though I was gonna praise him'

"hah! yeah right! o bother somebody else"

I didn't. I actually continued to follow him and watch him train, he made the rude obnoxious comment every now and then but he never made a move to et rid of me.

after about a year, he actually started to teach me about demons and slayers, breathing techniques and total concentration breathing and final selection. I could never properly master wind breathing that's when I met this beautiful lady called Mitsuri Kanroji.

"so you saying that I could potentially develop my own breathing technique"

"yeah! you can! once you learn one breathing technique, you can make your own based off that one!" she said as she stuffed her moth full of food.

finally, after another year I went to final selection and absolutely aced it! soon enough I made my way up to one of the top tiers in the demon slayer corpse!

all I had to do was defeat an uppermoon or a lowermoon and I could finally become a hashira.

But I never wanted to become a hashira like this.

“RENGOKU!” We had defeated a lowermoon yet standing in our way was uppermoon 3.

it all happened so fast one minute he was there with his hand straight through Rengoku the next tanjiro was slicing his arm off.

“YOU COWARD! YOU THINK YOUVE WON! BUT DEMON SLAYERS ARE ALWAYS FIGHTING IN THE NIGHT WHERE YOU HAVE THE UPPER HAND! YOU COWARD! YOU HAVENT WON! RENGOKU WON THIS BATTLE! AHHHHHHH” Tanjiro shouted insults to him as he ran away like the coward he was.

“y/n” I walked over to him. “I really do hope you become a hashira. You have clearly proven yourself today that you are worthy”

‘I’m really not though’

“everyone, I’d like you to meat the Shadow Hashira” Oyakata-sama always spoke in such a soothing way. But it didn’t stop me from thinking that I didn’t belong here

“What a poor soul” a man said as he rubbed his hands together. “I’ll pray for you”

“Thank you” and with that the annual hashira meeting began

“y/n. Gyomei I’d like you to stay for a moment” Oyakata-sama said as everyone else left.

“There is reason to believe that the lowermoons have been dismantled and that only the upper moons remain” he began and a kusagai crow flew into the room.

“but thanks to my messenger there is reason to believe that a lower moon has been hiding out near (your old village)”

“what! Sorry.” I quickly sat back down as thoughts raced through my mind.

there maybe no one left for me at my home, but still the towns folk were very nice to me.

“yes it is sad indeed, so I have decided to send you two. Hopefully this will help you get aquatinted with your fellow hashira y/n”

and with that we set off on our journey. “We’re catching a train?” I asked

“yes, if you want we can find another form of transport” I will admit I’d hoped that I never had to go on a train again, but I guess I was wrong. “no it’s ok. I’ll manage” almost no words were exchanged on our voyage. The trip took at least 4 hours and it was already getting late. I tried so hard to not fall asleep, in fear of being trapped in a dream once again.

“it’s ok” I flinched at the sudden noise. “You can sleep, I will make sure nothing hurts you, or these passengers”

I’ve only known this guy for a few hours yet I trust him with my life.

“thank you” and soon enough I fell into a peaceful slumber with his large happi draped over my shoulders

#gyomei himejima #gyomei x reader #genya shinazugawa #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #anime #shinazuawa #xreader #oneshot #fem reader #sanemi shinaguzawa

[violetueur-archive]

A gift for @detonizing​ A companion piece to THIS Paired with MUSIC for added effect

It’s only after she’s in the room alone with him, that the tears finally come. The moment the door clicks shut her features twists, expression so pinched tight that it makes the muscles in her face ache, a headache blooming behind her forehead as the sheer force of agony finally hits her. It must be ugly. Enough that he’d make fun of her if he could see it. Feet refuse to cooperate, planted firmly just passed the threshold, as her gaze finds the bed. Small and clinical, lined with cream colored sheets. They are alone now, in this room that cannot decide what to be. Soft blue paint and landscape paintings line the walls in an attempt to be comforting that merely comes off impersonal. He lays on a mattress now, instead of the dirt. Nicolette only knows she’s crying by the way her vision swims, eyes burning like they’ve been rubbed with salt. She feels it on her cheeks, tastes it in the corners of her lips, yet the room remains eerily silent, as if filled with more than one corpse. Maybe in a way, it is.

This is where she’s come to die.

Even if her body will walk out of here fully alive, something inside her has already been broken beyond repair. The ever-present void in her heart has become a blackhole, pulling everything within. What use does she have for a useless instrument such as this? It has done her no favors— this much has been made clear, from the way it tears a hole through her very chest, as if desperate to get out... seeking the thing that helped it work again, after being broken once before. But that thing is gone, and so she supposes this must be a funeral, as well as a goodbye. Hers, before his. She will leave it here, with him, where it belongs. A living corpse has no need for a heart, for a soul, for anything at all, but cold emptiness. 

She moves without meaning to, and before she knows it her legs have carried her to the bedside. Both eyes stare down at his still form, refusing to go anywhere else even though she cannot bear to look at him. He seems peaceful, as if asleep, face wiped clean and features relaxed, but she knows the proof of his condition lies just beneath the blanket. It’s too soon for the damage to be hidden— they have not yet taken his body and dressed him in his finest suit, nor brushed his skin to look warm and alive. He looks peaceful, but also cold. He does not look anything else, but dead. This will be the image that haunts her forever, she thinks. She will never forget it.

The absence of life, or the feeling of his blood on her hands ( her arms, her chest, her face, her mouth— ).

When scarred fingers reach out to touch, his flesh is cool and solid. It’s what she expected, and yet it adds a new weight, like a punch to the gut that knocks all the air from her lungs. He doesn’t even feel human, anymore. It’s too soon. To fast. It’s all happening too quickly, and she can’t keep up. He feels so far away, even though he’s only right in front of her, though... she supposes in reality, he’s already somewhere she cannot reach. Her arms find their away around him anyway and she leans down over the bed, trying her best not to disturb his body as both arms wrap around his shoulders. Her forehead rests against his temple and for a moment it’s like she’s in that field again, holding him close. Like she’s the only thing keeping him from collapsing into nothing— a pillar he can lean on for support that will never forsake him. Never fail him. But she did. And this was the price she paid for it.

Both arms tremble as they hug him closer, and Nicolette stills as it presses their chests together, forcing out air from his lungs. It leaves his mouth like an exhale, right next to her ear. She knows it means nothing. That it’s just a natural reaction. But the sound fills the empty space, and it tears her asunder. She does it again. And again. And then once more, pulling away slightly before hugging him tightly, repeating. It’s like he’s breathing, there beneath her. It feels wrong, a little twisted even, enough to make her sick with guilt. The hero knows she’s pathetic, for clinging to that facsimile sound of life, but she clings all the same until the tears have long started to dry upon her cheeks.

With eyes closed, it’s like she can pretend that none of this is real. It’s easy to ignore what’s right there in front of you, as long as you cannot see it. Bloodletter knows this best of all, because that has always been the quickest solution to her problems. She does not look directly at the things that hurt, for there has always been many and it has always been too much. There has never been anywhere for that pain to go but inward, pushed deep and sealed tight so that it might remain there forever. Compartmentalizing was an early developed skill, refined and perfected since the beginning of a torturous youth— it might’ve been the only thing that got her through it, the only reason she was still here. Right now... Nicolette almost wishes it hadn’t. Suddenly the trauma of that past that once seemed so unbearably large and soul-crushing is nothing compared to the feeling that sits within her chest, now. It is collapsing her lungs, rotting her from the inside out, and she knows without a shadow of doubt as she cradles this body in her arms:

❛ This is the thing that will destroys me. ❜ 

It is not a defeat on the battlefield or a death at the hands of a villain. It is a vicious and brutal hallowing of her very being. To have her insides carved away, leaving nothing but vacant space in its wake. Who would’ve thought that emptiness could be the thing that finally killed her? The thing that hurt her, most of all. No physical wound could bleed like this. No phantom pain of a scar could ache so deep. She had always known that life was unfair; being a child orphaned through untimely death and living through what felt like a punishment for surviving, she had learned it young. The world was cruel and bleak. Not even a society of heroes could change that. All they did was hide the ugliness beneath a thin sheet of hope— that if the Gods above would not heed the prayers of mortals, the ones blessed with power could be worshipped in their place.

She has never once believed in such foolish things, yet she finds herself begging, anyway. Hunched over the bed and clinging to a corpse, the hero pleads to Gods that will not listen and heroes that are only human, for a miracle. Her silent mourning has been given a voice once again as desperate wailing fills the room, a perfect mimicry of the moment she’d caught his bleeding body in her arms and felt the world collapse around her, echoing with the screaming of a banshee. How his parting words haunted her even now— an apology towards the final person to ever betray him through failure. One last joke, a sadistic mockery pointing out just how tragically incompetent she truly was. Incapable of saving herself, so he’d gone it down it for her, time and time again.

Perhaps it had been pure selfishness that pushed her to latch onto him, in the beginning. Like a mother bird imprinting on a child that was not her own. She had seen herself in Katsuki, and it was a reflection she hated to see, yet could not look away from. Despite being a hero, Nicolette had never quite wanted to save anyone the way she had wanted to save him. He was so deserving of it, but the world was unfair to him, as it had been unfair to her. It should be her body laying here. It should be her story coming to a close. There isn’t a single fucking thing she can offer to anyone else, anymore. ❝ Please... please, I can’t— ❞ It’s nothing but a broken sob, ❝ I can’t do this... I’m not good like him. I’m not strong... I’m not— ❞ I’m not enough. I have never been enough. ❝ I’m sorry... I’m sorry— please don't do this to me, please-- !! ❞ But it has already been done.

It’s over.

Muffled voices can be heard from the hallway, and Nicolette knows that her time is up. She is not so selfish as to remain here while others wait in queue to mourn. It’s fine, anyway. She has nothing left to give. This is the second and last time that Nicolette will ever let him go, and it is not by pitying hands that forcefully tear him from her desperately clinging arms. This time, when she lets him go, it with a mechanical slowness that speaks not of acceptance, but meaningless defeat. Her expression falls to cold apathy as her gaze lingers on his face for a final moment. When she leaves the room, a sound like shattering glass is the last thing she hears. And then, she is gone.

            Bakugou Katsuki is dead.                         What else is there to say?

#detonizing #i don't even really know what to say #im so angry at you for writing that still #reading your thing and writing this brought forth so much grief-related trauma #i think im more mentally ill after this but it was cathartic too #some acts/experiences and a lot of the feelings in this are from personal experiences #ah man.... this is bummer city fr #grief tw// #death tw// #↳ BONDS ; KATSUKI BAKUGOU || detonizing ❛ the struggle you are up against makes you what you are ❜ #long post #↳ VERSE ; BNHA: HERO || ❛ we gladiate / but we’re really fighting ourselves ❜

[wolfstarr13]

soon you’ll get better

a/n: yes i know i’ve already written a poem with this title but idc

trigger warnings for mentions of violence, nightmares, mentions of war, mentions of possession, allusions to racism

they all had nightmares. children screaming as blood seeped out of wounds, corpses flying to the ground, the hiss of a snake as it sinks its teeth into skin.

but most of all, they dreamed of him.

ginny would wake up screaming from the memories of the chamber, laced with his cries of victory while the giant held the corpse of a hero. she would dream of his face as he wrote in the diary, would dream of his smile as she walked into the chamber, malicious and triumphant. when she woke up, sometimes she would wonder how the snake felt as it consumed him, ruining what was left of a soul. other times, she would reach for harry. she would reach for warmth, for anything that wasn’t cold, evil reminders of him. she could never say his name. the letters would twist themselves into something that was more like a sob than a word.

hermione wasn’t much better. sometimes she felt like that word on her arm was the only thing there, only thing that people saw. as if she was tethered to the letters that burnt into her. when she first got her job at the ministry, she thought she was prepared for the odd looks from the purebloods, she thought she knew what was coming. but with every look, hermione began to question if she was even worth being there. there were times that not even ron could help her. he tried his best but she would cry and cry until silence felt unnatural. when rose was born, ron made her promise that she wouldn’t see herself as anything less than a hero. she had saved the world (but, he always added, he did the majority of the world-saving — this always earned a laugh from rose). when rose was a toddler, she would sneak into her parents room if ron was helping at the joke shop after hours, and cuddle into the crook of hermione’s arm. she would compare how much she loves hermione to chocolate frogs (chocolate frogs would generally win) and ask hermione to read to her. it left hermione wondering if toddlers have some intuition that she didn’t. could they tell when she was on the edge of breaking?

the snake chased ron down the stairs and he gripped hermione’s hand harder. he tried not to show the fear on his face once they dove into the pile of rubble. just as the snakes teeth hit them, he woke up.

there was always a puddle of sweat on the pillow after his nightmares. that’s how hermione know it was bad. since she was sleeping less, she would wake him and lie with her head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heart and convince herself that he wasn’t going anywhere. ron would hold her, shaking and hyperventilating as the adrenaline of the dream wore off. he would hold rose and hugo as well, telling himself that they’ll all be together for as long as he lives.

nothing much changed for harry, the nightmares and the guilt only intensified. as soon as the dreams ended, he would find ginny and hold her, the sound of her breathing and the feel of her hair against him helped ward off the demons. he knew she had nightmares too. he felt heavier guilt for that than anything else. he plagued the love of his life with blood, with trauma. he was the reason riddle had so much power over her. he was the reason she was fighting in that war. it was helpless, he knew that. ginny was the bravest person he knew and she would have had her fair share of suffering even if he hadn’t been in her life, still only a boy in photos and articles. he wondered what his parents would think, if they knew what he was thinking. would they be proud of him for sacrificing himself, for giving up a life not lived? in some part of harry’s head, he knows they are there, and he knows they love him. the demons and the dementors in his memories cloud that part, though. they paint it black with pain and red with blood.

#fanfiction #my writing #i made this #harry potter #ptsd #hermione granger #trigger warnings #ron weasley #ginny weasley #rose granger weasley #fanfic

[aggravatetheaxe]

Hi there! I was wondering if I could request an imagine where a victim “escapes” from the slashers and hurts s/o in the process. What would the slashers do during and after? Thank you!!

Hi! I wasn't sure which slashers you wanted for this, so I put my list into a randomizer and went with the first 5!

Walter Sullivan

Thomas Hewitt

Jason Voorhees

Deacon Billings (OC Ghostface)

Erik ("The Phantom")

SLASHERS WHOSE VICTIM HURTS THEIR S/O

cw: mentions of suicide, reader being injured/in mortal peril, mentions of torture and killing etc etc

--

Walter Sullivan

Oh no. Oh dear.

You are possibly the only good, pure thing in this world or the Otherworld and someone hurt you? Walter is ... not happy, to put it lightly. The only person who should ever hurt you is him, and he won't do that unless it's for your own good.

This only enforces his belief that the world and everyone in it are monstrous. It drives home the truth he's already convinced of - this existence in terrible and torturous and needs to be destroyed if anything holy is ever going to be allowed to blossom again.

Whether The Victim is pre- or post- Walter's suicide, he's already stopping at nothing to go after them. He doesn't view it as personal, he doesn't hold any particular hatred for most (most) of his victims; they're simply links in a chain. But this person, the one who hurt you ... it's personal. They'll die in absolute agony.

If the victim in question is pre-suicide, Walter will bring them down and find somewhere to keep them for later. This will not be a quick death.

While they're bound/gagged or knocked out, he'll check on you. You're special, possibly even the Mother Reborn, and he can't let you die until the time is right. If you're seriously injured, he'll see to it that you're taken to the hospital, and pray to a dead God if he has to that you'll be alright. If you're not seriously injured, he'll do his best to patch you up - he lived on the streets for many years and had to take care of himself, so he knows basic first aid.

Once he's certain you're safe, he will put you somewhere where you won't witness what he's about to do. Even if you want to see it, he'll insist you stay hidden, saying the sinner doesn't deserve to be in your presence. You'll have to really convince him if for some reason you want to watch.

Their torture will depend on what they did to you. If it was just a few scrapes and cuts, he'll let them feel every ounce of pain before they die. If they really hurt you, their torture will be prolonged. In his mind, and according to his religion, death is a sacred sacrament, and this evil being doesn't deserve its release. If they did something to seriously traumatize and/or sully you ... the crime scene he leaves behind is going to be grisly, to put it lightly.

If the victim in question is post-suicide, the results will be similar, but he has absolute control over the Otherworld - and he will utilize that. He will have his creations take care of you and keep you somewhere safe ... they may be terrifying, but they won't hurt you unless he wills it. As for the victim, he can twist them into their worst nightmares over and over again before killing them. He will make them see their wrongdoings and pay for their evil. They will beg for mercy and there will be none.

After it all, he will simply move onto the next one, with you somewhere safe ... until it's time. Until it's time. You are so perfect.

Thomas Hewitt

Dammit. If he'd just been quicker or smarter, he could have caught them before they escaped and hurt you. He immediately blames himself.

There's no time to beat himself up over it, though. He briefly checks to make sure you're not bleeding from anywhere vital and sends you (or locks you up) somewhere safe before going after the victim. You're on your own for first aid for now - unless you're literally dying, he can't let them leave the property.

If you are literally dying, he's staying and doing all he can to help you. But if Hoyt yells, he may have to pawn you off on someone else and hope they do a good job taking care of you. He'll hold your face and give you tender kisses goodbye - whether you want them or not - because this might be the last time he ever sees you.

He chases the victim in a fever, much more erratic than you would expect from him. He's faster, less careful, more inclined to put himself at risk just to get a swing in at them. It's not generally anything personal when he kills someone - it's something he does for the good of his family, and because he was told to. This one he's not interested in saving for meat. They hurt you. You, his special person. He's going to grind them into the mud, and he's not even going to let Hoyt have a go at them.

Sometimes, sometimes, he struggles to see the animals in his victims. But this one ... he doesn't even feel the urge to twist them into an animal. That's a whole human, an evil one, one he wants to kill. It's a different feeling for him.

Once it's all over and everything's calmed down, he's rushing directly to your side. People don't come around all too often, so he's comfortable putting down the chainsaw for now. He neglects any skin projects he planned and lets someone else do the butchering, focusing on taking care of you, especially if you're seriously injured and put up in bed.

If you're not as seriously injured and tell him you're fine, he's still keeping an eye on you ... and making sure you're well-fed. You've been through a lot and it was all his fault. He doesn't want you to be exposed like that again. Next time someone comes around, he'll insist you hide somewhere.

Jason Voorhees

It's a toss up whether or not he'll actually notice you're hurt. Not because he doesn't care or anything, but because Camp Crystal Lake is a lot of ground to cover and there's a low chance he'll be in the same area as you at any given time.

For this imagine, though, let's assume you've found your way to him or he's sensed you're in trouble and has rushed to you.

You were supposed to be safe in the cabin, so he's a little irritated that you wandered out, but that's completely overshadowed when he realizes you're hurt. He stops everything he's doing and clinically and thoroughly pats you down, identifying every solitary injury.

Just like his mother before him, he is a vengeful soul, so he is not letting this go even if you're just scraped or bruised. If you are critically injured, he'll at least get you to the cabin and get a tourniquet on you.

Otherwise, he leaves you behind. Not very mindful, but you should know that he wants you to get back to the cabin or at least stay out of the way. He is no longer thinking of you - he has established his target and knows what he has to do. He's laser focused and decisive as he stalks after them, using anything at his disposal to get to them.

Their death is quick - he doesn't play around - but he has a lingering sense of irony and playfulness. If there's a particularly interesting weapon nearby, he'll take them out with that; or perhaps he'll hurt them in the way they hurt you, just, you know ... more fatal. And a lot gorier.

After that, he'll move onto their friends, until every last one is dead. Once his objective is completed, he is returning to you directly and finishing the job of patching you up.

He can't help but feel a little guilty that you were hurt. You shouldn't have left the cabin, true, but perhaps he should have been watching for you. He should have locked you up. Pamela might say rude things in his head. Then again, she might comfort him. If she doesn't like you, maybe she'll even wish he'd left you to die.

Deacon Billings (OC Ghostface)

Well ... you usually keep him around to scare off other Ghostfaces - something he's very handy at - but you don't usually run into trouble with his victims.

He doesn't really tell you to go anywhere in particular when he's killing. He knows you can take care of yourself. But now he feels stupid for not having a backup plan. Of course some asshole was gonna eventually identify you as his loved one and try to get cute. He should've had something prepared for that.

But, if he's good at anything, it's improvising. He skids into whatever room you're in, drops his weapon, and pulls his mask off right away to check you over. If you're only mildly injured, he's visibly relieved, and tells you to stay put while he deals with whomever hurt you. If you're more seriously injured, he'll grab your phone and shove it in your hand. "Get in the car, get the fuck out of here. Drive to the emergency room if you have to, just leave."

If you're unable to drive, he'll make you call emergency services - or call them for you, if he has to. The game is over, he's done playing; this isn't fun if he's not winning. Everyone in this place is gonna be dead and he'll be long gone by the time the ambulance shows up for you.

The one who hurt you is going to get an extra special surprise. A particularly grisly death, and a bunch of selfies/short videos of Ghostface with the corpse - taken with the victim's own phone, posted to their instagram, tiktok, facebook, sent to any discord groups, and any other social media they have. If he has the time, he'll even make them in meme formats (definitely posting with meme captions, the fucking troll). He'll probably send a copy to you as a "hey, look what I did!"

If there are survivors, especially if that survivor is the one who hurt you, you better believe he is immediately doxxing them. Since he's had a little time to cool down, he might even play the long game, maybe catfishing and blackmailing them. Ruining their pathetic little life even further would be pretty fun. In the end, though, they'll die like all the others.

When all is said and done, he's going to be there for you, helping you recover any way he can. He'd suggest rest (for an amount of time relative to your injury), some movies and candy, maybe some video games. And time spent with your favorite Ghostface, of course, right?

He'll never forget what happened, though. Even though the person is dead, he'll be stewing and pissed off about it for a long, long time. And he won't let something like that happen again, or at least, not without a contingency plan in place.

The hash mark/tally mark he stitches into his costume to symbolize this kill is gonna be twice as long and large as the others, maybe in the place you got hurt as a reminder.

Erik

You already know what's about to happen.

If anyone so much as hurts your feelings they're getting menaced and receiving a strongly worded letter - actually physically harming you? That's suicide.

If he can't immediately kill this person, or if you're seriously injured, his primary objective is helping/comforting you. He has to push down a lot of wrath to do it ... every instinct tells him to immediately dispatch the fiend responsible ... but you are more important to him than anything in this world, even revenge. He will administer any first aid you need and may even drug you with ether to ensure you rest.

Don't think that means your attacker is off the hook, though. As soon as he decides you're well enough, he will put you somewhere safe - lock you away if he has to - and kill them. His preferred method is the Punjab lasso, but if they did something particularly egregious, he'll knock them out and take them to his torture chamber. They have a lesson to learn before they go to Hades.

Another option is, like Deacon, playing the long game ... playing with his food, stalking them, making them live in fear before they die. But he has a lot of wrath in that skinny little body, so it's a toss up as to whether or not he'll actually be able to follow through with that for very long. It depends on his mood, really!

He will keep the killing and torture hidden from you, of course ... unless you express an interest in seeing the vengeance being carried out. He would be worried for you, however, and advise against it. Those sights are not for the faint of heart, and certainly not for someone as beautiful and good as you.

Once all is said and done, it's as if it never happened. As if that person never existed! What a happy thought! Sometimes you even think Erik has completely forgotten the incident ... until he's stalking another victim and he locks you away again, and you remember you are always on his mind. He will never, never let that happen to you again.

#imagines #walter sullivan #walter sullivan x reader #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt x you #jason voorhees #jason voorhees x reader #jason voorhees x you #ghostface #ghostface x reader #ghostface x you #erik the phantom #phantom x reader #slasher imagines #slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher community

[eligaxy]

Wind

☆ℜ𝔢𝔩𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔭 : Venti x gn!Reader

☆𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 : near death experience, you’re confused asf about everything, bad writing cause i suck, spoilers for the we will be reunited quest!! And also for venti’s backstory, venti is serious for once (yes it’s a legitimate warning🤚)

☆𝔊𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 : Some angst, some fluff? Idk bye🤨

☆𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶 : "It's okay, it's over now" he kneeled to be at your level, his arms still wrapped around you, and you didn't have the energy to fight your urge of nuzzling into him. "I'll always be here for you, wherever there is wind, remember I'm here too. You only need to ask." (2.8k words)

♪𝔑𝔬𝔱𝔢𝔰 : i’m an idiot simp, i did this in one sitting and half asleep, english isnt my first language BLA BLA IM SORRY FOR MY POOR WRITING BUT HAVE THIS

basically you don’t know if you can trust venti or not, head says no, heart screams yes

Also, I was listening to stormterror’s lair ost while writing it, just because its fucking amazing, you might wanna listen to it too

I’m nervous to post this?/&:! This is the second fic i’ve ever finished in my whole life

i love venti and he’s hot in his god outfit i don’t make the rules

KAY ENJOY <3

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

"Please, anybody... Just help me."

Saying you were exhausted would have been an understatement. After reuniting with your sibling, you had been frantically searching for clues about khaenri'ah and ways to Inazuma. With no luck, you couldn't find any traces of Dainsleif or of your twin. The ruins had been sealed and you had no idea what happened to the inverted statue or the corpse you had found there. Desperately, you clung into every little information you had, you would have turned every rock on this archon damned continent if you had to, which is what led you into those ruins near Guilli plains.

Walking along the destroyed buildings your eyes caught sight of a dandelion and you froze. You missed them so much, why couldn't they go back home with you? All you ever wanted was to be by their side why, why were they running away from you?

You remembered your travels, the moments you shared together, their protectiveness over you, the fondness in their eyes when you smiled at them. You remember the times you got hurt and healed one another with your now missing powers. You remember sleeping by their side and being grateful to the universe to let you keep your ray of sunshine everywhere with you. How ironic.

What had they meant 'once you reach the end of your journey' ? What does that even mean? Stupid twin, if they knew you were here the whole time, why hadn't they come to you? Why were they always leaving just when they were within your grasp? Why? Did they know how much you missed them and how much your heart broke when you finally saw them? Did they?

You only realized you were crying when a small gust of wind had your wet cheek react to the cold, breaking your train of thought. Wind.

The wind is everywhere, you think, free as a bird, always accompanying every citizen of this world, never truly alone. With this in mind, you resumed your exploring, slower this time.

A sigh escaped your mouth. You didn't want to admit it, but the wind did comfort you a little. Almost as if he was here. God of freedom and of the breeze, he was more a singer than a protector and you couldn't bear to think about him. Was it true? What Dain said... Did he destroy this nation? Was he the cause of the scenery that still haunted your nightmares up until 500 years later? Your brain simply couldn't accept that Venti, your Venti, you catch yourself thinking, could have made such an act of wrath. He was the epitome of freedom, why would he take the very thing he based all of his existence on from mere mortals? Barbatos simply couldn't be afraid of being overpowered, he didn't even care about power. All he wanted was freedom and happiness for his people. Surley this couldn't be right?

But then again, who were you to deny the wipe out of an entire nation? The gods did it. They were afraid that Celestia would be overthrown by the pride of humankind, the destruction of khaenri'ah by divine beings was a fact. There was no misunderstanding about this. That was the one thing you were sure of. So why did you feel like crying even more now?

The mere thought of a gentle soul such as Venti committing innocent people to an eternity of suffering didn't sit right with you. Even when his dearest friend Dvalin had turned against him, he didn't try to stop him, didn't even ask the dragon to save him. He healed and helped him, gave him a choice.

'What is freedom if demanded of you by a god?' was the same person that asked this question the same one who committed mass murder? Genocide?

Did the little wine-lover bard you had grown fond of destroy all hopes and light your kin had?

You remember that night when he freed Stanley from his burden, freed his and his friends' spirits. You had marveled at his action, in that instant he was a god, and he definitely hadn't struck you as a murderer. You remember that look of silent pain and grief in his eyes when he sang the tales of the nameless bard he had taken the appearance of. You knew he trusted you enough to share his story, something so personal, you could almost feel the war that took down the tyrant of Mond. Oh how much you cherished that evening, treating him to some well deserved dandelion wine afterwards, his favorite, and asking him to sing you more about the time where was nothing but the spirit of a breeze.

Your heart broke a little, remembering his rosy cheeks and drunk smile, you wish you could talk to him, ask him what happened. What did he do, was he really as dangerous as you had been told? If so, then why did you feel so good around him? Why did you feel like you could give hi-

You stopped walking upon seeing a ruin guard up ahead in the distance. You're so stupid, you think. Feeling this way is not gonna get you anywhere, especially with how the bard had been missing for a few weeks now. Ever since you had last seen your sibling.

Where was he, where was he wandering off to? You walk towards the disabled ruin guard, not really paying any mind to it, still thinking about the god you longed to meet with. If you could see him, what would you even say? Would he even answer your questions? Why did your stomach feel so light and funny when you thought about seeing him, why aren't you angrier?

You're almost at the killing machine's level now, so lost in your thought you don't notice the five other similar robots hidden behind a wall next to it. You notice them only when it's too late and you've already turned them on while thinking about examining them and collecting their serial numbers. When you hear the familiar tick of the mechanism turning on, you internally panic and think about running away only to calm down moments later and think to yourself that you can simply beat it and take what you came here for. Even if you are emotionally and physically tired, you can manage, you think.

That was before hearing five other consecutive ticks right after it, and all around you.

Turning around, your gaze falls upon the small army of field tillers. Fuck.

Paimon wasn't with you today, you had asked for some time alone which she hesitantly accepted, so you couldn't ask her to go fetch help. You would have been worried if you had all your capacities but with the state you were in, you were wondering how you were going to survive this fight. You were alone, none of your companions with you, and deeply weakened by the busy day you had and the few hours of sleep you had managed to steal away from the night. Was it today you would meet your doom, with all your questions and uncertainties unanswered?

You tried your best to fight with the strength you had left, but quickly grew desperate after what felt like hours of efforts to swing your blade and being able to only take one monster down out of the six. It didn't help that you got injured along the way, their blows becoming harder and harder to dodge. After being thrown on the grown for the third time, you understood you had at least two broken ribs and that your shaking legs would soon fail you as well.

Fear crept upon you, you would die here today, alone. Alone. You couldn't talk to your sibling after all, couldn't understand. You didn't even get to talk to him one last time. Him... You would die without the knowledge of the truth about your bard. You would die alone. You didn't want that, you couldn't look death straight in the eye.

"Please, anybody... Just help me."

-

In Mondstadt, there was a musician, a weird singer everyone had heard about at least once. He lived off of his songs and was mostly known for having a great story-telling and being an alcoholic.

The number of people who knew the true nature of his identity were few and he was perfectly content with that. He didn't wish to be a god anymore, his gnosis had been taken away anyway and it's not like he had any power over the city of wind nowadays. Even if his people still worshipped him as Barbatos, it didn't sit right with him to be called a god anymore. It actually never did, he thinks to himself with a smile, he never really took any responsibilities that came with the divine title which is why he was so weak today. But it didn't matter to him, his smile turns into a soft giggle.

Sitting on a mill that was once born from his steps he looks fondly over the city he founded. Even if they were godless, the citizens were still thriving and free. He cared oh so very deeply about the place even if he rarely, if not never, showed the affection within his heart. He remembers the day he grew strong enough to dispel the storms over his actual Mondstadt, and made the weather gentle enough so that there was no need for fireplaces. Nowadays, he loves watching birds nest into the chimney tops and seeing them found their own home. It gave him a sense of belonging like no other, not above his people, but walking among them and watching them nest into this cocoon he created. He was proud of what happened to his land and would do it all over again if he had to.

Especially since it led to him meeting you. This thought doesn't catch him off guard, you often roamed around in his mind after all, and it's not like he didn't write at least three songs about you and your feat, your smile, your courage...

Ah there he goes again, rambling about you in a whisper. He turns around to the statue of him his people erected in his honor, chuckling at how they never made the connection with his signature braids. His, but not really his, since he had stolen this form from someone who was much more deserving of this power than him. Seeing his friend being honored with the statues of the seven around the land made him happy, he hoped that it was a good enough thank you gift in return for everything that the bard whom he couldn't even remember the name of anymore did for him.

Upon gazing at the statue, he remembered telling you of his long gone friend. It was the first time he had talked about him to someone else, he didn't even mention it to Venessa, she who made him believe in himself again. He could ask himself why, but he simply knew that you had something different, more than meets the eye. Perhaps it was because you weren't from Teyvat, or perhaps it was just you being as simple as your natural self but he was simply and utterly captivated by your being. You inspired him to no end, at first he thought it was because he had never met someone like you and he loved new things! But as time grew and he got to know you, he understood quickly the meaning and depth of his passions. He thought of it with a light chuckle, content with your presence alone. He really did need and want you around.

So why did he purposely avoid you like the plague?

The wind had brought to his ears that you had met with Dainsleif.

And your twin.

His first reaction was to search for you, talk to you, he wanted to be here to know what happened! You had searched so long, he couldn't contain himself, still listening to what the wind told him, he started running with excitement but... But wait, Dainsleif was... He told you what?

Oh.

So you heard about Khaenri'ah. He had stopped dead in his tracks and turned back, only sending a warm current of wind your way, hugging you from afar.

He wasn't ready to talk about this yet, not ready to face you and absolutely not ready to answer your questions. He was a coward, he thought, running away like that but what else could he do, really. It was only natural for him to be as uncatchable as air.

A sorry excuse to avoid the fact that even if his past had marvelous story like the one of the nameless bard, it also had its share of darkness, something he wasn't ready to dive back into. Especially not now when your arrival has been shaking this world up like it hasn't been since at least 500 years.

But oh, how he longed to see your face or to hear your voice. So he asked a breeze to report to him what you were up to, and where you were. Just in case! he tells himself, what if you needed help ehe? But he knows you're competent and you won't need the help of a weakling coward like him anytime soon. Or so he thought.

Because when the breeze only gives him a few words back, his blood runs cold.

"Please, anybody... Just help me."

-

As you murmured these words in your desperate state, not really for anyone but yourself as a last resort, a prayer of some sort, you tried to stand by leaning yourself on your sword and failing miserably. You didn't dare look up as you heard the loud footsteps of the metal giants coming your way. It was over, and you barely managed to accept it.

As you rested your forehead against the cold handle of your sword, you closed your eyes, tears starting to make their ways out of your closed eyelids. All you could feel was remorse.

A soft breeze moved your hair slightly and your chest felt like a black hole had taken place where your heart used to be, regretting to not have been able to meet him under the tree at Windrise one last time.

The breeze quickly grew stronger, until it felt unnatural and you looked up from the ground, only to close your eyes again immediately when you realized the wind was too powerful for you to keep them open. If you had struggled to see though, you would have been blinded by the white light that soon illuminated the whole ruins. You didn't have enough time to register the situation when you felt a hand being laid atop your shoulder, snaking around your collarbones and pulling you back into... nothing? Another arm circled your weak form and a voice you immediately recognized said

"I've dealt with things worse than you, now crumble."

You realized that if you couldn't feel a chest behind you while still being embraced by his arms, it was because he was floating above you, and not standing behind you. A look in his direction confirmed your suspicions but what stunned you wasn't the fact that he was flying, but the attire he wore. Barely covering his body, a white set made of materials that seemed like clouds and liquid gold contrasted perfectly with his regular green clothes. His hair was glowing green and his eyes that were focused on the ruin guards up ahead had a marvelous shine that you had never seen before. He had that same aura he did the night he freed Stanley, but there was also something different about the way his hands gripped you a little too tightly or the way his voice sounded.

"Venti.." You muttered his name, relief and affection flooding you all at once, in his presence you felt as if nothing bad could happen to you. How foolish could you be, just a few hours ago you were speculating wether or not he had wiped out an entire civilisation and now here you were, being saved by him and feeling safer than you had in months.

"Close your eyes, I don't want give you a headache" he said, slowly floating legs first towards the ground. His unusually serious voice surprised you (and him) but you did as he told you. Letting go of your sword and leaning back into him, you let him deal with the monsters ahead of you.

"It's okay, it's over now" he kneeled to be at your level, his arms still wrapped around you, and you didn't have the energy to fight your urge of nuzzling into him. "I'll always be here for you, wherever there is wind, remember I'm here too. You only need to ask."

Being protected by a god really didn't feel that bad. Especially when you were in love with said god.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Thank you so much for reading whatever this is until the end :’)

Don’t hesitate to comment or reblog, tysm <3

Ps: venti loves u and so do i do pls take care of urself mwah

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact #genshin impact angst #genshin impact scenario #venti x reader #venti x traveler #venti x lumine #venti x aether #el writes♡

[thephantomessoftheopera]

Notes on Gaston Leroux‘s „The Phantom of the Opera“ - Epilogue

<< Previous chapter “It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known”

-Charles Dickens, “A Tale of Two Cities”

As we are coming to the end of the story, Leroux ties up a few more loose ends in the epilogue.

As for Raoul and Christine, their possible happy ending is only implied by what Erik told the Persian - that they had “taken a northbound train” and were planning to get married in secret. They have disappeared from the world, and Christine never appeared again on stage anywhere. According to Leroux, they might have finally settled in Norway together with Mama Valerius. At first, I thought Leroux might have been confusing Sweden and Norway, but when I did a little research on the name „Daae“, it turns out that the name is actually most prevalent in Norway, with almost no occurrences in Sweden. It is also implied that even if they took that “northbound” train before, Christine took a train back to Paris a few weeks later to return to Erik, because she had the wedding ring on her when she left, and it was finally found on Erik‘s finger.

As Philippe‘s death was deemed to be the consequence of the fight between the two brothers over Raoul’s supposed engagement to Christine, Raoul was a murder suspect - but as his previous testimony had already made him appear a lunatic in the eyes of the Commissary, Philippe‘s death was ultimately pronounced accidental. However, as Parisian society had taken less than kindly to the news of the engagement, I think that the couple would have had a very difficult standing if they had officially married and assumed the now vacant titles of the Count and Countess de Chagny. It is therefore likely that Raoul, having officially disappeared, never claimed his titles and inheritance, and chose the more simple lifestyle that Christine was accustomed to. Leroux concludes the story of Raoul and Christine with the statement that one day, he too might „hear the solitary echoes of the Northland repeat the singing of the woman who knew the Angel of Music''. In the epilogue, the boundaries between the „false“ and the „real“ Angel of Music become blurred, as Leroux repeatedly speaks of Erik as the “Angel of Music” - indicating that maybe, just maybe, Erik truly was the Angel of Music.

After following up on Raoul and Christine, Leroux relates how he obtained proof of Erik‘s existence from the Persian, mostly through the letters written by Christine that Erik had sent to him, but also through the testimonies of Meg Giry and La Sorelli. He supposedly placed all the proof he had gathered in the archives of the Paris Opera.

He also obtained the testimony of M. Poligny, the previous manager of the Opera. The „Opera Ghost“ affair was the final straw that made him resign his post, which again indicates that Erik‘s reign as „O.G.“ was rather short and caused by Erik falling in love (since he had been living in the Opera House presumably since the early 1870s). He also quotes from the fictional „Memoirs of a Manager“ by Armand Moncharmin, where Moncharmin relates that a few days after Christine‘s abduction, Erik returned all of the forty thousand francs he had extracted to the managers, no longer having any need for the money as he had given up his plan to marry Christine. The mystery of the safety-pin is also finally resolved, as Leroux was supposedly able to locate a small trapdoor in the floor of the managers’ office, through which a dexterous magician like Erik could easily have reached up and retrieved the envelope from Richard‘s coattail pocket as it was hanging down from his chair.

Leroux also notes that the marble pillar next to Box 5 sounds hollow and would offer ample space for Erik to hide inside it. According to Gérard Fontaine’s research, the pillars being hollow applies to all the pillars in the auditorium of the Palais Garnier. Whether that proves or disproves anything is up to you... Leroux’s plan of having the lake drained in order to obtain the ultimate proof of Erik‘s existence - finding the entrance to the house by the lake - did not go through, but Leroux still sustains his hope of one day finding the score of „Don Juan Triumphant“ there (that is, if Christine had not taken it with her when she came to bury him).

Leroux then gives a summary of Erik’s life according to the Persian. Erik was born near Rouen in France and ran away from his parents as a young boy, as they were afraid and horrified by how he looked. After being exhibited as a “living corpse” at fairs, he became a singing sensation and garnered a reputation that reached as far as Persia. The daroga of Mazenderan was sent to bring Erik to Persia as entertainment for the “little sultana”. Erik, who also worked there as an assassin, is described here as amoral, “not knowing the difference between right and wrong”. Even though he does not have an evil heart, his life up until this point has left him completely without a moral compass of any kind.

After building an ingenious palace for the shah, Erik’s execution was ordered so that he could not divulge its secrets to anyone. The daroga was supposed to carry it out, but as he owed Erik favours (and was the one who brough Erik to Persia in the first place), he helped him escape instead. He was punished for this and went into exile to Paris. Erik took a detour to Asia Minor and Constantinople before he ended up in Paris as well. It is also mentioned that Erik could make lifelike automata, which is reflected in the musical in the form of the monkey music box and also the “mirror bride”, a physical representation of Erik’s dream of a loving wife.

Once in Paris, Erik decided that he finally wanted to live a normal life, and placed a successful bid to work as a contractor on the Opera House. Wishing to hide his face from the world forever, he built his comfortable home into the foundations of the Opera. Erik’s plan to live out the rest of his life in peaceful tranquillity went well - until he crossed paths with Christine Daae and lost his heart to her completely. And the rest is history…

Leroux here gives his own view of Erik: “He had a heart great enough to hold the empire of the world, and in the end he had to be content with a cellar.” With a normal face, Erik, with his brilliant mind and extraordinary talents, could have had the world at his feet. And even though no one had ever loved him, he still had a heart capable of feeling deep, pure love, which is pretty remarkable. His beautiful voice is a reflection of the beauty he carries inside his soul - which was sadly eclipsed by his ugliness, which did not allow him to live “like everyone else”. The great tragedy of his life was his face, which kept others from treating him as a human being and recognizing his full potential. He is therefore clearly worthy of pity, instead of being cursed and condemned as evil.

Leroux had already mentioned in the Prologue that he believed the skeleton found in the cellars of the Opera was Erik’s. Now he finally reveals why he was so certain of that: because Erik’s skeleton wore the gold wedding ring on his finger, which Leroux believes Christine had placed there. Even though Erik had set her free and given her the ring, she later came back to him, and this time it was certainly not out of terror. With Erik dead, none of his threats would hold any more sway over her - and yet, she still returned to him to keep her promise. She not only buried him with the wedding ring, but she slipped it onto his finger, ultimately fulfilling her promise to accept him as her husband. In a sense, she buried him with her love, and that is truly a bittersweet and beautiful ending. After everything he had to endure, Erik’s life ends with a kiss and a ring on his finger, put there by the woman he loved more than his own life, and with Leroux praying for his salvation. That may not be a traditional happy ending, but it‘s very powerful. And it’s definitely not a villain’s ending.

As „Faust“ is the most strongly referenced work in „Phantom“, it is also worth comparing how the endings are different. In the final act of Gounod‘s opera, Faust and Marguerite first swear their love to each other, but when Marguerite sees Mephistopheles and realizes who Faust really is, she turns away from him and chooses death instead, while Faust is dragged into the fires of hell. Her famous last words to him are „You horrify me!“ In „Phantom“, the progression is almost the other way round - Christine is horrified at first, but then accepts Erik and chooses life instead of death.

It should also be noted that the ending in the novel is so vague that it also allows a lot of room for the reader’s imagination. Was Erik really dead when Christine returned? He himself was announcing his death, so it would not even be so very unlikely. But as this is Leroux’s story, the official reading would of course be how he himself imagined the ending: Erik dying and Christine coming back to bury him. This might be my favourite line from the novel:

“The skeleton lay near the little fountain, where the Angel of Music first held the unconscious Christine Daae in his trembling arms after taking her into the cellars of the Opera.”

As if the return of the ring was not enough poetic closure, he also asked to be buried in the very spot where he held the love of his life for the first time...

Symbolism and Metaphors

Now that we have concluded the epilogue, I would like to add a few more notes on the general themes which are present throughout the novel and still influence how we feel about it today.

To understand the extent of symbolism employed in  „The Phantom of the Opera“, it is necessary to understand the cultural mindset and environment in which it was written. At the turn of the century, the arts (and sciences, as evidenced by the slowly emerging works of Sigmund Freud) were rather obsessed with the fateful connection between Eros and Thanatos - love as the life-bringing force, and death as the destructive force. Both were often seen as intertwined and mirrored in the other.

Erik is the personification of Eros and Thanatos. He unites both forces in him to a degree unparalleled by any other character in the story. The death symbolism that is also clearly reflected in how he is described, would be both perceived as horrifying - and yet not without a strangely seductive fascination inherent in it. Death is intricately tied to darker feelings of passion and desire.The “Eros” and the “Thanatos” part of his character are intertwined, but his character also oscillates between the two sides in the course of the story.

Music in „Phantom“ also serves as a metaphor for romantic love, not only in the spiritual but also in the physical sense, as it is connotated with “passion”, “fire”, “ecstasy” and “rapture” throughout the story. Erik’s teaching awakens “an ardent, voracious and sublime life” in Christine, symbolizing the burgeoning romantic feelings in the young woman. She is terrified with the changes going on in her, which is also in line with how „Eros“ was originally viewed: as a frightening loss of control. Erik says in “Apollo’s Lyre” that “some music is so formidable that it consumes everyone who approaches it”, and Christine states that “Music has the power to abolish everything in the outside world except its sounds, which go straight to the heart”. In both sentences, the word “music” can easily be replaced with “love” - especially in Christine’s example, it would be the musical equivalent of “love is blind”.

Like in other (gothic) romances - “Wuthering Heights” being perhaps the prime example - the two rivals in the principal love triangle represent two very different types of love: one is intense and passionate, but also consuming, terrifying and potentially destructive, and the other is safer, but also somewhat chaste and lifeless. Erik and Raoul each represent one of the two extremes. This contrast is exemplified in the scene at the Masked Ball: Raoul wears white, the colour of innocence, while Erik wears red, the colour of passion, but also of danger and blood.

It is suggested in the novel that Erik and Christine were chained together by fate (“La destinée m’enchaîne à toi sans retour”), and I believe they were destined to save each other. Erik saved Christine from her grief in the wake of her father’s death and brought her back to life, and Christine saved his soul by being the first person in his life to accept him and grant him true happiness. „Phantom“ may be a tragic love story, but it is also a hopeful one, as love proves stronger than death. Christine’s choice, Erik‘s sacrifice and the skeleton’s wedding ring are all symbols of love triumphing over death.

#phantom of the opera #lerouxreadingguide #leroux phantom #gaston leroux #leroux erik #christine daae #erik x christine #le fantôme de l'opéra #the phantom of the opera #erik the phantom #raoul de chagny #opera ghost #classic literature #gothic romance

[lady-divine-writes]

Good Omens - A Corpse, Cake, and a Cuppa (Rated NC17)

Summary: Aziraphale is Death and Crowley is the serial killer who keeps murdering to catch a glimpse of the ethereal being he fell in love with. (1714 words)

Notes: Written for the above Halloween prompt from @new-endings/M.A.D.#8943. Human Crowley au. It’s kind of gory, I’m not going to lie.

Read on AO3.

“Jesus Christmas!" Aziraphale yelps, tiptoeing through the thick pool of red coagulating on the concrete. Threads of it cling to the soles of his shoes when he lifts his feet as if trying to drag him down. Aziraphale has seen a great deal of blood in his time. None of it has been pretty. But this is especially gruesome.

He wonders if that’s for his benefit.

"Look at... look at this! Look at all the… !” Aziraphale takes a pause and breathes in deep, pressing the thumb and forefinger of his right hand to his forehead. Tension causes a vein to distend and throb - quite the feat since, as a non-human entity, he shouldn't be able to experience this kind of pain. Or so he thought. In the thousands of years he's roamed earth reaping souls, he's finally found the one mortal who can give him what humans call a migraine. And he doesn't like it. Not one bit. “Could you please just… stop already?"

Crowley grins, thrilled giddy by the arrival of his intended audience. “No,” he replies, shoving the slicked head of his filthy ax deeper into the severed spine of the fresh corpse at his feet.

Aziraphale grimaces as the blade lands with a resounding slap. 

That ax of Crowley's gets on every one of Aziraphale's nerves. It's effective for its purpose but positively unsanitary. It makes his skin crawl every time he sees it.

Crowley lifts it slowly, eyes Aziraphale menacingly.

Eyes his nice, clean coat, Aziraphale realizes.

“Crowley!” he warns, putting both hands up in defense. “Don't you dare... !”

But Crowley doesn't let him finish, hoisting his ax higher with part of the dead man's torso attached. He doesn't need to do anything after that. The torso falls from the blade and splashes down in the pool, accomplishing what Crowley set out to do.

“Holy... GAH!” Aziraphale leaps back to avoid the spray. He frowns at his clothes when he sees he wasn't quick enough. "Look what you've done! You’ve made a mess of my coat!”

“Improved it, I’d say,” Crowley snarks. “Given it a pop of color.”

“I've had this coat for ages and hadn't collected a single stain! Not one! And look at your shoes! Ruined!" He gazes down at Crowley's feet in despair. "I actually liked that pair.”

“Really?" Crowley tilts his head, batting his eyes innocently. "You didn't tell me that.”

“Yes, well... " Aziraphale busies himself fishing a handkerchief out of his pocket. Praying he’s swift enough to save the fabric, he pats at the specks on his sleeve "... it’s not my place to tell a homicidal maniac that he looks fetching in snakeskin, is it?”

Crowley pouts, his lower lip jutting out, making him look comically childish despite the streaks of blood running down his cheeks. 

Aziraphale’s brows pull together. He glances around, trying to work out what's wrong. "What? What is it?"

"You're being mean."

"How am I being mean?"

"You're calling me names."

"Accurate ones, yes."

"You sound disappointed."

"You think so!?"

“B-but... but why? I took your advice!" Crowley argues. "I changed me m.o.!”

“I didn’t give you advice! I said you should stop killing innocent people!”

“I did! This guy?" Crowley plants the heel of his sopping shoe into the dead man's crooked neck for emphasis. "He weren’t innocent! He was a serial killer, too! He just happened to be shite at it!”

"I can see that." Aziraphale peers into the vacant eyes of the man on the ground, spirit buzzing beneath his skin, waiting to be reaped. But Aziraphale is in no rush. In the choice between filling out paperwork and shooting the shite with Crowley, surprisingly, he chooses Crowley. 

Or maybe not so surprising, Aziraphale muses, biting his lower lip and indulging in a private chuckle. He rolls his eyes in disgust at himself right after. What are you doing? Stop that!

"Besides, I'm doin' you a solid!" 

Aziraphale scoffs, snapping back to his senses. "How do you figure?"

"You're Death, ain't ya? I'm keeping you in business!"

"I don't know if you've read the papers lately, dear boy, but humans are dropping like flies thanks to their own stubbornness and stupidity. You're slap in the middle of one of the worst pandemics in history, but instead of doing what you can to stay safe, you lot spend your time arguing over petty b.s.! I won't wear a mask! It's against my rights! I'm not taking the vaccine! It'll make me sterile! There is no disease! It's all a big conspiracy! Meanwhile, in the states, some orange lunatic has everyone drinking bleach! Believe me, I hardly need your help doing my job!" 

“Oi! Don’t lump me in with those prats!”

“Why not? You’re not wearing a mask, I see.”

“Don’t have to. I got my shot. And I keep me distance.”

“But you’re covered in blood! Did that man you dismembered have the virus!? You don’t know!” Aziraphale cringes at words that sound far more like concern than scolding. Which he should be doing. Scolding and ridiculing, and possibly calling the police.

But he won’t.

If Crowley were thrown in prison, it would be harder for Aziraphale to find an excuse to see him. Aziraphale has yet to decide if that’s something he wants, but either way, he’d prefer it not be at the expense of another life.

"Fine. Whatever. If that's the way you feel about it... " Crowley grumbles, letting what remains of that statement die as embarrassment rises to his cheeks, settling beneath the red already there. He crosses his arms over his chest and turns his face away. 

Just like a child, Aziraphale thinks. 

And as with a child, Aziraphale should have nipped this in the bud much, much earlier - like when Crowley realized that he could summon Aziraphale whenever he wanted by upping the frequency of his murderous antics. 

This, to date, is his twenty-seventh kill.

Aziraphale doesn't know how Crowley spotted him. He's pretty adept at avoiding human detection. But after victim number eight, Aziraphale turned around, scythe in hand, and there he stood: tall, gangly, bizarrely besotted, dressed in black and wearing sunglasses at one in the morning. Aziraphale thought Crowley was a run-of-the-mill psychopath looking for attention, seeing Aziraphale as a hapless dolt to play cat-and-mouse with, not knowing for one second who he was dealing with.

Not only did Crowley know exactly who Aziraphale was, but he had taken a considerable shine to him.

Aziraphale humored the man when their paths crossed so he could get on with his work, never for one minute considering the consequences. Thinking back on their past interactions, Aziraphale can pick out the hints Crowley had been dropping.

Aziraphale played right into them, and he could kick himself over it.

"We have to stop meeting like this," Aziraphale quipped dryly after Crowley had beheaded some poor, down-on-his-luck fool. "I'm going to start thinking that you have a thing for me."

"Finally!" Crowley tossed his arms in the air. "At this rate, I was going to have to murder half of London and spell out the words ’Will you go out with me?’ with their bodies. Do you know how time-consuming that would have been?"

Aziraphale had written that comment off as a morbid attempt at humor. 

Now he feels like an imbecile.

He’s going to get an earful from Gabriel if he ever gets wind of this. Aziraphale has been able to cover up the increase in London deaths by blaming the pandemic. But once people get their acts together and things calm down, he’ll have to come clean.

There’s a serial killer roaming the streets that has a serious crush on him.

Aziraphale lets out a heavy sigh as he comes to a decision.

A bad decision.

He's going to regret this. He knows he's going to regret this. 

But will he really though?

Aziraphale looks Crowley over, still moping with his nose in the air. He examines him at depth - his sharp features, his debonair style (hiding beneath a litre of blood), his devil-may-care attitude, his rowdy sense of humor. If he were another angel, or even a demon, Aziraphale would have asked him out already, body count or no. 

So what is he waiting for?

It’s not entirely unheard of, an angel dating outside their dominion. And as for the moral issues of dating a murderer, well, Aziraphale is an angel. He has a responsibility to bring sinners to the light, help them see the truth. That can be done anywhere, not just in church - on a street corner, in a diner…

Back at his flat.

Besides, he and Crowley have a lot more in common than Aziraphale did with his last paramour, an angel he had dallied with solely for the fact that he was guardian of comestibles.

It seemed like a match made in Heaven, so to speak.

Far from it.

“Look - if I let you take me out for coffee, will you stop the gratuitous bloodshed?”

Crowley all but gasps when that question leaves Aziraphale’s mouth, the grin growing on his face transforming, becoming less maniacal and more… normal if that makes any sense. "One cup of coffee. That's all I ask."

"Then come along. Here… “ Aziraphale snaps his fingers, cleaning Crowley thoroughly before he takes his arm. “If you're good, I'll let you buy me a slice of cake.”

“That’s very generous of you.”

“I’m glad you think so. I’m a very slow eater. And I figure the longer I stay with you, the more I can keep an eye on you."

“Deal. But, you know," Crowley starts, his tone so filled with teasing he’s on the verge of giggles, "if you, say, spent the night at my flat, you could keep an eye on me for hours. Think of all the people I wouldn’t be able to kill.”

Aziraphale smirks, amused that they both had a semblance of the same idea. “You don’t say?”

“I do.”

“That’s blackmail.”

“More so than you bartering human lives against a cuppa and cake?”

Aziraphale shrugs, but he doesn't relinquish Crowley's arm. He does, however, relieve him of his ax so he doesn’t get any ideas along the way. “Fair point.”

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley

[alphabravocharliedelta]

Therefore I Am | Russell Adler x Bell! Reader III

Series: Call of Duty: Black Ops Cold War

Therefore I Am | Russell Adler x Bell! Reader

Chapter III

Word Count: 5300+

[Chapter II] [Chapter IV]

Summary:  [Y/N] “Bell” [L/N] was content with dying. Shot by the person whom they admired and left to die, the world was now left in the hands of the team they once thought as family. However, it seems that fate had other plans in mind…

Content Warning: mature content, gore, vulgar language, blood, injuries

Notes: This chapter is a bit long, whoops! I had to scrap the original draft and rewrite the entire part so it fits the narrative a bit more. As for the update schedule, I’m planning to keep it to around early in the week, but I might upload more during the week if there’s not much to edit. Thanks again for your support! 

[Y/N] “Bell” [L/N]

July, 1983

???

You opened your eyes, and found yourself in a grey corridor. 

The place looked like it had seen better days. It looked like it had just been flooded, water dripping from the ceiling as the lights flickered. A musty smell wafered throughout, and it was clammy. At the end there was a white metal door that just seemed to call out to you.

Approaching it, however, it never seemed to get any closer. You started off at a walking pace, before starting to jog. It felt like the hallway was just getting longer with each step you took. 

You didn't know how long you've been going, but the door eventually found itself in front of you. Hand on the knob, you twisted it and pushed against the metal. The door wouldn't budge, and you tugged on it a couple of times before giving up. Looking to the left, another path had opened up.

It was the same corridor again, but it felt different. The walls felt a bit closer than before. Turning around, you were going to compare it to the one you had just walked through, only to find yourself closed in and facing yet another wall.

At this point you were running, and with each left turn you took the walls seemed to shrink. It felt like they were going to crush you, and the air suddenly seemed to be wearing thin. You felt like you were being suffocated, and any attempts of trying to gasp for air only made your throat constrict. Panic began to take a hold of you, and yet you had no choice but to move forward. 

The lights were starting to disappear as well. You could barely see your hand in front of you as you practically crawled. Once you planted your hand down, you felt something wooden give out beneath you, and you fell.

You landed with a loud thud, and your bones groaned out in pain. Forcing yourself back up, you were in someplace different. 

Rectangular in shape, the walls of the room resembled the one you woke up to after nearly drowning. The floors and roof mirrored the same. The only difference  other than size, was that there were a bunch of carts around, TVs sitting on top. There were a few chairs here and there, with leather straps going around the armrest, and your wrists felt itchy just by the sight of it.

It was the lab. The one where you were handled and drugged relentlessly. As if getting the answer correct, a single bell chime resonated inside your head.

“The subject’s programming is beginning to take hold.”

Then you noticed that you weren't the only one in the room. A humanoid figure stood at the opposite end of the lab, facing away. Their posture seemed familiar, and upon getting closer you realized it was no one other than Helen Park.

Like always, she wore her black leather jacket, with a maroon colored button up blouse underneath, and regular blue jeans. Her dark hair never grew past her chin. She was speaking, but you were unable to make out what she was saying. Whether she was addressing you or someone else, you didn't know. There was something else that grabbed her attention in front of her, and you could see her arms moving, toying around with it.

"Park?" you called out hesitatingly.

She ceased all movement, before pivoting and facing you. Seeing her face, you felt your soul leave your body.

Bullet wounds riddled her body, and blood was running down her face. Her flesh was beginning to peel away like a rotting corpse. Along with the blood and flesh, you could see a bit of her cheekbones exposed. Park's neck, which was always covered with a scarf, was exposed, revealing the long scar she had received.  It seemed to be the only place untouched by all the horror, while everything else reminded you of your failure to save her. 

But the most uncanny thing of it all was that her eyes were fixated on you. 

It felt like she could see right through you. If you had a secret, she probably knew. Any thoughts you had suddenly felt public. You could feel your heart beating inside your eardrums at an irregular pace.

“We just need to give the subject a name.”

"Bell."

Her voice reverberated through your body. It sounded completely normal, her accent still detectable, and yet it compelled you step back. Comparing the face to the voice, it didn't feel like Park any more.

Abruptly, she ran towards you at breakneck speed, tackling you. You both fell onto the hardened floor, and her hands flew towards your throat. You seized hold on her wrists, trying to pry them away, but they were fixated in place. Veins were beginning to protrude from your skin.

Park’s eyes bore into you, and they had no light or feeling in them as she continued to strangle you to your demise.

She was dead. 

And you killed her.

0000

You woke up, gasping for air. 

Your hands shot up to your neck, massaging it. However, as you did, you hear the sound of metal jingling, and look down to see that handcuffs were secured around your wrists, bounding them together. Your gloves were caked in dried blood that already darkened to black flakes. A wave of nausea hit you; it felt like you just got hit by a truck. The experience felt too real, and you swore there was still a bit of pressure lingering around your throat. 

The bed underneath you felt like you were lying on newspapers, the mattress making noise with every little movement. Underneath it was a tiny  vent, a mellow humming noise coming from it as air blew into the room. Everything else was rather dull and lifeless. The walls were grey, made from concrete. Across from you, a large glass window, although you couldn't see the other side of it. It felt like you were in a prison cell, but at the same time, there was a sense of familiarity.

Fighting against gravity, you pulled yourself upward and nearly toppled over. You were lighter than usual now that you didn’t have your vest or belt on. 

Almost on cue, a buzz went off from right outside the door, and you could hear it unlocking. You tense up as a result, listening to the handle rattle.

The door swings open, and from behind, an older middle aged man reveals himself. He had whitening blond hair with a receding hairline, a few wrinkles apart on his face. Though, despite this, he was decently built. A badge hung around his neck, but it was facing inward, so you could only see a barcode on the back of it.

“Get up,” he demanded. “No questions, just follow me.”

He led you down the hallway. It was fairly quiet, the noise of your boots clicking echoing with each step you made. There were no other personnel wandering around. It was a bit eerie, you had to admit. You both pass a couple of empty rooms, and taking a quick peek through one of the windows, there was just a metal table and two matching chairs, with a light dangling right in the middle. 

Then dawned on you.

The CIA Headquarters. The one where they initially took you after they found you alive when Arash decided to abruptly cut ties.

A sick feeling settled inside your stomach. So, that’s how it was.

“Keep moving.”

He took you to a room at the end of the hall. Walking in, nothing about seemed out of the ordinary. There was a camera placed in the corner, a red light blinking to show that it was now recording. Like all the other rooms, it has a one way window and you could only assume that there was a room behind it. 

Taking a seat, you could feel the chill of the metal through your clothes. The guy who led you here left the room, only to be replaced shortly by someone else you never seen before.

This time it was a younger male wearing a baseball cap, dark strands poking out from underneath. Judging from the quality, it's seen better days. He wore a simple white collar button up and black dress pants, and a swiss watch on his left wrist. The guy looked rather well kept, but it couldn't hide the fact that he was a bit on edge, You couldn't help but simper.

“Looks like the CIA just hires anyone nowadays, don’t they?” you say, gauging his reaction. 

He understood you clearly, stiffening a bit at the sound of your voice before coughing into a fist to clear out his throat. Whatever he was doing, you found it amusing. 

“Let’s start off by having you tell us your credentials, shall we?" he starts in a deep tone at a failed attempt at intimidation.

“[Y/N] [L/N].”

“And you also go by ‘Bell’, is that correct?”

“...Only comrades call me Bell.”

“Well, [L/N]. You’re currently here under suspicion of going AWOL, and I’m here to find out where and what you have been doing since deserting your post since March, nineteen eighty one.”

You tilt your head slightly. "What the hell are you talking about?" 

Just when did you go missing? You didn’t run off to frolic and prance with some Soviets, you were caught up in an attempted murder. That was a fact, so to hear those words come out of his mouth ticked you off. 

You were going to protest in defense of yourself, but decided to keep shut. It was clear the guy wasn't going to tell you anything as to what the hell he meant, even if he was a nervous wreck.

"Jason Hudson reported that you have gone missing shortly after the raid on Solovetsky Islands, correct?"

“Sure.”

Something was amiss here, and you were going to find out. 

So, you played along.

…

“This isn’t going anywhere.”

Adler rubs out the butt of his cigarette on the small tray in front of him while maintaining his focus on you. “Bell’s toying with him.”

Behind the reinforced glass was a small room where Adler and Lazar were currently situated in. They watched keenly as they listened to your voice come through the small speaker on the table. 

"You've been living in that base since then?"

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

Despite being held and questioned, you maintained a casual posture, leaning back in your chair and bouncing your leg in boredom. Both Adler and Lazar could tell that the person interrogating you was already beginning to lose his cool as you continued to respond in short, snappy sentences. Not only that, but you didn’t even bother to speak English to the poor guy. 

You did the same thing with him and Park. Tight-lipped and witty, you wouldn’t reveal anything to them other than your name. Everything else about your background and association with Perseus you refused to spill. They used almost every method at their disposal, and you wouldn't break. So, this wasn't anything new.

“Let me talk to Bell,” Lazar suggests, closing the folder in his hand. He was glad to see that you haven't changed since the last time you've met, still exerting that rash behavior of yours.

“They won’t allow it.”

“Well, considering our options, it seems to me like I’m their best bet.”

Adler ponders over it. Considering that you didn’t hold any personal grudges against Lazar, it was the most probable angle to go at. Under the guise that you defected back to the Soviets, you were put under a watchlist, and upon discovering your whereabouts, you were to immediately go under interrogation to find out what you have done for the past two years. They didn't want another Robert Aldrich running about.

Then again, you were a special case. 

Flipping the pen between his fingers, Adler sets it back down and comes to a conclusion. “I’ll talk with Black.”

Well that was surprisingly easy, Lazar thought. He expected his friend to come up with a couple more excuses to prevent anyone you knew from getting into contact, but Adler caved in without putting much of a front. And because of that, Lazar couldn't help but muse over that something was bothering the guy; he was awfully quiet and didn't even defend himself after finally reuniting with you.

They both leave the room, gathering any remaining papers from the desk. Adler gives you one last glance before closing the door. 

"Have anything you want to tell Bell?" Lazar inquires lightly. "I'll pass it on for you."

"No," Adler states firmly. 

“...Is that what you want me to tell them, or?”

“We don’t have all day Lazar.”

Adler didn't waste a second more, and strides past him.

“Well, alright then.”

Lazar watches Adler’s form walk the opposite direction, going a good distance before turning left at a corner. It was hard to tell what he was thinking, like always. Rubbing his hands together, he adjusts the front of his coat and sleeves, making sure there wasn’t anything out of place. 

He reaches for the handle, but stops right above it. 

There were steps to follow regarding interrogation, he knew, but this wasn’t his field. But what he did know was that you were his friend, and whether you considered him one as well didn’t matter— He never forgets the people he owes.

Your mood seemed to brighten a bit the moment you set your eyes on Lazar as he cracked the door ajar. The man across from you cranes his neck towards him as they whisper to each other for a bit. Coming to an agreement, they switch roles.

Lazar settles in on the chair, setting a cream colored manila folder in front of you. The tab had your nickname on it written in capital letters.

“This probably wasn’t the reunion you expected," he greets in a weary but soft voice.

You smile a bit, hearing his voice. His accent was still the same. “Couldn’t have it any other way.”

"Give me your hands for a bit."

Lazar sticks a hand into his coat pocket, before pulling out a small silver key. You place your hands on the table, grimacing a bit as the edges of the cuffs dig into your skin. The area around it was starting to develop a rash. Twisting the key, a click occurred and you could feel it loosen up. You massaged your wrists and rotated them. 

You offer him a grateful look. "How long has it been?"

"About twenty eight hours. We had to knock you out since you kept trying to bash Adler's knee in."

Seems about right. “And the others?” you ask.

Lazar narrows his eyes a bit. "What do you mean?" 

"There were five of us on the base. One of them died, I'm here. So, where's the rest of them?" You waited for a response. Instead, he leans back and pulls his arms off of the table, just looking at you, and you could feel your heart drop. His facial expression already told you the answer, but you needed to hear it. “Lazar, tell me."

He deeply sighs. “You know how things work around here, Bell.”

“So they're dead," you confirm with malice. "And you guys said I was trigger happy one."

"We were instructed to get rid of any hostiles and retrieve the asset, which was you."

“Riiight." 

"Why do you care so much?" Lazar pressures, feeling a bit apprehensive. It was a bit daunting to see your mood shift this easily, yet you should be used to this kind of stuff. He wanted to believe that you were innocent in all of this, but he found it difficult to do so knowing the fact that you actually were roped back in with Soviets. "They're the ones that tipped your location off."

You lean forward with your arms on the table, giving him an accusing glare. "What do you mean 'tipped my location'?"

"An associate with the CIA was near the area, and happened to catch a transmission. I… think it's better if you see it yourself." He opens up the folder, sifting through the contents, before singling out a sheet and handing it over.

Most of the text was censored with a black bar, a large red stamp with the words CONFIDENTIAL on the top. Towards the middle of the page you could see a familiar set of Soviet encrypted messages. Handwritten arrows circled key parts of it, leading to a series of translations. Mostly consisting of the GPS coordinates and pleas for extraction, everything seemed to line up until you read up to the most recent transmission. 

[[L/N]]. It was just your last name, and it was repeated over and over. Was this what Mikhail and them had decided to put out? 

"This doesn't mean anything," you try, but you couldn't mask the disappointment.

You were at a loss for words. Why just your name? There was nothing special about it, nor was it too special for people to do a double take. You were sure that you never told them anything about your relations to the CIA, or Perseus. The only thing about your history you mentioned was when you were part of the KGB. Nothing more, nothing less. You weren't that dumb. 

"There's been a bounty on your head for quite a while, remember? Perseus wants you back, dead or alive. You're famous."

Or, maybe you were.

You recalled Vadim's final moments: "I don't even know what Mikhail was thinking—". This is probably what he meant. It would explain that strange face he made when you told him your name. He probably recognized you.

“Still think they’re friends?”

“...It doesn’t change the things they did for me." You slide the paper back over. "Mikhail saved me. Regardless, I owed them. If he thought using me as bait would get the attention of the people back home, then so be it."

But in the end, it was your name that got them killed.

"You keep saying that this Mikhail guy saved you. From what?"

"From dying," you state bluntly. “Because someone had the bright idea to shoot me.”

Nothing in the report said that you were injured. Or rather, Adler didn't say anything about any weapons going off between the both of you that day. "Who shot you?" Lazar inquires.

"You tell me. Who else would take it upon themselves to finish loose ends?"

He takes a moment, lingering on your words. Your stories weren’t matching up. It couldn't be him. "Stop beating around the bush Bell. Just tell me the truth. You were on that base for two whole years, working with the other four spies to relay information—"

"They weren't spies!" you shout, slamming your hands on the table in annoyance. "I'm telling the truth here! We were genuinely stuck there for the past two years, surviving on game and MREs. Since when did I ever fucking lie?"

"That day you went missing, Adler claimed you asked him to talk in private," Lazar retorts in defense. "You both leave together, but only he comes back to the base, alone. Adler told us that you knocked him out, and when he came to, you were gone."

You scoff. Unbelievable. "You're fucking joking. He's deceiving to you."

Lazar's gave you a befuddled look, unsure who to believe in. If you were right, then the truth that he knew for the past few years was suddenly thrown out the window. “Your mistaken—”

“How the hell would I be mistaken? Adler brought me there to the cliff, gave me a speech about how my actions saved many lives and tried to kill me! Shot me in the square in the chest and threw my body into the ocean. I even have a scar to prove it."

You take a deep breath, reigning in your emotions. Lazar wasn't to blame, so why were you getting so infuriated at him? 

"Thus, when I say I stayed at that base for two whole years doing nothing, I mean it. I didn’t go ‘AWOL’, I didn’t run back to Perseus. I don’t have anyone except you guys, so why the fuck would I go back?"

He didn't say anything, and you waited as he pieced everything together. Adler had lied, proclaiming that you were a traitor who had beat him unconscious and ran away like some coward. To make matters worse, everyone believed him. The bastard really thought he finished the job, and went off to tell stories while resuming life as if you never existed. You wanted Lazar to say something. Anything that would tell you that they didn't just fall for Adler's lie.

"And you guys just took it for granted?" you scoff after a moment of silence. "Some teammates you guys are."

"It was convincing enough for us at the time."

"That only goes to show how much you guys actually trusted me." 

"Well, you're here now." Lazar folds his arms. "And going on the notion that you're telling the truth, whatever... happened between you and Adler, it's fucked up. He didn't tell Woods, Mason, or myself any of this, we were kept in the dark. And I'm sorry for that."

"...You're not the one that should be apologizing," you sigh, a bit of guilt trickling in.

Memories of Park, as well as the dream came forward as you said so. You saw how close she and Lazar were, how happy they looked together and you took that away because of your own incompetence to act fast enough. You never really did apologize to him for that, and it hurt even more knowing that he was grateful for you saving him in Cuba. In a way, you couldn't help but feel like your own existence was an extension of Death's grasp. You got Mikhail, Vadim, Anton, Artyom, and Park killed in cold blood thanks to your recklessness.

And you couldn't help but wonder: is this all your fault?

"Look. In the end, we're not the enemy here Bell," Lazar bargains. "Think of it this way. You're here so we can determine whether or not you're viable to be put back on the team. You just need to provide anything to prove that."

"There's nothing to prove," you say. Adler's influence expanded pretty far, so to see that even Lazar was skeptical was a kick in the gut. "The allegations you have against me are hearsay by Adler and whoever else instructed him to do what he did. We're just going to keep going in circles, unless they all come clean. You either believe me, or don't, until they do.

"If they want me on the team, then fine. But if that's the case, I want to know every fucking thing that happened from the time I 'joined' the CIA until this point, and I want them to come clean about what they did to me. No more secrets and lies."

0000

After being questioned and giving your demands, the same guard from earlier escorted you back to the room you woke up in. 

Approximately three days passed without any sort of activity. You just either lazed about in bed, staring at the ceiling. Park didn't come to visit your dreams unlike prior to, but then again you couldn't even remember what you dreamt about nowadays. It was for the better.

It seemed best to assume that you were being detained on the theory that you had abandoned your post and returned to Red. Whoever was in charge around here at least gave you the decency to use the bathroom (with someone staying right out the door) as well as hygienic products and toiletries. 

Food came three times a day during their respective times. It tasted bland, but was better than the saltine crackers you've been rationing on. Occasionally, the meals looked like they were ordered from outside, consisting of fast food or take out, and you pondered if Lazar was the one who brought it. If it was, then you felt even worse for shouting at him.

At this point you expected them to charge you with a crime, or even move you to a more fitting prison cell, but no such thing occurred so far. You weren't even a U.S. citizen, unless Adler had forged one to get you on his team in 1981. 

Regardless, today was different.

The guard leads you back into another room, the same metal table and chair not moving an inch since last time your presence was in the room. He closed the door behind you with a click, muttering under his breath to 'wait here'. With nothing to entertain yourself, you took a seat.

Eventually, the door creaked open and an old but recognizable figure slipped through.

"That you Mason?"

"It's been a while hasn't it? I almost didn't recognize you."

“I could say the same to you.”

He gives you a fatigued chuckle. “Yeah, one of the perks of having a kid.”

Mason closed the door behind him. Nothing about him has changed since you last saw him, and he still had those dark circles under his eyes. You stared at him briefly, searching for any sign that gave his intentions away. “You have a kid?”

“His name is David, four years. But enough of me, let’s talk about you.”

Straight to the point. He watched as your expression darkened. 

"Did Adler send you in here?" you challenge, shifting tones.

"I came here on my own." 

"Are you here to interrogate me privately?"

"Loosen up, will you? I'm not here you hurt you."

Despite being told that, Mason's demeanor was intimidating. You remembered how he and Woods nearly made you shit your pants when you talked to them, only for them to laugh at their own antics and pat you in the back. Knowing how a good chunk of time passed since you last saw him, you weren't sure if anything about him has changed.

"Look, I know you probably despise us right now. Woods just told me what happened not too long ago. Trust me, we're a bit confused too. Both of us actually didn't know about your... brainwashing until he told us a couple days ago. Adler just wants you to stay in here for a couple more days until we know that you're mentally stable. You did beat the shit out of him after all.”

“Because being here half a week isn’t enough,” you comment snarkily.

"From what he told us, they wanted to cover their tracks to make sure this wasn't in the books. Adler was instructed to kill you, and when he returned to the hideout without you, he lied to us, saying you defected.”

"He told you guys?"

"Yeah. They decided to take your deal. Hudson and Adler are keeping this under wraps for now, lucky you." He paused, watching your reaction as you processed the information. "Yeah. I know. I know how it feels. I went through some similar shit."

"You?" This was new.

"It was a bitch to handle." Mason tapped his head with a pained smile. "Soviets. Got captured while trying to clear a runway to escape from Cuba. They messed with my head, then I was thrown into Vorkuta and forced in labor. We managed to escape. My memory's a bit fuzzy about some events, but you get the gist. Same thing, just different sides."

You never heard about this before. Mason's brows were furrowed in thought as he recalled the memories, his eyes giving a hint of sadness and torment.  You suspected there was more history behind Mason's story, but didn't prod him of any more details than necessary. It was a bit comforting, actually, knowing that there was someone you knew that went through the same stuff you did. 

"Do... you still feel it sometimes?" you ask, searching for the right words to say. Mason's expression was empathetic, and it made you want to just spill out all your feelings. "I… I hear you guys sometimes. Especially Adler, telling me what to do. There's flashes here and there, and I-"

"Yeah, I do. Numbers, actually... I probably would have gone nuts, if it weren't for Woods and Hudson to keep me in check." 

You nodded in understanding. So he saw things as well, and he had companions that helped keep him sane as he tolerated the after effects of it. "It doesn't seem like the both of you get along with him very well though."

"It's complicated. We've had each other's backs for ages, but there's still stuff we can't agree on." Mason rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. "But, Hudson didn't give up on me. I owe him that."

There was a knock at the door, causing you to jump a bit. Mason seemed unbothered, but you could see a flash of irritation written on his face. "Sorry, getting off topic. They don't want me talking about unrelated subjects."

“I thought you came here on your own.”

“I volunteered, actually. Adler pulled some strings just so I could talk to you. I’m here to catch you up on what happened the past couple years, as you requested." He takes a moment. "We really want you back, Bell.”

Mason proceeded to tell you about the important events that had occurred while you were gone. The team apparently was temporarily disbanded as they were unable to find any info related to Perseus, and moved on under the assumption that he had gone off the grid after the embarrassment in Solovetsky. You knew Perseus was a meticulous man, always planning steps ahead to get the upper hand, so he must have been putting together something to make up for his losses during that time. 

It wasn’t until a couple months ago that the CIA eventually got some insider information that potentially linked Perseus to ongoing activity in the depths of the Soviet Union. Knowing that, Hudson reassembled the team in uniform fashion. They gathered everything they knew, attempted contact with any double agents available, and tried to sap out any info from people they held captive. 

"And then that's when we heard about this old military base. Nothing seemed important at first, but then one of our associates happened to be near the area and managed to pick up pings of a radio frequency. Sims managed to crack it with the notes you left behind. Woods and I actually didn’t know [L/N] was your last name, until Hudson made us check it out. Adler wasn't too keen on it, but from the sounds of it, they were getting a bit desperate. That's where we found you, still alive and kicking."

"That's all?" 

It wasn't as dramatic as you imagined. They didn't do as much as you thought, and hearing how they struggled without your help was a bit provoking, yet satisfying. They couldn't do shit without you, and they tossed you away like trash. 

"Like you did anything more exciting," Mason quips lightly. "I should nickname you ‘Crackers’."

Before you could retort with anything else, a loud knock banged against the metal door. Mason, unwavered, leaned back and opened the door to a crack. You saw him whispering something, nodding every second to whoever was on the other side. 

He stood up, and you already felt a pang of disappointment that your visitor was already leaving. 

"Sorry, Bell," he apologized. "That’s all I’m allowed to say… If you want to talk about shit, feel free to ask me or Woods. He may not look like it, but he's a good listener. We'll see you soon."

The door closed, leaving you in solitary confinement again. Tuning in a bit, you heard Mason talking to someone behind the door, though you couldn't establish who it was. Their voices soon trailed off as they walked away.

You were left alone again, just trying to connect everything together.

#russell adler #russell adler x reader #russell adler x bell #cod black ops cold war #black ops cold war #call of duty #bo:cw #text #bell #call of duty x reader #call of duty imagine #fanfic #IM SORRY IT'LL GET GOOD IN A FEW CHAPTERS I PROMISE #abcd briefing

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

27. Lies

Henry learns that giving Sammy knowledge of his past betrayals at Bendy’s hands wasn’t the best way to get him to join his party as the prophet has a mental breakdown/existential crisis that Malice kinda wishes she could un-trigger. (Set in an AU where Henry remembers the past loops and uses it to his advantage, but isn’t good at it. May or may not be tied to the FIFE AU.)

Sammy was quiet ever since it was saved, when it wasn’t zoning out or talking to the ink itself, Sammy was rambling under its breath and when Henry tried to figure out what it was saying, he realized that aside from the phrase “He lied, he always lied…” the former musician wasn’t speaking English, which while Henry didn’t mind, made it really hard for him to eavesdrop on the Prophet to figure out what was going on with it.

It was mildly concerning and the animator almost considered leaving Sammy behind in the safehouse for its own good, but the cartoon wolf using his typewriter, assured the animator that the former musician just needed some time to adjust to what it had learned from him.

Henry could agree with that, he wouldn’t know how he’d take it if he learned from a time-traveling (from its point of view) animator that his god would and already has betrayed him countless times and that he and his flock would be doomed to die at the time traveler’s hands because of that betrayal.

---

The addition of Sammy shadowing him didn’t change much of the story from Henry’s perspective; Malice’s introduction, reuniting with Buddy Boris, the first elevator ride, the room filled with corpses (Well, he saw Sammy walk ON the ink instead of using the path and he commented on it, but it didn’t really affect the story that much), Susie’s slip, Malice’s favor monologue…

In fact, Sammy seemed like he was intentionally trying to not acknowledge Malice and Henry swore that other than the occasional disgust-filled glare she made at the ink figure, the twisted angel didn’t even acknowledge Sammy’s existence, and with that mask of his (and his lack of facial features), it was hard to tell what the prophet was thinking about the situation.

“Ready to help run some errands, Sammy?” Henry asked the prophet, hoping to prompt a response.

The former music director nodded but didn’t say anything.

“My machines are hungry.” Malice called out from the speaker system. “Gather them some spare parts!”

Henry handed the Prophet the pipe as he took the wrench for himself.

“There are so few rules to our world now.” She whispered into the system. “So little truths.”

“Wherever they were I can’t find them..” Sammy muttered under his breath.

“But there’s one rule we all know and respect down here. Beware the Ink Demon. Stay out in the open too long, and he will find you.” She taunted. “For if you see him. You’d better hide. If you don’t” She chuckled. “Well, I enjoyed our date.”

Aside from a noticeable lack of searchers attacking him, the animator didn’t notice many changes from the usual script, until they returned to the elevator with the gears in hand.

“Sammy said I had talent.” Malice stated with a much more noticeable amount of venom in her tone than usual. “He was always a good liar.”

“I was... always a good… Liar…” the Prophet parroted loudly enough for the other three to hear him. “Always… a good… Liar… A-always... a... good... ...Liar...”

Henry backed away as he heard the prophet start to laugh. It started out as something that he couldn’t tell if it was crying or laughing, and then broke into full-on unrestrained crazed cackling.

“ALWAYS A GOOD LIAR! HE LIES, HE ALWAYS LIES, HE ALWAYS HAD LIED! THAT’S IT! I’VE FIGURED IT OUT! IT ALL MAKES SENSE NOW! IT’S LIES! ALL OF IT IS FILTHY, DISGUSTING, LIES!”

Malice stopped the elevator before it reached her floor as she’d rather not have the mad maestro anywhere near her, especially when he was like... ...this...

Henry hesitantly approached the musician and gently tapped him on the shoulder.

“Sammy? What are you talking about?”

“I’M... I’M A LIVING PILE OF LIES! I’M NOT REALLY SAMMY! I NEVER WAS... ...I... I NEVER EVEN WAS HIM IN THE FIRST PLACE!”

The now apostate Prophet’s voice flowed with mixed emotions, soul-crushing despair and maddening euphoria being the loudest in them as the creature’s once smooth and calm voice grew more and more distorted and frantic.

“THE INK DEMON CAN’T FREE ME FROM THE INK, NOT EVEN IF HE WANTED TO, I WAS BORN FROM IT! I’M JUST A LYING INK BLOT THAT WAS STUPID ENOUGH TO BELIEVE THE LIES THAT I WAS FED, TO BELIEVE THAT I WAS SOMEONE BEFORE THE INK, SOMEONE WHO MIGHT NOT HAVE EVER EXISTED IN THE FIRST PLACE, AND EVEN WORSE, I HAD CARRIED THOSE LIES ON AND SPREAD THEM TO OTHERS LIKE A DISEASE! I HAD GIVEN THEM HOPE, FAITH, BELIEF, AND THEY WERE ALL LIES ALL ALONG!”

Boris cowered in the corner in the way he did whenever he saw the Ink Demon approach while Henry debated trying to slap sense into him. But surprisingly, “Malice” was the first to speak up.

“Sammy, no...” That soft voice tried to argue with the mad maestro, “You know that’s not true...”

“Not True?” The Prophet cackled again. “Not true? Then go ahead and grind the very universe down to it’s finest dust of all of it’s building blocks! Grind it down to it’s first ingredients used to create it and tell me which ones are hope and faith. And while your at it, why not tell me which ones are love and justice as well? They’re just lies, gentle, sweet lies we sooth ourselves with to keep from descending to the abyss...”

“Listen to yourself! That’s not right You’re not right!”

“Oh, Spare me your own falsehoods, Angel!” The Prophet spat venomously. “If you can even be capable of that. YOU. ARE. NOT. SUSIE. Just like me, you’re a figure made of nothing but cold, fetid ink and LIES. You’re not even a half-decent imitation of her! Neither of you two are!”

The venom in his tone leaked out to be replaced with some sort of bittersweet nostalgia.

 “The Susie that I... The Susie that... Sammy knew was the strongest woman he had ever known, sure, she was a naive person, seeing good where it never was... Seeing good in me... but she was a compassionate and driven person who would not hesitate to stand up for what was right! A person who had even managed to make me- make him feel like he could be a good person, maybe even believe that he was a good person for a little bit... While you... I don’t even want to grace you with a description...”

The angel fell silent and the elevator started up again, the animator and wolf dreaded seeing how the two would behave when they met up face to face once more.

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #Henry Stein #sammy lawrence #susie campbell #Malice Angel #fanfic #ink demonth #tw mental breakdown #tw existential crisis

[bansheeoftheforest]

Uh, is there still an angst break? Ignore this ask until your ready if so 👉😎👉

-

What was the au where Jekylls pushed down the stairs and experiences a skull crackening again? Oh well but I've been thinking of a branch of that where Jekyll doesn't know hes dead like all day. I also cant remember if that was already discussed or not

The lodgers patch him up, he complains of a headache, and goes on his merry way! He's confused why all the lodgers are so nervous and being nice to him all of the sudden, why creature is looking at him with a stange mix of empathy and pity. He was told he fell down the stairs, fell unconscious, and obtained a bit of an injury. He cant fathom why Frankenstein is "The only doctor who can treat him" why he has to constantly go to her for checkups. Why Maijabi is suddenly following him practically everywhere.

Hyde squeezes back control for a moment and tries the potion but it doesn't work. Maybe a bit of pain but certainly no transformation. Jekyll assumes his injury or whatever medication they're giving him to treat it somehow negated the effects

Jekyll complains about "suddenly blacking out" the lodgers know its because his soul is slippery. They tell him it must just be a side effect of the injury and not to worry

How long can they keep it secret from him? When does he find out? Does he? Does it get to be years only for him to realize that he hasn't aged? That he still needs checkups from Frankenstein? Does he learn sooner? Does a lodger crack and say it? Does he rot? Does he notice how so very cold he is. How animals act around him? It's all very interesting,,

-

I actually did think a bit of Jekyll's kidnappers for the amnesia kidnapping au! When drawing that lil sketch of Henry and O'Leary meeting Robert I had considered making it so O'Leary was suspicious of Lanyon like "Oh theres no news anywhere of someone matching Thomas' description who's missing. But some random people walk up claiming to know him? Begging to take him back with them?" And he'd think they were the kidnappers. But ultimately I decided against it as I felt Lanyon and Rachel were pretty clearly, genuinely concerned for "Thomas" :p

-

I tried playing assassins creed once, the first(?) one. But the controls were confusing and everything was sorta thrown all at me at once, and I got bored of it quickly

But! I went to the store the other day and just so happened to notice Syndicate was being sold for 15 dollars 👀 So I bought it because funky Victorian assassins and your influence! It's a bit less confusing then the first ac game I tried but why is going down or dropping so hard bdksnks. I'm having quite a bit of fun! If you dont count my rage and annoyance-, the B button refuses to cooperate with me unless I'm looting corpses >:(

The b button being the bane of my existence aside, I AM having fun! I like the funky outfits and I want to play as the girl twin (evie?) forever because her clothes are good and shes better at attacking than jacob(?) For some reason. Probably the stun her weapon has? Oh well! I have not unlocked any new outfits yet, nonetheless I wish there were more.

Also! I was thimking, and my current quests are taking place at 1868? Did I get that right? And Jekyll is like 35 in 1885. So in game he'd be 18! An au like I believe you mentioned sounds very interesting 👀 but I must play more to know what's going on and daydream about it

That would be the resurrection au <3

But god, I really like that branch! Especially combined with the hc that he can't feel pain bc the HJ7 and the transformations made him immune. Frankenstein patched him up and made fleshweaver to heal the crack in his skull but it still has to be bandaged, he surely broke a few bones, yet all he has to do is to be careful because it doesn't even hurt. He doesn't even realize how severe the injuries are because it doesn't hurt, it very well might just have been that he accidentally slipped at the bottom of the staircase and accidentally hit his head on the railing during his fall, rather than getting physically pushed and flying down the stairs, shattering his skull upon impact with the marble floor. Y'know what would be extra fun? If he only starts getting a bit suspicious about how severe the injury was once he realizes his lungs stop breathing for minutes at a time when he gets distracted, or his heartbeat stops dead in his chest. I know that that's not how biology or even creature works but lets say the HJ7 is funky, Zombie Jekyll my beloved. Perhaps he would only fully grasp what had happened once he blacked out too much and 'passed out', but his soul slipped out enough to leave his body unconscious on the floor while his soul/ghost was just... Watching. And it's not until Maijabi (who, as you said, follows him everywhere) immediately calls for more Lodgers saying that Henry's soul is getting unstable and Frankenstein's lousy job is starting to shine through that he fully understands that it was not a mere hit to the head. Or maybe it is when days, weeks, maybe months has passed and the headache never goes away, he only feels how his body starts feeling so much more... Fragile and delicate, that the guilt has eaten Helsby up alive and he corners him and spills everything, knowing he is going directly against what the group agreed to but not being able to keep it a secret much longer-- or maybe Creature would tell him immediately, once Henry is, for once, alone perhaps days after the initial accident. He cannot see Henry struggle to understand what is going on when he already knows what's happening to Henry, his mind, and his body. He doesn't listen to the plan that Frankenstein and the Lodgers has set up and immediately tells Henry the first moment they are alone. That would certainly be horrifying, I can only imagine how the Lodgers would find Henry after that, once he actually knows and manages to process everything. He would be so mad, not only to have been killed in the first place, but also because he was robbed of an afterlife because the Lodgers were selfish and could not accept the consequences of their actions. He would be mad, he would be so pissed and I have no doubt he might actually be mad at Maijabi too for even agreeing to help Frankenstein and the rest of the Lodgers. That anger would not stay long, though. That anger would soon turn into misery and sadness and paranoia so even as Henry has tried to push Maijabi away, Henry still ends up on his doorstep begging him to help him make sure he is not rotting, because no matter what anyone says, he is sure he can see rotten spots and patches on his skin and he is just so scared and jdhfjsdfdsfsfs... <3

--

Ooooooohhh, I was actually daydreaming about this just this morning! Granted, I woke up at 5 and began to daydream to fall asleep quicker but I still like the thought of O'Leary being suspicious of Robert/Rachel/Jasper/the Lodgers bc he is protective of 'Thomas' and doesn't want anything bad to happen to him and especially with the idea that Henry still has hallucinations and they both think he was abandoned by his family, left to rot at a mental asylum. O'Leary might very well think that it might be Henry's friends and family that dumped him that Henry had 'escaped' the hospital and that's why they knew he was missing since the Asylum itself obviously wouldn't have posted the news... I really liked Jeks idea, okay? Like a lot, I absolutely love it <3

--

Oh, the oldest AC game I played was Unity bc it was free after the Notre Dame fire, and I can confirm, I played 15 min and could not get through it even if i would have wanted to, it absolutely sucks so i have no doubt the older games are just as frustrating <3

BUT!!!! I'M SO GLAD MY CORRUPTION IS SPREADING AND YOU BOUGHT AND PLAYED IT AND ARE ENJOYING IT SO FAR!!! Trust me, Syndicate truly is an absolutely amazing game and is definitely one of my top 3 games of all time. I sometimes play it w my friend watching me play and trust me, I know that rage of trying to do smt but the character does smt else... or you try to do smt but the game doesn't react and you miss your chance... Oh well, still a wonderful game <3

My friend loves to play as Evie as well but I'm definitely playing Jacob every chance I get and I honestly get a lil pissy when I have to play as Evie bc I always prefer to play male characters, plus, I just like Jacob better bc he is a sweetheart. He is also canonically bisexual as hell!!! Have you met Abberline yet? The police officer? Him and Jacob together is one of my fave ships for the game. I also bought the ultimate/golden/whatever name it was edition so I had a bunch of extra outfits, I love the sherlock holmes outfit for Jacob but my friend keeps bullying me for it </3

Honestly? The time difference is the bane of my entire idea for the au bc if it's during their time Henry hasn't even graduated yet, and definitely not well-known enough for them to actively meet for whatever reason, and if you use the timeline for the jack the ripper dlc (in 1888) a lot of... Less than pleasant things happen so it wouldn't really make a lot of sense for a crossover to happen at that point but maybe it's just bc im a pussy and refuse to play the dlc. Rn, while imagining the au, I just imagine the 1868 timeline to be the same as the TGS timeline. I like to imagine the Frye Twins hearing about Henry and the Society and promptly breaking into his office to ask him to make poison and stuff for them. I also have a feeling that Jacob would flirt wildly with Henry and that Henry would be less-than-amused. It would also be a very fun thing with the fact that there would be two Henrys, with TGS Henry Jekyll and AC Syndicate Henry Green, soo... XD

#Man I really want to hear your journey through syndicate!!! #Oh man I cant wait until you meet Maxwell #and Crawford for that matter #he was the guy I based the crawford in the fic off of bc i had no idea what else to do <3 #OHH there would also be a lot of mixup with Lucy Thorne and TGS Queen Lucy #oh i can imagine them being rivals #that would be fun <3 #ask #darling-dolly-darlene #banshees au #resurrection au #amnesia kidnapping au

[gingersnapwolves]

The Untamed, a brief summary [Part 2/6]

Part One: Sword Wizard School

Part Two: The Search for the Yin Iron and the World’s Worst Summer Camp

Ext, Somewhere

Lan Wangji is looking for the yin iron. Wei Wuxian catches up with him and makes some bondage jokes. Lan Wangji is clearly warming up to him, as he doesn’t punt him into the stratosphere.

Jiang Cheng, still incensed that his brother snuck off, goes to look for him. Jiang Yanli packs him a sack lunch and tells him to be careful.

Wen Qing is stuck with Wen Chao, following Lan Wangji, and looks like she wants to throw herself off a mountain.

Ext, Tanzhou [Yiling]

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian run into Nie Huaisang, who apparently decided not to go home after school, presumably due to his grades. Yiling is nowhere near Qinghe. When Nie Huaisang decides to fuck around and find out, he goes for it.

In Tanzhou, there is a magic florist. She has a piece of yin iron, but they’re too late. Wen Chao has already taken it. I will forget that this happened in 90% of my fanfics.

Ext, Dafan Mountain [Yiling]

The three of them end up at a creepy village. There’s a woman mumbling something about a statue. Everyone else is missing except one creepy dude at a shrine to said statue, whose purpose is to give exposition. For some reason they decide to sleep in the weird cave with the creepy statue outside the abandoned village. Kids, amirite?

Ext, Somewhere

Jiang Cheng runs into Wen Qing. She purposefully picks a fight with him and he looks like someone kicked his puppy. But oh ho! It was just a ruse so she could tell him that his brother is in trouble at Dafan Mountain without anyone overhearing. He thanks her and takes off.

Interior, A Creepy Cave [Yiling]

The statue comes alive and attacks them! It keeps going for Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian makes a joke about it having a crush on him. They seal it to keep it from moving.

Outside, a mob of villagers who look the same as the not-a-corpse guy attack them. Nie Huaisang posits that he would like to be excluded from this narrative, of which he never asked to be a part. Wen Qing shows up and uses a magic flute to subdue the mob. She will never use this flute again despite countless times doing so might come in handy. Jiang Cheng turns up too but is too busy roasting Wei Wuxian for running off to do anything useful. Wen Qing tells Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian that the mob is powered by a shard of yin iron that Wen Chao has in his ‘dire owl’ which is a bird made out of shadow that could not possibly look less like an owl.

Wei Wuxian uses a nifty golden net spell that he will never use again despite countless times it might come in handy to protect the others while he and Lan Wangji fight Wen Chao and kill the absolutely-not-an-owl. The villagers are released from the spell.

Wen Qing tells them that this is where she and Wen Ning grew up. The statue had a piece of yin iron in it, and when Wen Ruohan came and took it, the statue went berserk and killed a bunch of people, including her parents. It also stole part of Wen Ning’s soul and that’s why he’s weak and sick. Then she goes back to Nightless City despite that this is clearly a terrible idea, because Wen Ning is there. Jiang Cheng asks her to stay, but she won’t, and Jiang Cheng is sad. Somehow nobody thinks to point out that she’s serving the man who got her parents killed.

Ext, Yueyang [Qinghe]

Somehow they’re all the way up towards Qinghe now. Please don’t ask questions about travel times. It’s my worst nightmare in my fics.

Nie Huaisang says that Meng Yao is meeting them here. Why? Who knows. My best guess is that Nie Huaisang knows he’s going to be in Big Trouble for sneaking off and thinks Meng Yao can protect him.

They stop at an inn. The waiter tells them something weird happened at the Chang house and now nobody’s there but they hear noise every night. The yin iron starts clamoring to be let out of its pouch and gives Lan Wangji heartburn.

Ext, the Chang manor [Qinghe]

Xue Yang has killed every damn person. It’s fucked up.

ENTER SUPERMAN and BATMAN, like seriously, imagine you were in a DC Comic and those two just dropped in for cameos and nobody bothered to explain who they were because they figured you would already know. Their names are Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan, and by the time they show up again, you will have forgotten that.

They’ve been tracking Xue Yang for All the Crimes and want to arrest him. There’s a fight. Xue Yang loses and enjoys it way too much.

Wei Wuxian asks him questions about the yin iron. He acts like a little punk. He doesn’t have any yin iron on him even though he obviously used it for Carnage, and they can’t find it anywhere.

Meng Yao and Nie Huaisang show up. They agree to take Xue Yang back to The Unclean Realm to be tried for All the Crimes.

Xue Yang cheekily says, “Don’t forget me!” to Xiao Xingchen, who immediately forgets him.

Exeunt Superman and Batman, while Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian both stare after them longingly, clearly wishing that they too could hunt monsters and criminals instead of dealing with political bullshit.

Ext, The Unclean Realm [Qinghe]

Meng Yao shows them in and tells Nie Huaisang that the Wen sect has demanded each sect send an ‘inner heir disciple’ for ‘indoctrination’. Nie Huaisang remembers that he’s the only inner heir disciple sect in the Nie sect and panics. Meng Yao laughs at his histrionics. To be fair, they are indeed funny.

ENTER THE WORLD’S MOST BADASS MUSTACHE

This is Nie Mingjue. He is the head of the Qinghe Nie sect. He carries an enormous sword and has the title ‘Red Blade Master’. Every molecule of this man exudes big dick energy.

Nie Mingjue decides to immediately execute Xue Yang. Meng Yao steps in and counsels that maybe execution shouldn’t be their go-to, being rather permanent and all. Xue Yang can give them information and they shouldn’t waste their chance to get it. Nie Mingjue agrees. The others admire the fact that Meng Yao is clever and persuasive, and Wei Wuxian makes a comment about how Meng Yao’s biological father (the head of the Lanling Jin) is an idiot for not realizing he could make use of such a talent.

Nie Mingjue orders Xue Yang put in prison and the guard strengthened. Meng Yao delivers this order to the Captain of the Guard, who decides he’s going to be a giant prick about it. He’s too good to take orders from the bastard son of a whore. Meng Yao puts on his best retail smile and says that he’ll make do.

Meanwhile, the others are discussing the yin iron and the Wen sect’s demand to send disciples. Nie Mingjue says Lan Xichen has written to him and he thinks Lan Wangji should go back to Cloud Recesses. There’s only one piece of yin iron left unlocated and Xue Yang clearly knows where it is, so they’ll take it from here. Wei Wuxian reluctantly agrees that he and Jiang Cheng should probably head home too, to see how their father wants to handle the Wen sect’s demands.

Int, Cloud Recesses [Gusu]

Wen soldiers have showed up. It’s bad. Lan Qiren tells Lan Xichen that he should take their most precious knowledge and run away. Lan Xichen tries to argue but Lan Qiren insists.

Ext, The Unclean Realm [Qinghe]

The Captain of the Guard is still being an asshole to Meng Yao, this time while drunk.

Wei Wuxian, also drunk, has decided to sleep on Lan Wangji’s roof like any well-adjusted person would.

Lan Wangji gives him a longing stare and says ‘farewell’ under his breath like the stoic repressed gay he is, before heading back home.

ENTER MINIMUM WAGE REPRESENTATION MAN

The next morning, Wen Chao shows up with his Head Henchman, Wen Zhuliu. He’s clearly there because Wen Chao can’t find his ass with two hands and a flashlight. They demand the release of Xue Yang and grandstand a lot. Nie Mingjue tells them to fuck off.

There’s a big fight, mostly between Nie Mingjue and Wen Zhuliu.

Someone shouts that Xue Yang has escaped. Nie Mingjue makes it to the prison and finds Meng Yao standing there with a sword through the gut of the Captain of the Guard. We all take a moment to wish that we could stab the people who have bullied us. Nie Mingjue, however, does not agree, and is very upset. Meng Yao hilariously says ‘Xue Yang did it’ even though he’s literally got his hand on the hilt of the blade. Nice going, Meng Yao. I spend the next ten months wondering if that was a translation error.

Wen Chao (or maybe Wen Zhuliu? I don’t remember tbh) throws his sword at Nie Mingjue. Meng Yao leaps in front of it and gets lightly stabbed. Then Wen Chao talks a lot of shit about how much the Nie sect sucks and also the Lan sect sucks and his brother has taken men to go burn Cloud Recesses to the ground. Everyone is upset. Wen Chao gallantly agrees he’ll let them off the hook for the day, but if they fuck with the Wen sect again, they’ll regret it.

Nie Mingjue drags Meng Yao inside and they have a messy breakup. Meng Yao tries to explain that the Captain of the Guard was a big douchebag, bullied him for years, and took credit for his accomplishments. Nie Mingjue points out that this was not an excuse to murder him. Because Meng Yao just saved his life, he says he won’t execute him, but exiles him from Qinghe.

Meng Yao bids farewell to Nie Huaisang, who is upset and tries to get his brother to reconsider, but Nie Mingjue is adamant. Everyone seems to forget that Meng Yao just got fucking stabbed. He’ll walk it off.

So who released Xue Yang? This question is actually never answered! Did the captain of the guard do it for some reason, and Meng Yao stabbed him because he caught him in the act? Did Meng Yao do it? If so, why? Did he have nefarious purposes? Or did he do it because he thought it would make the Wen sect withdraw and stop attacking The Unclean Realm? Did the Wen soldiers get to him and let him out? Did Xue Yang just escape on his own? You may believe any canon that you wish. (My personal head canon is generally that Meng Yao released him to try to get the Wen soldiers to withdraw, but I’ve also written some variations.)

Ext, Lotus Pier [Yunmeng]

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian are home. Yay! They reunite with Jiang Yanli. It is cute.

ENTER A PAIR OF EXTREMELY BAD PARENTS

So here’s the tea on the super dysfunctional family that basically drives this whole story. Jiang Fengmian is the head of the Yunmeng Jiang sect. His wife is Yu Ziyuan. He didn’t really want to marry her, mostly because he was in love with another woman named Cangse Sanren. However, the leaders of their two sects were pushing them to marry for alliance reasons. Jiang Fengmian kept refusing, but then Cangse Sanren married a guy named Wei Changze, who was one of Jiang Fengmian’s close friends. Since she was no longer an option, Jiang Fengmian then agreed to marry Yu Ziyuan. They hate each other.

The two of them had two kids, Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng. Jiang Yanli is not a strong cultivator and seems to have some health issues, although these are never detailed. Therefore all the sect responsibilities fall to Jiang Cheng, and Jiang Yanli was betrothed to Jin Zixuan (whose mother was the sect sister of Yu Ziyuan).

Meanwhile, Cangse Sanren is what we call a ‘rogue cultivator’ ie a cultivator who is not formally part of any sect. Wei Changze was a servant at Lotus Pier. They had Wei Wuxian and went to fight evil. When Wei Wuxian was four, they were killed by a monster. He lived on the streets for about three years before Jiang Fengmian found him and adopted him.

Yu Ziyuan is super pissed that Jiang Fengmian adopted the child of the woman he was in love with. She’s also super pissed because Wei Wuxian happens to be a more powerful cultivator than Jiang Cheng. Jiang Fengmian is very indulgent of Wei Wuxian’s behavior because, you know, his parents died, and Jiang Fengmian loved his mother and was friends with his father. Yu Ziyuan constantly accuses Jiang Fengmian of loving Wei Wuxian more than he loves their own son, constantly abuses Wei Wuxian for having the audacity to exist in her home and be a good cultivator, and constantly berates Jiang Cheng for not being as strong as Wei Wuxian and says he’s not going to be a good sect leader. Meanwhile Jiang Fengmian can’t be arsed to reassure Jiang Cheng that yes, he does love him very much. Jiang Yanli basically raised both the brothers which is probably the only reason they turned out as well as they did.

tl;dr this is a super toxic environment for everyone involved

Ext, Cloud Recesses [Gusu]

ENTER A MAN WHOSE POSITION IMPLIES HE SHOULD BE IMPORTANT YET PLAYS LITTLE ROLE IN THE STORY

Wen Xu, the first son of Wen Ruohan, is coordinating the attack on Cloud Recesses.

Lan Wangji arrives in time to find most of his sect rushing to shelter in the magic cave because the Wen troops are slaughtering everyone there.

A bunch of disciples are trapped outside because only members of the Lan bloodline can get in. Wen Xu starts murdering them all until one will tell him how to get in.

ENTER A 2 WHO THINKS HE IS A 10

A disciple named Su She, who incidentally is the guy who lost his sword in the lake like a dumbass while fighting the water demon, tells Wen Xu that only members of the Lan bloodline can get in and he could do it if he had one of the Magic Ribbons.

Lan Wangji emerges from the cave to try to fight off Wen Xu and a zillion guys single-handedly. Unsurprisingly, this does not work and he is captured. Since he’s got the yin iron, Wen Xu decides that’s good enough and they take off. Everyone left behind presumably calls Su She a jerk.

Int, Lotus Pier [Yunmeng]

They’ve received the demands from the Wen sect. Jiang Cheng is the inner heir disciple and he has to go. Wei Wuxian says he’ll go too. Yu Ziyuan tells him nobody gives a shit what the son of a servant does.

Ext, The Indoctrination Bureau, which may or may not be in Nightless City. It sure seems like it is but then later it sure seems like it isn’t [Qishan]

Wen Chao has lined all the disciples up outside so he can insult them and brag about how great he is. Wei Wuxian is worried because Lan Wangji isn’t there at first, but then he’s escorted in, clearly injured and trying not to show it.

Wen Chao forces them all to surrender their swords. Surprisingly it’s Jin Zixuan who picks a fight about this.

ENTER A WOMAN WHO IS NOT PAID ENOUGH FOR THIS SHIT

Jin Zixuan’s retainer, a woman named Luo Qingyang but who everyone calls Mianmian because of how cute she is, calms him down and reminds him that Jin Zixuan’s father told them not to make trouble. He’s pissed but hands his sword over. So does everyone else.

(A note on swords: there are strong implications that the swords are semi-sentient and connected to their bearers on a spiritual level. I’m sure I would know more about this if I was more familiar with xianxia. But the long and the short of it is that taking their swords is a Big Fucking Deal.)

Wen Chao tells them all to memorize ‘The Quintessence of Wen’, basically the rules of their sect.

Ext, somewhere nearby [Qishan]

Wen Ning is excited that Wei Wuxian is in Qishan and asks Wen Qing if he can go outside and play. Wen Qing says no because Wei Wuxian is supposed to be their enemy. Wen Ning uses sad puppy eyes. It has no effect.

Ext, The Indoctrination Bureau [Qishan]

Wen Chao tells them to recite the Wen stuff. Lan Wangji refuses. Jin Zixuan refuses.

Wei Wuxian eagerly volunteers, and then like the chaos gremlin he is, starts reciting the Lan principles instead. Wen Chao is pissed. Lan Wangji is smitten. Even Jin Zixuan thinks it’s funny. Jiang Cheng is upset that Wei Wuxian is causing trouble but he also thinks it’s funny and just won’t admit it.

Wen Chao punishes Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji, and Jin Zixuan by making them do some menial labor involving buckets of dung. Jin ‘never done a day of actual labor in his life’ Zixuan is the most upset about this.

Wei Wuxian takes the opportunity to try to talk to Lan Wangji about the yin iron and what happened at Cloud Recesses and why he’s injured. Wen Chao gets even more pissy and throws Wei Wuxian in a dungeon with a terrible CGI wolf monster. Wei Wuxian nearly gets eaten but Wen Qing intervenes by using long distance acupuncture to knock the monster out with throwing needles. Wen Ning brings him some medicine to stop the bleeding from his multiple wounds.

The next day, they’re still reciting the stupid Wen stuff, or at least pretending to. Nie Huaisang either falls asleep on his feet, passes out, or decides this is bullshit and pretends to pass out, and is dragged back to his guest house.

The rest of them go on a field trip.

ENTER THE HUMAN VERSION OF PERIOD CRAMPS

Wen Chao has a girlfriend, somehow. Her name is Jiaojiao and she is the absolute worst.

They head off to a mountain where bad mojo is going around. Wen Chao is clearly planning to use all these cultivators as cannon fodder, because he’s a fucking asshole. Wen Zhuliu accompanies them, presumably because Wen Chao will trip over his own sword and die if left to his own devices. Wen Qing also comes along, even though she’d clearly rather not. Wen Chao keeps hitting on Mianmian and it makes Jiaojiao jealous.

Lan Wangji is limping badly. Wei Wuxian wants to help him. Jiang Cheng tells him they’ve got their own problems and they shouldn’t get involved in other people’s business. Wei Wuxian says, ‘but consider: I do what I want’. He offers to carry Lan Wangji, who refuses. So instead Wei Wuxian uses a little paper talisman to ask Wen Qing if she can help them out. She calls for a break so they can get some water.

Wen Chao tells her she’s too soft-hearted. She tells him he thinks too much, which seems vastly inaccurate.

Int, Muxi Mountain [Qishan]

They find a cave and go inside. There’s a steep drop off and nobody wants to go see what’s at the bottom, so Wen Chao pushes Wei Wuxian over the edge. Everyone is pissed about this, and they all have to climb down.

They’ve discovered an underground lake and the home of the monster! But it’s nowhere to be found. Wen Chao wants to string someone up and cut them to attract it. Jiaojiao suggests Mianmian. Wen Chao clearly doesn’t want to because he has the hots for her. Jin Zixuan tells him to get his grubby eyeballs off his friend. For the first time in the show, we feel a jot of respect for Jin Zixuan.

One of the other disciples tries to grab Mianmian anyway, Jin Zixuan intervenes, and there’s a big fight.

Wei Wuxian tells Wen Chao that using his position to bully others means he should be executed, using the words they had to memorize from the Quintessence of Wen. Wen Chao doesn’t recognize their own principles. Everyone laughs at him, and Wen Zhuliu looks like he’d rather be flipping burgers at McDonald’s than have this stupid job.

While Wen Zhuliu is distracted mentally updating his resume, Wei Wuxian grabs Wen Chao, puts a sword to his throat, and jumps to a rock in the middle of the lake. He tells Wen Chao to make all his guys lower their blades. But then, uh oh! Turns out the rock he jumped to is in fact the monster, which is a terrible CGI turtle snake thing.

There’s another big fight. Jiaojiao decides that this is an ideal time to punish Mianmian for being pretty near other people, and tries to burn her with a hot iron. Wei Wuxian jumps in between them and gets hit with it.

At some point, Wen Chao decides fuck this. The Wen soldiers all retreat, dragging Wen Qing with them, cut the ropes to the bottom of the cliff, and seal the entrance.

They find an underwater exit from the cave. While Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian fight the monster and keep it distracted, the other cultivators escape. But they don’t manage to make it out themselves. They’re now trapped in a cave together, soaking wet and wounded. Thank you, Untamed.

Wei Wuxian teases Lan Wangji and is too stupid to realize he’s flirting. Lan Wangji prays for patience. He tells Wei Wuxian that he went back to Cloud Recesses and that his uncle is injured and his brother is missing. Wei Wuxian covers Lan Wangji with his robe while he sleeps. We all swoon.

In order to get out, they have to kill the monster. Wei Wuxian goes inside it and we all very studiously do not ask which entrance he went through.

The inside of this monster is very gross. There’s a black sword inside it which emanates evil energy. Wei Wuxian grabs it because he is sixteen and stupid. He hears lots of screaming ghosts and such, but hangs onto it anyway because he is sixteen and stupid. They kill the terrible CGI turtle snake thing but it collapses on top of the exit so they still can’t get out. Wei Wuxian is badly injured. Lan Wangji sings to him and there is a montage of their significant moments together up to this point, because the Chinese censors apparently weren’t looking.

Ext, Muxi Mountain [Qishan]

Wei Wuxian wakes up to find he is outside. Jin Zixuan and Jiang Cheng have rescued him. Lan Wangji has already left to go back to Cloud Recesses to look for his brother. Wei Wuxian is still holding onto the creepy sword. They awkwardly thank Jin Zixuan for helping out with the rescue. Jin Zixuan awkwardly accepts their thanks and then bounces. Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng head back to Lotus Pier.

Nobody ever mentions how Nie Huaisang gets out of Qishan, and for some reason I find this very funny.

~end part 2~

#the untamed #liveblog