#the veil is lifting? like these moments are when the lies I tell myself don’t work anymore

[sleepymaddy]

.

#me.txt #it was okay for most of the day and then just now. complete drop #and now I just feel so unbearably pathetic #like ‘delete all social media off your phone forever and never interact with anyone ever again’ kind of pathetic #trying not to cry over nothing now #there is no actual reason for this #which should make it easier to shake off but instead it’s more like #the veil is lifting? like these moments are when the lies I tell myself don’t work anymore #and the real truth is revealed #that is: I’m a whole lot of nothing wrapped in crappy boring packaging #nothing to see here #even just writing this out makes me feel even More Pathetic like can’t I stop complaining over nothing? god #no wonder no one would want to care about you #even though I have literally made this space specifically so I could vent without bothering anyone #bc supposedly writing these things out is better than keeping them in #but it’s like. girl. shut up lol

[casspurrjoybell-17]

HEART'S DESIRE - CHAPTER 10

*Warning: Adult Content*   

The little white fox lies curled with its nose tucked in its bundle of tails and its long ears folded against its head. 

It’s fur looks silky soft and without even thinking Montreal Hunter reaches towards it and runs his hand over the curve of it’s back. 

At his touch, it awakens, lifting its head and blinking bright black eyes at him. Familiar eyes.

"Kit? Is that... you?"

The fox gets to its feet, stretches its front paws towards Monty in a low bow as it yawns and then spins in a quick little circle, chasing its tails. 

Then it sits before him again, its many tails arrayed behind it like a fan and transforms. 

In its place, Kit Montaine kneels before Monty, as prim as the little fox, with his hands resting on his knees. 

Disconcertingly, the fan of tails continues to wave at his back a moment before he tucks them away with a self-conscious blush and they vanish. 

He smiles shyly, sharp teeth glinting at the corners of his mouth, his dark eyes veiled by golden lashes and his dusky cheeks tinged bronze.

"Good morning, Monty," he says.

"Good—" 

Monty chokes on nothing and coughs. When he can speak, he wipes his eyes and blinks at him.  

He might not be as bright as Noah or Freya Hunter or have Alpha Dane's quick instincts but Monty doesn't need to be a genius or a detective to know something strange is going on. 

He’s never heard of a Shifter with more than one form before, or of a fox with more than one tail.

"Kit, what the hell...? What happened last night?"

"You claimed me, Monty," he says happily and glances up to meet his eyes. "I'm yours now."

"What does that mean? And what in the hell are you, anyway?"

Kit Montaines expression dims. 

"You aren't pleased?"

"Pleased?" Monty squints and rubs the side of my brow. 

"I'm damn confused, Kit. Help me out here. Like, are you a Wolf, or a fox, or a whatever this is?"

Monty gestures at him and Kit blushes, ducking his head to hide his face.

"Forgive me, Monty. I never meant to deceive you."

"What do you mean, 'deceive' me?"

"I... I don't have a wolf form. I can make myself appear larger, though. I hoped, in the darkness, a very large fox would look enough like a wolf, you would accept me as such."

Monty sighs, thinking his brother, Dane won't be too thrilled to hear this. 

"And the tails? Are you mutant or something?"

Keeping his head lowered, Kit whispers the answer to his knees.

"Alpha Obadiah said it's because my father wasn't an ordinary Shifter. He was  a 'demon fox.' That's why I need someone to claim me, Alpha said that unless I have a human master, my fox's soul will leave me and I'll die."

"Your dad... What else did the Mortaines tell you about him?"

Kit shakes his head. 

"I learned not to ask."

Monty scrubs his hand over the back of his head and sighs. 

If Kit is a demon, he had thought Sam would have known. 

Then again, Sam himself had impressed on them that 'demon' is a catchall word for a lot of things the English language lacks the proper terms for.

"So what happened last night?"

Kit shakes his head. 

"I don't know. I... I had a dream that I was lost in a forest, as a fox, desperate and alone. And when I woke, I couldn't catch my breath. My heart raced, and it felt as if I couldn't hold on to anything. I realized it had to be the claim. I'd weakened it by running away, and then... it must have broken."

"And, uh... what about just now? Why'd I wake up next to a fox? I mean, you're cute an' all, but I'm not really into the whole, uh, 'ears an' tail' scene."

Monty smiles but Kit looks as confused as he feels.

"I didn't mean to Shift. It must have happened in my sleep. I've never had this feeling before. I don't know the word for it."

Kit blinks at Monty and to his dismay he sees tears start at the corners of his eyes.

"But it's a... a good feeling?" Monty asks, concerned... 

Kit nods, twisting his hands in the coverlet between his knees. 

"It feels like... 'safe,' and 'home' and... and 'happy.'"

Monty glances away and pinches his lips together to suppress his own feelings, which is a twist to the heart that he should find such things so unfamiliar. 

Kit makes it really hard to be mad at him.

"Okay," Monty says after a moment of thought. 

"So, you an' I might not have the answers but I think I know someone who will. Let's get dressed."

Monty throws the blankets aside and stands, stretching his arms wide and cracking his back.

"Where are we going?" Kit asks, sounding a little worried and scared. 

Glancing over his shoulder, Monty sees Kit still kneeling at the foot of his bed. 

He can almost see his fox-form overlaying his human one, the ears and tails, the snowy fur and bright black eyes. 

Monty blinks and he's honey-haired and olive-skinned again, though the eyes remain the same.

"The bookstore," he say. 

"Come on."

Later that day, at Shanti’s bookshop...

"A kit-what-say?"

Monty blinks across the small table at his brother, who pushes his glasses up his nose and turns the book he's consulting towards him. 

Kit sits at his right and together, they lean forward to inspect the page. 

On it, a stylized painting shows a man staring up in shock as a woman transforms into a fox.

"Ki-tsu-ne," Noah repeats. 

"Intelligent, long-lived, shape-shifting foxes from Japanese folklore; though the earliest legends originated in China. Foxes are the most widespread land predators, you know."

"Oh, um. No, I didn't," Monty remarks unnecessarily. 

He loves his little brother but he is a bit of a nerd, sometimes. 

They're in the strange little bookshop he manages while the snake-lady who owns it is away, seated around a little table littered with books. 

He'd gathered them from various places in the maze-like arrangement of shelves. 

Monty had asked how on earth he knew where they were, given there were no labels in sight and he'd explained the semi-mystical nature of the store. 

Apparently, people don't always get what they want here, they get what they need.

"Well," Noah continues. 

"Legends of kitsune are many and varied, there's no one, definitive text. Most agree on a few things, however."

Noah reaches for another book and opens it, flipping through to the appropriate page.

"Kitsune occupy a liminal space, a place on the edge, if you will. They both are and are not, supernatural creatures. They have magical abilities and yet they belong to the natural world."

Monty raises a brow at his younger brother.

"And... in English?"

Noah takes a breath and sighs.

"They're... foxes." He shrugs. 

"Any fox could be a kitsune, basically, according to the lore. Most look like regular foxes, too, only the more powerful ones have the nine-tails form. However..."

He picks up another book and flips through the pages.

"Most kitsune who take on human form seem to be female, fox-wives, or fox-maidens. They trick men into marrying and mating with them, bear their offspring and then turn back into foxes and disappear. Mostly, the children of kitsune are foxes themselves but sometimes they're humans born with kitsune souls. I didn't come across any stories of a male kitsune having children with a human woman or a werewolf, for that matter."

"Anything about 'claims'?" Monty asks and Noah shakes his head.

"Unfortunately, no. The closest I could find is the belief that some people, magicians or witches, basically, can control foxes like demon familiars. Being a 'fox-owner' was an accusation once lodged against people or families with suspicious amounts of luck and success, usually by jealous people with less of such things. That's the skeptical view-point, anyway."

Monty Hunter nods. For a werewolf, Noah is surprisingly skeptical.

"And the, uh... the 'non-skeptical' view?" Monty prompts and Noah looks from his brother to Kit and frowns.

"Legends and reality seldom align," he says, "And the people who write books about such things are often several steps removed from true events. I suppose for the moment, I'd rely on instinct, Monty. Kit is a kitsune, no doubt about that but otherwise, we have no facts," he sighs and looks at Kit. "Unless you have anything else to add.”

Kit bites his bottom lip and two pearlescent tears slip down the slopes of his cheeks. 

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

"I wish I knew more."

Compelled to comfort him, Monty reaches over and rubs the spot between his shoulder blades.

"No worries, Kit. It's not your fault."

Noah frowns at him thoughtfully.

"Would you like to pick out some books of your own, Kit? Maybe the store will give you something interesting, and it could help you learn to read at the same time."

Kit brightens at that and Noah shows him how to browse the shelves. Once he's thoroughly absorbed with this, Noah comes back."

What about you, Monty?" he asks quietly. 

"You feel any different?"

Monty frowns and shakes his head. 

"No, not really."

Noah glances towards Kit but he's off in the far corner of the store.

"There are a few other things about kitsune I didn't bring up," he says. 

"Sometimes, they're said to have succubus-like qualities, being that they're usually portrayed as female and feed on sexual energies. Another thing is that they usually don't have the ability to learn or take on human form until they're 100 years old. I don't know if there's any truth in it and given he's a mix, it's hard to say how Kit might be different but... Well, it's possible he's still immature, for a kitsune."

"And?" Monty can tell there's something else Noah wants to say that he's holding back. 

He chews his lip and adjusts his glasses again.

"If he hasn't even come into his full abilities, it's possible this 'claim' thing is psychological. If his family held that over him as a threat, that if they abandoned him, he'd die and then used it as an excuse to basically traffic him... he might need to believe it's real. Which, in the case of a kitsune, might make it real. They're tricksters and illusionists, Monty. They can bend reality, make you see and experience things that aren't there."

Monty glances at Noah sidelong. 

"Kinda like... dragons? Or Fae?" he asks pointedly and Noah flushes with embarrassment and Monty pushes back his chair and stands.

"Don't worry, Noah," he says. 

"It's not like I'm in love with him. I'm just looking after him a while. And real or not, if he needs to feel he belongs to me in the meantime, that's okay with me."

Noah nods, not meeting Monty’s eyes, still looking like his cheeks could catch fire. 

"I'm just saying to be careful."

Monty takes pity and reaches over to ruffle the top of Noah’s neatly trimmed hair. 

"Hey, you know me," Monty says, smiling so Noah sees he really does appreciate his concern. 

"I'm always careful."

Over the next few days, Kit settles in. 

He's a constant but not unwelcome, presence, accompanying Monty everywhere he goes. 

He helps Monty pull weeds in his garden and watches as he practices his blacksmithing skills. 

He even comes with Monty to babysit his niece and nephew, where Julian eyes him with suspicion until he delights the babies with his little fox form and lets them play with his strange bundle of tails. 

To Monty’s pleasant surprise, Dane isn't that upset by the news that Kit's not a wolf, after all and in fact seems more relaxed than he had before. 

Kit is a quick learner, too and by the end of the week he can read the books on vegetarian cooking he picked out from Noah's shop. 

He learns to cook Monty’s favorite foods, too, lasagna, cheesy enchiladas, rice and beans and stir-fried noodles, among other things. 

He even makes a batch of chocolate-chip cookies to bring to Chloe and Grace's barbecue feast. 

The afternoon of the party, they drive over to their house and find nearly everyone else already arrived.  

Dane Hunter and Julian Hart live within walking distance, of course and Ian Foley and Sam Asato always like to get there early to help out. 

They brought their mechanic friend, Carlos Martinez, along as well. 

He's a handsome, lanky guy with a pony-tail who moved here recently and set up a shop. Chloe Foley and Grace have a few of their friends over, too, regular, human friends, whom Monty hasn't met before, as he warned Kit.  

No turning into a nine-tailed fox, in other words, no matter how much Luna and Luca might scream for it. 

Only Noah Hunter and Ambrose Thorne have yet to arrive but they drive up just as Kit and Monty are walking towards the house. 

Noah looks a little more rumpled than usual and Ambrose looks smugly pleased about something. 

Monty rolls his eyes to myself. 

Noah's a lot better at standing up for himself than he used to be but it still seems like his dragon-man gets his way, most of the time. 

Their golden retriever catches up to them first and runs circles around them both, barking at Kit, who gasps and clings tight to Monty’s side, startled by the sound.

"Dougal! Enough of that!" Ambrose shouts sharply and the dog yelps and runs back to him, head lowered and tail swishing in canine apology. 

"Sorry," Ambrose says and winks at Kit as he and Noah join us. 

"Must'a smelled a fox."

Kit blushes bronze and Monty shoots Ambrose a warning glower. 

He tends to speak his mind and it isn't always appreciated. 

Ambrose smiles back at him, flashing bright, sharp teeth. 

Monty feels a twinge of concern for Grace's human guests but he soon sees there's little need, some of them seem nearly as eccentric as Doctor Ambrose Thorne. 

One is a person with blue hair and a plump, androgynous physique and another is a man wearing fresh-picked flowers in his beard and a shirt that announces he brews his own beer. 

The last are a pair of women, one who looks like she lifts weights and the other with a soft, round face, who are obviously too in love with one another to notice almost anything else. 

Nobody could fail to notice Grace's cooking, though and soon they're all seated around the long picnic table on the lawn, stuffing ourselves with delicious food, barbecued meats... 

And tofu for Monty and the blue-haired person. 

Corn on the cob drenched in butter, potato and macaroni salads, coleslaw and fresh hot biscuits. And, of course, blackberry pie. 

Kit seems a bit overwhelmed by it all, the food, the talk and laughter, the new faces and the attention and occupies himself primarily with Luna and Luca. 

He seems to have taken as much a liking to them as they have to him and helps to feed them their little spoonfuls of food. 

When the sun sets, Grace lights pretty paper lanterns with real candles inside and Chloe serves everyone pie and home-made vanilla ice-cream. 

We're all about to dig in, when Dane's phone rings.

"Urgh, don't answer that," Julian groans, as Dane fishes it from his pocket. 

Dane's face lights when he sees the caller ID, though and he taps the green button to answer.

It's Freya," he says to Julian.

"Our sister," Monty whispers to Kit. 

"You'd like her."

"Hey, Frey, what's up? Please don't say you need me to bail you out of jail again," Dane says, only half laughingly. 

As a bounty hunter, Freya Hunter has a knack for finding trouble. 

He listens for a moment and the relaxed happiness on his face vanishes with alarming totality, leaving his expression hard and grim.

"Hang on," he says and then rises from the table and walks away.

Everyone watches, quiet with anxious concern, as he paces at the edge of the lawn, speaking in low, urgent tones, one hand bunched in his bundled hair. 

A few minutes later, he ends the call and comes back. 

From the bleak look in his eyes, Monty knows whatever it is, the news isn't good.

"Dane?" Julian's on his feet and goes to his mate, reaching to touch his arm. "What is it? Is Freya okay?"

"Yeah, Frey's fine. It's uh..." 

He swallows and looks at Monty and Noah. 

"It's mom and dad. There's been a fire and... Well, it doesn't sound good."

[crimsonophelia]

hi basil !! can i request for an imagine with zhongli and an adeptus reader? the reader has been in love w him since the archon war but never told him bc they were scared, and when rex lapis “dies” they’re absolutely crushed. but when they see a certain funeral consultant preparing his funeral, they tell him about their friendship w rex lapis and how they regret never telling him how they felt. thank you!

featuring: zhongli x gn!reader

warnings: angst, a little suggestiveness, some god complex stuff if you squint hard enough, typos lol

published: may 14, 2021

form: imagine

a/n: hi anon! thank you for the request~ i’m assuming reader recognizes zhongli in his mortal form and confesses in that way! in canon, it’s kind of dubious whether or not zhongli explicitly told the adepti that he actually isn’t dead, but i’m going to take some creative liberties and assume that he tells some of his adepti friends that he’s alive in person, like so~

Time slowed to a halt, as the body of the magnificent dragon, Rex Lapis, plummeted to the earth from the heavens, like a meteor summoned by Celestia. You felt like it was all a cruel, eldritch dream that the Archons had cursed you with, frozen among the crowd of onlookers, as the body tumbled, tumbled, and fell in a lump at the alter. Not a single sound emerged from the crowd, as they all stared in horror.

To them, their deity, their Archon who had pulled Liyue from the depths of the abyss and ascended it to wealth and prosperity, had come crashing down to earth in front of their eyes. But to you... Rex Lapis was your world. It was not Liyue that he saved from the grasp of darkness, but rather, you, you were the one he rescued. It was you to whom Rex Lapis had shown more compassion than you had ever thought possible coming from any living being—warm hands grasping your cold limbs, pulling you up, up, and up, into the light of day, giving you a purpose. A reason to live.

The body lied there, as Lady Ningguang acted fast, trying to ease the onlookers, her own horror still painted visibly upon her usually cold and composed countenance. The corpse of your god still retained some semblance of life, you thought, scales still glimmering with a slight sheen, mane fluttering in the wind of commotion, almost as if he were glowing with vibrant life not a few moments ago.

Please. Rex Lapis. Please don’t leave me. I have so much left to tell you. 

*****

“Master!”, you called. “Wait for me!”

You ran to catch up with archon, who had begun his daily routine of assessing the growth of his blossom trees. Tianheng Shan was a favorite location of Rex Lapis, particularly in the springtime when all the flowers on the treas began to bloom, and the glowing flowers that sprouted from the ground took root and broke up from beneath the soil.

Rex Lapis, hands locked behind his back, looked back at you, as you joined him at his side.

“Hello there, [y/n]. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

The archon really did behave like an old-spirited mortal, you thought. He had the mannerisms and idiosyncrasies down to a tee, certainly the polar opposite of the likes of Barbatos.

“I was just about to view the blossoms as well! They should be in season within a week or two”, you responded innocently. This certainly wasn’t an opportunity purely to spend time alone with Rex Lapis. You would never be so silly.

The both of you strolled along the banks of the river, eventually reaching an opening where tens, even hundreds, of pink-blossomed trees wove their way about the bottoms of the cavernous cliffs, some delicate petals already beginning to fall, sprinkling upon the river like memories across the stream of time.

Rex Lapis proceeded past you, craning his neck upwards to get a closer look at the blossoms. As he did so, the hood of his robe fell back down onto his shoulders, revealing long, silky locks of earthy amber resting upon shoulders as hardened as Cor Lapis.

“Quite lovely, aren’t they?”, he mused, almost absentmindedly. “These yinghua are often mistaken for taohua—yinghua do not produce fruit, and their blossoming period is much shorter.” For some reason, you thought, the archon’s gaze seemed to stray elsewhere, somewhere beyond the mass of trees.

“That is why the yinghua is renowned for its beauty. Its life is fleeting, yet so utterly captivating.”

Now, it was all gone. All that was left was a husk—a shell of the god you loved and devoted every ounce of your existence to. A mere gnarled tree that once possessed a beauty that transcended seasons.

*****

You entered the foyer of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, hearing the bell jingle solemnly as the door closed behind you. The place seemed to be rather empty, with nobody manning the front desk. Assorted coffins and various floral wreaths adorned the rooms of the parlor, a rather gauche little showroom of death. The taste and aesthetics reflected quite well the nature of the parlor’s director.

You treaded through the silent shop, wood creaking beneath your feet. The building must be quite old, you supposed.

“Hello?”, you called out. “Is anybody here?”

Before you could take another step, you heard a man’s voice coming from a back room, tucked away behind the main desk and obscured by a curtain.

“Just a minute, please. I will be with you shortly”, the voice called back.

After some further rustling emitting from what you guessed was the storage room, a man stepped out from behind the curtain, slightly ducking below the doorframe due to his rather imposing height.

Dressed in sharp formalwear, hair tied neatly behind his head in a long ponytail, he stepped forward from behind the desk. You noticed a geo vision dangling from the belt at his waist. How familiar, you thought. Something about him tugged at a string deep inside you, but for the life you, you couldn’t put a finger upon it.

“Greetings, how may I be of service to you?”, the man queried, amber eyes penetrating into you. There it was again. Maybe it was his voice, or his gaze, or perhaps just the way he carried himself, that felt so awfully familiar. His words seemed so... warm, even. Like some fond old memory that is slipping off the precipices of your brain. I must be going mad, you thought. One thousand years and still fawning over every handsome man I see.

Clearing your throat, you replied, “Yes, I am here on behalf of Lady Ningguang and the Qixing. We are looking for a supply of flowers to send off Rex Lapis at his funeral next week.” The man eyed you, curiously. “I was wondering if perhaps you could suggest a suitable flower wreath, preferably something in-season.”

Without a response, your odd companion began to walk towards an adjacent room attached to the lobby, hands crossed behind his back, quite like an old man, although he looked to be in his early thirties, at most. Assuming you were to follow, you stepped into a side room filled with vibrant flower wreaths of all sizes and colors.

The man begun to the scan the selection closely, as you stood to the side and watched him work. Oddly enough, the silence in the room wasn’t awkward, but was even quite comforting, in the same way a blanket warms a body.

Settling upon a modest, pink-flowered wreath of bouquets, he turned to you, indicating that he has decided upon a suggestion. He turned to you, those same eyes once again boring into you. Those were not the eyes of a young man, but something much, much more ancient, and for a moment, you stood frozen, frightened.

“Might I suggest the lovely yinghua? They are a personal favorite.”

White. White was all you saw for seconds, and when you opened your eyes, everything looked crisper, like a veil had been lifted. The world felt clearer, your thoughts came at you with greater clarity, but above all, it was no longer the funeral parlor manager that stood in front of you.

It was him. Rex Lapis.

The room started to twist and warp again, but this time not because of the spell of fog that the archon had cast to maintain your ignorance, but rather because of the salty tears clouding your vision, and the pressure of pure relief, joy, and utter agony that brought you collapsing to your knees, right then and there.

You couldn’t believe it. What about the body? Was that a mere fabrication ? Or was this vision before you an illusion, an echo of the past that had somehow manifested itself in front of you? Why would Rex Lapis do this to you, make you endure such pain? If he knew how much you loved him, how much gratitude you felt for him, how much you didn’t want to move on without him—

“Oh Archons, [y/n], please, I’m so, so sorry—”, he uttered. You felt a soft pressure surrounding you, as you became vaguely aware that the man you loved was now embracing you, the both of you huddled on the floor. “Please forgive me, I hate myself for it but I had to do it, and for the pain I have caused you, I’d much rather die, myself. ”

You could barely understand his words over the sound of your own weeping, forgoing all manners and letting your tears run free. You felt your master tighten his arms around your middle, as if scared to let you go, after already sacrificing you once.

You mustered up the strength to look up at him, seeing that now the dragon’s eyes themselves had become watery with emotion, something you had never seen in the archon before. The regret you felt was threatening to burst from your throat, a lump preventing you from being civil, or talking like a proper adeptus, or confessing your feelings to the man who you owed your life to. No more. No more weakness that plagued your heart for centuries. You may never have this opportunity again.

“[y/n], I beg of you, please forg-“

You pulled your savior’s face towards you, and without hesitation, placed your lips upon his. Too long, had this moment been forgone, and the both of you knew it, as the archon gradually deepened the kiss, intertwining his hands through your hair. This was life. The clarity of it all, the energy surging into you from the points where your skin touched, the infinity of your lips melding against his. This is the god you worshipped and would lay your life down for. Without him, there is nothing.

His lips, initially hesitant, grew more confident, more desperate as they clung onto yours. His fingers were soft as they traced the back of your neck, as if trying to memorize each one of your vertebrae. A feral yearning, something only a dragon was capable of, was unhinging behind Rex Lapis’ ministrations, as you proudly latched yourself deeper into him. The silence of the parlor was now filled with heavy pants and the rustling of fabric, as the two of you clung onto each other, one not wanting to depart before the other.

As you felt the breath in your lungs dwindling, having given all of your life and energy to Rex Lapis’ mortal body, you pulled yourself off of him. Streaks of wetness along his cheeks glinted in the late afternoon sunlight filtering through the windows. His hair had become undone in the minutes where he had been attached to you, and his face showed something of a quenched desperation. He was mortal, and he was perfect.

“Promise me. Promise me, that you will stay by my side forever.”

a/n: ohoho i hope you like it anon~ this is a little bit spicier than i usually write but tbh i kinda vibe w it

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin imagines #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin x reader #zhongli headcanons #zhongli imagines #zhongli x reader #zhongli x y/n #genshin x y/n #zhongli #zhongli fanfiction

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

May I have a scenario/imagine, whichever makes more sense, of Trey, Rook, and Crewel trying to tame some sort of wild, magical invasive species of Poison Ivy that has taken over the greenhouse?

Crewel gives me perpetually disappointed wine aunt father vibes. This piece also lowkey turned out to be Trey x Rook, but you didn’t read that from me.

This imagine’s longer than my usual 1k word self-imposed limit, since it goes out to a friend of mine that’s been supporting me through final projects and exams. I’m not sure if they’d want me tagging them so publicly, but they know who they are.

Imagine this...

To Professor Crewel’s chagrin, members of the Science Club had never had strong academic intent. In actuality, the club was a thinly veiled excuse to bake cakes (just to find the perfect ratio of leaveners and sweeteners!) and to stalk watch students in their natural habitats (nothing wrong with an impromptu observational study, right?). Instead of test tubes and beakers, the lab benches were littered with cake pans and photographs of unsuspecting Savanaclaw students.

“I do wish you two would take this club more seriously,” Crewel would often gripe, fingers massaging his temples. “Science is not a play thing, it is a powerful tool with which we can use to redefine and reshape the world around us.”

Such were the woes of an instructor--but today, he had no time to lament.

Crewel’s jaw tightened as he gazed upon a sprawling mess--the shattered glass panes of the Botanical Garden, with massive stalks of ivy reaching for the skies. Casualties lined the ground--plants and flowers drained dry of their life, all withered and decayed. The ivy writhed in glee.

(He shouldn’t have been surprised that the headmaster summoned him and the Science Club to resolve the issue instead of hiring a real exterminator.)

“How unseemly,” Crewel noted, clicking his tongue. “Running amok and ruining so many of the specimens we’ve carefully cultivated... This shall not go unpunished.”

He glanced over his shoulder.

“Clover.”

“Yes.” Trey stepped forward, his magical pen ready.

“Hunt.”

“Oui.” Rook followed suit, smoothly drawing forth his own pen.

“The time has come to prove your mettle,” Crewel announced, rapping his pointer against his palm. His onyx eyes seethed with a quiet, controlled rage. “Show this overgrown weed what the Science Club is truly capable of.”

At his command, the boys nodded and tore off toward the Botanical Garden.

Crewel held his ground. The corners of his mouth curled into a condescending smirk as he addressed the poison ivy. “Come here.”

An arm of ivy flew at him, so fast that it was but a blur.

An alive, but livid, blur.

“Heel!”

A column of fire erupted from Crewel’s pointer. His attack slammed against the plant, settings its leaves awash in embers. The rogue plant let out a sky-splitting roar.

The battle had just begun.

Trey ducked under an arc of burning ivy and threw open the door to the Botanical Garden. Tucking his limbs in, he barreled through right as more ivy snaked in to seal off the entrance once more.

He could feel the heat upon his back, the earth quaking under his feet, and Rook close behind him--yet he willed himself to keep his eyes glued ahead, even as he launched across the threshold and into a terrifying new realm.

The inside of the greenhouse now glistened with ivy--covering the glass panes, slowly strangling what few plants remained. The Botanical Garden had always been warm before, but it was unusually so today. Sweltering, and almost so humid that the floors and walls seem to eerily pulsate with life.

“Keep your wits about you, and don’t look back, boys,” Crewel had instructed them. “Just get in there, and cut it off at its source--at the heart.”

Trey’s eyes darted this way and that. Green, green, green. It all looked the same to him. Where in the world was the point of origin?

“Got any ideas?!” He glanced over his shoulder at his partner--and his protective goggles nearly went askew.

Rook had dropped to one knee, pressing a gloved hand against the floor--now a carpet of vines. “Hoooh! What a fascinating specimen!” he marveled. “Such destructive power, and yet it also sports this emerald sheen... Très manifique!”

“H-Hey... No offense, but I don’t think now’s the time to stop and sniff the roses. Or, well. I guess it would be ivy in this case.”

“Non, non! There is always time for beauty--even in dire situations!” Rook insisted, his hands continuing to grope around. His eyes suddenly creased, and his smile turned sly. “Ah, te voilà.”

“Even if you say that, that’s not going to help us fix this...!!”

“Calm yourself, Chevalier des Roses,” Rook advised with an airy laugh. He cupped a hand to his ear and beamed. “Listen closely! Surely even your own heart beckons you to still your worries.”

“Heart?” Trey straightened, adamant as he folded his arms. “Sorry, but I just don’t believe in stuff like that. Come on, Rook. We need to focus--Crewel-sensei’s trusting us with this task.”

He cast a concerned glance at the doorway, ensnared in vines. They’d have to blast their way through later--but if they stayed in this space for too long, they, too, would soon be drained of all their life force. “We can’t just mess around!”

“Ah--but you must put your faith in me as well, Chevalier des Roses!” Rook insisted, pointing to the patch of floor that he had been not-too-subtly groping earlier. “I implore you to lend me your strength!”

“You want me to attack the gr--?!” Trey froze mid-sentence. He had become vaguely aware of a gentle sensation creeping around his ankles.

In an instant, he was yanked into the air, dangling upside down like a useless rag doll. Blood rushed to his head, and his surroundings spun.

“Chevalier des Roses!!”

“I’m fine!! I-I’m fine!” Trey called--though he clearly wasn’t. “I can just--” He waved his magical pen, the air growing tense as a small ball of fire collected at his command.

“Non!” Rook warned, startling his classmate. “There is nothing to cushion your descent, mon amie! You will surely break a leg--and certainly not in the theatrical sense!”

He’s right. Trey’s fire extinguished itself, replaced by a chill crawling down his spine.

“A little help then?!”

Rook’s eyes widened. “You would give me your trust?”

“Not exactly like I have any other choice.” Trey would shrug, but it was a rather difficult motion to pull off while suspended midair--and far more troublesome, his veins ran cold. It was a sure sign of the ivy sapping his energy.

“Have no fear! Today, it shall be my turn to be the chevalier.” The hunter grinned from ear to ear, magical pen in hand.

“Please, Rook! Any day now--before I become plant food!” Trey’s voice was hoarse--from exasperation, or from the magical ivy, he wasn’t quite sure. Perhaps both.

“Just for today, I shall be your Chevalier D’amour.”

And with a confident wink, Rook plunged the ivy-covered floor into a sea of flames.

The accursed plant wailed as it shriveled to ash upon a backdrop of billowing smoke. Embers flickered and danced in the afternoon, the Botanical Garden set ablaze. Crewel took a step back, grimacing at the growing fire.

A figure emerged from the greenhouse, carrying another. The professor squinted into the smoke, pinpointing the familiar outline of his Science Club members--Rook, cradling a pale-looking Trey in his strong arms.

“Puppies.” Crewel pinched his temples.

“C’est chose faite--it is now done.” The brim of Rook’s hat eclipsed his eyes, making the typically cheery hunter appear dark to match his tone. Then he lifted his head, basking in the sunshine, and that somber moment was over. “All is well and good again, as it should be!”

“I... I thought I was going to die,” Trey groaned. “... And Rook, I appreciate you catching my fall, but you didn’t need to carry me out like you’re an action hero in a movie or something.”

“Are you able to still stand after an attack from that heinous plant?”

“Yeah. Just put me down.”

“Oui.”

Trey stood on shaky legs--and instinctively leaned on Rook’s shoulder.

“Well, boys. You’ve exterminated the ivy--as well as just about every other plant in the Botanical Garden. How exactly do you intend to atone for this?!” Crewel snapped, whipping his pointer at his students. “I believe my instructions were quite clear--destroy only the heart of the ivy.”

“The fault lies with me, Monsieur,” Rook declared, dipping into a bow. “We dallied for longer than was necessary, and in a moment of panic, I unleashed my magic.”

“Always one with a flair for the dramatic. Unfortunately, that will not serve you well in detention, Hunt.”

“Wait. Crewel-sensei, that’s not the whole story,” Trey interrupted. “Rook got me out of a pinch--and he deserves credit for that. He’s also the one that found out where the ivy’s heart was--buried in the floor itself. I didn’t realize until it was too late.”

The professor’s lips pursed into a straight line. “Clover, are you confessing to your own negligence?”

“I am.” He nodded firmly. “I’m the one that deserves the detention.”

“Trey-kun is not responsible!” Rook protested. “He is the one that attempted to set us on the right path. I refused to heed his advice, which led to events escalating.”

“I didn’t listen to Rook when he tried to tell me about what I needed to do.”

“I should have phrased it more concisely.”

“You--”

“Trey-kun--”

“Enough. It is clear to me that both of you contributed to this chaos.” Crewel sighed. “... Hunt, take Clover to the infirmary. I will put out the fire myself.

“... Are you letting us go?”

“Of course not. Once you’ve recovered, Clover... you boys will be restoring plants in the Botanical Garden for the remainder of the semester as punishment.”

“Ahhh, I should’ve known. Riddle’s not gonna like this at all.”

“Chin up, Chevalier des Roses! At the very least, we shall have each other’s company!” Rook laughs, smacking Trey on the back and sending his peer nearly doubling over.

Crewel sighed once more--he was disappointed, but not surprised.

His Science Club puppies still had a long way to go.

#twst #Divus Crewel #Trey Clover #Rook Hunt #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland requests #twisted wonderland scenarios #imagine this

[nativerse]

Letters From Mabe to Tabantha

​Hi everyone! I’m finally able to post the piece I wrote for @memorabiliazine​, as preorders have started shipping! It tells the story of a woman who has moved from Tabantha Village to Mabe Village, through letters she has written to her childhood friend. I wanted this story to focus on the life of an ordinary person living in Hyrule, years and years before the calamity started. We often think of the people in Hyrule in the context of the horrors that happened to them, and the ways in which they survived, but what about the times when they experienced life ordinarily, not defined by the calamity they were destined to live through?

I absolutely loved writing this— please enjoy!

My dear friend,

The air in Mabe is so different, but I’m becoming acquainted. Here it envelops every breathing thing, thick like honey, sunshine and expansive sky, but I am accustomed to the crispness and cold frost of Tabantha. I write to you now as I sit, at my window, as little spots of light flicker through the trees and onto the objects of my house, illuminating them strangely, as with everything else in this town that light touches. Life here is so different, and the softness of the air has yet to become a friend to me. Increasingly, I long to feel something familiar, anything recognizable, but only one thing has caught my eye—

To the north I can see the spires of Hyrule Castle. I remember fondly, in our youth, when we would sit and watch the sun rise in the east, silhouetting the castle beautifully. We dreamt of a life within those walls. Now, as the veil of distance and childhood is lifted, a life like that does not seem as inviting… But I still have caught myself staring at those tall, arched windows from time to time, looking to catch a glimpse of movement. I wonder if the princess wishes she was someone like us. Maybe a little bit of my younger self is still alive in me, deep down.

You would love it here, in the warm verdure. Beyond the boundaries of this village we are surrounded by fields for miles, and from here I can see the long grasses sway like the ocean. I know Tabantha lies past those fields, and I know you are there, too, somewhere on the horizon. I am not as far away as I feel. There are so many people here, more than there ever were at home… Even now, I hear my neighbors laughing in the streets below. But I still cannot dispense this feeling of isolation. It is clinging to me like my memories of Tabantha, and my memories of you.

I will see to it that this is sent to you, and I await your response. I think I will catch one of the merchants moving west and put this letter in their care, so it will arrive swiftly. It has only been a few nights, but loneliness is not something to be underestimated. I’m afraid I will forget your face by the time we meet again.

I am thinking of you, always.

With love

——————

My dear friend,

The seasons are truly changing in this part of Hyrule. This morning I awoke to quite an affirming blanket of snow on the ground, and I realized just how long it has been since I’ve seen a landscape like the one in Mabe today. It was a soft reminder of home, one I am already hesitant to let go of... No matter how life presented itself in Tabantha Village, there was certain reassurance found in that monotony of snow.

This may sound strange, but late at night, when I am on the edge of sleep, I can see those white, rolling hills of the village so vividly. I see the mountains and the icy rivers of Hebra, just as I did in childhood, I see my hands, my footprints in the snow, I see my mother’s face, whole and reflective like the moon. I see yours.

I dreamt last night I was sitting on that river bank above Hebra Plunge, staring down at myself in the water. It felt so real, but some bitter reason, no matter what I did, I could not recognize my own reflection. I was an outsider to my own body and mind, occupying a world I had no place in, looking down at someone I did not know. I continue to ask myself what this could mean, but I remain with only questions, and no answers...

I woke from sleep with a sort of residual homesickness, the kind that makes your whole body ache. As much as I wish I could dispense of that feeling for good, there was still something comforting about waking up to find that snow had fallen. The world greeted me at dawn as if it was an old friend.

Remember to stay warm.

With love

——————

My dear friend,

I was walking home the evening before last, watching birds circle high above me, and a memory surfaced, one I have not thought of in years—

Do you remember during those warmer months, when your father would let us accompany him on his trips towards the Tabantha frontier? Those were the days when we hadn’t travelled anywhere outside of the village, and every excursion past the boundaries of home felt like a lifetime to my childhood mind. I was too young at the time to remember what the occasions for these trips were, and as we grew older I never thought to ask, but the memories from such trips still linger… We would fall asleep as we left home and wake up as the highest tower of Rito Village came into view from behind the mountains. That feeling has stayed with me since then, along with the warm smell of pine and dust in the air. No matter how much time goes on, I don’t believe I’ll ever forget it.

I remember wanting to see everything, and touch everything I could. Life felt so big and overwhelming and unknown, and we had only just begun to explore it. I wonder, would you want to go back and experience that feeling again, if it were possible? Even for just a moment? The world feels much smaller now than it did years ago— Or maybe now, I simply take up more space in it. 

The passage of time recently has become obvious to me. It is hard to believe I’ve been in Mabe for almost two years. It has begun to feel like home here, but I believe part of my soul will always remain in Tabantha, buried somewhere deep in the snow… 

I’m sorry. You tell me to look towards the future, but I cannot help dwelling on these old memories. Time passes by so quickly, and the only choice we’re given is to continue along with it. We will never be children again, this I know. Isn’t it strange how something can be so beautiful, yet so heartbreaking, all at once?

It is difficult to put into words how all of this made me feel on my way home. I just kept walking, and kept watching the birds.

With love

——————

My dear friend,

Have I ever told you about the view from my bedroom window? When the air is clearest I am able to see all the way across Hyrule Field towards the Tabantha Hills from this spot on my bed. Years ago, on slower afternoons, I would go out into that big sea of billowing grasses and sit down, and watch wild horses graze in the distance, and imagine what the journey would be like if I walked all the way back to you. A fleeting, sunlit moment of peace in a life otherwise full of confusion... I do not have the time anymore for such excursions, but I do still think about it once every so often…

Time continues to pass quickly, to no one’s surprise. Last winter, my neighbors had a son. I see them daily, and it astounds me how fast he is growing. On the days when they need help looking after him, I bring him to Hylia River just east of here, to let him wade around in the shallow water and chase frogs. I love watching him experience the world with such perfect, fragile simplicity… I often imagine what kind of person he will be when he’s older, but for now it is enough just to watch him babble and laugh. One day he will be different, just as we all will be. More than anything, I want the world to nurture him gently as he lives in it. How beautiful it is, the ability to grow up.

I have a question to ask you, one that I have been considering for some time now. I know your birthday is quickly approaching, and in the past we have always settled for sending gifts back and forth… But, would you like it if I made a visit home this year, in time to celebrate with you? I feel terrible that I have not offered sooner, but the occasion to do so always seemed to pass me by without warning.

Please let me know. We have been apart for far too long.

With love

——————

My dear friend,

I can hardly wait to see you again. In packing up my things, I came across my old coat in the back of my wardrobe, the one your mother made for me. There has not been a need for it in this fair Mabe weather, but I never had it in me to give it away… It still holds that faint smell of charcoal I had forgotten about…

How much have you changed since I left all those years ago? I wonder, do you still have the first letter I wrote? As embarrassing as it is to say, I’ve kept all of yours. They serve as good medicine for when I find myself thinking of Tabantha. I try to imagine your voice speaking to me as I read them, but what a relief it will soon be to hear it from your own mouth instead.

I’m counting down the days. By the time you read this, I will most likely already be on my way... 

Sent with great anticipation and all of my love

#my writing #legend of zelda #breath of the wild #memorabilia zine #botw zine #loz zine #natpost #thanks for having me!!! (つ﹏<)･ﾟ｡

[drwcn]

The Shadow Beneath the Light 

Concept: Sect Master Wen Qing & her harem of Jiang heirs demonic cultivators. CQL!Verse. 

[Part 1] Part 2

(long post, tw: scars)

~

The remnant heirs of Yunmeng Jiang all had scars, Wen Qing knew.

She discovered Jiang Yanli’s first. 

“Do you want me to help you remove them,” she had asked the oldest Jiang when her brothers brought her to Nevernight for Wen Qing to ease the ravage of demonic cultivation on their sister’s constitution. Wen Qing was good at that, erasing scars. She had helped herself along these many years; Wen Ruohan didn’t like weakness, and scars were much too telling. 

“No.” Jiang Yanli replied, and Wen Qing found her steel like resolve magnetic. 

“What they did to me cannot be undone, Wen-zongzhu.” Jiang Yanli raised a pale hand from the dark medicinal bath Wen Qng had put her in, water dripping from her wrist down to her elbow, rolling across the countless white lines that marred her once untouched skin. With a twist of her wrist, tendrils of back smoke danced between her bony fingers and gathered in her palm. 

She closed her eyes. “But they’ve paid for it.” 

There was no point in asking her how these fine scars made by thin blades came to be, or what others scars she carried that could not be seen with the eye. Nevernight received reports from Wen Chao himself when he had captured the three Jiang children. Having been raised beside him, Wen Qing knew her cousin’s nature well, and she knew even better the pettiness of his mistress Wang Lingjiao. 

...the Jiangs have fallen under our might, stripped of their powers and dignity alike...

Even Wen Ruohan had scoffed at his son’s letter in distaste and muttered “that idiot boy” before sinking back into deep meditation. In his later days, he had little energy for anything else but controlling the Yin Iron. 

It made him easy to kill. 

After she’d slain him, Wen Qing had preserved his body in her laboratory, and ordered him to be studied in detail by her healers. The physiological effects of demonic cultivation on the body: such uncharted water, so much untapped knowledge, a realm of unexplored potential. She wasn’t going to get another subject that was as readily available and un-missed as her predecessor. 

And if this just so happened to allow the three Jiangs to bear witness to his systematic disassembling while his de-brained head floated in a glass tub above her workbench... well, that was a convenient bonus. 

Wen Qing was not a nice woman. 

Fortunately, the Jiangs weren’t looking for nice. 

~

She married Jiang Yanli on an auspicious summer day. 

With the memories of Yunmeng’s vengence still so fresh in their minds and Qishan Wen’s new political foundation so precarious, it seemed wise to keep to a serious, private agenda. Yet, this was Sect Master Wen’s da’hun, an official affair if nothing else, so no corners were cut when it came to matters of ceremony and sanctity. Though it was not the lavish event that Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian had dreamed of giving their sister in their youth, Wen Qing made sure that Jiang Yanli was afforded every measure of respect and dignity. 

They rose early in the morning, bathed, and meditated to clear their minds. At noon, they climbed Nevernight’s tall stairs together to bow and pay homage to the heavens and gods. There was no song, no music, just the high altitude winds in their ears as they bond themselves to each other, witnessed in full by their brothers, their parents’ spirits and their disciples. 

Then later, inside the sanctuary of their wedding suite - the only place where Wen Qing gave in to her impulse to make it as decorated and luxurious as she knew Jiang Yanli deserved and desired - the young Sect Master of Qishan Wen allowed herself to be unwrapped by her new fu’ren and to unwrap her in return. 

“It’s all yours,” Wen Qing promised within the cocoon of their canopy, the air dense with the heat of their coupling. Her body tingled in pleasure where Jiang Yanli’s hands had mapped out its planes and claimed them for herself. 

“Hm?” Her new wife laid propped on her elbow by her side, the curtain of her hair falling around her pale shoulders, lips dark, kiss-swollen, and smiling. She was the very definition of beauty, the epitome of divine, and living proof in Wen Qing’s mind that mere mortals could not taint perfection. “What’s mine?” 

Her heart, they both knew, would have to be shared. In fact, Wen Qing suspected Yanli rather preferred it this way: all of them in Wen Qing’s bed and in her life, so that none would have to be without the other. To the outside world it may seem like a harem, but Wen Qing understood without a doubt that there could be no others, nor did she want there to be. 

She reached for Jiang Yanli’s free hand, laced their fingers together and pressed a tender kiss to her palm. “Everything. All that I am - my titles, my powers, my lands - they’re yours. Fu’ren, you are my fu’ren, my legally wedded spouse, my only wife. I entrust myself, my life to you.”

“Yanli,” she whispered, caressing her wife’s - her wife, what miracle! - face with the back of her knuckles, her thumb brushing her lips open and then down under her chin, along her neck, across her clavicle and over the mount of her left breast, a motion which earned her a soft moan from Yanli’s parted lips. “I can’t turn back time, can’t undo the past, but henceforth I will do everything in my power to ensure the happiness of you future. Qishan Wen Sect lies at your feet.”

Jiang Yanli’s eyes darkened incrementally with her every word, darkened in a way that had nothing to do with the yin energy that flowed through her veins.  

“I like it when you call me fu’ren,” Jiang Yanli leaned closer, her gaze falling to Wen Qing’s lips. “Say it again.” 

“Fu- mhm!” 

Her words were lost somewhere in between them. Jiang Yanli shoved Wen Qing onto her back and caught her lips in a kiss that was truly too filthy to have come from any good gentry girl, and proceeded to show her just exactly how much she liked it.

~

 A-Ning once asked her once why the Jiang siblings would agree to marry her, despite the Wens being the reason for all their tragedy. Wen Qing told him that there could be no greater karmatic justice than if the clan from whom Wen Ruohan and his sons took everything became the bloodline to inherit Qishan Wen’s future. 

~

Jiang Cheng’s scars are ragged and angry, overturned flesh, long and deep. 

They hurt him on the days when the weather turned and the temperature dropped. His temper was terrible on those nights, and with the dark powers aggravating his spirit, that made him dangerous. 

Wen Qing didn’t mind. She was a Wen, and Wens practiced ways of the fire, and for Jiang Cheng she would set her mountains alight to keep him warm for a moment. 

Two days after Jiang Yanli became the new lady of Nevernight, Wen Qing welcomed Jiang Wanyin into her harem with a small private ceremony of their own.  He looked odd in proper red; it wasn’t his colour, but his smile was sweet and shy and Wen Qing lost herself a little in those eyes. 

He was her consort, what a strange notion to think about. Even now she still couldn’t quite wrap her mind around it. Dukes and emperors had concubines and consorts, cultivators rarely did. She wasn’t the first but certainly one of the few. Not to mention, she was the first female head of family in Qishan Wen’s history. A female Sect Master with a harem of demonic cultivators, what a colourful tableau they must seem to the world. 

She asked Jiang Wanyin before he committed himself to her if there was any part of him that minded that he couldn’t be her legal husband, that she couldn’t give him the same prestige she gave his sister. He shook his head. After everything, he and Wei Wuxian both agreed that Yanli came first and that they would honour her before all others. Wen Qing thought this was perhaps their way of atoning for a mistake that was never theirs to begin with, but as much as she didn’t agree, she understood why the boys couldn’t let go of the guilt of not being able to protect their sister. 

(Sometimes, they would tell her stories of what they endured at the hands of Wen Chao and Wang Lingjiao, and how the three of them survived the months they spent together in the Burial Mount. It gave her nightmares, those stories, she who didn’t lose a wink of sleep after cutting off a man’s head.) 

Jiang Cheng couldn’t be her husband in name, but she made sure to arrange for him all the sweet and homely customs that normal couples would enjoy on their wedding night. A veil for him to lift from her face, and wine for them to drink with their arms entwined. He looked confused when the merry old wives, who were her wedding attendants, led by Grandma came to her with a bowl of half cooked dumplings. 

She took a bite. The merry wives chuckled and asked, “sheng bu sheng a?”  

Jiang Cheng blushed. He understood. Wen Qing bit back a laugh and nodded, “sheng.” 

Then they were left alone. Jiang Cheng was still blushing, even though what was supposed to happen next would hardly be their first. 

Hm, on second thought, perhaps it would. 

Their times spent together prior to this had always been accompanied by special assists that Wen Qing was quite good at using and that Jiang Cheng was quite delighted at receiving. She didn’t bring them tonight. She figured that tonight of all nights he would want her a different way, just as she wanted him. 

Jiang Cheng shuffled back onto the bed and glanced in further confusion at all the dried dates, peanuts, longan and sunflower seeds spread across the silk. “What? Did we run out of plates?” 

Wen Qing climbed leisurely onto his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Use that big boy brain of yours and think.” 

It only took a couple more seconds before it clicked. “Oh”. His blush darkened. “Wow they’re really serious about this stuff.” 

“What?” Wen Qing teased, purposely gyrating her hips to grind down against him. “You don’t want to?” She could feel him, and he definitely wanted to. 

His hands spanned her waist, pulling her closer. “I never said that.” 

Unlike Yanli, Jiang Cheng needed a firm but gentler hand. Something consistent, unwavering, safe. Wen Qing cradled him between her thighs and within her arms. The heat from her golden core flowed out from her fingertips, crawling up his spine and along his scars to warm him from within. 

Jiang Cheng panted against her neck, clung to her tightly and pressed desperate kisses where he could. 

“I’ve got you,” she whispered against his ear, as their shared pleasure dizzied her usually sharp perception of the world. “I’ve got you. A-Cheng, Wanyin, I’m with you, you’re safe, you’re good, you’re so good, so good, you can let go, let go. Let go.”

In the back of her mind even as their world exploded into blissful white lights, a single thought lingered. You’re not allowed to die.

Afterwards, when he curled up quietly at her side, pillowed against her soft breasts, she found herself running her fingers through his hair and lulling him to sleep with her visions of their future. Yunmeng would be free, she would tell him. Lotus Pier would be cleaned and rebuilt just as the three of them remembered. She would send her most trusted subordinates to the Jiang library, to preserve their books and scrolls. She would dispatch her most agile trackers to find remnants of their disciples and Jiang elders travelling the lands so that they may help to pass down Yunmeng Jiang's wisdom and guide the steps to train their young folks... 

“Young folks,” she mused. She could still feel his spent between her legs, a bit sticky where it was starting to pool under her thighs, and a daring part of her wondered if it would happen tonight. “Hm.”

“Someday,” Jiang Cheng mumbled, half asleep. “’hm many d’you want?”  

“The better question is how many your sister wants. Fu’ren is calling the shots on this front - ha ha - stop!” Wen Qing shrieked a little as his sneaky fingers danced across her sensitive ribs. The bastard knew just where to tickle her! 

“What?” Jiang Cheng grinned, pulling her closer and apparently no longer interested in sleeping. “A-jie has high expectations, we can’t disappoint her.”

“Hm yes,” Wen Qing smiled, melting into his kiss. “That would be unacceptable.” 

~ 

The stories about them, the stories that the Jins were spreading, painted a wretched affair. 

Wen Qing didn’t have to hear it to know that it must be bad. The cold blooded assassin betraying the man who raised her, decapitating his head and usurping his rule, overthrowing him to steal Qishan Wen Sect from under him. She claimed zero tolerance for his tyranny and yet, not months later, she had taken in not one, not two, but three of middle kingdom’s grandmasters of demonic cultivation. Within a year, she’d married all of them. A harem. She was the only master of a major sect to have one. Word on the street was that the Jiangs were her puppets, her slaves, that she owned them. 

What people didn’t know is that although she usurped Wen Ruohan and assumed his power, in doing so, she had also assumed his debts, the debt that Qishan Wen owed Yunmeng Jiang. Yes she owed Gusu Lan as well, so she sent her resources, and yes she owed Qinghe Nie, so she sent her healers. But the Jiangs...what could she do for them? 

So no, the Jiang remnants were not her puppets, her soldiers, nor - heaven forbid - her slaves. They were her debt, a debt she could never repay, and would owe for the rest of her life. 

~

Wei Wuxian’s scars were the worst. They were the only kind she couldn’t do anything about because they were inflicted with the spiritual fire brands of her own clan. 

Wen Mao, their founder, had them forged when he established their sect. It was intended for their own disciples who’d committed the gravest of crimes. Once inflicted, the evidence of it could never be removed through any healing methods known to man. It was never meant to be used for torture. 

Wen Chao clearly didn’t care, or more likely he didn’t know, since he barely bothered to read his own ancestor’s teachings.  

The first time Wen Qing saw Wei Wuxian’s scars, it was when she had finally wrangled him into her clinic to have him examined for damages from demonic cultivation. She had examined his sister, and she had examined his brother. They both got better under the care of her and her team of healers. Only Wei Wuxian resisted, even though he was the most aggressive practitioner of the them three. 

When he finally shed his upper robes, Wen Qing understood why. He was covered in them. Her assistant healer actually swore aloud and flinched, though Wen Qing’s withering glare had him quickly lowering his eyes to apologize. “I’m sorry, that was unprofessional.” 

Wei Wuxian shrugged. 

He drank a lot and was indiscriminate about his liquor, but once in a drunken stupor he confessed that he missed Gusu’s Emperor’s Smile. So when Wen Qing proposed to him like his siblings wanted, she expected him to refuse. Wei Wuxian wasn’t the type to be forced to do anything no matter how much his brother and his sister wanted him to. 

Except he didn’t. 

“You understand what I’ve saying right?” 

“Yeah. Being the concubine of the most attractive young Sect Master in the land - no offence Zewu-jun and Chifeng-zun - uhm some would call me a lucky bastard.”  

Wen Qing was baffled. “If you’re sure. You know I wouldn’t let the Jins do anything to you or Yanli or A-Cheng, marriage or no marriage.” 

“Pff, I’m not afraid of the Jins, and why wouldn’t I be sure?” 

“Because....Lan Wangji?” No need to beat around the bush about these things. She was there when the two of them fell out of the cave together, wrists bound with Gusu Lan’s head ribbon. 

Hm. 

Wei Wuxian glowered. “Well, more reason to get married isn’t it? If I’m part of your inner court, your harem, the venerated and righteous Hanguang-jun can’t reasonably come and force me to go back to Gusu with him so he can exorcise the evil out of me.”

“He said that?” Somehow the dots just didn’t connect.  

“Not in so many words.”

Right. 

Well, in her defense, Wen Qing didn’t really know Lan Wangji all that well, so she couldn’t be blamed for what she did next. 

Two days after her ceremony with Jiang Cheng, and four days after her da’hun with Jiang Yanli, Wei Wuxian dressed himself in red and Wen Qing came to him with a giant vat of Qishan’s finest alcohol. 

There was none of the grandeur she afforded Yanli (he wouldn’t have preferred that even if she could arrange it), nor any of the sweetness she shared with A-Cheng (“He’s the sentimentalist in the family not me”, waved Wei Wuxian dismissively). Wei Wuxian just wanted a good time, and Wen Qing obliged. 

In short, they got drunk. Blindingly drunk. Over many, many rounds of drinking games which started with betting and ended with stripping, both of them worked themselves up enough to get their hands on each other. 

Probably. 

She was not entirely sure. When she woke up the next morning, she was on the floor with a pounding headache, completely naked, sore all over and wrapped in a red silk drape that somehow came down from the wall. The bed behind her was still made, which meant they never made it there. 

A groan came from the table. Crammed under there, Wei Wuxian was also completely naked. He shuffled out, rolling over onto his stomach, blew the errant strands of hair from his face and whined, “Ow! I’m so sore. Did we fuck?” 

“Uh...” What time was it? Surely way too early for any decent person to ask her to do a medical exam on herself. Wen Qing squinted against the light streaming in from the windows. “Uh, I’m not sure.”

Wei Wuxian padded down his body and winced when he reached his backside. “Yeah we did.” He gave a triumphant pump of his fist. “Alright! Mission accomplished.”  

Wen Qing laughed. Wei Wuxian sat up and laughed with her. She laughed harder when she was sure that his mirth was genuine.  

She felt lucky. She had a household: a brother who was safe, respected and maturing into a fine young man every day, a wife who was the pillar of her life, a consort who she loved very much, and a man who kept things interesting. A family. 

Wen Qing laughed, but she laughed too soon. 

~

“Gusu Lan Sect is sending an envoy next month to Nevernight for the trade negotiations.” Wen Qing paced the length of her wife’s private study. 

Jiang Yanli raised her eye brows. “Yes...we’ve spoken about this. Everything is in order, is it not? Lan Xichen was very reasonable in his letters. Certainly more agreeable than Jin Guangshan.” 

Wen Qing smacked the newest letter down on Yanli’s desk. “This was delivered to me personally this morning, addressed to the both of us. I can’t believe I’m receiving something of this nature from Zewu-jun of all people.”

Jiang Yanli picked up the slip, glanced it over, and fell silent. “Oh.” 

“Yanli, ‘Oh’ is an understatement, this is an outrage!” 

The intention of the letter was very clear; Lan Xichen wrote on behalf of his brother Lan Wangji for Wei Wuxian’s hand in marriage. 

The ladies stared at each other, in utter, shocked silence. No matter how close the Twin Jades were, there was no version of reality in which Jiang Yanli would believe that Sect Master Lan would ever stoop to asking a fellow Sect Master for her concubine, like Wei Wuxian was some kind of giftable property. This has to be a mistake. 

“Listen to this language. ‘My brother, though he may often find it difficult to express his affections, feels deeply for Wei-gongzi.’ Gongzi, he wrote, not xiansheng. ‘As there are regrettably no elders present for either the Jiang or Wei family, I must then seek blessing and permission from you Wen-zongzhu and Wen fu’ren, the current head of the clan with whom Wei-gongzi resides and his adopted elder sister’.” Jiang Yanli read aloud, pausing to exclaim, “I - I don’t think he knows!”

“How could he possibly not know? Jin Guangshan is fabricating nasty stories about us in every tea house, tavern, and inn. How could Lan Xichen not know?!” Wen Qing dug the heels of her hands into her eye socket in frustration. “Wen zongzhu and Wen fu’ren - he knows we married.”

“Yes, you and I. The vernacular used on the streets is the Jiang heirs, so maybe he thought it didn’t include A-Xian. In any case, you haven’t gone out in public with him yet.” Yanli tried to rationalize. People knew about Jiang Cheng because Wen Qing had taken him on an inspection of Qishan Wen’s cities and citadels three weeks ago. Everyone saw: subsidiary clans, townsfolk, peasants, travelling merchants. 

“That’s true.”  Then Wen Qing suddenly had a thought. “At the risk of sounding like a warlord trying to curry favour with an ally by gifting away her concubine, you think we can just ...lie about the marriage....? No, no that’s insane. And immoral.” 

 Yanli sighed. “We could try all we want, but A-Xian would never buy into it, even if you and I both know there’s still something there.” 

“Not that he’ll ever admit it.” Wen Qing grumbled.  

“A-Xian can be...difficult. Once upon a time, I had harboured some kind of hope that he and Lan-er-gongzi could...” Another sigh. “And then everything happened. I can no more speak for him than I can speak for myself, and without a family to back him, given his method of cultivation and his record during the war...well.” Jiang Yanli’s eyes took on a far away look. 

Wen Qing cocked her head. She was starting to see why Jiang Yanli wanted her to marry Wei Wuxian. Jiang Yanli understood as his sister just as well as Wen Qing understood as his once-physician, that Wei Wuxian was more fragile than he let on, and she wanted someone there to take care of him. More than that, Jiang Yanli wanted herself to be around to ensure that he was taken cared of. That person wasn’t going to be Lan Wangji. She had given up on Gusu Lan Sect. 

 Perhaps she should’ve waited. Perhaps they both should’ve. 

Wen Qing rounded the table and came behind Yanli, kneading her thumb into the tense muscles of her trapeziums. Jiang Yanli hummed. “He still loves him, you know.” 

“I know.” 

Over the months, Wen Qing had discovered that she and Wei Wuxian were quite compatible. She shared his bed - occasionally - because they were friends and it was fun and he needed the connection, but it wasn’t like that between them, and they were both well aware of it. Wei Wuxian and Wen Qing saw each other only as family, in the best sense of the word.  

Things were good. Really. It was warm and comfortable. Wei Wuxian spent his days with his siblings and Wen Ning and found joy in the duties he took up within her sect. If Wei Wuxian liked to stare at the orchids on his window sill, the white orchids Nie Huaisang brought as a gift when he visited lasted month and which Wei Wuxian tended to himself and didn't let anyone touch, Wen Qing pretended she didn’t see. 

“The envoy next month is clearly a ruse. Our trade agreements are all but finalized. Lan Xichen clearly wants to talk about this marriage in person, but why the smoke and mirrors?” Wen Qing knelt down and wrapped her arms around her wife. 

“His Uncle probably doesn’t agree. Or his Elders.”  Jiang Yanli leaned back into the embrace and closed her eyes. She was tired. They both were. “I don’t imagine Lan Xichen is coming here himself.” 

“Naturally not.” 

“Who is he sending?” 

Wen Qing pulled back just enough to tilt Jiang Yanli's chin towards her for a kiss. "Guess? Who does the kind and magnanimous Zewu-jun have at his disposal that is good with words, has his trust, and knows the ins and outs of Nevernight."

"Ah." Yanli understood.

Sunshot Campaign’s most prolific little spy. 

“Meng Yao.”

[Next]

~

Notes:

da’hun 大婚 - the official marriage of a person to their legal spouse.

sheng 生 = raw, but also “birth”. It’s an homonym for “is it raw?” and “are you going to give birth?” It’s for good luck.

date (zao), peanut (sheng), longan (gui), sunflower seeds (zi) - zao sheng gui zi 早生贵子 another homonym for having babies quickly. Lol yes traditional families are obsessed with babies.  

#cql #the untamed #chengqqing #wangxian #yanqing #yunmeng trio #jiang yanli #wen qing #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #tw: scar #corie fics #tsbl #cql ficlet

[hongism]

mists of celeste ➻ 18.5

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, eventual smut ➻ Word Count: 3.2k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

⇐ previous | next ⇒ | masterlist

act two ➻ part 8.5

​​​

Jongho doesn’t need to be told what’s going on. He senses it before Yeosang even comes to the door, feels Yeosang’s presence outside the door, the heat of his emotions, and the slight panic that courses through his veins. He doesn’t need to be told that Mingi is having an episode because he can feel it. Which is why when Yeosang goes to knock on the door, Jongho opens it a breath too soon, and Yeosang nearly topples forward and trips over the air. Jongho doesn’t need to reach out and catch him – Yeosang stays on his two feet just fine – but he does regardless, rough hands hitting the much smaller man square in the chest to keep him from falling forward. He doesn’t need to ask, yet he does.

“Mingi?”

“Mess hall.”

“Okay. Did he hurt anyone?” Jongho has the questions memorized. No matter how many times he says them, the answers rarely change, and he knows Yeosang well enough to pick up on the emotional cues. That’s how he knows Wooyoung is fine before Yeosang even opens his mouth to tell him so.

“No, I got Wooyoung out of there before he could.”

“Hongjoong?”

“Tried already.”

“Yunho?”

“Couldn’t help.”

“Ah,” Jongho exhales, even though he already knew the answers to those questions before asking them. He’s the last resort. He always is. Hongjoong demands priority – he needs to feel useful somehow, but it always backfires and hurts him in the end. Then comes Yunho, the ever desperate healer, the arrogance that drives him to believe that he can fix everything and everyone – including Mingi. The reality, however harsh and cruel it may be, is that none of them are Jongho. None of them understand Mingi the way he does. None of them are Berserkers. It’s just a simple fact, but one that they can’t seem to wrap their minds around, which is why Jongho is always the last resort.

He pushes past Yeosang to step into the corridor. His steps are hurried but not frantic; there is no panic or worry in his bones as he walks towards the mess hall. It’s routine almost. Perhaps someone else might feel bitterness or some sort of resentment towards this system they have. Not Jongho though. He bears no hatred or thinly veiled anger about the arrangement they carry out. Part of him feels the tuggings of responsibility when he looks at Mingi. When he looks at Mingi and sees… something. Something different, something painful, something raw and broken.

When Mingi first joined the crew, the others all expected Jongho to understand him. To read him like a book and take him apart with ease. He hadn’t been able to do that at any point in time. Because he and Mingi are not the same, never have been and never will be. Jongho was raised by a loving mother and father. A mother who was a Berserker just like him, who took care of him and looked after him without any hesitation. Taught him everything there was to know about what it meant to be a Berserker. Mingi, on the other hand, was not given that luxury. His father never loved him; he loved money. Power. Blood. And that’s what Mingi gave him, because it was the only thing he knew.

The mess hall is quiet when he steps inside. Not empty, but quiet. Hongjoong stands at the edge of the room, leaning up against the frame of the entrance with arms crossed over his chest. Disappointment radiates off him in waves, but not directed at anyone except himself. Yunho stands beside him with a similar stance, although he can’t look at Mingi’s curled form. The room is otherwise empty, and that’s probably for the best. And Mingi. Mingi lies on the floor, not near the center but somewhere off to the side between a few tables. He’s on his hands and knees, back curved in a way that is painful to look at, and as Jongho draws nearer, he can see the tremble in his shoulders. He doesn’t think to ask what happened. It wouldn’t be necessary anyway. He barely notices that Yeosang is no longer hot on his heels and following his steps.

“It’s too much of a burden to put on his shoulders.”

Hongjoong doesn’t verbalize the words, but he can feel them regardless. Words that have been muttered and whispered against hot ears when they think Jongho can’t hear them. None spoken with malice or hatred. Just… concern. Worry. Fear.

“He’s so young. Why do we push this onto him?”

Because Jongho understands him. Knows Mingi better than Mingi knows himself. Feels the things he feels, even if they were raised differently and experience it differently. He understands the control, the taut thread keeping Mingi tied to sanity, and how it threatens to snap. And when it wavers and trembles — that is where these episodes find him.

“I’m the captain. I should handle this myself.”

Hongjoong doesn’t understand it. The things that he wishes to understand are things that he can never hope to grasp.

“I’m a healer. A medic. This is my job.”

Yunho fails to realize that it isn’t his responsibility. It is his job, but not his burden to bear. He sees Mingi as something broken, when Mingi isn’t broken at all. Mingi is a bird that never learned to fly, a slave without a master, a boy robbed of his innocence too young. Not broken.

Jongho hesitates near Mingi. The older man doesn’t shift or make any indication of acknowledging him. The emotions are there though, and that’s how Jongho knows that Mingi is fully aware of his lingering presence behind him.

“Mingi,” he starts, tone so soft and quiet that he can barely hear it himself. Ever so slowly, he lets himself squat down beside Mingi’s body. Heat. It radiates off him in waves. Then in the corner, concern from Yunho, the lingering taste of disappointment from Hongjoong, and nothing else. Patience is a challenging game to play, even harder when it comes to Mingi, but necessary. Thus, Jongho waits. Watches the way Mingi’s shoulders tremble from effort, the tethered thread in his mind wavering but never breaking. He’s fighting it so hard. “Mingi, can you hear me?”

“I-I… can’t. Can’t. Need. N-Need it.” His tone is desperate and fragile. Nothing like the cruel and heartless killing monster he seems to be. Mingi brings a hand up to clasp the back of his neck. His nails tear at the skin in attempts to break it and draw blood.

“No, you don’t.” Mingi’s fingers falter. He hesitates. For a moment, his nails cease their warpath on his skin.

“I want to – want to k-kill.” Mingi lifts his chin a little. He doesn’t look up quite yet, and Jongho knows it’s because he can feel the lingering emotions at the other side of the room. He is more afraid of losing control than he should be. The danger is minimal. Mingi won’t kill either of them. Hongjoong knows it, as does Yunho, and Jongho as well. Mingi is the only one who doesn’t trust it.

“You don’t want to, Mingi,” Jongho insists, letting his elbows find purchase on his knees. Jongho gets it on occasion. The sudden urgings that Mingi suffers from – the need to take control over all the emotions hitting him from all sides. It manifests itself differently for every Berserker. For Jongho, it takes the form of guilt. Brings all his wrongdoings to life and places them before his eyes in a way that’s almost tangible. He can never overcome it alone, and that fact almost makes him feel weak. Yunho’s soft hands in his hair, San’s mellifluous voice in his ears, Seonghwa’s mint-like scent that permeates his senses until the hallucinations pass, Hongjoong’s emotions hitting him square in the chest and reminding him that this is real. It isn’t violent. Emotional, yes. Painful for himself and only himself. But for Mingi, it manifests in violence. Anger and every emotion on the spectrum of rage.

Mingi’s fingers draw away from his neck, but he brings the hand down to his other arm a second later. His nails dig deep, he’s desperate to break skin, he’s burning for the red that will flow from his flesh. Jongho can’t let him have it. If he does, then that thin thread of sanity will snap. Years of progress down the drain. A hard reset. He reaches out, hand brushing against Mingi’s shoulder blades.

Mingi jerks at the touch, almost as though he’s been burned. He doesn’t verbally cry out, but Jongho hears the pained cry in his movements and emotions. It hurts every time. A small and nagging sensation that never leaves Jongho alone, one he will think about for hours if not days after this. Mingi cries out for help and support but pushes it away at the same time. Desires help but doesn’t know how to ask for it.

“Mingi,” Jongho exhales as he brings his hand down on the man’s shoulder blades again. Mingi jolts at the touch, hand drawing up but not coming down on Jongho. He prepares himself for a hit and everything, but it never comes. Instead, Mingi brings his closed fist down on his own head, smacks his skull with too much force, an expression of pure anguish on his features. He’s fighting it. Jongho knows that Mingi’s mind is screaming for blood. To close his hands around Jongho’s throat and try to end it. The desire to kill… it’s not Mingi, but rather the Brute of Kebos. The monster his father created. It’s not Mingi. Jongho has to remind himself of that over and over again. It’s the only way he can look Mingi in the eye every day. His tone softens as he speaks. “They’re loud, aren’t they?”

“So loud. S-So loud. Can’t think. C-Cant–” Mingi cuts himself off, unable to finish the thought. Yunho once told Jongho that Mingi didn’t feel emotions. Just didn’t have the proper mind for it, and that he would have to be taught how to handle things. Jongho dared to tell Yunho to his face that he was wrong. Mingi feels emotions. He has them. It isn’t that his brain is wired the wrong way. It’s that he was never taught how to understand them. Mingi doesn’t know how to talk about his feelings because of that. Jongho can read him like a book, feel the heat radiating off him in waves and know what’s going through his head even if he blocks it out. Mingi’s emotions are overwhelming, even with Jongho’s resilience and restraint. All that to say – the pain Mingi is in now is enough to cripple Jongho and bring him fully to the ground. The aura is overwhelming, and for a breath of a moment, Jongho isn’t sure he can do what he’s supposed to do. The face of his mother taunts him at the edge of the room. He responds by closing his fingers around Mingi’s wrist, stopping the hallucination from blossoming as well as stopping Mingi from hitting himself any more.

“It’s okay, Mingi. They can’t hurt you here,” Jongho murmurs even though he knows that isn’t the brunt of the issue. Mingi’s wrist goes slack in his grip. For a second, Jongho thinks that the episode has passed, but then weight slams against him, and pain blooms in his chest. He falls back against one of the metal tables. Metal scrapes against metal, creating a loud and abrasive screech, then the floor disappears out from under Jongho. He doesn’t have time to defend himself. Mingi’s fingers close around his ankle, yanking back harshly until Jongho hits the floor. Pressure hits his chest. Jongho doesn’t even process it at first. Mingi’s knee stabs into his chest and pins him to the floor with little effort. However, Jongho is stronger than Mingi. They both know it. Jongho could flip their positions and have Mingi facedown on the floor in seconds. That isn’t what this is about though.

Progress.

“Mingi!”

Steps forward.

“Stop!”

Steps backward.

Yunho and Hongjoong are shouting, voices getting louder as they move closer, but Jongho manages to bring a hand up to stop them. They have zero reason to listen to him and no incentive either, especially because Mingi has one knee square in the middle of Jongho’s chest, the other pinning his right arm down, and both hands wrapped tight around Jongho’s throat. Perhaps he should be scared of what might happen next. Afraid that Mingi tightens his grip and chokes him to death. Both Yunho and Hongjoong are exuding so much fear and panic that it clogs Jongho’s senses, and if it’s affecting him that badly, then that means that Mingi is having a much worse time with it.

Yet despite having his life dangled before his eyes like this, Jongho isn’t afraid that Mingi might kill him. Maybe he’s psychotic for that, or perhaps he just trusts the fact that Mingi doesn’t want to do this that much. Yes, it has to be the latter. He lets Mingi keep him pinned to the floor, hand still raised in Hongjoong and Yunho’s direction and keeping them warded off for the time being. Mingi’s nails dig into the flesh of his throat.

Pain.

Pain, but not from the small crescents Mingi leaves in his neck.

The pain radiates off Mingi’s shoulders. He’s fighting himself so hard, fighting the instinct to kill, the urge to kill, the need to kill. He’s fighting the other part of himself, the one his father forged in blood and dark arenas. Mingi doesn’t know that he’s feeling pain necessarily; he merely knows that he’s hurting. He knows the strain hurts and burns, makes his skin crawl and itch, makes even breathing become a laborious task. Jongho lets his free hand move towards Mingi – each inch breached is slow and calculated as not to scare the man – and lays it atop the ones clasped over his throat.

“You can’t hurt me, Mingi,” he whispers. Mingi’s resolve flickers. For the briefest moment, he believes Jongho, eyes trailing over his own hands like they don’t belong to him.

“It… it hurts.”

“I know it does. Everything hurts, right? They’re loud in your head, telling you to kill.”

“Blood. They w-want blood.” Mingi’s fingers twitch around his neck. His nails dig a bit deeper, and Jongho feels them breach skin. It isn’t deep enough to draw blood, which is for the best because the second the first drop falls, Mingi will fly into a rampage.

“You don’t have to give it to them, Mingi.”

“They’ll hurt me if I don’t.”

“You’ll hurt me if you do.”

Mingi freezes at his words. His hands loosen a bit but don’t move away from Jongho’s body. It’s the last thing he wants, because as cruel and heartless and merciless as Mingi is, he doesn’t want to hurt Jongho. Doesn’t want to hurt Hongjoong or Yunho. Any of the crew. He wants to protect them; he just doesn’t understand how to do that because of the war that goes on in his mind.

“I… did I not already hurt you?” Mingi inquires, gaze curious as he tilts his head to the side. “Your emotions… they – they feel – I hurt you.”

“You didn’t. Tell me what you feel.”

“I don’t know what I feel!” Mingi argues, a spike of anger shooting out towards Jongho. He can barely choke out his next words thanks to the sudden clench of Mingi’s fingers around his throat.

“What I feel. M-Mingi, tell me – tell me what you feel from me.” He’s pushing hard, and perhaps it’s too much of a burden to put on Mingi’s shoulders like this, but at the same time, it’s not enough. Mingi is caught off-guard long enough for Jongho to gasp several deep breaths of air.

“You’re… warm.”

“Does it hurt?” This is the only way Jongho knows how to communicate with Mingi. He can’t name the emotions off one by one because Mingi wouldn’t understand what any of it means, but he does know how to talk about how he’s feeling without naming anything directly.

“N-No.”

“So, are you hurting me?”

Mingi shakes his head ever so slightly. Denial. This time, he believes it for more than a second. Mingi withdraws his hands from Jongho’s neck, letting him fully breathe again, and Jongho rolls out from under the taller Berserker before he can be pinned once more. He doesn’t move because he fears having his life in Mingi’s hands. He would gladly give his life over to the man time and time again if it meant protecting the others from harm. The storm that swirls in Mingi’s dark red eyes calms for the time being. The waters are peaceful. The voices are quiet. And Mingi… Mingi cries. Not for the first time, and not for the last, but he cries nonetheless, hands trembling as he holds them close to his chest. Behind them, the panic and fear radiating off Hongjoong and Yunho slowly dissipates. It grows calm again.

Jongho draws closer to Mingi, kneeling beside him and pressing a hand again Mingi’s shaking ones. It doesn’t stop the trembling or offer any comfort in the slightest. Jongho doesn’t expect it to. Mingi doesn’t understand comfort, only the need for it. But they’ll just keep trying until they find something that works. Like what Hongjoong does next. The short captain walks towards where Jongho and Mingi are and squats down in front of ashy-haired Berserker.

“You pulled yourself out of it, Mingi,” he says, tone quiet but clear. It carries weight with it, one that Mingi picks up on within an instant.

“I al-almost–”

“But you didn’t. You didn’t kill anyone. Didn’t hurt anyone.” A smile twitches across Hongjoong’s lips, soft and gentle as he gazes down at Mingi’s slumped form. “I’m proud of you.”

The simple four words hold more than should be humanly possible, but Jongho supposes that it makes sense since he and Mingi aren’t wholly human. Mingi’s tears halt only long enough for him to offer an awkward yet grateful smile. Hongjoong eats it right up. He reaches across the gap between him and Mingi, not concerned for a second that Mingi could snap his arm in half at the slightest trigger, and drops his hand to the mop of hair atop his head. A small ruffle of the locks, fingers gently combing over Mingi’s scalp, then pulling away. Jongho wants to imagine that Mingi leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering shut as an overwhelming sense of peace washed over his body.

✧✧✧ a/n: surprise?? this is definitely one that was unexpected for me but i was struck with a sudden realization and plan for mingi’s character progression and how he functions as a character, and this idea wouldn’t leave me alone so i just had to write it and post it today because we’ve got regular chapter tomorrow osidjafoidj but i hope you guys like it!! i think this is the most important interim chapter and has a lot of impact on mingi’s character in the main plot sooo yee lemme know what you think!

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[jokertrap-ran]

(未定事件簿) 夏彦 SR [忆中人] [Tears of Themis] Xia Yan SR [Reminiscent Person] Card Story Translations (Part 3)

*Tears of Themis Masterlist  / Mobile Masterlist *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Xia Yan’s personal tag will be #Tears of a PI. Personal master-list under construction! *Only the messages left before I start Mo Yi’s new Fairytale SR...  (*´艸｀*)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / SMS

Location: Staff Lounge

The lights came back on again, and I found myself standing in the Staff Lounge.

The Gamemaster that had disappeared earlier was facing me, all smiles.

Gamemaster: Hello young miss, it's been quite a while. I waited a really long time for you two to split up.

MC: So that was you. You really scared the living daylights out of me just now.

Gamemaster: I didn't have much of a choice; I had to take the chance to steal you away.

MC: So, what exactly is being tested in this segment?

He gave me an inscrutable smile.

Gamemaster: Didn’t you guys already find the slip of paper? What did it say?

MC: Find me, take me… You mean, he’s supposed to find me?

Gamemaster: That’s right. We'll dress you up to look like the Staff to see if that boyfriend of yours can recognize and single you out from the rest.

Gamemaster: Okay, we're running short of time, so hurry and get changed in the changing room.

Waiting inside the changing room was a veil along with a matching dress with a couple of skull-like ornaments hanging from it…

It looked like something right out of the "Corpse Bride"; a movie that was more popular during this period. The only difference from the movie was that this veil was very heavy.

After putting it on, the black veil that hung in front of my eyes made it hard to make out what was in front of me.

MC: This… is really opaque...

MC: I think I'll be better off holding it first...

After changing into the "costume" with ease, I walked out of the changing room, only to see five other girls of similar build to me, all warning the same outfit.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Location: In the Secret Room

The Staff Member opened another one of the Lounge's doors. It was clearly obvious that it led to another, completely new room.

MC: Why does this place have that many rooms...

Gamemaster: It's something that I painstakingly designed myself to utilize every single bit of space available here.

Gamemaster: Plus, this house didn't exactly come cheap either.

Putting the veil on, I lined up with the rest of the girls, mimicking their posture with my back to the door.

Gamemaster: Now young miss, you cannot move or make any sound from now on.

Gamemaster: You have to listen closely to me from now on.

MC: Okay. Rest assured; you have my full cooperation.

After thoroughly warning me a couple more times, the Staff Member opened a door that led to a corridor.

Xia Yan's rapid footsteps sounded closer and closer to the room.

Xia Yan: (Y/n)? Is that you? Are you here?

His tone was filled with worry, but I could not reply.

Gamemaster: Congratulations, Mister. You and your bride have already reached the last stage of the Cursed Castle.

Gamemaster: Please choose a bride to take with you. The curse will only be unraveled if you pick the right bride.

Xia Yan released the deep breath that he had been holding, his entire body seemingly relaxing from its former tenseness, only his voice held the slightest bit of shakiness.

Xia Yan: That's great. I was really worried about you just now even though I know that this must also be part of the game line-up.

I could only judge his current position from where his voice came from since I had my back facing him.

But I had an odd feeling that Xia Yan was currently looking straight in my direction.

MC: (I think I'm overthinking things. There's no way he'd be able to tell who's who from this far away, right…?)

MC: (Not to mention how we're all wearing such a long veil…)

Gamemaster: Sir, you can stand 5 meters away from these few brides to observe them closely…

Gamemaster: You can order them to do something, but it cannot be to turn around or to remove their veil.

Xia Yan: No need. I don't require them to do anything.

Xia Yan: Can I go over now?

Gamemaster: Have you already decided? You only have but one chance.

Xia Yan: Of course. I'm very certain of my choice.

My heart started beating more and more fiercer the closer Xia Yan stepped towards me.

My hand was grabbed tightly by his, and I could feel the heat coming from the palm of his hand.

Gamemaster: Since you've already come to a decision, then how about you ask the bride to turn around?

He exerted a little force on his arm, forcefully turning me the other way around. But the veil covering my eyes was lifted before I was able to make a full turn.

I was caught off guard as everything before my eyes suddenly came into clear focus again.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

I was caught off guard as everything before my eyes suddenly came into clear focus again.

Reflexively, I looked back at the person behind me under the dim light.

A pair of eyes sparkling with absolute mirth entered my field of vision.

He leaned down, inching closer to the cover of the veil, his warm breath fanning out on my face.

MC: Xia… Xia Yan…

The heavy veil obscured the figure of another, who was standing beside him. He was the one and only person in my world at this moment in time.

Xia Yan: Found you; my bride.

MC: ……

I was acutely aware of the fact that this whole “bride” business was only a part of the game’s story, but yet, I couldn’t help the blush that adorned my face as it heated up.

Those two words were just like little fawns, messing up my already restless heart even more.

Xia Yan: I told you that I'd definitely find you.

This moment saw his eyes filled with absolute seriousness and resolution.

He resembled a knight from the fairy tales I'd read back when I was a kid, solemnly vowing to the princess.

MC: How… How did you recognize me?

I stumbled over my words before eventually finding my voice.

He paused for a moment, as if he didn't expect me to throw such a question at him.

Xia Yan: Why wouldn't I?

MC: I had my back to you and the veil is so long...

He grinned at that.

Xia Yan: Because you're you!

Xia Yan: Your face, your voice, your silhouette; I’ve already committed them to memory.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

"Because you're you!" “Your face, your voice, your silhouette; I’ve already committed them to memory.” 

Those two lines continued repeating themselves in my mind all the way till we walked out of the room.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Location: Rest Area

Xia Yan: What's on your mind, (Y/n)?

MC: Oh, nothing! I was just lost in my thoughts.

Xia Yan: Come on, hurry up! The Store Owner’s calling us over!

The Staff Member dressed in the black swallowtail coat from earlier was beckoning us from afar.

Xia Yan dragged me along while I was still caught up in a daze.

Xia Yan: Mr. Gamemaster! I never thought that you’d be the owner of this establishment.

Owner: What, can’t the owner take customer feedback?

Xia Yan: Of course not; it was just a little surprising.

Owner: Haha, the both of you cleared it way too quickly that you’ve even broken the highest record to be recorded in establishment.

Owner: Our Store will customize a special gift as a prize for you guys.

MC: A customized gift? What kind?

Owner: Let's keep this a secret first. You'll know once you come fetch it.

Owner: Come, come. The two of you should take a picture together in commemoration.

We both stood before the camera at the owner’s warm insistence.

Owner: What are the two of you being all shy for? Get closer! How about you hold your boyfriend’s hand, young lady?

MC: Oh, er…okay, sure…

I held onto Xia Yan’s hand a little awkwardly. Well, we did sign up for this challenge as a couple after all.

Owner: Do something, strike a pose, anything. It’s not like you’re taking a wedding photo or anything, so why are you standing so straight like that?

Xia Yan: *Coughs* W-Wedding...photo…?

Xia Yan started coughing, a blush on his face, almost as if he had been choked by his own saliva.

I reached a hand out towards him, attempting to help him catch his breath.

Snap!

And that was how this somewhat comical moment got recorded on camera.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

A week later.

Location: Coffee Shop

The day where we’d arranged to meet with the Experience Hall’s Owner arrived, and Xia Yan and I decided to go receive our prize together.

Coincidentally, Li Xu, Xia Yan’s Client, wanted to thank Xia Yan for his work, so we decided to meet him in a nearby coffee shop.

Li Xu: Hello, Xia Yan, Miss (Y/n). 

Li Xu was sitting alone in a corner of the Coffee Shop. Upon seeing us enter, he nodded and gestured towards us.

Xia Yan: How was it?

Li Xu: Thanks to the information you’ve given me, I prepared for an entire week ever since I got my hands on the questions and memorized every segment a good many times over.

Li Xu: I even went and watched lots of videos on “guess the drawing” and “Charades”, but it was still pretty tough, in the end.

Li Xu: Thankfully, I managed to hold out till the time limit was over and passed it.

MC: (Why does he sound like he’s describing his finals instead…?)

Xia Yan: It’s great that everything went well. Now, I can report back the good results.

MC: Report?

Xia Yan: Yup. Didn’t I tell you before that he is… a relative of an acquaintance of mine?

Li Xu: Thank you for helping me, Detective Xia. I’d never have made it past that challenge alone...

None of us were aware of the person who had been seated at the table behind him, nor for how long said person had been present. And it was this exact same moment that the girl seated behind him suddenly stood up, coming up straight before him.

???: You liar! So, you hired a Detective!? Our Tacit Understanding between each other was all just a lie!? That detective was helping you behind the scenes!?

Li Xu: J-Jia Jia? What are you doing here?

???: Never thought that I’d turn up here now, did you? And here I was wondering why you’d come to a place like this that’s so far away from your home... 

???: You liar! I’ll never believe you again!

Seeing his girlfriend about to leave, Li Xu hurriedly stood up and grabbed onto her hand.

Li Xu: No, listen to me...

The way that Li Xu stuttered simply went to show that he was very guilty about it, thus confirming the suspicions that the girl before him harbored in her heart.

She flung his arm away, picking up the bag that she had left atop her chair and made to leave.

Seeing how she was determined to leave, Xia Yan and I both shot out of our seats.

MC: Miss, you’re really misunderstanding Mr. Li.

MC: He did hire the Detective, but the Tacit Understanding between the two of you isn’t fake.

???: Who are you and on what basis am I to believe what you’re saying?

Xia Yan: Hello, miss. My name’s Xia Yan, I’m the Detective who’s in charge of this investigation.

Xia Yan: And this is my assistant, (Y/n).

???: I’m Deng Jia, his girlfriend.

Deng Jia glared at Li Xu as she spoke. And Xia Yan hurriedly attempted to help Li Xu explain himself. 

Xia Yan: Li Xu only wanted me to investigate and see what the game itself entails. All I did was to tell him the possible questions that might be asked.

Xia Yan: He derived all the answers to those questions on his own.

Deng Jia looked at Li Xu a little suspiciously.

Deng Jia: You didn’t ask this detective to find out what my habits and my likes and dislikes are?

Li Xu: Of course not, why would I!?

Li Xu’s eyes widened in shock at the accusation.

Deng Jia: So you spent the money to hire this detective, all just to find out the contents of the game? Who in their right mind would do such a lose-lose transaction?

Li Xu: No… My cousin’s a friend of Detective Xia’s...

Xia Yan: I didn’t take any money from him; I only helped a friend, who came to me with a request, out.

Listening to Li Xu going round in circles about the matter, Xia Yan couldn’t do anything but to cut in and interrupt him.

The girl’s fury simmered down quite a bit after hearing the explanation, but she still harbored a few suspicions.

Deng Jia: Even if that’s the case… What you did was still a hasty effort made at the last minute.

Xia Yan appeared somewhat clueless as to how to carry on with the conversation, shooting me pleading look for help.

I sighed, turning to explain it all to Deng Jia patiently.

MC: Miss, calm down and think about it. He could have asked you about your likes and dislikes beforehand...

MC: But things like habits are very trivial and small, so not even a Detective can find out about all your little quirks in the mere span of a few days.

MC: Besides, the memories you two share are complex, so how would he remember all of it, if he didn’t make the extra effort to notice everything that went on?

MC: And, even if he did prepare all of those in-time, then what about the last segment where he had to choose a bride? How, then, would he be able to cheat?

Deng Jia seemed to have remembered something, her expression slightly faltering. Li Xu stood dumbly by the side, rooted to his spot, rubbing a hand over his arm that hung by his side.

MC: So, how about you here what Mr. Li has to say, Miss?

Deng Jia pursed her lips, silently looking at Li Xu. Li Xu breathed a deep sigh before finally raising his head and fixing her with a serious look.

Li Xu: I didn’t cheat; I remember all your habits and your likes and dislikes very clearly.

Li Xu: I also remember that it’s been 3 years since the first time we met. The first time you ever talked to me was to ask if you could borrow a pen of mine, and that we went for barbeque the first time we ever went out for a meal together...

Li Xu: The first time we ever went out together alone was to the Library, and the place where you agreed to be my girlfriend was the second tree to the left downstairs of your house...

Deng Jia: Okay… Okay, enough! I get it.

Listening to his chain of silly, yet absolutely direct confessions, Deng Jia’s cheeks reddened.

Even the anger that she had harbored in her voice steadily disappeared.

Deng Jia: If you’re not afraid of being tested, then why look to a Detective for help?

Li Xu: Only because I wasn’t sure if you’d be unhappy or dissatisfied with me after playing this game…

Li Xu: I don’t want you to be mad, but I was afraid that you’d ignore me after, just like the other couples who’ve gone through this; so I did my homework in advance.

Li Xu: I know that I can’t speak very well since I’m a bookworm, so all I can do to make you happy is to study things up in advance.

Li Xu said everything in all but a single breath, looking as if he had used up all his confidence to convey that. He lowered his head but couldn’t withstand the urge to secretly peak up at his girlfriend.

And it was at this moment, that all of Deng Jia’s anger vanished into thin air.

Deng Jia: I… I…

Her face was red and she looked a little shy about it.

Deng Jia: It wasn’t in my intention to put you to the test. It hasn’t been long since we got together, so it’s normal if you don’t understand me all that well.

Deng Jia: You’re always very quiet, so I thought that maybe we could learn more about each other through this game.

Deng Jia: I never thought… That you’d actually still remember things from that long ago.

Her face gradually reddened as she stepped forwards and grabbed onto Li Xu’s sleeve.

Seeing that, Xia Yan and I quietly took our leave from the coffee shop.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Location: Downtown

We both heaved a huge sigh of relief upon stepping out of the coffee shop.

MC: I thought that they were really going to fight and break up right then and there, but it was thankfully only a false alarm.

Xia Yan: Yeah, if his girlfriend was truly mad, then I’d only have brought him more trouble than help.

MC: Thankfully, Deng Jia doesn’t seem like an unreasonable person either.

MC: But I feel like Li Xu’s stepping on eggshells way too much around her; it’s almost as if he’s afraid of saying the wrong thing...

Xia Yan: Actually, Li Xu told me that he had been harboring a crush on her for nearly 3 years now and finally confessed after no longer being able to keep it a secret any longer back when he first came to me with this job.

Xia Yan: He honestly never thought that his revered goddess would agree to dating him, so he always feels as if he’s unworthy of having such a girlfriend.

MC: So that’s why he’s being so careful around her? Fearing that he might say something wrong, or do something wrong?

Xia Yan: That’s how it is...

Xia Yan spread his hands and shrugged at that, sighing helplessly.

Xia Yan: And that’s precisely why I didn’t want to take any money from him for this. Anything and everything he wanted me to look into was clearly only to allow himself to have some assurance and an easier peace of mind.

Xia Yan: Although, I can understand where he’s coming from.

Xia Yan: Who wouldn’t hesitate and waver before their most favorite person in the world?

Xia Yan: It’s only because he’s way too concerned about how they’d think that he turned to self-doubting.

Xia Yan’s voice sounded a little off, but he didn’t show any hints of there being something wrong when I turned to look at him.

It was as though he had just been thinking about the matter with utter seriousness.

MC: But he’ll only be missing out on more of the beautiful things if he’s walking on eggshells that much.

MC: They’d be unable to pass the stage either, if Deng Jia didn’t understand him well enough.

Xia Yan: It’s unfortunate, but apparently, Li Xu didn’t seem to notice that fact.

MC: Li Xu was all caught up about whether or not he was worthy of his girlfriend that he neglected what his girlfriend really wanted; a companion to accompany her.

Xia Yan: Yeah, he ended up ignoring the most important thing… Which was what his partner truly wanted.

Xia Yan halted in his footsteps, quietly looking at me, eyes full of smiles.

MC: What? Why are you suddenly staring at me?

Xia Yan: Nothing! Let’s hurry and get our prize!

I don’t know if it was just my imagination, but Xia Yan’s tone sounded much lighter, and much more carefree than how it was just now.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Location: Experience Hall Front Desk

Owner: You’re here now, are you? Your prize is already finished.

Upon entering the store, the Owner walked towards us with a smile, a small box in his hands.

MC: Is this our prize?

Owner: Yup, hurry, open it up and have a look at it.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Xia Yan took the paper box from the Owner and slowly opened it.

Sitting quietly within the box was a pair of exquisite dolls. They were about palm-sized and were made in Chibi style.

MC: Oh… Are these… Dolls of us?

There were two dolls, a girl and a boy, both with happy smiles on their faces. And the color of their clothes was exactly the same as the outfits that Xia Yan and I had previously worn here.

Owner: That’s right, this was made according to both of your appearances.

Xia Yan: No wonder you insisted that we take a photo together. So, it was for the sake of making these dolls.

Owner: How are they? Do you like them?

MC: Yes, I do! I honestly never thought that these would be what we’re getting; thank you Owner!

Xia Yan: I really like them too. Sorry for troubling you with making these.

After chatting with the Owner for a bit, Xia Yan and I left the Experience Hall.

Before we left, the Owner beamed at us and told us that he hoped we’d come by again once they had another theme rotation.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Location: Downtown

The sun was already sinking westward when we walked out of the mall, the light of the setting sun filling the streets.

MC: The sunset’s really beautiful today.

Xia Yan and I both unconsciously stopped to quietly admire the beauty of this short-lived scene.

Xia Yan: Right, you should take the pair of dolls home.

Xia Yan: You’ll be able to see me every day upon returning home if you place them against the headboard of your bed.

His smile appeared much warmer under the light of the setting sun. His smile was contagious, for I found myself smiling along with him in no time at all. 

MC: No can’t do! I can’t take them with me if that’s how it’s going to be.

Xia Yan paused, doubt flickering across his features.

Xia Yan: Why…? Do you not like them?

MC: Of course, I do.

MC: But I can only take one of them home. I’ll entrust my doll to you!

MC: You can put it on your nightstand; that way, I’ll also be accompanying you!

Xia Yan: M’kay.

The fiery red sun was slowly entering the cluster or clouds up in the sky, and before we knew it, there were a couple more people around us stopping to admire the scene.

Xia Yan: I've actually also had my own share of worries, just like Li Xu, about whether we'll be able to successfully re-connect with each other.

Xia Yan: Is 8 years apart really… Have I missed too much of your life in my absence?

Thinking back to all the questions I had gotten wrong back in the Maze, I let out a helpless sigh.

MC: We've really grown and changed in those 8 years.

MC: But thankfully, we're still the same as how we left off, despite having changed so much.

Xia Yan: Thankfully, we're still the only ones who know each other the best.

MC: Hey, Xia Yan? You should really tell me more about your life during these 8 years whenever you have the time.

Xia Yan: Sure. I want to hear what you've gone through too.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Location: Xia Yan's House

Xia Yan had only just gotten home when his phone rang.

Taking out his phone, a familiar number entered his sight.

Xia Yan: Hello? What’s up, Brother Yang?

Yang Xiao: Nothing; Li Xu asked me to convey his thanks to you.

Xia Yan: Don’t make me take up jobs like this ever again… This time’s the only exception so don’t make an example out of it!

Yang Xiao: I don’t want to bother you either, but I really didn’t have any options this time!

Yang Xiao: I can’t not help my distant cousin if he needs help; I even held him in my arms and played with him when he was little!

Yang Xiao: Come find me if you encounter any trouble. Looking at how caught up you always get, I owe you one, and we're also pretty similar to boot.

Xia Yan gave a wry laugh at Yang Xiao’s merciless teasing.

Xia Yan: Stop making fun of me, Brother Yang.

Yang Xiao: Anyway, thank you for this time; seriously.

Xia Yan: No need to be so humble. Honestly speaking, I should be the one thanking you instead.

Hanging up the phone, he picked up the gift from the Experience Hall.

The exquisite doll laid quietly in his hands, the brilliant smile on its face was exactly the same as hers.

Xia Yan looked at the masterpiece in his hands tenderly, a smile playing on his lips.

Xia Yan: Let us slowly make up for the 8 years that we've missed.

——𝔉𝔦𝔫.——

#Tears of Themis #Xia Yan #Translations #Otome #Mihoyo #未定事件簿 #夏彦 #忆中人 #Reminiscent Person #午夜华章 #Symphony of the Night #Tears of a PI #Okamoto Nobuhiko

[killem-all-if-they-wont-eat-cake]

Image: Freja och Svipdag (1911) by John Bauer

My text "Freyja en Svipdag" published in Covidnine-zine, a magazine edited by the wonderful Winnie Sluis, idealized by Winnie and Lisa @oppergod, with collaboration of several amazing artists.

“With her eyes closed and very sleepy, she could feel the sea breeze on her face and hear the sound of the tide breaking in nine waves, one after the other, until she finally managed to open her eyelids.

At first, she discerned arches and pillars through the blurred image, which she later identified as the ruins of an old cathedral. The stone foundations of this structure immediately reminded her of Glastonbury Abbey. The sound of the violin came to her, as well as the seagulls’ song and the gallop of a gray horse mounted by a masked young man, who headed in her direction. On the beach, an old lady recited the stanzas of ancient poems. Coffins swept across the sand, such as fragments of a shipwreck. The corpse of the violinist, who once was Yorick, the court jester, suddenly stopped the music, marveling at the horizon and contemplating his next song, as follows:

'Oh  Páter if I only knew who she was...  I swear I would have sought her earlier!  Oh Páter, here comes Gwena, who traces  This plot, full of diminished chords...

Tis  fire, aye, ‘tis pipe’s ember,  Burning slow and steady, steaming  And if I inhale, choke and clear my throat  Bitter-sweet is her surrender, such a delight  This woman...

Yet  I think she keeps  Something restrained  For the One of the strings...

She  dares not look but only glimpse

Her  bearing ever so high,  Still entrapped in a gilded cage  From which one tries to break  With a treble clef... Egnis! Egnis!

Aye,  see as it burns strong,

It is painful for Gaius,  Her way of walking and fluttering  Always a promise of the foreign

 Though  beware not to cut yourself;  For she is like As-Sirāt,  Even if broken, she remains sharp.

More  so she is intricate and complex,  Full of ardor and nothing else,  And seems entirely anti-flustered  Ah! ... but if there is a breach...

 “Tis  for sure the apple-tree”  I answer myself.  Since when I wandered haphazardly,  Wandering, wondering, though not seeing  If there was indeed an olive tree...

 Thus,  if the fire she already brought;  And I always have some cider;  Only the gold is wrought...

What  fire is that?  Mighty and aristocratic,  Convoluted and anti-pragmatic.

Alas,  we get to the story’s end,

If  you expected me to be light-hearted

To  speak of her beauty or noble

character,

 You  don’t see me for who I really am

For  only the sublime pain of a burn

Compares  to shall be required

To  conquer her troublesome

Spirit.

 Nevertheless,  if I allow myself

A  final indulgence, I think it goes

Without  saying.. that she’s beautiful,

Dignified,  and a relief to the eyes,

(Though  quite difficult to contain)

That’s  why I have fallen...O Páter!”

The rider dismounted and removed his mask, revealing a quite familiar face.

Then he burst into tears, moans, and screams, calling out the name “Sophie! Sophie!” A cacophony of chimes and carillon began at an Episcopal belfry, the imposing figure of a castle appeared behind the mist. Brísingamen, the fiery torque, sparkled around her neck as she rose, entirely dressed in white. The young man, who wore black garments, offered her his hand, and spoke:

 “Dear Sophie, your father awaits us.”

 The strangest thing happened; she felt her lips moving without having ordered so. “My darling Joris, at last you have come for me.”

 Although she did not know exactly how, she remembered the young man in front of her was her betrothed, and that they referred to each other by the names of the saints which the ephemeris fell on their respective birthdays. His on the feast day of Sint-Joris van Cappadocië, and hers on that of St. Sophie van Rome.

 “Sophie, the owl told me the baker shall hold a banquet in our honour!”

 “O, here, have a daisy” she said, taking a flower from the garland adorning her long blonde hair. “I would give you give you some violets, but they all withered when the fishmonger sailed to Crete.”

 “Indeed, Aerope told me that Catreus’ ashes are still warm.”

 They walked side by side, with hands intertwined, wearing wicked smiles as they climbed the hill where the castle's Tor stood. Upon arriving, they were received by the King of Guilder and the rest of his progeny.

 “Welcome, my children, to Kasteel Groninger! Our earthly paradise. Pray, remember the road ahead is still long. Fredegund anxiously awaits Siegbert's return, in deep sleep at the Mountain of Obstacles. Do not forget that: Fafnir must yet perish and Sigrdrífa still needs to be stripped of her armour” King Aegir affectionately warned, embracing both Sophie, whom he recognized as his youngest daughter, and Joris, his future son-in-law.

 "Your majesty, I assure you I shall be worthy enough to wed Lady Menglöð" replied Joris, referring to Sophie, the princess of Guilder, by her true name.

 “Heer Valentijn,” asked King Aegir, also calling Joris by his birth name “I believe the sacrifice of Galswintha will not have been in vain: Faith, Hope and Charity shall be glorified, but do not forget to greet your new sisters.”

 With their faces veiled and sitting on the stairs of an old church, the nine daughters of Aegir, presented themselves one by one. The oldest was called Schnecke, “Bloody-hair”, thus called in virtue of her red hair; the second went by the name of Mimi, the “Billow”, therefore known due to her being prone to fits of nervousness; the third was called Caroline, the “Comber”, because of her explosive temper; the fourth answered by Lily, “Pearl-transparent”, on the account of her translucent complexion; the fifth was named Henriette, the “Small-Wave”, due to her short height; the sixth answered by Olga, the “Lifting”, on account of her extraordinary intelligence; the seventh was called Hannah, the “Great-Wave”, thus known for her bulkiness;  the eighth daughter was Jeannette, called the “Well of Origin” for having the habit of reciting prophetic riddles every time somebody asked her something; the last of them, Friederike, the “Cool-Wave”, was therefore called on account of her cold manners.

 Each of them, as Joris approached, answered him with witty sentences related to each of their epithets. At the end of these parables, King Aegir once again addressed him:

 “Valentijn van Florin, I give you my word as sovereign of Guilder that the most beautiful flower in my garden is your dear Sophie, who at this very hour tomorrow you shall take as your wife. Such a marriage will unite our two rival kingdoms under a single crown, as intended your kinsman, Prince Humperdinck, though in far less auspicious circumstances.”

 The bride and the groom waltzed through the castle, covering the walls of each room with snow. Whenever Joris asked if she wanted to be his wife, Sophie burst into hysterical laughing, which echoed throughout the stairs. Sometimes she replied she first owed vassalage to another lord, who was certainly sterner and bonier. This ‘danse macabre’ continued until they faced the stained windows of the cathedral, when the black priest signaled them to stop. For this reason, the nine waves blew out the candles on the candelabrum, one by one, forming a fairy-ring around the two of them and joining their dance wildly.

 Joris mused for a moment and said:

 “Three times nine girls, but one girl rode ahead,

white-skinned under her helmet;

the horses were trembling, from their manes

dew fell into the deep valleys,

hail in the high woods;

good fortune comes to men from there;

all that I saw was hateful to me.”

 For the celebrations to continue Sophie was taken to the hall of Suttungr, while Joris was given the task of finding the severed head of Mimir. Locked up in the chamber of Invitation to Battle, Sophie was punished for exercising her prerogative in choosing differently from what the All-father had commanded. There, Huginn and Muninn, her liege's crows, whispered bad omens at her ears as she repeatedly painted a Byzantine icon of the Virgin of Mercy.

 “Torture me all you want,” she said to her tormentors “a tearing joy overwhelms my soul. Plato's aesthetic dictates the beauty of forms is equivalent to the greater good and that which is purer. I merely follow the example of Paris in his preference for the ‘kallistei’; the beloved is always chosen for blind love, and only love. I admit I may be wrong, but I still believe that his heart is as good and generous as I sensed on our first meeting. The world is sustained by hope, we believe in what we want to believe and how we want to believe; it does not matter if nature and experience tell us otherwise. My dreams have never betrayed me, my heart has never lied to me: it is necessary to follow one’s deepest desires, for they are ordained by the Norns.”

 In retaliation, the crows of the one-eyed king pecked at her ears until her neck was covered in blood. Ignoring the pangs of pain, Sophie continued to draw the icon that depicted a beautiful sleeping maiden, whose closed eyes showed an expression of tenderness and parted lips outlined a tenuous, albeit provocative smile, as though she was caught in a sensuous dream.

 Hence, Sophie chanted in low voice:

“What sort of dream is that, Odin?

I dreamed I rose up before dawn

to clear up Valhöll for slain people.

I aroused the Einheriar,

bade them get up to strew the benches,

clean the beer-cups,

the valkyries to serve wine

for the arrival of a prince.”

At the same time, Joris rode up to the Mountain of Obstacles, where the earth shook and a pit of flames reaching the sky surrounded the red gold of the gods. In this desolate place, the guardian at the gate, who was also the chieftain of the dwarves, gave Joris the sword of anger and the shield of wisdom with which he was able to defeat the horrible serpent, Jörmungandr.

After licking a drop of the creature’s blood on his finger, Joris was given the gift of understanding the crows’ language, which then instigated him to come to the chamber of Invitation to Battle. As soon as he entered the room, he blew on the horn he carried on his neck by a chain. The Virgin awoke from her feverish dream.

Sitting on a golden throne, the queen-like Sophie gladly received him in her father's hall:

“For nine lives I have awaited you, and for nine days you have hanged on the Sefirotic Tree. To you I give my gray horse, so you can ride to Gamla Uppsala; for Memory can only be restored when Gjallahorn descends to the well of origin. There, Heidr will offer you one of her full tits. Drink patiently, but steadily.”

“Frigga, my dear wife, all I ask is for you to grant me knowledge of the nine worlds.”

Before proceeding with her husband’s request, Sophie prayed for eloquence and intelligence, taking her lute in her hand, singing the most beautiful song of shadow and dawn. She praised the day, the night, the gods and goddesses, and the Holy Land where the Nazarene was crucified. After prayer, she harvested liquid from three of her father’s most precious cauldrons and prepared the elixir of life and death, stating it contained enchantments, blessings, songs and runes of power, manliness and pleasure of the flesh and soul.

Sophie told Joris that in the beginning there was nothing, and this nothing was called Njörun. When Njörun became aware of herself, she begot Njöðr. From the union between these two, Mardöll was born. The latter was self-suficient, loving herself and being therefore happy. However, curiosity caused the goddess to create a mirror from her own breath, and when she contemplated her own reflection, she fell madly in love with it. Since then, she divided herself in two: Mardöll of Fire, who saw the image, and Mardöll of Ice, the image seen. After tracing a runic symbol on her body and whispering over it, her reflection became Yngve, her twin brother. The two of them began a frantic dance that culminated in intercourse, from where emerged the rest of the runic spirits.

Sophie then told him how Mardöll first taught the runes to the All-father, how he held the head of Mimir and uttered wise words; and that from them flowed the worlds of the Æsir, Vanir, giants, elves, and humanity. She went on to count all the kinds of runes that Joris needed to know and how to use them. At last asking him if he would like speech or silence from her. To which Joris replied he was not afraid of knowing his fate, even if that meant death.

Shortly after, she took his horn, in which she poured the Mead of Poetry, while rambling: “The beautiful should not perish; the fair should not perish. Eternal love of immortal soul, glittering through my skin like fins. Drop by drop, your spirit will return to me, the first drop will be heavenly!”

The moment Joris took the last sip of this precious drink, the walls opened, and the drums played. King Aegir and the nine waves were finally welcomed to the wedding feast. Circling an oath-ring on a trunk, the sovereign of Guilder joined the hands of his daughter and son-in-law, making a cut on each of their palms so that their blood could mix. Joris and Sophie intertwined their fingers and together declared:

“Ubi tu Askr

Ego Embla;

Ubi tu Embla,

Ego Askr.”

“When thou art the Ash

I shall be the Elm;

When thou art the Elm

I shall be the Ash.”

“Grímnir, the greatest of all gods, is here, he proclaims you to be one flesh, consecrated to him” decreed King Aegir as the newlyweds resumed their bridal dance, accompanied by the nine waves, who happily sang:

“Stampa hårt i marken,

Låt säden flyta  runt,

Ta emot den unga  flickan,

Frej i älskog,

Freja i älskog.”

“Step hard on the ground,

Let the seed fly,

Welcome the Young Maiden,

Freyr in lovemaking,

Freyja in lovemaking.”

Joris enveloped Sophie in a lustful embrace, with each whirl more ardent than before, ‘til they both lost their balance and fell backwards in the hay. At this moment, Thanatos, the black priest showed up uninvited:

“I am a polar bear who has floated here from Greenland on an iceberg. May the gods bless your matrimony with such perennial beauty as that from the coupling of Zeus and Leda. As a wedding gift, I bring you a veil made for an Arabian princess. Please, accept it. O Vanadís, daughter of the king of kings.”

Upon hearing this, Sophie let out a long shriek. She understood what those words meant. For three nights, she and Joris made love at moonlight, in the presence of the court of Guilder and all the creatures of the universe. On the morning of the fourth day, he had to leave her side to wander the nine worlds, bringing the sacred knowledge he acquired to whichever mortals he found. Weeping, Sophie bade adieu to her husband with the following greeting:

“My will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom as great. My sisters receive the heroes at Fólkvangr, serving mead to those slain in battle. When the ash commune with the elm, you shall return to me. Not a second after, not a second before.”

The black priest then proceeded to lead them to the calvary, placing two wreaths of thorns on their heads. “I crown thee, Freyja and Óðr.”

For nine days and nights, Sophie bitterly mourned her lost husband, crying tears of gold for his sake. Once again trapped in the Mountain of Obstacles, she cried out for mercy to the one who was older than time itself:

“That man hon fólkvig fyrst í heimi,

er Gullveig geiru studdu

ok i hǫll Hárs hana brendu;

thrysvar brendu thrysvar borna,

opt, ósjaldan, tho hon enn lifir!

Heidi hana hétu, hvars til húsa kom,

vǫlu velspá,  vitti hon ganda

seid hon hvars hon kunni,

seid hon hugleikin,

æ var hon angan illrar brudar.”

“She remembers the first war in the world,

when Gullveig was hoist on the spears

in the High-One’s hall they burned her;

three times they burned the three times born

often, not seldom; yet she lives! 

She was called Heidr at the village,

the wise völva knew how to cast spells

she practiced seiðr whenever she could

with ravished soul, she performed seiðr,

She was always sought by wicked women.”

As she asked for divine intervention, Sophie devoted herself to the hard work required by the spinning wheel. As though passing in a trance through Psyche's trials, she was accompanied by her sisters, who danced around her, hand in hand. The first branches of the elm emerged from her heart, which enwrapped her in just a few minutes. From her withered body, the most majestic tree of Fensalir was formed. Three times she was struck by lightning, three times she burned; only to be three times reborn the next dawn.

When Joris at last returned from his travels around the world, finding her in such a state he declared:

“Nu em ec aptr kominn,

fát gat ec thegiandi thar;

margom orthom melta ec i minn frama i Suttungs sǫlom.

Gunnlad mer um gaf gunom stóli á

drycc ins dyra miathar; ill ithgiold

let ec hana eptir hafa

sins ins heila hugar

sins ins  svara seva.”

“Now I have come again,

I’d have hardly made it so far;

without speaking great words to my advantage in the hall  of Suttungr.

Gunnlöð gave me, from her golden throne

The precious drink of mead; a poor payment

I gave her in return

for her whole soul

for her  burdened spirit.”

With these sorrowful words he also became an ash tree, his roots becoming entangled with hers. From their union emerged a magnificent swan egg which cracked in two beautiful girls. The Æsir called them Hnoss and Gersemi, the Twin Treasures.’

#Noorse mythologie #noors verhaal #personal #creative writing #freyja #freja och svipdag #john bauer #1911 #1910s #my work #literature #norse tale #covidnine-zine #art met vrienden #winnie en lisa #norse #norse saga #nordic #swedish illustrator #maria kvilhaug #maria kvilhaug translations #prose #poetic edda #norse mythology #allegorical writing #mine #writer #also an excerpt from my upcoming novel #ikke #a work by Frida Arlon

[makeste]

killing is not so easy as the innocent believe

or, some follow-up thoughts on Hawks, and chapter 265.

you guys this chapter has got people in some kind of way though. myself included lol.

it’s never a good thing when I get an ask like this on a Wednesday. and SURE ENOUGH, lmao. hang in there anon we’re in this together.

I love how all three of these asks seem to be implying that Hawks is basically toast. death certificate all but signed and notarized. which is reasonable to be fair!

regarding Machia though, after giving it some thought, the fact that he was mentioned when he didn’t have to be leads me to believe that Fatgum is correct, and he will not be making an appearance. it’s possible this is just the manga attempting to catch us off guard, but if Horikoshi wanted to do that, he could have just as easily bided his time and made no mention of him at all until he suddenly came barging out of his hidden basement room at an inopportune moment. going out of his way to say “hey remember Gigantomachia? yes well he is in sleep mode at the moment so not to worry” is kind of a waste of time unless it really is true. could be wrong on this though!

regarding the voice recorder/communication/mystery device thing, I now have a brand new ridiculous theory on that thanks to a chat with @blessedgirthma​, but more on that shortly. 

now then, let’s talk a bit more (or, to be honest, a lot more) about Hawks.

lol y’all I am being called out. but in seriousness, this is honestly one of my favorite things about doing the recaps though. the fact that my reactions are recorded for posterity for better or worse. the thing is, when I’m actually reading the chapter for the first time, it’s a complete rollercoaster lol. it’s just whiplash reactions to stuff (which is why 90% of it is dumb jokes because that is my honest instinctive reaction to 90% of everything) and speculating wildly on the spot. and a lot of times it is way off.

one of the things that particularly impressed me about this latest chapter is the fact that Horikoshi was genuinely able to manipulate my emotions so effectively and make me so anxious about the fates of both of these characters in the heat of the moment. not every writer can do that! in fact it’s pretty rare for a shounen manga in particular to actually get me to really start doubting and wondering whether a character is actually going to die. because let’s be real guys, it’s a rarity. especially with this particular series. and even when people do die, they come back as OFA ghosts, or they’re brought back to life as Kurogiri, or they never died to begin with and they’re currently trying to kill Hawks, etc. so on top of the shounen manga tropes, we also have comic book “no one is ever truly dead” tropes. so yeah.

so the point I’m leading up to here is that I don’t think Hawks is actually going to die. I know it’s ridiculous; I know he was just set on fire and isn’t looking too hot (ha) right now, but again. it’s a shounen manga. other characters have survived (1) breaking their arms a dozen times, (2) having holes of all shapes and sizes pierced through their lungs, (3) everything All Might and AFO did to each other at Kamino jesus christ, (4) having their entrails spilled out, (5) being crushed by a water tower, (6) pissing Todoroki off during the climax of Heroes Rising, (6) being blown up from the inside out by a quirk, and (7) having their eye sliced open and being blasted through a building and falling fifty feet from the sky onto the hood of a car while on fire. and this is far from an exhaustive list. this is an off-the-top-of-my-head list. yeah. so neither Hawks nor Twice is actually dying if this is anything to go by.

now then. I said I was going to talk about Hawks, so let’s talk. first off, I just want to make it clear that I’m not part of the pro-Hawks faction, or the pro-Villains faction, or whatever. I’m in neither of those factions, or both of them. or whatever you want to call it. basically I love Twice and I love Dabi and I love Hawks. and recent events have not changed this at all, except perhaps to make me love them even more. but anyway, just wanted to put that on the record. and yes, I told Dabi to set Hawks on fire, and I would say it again too, because Dabi setting Hawks on fire potentially saved both Hawks and Twice, so yeah. homicidal though it may have been, it was good timing all the same, Dabi.

so Hawks! let’s talk about what actually happened in this chapter. “um Hawks tried to kill Twice, is what happened.” well, not quite! what actually happened is that Hawks said he was going to kill Twice. and then... he didn’t.

lol, yeah. eyeroll-inducing technicality there, I know. wishful thinking, naive, willfully disregarding what we actually saw in favor of trying to support my own interpretation of the character. absolutely that’s what it is! but since we all acknowledge that, might as well continue down this line of thinking and see where it leads. so indulge me if you will.

so. three things:

(1) Hawks is a spy. he lies. he lies all the time. when Horikoshi wants us to know what he’s actually thinking, he shows us.

so naturally the reason I bring this up is just to point out the fact that throughout all of chapters 263, 264, and 265, we have not actually seen a single one of Hawks’s thoughts (assuming Caleb is correct in his translation of 264). he’s making speeches, he’s trying to plead his case to Jin, and we see a ton of Jin’s thoughts. but none of Hawks’s. not so much as an ‘I was afraid of this...’ or ‘his quirk is too dangerous, I can’t let a single one of the clones slip through’ or any of your typical run-of-the-mill fight narration we might normally expect to see for a scene like this. there’s nothing. and what this tells me is that Hawks’s words may not in fact line up with what he’s actually thinking.

(2) Hawks is hesitating. we know how fast he is. hell, even if we didn’t, this chapter would be all the evidence we need. but we do in fact have plenty of other evidence.

these things are deadly. each one is solid and we’ve seen he’s capable of using them like bladed weapons. if he wanted to, he could stab Twice through the heart in the blink of an eye. look at the precision he used to tear his mask open (to distinguish the real Twice from the clones) without actually harming him. he wouldn’t even have to move. but he is deliberately holding back and trying to stop Twice in other ways -- by pleading with him (“I don’t want to fight you”), hitting him with a disabling blow, and finally by pinning him down and trying to intimidate him.

but then he just sits there.

saying he has no choice. holding the feather knife above him. but he doesn’t actually do it. and okay, maybe it’s because he truly is fond of Twice, as we know, and so he’s giving him the chance to say his last words or something. but what was it he said just a few pages before this one, though? “we eliminate villains with haste”? I don’t know about you, but I for one sure wasn’t seeing any haste in those last few pages. the man who goes too fast, huh. I’m just saying.

but maybe he was just psyching himself up to do it. maybe he would have gone through with it on the very next page if Dabi hadn’t intervened. maybe. but you know what though? that hesitance -- the fact that he was so conflicted despite supposedly believing that he’s doing the right thing, and despite being groomed by the shadier elements of hero society since childhood to make this precisely kind of decision -- to me, that does indicate that Hawks is not a killer by nature. he’s battling with himself right now. he’s desperate. he doesn’t want to go through with it; he resists the act; and then crucially, right at the decisive moment, Horikoshi prevents us from seeing whether or not he actually would have done it.

(3) and what about that? it’s interesting that this question is one which has come up over and over ever since the disappearance of Best Jeanist, isn’t it? the question of just how far Hawks is actually willing to go. the question of whether or not, when push comes to shove, he will make the cutthroat decision. will Hawks kill for the greater good? Horikoshi poses this question again and again, and yet he still refuses to give us an actual answer.

(oh hey, that’s a nice flashback you’re having. sure would be a shame if it were to... cut off right there so that we never find out what actually happened past this point!!)

(“whether this is really him” -- really?? you actually go and show what is by all accounts and appearances Jeanist’s actual dead body stuffed in a bag, and yet you still cast doubt on it? why? at this point you’re just fucking with us. and also, actually, the fact that it’s a dead body is not, in fact, proof that he killed someone, because morgues exist. and appearance-altering quirks. and clones. and all sorts of other conspiracy-theory-fueling shit. so yeah.)

isn’t that strange? well no, actually, it’s not strange at all, because you only need to take one glance at the fandom (or my own indecisive recaps) to see that this refusal to confirm this one crucial fact about Hawks’s nature is having precisely its intended effect. when you write a story, you want the readers to care. you want them to be invested in what’s happening. you want to keep them in suspense. and so in Hawks’s case, the fact that we just don’t know for sure makes him an insanely compelling character to watch, because will he actually do it?? will he kill Twice?? is he a killer??

and still we don’t know. even now, Horikoshi refuses to lift the veil for certain. and all I have to say about that is this: maybe he is. but if he is, if the answer to this lingering and drawn-out mystery ultimately turns out to be a simple “yes”, then that would be a bit anticlimactic to say the least.

so those are my thoughts! oh, except that I did say I was going to talk about this thing though:

so we don’t know what this is, or why Hawks pulled it out at such a strange moment. I’ve read a few theories, but I have to give @blessedgirthma​ credit because this one is my new favorite omfg:

like. guys. guys. I know it’s absurd and it’s not going to happen lol. but can you just imagine, though. Dabi’s standing there with the crazy eyes, talking about how heroes are all scum, and how he never trusted Hawks, and the fact that Hawks was even willing to kill a fellow hero to gain their trust only to betray them is yet more proof of how hypocritical and disgusting these so-called heroes are. and then, just as he’s about to deal the final blow, HIS OWN CLOTHES TURN ON HIM and he’s all “?!” and IN BURSTS BEST FUCKING JEANIST oh snap, whaaat, HE LIVED, BITCH.

don’t look at me like that. let me have this. all I’m saying is it could happen.

so that’s it! those are all my current thoughts about Hawks and about this contentious chapter which is tearing fandoms and loved ones apart. in my perfect world Hawks lives and Twice lives and Best Jeanist lives and Dabi lives but gets captured maybe so as to have Endeavor angst along with some fucking flashbacks at goddamn last. as of today March 22nd 2020 all of these are still possible outcomes, so I’m gonna embrace it.

and lastly, getting back to the real mystery of this chapter,

WE CAN ONLY HOPE.

#bnha 265 #hawks #dabi #twice (bnha) #bnha meta #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #asks #anon asks #hawks meta

[askpokemoncrossover]

Saisei vs Akira. Healing wounds from the past.

I walked out of the forest and into a clearing of yellow flowers, petals flying in the gentle breeze, the sun shone so brightly that it’s almost hard to believe that it’s night where my home was. My comet shard on my right glove glowed as my partner’s voice echoed in my head: “He’s here…” Without responding, I nodded slowly and saw a cave on the side of a hill and went forward. Each step I take makes the air intensify as every thought in the back of my mind kept telling me to leave. But i didn't come all this way just to be pushed back. 

When I entered the cave, it was surprisingly dark and hollow… except for a pokemon that’s meditating and hovering in mid air: the pokemon that I was looking for, Mewtwo. It is a bipedal, humanoid Pokemon with some feline features. It is primarily gray with a long, purple tail. On top of its head are two short, blunt horns. A tube extends from the back of its skull to the top of its spine, bypassing its neck. It has a defined chest and shoulders, which resemble a breastplate. The three digits on each hand and foot have spherical tips. Its tail is thick at the base but thins before ending in a small bulb. I also noticed that it had a mega necklace dangling around its neck, telling me that it can mega evolve at will… I was about to take a step forward when I heard a voice I didn't recognize echoed through my head: “I told you all to leave me here… I am where I belong.” 

I was taken back at first before replying via telepathy: “I understand what you’ve been through after the way you were treated… after you escaped, you’ve been surviving on your own for so long that it’s impossible to trust anyone… and it’s kept you alive and safe.” After I finished, the mewtwo’s eyes, one green one purple opened slowly and it was surprised to see a riolu with human-like hands and feet… “And what are you? I can’t exactly tell who or what you are… i sense that you are both pokemon and human but also neither?” It said before leaving it’s meditation stance as its feet touched the cave floor. “Well…” I started to say before showing it my comet piece on the glove… “My parents were human before they were turned into pokemon thanks to a comet that left behind this stone… in a different world that is..” “I see… so you’re here to make me believe that humans have stopped making pokemon from their laboratories and treat them like they’re not living creatures?” It asked. That’s the question I was hoping to avoid. I looked up towards the towering creature before it raised one of its three-digital hands and created a sphere made out of dark energy, it was a shadow ball. “If not, don’t waste your breath and leave me…  i won’t tell you a third time.”

“Was afraid you’d say that…” I said before I felt my energy and the comet’s energy being mixed together and I was enveloped in a pillar of light. Before mewtwo could fire the shadow ball the arm of a lucario emerged and fired an aura sphere and the two connected in midair before making an explosion to cover each of our movements. I rushed forward as a lucario before grabbing the mewtwo by the tail and threw it at the cave wall. The mewtwo stopped halfway using it’s hovering capabilities before getting a closer look at me: It was shocked at my new form before it’s eyes went on the round spike that was on my chest, It was a Damascus color instead of silver-steel color. “I see… so, since you’re aren’t strong enough to face me, you relied on the powers you were given.”  It said before I saw it’s eyes glow a deep pink and I felt my body tensing up, before it was hovering a few feet off the ground… “Let go of me..!” I said, trying to break free from mewtwo’s psychic abilities. Since my mother was a psychic type my powers came from her as a family trait but since I was a fighting type… it’s weaker and I could only enter other Pokemon's minds or communicate via telepathy. My psychic skills compared to Mewtwo’s is like an anthill next to a mountain!

“Who do you work for?! I’ll find out for myself!!” It yelled before it’s eyes closed and I felt it poking through my mind… In a moment I felt something snap inside of me and I curled up my body before releasing this new energy. “HAAAH!!” I yelled before i felt mewtwo’s psychic power loosen and i was floating temporarily before my feet softly touched the ground… “Your psychic powers are unnatural… how is this possible? Wait… before i was cut off, i saw that your mother was a delphox! Of course… it must be a hand-me down ability...” “It’s not complete… but this proves that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” I struggled to say before entering a fighting stance… “Round two… come at me with everything you’ve got and i’ll return in kind… I will make you accept humanity once more… I SWEAR!!” I yelled before charging at him with extreme speed. My first attack was successful and it caught mewtwo off guard, I punched and kicked his stomach a couple of times before kicking it into the cavern wall with a crash.”Choke on this!!” I said before throwing multiple miniature aura spheres like a mini gun… each one exploding on his body. That’s when out of the chain of aura spheres I tossed at him, a shadow sphere came hurtling at me from the smoke screen… I had barely time to dodge it before mewtwo’s hand grabbed me by the muzzle and I was flying out of the cave by a powerful throw. I was able to back-flip and landed safely in the field before I saw mewtwo emerging from the cavern… 

it’s form remained unchanged and yet for a second I was overpowered by physical strength. However, its mind was exposed for me to look into and I saw a young male scientist giving Mewtwo a present when it was only a few years old. “For me?” It asked. The man nodded and said: “Yep! You’re unique in every way… this mega stone has been modified so that way you can access both your x and y form without any trouble!” The man hugged the mewtwo and the mewtwo accepted the man’s embrace before a woman in the lab coat walked into the room “Reznov!! You’re needed in the meeting!” She told him before leaving the room with the door open. “You’re leaving…?” Mewtwo asked and the man nodded before saying. “No matter what happens to you here, you must have a strong heart… I promise that everything will be OK.” He then walked to the door and looked at the mewtwo before saying “See you later, Akira…” Before I was cut off from the memory, I heard the mewtwo yell “YOU LIED TO ME!!”

I opened my eyes and saw that the mewtwo called Akira was holding me in the air with it’s psychic powers and it was in it’s Y form. its new form enhanced it’s psychic abilities, making it much harder for me to break free… “So you’ve learned my past, the point where my faith in humans slowly faded away before I was treated like an inanimate object.” Akira told me as it was lifting my body with just a finger… I couldn’t help but feel sorry for Akira. Even though I got so much stronger with my training with Suisei, Akria’s hatred for humanity is deeper and darker than I thought. There’s no other way… If I want a shot in hell of winning, I'm going to have to use the move Suisei and I created together… “I don’t know what kind of tortuous experiments you had to put up with…” I said, my chest spike glowing softly “But you’ve gotta accept the past to move forward… I did.” I then was enveloped in a Damascus colored veil of light that blinded Akira… I softly landed and the veil vanished, revealing it my Mega-lucario form… the light reflected my Damascus colored spikes. “The real fight starts now…” I said softly before rushing forward with extreme speed while landing a salvo of invisible blows on the mewtwo, landing behind them while it was stunned. I turned to deliver two hard knees to the back of their head and neck, finishing the preceding rush with a back-flipping kick.

I landed a few feet from mewtwo as it was stunned by my recent power-up. “How...?” It said before it transformed to its X mega-evolved form, increasing it’s physical stats a lot. “You chose to live alone without any friends… that’s the worst mistake you made.” I said before I raised my right arm in the air generating a ball of Damascus light, quite different from my aura sphere… Akria gritted his teeth and yelled “I will not… go back to being the pathetic being that they created me to be!!” It then charged at me at breakneck speed, before hitting me in the head with a mega punch. I endured the attack, not moving an inch and lowered my arm with the sphere intact before pressing it against mewtwo’s chest. “Sorry...” I said before I launched the attack in a beam-like projectile causing Akira to be sent flying before crashing against the hillside. When the debris cleared, the mewtwo was back to its base form and was out cold.

I took this opportunity to look into it’s mind and saw it playing with the pokemon the scientist’s brought over before it overheard doctor Reznov arguing with one of the CEOs: “You want me to make Akira undergo ‘those’ experiments?! Each and every time an organization creates a mewtwo, it always goes berserk after being treated like a lab-rat! I want Akria to be a mewtwo untainted by all of that.” Reznov claimed before the CEO grabbed the scientist’s lab coat. “You’re not in any position to give us orders, Dr. Reznov… I remember that you used to work for a criminal organization before it was disbanded and ever since you were on the run to protect you and your family…” Akira looked at the two uncertainly and hid, wondering what’s going to happen next. “Just know that if we don’t get any test results… we can’t guarantee the safety of you or your family’s welfare... It’ll be over for you.” The CEO said before they left the room… after the conversation, a few months later: Reznov was eventually driven out because he didn’t uphold his end of the bargain he made with the CEO. I opened my eyes after finishing looking through Akira’s memory. 

I walked forward before reverting back to a riolu and went up the hillside before kneeling next to the unconscious Mewtwo... Akira woke up a few minutes later and saw me, but it didn’t say a word and looked the other way. “You knew the reason why Reznov wanted you to be strong… didn’t you?” I asked and Akira’s eyes were on me. “Reznov did his best to raise you as one of his own… he knew the risks of what would happen if he didn’t make you undergo those tortuous experiments and paid the price…” Akira looked at me with shock before nodding. “Yeah… if I’m being honest, the first thing I did after escaping the lab was finding him… when I did however, he was already in jail with his family. That’s proof enough that there’s nothing for me here, only despair and pain.” It said, I grabbed It’s hand before shaking my head in disagreement. “If what you’re searching for isn’t here in this world, why not start searching for it in a new one?” I asked before taking out a strange ring and threw it a few feet in front of us before it expanded and created a portal, big enough for Akira to go through. The scent of seawater reached my nose as we heard waves crashing against a cliff-side with moonlight seeping in…

Akira looked at me before turning his attention to the portal. “Some people like you deserve second chances after all… hope you don’t mind starting over from scratch though.” I said, suppressing a chuckle before I stood up and transformed into my lucario form and pulled Akria up to it’s feet. “Heh, if you tell me your name, I might consider it.” It said musingly, I only chuckled before answering his question: “It’s Saisei… it means ‘rebirth’” I said as we walked forward, hand in hand, to Akira’s new home and the start of it’s adventure….

#Pokemon Crossover #Saisei #Akria(Mewtwo) #Riolu #Lucario #Mega-lucario #Mewtwo

[dawnscngs]

GENSHIN AU / VOICELINES: WILLIAM JAMES MORIARTY

Name: William James Moriarty

Vision: haha, what vision? (Pyro)

Weapon: Sword, hidden within his walking cane— which he does not actually need. Can also wield firearms, but does not have a preference for them.

Constellation: Flos Sanguinum

Nation: Fontaine.

Affiliation: The Lord of Crime / The Moriarty Family

Occupation: Professor, Vigilante Mastermind

Special Dish: Red Velvet Cupcakes

Blurb.

A young professor from an affluent family. He does not charge for his lessons and accepts students from all walks of life. Beneath the veil of propriety, however, William is a vital piece of an underground network known collectively as ‘The Lord of Crime’. This organization deals in information, as well as punishing those who the law cannot or does not touch.

Voicelines.

Hello:  William James Moriarty, at your service. In addition to teaching mathematics, I also run a consulting service. It’s quite lovely to meet you-- Should you find yourself in need of assistance, feel free to seek me out.

Chat - Sleep:  Hm...? Oh-- Yes, I am quite alright. Excuse me for drifting off, I’m afraid I didn’t get much sleep last night.

Chat - Tea:  This? It’s a blend of Darjeeling with strawberry and hibiscus; I’m quite fond of it. Allow me to pour a cup for you.

Chat - Class:  Ah, you’re just in time for my next lecture. You’re welcome to stay for the lesson, if you’d like.

When it rains:  Ahh, how dreary. Still, the smell of rain is quite nice. What do you say we find some shelter and enjoy the weather from inside?

When the sun is out:  My, what a lovely day. Perfect for a walk, don’t you think?

When lightning strikes:  As fond as I am of the sound of thunder, I would prefer to avoid its companion, if it’s all the same to you.

When it snows:  For many, winter brings only the threat of death. I’ve never been fond of the cold.

Good morning:  Oh dear, is that the sun already? It seems time has gotten away from me again... Ah, well. Breakfast?

Good afternoon:  Hello! It’s nearly my lunch hour, if you’d care to join me. I would love to hear more of your adventures.

Good evening:  What a beautiful sunset...

Good night:  You’re up a touch late, are you not? Take care not to over-exert yourself. Me? Oh, I’ll be up for quite a while yet.

About William - Ambitions:  One day, I’d love to see a world where everyone stands on equal footing. Where those who take advantage of others don’t go unpunished... Ah, but even if such a world could be built, I doubt I’ll be around to see it. Still, I’d like to help shape it, while I’m able.

About us - Distraction:  It’s nice of you to visit me so often. I suppose I don’t mind the distraction as much as I thought I would. You’re good company and speaking with you is never boring.

About us - Family:  Oh-- hang on a moment, your hair is all out of place... There we go! Ah... Forgive me, Traveler, you’re practically a part of the family, now, I’m afraid I acted on instinct.

About the vision:  Visions are a funny thing, don’t you think? I can’t imagine why an Archon would see fit to grant me such a thing, and yet...here it is all the same. Let’s keep this our secret, alright? I’d rather not lay all my cards on the table at once- you never know who’s looking.

Something to share:  I enjoy novels, but the theatre is where my heart truly lies. Have you seen anything good, recently? We should go to the Opera sometime, I hear this season is looking quite promising!

Interesting things:   I’m quite fond of the Fibonacci sequence! Did you know that in observing the geometry of plants, we often find that there are recurrent structures in the arrangement of leaves, branches, flower petals, and seeds which follow the spiral? It’s fascinating how mathematics can translate into nature.

About Louis:  Ah, Louis? It is difficult to overlook the resemblance, hm? He is my little brother. We were all the other had, once. I wish only to ensure his happiness in the future, as much as I possibly can. Although I’d rather you not tell him this, I can’t help but feel that he deserves... better than having me for a brother. Should something ever happen... might I make a selfish request of you? Check in on him from time to time. He has endless potential, he only needs the chance for it to flourish.

About Albert:  I have never known a man with even half as much willpower as Albert has in spades. Were it not for him, Louis and I would certainly be much worse for wear. He is as dear to me as my own blood, make no mistake. There is not a thing I would not do for my dear elder brother.

About Fred:  Fred is an earnest lad. Despite leading a difficult life, his heart is still good. He has a strong desire to learn and to protect those who cannot protect themselves. It’s an outstanding quality, and he is an outstanding young man. He has quite a way with flowers too, you should ask him about the garden sometime, he’s done a beautiful job. It really only shines thanks to his hard work.

About Moran:  Colonel Moran is quite a steadfast person. His ability to push through adversity is second to none. I admire that, as well as his uncanny ability to communicate and understand others without a word. He is a man who understands his own heart and lets nothing hold him back from what he needs to do, and he has been one of my dearest companions for a long time.

About Bond:  Mr. Bond has a wonderful presence, doesn’t he? I can’t help but feel that his energy brings a nice lift to this place-- I can scarcely imagine things without him, nowadays. I suppose that’s one way to know when you’ve found a family, though, hm? If you can’t see your life without them, then you should make certain to keep them close. No matter how recent an addition, James is irreplaceable.

About Jack: My father is nothing but a distant memory, now, so fogged and distorted that not even I can recall his face. Instead I will happily consider Jack as the closest I will ever get. He has taught my brothers and I all we know in terms of battle— defending ourselves and one another, and I will forever be grateful and hold him in the highest regard.

About Sherlock: Mr. Holmes is far from proper— loud, energetic, wonderfully expressive… His lack of manners is truly refreshing! When we are together, I find myself feeling more free than I have in… Well, recent memory, I suppose. His mind is something truly incredible and when he looks at me, I feel as if he really sees me, and even understands. Every moment I spend at his side is impossibly thrilling.

William’s hobbies: I love a good game of chess! Do you play? I would be happy to sit down for a match, if you’d care to humor me. Oh, this? Don’t mind it, I am simply fond of this particular Queen piece, so I trade out for her no matter the board I use.

William’s troubles: The path I’ve chosen...It will be better for everyone I love, in the long run, and yet...I fear I’ll never be able to come back from it.

Favorite food: Louis’ cooking is my favorite, without a single doubt! I find myself craving his omelets nearly every day, regardless of how far from home I may be. Everything my brother makes tastes...like home, and even if I had any talent for cooking, I would never be able to replicate it.

Least favorite food: I’m far from picky, but I’m afraid not even I consider the mistakes I make while trying to cook to be edible, even in the slightest.

Feelings about ascension - Intro: Ah? Hmm, what an interesting development...

Feelings about ascension - Building up: For the sake of everyone, I cannot stop here.

Feelings about ascension - Climax: Tempered steel is far more difficult to break. Perhaps, like this, I can truly make a difference.

Feelings about ascension - Conclusion: This power...It will all be used to shape a new day.

#【 𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕖𝕤: 𝕨𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕒𝕞 】♕ GENSHIN IMPACT AU

[baekberrie]

🌩n o i r - bbh🌩

🌩 Genre: Angst, romance, teacher x student Au

🌩Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

🌩Warnings: no self-acceptance, jealousy

Her face lightened up at the sight of the test being handed on her desk, eyes shining like thousands of diamonds, cheeks tinted in a glittering red reached her eyes as she held up the paper with the impeccable result, a proud A+ impregnated in the white sheet of paper. You could only curve your lips into the most genuine smile you could muster while sending an encouraging nod in her way. Fingers closed around your heart, squeezing it where it'd hurt the most because you knew, that even if you hadn't spoken a single word, you had lied to your best friend. The genuine smile that hadn't reached your eyes, could she see through it? While the other girls complimented her, you could only glance down at the test on your desk, you had turned it around so that no one would've been able to see the result written on it. Not even your friends.

The teacher had written an encouraging 'Keep up the good work!' next to the strong C in the corner of your test, but it seemed as if the letter was laughing straight at your face. It felt ridiculous, that had been a perfectly good grade, a result that encouraged you to give even more the next time, one that showed you that you had the potential to be something even better. But... It wasn't enough, not at all. Not when you had given your all on this test, not when you had told yourself that you'd ace this test with a 100%, not when your best friend had achieved what you hadn't been able to.

"What did you get?" Your friend's voice suddenly shattered your train of thoughts, her curious cat-like gaze bored immediately into your soul, a bright smile curved on her lips- she was delighted and proud of herself, you could almost imagine the swelling feeling of your heart and the yearning to tell your parents about the success, but it disappeared as quickly as it came, overpowered by something unfamiliar, something overwhelming that you couldn't name, but you hated it. It was bitter and it felt as if your heart, your mind, was covered by a black veil that fogged your view.

Swallowing the lump in your throat you feigned another smile, "Secret," you chuckled, feeling slightly embarassed of the result you had achieved, it would just look funny next to her A, wouldn't it? There was no way you could show her. She pouted in disappointment but didn't insist.

Of course, she had to get an A, you thought, like always, just so perfect and good in everything she does, it irks me. I hate it.

Trembling took over your body as you held up the test to the teacher, disgusted and disbelieved in your own self. The adult male didn't miss the painful expression that you hadn't been able to mask. Your gaze snapped up to his when he grabbed the paper, but not actually taking it, just letting the gentle warmth of his fingertips graze your shivering skin. Mr. Byun who you'd til this day always felt drawn to,  Mr. Byun who you'd always gaze at with enamored eyes, Mr.Byun with the low and calming voice- with the heartbreaking smile, Byun Baekhyun that you had secretly fallen in love with. Today, you couldn't hold his gaze for more than three seconds before diverting them again, a feeling of shame and guilt pooling within your chest until it's limit, it was too much and you feared that it might overflow, you couldn't bear it on your own. You just wished he wouldn't catch on the layer of water gathering on your irises, ready to cascade down your face.

Although his worried orbs searched for yours, there was no way you could let him see- let him see what you had thought, even if just for a second. He couldn't find out about the somber strings of negativity entangled from every angle of your body, tightening around the font of your feelings. Baekhyun would eventually find out about the horrible person you were- that you envied your friend because she was better than you in everything, that you had absolutely no talent- no capabilities, that you weren't enough, ever.

Teeth drilled into your lower lip as you tried your best to gulp away the thick tears, a metallic taste spread on your tongue as you wished for nothing but to disappear.

"Alright good job everyone, you all did very well on the test, I'm proud. You're dismissed." Mr. Byun announced while adjusting all the tests neatly on his desk, his thin spectacles placed low on the bridge of his nose and eyelashes kissing his cheeks as he glanced down on the papers. Shouldering your backpack, you made yourself ready to leave.

"Miss Y/n," The honey-like voice that you found yourself craving to hear in your sleepless nights, it called you, and you could only stop in your tracks with fear and nervousness. You couldn't tell whether your heart was picking up its rate, was it because you were going to spend some time alone with him?- or because he was wanted to scold you about something? Perhaps your grades. "I'd like a moment with you please," He continued, not giving away any of his real intentions, and intrigued, you watched when he removed the glasses from his face, folded them neatly and soundlessly placed them on his desk.

As soon as the classroom had emptied, he proceeded to close the door, on his way back to his desk was when he loosened the black-tie from around his neck, popping a few buttons of his shirt- giving you the chance to witness a few inches of his milky skin as he sat down on the edge of the table. Even in your darkest times, he could make you wander to such thoughts and you couldn't decide whether he was dangerous or perhaps just a very beautiful dream, an escape.

"Come," He said, and for a few moments you felt as if your feet had been glued onto the floor, but eventually you moved- and walked to where he was sitting. There wasn't anything stern or raging in his eyes and you could only internally sigh with relief.

"Is everything alright?" Oh no,  you could handle worried stares, but when people straight out asked you that question, there was no way tears wouldn't well in your eyes because obviously, it was so not okay. Not at all, nothing was okay, not you, not your belief in yourself, you were just a mass of shattered glass, and you started to think that not even his healing voice could fix you this time. "You seemed very upset, do you want to talk about it?" No. But-

It was too late when a sob escaped your lips, one sob and countless tears, now that it had begun, you couldn't control it, and you hated it that he had to see you like this, this weak, this embarrassing. Hands flew immediately to your face, letting your hair cover your condition like a curtain. But no matter how much you covered yourself, there was nothing that could stifle the evidence of your sorrow.

Even though your tears, a shiver covered your spine when you felt the soft hand from before resting on the small of your back, pushing you ever so gently closer to him, you didn't stop him. You didn't stop him when his arm came around your shoulders, letting you come in contact with his strong yet incredibly soft chest as his hand rested close to your collarbone and his head leaned in close to your neck, lips brushing lightly over your ear when he once again whispered; "What's wrong?"

It was hard speaking through your strong sobs, but when Baekhyun's hand slid from your shoulder down to your back and stroke soft circles of heat with his thumb you magically found yourself calming down. You didn't know how he did that, how he with his sole presence could purify your darkened heart.

"I- I will never be enough," You cried, hand fisting a handful of his white, expensive button-up, but he couldn't care less about the wrinkles forming on it as he finally closed both of his arms around your frame, letting you petite body press completely against his.

"Hey," He soothed, "What is this about? " His cheek pressed affectionately against yours, his lips caressing your skin with a touch feather-light and you had no idea if it was safe for him to hold you this close to him in his own classroom, if it was safe for you to give away all of your heart to him right now, to let him hear your throbbing heartbeat, to let him see your weaknesses. But his comforting scent felt like home and in this moment where you felt lost in the darkness you didn't know resided within you- he was the only source of light that you were willing to follow.

"Whatever I do will never be enough, I will never be the best I can be, I just hate everything about myself at the moment. I'm a horrible person, I- I felt envy towards the people I love- I-"

"Y/n," He demanded softly, the sound of his voice vibrated soothingly from his chest as he spoke.

"Don't compete with others, there's no point in doing that. Every student has his own fortes and struggles, you are no different. There are certain things in which you can't succeed at once, you have to fight your way up there." Biting your lips, more tears welled inside of your eyes- not because of sorrow, but because his words hit home, just like the rest of his being did.

"Don't hate yourself for not reaching your goal just yet, don't give up on yourself like that, you have potential, you are amazing and as your teacher, I know you can get there if only you befriended yourself instead of fighting with yourself. You are you, you don't need to look at others, okay?" He said, two fingers lifting your chin so that you could meet his strong gaze filled with sincerity and determination. "Whichever your goal is, you don't have to reach it alone, you don't have to rely on those who make you feel pressured, you can come to me and we'll figure it out. Is that clear?"

"Crystal," Your voice trembled but was by now definitely stable enough to form sentences.

"Sometimes, we're bound to feel envious, but it's only in our nature, it won't make you a bad person, you just want to do your best, I know how you feel, but sometimes, we have to be stronger than the envy and force ourselves to ignore those thoughts." Baekhyun was taking in every detail of your face as he let his heart speak, fingers gently combing through your hair and gently curling stray hair behind your ear, you only nodded.

" You're a good girl." He cooed, leaning in to place his lips close to yours, landing on the corner of your mouth, lingering there while all you could do was close your eyes and succumb to the softness of his texture against yours, feeling eager to lock your lips with his- but knowing it's yet too soon for that. When he moved his lips to close them shortly on every inch of yours, leaving pure pecks that wouldn't lead to something more, nothing more but the proof that loved him, and now you knew he did too. And perhaps one day, you'd be comforted by the gift of a breathtaking kiss, like the ones you'd dreamed of.  

----------------------------------------

I don't know about you guys, but these days, I am this person and I'm trying to fix it.

it kinda sucks, might delete later.

#baekhyun angst #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun x reader angst #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun x reader fluff #baekhyun one shot #baekhyun oneshot #baekhyun drabble #baekhyun imagine #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun #exo #exo baekhyu #byun baekhyun #bbh

[love-rats]

Arshilin the Fallen

A chopped tongue. Clipped wings. The boy’s father would never fly again.

This story is a simple one, a story of a boy whose life was spent behind a veil of lies, his eyes brutally covered, and his mind blinded to the reality of the world around him.

This is the story of Arshilin the Fallen.

 This story begins how most do, with a proud father, salty tears staining his face. A boy enters the world, a shock of platinum hair on his small head, and a happy gurgle coming from his mouth. The boy’s name is Arshilin, and he has entered this world laughing, and he will leave it the same.

From that day onwards, the father vows that he would do anything in this world to keep the boy’s smile on his face. He bars the gates of heaven, and commands with his mighty voice for the angels to bow at this bundle of smile’s feet. For Arshilin is not a human: he’s a demigod.

For years, the boy’s father catered to his needs, and as his fat little legs grew long and lean, and the silver shock of fluff on his head grew into a sun-bleached mane, the boy’s smile began to crack and splinter.

Years passed, but with age, his smile did not grow. Alas, as it was to the father’s despair, he vowed that he would put the smile back on his dear son’s face. In the end, it drew him to insanity. The obsession overtook his mind and clouded his thoughts. Day and night, he would pace the halls, wondering what to do that would not paint him a failure in his perfect son’s mind.

People on the outskirts of heaven despaired, for the gates had not been opened in years. Yet, the boy’s father could not bring himself to open them, as he knew that when he did, the nature of Earth would be exposed to his dear son, and the jig would be up.

With every trial the boy’s father threw at him, Arshilin refused to smile. Now, the candyfloss rains and the endless presents were not enough for him. For this boy had only one wish. He wanted to be normal.

Normality is a strange concept, no? Even when it was unattainable, this boy still lied awake at night, letting daydreams of schoolwork and first kisses consume him, and for a moment, a smile would flash across his face. But then he fell back to Earth and the tears once again overtook him.

And yet, the boy understood. He believed the tales his father told him, that the gates could not be opened lest the murderous outside world be let in. So, he bit his tongue, and kept his grief inside him.

Until one day, when he finally had had enough.

It was the day of his fifteenth birthday; his father had asked him what he had wanted. All requests the previous years for tricycles, movies and balloons had been joyfully met, but this year, he wanted something different.

“I want to see the outside world,” he had said.

His father’s expression had been one of shock, anguish and finally, hurt.

“But is this not enough for you? I have given you everything, here. You have the whole world at your fingertips. You are a demigod. You can have anything you want! Look, why don’t you pick another present, okay?” he stuttered.

“Father, I am now fifteen years old. I think I am old enough to decide for myself.” Deep in his eyes was a rooted anger, which threatened to spill. “Let me see the outside world.”

“I’m afraid I can not allow that. It is too dangerous!” His hands began to shake. His obsession was pushing him, telling him that he couldn’t let his only son leave. Arshilin! The boy who entered the world smiling! How could he want to leave?

“You have locked me in this cage for fifteen fucking years of my life. You have taken away my childhood and replaced it with this deluded fantasy of what I want. I am sick and tired of you dictating my choices and my life for me. If I want to leave, then I shall.” His knees buckled, and he fell to the ground, sobs wracking his body.

His father was standing there, shell-shocked. His brain filled with corrosive thoughts, he picked up his sons’ limp body, finally worn out. As he lifted this mess of a child, the tears fell onto his robes.

How had he let it get this far? How could his son, who had entered the world smiling, be sobbing onto his white robe right now?

His body was ever so light, like air.

Arshilin. Meaning smile.

His fists clenched. Enough was enough.

“Forgive me, my son.”

With that, he locked his son in the highest point of the tower.

 When Arshilin awoke, the first thing he felt was the deepest, bitterest sensation of calm.

He finally knew what he had to do! After all these years, it was oh so clear to him.

He simply had to do it for himself.

See, his father had dictated his whole life for him. Now was the time for him to make his own decisions. Ashilin. Ashilin the Fallen.

The Fallen Smile. He liked that.

The room he was in wasn’t too hard to break out of. The rickety wooden door wasn’t too hard to break through, in a world where he could do whatever he wanted. And as a demigod? He was in the right place.

A joyful laugh filled the air. His smiling cracking, the sound rang long and true, as a long sword appeared in his hands. He would break out tonight, and he would no longer be Arshilin, the boy who always smiled. He would be someone new. Someone normal.

Heads turned as the laughing boy walked through the perfect landscape of heaven. Everywhere he went, his laugh followed, the cacophony ringing long and loud.

Finally, Arshilin had smiled.

The gate was in sight. The boy concentrated and click! The lock popped open. Crowds and crowds of individuals waiting on the doorstep ran in, joy lighting up their ragged faces. Tears of relief ran down their faces. The gates were finally open. They finally had a home.

Disgust ran through the boy’s veined as he witnessed the selfishness of his father’s actions. This was the dangerous world he was to grow up in? This was what had cost him his awful childhood?

He continued on, his white fists clenching the sword that was strategically placed at his side. His white wings soon blackened as the anger at the reality of Earth was shown to him. Here was everything he had ever wanted. Here was normality, and yet his father had denied him this, for the sake of a smile?

Rage ran through Arshilin’s veins. His chocolate eyes turned red.

He turned around, the open gates of heaven taunting him, inviting him in. He hated to go back to that hellish place. But he realised he had no choice. Voices chanted in his head, and he ran, laughter bubbling up inside him. This time, it was the laughter of someone insane. Someone who had well and truly snapped.

The boy found his father where he knew he would be, angrily surveying the scene at the gates. Panic was lacing his every syllable as he tried to find the culprit who had opened the very gates that had held his very son.

“Hello, father.”

Turning to see his dear son, smiling, he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Oh, there you are, my dear. I was thinking, maybe you wanted…” He trailed off, the words running away from his open mouth. His son was still staring at him, a victorious smile adorning his features.

When he spoke, his voice was dripping with a deep, hateful kind of laughter. “You lied to me, father.”

“I-I’m sorry! I just wanted to keep you safe, and…”

Arshilin raised his sword, still smiling. “And what?”

“And… and I wanted to make you smile…”

“What? HAHAHAHAHA! Well, I’m fucking laughing now, father. What, are you happy? Doesn’t this just make joy drip through your veins?” He raised his sword. “Even my name means smile. Don’t tell me to smile, father! Give me a reason to!

“But did you? No. You locked me out of the only place I could ever call home, you took my entire childhood away from me, and you lied to me.” His sword was resting on his father’s throat, nibbling at his Adam’s Apple, teasing, almost.

“You lied to me.” He made a little cut, blood dripping slowly from the wound. “And you know what we do to liars?”

In one swift motion, Arshilin slit his father’s throat. “We cut their fucking tongues out.”

With two pale fingers, the boy opened his once sane father, and took his tongue in his grasp. His long sword leisurely cut it out, laughing the whole time.

“I think I’ll take your wings, too,” the boy murmured to himself.

A chopped tongue. Clipped wings. The boy’s father would never fly again.

Is this where the story ends?

In some senses, yes. The liar was served justice, the boy became a benevolent ruler of heaven. But if he ever catches a liar, well, you know what they do to liars…

#creepypasta #creepypasta oc #oc #original character #original story #tw horror #tw death

[nctwd127]

Arranged Marriage.

Chapter Sixteen. 

Word Count: 3107

Lucas and I took a small nap together after the conversation we had. It felt good sleeping with someone again, being wrapped in the warmth was more than words could describe. But I think it mostly had to do with the fact that it was Lucas.

Waking up to him playing with my hair and smiling down at me, made me blush and shy away from him. He chuckled and pulled me closer to him, “You’re so beautiful.”

“Stop, don’t say that. You’re going to make me blush.” I whined into his chest. I could hear his heartbeat speed up at the sound of my laugh, I felt relived because mine did the same.

“Good, you look even more beautiful when you blush.”

I laughed and pushed away from him to get off the bed, “You’re so cheesy.” I teased.

We were in kitchen and I was sitting near the island watching him cook or at least attempt too. But it was going terrible, the alarms have gone off at least two times now.

“I don’t think you’re doing that right Lucas. You sure you don’t want my help?” I offered coming up behind him to see what he was doing. I couldn’t help but laugh at his burnt eggs.

“No just give me a second, I know it got this.” He insisted with a chuckle rumbling in his chest. I laughed and just hugged him from behind, trying to rest my chin on his shoulder.

I pulled away from him when suddenly the front the door was thrown open and then slammed shut. This couldn’t be good. Yuta wasn’t supposed to be home for another three hours. Why was he here so early?

Lucas turned off the stove and his body tensed, anger radiating off his whole being. He hid me behind his back and balled up his first and was ready to lunge at Yuta when he appeared at the door way.

Just by looking at Yuta, it was clear that he was just as infuriated. His eyes were dark and I know he only saw red right now. The both of them stood there throwing daggers at each other with their eyes.

“Why the fuck is he in my house and alone with you?” Yuta sneered balling up his own fist. Yuta had finally had enough. He was tired of me not listening to him and breaking every rule he threatened me with.

“I can be wherever I want to. Especially here because she’s living with someone as pathetic as you.” Lucas shot back.

Yuta’s laugh came out more malicious than I ever heard it be and that scared me. Lucas took a step forward and so did Yuta. This was too much for me. I could feel the anxiety creeping up on me. It was starting out slow.

“I told you to stay away from her, not once but twice. The third time I take action.”

Yuta suddenly lunged at Lucas, throwing a punch right on his jaw. Lucas was taken aback for a second before he composed himself and threw a hit back. The both of them were on the floor, throwing hits left and right.

“STOP!” I yelled. “Yuta, Lucas, stop!” I shouted louder. They rolled around the floor, blood covering their fist and faces. One moment Lucas was on top, the next Yuta was. They were making a mess of red on the floor.

“Yuta! Please stop.” I begged him trying to pull at his arms to get him off Lucas, who was laying under him. He threw his arm back aggressively the moment I pulled his arm and elbowed me in the face.

The blow was hard and sent me back, hitting my back on the corner of the island. I cried in pain, holding my nose when I hit the floor. A sharp pain spread through my whole back and it was hard to breathe for a moment.

Lucas threw a punch at Yuta hard enough to knock him off him, “You fucking hit her!” He shouted at him, coming to where I was on the floor.

Yuta ignored the way Lucas was hovering over me and tried to reach for me but Lucas stopped his hand from touching me, “Don’t you fucking dare touch her again. Especially not in my presences.” Lucas warned him, throwing his hand away from me.

“Can you get up?” Lucas asked me, wiping away my tears. I nodded no, scared to speak right now. Lucas picked me up bridal style and took me to my room. Somewhere in the process of me being lifted, Yuta left, like always.

Up in my room, Lucas laid me down on my bed where I winced at the pain my back felt. He went to my bathroom and got a wet cloth to wipe my face clean from my blood. My nose wasn’t broken but man did that elbow to my face hurt.

“Are you okay?” I asked reaching for his face. He winced when I touched his cheek where a bruise was starting to settle. Even in his pain, he still smiled at me.

He finished cleaning my face and placed the dirty cloth to the side, “I’m fine, don’t worry about me. How are you? Does your back hurt a lot?” He asked sitting next to me.

“Just a little, I feel a sharp pain right now but that’s because the corner hit my spine directly.” I explained to him, looking at his face.

“Can you bring me a clean wet cloth please?”

Lucas nodded and went to get a new one from my bathroom. Soon enough he came out with a new one and handed it to me, taking his place next to me again.

I sat up and reached for his face to clean his the same way he had for me moments before. I smiled at him, “Thank you for defending me. I just wished it hadn’t happened.”

“I know but I just couldn’t stop myself. I saw him and everything you said to me earlier just made my blood boil. I lost it, I’m sorry.” He apologized.

Lucas was willing to go above and beyond for me and I was so grateful for that, he made my heart full and feel at peace. I didn’t want to think that there was something between us I had to worry about but now I was scared that maybe I did.

“Don’t apologize please. I should be the one apologizing to you. For this, I’m so sorry.” I started to ramble feeling sad that this happened to him because of me.

He cupped my face and pulled it to him so our foreheads could be resting against each other, “I told you this morning and I’ll tell you again. There is nothing you have to be sorry about. I’m here with you through thick and thin.” He assured me.

“There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you (Y/N) and I mean that wholeheartedly.”

We held the position we were in for a long time, it felt like time had stopped and it was just us. Nothing and no one else mattered. It was just Lucas and I. Our eyes were scanning each other’s like there was something that needed to be said.

“Are you sure you don’t want to sleep over at my place tonight?” Lucas asked for like the millionth time as he got ready to leave my home. It was almost midnight and since Yuta wasn’t home, he felt a little scared that something could happen to me.

I pulled him into a hug at the front door, “Lucas, I’m going to fine. I promise. Please, don’t worry. If he isn’t home by now then he won’t come back till at least tomorrow or the following day.” I assured him knowing Yuta’s pattern by now.

“Fine but if anything just call me. Please.” He insisted not wanting to let me go. I laughed and nodded okay. He let me go and stepped outside into the night. I stood at the door, watching him get into this car and drive away.

My back wasn’t hurting as much anymore but there was a huge ugly bruise where the corner hit me. And my nose was okay too and thankfully didn’t bruise. That was gift from god because I didn’t want to have to make up lies on what happened to me.

The kitchen was still a mess and because I wasn’t tired, I decided to clean it now rather than later. The dried blood was starting to lightly stain the floor and I didn’t want that kind of reminder in this house.

Not that it would make it any easier to live in. The walls were already tainted way before today. They became tainted the moment Yuta and I stepped foot into this place. Nothing about this place made it easy to live.

Nothing would ever change that, it would just get worse and worse.

~ Three weeks later ~

My hair was curled and flowing down my shoulders, a crown with the veil attached to it at the top of my head. The dress was snug against my figure. The lace sleeves covering my arms. My shoulders exposed from the off the shoulder wedding dress I was wearing.

The train of the dress behind me, making me look as elegant as I ever have. The middle of my dress covered in small jewels that glistened in the light. My eye make-up was done in hues of brown to make my eyes pop just a bit. And my lips were painted a dark red to tie it all together.

My nails were painted blue with blue gems adorning some, to be my something blue. Because I would have been damned if I had made any real effort to find something of value. And lastly the stupid engagement ring was still on my finger, ready to be joined by the second ring.  

I stood in the room, looking at myself in the mirror. Hating everything I saw. I wanted to rip the stupid dress off me and throw the bouquet of flowers far away from me. I wanted to wash my face clean of all the makeup on it. And dye my hair back to its purple color instead the light brown they forced me to wear.

Knock! Knock!

“Go away! I don’t want to see anyone!” I shouted, I wanted to be left alone until I had no other choice but to leave this damned room. I wanted no one to see me like this till I had no other option.

The door cracked open and Lucas’s head popped in. He smiled at me and came in, followed by Hendery and Ten.

“Well damn, don’t you guys look stunning as hell.” I teased.

The boys were dressed in all black tuxes with their hairs gelled back exposing their foreheads. The material of the blazers adapting to their muscles so well, it looked like it was hugging their bodies perfectly. They wore no ties and had the first two buttons undone, exposing a tiny bit of their chests.  

“If this wasn’t my wedding and you guys weren’t my friends, I would have done everything to bone you all.” I joked admiring how amazing they looked right now.

The room filled with their laughs, “If you weren’t our friend, I’m sure we would have tried to take you from the groom.” Hendery played along with my joke.

“But really, you look amazing (Y/N). And I’m not just saying that.” Lucas chimed in. Hendery and Ten looked at him and narrowed their eyes playfully.

His compliment made me blush and I thanked him shyly.

“How are you feeling?” Ten asked, the atmosphere got really dark and sad after his question. Everyone in the room had frowns and broken hearts laying in their chest.

I wanted to cry but my make-up would run so I couldn’t, instead I just gave a weak smile.

Someone knocked on the door and Hendery went to answer it. They gave him some kind of order and then left. He turned and by the look on his face, I knew that it was time.

Instead of having girls for my bridesmaids, I asked the boys to be at my side during this moment. I didn’t have female friends anyway and I wasn’t going to ask some random’s to be there.

The three of them huddled around me and gave me a group hug, with silent promises filling the air that everything was going to be okay. They were at my side though this and they would always be no matter what. Now and forever.

Hendery and Ten went out to join whatever mess was happening so they could take their places. Lucas was to join them too but he wanted to have a moment with me before I was to walk down the aisle.

I kept staring at myself in the mirror because I couldn’t believe that this was happening. I was getting married to Yuta. My heart felt so heavy in my chest and there was so many tears I wanted to shed, but had to hold in.

There was nothing more I could have done to stop this. I got on my knees in front of our parents and begged them with tears streaming down my face to please not do this. To please let this end right here and not continue any further.

But they didn’t care, they looked me in the face with my teary eyes and told me that this was going to happen and that there was no way of changing what was already set in stone.

The company was more important than what I felt. The future of the people I loved were on the line still. But today that would end because here is where I said, ‘I do.’

Yuta didn’t come home for the first week after the accident with Lucas. At first I was worried but then he texted me for the first time in forever and told me he was staying with Sicheng for a bit. I didn’t ask questions and just said okay.

I didn’t care where he was, at least he was safe.

After he came home the second week, things were weird and awkward whenever we were in the same room for too long. He eventually found me in the library and gave me the best half ass apology he could have given me for elbowing me in the face.

Things were somewhat decent between us after that. Occasionally we would be in the library at the same time with no words being spoken, just the sound of pages being flipped.

Every night for the past week, I’m sure he’s heard me cry about today. He knew about the visits with our parents and he did nothing to stop this.

“You really do look beautiful.” Lucas complimented me again, walking up behind me. Our eyes met through the mirror and we smiled at each other. He placed his hands on my waist and turned me to face him.

He pressed his forehead against mine, “Man, if I could kidnap you right now. I would in a heartbeat.”

My hands went up to his neck and held him, this was a common thing for us now. In the last three weeks we’ve grown a lot closer, he spent days in and days out with me. He set up little ‘dates’ for us like the first time. Each one more memorable than the last.

The conversation of our feelings lingered in the air for a long time, until now.

Until right now in this very moment.

“I need you to know before you walk down that damned aisle that I like you and so fucking much. Probably since the first day I met you. And I need to do this now.”

There was no more hesitation like before when we stood this close to each other. Our eyes closed and for the first time, our lips met. The softness of his lips against mine, made me want to melt away in his arms forever.

We pulled away for air and shared a moment of silence, the look in eyes was enough to tell me that I wasn’t the only one who felt the fireworks go off.

The fireworks went off in my heart. The warmth that took over my body and the feelings that I never thought I would feel again erupted in the depths of my soul.

“I like you too Lucas.”

A knock on the door made us jolt away from each other and make a distance between us. My dad came in and looked at us. He narrowed his eyes at Lucas as if he was suspicious about something.

“Shouldn’t you be outside already?” My dad questioned him.

“I was just leaving actually. (Y/N), I’ll see you outside.” He gave me one last tight hug, “I wish it was me instead.” He whispered in my ear and left.

The door closed and I turned away from my dad to fix myself in the mirror. A disgusting amount of hate came up looking at myself like this.

“You look so beautiful my dear.” My dad complimented me but I didn’t say anything in return. I didn’t even look at him. I wanted nothing to do with this man right now. He was practically selling me away for the sake of the fucking company.

The music started to play and that was my cue.

We walked outside and linked arms. We walked to the end of the aisle and I looked at everyone who stood there right now. I didn’t recognize a single soul, maybe just the people from work.

I held onto the bouquet for dear life as we walked down the aisle to Yuta. He stood there shining in his beautiful glory, wearing his black and white suit. He changed the color of his hair to sliver to match my dress. It was gelled back also exposing his forehead.

Yuta shed crocodile tears and sported a killer smile as he watched me walk down to him. My eyes met with the boys and that was a mistake. I could see the pain in theirs just like they could see mine.

Taking a deep breath, I blinked away the tears that burned my eyes when we reached Yuta. He came down and my dad unlinked our arms and placed my hand in Yuta’s.

“Take good care of her Yuta.”

“I will like my life depends on it Mr.(L/N).”

Masterlist

#nct #nct 127 #nct yuta #nct doyoung #nct hendery #nct lucas #nct jaehyun #nct taeyong #nct winwin #nct smut #nct scenarios #nct stories #nct angst #nct fluff #nakamoto yuta #kim doyoung #wong kunhang #chittaphon leechaiyapornkul #wong yukhei #jung yoonoh #lee taeyong #dong sicheng #seo youngho #nct arranged marriage #nct ten #nct johnny #yuta smut #doyoung smut #lucas smut #jaehyun smut

[grim-faux]

17 - Prometheus Lies

More of the floor had fallen due to rot or fire higher up on the stairs.  I nearly missed it in my climb, I was still taking the steps as I flicked the nightvision on and stumbled upon the gaping tear.  It was a large jump and I had my doubts about being able to drag myself up on the other side, given the slick tile, but no other options were available. This time I made sure the camera was secure in its pack before I put my back against the cool plaster and steeled myself for the short sprint.  Focus on the leap, on footing, don’t hesitate—

I hit the edge of the floor with my middle and gagged, I couldn’t see in the shadows where I would collide with the splintered wood.  I recovered and was able to get my elbows under my chest and hoist up.  My chest ached, as did my bad arm, nothing new.  Had to keep going, couldn’t stop, never again. Soft glowing candles decorated the broken shelf across from me.  The usual message Follow the Blood was painted on the wall above them.  I leaned through the gate examining the closed in surroundings, a gate on my far left looked locked.  Probably was.  A lone battery had been left to me between the candles wax drippings.  I took it feeling very little gratitude to my ‘benefactor.’ It was like being given a brick in this place.  Or a flashlight.  Didn’t help much but to keep me going. I paused as I glanced to the darkened hall at my left.  I thought…could’ve been ‘Farther’ Martin.  But I didn’t linger to certify this, blood was marked to the dark hall ahead.  I adjusted my hand under the cameras strap and took my time, in no hurry and with no drive for my current objective.  I wasn’t certain where I was headed, only that I was in another one of the numerous and indistinct corridors.  In a room someplace nearby, someone was shrieking as though their skin was peeling off.  I shuddered, but felt no other sentiment toward the matter.  Too preoccupied with that tingling in the back of my skull.  I was anticipating the horror that awaited my presence but it never ceased to terrify me. Blood was brushed across the floor curving to the right.  Follow the Blood. However, there was still a stretch of corridor to check ahead.  It wasn’t worth the trip at any rate, the corpse of another patient with his head nearly twisted off his shoulders, the air rich with copper, and a door boarded up.   Disquieted, I returned to my marked path and found the floor there wrecked by the fire, a light hung from above enabled me to store my camera away.  I inched closer to the wall, the boards underfoot reduced to charcoal and dusted with white, creaked as I moved to the edge.  A door sat nestled in the wall on the left, with the faint traces of blood marked on its sides.  There was very little space to press my heels back onto, and maybe I just didn’t give a damn how dangerous this stunt was on the unstable remains of floor.  But it was my path and that was all my mind had locked onto.   The light overhead flickered occasionally, but its illumination remained steady.  As I inched along, a shirtless patient began to patrol on the floor below bumping into walls despite the light and smashing his fist against doors.  I grimaced as I moved, the path was not as stable as I had hoped and shifted under my weight.  I didn’t need to fall down there with him. When I was directly across from the door, I braced for impact and leapt, hitting the ledge and freezing when the splintered wood punched into my chest.  My coat absorbed most the impact, but I still lost my grip and slipped backwards.  I barely snagged the edge with my hands and dangled, below the patient sobbed something about his shadows, I really couldn’t jot it down.  The wood lamented my weight and creaked, I held on for dear life trying to decide what to do. It wasn’t really up for debate.  I growled between my teeth and pulled my body up as much as my arm would allow, then swung my leg up over the burnt timber.  I fit my heel onto a little notch that held my weight, enabling me to lift myself parallel with the side, until I could get my elbow over.  I scooted the rest of the way up until I had cleared the edge, and rolled far-far from it.  I had to pause and catch my breath and let my muscles a moment to loosen.  I felt the familiar spreading warmth in my backside.  Damn. Maybe next time I should just drop and run like a bitch. I jerked up when I caught a flash of static, light flooded the next room.  I regretted it and winced as my ribs pulsed.  Damn it.  I heard thunder and chalked it up to the fierce weather that raged on outside. The room was large but cluttered by all manner of bed and furniture, most stacked in the center as well as along the walls.  I paused when I cleared the doorway, the hair on the back of my neck stood on end.  It felt like someone was watching me, though I couldn’t – could not detect a physical presence of any sort.  The room was empty aside from me, and silent, the soft patter of rain outside hammered on the thick glass as my heart thudded in my chest.  The feeling wouldn’t leave and I was wary to travel further within the labyrinth of disorder, fearing something inhuman would lunge out at me and shriek as my brain erupted inside my skull. I moved towards an open area on my left, crouching low and peering over the confusion of beds and mattresses.  My battery was already getting low on power, I had to watch it and would probably need to change it soon anyway.  Nothing was on this side, the shadows the nightvision couldn’t penetrate revealed no hidden eyes, no shifting shapes.  Absolutely nothing living. I moved around the support pillar off center of the room, rising to my full height and slipped forward, ready to bolt at the first hint of movement. The floor shifted beneath me, I turned the camera down as the boards gave a horrendous groan and I fell.  My spine jolted between my muscles when I hit, and I twisted in a stunned mess on the floor.  Right in my ear something shrieked and I turned over in time to see that hazy form dart overhead, at the outskirts of the NV.  I rolled aside and crawled behind a pillar, before I peeked out to watch it glide out of sight. It was gone.  Whatever the fuck it was, it was gone.  It could come back.  I had no sick desire to move around too much and draw attention, but I was becoming aware of the small room I was in and its lack of doors.  And escape. I moved away from the pillar scouting the open area visible.  It was identical to the floor above, I’m sure, but less clutter, more boarded up doors and windows.  A few items had been abandoned, a table cart and some bed frames stacked.  I pressed my palm to the side of my head while examining the blocked double doors.  This was one of many I had passed in the burnt out corridors, either those that had been locked inside had escaped, or there was nothing here to begin with. On the floor around a sequence of stacked bed frames, lay rotted wood and masonry.  I lowered my arm to peer up the way the shape had flittered, and saw a large hole where the floor had collapsed.  Maybe patients had been trapped in here, and they found a way out? The NV was dimming, I had to stop and change that before I could secure the camera and climb up.  I was detecting a pattern here. It was nice to actually grip something smooth for a change rather than the splintered and rough floor surfaces of lately.  I hopped up to the ragged floor boards and pulled the camera up before climbing onto the floor.  The camera wasn’t necessary, light flittered through the murky windows, allowing my eyes to perceive some of the dark edges.  More beds discarded, empty of mattresses and patients.  I kept low as I slipped towards the obstructions, trying to see the odd flickers just beyond the perception of dark, lights that flashed behind my eyes without the storm.  That odd vibration in my muscle.  Maybe I just wanted the paranoia, maybe I wanted the delusions to be true.  It felt more real than my current predicament.  Most of all, I feared what I was thinking. I stopped when that churning sound occurred and felt myself quiver.  There was nothing, I told myself.  The room was empty as far as I could see, I was seeing things.  I wasn’t seeing things.   Or was I? It sounded like scratching, or subtly rubbing.  Over and over, in a constant rhythm until I wasn’t sure if I was still hearing it or if it was the sound in my ears.  I let it drone on and ignored it as I ventured around the thick pillar near the hole, and scanned the cameras visor for movement, eyes.  A lone wheelchair sat beside the gaping hole I had fallen in.  A few feet beyond it was a small connecting hall, with light cutting through the dark shapes I imagined shuffling around.  Blood had been splattered along the floorboards, I shut off the NV to confirm the crimson hue before pushing the next door open. Somehow this room seemed darker, the shadows pressing on the NV range and giving me a feel for claustrophobe I was not accustomed to.  I took a few tentative steps forward testing the depth of my view, the black veil gave and retreated as I pressed further into the room.  Beds upturned, blotched with dried blood.  Overturned desks and rushed shelf stacking; I took the open path along the wall at the left.  On one of the beds beneath a shattered window, boxes had been dumped, more scattered files lay about the crusty mattress.  I gave my perimeter a short glance before poking through what remained of the damp pages.  I pulled out one file with two names that seemed familiar, couldn’t remember where I might’ve read about them. (Excerpt from the diary of Shirley Pierce, Mount Massive Mental Hospital Patient, 1952-1964) How can I not remember where the cuts are coming from?  They hurt so deeply, even days later.  Doctor Newhouse tells me that it’s my fault, I’m subconsciously resisting the hypnotherapy.  But I want so much to get better, I don’t know how I could be doing this to myself, Dr. Newhouse says it’s another condition of my bedroom-inspired hysteria.  Poor Bruce, I make him suffer so. I’ve tried, subtly, to ask Mrs. Jackson if she’s had similar “issues” with her husband, but she is loathe to talk about it.  Her husband, too, has found comfort in a younger woman. I know the doctors mean well, and with the help of the government men who’ve joined the staff, I am in the very best hands possible.  I should just take my pills and sleep, and hope for more pleasant dreams tonight. I was unmoving for a time, unaware that I had been standing a full minute holding the side of my ear.  The date on the page.  That date barely came to me.  That was long ago.  Long-long ago.  I reread it a few times before it finally began to sink in.  God, I’m an idiot. Mount Massive was shut down in the early 70s.  Miles, you fuckin idiot.  How did I not see this sooner?  It was staring me right in the face.  Right in my face.  Murkoff came along and ‘reopened’ it.  What was I reading again? She was committed to the Asylum from 1950 to 1960, before Mount Massive was shut down.  But they were doing experiments before then.  I didn’t need to linger on the subject any longer. I lost my train of thought as I knelt beside the bed, staring at the page.  I was certain of what was in this note, but I couldn’t focus. Was that what the patients meant when they talked about sleep therapy?  I thought this over carefully, ignoring that buzz in my head.  The Whistleblower said ”Sleep therapy going too deep.” The experiments were happening before Murkoff came along, the government was involved before Murkoff commissioned Dr. Wernicke.  Was I just blocking this information out?  Everything that was started here.  Could this go any deeper?  The Hypnotic transgression to alter individuals thought patterns, and the Project named Walrider for those side effects?  It seemed to lock together, yet the same old holes remained in my theories.  Murkoff never started this.   I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  One mass hallucination.  Nothing more.  And I was buried deep in the center of it seeing what the patients saw, feeling what they felt.  For them it was real, and for me it felt real.  Too real. I lowered the camera and pressed my forehead into my palm.  A massive hallucination.  That was all it was.  But… hallucinations didn’t tear people to pieces.  Had I really seen the MHS cops murdered?  I was drugged at the time, my recollection wasn’t the most credible. I stood off the bed and continued around the room, passing between stacked beds and mattresses.  They must’ve been storing all this away when Project Walrider took its wrong turn, they butchered up most the patients and needed to put they vacant beds someplace.  What a grotesque thought. Even though some of them did NEED to die, they were still human beings.  I think.  I had no idea what the female patients were like, aside from the one transgender I had come across.  I hadn’t had the privilege thus yet to run screaming from a woman.  I’m such a man. Another small connecting hall appeared to my left, but the door that would lead to the next room was blocked by something large and unmovable.  I couldn’t budge it with my weight and gave up to resume my path to the front of the room. The sunken outline of smashed out double doors loomed ahead, and a corridor beyond that.  I hastened my steps, but jerked to a halt when that dark shape drifted by.  I recorded that - I SAW THAT!  That was no hallucination!  NO!  You can’t tell me I didn’t see that! I backpedaled around the corner, until I toppled backwards over a table cart and lay staring up.  That buzzing in my head was getting obnoxious.  If I didn’t think about it, it would dissipate somewhat, but it was there at the back of my mind scratching at my thoughts. I sat the camera on my chest and pulled up the most recent recorded file and played back the last few minutes. Yes!  A clear shot between frames, as it was at the center of the door.  I stared at the image trying to make sense of what I was looking at.  It looked….almost skeletal and corporal, at the same time.  Like black dust, or a statue carved from obsidian.  I could almost describe it as beautiful, if my mind were not so fractured. Time to go.  I pulled my legs off the overturned cart and stood.  It was going to the right, maybe I should try the left.   The hall extended a distance and took another left.  Double doors sat in the corridor to my right, but as with many doors they had been boarded up tight.  I blinked as I turned, and felt a searing blaze of light behind my eyes as though I’d been hit.  I didn’t understand it, I knelt to my knees and waited for the pain to subside, it didn’t actually hurt.  Felt like the memory of a hard punch, like when Trager beat me out of the dumbwaiter, I was shaking all over again and my breath came labored. Anxiety attack.  Just an anxiety attack.  Not shock, just relax, deep breaths, get it under control Miles.  I was in a bad place for this, I was totally exposed and if a patient happened upon me I would be done for.  Get it together, deep breaths, rhythmic breathing.  My chest felt like it wanted to splint open, and I dropped the camera beside me as I fell over.  The dust tickled my nose but I kept trying to drag myself back into focus, my left leg went numb.  Just anxiety, not shock, not heart attack.  I’d know if I was having a heart attack. The pain in my head died somewhat and the feeling slowly returned to my leg.  Good, good.  Get up and move, walk it off. I fumbled in the dark for my camera and picked it up.  I half expected a face to be staring right in the visor, it was almost a shock that there was none.  I pushed myself up and resumed walking. Chairs, broken beds stacked, more doors tempting but going nowhere.  On the wall there was the occasional dark arrow, still seeping with the fresh lines of its making.  I took another left, coming to realize I was going in a circle if this route endured.  Some open double doors, at least I was still headed somewhere, and apparently I could not have gone in the wrong direction.  A few feet away the flicker of candles caught my attention, yes, I was going the right way.  Though I think I could’ve come the other way, and still reached this place. This door would still be here when I came back, the blood stained arrows were still running thick lines down the plaster.  The door left ajar, inviting me. It could wait.  I crept slowly down the corridor, always aware the thing could be at any turn and suddenly spring from nowhere as though from thin air.  The hall took a right and a ways down I could see light, wavering from an open door. Inside was the mother load of files.  Shelves stuffed with boxes, and binders full of notes.  Boxes stacked around the room, many had been torn to pieces, some still had scraps of folders and pages littered everywhere.  None of them looked complete, exerts from Frankentein’s Monster, and more letters from family to patients and vice versa.  Some of the pages I handled felt brittle and were yellowed with age, a few dates on letters read as far back as 1950.  On the wall was a cross painted in blood and the familiar word in bold LIE The red was fresh, it still trickled down around where a trash chute was set into the wall.  My shoes squeaked on the tile as I checked down the opening, then proceeded to go through the boxes. “I recognize the handwriting.  Father Martin killed a man here.  Are the “LIES” he’s talking about all the files missing from these boxes?  The facts?  The records?  They look like government agency material, at least thirty years old, probably older.  I start thinking MKULTRA, CIA.  Mind Control.  The buzzing won’t stop.” There was a file about patients claiming to see a Dr. Wernicke in their dreams, though they had never known a man by that name.  There was a file of one individual that screamed so much his tongue and throat had swollen, and he had perished.  Another about a violent individual that had eventually died from blood loss when he had worn the skin from his fingers away, and tore his entire face off. I started feeling sick, I wanted to stop and sit down, rest a moment.  But I couldn’t.  There was no telling what lay ahead, everything was coming together now.  Or maybe it was the feeling I was having about this place, the hallucinations.  The whispers. I returned to the marks on the wall, the door left ajar encouraging my progress.  As I moved forward to push it open, someone shut it from the other side.  I drew my hand back.  Was the door now locked?  No, it couldn’t be, this was where I was supposed to go. That just sounded insane. I took the handle, it turned easily in my mutilated hand, and I pushed the door open just a bit.  My movement wasn’t unheard by the occupants of the room, and I cued in on soft foot falls just before they entered the range of the nightvision. The twins! I slammed the door shut and pulled the little cart with the candles on it and put it between the door and I.  Why I did this, I’m not sure.  I took a few steps back as the door opened and the first twin gave the small cart a baffled look before he scooted it aside with his machete. I took the hall I had first come down, through the double doors and paused to look back.  The twins stepped into the hall, glancing one way then the other.  I crept behind the corner and watched, they couldn’t see me I was certain but they knew I was here, or someone was here.  The candlelight, they might have seen me standing in the doorway! One twin began down the opposite hall, while the other turned and moved in my direction.  They were going to corner me like they tried in the caged hall, but this time there was no window for me to use to get around them. They were counting on me coming this way, with no other option but to follow the Priests blood trails.  This didn’t hardly seem fair, but I wouldn’t get a word in edge wise if I was caught.  I might still beat them back to the other room, but it didn’t change the fact I had to get by them to that door and with the two of them patrolling, it was only a matter of time before I was caught. I ducked aside when the twin reached the open double doors.  I needed a way to get around them, someplace to hide and double back. The stacked beds I passed.  I dropped down and scooted under them until my shoulder was to the wall.  My camera was getting low on power again, damn.  Why now? I held still as the bare foot falls grew louder with each step.  I shut the camera off and tucked it into jacket, gritting my teeth hard when the fibers caught on the remains of my index finger.  At least the bone was exposed only on that finger, the camera and loop somewhat protected it in my travel.  I shut my eyes and focused on the sound of the brittle wood as the twin stalked past.  Couldn’t see me, couldn’t know I was here.  I exhaled a low breath when his steps faded down the hall, and I began a count once I could hear them no longer. One-one thousand.  Two-one thousand.  Three one-thousand.  I was still counting as I slid out from under the bed and moved towards the door, and the candle light.  Four one-thousand.  Six one-thousand.  A sharp pain filled my skull as the candlelight clashed with the NV.  Couldn’t pause.  Keep moving.  Eight one-thousand.  Nine one-thousand. The door to the room was left open, I could barely make out the extending edges through the failing nightvision.  I entered and flung the door shut, all the time keeping by the wall and straining to pick up early warning I heavily relied on.  I couldn’t gamble that the other twin was unaware of my intentions, and would still be out to corner me off at his brother.  With the door shut I was more likely to hear of their return. Now it was impossible to see through the visor, I had to fumble and get the batteries switched out before proceeding.  It was another room identical to the previous ones I cut through, the few items of furniture scattered about, broken night stands, beds along the far wall.  I crept around the thick pillars, wary of what might be lurking. A door to the side of the room was jammed in its frame, another on the opposite side gave false hope.  Through the window I could see broken wood and the dusty tile on the floor far below.  I tried the handle out of habit, locked.  It didn’t matter, there was no visible way to climb down.  I pressed my palm to my head, the stress caught up to me as the revelation hit.  I could easily die if the twins returned this moment, and I had still not gotten my shit together.  Keep moving, keep moving.  Where didn’t I check yet?  It was obvious enough. The back of the room?  I moved close to the wall and the windows.  It sounded like the storm had lessened for a short while, but boards nailed against the wall made it impossible for the meager amount of light through.  The joining corridor was on the right side, and the door beyond open.  Boards had been torn away allowing chunks of light through, enough to pick out the jagged floor where the fire had eaten through the wood.   The wood protested my weight but the structure seemed stable enough for my weight, at least where the damage was not as sever.  Each gap of ruined floor was a distant, I couldn’t tell from a glance what sections were solid enough.  I tried not to think of it either. I sprang forward clearing the gap easily, the floor creaked under me and I tottered as wood snapped and clattered somewhere below.  Needed to stay sharp, none of this floor was stable.  For now it held. I crossed to the corner where the fire had done ‘less’ damage, and maneuvered around a bed as the wood groaned, warning its lack of patience with my weight.  The wall beside me had burnt out, leaving the skeletal remains of the framework within.  I leaned against it certain I saw something at the edge of my vision, something there without the NV.  There was comfort in my dependence of the camera, a trick of the light.  A voice reverberated from the floor below and I moved the camera over the demolished room, seeking its source. A bright beam flashed over me and I met eyes with ‘Father’ Martin.  “Only God needs be so mysterious.  Be patient, hold faith.”  As he spoke he turned away, looking across the edge of a gap of where he stood upon.  I couldn’t be sure, but I doubted he was speaking to me.   I moved on, reinforcing my resolve.  I needed to get out of this area, with the twins geared to hunt me down.  They wouldn’t hesitate to gut me on the spot, and I felt in my deepest fears that they wouldn’t kill me before they went to work.   Shuddering, I edged myself onto a thin path that ran flush with the wall, I had very little room for my feet but the edge felt stable enough.  The ruined timber moaned as the structure shifted under the malicious storm, it sounded like the whole place could topple at a wrong move, yet still it stood.  I used the NV to make sure that I was scraping onto a solid surface, the charcoal was black and blended with the shadows.  The floors center between the support pillars was still intact, not a big surprise.  Another break in the floor separated me from the next door, by a distance I was leery to attempt jumping, but I was certain that I had leapt farther previously this evening.  There was no easier way over. Lamps undamaged by the fire gleamed down, revealing the tile floor of the room below.  I focused on the door trimmed by light, wide open and inviting with only the ominous abyss of dark beyond.  I would have a moment to gather myself before I pushed resumed.  The floor didn’t seem stable enough on my island, I shuffled near the edge and tested the thin boards.  It made quite a bit of noise, but it felt solid.  Maybe made from a different wood, from whatever comprised the asylums charred sections?  I clicked off the NV and put some distance between myself and the edge, then dashed forward and threw myself out over the fissure. I hit the other side with more force than anticipated, the wind gushed out of my lungs and my arms hit the boards.  Hard.  I didn’t have a chance to inhale, my body began to slip backwards.  I panicked and slung the camera out of my grip a safe distance and braced my hands and elbows against the splintered wood, sweat trickled into the corner of my eye obscuring my sight.  I think I might’ve snapped a rib. It sounded like it.  Or was that the floor creaking against my weight?  As I pulled myself up, the board snapped and I fell catching the next piece with my hands.  A streak of light flashed through my eyes as my ragged finger tips locked into the timber.   The whole floor was falling! I clambered up, kicking and clawing for a stable grip, and finally got my torso over the edge in time to witness— My camera!   My camera was skidding backwards, off the slanting floor!  No!  I shuffled along trying to reach it before it fell.  Visions of it hitting the black tile, dashed into a million pieces of plastic and metal.  All my evidence!  My only source of light in this shit hole!  I reached, scratching it with my remaining fingertips as it tipped, then flipped jolly like over the edge.   Down, down, and down it went.  Everything in slow motion as I was stuck up here, watching it get smaller and smaller, the further it descended.  Any minute now, a millions pieces scattered everywhere.  You wouldn’t be able to tell what it was in the first place.  Scattered to the far corners.  I’d never be able to find them all and put it back together. But it didn’t scatter.  I watched as it bumped against a board, and held my breath, right before it hit the other side of the floor above a thin black hole.  Then, vanished into the dark abyss.  I reached for it.  I could still feel it in my hands, solid and comforting.  This couldn’t be happening.  It was in one piece but it was gone.  Fuck!  Why didn’t I secure it?  Why didn’t I remember to protect the damn thing?  It was gone forever and I was the one to blame.  Fucking idiot, Miles!  Your life is over!  The damn camera was the only thing keeping you— The floor whined as the boards gave out, and a piece clattered hollowly in the open room.  I shifted, dragging myself up just as I saw the door to a room below swing open and a dark figure creep into view.  Shit! Another panel snapped away before I had latched onto the next, and I was hanging by my hands snarling as hot needles pulsed through my fingertips.  GET UP THERE MILES!  I clawed my way up as the floor crumbled out from under me.  I dug my fingers into what I could reach and braced myself, launching forward as everything under my feet snapped free.  I was running on literal open air as the ground dissolved under me, I dove into the awaiting doorway and locked my hands on the frame as I spun about, to witness the last of the floor break away.  I took a few deep breaths, and gazed at the open door with light pouring through.  No evidence of the prowler below, I’m not sure if it was a twin or someone else hunting me. I was still shaking when I turned to the dark corridor awaiting my trespass.  I had become so dependent on the camera, the total blackness was like a wall I could never pierce with my conviction.  Memories of those inexperienced cavers returned to my thoughts, how they had been lost for days before they succumb to hunger and thirst. How do you get lost in a cave?  The darkness is disorienting, and even when you feel you must be turned in the right direction, it is impossible to be sure.  You can run in circles for days before you realize you’ve been in a room of nine by nine. I didn’t stand a chance navigating the dark totally blind, while the patients strolled about, conditioned to the dark halls that was their world.  Aside from all the evidence I could not afford to lose.  It would be better if I died trying to find it, rather die getting beaten to death by something I couldn’t identify. The ruined floor echoed a strange sound as the wood settled, almost like the shriek of a dying man.  I pondered it, as I pondered how to go about locating my camera.  I reviewed my recent progress through the asylum, deducing if I returned the way I came I would not be able to access the floor below where the camera should be.  That was not considering the twins, I didn’t doubt they were still hoping to stumble upon me in that section of the hall.  I wiped some sweat from my eyes, and recoiled at the blood soaking my palm. Oh god! After scrapping some of the fresh blood from my hands, I picked my way down what remained of the floor.  At least ‘if’ I returned, I could still climb up easily.  Small miracles.  There was no sign of the creeper, this made me uneasy.  He could as easily have been a spy for Father Martin, as he could have been one of the violent lunatics that’s only purpose was to shatter skulls.  He had to have come from somewhere, I doubt he came from the floor above or had a way up there.   This was all speculation, I had no reason to believe there was a way to access the lower floor through here.  I planned to turn back if it became too dangerous, or if there was no visible way to progress.  I don’t know which way I preferred more. The room was dim, light pouring through broken windows offered miniscule guidance, cutting dark lines over the beds and furniture that looked jammed into the space.  I heard no sound, nothing to indicate a living body present.  The path on my left was packed high with bed frames, to my right was a space I could slip through.  I didn’t want to attempt climbing over anything unless I absolutely had to, my hands were shaking against my sides.  They felt hollow and light without my camera.    A flash of lightening pulsed from the windows, I crouched down when I though there was a shape peering over the shelves on my right, but it was already gone before my eyes adjusted.  It felt like the ringing was getting louder, maybe my heart thudding harder in my chest.  I crept along listening to the sound, trying to blot it out with thoughts of the mountains.  How calm the night had seen before the storm.  I climbed over a bed and scanned the front of the room as it brightened with a blaze from the windows. Shadows raced back into place as the light died, I thought eyes were staring back at me but I didn’t have the NV of the camera.  Couldn’t be anything there.  Just the noise in my head making me feel like there was something that should be there, but couldn’t be. My camera.  Think about that for a bit.  Where would it be?  Fell through the floorboards, would be on the floor below here if it didn’t shatter into a million pieces.  My quest seemed lost, everything I had been through, everything that I had witnessed was on that camera.  I would go completely insane, and they’d find my body with my last words scrawled into the notebook and they’ll scratch their heads, no clue of what the hell happened here.  What horrors were witnessed. The camera will be there, in one piece, because I will it to be so.  With my fuckin mind! Bed frames and shelves.  They filled the gaps on either side of me as I moved towards another set of open doors.  It amazed me how comforting furniture could be in a place like this.  It looked like the doors had been blown apart, I couldn’t find where the other had fallen.  A sound startled me, the clatter of timber as something came down hard on the floor above.  I knelt down and listened to the noises of footfalls overhead, silt trickled down getting into my eye.   I blinked it out then checked beyond the doorframe, a soft whimper wheezed out of me at the black veil that greeted me.  I would get lost forever and die of hunger, or get beaten to death by someone in the dark.  By a shape in the dark. My spirits were lifted when the frail light spilled from a crack in the wall.  I crawled to it, on my hands and knees, and peered inside hearing water running from somewhere.  Another shower room.  Lockers had been torn from the walls and stacked in odd areas, some were left along the floor.  I tested the stability of the plaster that blocked me, and found I could tear the chunks out.  Enough that I could easily slip myself under. I entered and stood up and made my way along the side of the room that was open, and into the shadows that devoured my form.  I used my less torn up left hand and set my fingers on the wall feeling where I was going and tried not to get turned around, but my fears were unfounded, the wall gave way to the other side of the washroom and a light blazed from the ceiling. I checked a few of the stalls that would open, confirming there was no one hiding, nothing to surprise me.  The drum of the water intermingled with the buzzing in my head, my body quivered despite how dry the top layer of my coat had become.  It was bone quaking trembles, stemming from my muscles.  I needed to shut the water off, stop the insistent white noise.  I tried to figure out how to work the faucet, but the valve was snapped and spun uselessly in my grip. Beneath the spout was a tear in the floor, the wood exposed under the tile and something under that.  I went to the next stall over, the door taken somewhere left the access open for full view.  Inside was a large hole to the level below, and where my camera must be. I dropped down onto a plank of wood, and felt the hollow vibrations of lockers through my feet.  For a moment I listened and waited, that had been loud.  The drum of water above enveloped my senses, I few droplets of icy water splattered my neck.  Along the ceiling the thick pipes transporting the water crossed, thick calcite had formed along edges where water seeped.  Rather wait and confirm my isolation I crawled down onto the next floor. It was a sizable closet to store supplies and some furniture.  Everything had been dragged out into halls and used to board up doors, it was empty but for the lockers gathered into the center of the room.  I walked around it before I located the door, it was a relief to escape the consistent sound rattling my mind.  I gave no consideration to someone waiting outside, how reckless I was being.  I didn’t care.  I peeked out into the dark hall. The edges of a broken bed came into focus, the light from the closet didn’t tread far but the glow of another lamp did reach around a corner some distance away.  It was impossible to tell with the wall of black.  I opted to follow the light for now, until I needed to get lost in the dark.  I’d save that as last option if I could.  The hall that cut right was too bright for comfort, I lingered by the wall briefly, the light didn’t extended far.  Beyond the shadows bars were stacked, or bed frames, silhouetted against soft light a large window.  I really wanted to know that lights origins. I climbed over a broken bed frame and listened, as the crackle of thunder and the flash of static illuminated a figure darting across the room far ahead.  It looked like he had some destination in mind, but I wouldn’t just stand at the edge of the shadows and wait for him to come this way.  Couldn’t be certain of what I saw, I wasn’t confident in the stability of my mental faculty. A door boarded up on my left thudded as something hit it, or fought to get through.  I picked up the pace before they could get through while I was there.  Those boards had held all through the shit storm, there was no reason for them to give now. Light pulsed through the bars of the beds stacked at the end of a hall, cutting me off from the room.  But I was certain the figure I’d seen had been there as well.  A hall was to my left with light spilling like cold silver between the bars of a gate.  It was too far up out of sight, I couldn’t see where the light filtered down from. I hesitate when I thought there was a voice, or someone mumbling.  I listened, trying to get past the ringing in my own head.  The silence without the constant drum of rain on windows to drown out my thoughts, made the walls vibrate with a resonance of silence that was almost as thunderous as the sound of clatter.  No longer could I hear the voice, but it was probably my paranoia diluting my senses.  I was on high alert and couldn’t shut myself out. As I neared the corner, leaning forward— A man lunged out at me snaring my neck and bad shoulder.  I gave half a yelp as the air was cut off in my throat, the man yelled in my face and shook me.  My vision buzzed with static as he applied pressure, I couldn’t decide which was hurting worse.  The blood flow had been severely hindered by his grip on my neck and my ears started ringing.  I slapped my hands down over his elbows and struggled to pull his arms off, get them unlocked as he pushed forward nearly causing me to topple.  When I fell it would be all over, I wouldn’t have the leverage to throw him off.  I didn’t have it now. When I reached my limit, I knew I couldn’t take much more of this, I dropped to my back on the hard tile and somersault backwards.  The patient, placing all his weight against me fell forward.  I jammed my foot into his stomach and propelled him along as he tumbled over me.  Weak and stunned, I rolled aside not prepared for what would come next.  I only heard the man climb to his feet and dart off screaming about the coming and Billy.  That went well… I coughed into the floor until my throat reformed, the cold and dusty air of the Asylum a welcomed return. I was still rubbing the soreness out of my neck as I CAUTIOUSLY ventured into the next room.  I felt the walls as I went, making sure I wasn’t missing any doors that could lead to the room my camera was in.  I had no idea where it might have fallen, I would just go through the rooms I could find and then go into more detailed search once I was comfortable with the layout. The patients spent all of their time in this place, skulking through the dark, hiding in the shadows.  No wonder they could track me in the dead black.  With no other option, they had adapted to this way of life.  A scary thought. A wild blaze burned through the room, and for a brief moment I could see figures, men shaped.  One crouched on a table holding bars, fully focused on the world outside, a far away world.  I slunk forward, the second one seemed to be staring across the room directly at me but made no action.  I kept along the side of a bar, or some sort of countertop on the opposite side of the room.  I lost track of the other figure that had been in here, but as the windows pulsed with storm I located a door to the side of the room.   I lurched back and dropped to my side when something flashed in my vision, what exactly I couldn’t be sure.  But I felt nothing, no punishing blow and heard no sound of feet.  I couldn’t even be certain I had seen anything to frighten me, only that I had fallen on my side and felt the warm spot on my back.  I just wanted my camera.  It didn’t matter if I made it out alive, I just wanted my camera back. I crawled pathetically through the double doors that awaited, there was one tall window at the end of corridor, but the oppressive shadows huddled at the very breath of its light.  It appeared to be the connecting hall, where I saw the figure dart through.  I lifted to my feet and held my arms out, unable to see an inch in front of me.  I kept on my toes ready to run at the sound of movement, anything that indicated I was not alone.  I didn’t feel alone, but I couldn’t believe I would miss another living presence in the small space I now occupied.  The concept that this was an error of my thought, terrified me.  I was probably not alone, just kidding myself again. I took a shallow breath as I felt around the edges of another door, a lamp from outside glistened off the metal bars of shelves.  I blinked, and saw red, blood vessels in my eyes as the storm blazed.  My breath was labored and dots evaporated at my vision, contrasting with the shadows.  I blinked but I still couldn’t see. I moved around the shelves trying not to linger long in the light.  Another doorway opened in my path, on the other side windows cut long shapes on the tiled floor.  I crouched down and put my face just far enough past the opening to see what lay ahead, but was met with the invading veil of black.  I thought I heard movement, a voice, but as I bided my time and listened trying to perceive what my eyes failed to, it felt like my mind was playing tricks on me again. Something glint in the corner of my eye, and I drew back to spin on it but saw nothing.  Just the beads of the metal shelves as the light hit their sides.  I took a deep breath, I was shaking badly and my head pounded with the soft prattle of rain.  Or was that the humming in my bones?  Why’d I keep thinking of these things? I forced myself to leave the doorway and scoot away from the wall, into the indiscriminate shadows.  It was some sort of commune room with tables bolted to the floor.  Maybe the patients cafeteria, or some sort of indoor recreational area?  Being in this room right now unsettled me, like being in an orphanage after some sort of catastrophe killed all the children there.  Almost the same difference, if you considered the less violent patients.  Just mentally wrong, and locked away from their families that might’ve been trying to do the right thing for them. The cold seeped through my coat, I had not nearly dried out yet, even so it just seemed to burrow into everything.  It was getting darker as I moved from the windows, into areas of boarded up doors and the suppressive veil tightening over my shoulders.  I slipped over a broken counter, a frame with glittering glass sat before metal slats for trays.  This might’ve been the patients cafeteria, or where medicines was dispensed.  It was the same thing, wasn’t it? I saw something in the furthest distance flicker against the black wall.  I paused to stare and barely believed my eyes.  I blinked.  Was it possible?  On that table beside a large cooking pot? I let out a small whine, it was!  My camera!  Right there, not no more than a few feet away. Okay Miles, keep it together.  There’s the camera, don’t go running over there and tripping and tearing your fingers open again. But…My camera!  I edged towards it, pushing my senses into the wall of black, working to determine if there was anything I could stumble over, anything left lying in my path.  Something clattered to the floor, echoing off the walls in the next room.  I had no idea what that was from.  Might have been the floor above, the broken room my camera fell from still settling in my absence.   I could sense movement.  I couldn’t be sure if this was my paranoia or the unnatural state this room was in, where I was accompanied by a threat.  The big fucker?  I wouldn’t know until I picked up the camera, and by then it might be too late.  It sounded like something was being smashed on hollow metal, or someone was trying to flush something out. I dithered for a moment, debating what I should do. It was getting me nowhere, so I continued forward trying not to imagine what was beyond the black lurking at the edges of my senses.  I was distracted in my elation, finally the comfort of the camera back in my hands.  But I had not reached it yet, I was still vulnerable.  Too vulnerable.  Keep calm, deep breaths.  I was shaking, the nerves in my muscles buzzing into my mind.  Get the camera, it’d clear things up for me. I began to pick up on something else as well.  The typical rot of the asylum, of old bodies left to decompose into the carpet and wood, which was constant in the back of my mind.  But I was sure I smelt the patients.  Don’t think I’m being weird, you can go fuck yourself – but, it was that musty smell they had.  The baked on sweat, filthy clothing and the disregard for hygiene they shared, with this place going to hell.  It was the smell of something alive, and it was getting stronger. I put my hands on the pale light of the desk, where the NV poured out of the visor.  I couldn’t quiet my breathing, I had to get the camera and turn it, locate what it was in the dark.  My hands quaked on the cool wood, and I shuffled around to the backside and set my hands over my camera.   It was like reuniting with an old friend that I thought was lost forever.  Such a strong feeling for an inanimate object, but it still brought tears to my eyes.  I gently picked it up and fitted my ruined finger under the strap, then fixed the visor; it had been jarred before it dropped through the floor.  Slowly, I brought it to my eyes, reveling in the familiarity of seeing the distorted green hue of my surroundings.  The buzzing in my head was thunderous now, and I slowly turned from a solid wall on my right, to the large room revealed through the visor.

#miles upshure #outlast #outlast fanfiction #outlast novelized