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chlorinecake · 8 months

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PART 1: GHOST FACE YANDERE imagine

ＢｌｏｏｄＯｎＩｃｅ | 얼음에 피 - a park sunghoon ff

⚡︎ cw: mentions of suicide, violence, bullying, character deaths, swearing, underage drinking, unprotected sex, bad ending lol, ft. ive’s WONYOUNG and le sserafim’s KAZUHA

⚡︎ summary: sunghoon seeks revenge against the girls that bullied his little sister in high school, leading up to her tragic suicide

⚡︎ wc: 8.3k ~ read part 2 here!!

three years ago

For Sunghoon Park, death was hardly a foreign concept. He committed his first murder around the age of eighteen, the victim being a fellow athlete from his ice skating team, Cha Jun-Hwan. The dynamic pair maintained a solid friendship since the day they met, up until Sunghoon’s sixteen-year-old half-sister, Wonyoung, blossomed into a beautiful young lady. She stopped wearing glasses and got her braces removed, but most importantly, she was confident in her own skin. “You’re more beautiful than any princess I’ve ever seen, Wonyo. Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise,” Sunghoon would encourage her every day in front of her vanity mirror. “Thank you, Sunghoon-ah! You always know how to cheer me up” she’d smile, patting his head as she left for school.

Eventually, Wonyoung started dating Jun-Hwan behind Sunghoon’s back. Their secret relationship went on for about 3 months before Sunghoon caught them during a half-naked-make-out session in Wonyoung’s bedroom. She sat on the edge of her bed as if frozen, wearing black gym shorts and a pink bralette. Jun-Hwan was topless as well, with Wonyoung’s love bites decorating his bare chest. A mix of rage and disgust burned being Sunghoon's eyes. Grabbing a large pillow to cover her exposed figure, Jun-Hwan rambled on, “Sunghoon, I can explain! We meant to tell you sooner, but-“

“Get the fuck out of my house before I kill you,” Sunghoon threatened sharply, before an embarrassed Jun-Hwan ran out the door, leaving the Park siblings to figure things out.

Some time passed, and rumors about Wonyoung ran rampant throughout her high school, most of which being initiated by Jun-Hwan himself. An immeasurable pity birthed within Sunghoon whenever he’d hear the muffled sobs coming from his sister’s bedroom at night as she struggled to get any sleep. He wanted Jun-Hwan to pay for the pain he’d brought upon her.

The plan was simple, really.

Sunghoon made it look like a camping trip gone wrong, killing off four of his teammates including Jun-Hwan in the woods. He made it look like a vicious bear attack, which surprisingly fooled the police, leaving him scot-free.

Sunghoon went on to quit his dreams of becoming an Olympic champion, pursuing the academic route instead.

Though, Wonyoung’s torment was far from over.

A group of mean girls called her names like “piranha pussy” and “semen demon” after Jun-Hwan’s death, claiming that she supernaturally killed him during intimacy. Suffering from constant scrutiny at school and grieving the loss of her first boyfriend, despite all that he'd said about her, Wonyoung was driven to commit the unspeakable, and took her own life. Her body was buried soon after, with posts like “Gone too soon” and “fly high, princess 🕊️🎀” pinned on everyone’s socials, including the mean girls.

After his sister's death, Sunghoon was never the same. His innate will to kill only grew stronger as the years went by. He made a promise to Wonyoung on her funeral, saying that he would someday avenge her no matter how long it'd take him.

➠ three years later, wednesday

“Sunghoon is hosting a party at his place this Friday night. Wanna come?” Your friend Kazuha asked you from her end of the phone. She developed a habit of face timing you whenever she was in the mood for a movie. You were busy scrolling through Netflix catalogs from the comfort of your couch, searching for a descent film.

“Sunghoon Park?” You inquired at the familiar name.

“The sad rich kid whose sister committed suicide after her boyfriend died? Yes, that guy,” she said, struggling to open a jar of pickles.

“Ugh, I could totally use your feminine power muscles right now," she cried, her face contorting as she fought with all her might to release the tight lid.

“That sounds kinda gay, Kaz.”

“Only for you, ____,” she winked playfully before searching her kitchen drawers for a butter knife.

“I mean, are you sure he’s okay with us coming considering how we treated his little sister?” You stopped your scrolling, putting the tv remote down on the coffee table.

“It’s not our fault she couldn’t handle a few jokes.” Kazuha retrieved the lost butter knife from the dishwasher, walking back to the counter,

“Doesn't it make you feel guilty sometimes?”

“C’mon, ____, that was ages ago! And besides, we were kids, we didn't know any better,” she lied, neglecting the fact that you were both well informed of the life-threatening dangers that came with bullying. Kazuha was just having a hard time admitting it.

You were quiet for a moment. How could she be so insensitive?

“Whatever," you mumbled, reaching for the remote again, swiping through the horror movie section. "What’s the hype around this party for, anyways?”

“It’s a costume party, silly!”

Although you were on movie-hunting duty, this conversation was starting to make you sleepy.

“Girl? Are you yawning?”

“Give me a break, Kaz! It's past my bedtime, now pay attention to your pickles,” you joked, rubbing the urge to sleep from your eyes with your free hand.

“It’s the last week of summer break. Don’t let productivity get in the way of your fun before school starts again,” Kazuha protested in both her defense and your favor.

You meditated on her words for a moment before answering.

“Ugh, fine! Only if you promise to join me at the mall for some early morning costume shopping,” you negotiated, pointing a finger at her through your phone.

“Yay!” She cheered, bouncing around her kitchen in a fit of joy, accidentally knocking the glass jar of pickles unto the floor.

“Dammit,” she swore under her breath, running out of frame to likely grab a mop or broom.

Ring. Ring.

You glanced from the tv, taking a quick peek at your phone: Unknown Caller ID.

Hanging up, you proceeded to scroll through Netflix.

Ring. Ring.

The same number was calling you again.

Kazuha was now back in frame, both her broom and mop keeping her hands occupied.

“You can call me back after you check that, if you want.”

“No worries, it’s just some random unknown number that can’t find a hobby.”

“Oooo, spooky,” she said in a teasing voice.

You hung up the incoming call, only for it to call you back once again. Now you were curious.

“Uhm, I’m gonna call you back, Kaz,” you said before hanging up.

“Kk!”

You answered the unknown caller, holding the phone up to your ear.

“Hello?” You asked.

“I’ve been dying for you to answer.”

“Yeah? And how’re you feeling now?”

“Honestly, I’ve been better. What’re you up to?”

“Looking for a good movie to fall asleep to.”

“Really? What genre?”

“Dunno. Probably something scary.”

“Do you like scary movies?”

Yikes. These prank callers really needed to step up their scare game. You decided to play along.

“Yeah, I guess I do.” It took everything in you not to cackle at how ridiculous you sounded. This mystery man was truly a recycled character.

“Hmm, you never told me your name, by the way.”

“Hmm, and I don’t think I will.”

“Oh, it’s because you have a boyfriend, isn’t it?”

“Nooo. Now tell me, why do you want to know my name? Huh?”

“So I can know who I’m looking at.”

You rolled your eyes at his cliche script.

“Right, so anyways, I’m gonna hang up now and you can just…uh, I don’t know, touch yourself til you’re content again.”

“Don’t hang up on m-“

What a loser, you thought to yourself, calling Kazuha back.

“Hi! What did they want?”

“It was just some nerd trying to prank call me.”

“No way. Did he sound hot?”

“Kaz, do you wanna watch this stupid movie or not?”

“Fine, fine, I’ve got my pickles and everything. Now press play!”

➠ thursday

Another easy day spent between you and Kazuha went by. After raiding the strip mall’s clothing shops (and food courts) in search of the sexiest party costumes available, you two agreed on an “Angel x Devil” duo theme. Kazuha chose the devil costume, handing you the sparkly white halo from the angel set. “It’s giving Victoria’s Secret,” Kazuha said, checking herself out in the changing room mirror before striking an awkward pose. You could tell she was trying to lighten the mood, but you couldn't get over how uncomfortable the revealing outfit made you feel. You and Kaz used to slut shame girls who dressed like this, only to turn around and do the same thing yourself. This whole experience felt hypocritical. “I look like an attention-whore,” you said to the mirror, a pitiful expression waving over your features. Kazuha walked over to you, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Cheer up, ____. You’re more beautiful than any attention-whore I’ve ever seen, and don't you ever let someone tell you otherwise,” she smiled, kissing you on the head.

“Yay, how flattering.”

“No, I’m serious. We’re gonna be sophomores next semester. How long is it gonna take before we explore our scandalous side? Unless you plan on dying a virgin.”

Oh, the horror.

You considered her words for a moment, giving yourself one more look in the mirror.

“I guess this corset makes my boobs look pretty nice…”

“That’s the spirit! Now c’mon my child. Follow sugar mommy Zuha to the register,” she cheered in a high pitched voice, collecting the clothing tags and paying for your costumes.

➠ friday

12:23pm

You walked into the craft store and were greeted by the smell of sawdust and lumber. Grabbing a hand basket, you strolled around the aisles in search for a few repair materials. Last week, Kazuha accidentally broke the shelf you had installed in your wall with her heavy stretching equipment. Needless to say, you were left to pick up the pieces. To your misfortune, the wood glue was placed on an abnormally high rack. Raising up on tippy toes, you extended your arm, barely grazing the item with your fingertips. That’s when a tall figure reached over your frame, obtaining the wood glue with ease. “Thought you might want a little help with that,” the deep voice chimed, placing the wood glue in your basket.

You looked up to meet his face, jolting as if you’d seen a ghost. The helpful stranger proved to be none other than Sunghoon Park, the older brother of the girl you bullied to suicide back in high school. The last time you saw Sunghoon was at his sister’s funeral, which was almost three years ago. “Are you okay,” he asked, noticing the way your features fell at the sight of him. You tried to recollect your thoughts, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Y- yeah, I’m okay. Thanks,” you said nodding, trying to reassure the both of you.

He eyed you curiously, finding your bashfulness to be rather endearing.

“Do I,” he began, pointing at himself and back to you, “-have we met before?”

“No, I uh- Well, kind of. I- I knew your sister,” you admitted, trying to ignore your own stuttering.

“Oh, I remember. You’re ____, right? Yeah. Wonyo told me all about you and your friends. Who were they again?”

“Kazuha and Maddison.”

“Hmm, and where are they now,” he asked, following along as you subconsciously picked up a pack of brad nails.

“Well, Kaz is actually coming to your party tonight. Maddie moved away a while ago after her brother passed in the camping accident.”

All he did was smile in response. You found that odd, but didn’t give it much thought as he kept talking.

“You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about those years recently.”

You nodded, hoping he would continue.

“I tried telling her to ignore the rumors. To keep smiling and focusing on things that made her happy. I guess it just came to a point where she couldn’t pretend anymore.”

Something in you wanted to say sorry, but you came to realize a long time ago that apologies lacked much worth anyway, benefiting the offender more than the offended. You wondered if he even knew how you used to treat her.

You made your way to the check out line, placing your basket on the conveyor belt. The cashier scanned your items, and you handed her your debit card.

“I’ve been thinking about her, too. Wonyoung was such a bright soul, and put her all in everything she did. She used to talk about you all the time, sharing stories of how amazing you were on the ice. She was so proud of you.”

“Yeah,” his voice cracked.

“Would you like your receipt,” the employee asked cheerfully.

“No, that’s okay. Have a good day,” you wished, taking your shopping bag in one hand and Sunghoon’s wrist in the other.

He was docile as you guided him outside of the craft store, pulling him to face you. Breaking the tension, you gave him a hug, leaning into his chest.

He restrained his sniffles rather well before pulling away as if he wasn’t just on the verge of crying.

“So, are you in school,” he asked, started up a new conversation.

“Yeah, I’m a sophomore. We actually go to the same university.”

“Really? I’ve never seen you around before. I’m a junior. What’s your major?”

“English.”

“Ahh, that makes sense. I’m majoring in Psychology, so we won’t have many classes together.”

You couldn’t believe that he was actually this comfortable talking with you. It was a relief knowing that he didn’t hold his sister’s passing against you.

“Well, enough with the sad stuff, I’ve got some last minute errands to run for the party, so I’ll see you tonight, alright? Do you need a ride?”

“Yeah, actually. Thanks for offering.”

Why was he being so nice?

“Yeah, no problem! I’ll pick u up around 8, okay? It was nice meeeting you again!”

“Yeah, you too!”

2:41pm

9:03pm

It was a Friday night and the mood was right, as some would say. You and Kazuha were dressed to impress in your flirty costumes, earning yourself glares from every corner of the room. You arrived a little later then anticipated, but were still thankful for Sunghoon’s kind gesture of driving you two all the way here. However, he’d been missing in action for the past hour, and you were really hoping that you would have the chance to talk with him again. In the meantime, you sat on one of his fancy couches, enjoying the lively rhythms of the music. Colorful flashing lights kissed the tall ceiling, with an array of drinks and snacks displayed at a bar. You knew Sunghoon was rich, but he had really outdone himself.

Walking over to the bar, you grabbed one of the plastic red cups and filled it with whatever flavored liquid enticed you from the large punch bowl, having a seat at one of the metal bar stools. You gave the drink a whiff before taking a sip.

Someone had definitely spiked the juice.

Although you currently had no one around to chat with, you tried to find some enjoyment in the crowded solitude, watching fellow party goers dance their hearts out before joining them yourself.

9:13pm

Kazuha invited herself to take a tour around Sunghoon’s fancy abode, that honestly felt more like a mansion than a home. She wasn’t sure if it was the faint traces of alcohol in her system, but she was certainly in the mood for a good time. Walking through his home’s back door, she spotted him sitting near his pool, staring at the wind-produced waves. She walked towards him, sitting in the idle seat beside him.

“Hi,” he started, barely glancing at her before looking back at the water, reflecting the moon’s beautiful glow.

“Hi. You didn’t dress up for your own party,” she chuckled, swirling the red liquid in her cup.

“I am dressed up. As myself, of course.”

“So, ‘Sunghoon Park’ is a part of your costume then, yeah?”

“Maybe. Would you like to get to know the real me?”

“Maybe,” she said in between a long sip of the fruity drink she held in her hand.

“If you could be anything at all, what would you be?”

Sunghoon rested his elbows on his thighs in a thinking position.

“A ghost.”

“You’d make one goon of a ghost,” she humored herself until she noticed that he wasn’t amused by her antics.

“Ghosts are liberal beings, free from the taxing cares of this blood and bone world.”

‘Who wouldn’t want that,’ Sunghoon thought to himself.

“Uhuh. So, how do you think your dead little sister is enjoying her boring life as a graveyard ghoul?” He froze at her question, gripping his fists around nothing, trying to get a hold of his emotions.

Kazuha was being a bitch on purpose. It was an innate attitude of hers that she had yet to break. Still and all, she couldn’t help but wonder what Wonyoung would be like if she was still here.

‘If they’re better than me, they’re better gone,’ Kazuha often reminded herself, more so as an affirmation, rather than out of belief.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Sunghoon retorted, searching his blazer pocket for his silver flask, taking a thick gulp from its spout. Kazuha watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed with each swallow, marveling at the shadow of facial hair growing on his chin.

Cute.

His jaw clenched at the strong drink, the condensation from the silver canister leaving a print from his warm fingertips.

“Want some,” he asked, giving her a nonchalant look.

“Sure,” she said, opening her mouth for him to pour a stream of the amber liquid down her throat.

“You have a pretty tongue,” he said, using a thumb to toy with her lower lip.

Kazuha felt dizzy under Sunghoon’s dark gaze, his piercing eyes telling of all the bad things he planned to do to her.

He laid a hand on her exposed thigh, gripping at the plush skin. “Look at you, squirming in your seat for me and I’ve barely even touched you,” he whispered against her lips, tasting the rum that flavored her mouth with a kitten lick. Her eyes fluttered at the action. How was he so comfortable doing this in front of all these people?

“Is this why you hated Wonyo for so long? Because she could pull hot guys like me effortlessly? I never understood why it was so hard for you, anyway, considering that you go both ways,” he slithered.

She grabbed his wrist, snatching his grasp from her face.

“What? I thought we were having a little fun,” he grinned like a sly fox, displaying his pearly fangs.

“No, Goon! You were having fun!” She got up from the poolside, adjusting her clothes and wiping her mouth. “I don’t wanna be here anymore, tell ____ I’ll see her tomorrow.”

He set his eyes back on the water, taking another sip from the flask.

She waved her arms above her head frantically, trying to get his attention again. “Aren’t you gonna take me home?”

“Forget it, Kaz. You can walk home for all I care.”

She scoffed to herself. “You’re joking.”

“And you’re a classless bitch who bullies girls who’re better than you,” he spat, tucking his flask away in his jacket pocket before getting up to walk in the opposite direction of her.

“Sunghoon! I can’t walk home by myself in the middle of the night! I’ll get chopped up by some weirdo or something!”

“I’m afraid that’s not my problem,” he said, not turning meeting her face. “And by the way, I want you outta here in the next two minutes or else I’m calling the police!”

Kazuha gave Sunghoon the bird, walking the walk of shame as she left his party alone, dressed as the slutty devil he had made her feel like.

9:40pm

Kazuha took short strides as she walked along the concrete sidewalk, trying to get back home before her legs gave out. On the way, she found a random stick lying on a neighborhood lawn. She decided to keep it with her as a weapon, just in case she needed to defend herself.

Ring. Ring.

She answered her phone without looking.

“Kazzieeee.”

“Hello? Who’s this?”

“Oh, we know each other very well.”

A lightbulb went off in Kazuha’s head.

“You’re the perv that prank called my friend a few nights ago, right?” She said, subconsciously walking faster, feeling paranoid for some reason, though, she tried to mask it with humor.

“Where are you going?” The voice on the other end asked.

“Home,” she answered for reasons she didn’t understand.

“I can wait for you at the door if you like.”

“I think I’d like it a little bit more if you found some friends instead.”

“Then why are you walking away from me, you rude devil?”

She turned around to check her surroundings, waving the stick weapon at the sight of a stop sign, dim street lights, and suburban houses. She cackled at herself.

“Oh man, you really had me there for a second,” she sighed, turning back around.

“So, are you gonna invite me in or do I have to force my way?”

“Ugh, what’re you talking about now?”

“I'm talking about how much fun it’s gonna be to rip your insides out!"

Kazuha’s eyes bucked in fear. She never expected the caller to threaten her.

“C- call me again, a- and I’ll call the police,” Kazuha warned in a trembling voice.

It’s hard to sound brave when you’re scared for your life.

The unknown caller let out a mocking chuckle, thoroughly amused by her responses.

She lifted the phone to her face.

“HANG UP AND YOU’LL DIE-“

The dial tone filled the stale night air.

Kazuha fished through her mini bag, looking for her AirPod case. She opened the Spotify app on her phone, clicking on her “Chyll Vybe” playlist. Swallowing her anxiety, she hoped that some upbeat music would take her mind off her fear. Something in her told her to warn you about Sunghoon, and she listened, sending you a quick text before power walking down the side walk. She lip-synced to the melody, trying to lift her spirits.

9:49pm

iMessage from ”Kazzie 🦢🩰” — I still don’t trust Sun-Goon. Pls don’t go anywhere near/with him 🙏

Reply: Where r u?

read

9:50pm

Kazuha felt like someone was watching her. That’s when she looked to her side and saw a tall clothed figure with a scanty white mask walking beside her. She flinched, “Oh my God, you scared the hell out of me!”

The person stayed silent.

“I don’t remember seeing you at Sunghoon’s costume part-“ Kazuha lurched forward over nothing, the clothed figure tearing through her flesh with a sharp blade, scraping the bone beneath.

Kazuha groaned at the feeling, gripping the offender’s arm at the profound pain.

The figure pushed her wounded body on the ground, taking the knife out of her abdomen before stabbing her again and again, until her ragged breaths couldn’t keep up with the continuous blood flow. Kazuha whimpered and winced, even after the stabbing had stopped, her abused innards glistening under the soft moonlight. She watched as the psychopath removed her AirPods from her ears before walking away, leaving her dying body on the pavement.

He put her headphones in his own ears before comically mimicking the way Kazuha was ‘power-walking’ earlier. Rihanna’s cover of Same Ol’ Mistakes blared from the white pods, chanting the lyric:

“But you've got your demons and she's got her regrets.”

“What a lovely song to die to,” the killer chimed, skipping off into the distance.

10:11pm

Buzz. Buzz.

Your phone vibrated in your white hand purse. Pulling out your phone, the bright screen revealed a text from an unknown number.

What a wonderful surprise.

You jotted in your password before finally checking the message.

You spun in your seat, searching the crowd behind you. The dancing party lights hindered your vision. You got up from your seat, stepping closer to get a better look. Goosebumps dawned on the surface of your skin at the sight of the hooded figure in a distorted caricature mask, gripping a knife in their right hand. It was a horrific look to say the least.

“Screw you.” You typed angrily on your phone to the unknown number, blocking the contact and putting your phone back away. You just realized how long it’s been since you saw Kaz, so you went out to go and find her.

“You shouldn’t have done that, ____,” you heard a dark voice say from behind you. You ignored it, thinking it was just your paranoia playing tricks on you.

10:16pm

“Why did you leave my side, Kaz? Kazuha?!” You called out in search for your friend. You didn’t entirely believe what the unknown caller said, but you still wanted to make sure she was okay. You made your way upstairs, opening door after door to no avail. Your friend was no where to be found. “Kazuha?! Seriously, if you don’t come out right now, I’m eating the rest of your dried mangoes-”

Crash.

You bumped into a formally dressed party goer, only to realize that it was Sunghoon.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay,” you worried, fixing the damp hairs that framed his pretty face.

“Oh- your hairs wet.”

“Yeah, I was just at the pool.”

“Must’ve been near the hot tub, you look flushed.”

He offered his hand to lift you up.

“Sorry, but have you seen Kazuha anywhere? She texted me something, and now I can’t find her.”

“Oh, she actually left about half an hour ago,” he admitted, still fixing his clothes from the fall.

“Why? Was she okay?”

“Yes, ____, she was perfectly fine. She probably just felt a little awkward and decided to go home.”

You hummed in response. Unlike Kazuha, you trusted Sunghoon for whatever that reason was, so you didn’t spend anymore time talking about your MIA bestie.

“What’re you doing?”

“Texting her good night. Even though she probably won’t see it til the morning,” you chuckle to yourself, eliciting a smile from Sunghoon himself. You have yet to learn his reasons for smiling at some of the things you say, but you had a feeling there was nothing to worry about.

“Who’s that,” he asked pointing to your conversation with the unknown number.

“Just some rando trying to scare me,” you replied, deleting the conversation before putting your phone back in your purse.

“Hmm, I thought you liked scary,” he replied.

You and Sunghoon started to trail back downstairs, ignoring the way his knuckles occasionally brushed against the back of your hand.

“Hey, uh, I know we don’t know each other very well, but I was hoping we could go somewhere a little more private?”

You considered his offer, thinking about how Kazuha abandoned ship when she was the one who hauled you to this silly party to begin with. The night was still young, and you trusted Sunghoon. You wanted to leave with him.

“Yeah, okay. I’m gonna hit up the ladies room first though, and I’ll meet you out front.”

“Wait, Sunghoon,” you called out. “You haven’t had anything to drink tonight, right?”

“Have you?,” was all he asked before flashing a cheeky smirk, displaying his dimples.

“I’ll be waiting for you in my car, alright” he said, giving you a brief hug before heading to the door.

11:24pm

You weren’t entirely sure where Sunghoon was taking you, but you didn’t really care either.

You were too lost in the way he maneuvered the steering wheel with one hand, captivated by the prominent veins that traced his delicately long fingers.

After some time, Sunghoon pulled the shiny black vehicle into the driveway of a log cabin, hidden within the depths of the forest. The bright car headlights glazed the surface of a rectangular sign hanging above the front door, revealing the words "Park Lodge" carved into the wooden slab.

Sunghoon put the car in park, ceasing the calming sound of the air conditioner. His eyes were still trained on the view behind the windshield.

“So," you began, breaking the silence. "How many girls have you taken here before,” you teased, giving him a curious look.

“None, actually, other than my little sister.”

Peering out the car window, you took in all the trees and wildlife that made up your surroundings. It finally hit you that you were in the middle of nowhere with a guy you had known for less than 24 hours. Oh, if Kazuha could see you now.

“Do you own this place?”

“Yup. My grandfather had it built from the ground up when he was around my age. Now, it belongs to me,” he smiled, trying to mask his pride.

You both exited the vehicle, Sunghoon locking the doors behind you. The sounds of crickets and restless owls greeted your ears. He had shared so much of his belongings with you so far that it almost made you feel guilty.

“I hope I’m not giving off the impression that I’m using you,” you mumbled shyly under your breath, walking closely beside him.

“____, you’re exactly what I need in my life right now. If anything, I’m the one using you.”

Something about his comment made you feel uneasy, but you tried to brush it off. He unlocked the front door, letting you step in before him. Upon entering, the space was dimly lit, with wooden accents trimming each corner. An antique chandelier was the source of the faint light, drawing your attention to the artistic etchings that covered the ceiling. This place was truly a gem.

“You looked really beautiful tonight, by the way,” Sunghoon admitted, interrupting your gawking.

“Shut up,” you bashfully rejected his compliment, feeling a sudden heat rush to your face.

“What? I’m serious.”

“And I’m way too tipsy to think rationally right now.”

“Yeah? And what is it that you’re thinking, then? Honestly?”

You waited before answering him.

“That if you knew just half of what I’ve done in the past, you probably wouldn’t even be talking to me right now.”

He took your hand in his, turning you to face him.

“So stop talking.”

“What?”

“Follow me,” he said, beelining you to another room.

A bedroom.

He flicked one of the light switches before sitting you beside him on the bed. He held intense eye contact with you before speaking.

“I’m not oblivious, ____. You may be a nice girl, but I can tell you have a naughty side, too.”

The thought of you and Kazuha’s shopping adventure reminisced in the back of your mind. Promiscuity came so naturally for her, but for you, it wasn't as easy.

“Trust me, there isn’t a naughty nerve in my body.”

“Not yet, maybe. It just needs to be stimulated, first.”

The word ‘stimulated’ hung in the air for a moment.

“Sunghoon, what are you getting at here-“

You gasped as he stopped you mid sentence, caging you beneath his large frame on the bed.

“Maybe we could start with some on top of the clothes stuff, yeah?”

“Sunghoon, this is a little fast-“

“I really need this from you tonight, okay? Just, please. Let me explore you.”

The desperate look in his eyes softened your heart, sending a sensation of numbness through your limbs. It was hard to process that all of this was actually happening right now. A little voice in your head urged you to let go of the nerves and simply let him. As lust and desire intoxicated your senses, you accepted the fact that you were more than fine with this. More than ready for wherever this night with Sunghoon would take you.

“Okay,” you answered.

“Yeah," he asked in excited disbelief.

“Yes,” you reassured him, nodding.

“Explore me.”

That was the green light Sunghoon had been waiting for, pressing a soft kiss to your lips that quickly escalated into a heated tongue fight. He gently grazed his teeth against your neck, nibbling at the sensitive spot beneath your ear. He snaked a hand between your legs, only for his touch to be hindered by the corseted bodysuit of your angel costume. “May I,” he whispered against your skin, sending a shiver down you spine as his fingers drew circles atop the fabric. You could only nod in response, too pleasure drunk to come up with any words. Tossing the outfit across the room, Sunghoon dipped his fingers into the growing wetness at your core.

“Much better,” he grinned, sliding his fingers up and down past your folds. You reached out to tug at his button up shirt, aching to feel his bare skin against yours. He caught on to your desires pretty quickly, stripping himself before you. You stared in awe at his toned body, sinful thoughts of him flooding your brain. He looked down at your vulnerable figure, smirking to himself.

“Both our clothes are off. You can stop teasing me now,” you said, causing him to chuckle.

“What’re you suggesting I do to you, then,” he questioned, inching closer before meeting you on the bed again.

You felt yourself squeeze around nothing.

“I want you. All of you.”

That’s all it took and Sunghoon was already diving back into your lips, lewd sounds bouncing off the bedroom’s walls. You busied yourself with unzipping his pants, palming the bulge that hid behind his boxers.

“Fuck,” he swore under his breath, pulling his bottoms down the rest of the way, granting you access to stroke his shaft a few times before aligning his tip with your entrance. He pushed himself past your tightness, not giving you any time to adjust to his size before rutting his hips against you, groaning at the intense pleasure you gave him.

➠ saturday

5:04am

Last nights sleep was still fresh on your face, adding a weight to your eyelids that you didn’t care to fight just yet. You were laying flat on your back once you felt a different weight sit atop your hips in a still straddle. Eyes still closed, you knew the pressure came from Sunghoon once the scent of his rosy cologne hit your nostrils. You shut your sleepy eyes tighter as he grazed something sharp across the length of your neck before leaning down to kiss the spot softly, his eyelashes fluttering against your skin. He traced the sharp object across the stature of your collarbone and the valley between your chest, tracing another straight line down your stomach to your navel.

Poke.

The sharpness barely pierced you before your eyes shot open at the sting. A shirtless Sunghoon sat on your lap with a large knife in his right hand, the fresh blood from your stomach coating it’s tip. You weren’t naked, but you were only wearing his oversized white poplin shirt from the night before, now stained with a few drops of ruby red. Looking around, you noticed countless stab impressions on the mattress.

Sunghoon must’ve violently stabbed a circle around your head while you slept, loose cotton and feathers covering the messy bedspread.

He looked up from his ministrations and saw that you were awake. You wanted to scream for your life, even though you knew no one would hear you.

“SUNGHOON-,” you tried, but he covered your mouth with his free hand, a sent of iron lingering in your nose.

“Don’t you think it’s a little early to be screaming? The trees might think I’m abusing you in here!”

You rustled under his palm before biting his hand, eliciting a groan from his throat.

“What the fuck is this, huh,” you asked, trying to get up from under him. He wrestled with your arms, pining your wrists to the bed.

“I commend your bravery, but try some shit like that again and I’ll finish cutting you open.”

His eyes were dark, void of any moral conscience. He brought the knife up to your neck, toying with the ripples that made up your anxious throat. “You deserve this for what you did to her, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have a little fun with you first.” He smirked at whatever perverse thoughts ran through his mind. Your breathing became ragged, as the urge to cry grew in your chest.

“Aww, we’ve got a crier,” Sunghoon teased, pouting back at you.

“K-Kaz, sh-she, she tried to warn me.”

“A- an- and you probably sh- should’ve listened,” he replied, mocking the way you stuttered. “I still would’ve caught your ass later, anyways.”

“You fucking killed her!”

“Oh, please. That bitch had the mouth of a viper, someone was gonna put her in her place eventually.”

“You’re insane!”

“I’m also self aware.”

The tears were becoming too much for your eyes to hold back, as thick streams poured from your eyelids, dampening your supple cheeks.

“You took my virginity because of your dead sister?” You yelled again in utter disgust.

“Oh, don’t act like you didn’t fucking enjoy it.”

You spat in his eye.

“You missed my mouth, princess,” he said in a low voice before wiping the spit off of his face, smearing it against your chest.

“You’re into this, huh? Look how hard your nipples have gotten.”

He put his sweaty forehead against yours, planting a tender kiss to your lips that for some reason, you didn’t reject.

“You know, I did enjoy exploring you last night.”

He kissed you again, pushing his hot tongue past your lips, dancing with yours.

“I enjoyed our taste”

He kissed your neck, gripping your throat until your vision went blurry.

“I enjoyed your scent.”

He grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled it like horse reins, causing a choked moan to erupt from you mouth.

“I enjoyed the pretty sounds you made for me.”

He glided his digits between your wet folds, dipping his delicate fingers into your entrance.

“Sunghoon!”

“I enjoyed the way you cried out my name as you clenched around my fingers,” he slithered seductively.

“Fuck, get off of me!”

He was in the middle of admiring your tits when he looked up to meet your rage-ridden eyes, his own face a flushed hue from the heat engulfing your sweaty bodies. He sighed in disappointment.

“You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?”

“Ugh,” you squirmed, fighting your hardest to escape his grasp.

“How long do you think your weak little body can take my insatiable urges to torture you before it finally gives out? Huh? Making you suffer will bring all the more fulfillment to my life.”

“God, Sunghoon, I don’t care anymore! Kill me! We’ll burn in hell together, I guess!”

“Jeez, would you quit pretending like you want to die? You’re taking all the fun out of it,” he said, rolling his eyes.

The sounds of your choked sobs filled the room’s miserable air.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” you sniffled beneath him.

“Here,” he offered, throwing the knife across the room, causing you to jump at nothing, “allow me to clear it up for you. When I care about someone, I don’t let anyone fucking touch them. Yet, you and your friends managed to hurt her without even doing so.”

“We didn’t know she would take it that far, Sunghoon,” you pleaded in between sobs.

“I didn’t know that my sister would be taken away from me by a bunch of mindless teenage sluts with big and dirty dick sucking mouths! Life’s unfair!”

“Fuck you,” you retorted, feeling lightheaded from all of your screaming and crying. He snickered to himself, presumably finding amusement in how pathetic you sounded. Combing his hair back with a clawed hand, he peered down, looking into your eyes.

“I’ve had just about enough of your talking, princess,” he said, reaching for a towel to shove in your mouth.

Only muffled screams filled the room from there.

He would never admit that it was his own vanity keeping you alive. He’d call it mercy, when deep down, it was his twisted craving for your touch that stopped him from going all the way during torture sessions. Your life had been reduced to its lowest, never to see the mere light of day again. He kept you in an underground basement, lined with bricks and mortar to ensure that you’d never escape his sadistic dictation. Everyday behind those walls felt like an eternity of ‘toy versus toddler tantrum’s.’ If only you knew that a simple mistake you made in high school would be the very wrecking ball to sabotage your entire life.

❅ Thank you for reading @chlorinecake ‘s “Blood On Ice.” Make sure to check out more fun reads on my enhypen bookshelf!

❅ Special thanks to @ashgonedash for requesting this creative piece and @fanficfactoryfoxxx for curing my writers block!!! 🎂

✎ ᴀ/ɴ: in no way, shape, or form does this fanfic intend to romanticize unhealthy relationships or abusive behaviors. i simply write for entertainment and creative purposes. thus, reader discretion is always advised.

!¡update: BLOOD ON ICE part TWO coming SOON, introducing more direct yandere themes and plot exploration!! stay tuned 🎧

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mochinek0 · 4 months

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Daminette December 2023: 15-Lost A Bet (SUB)

Damian wouldn't say he hated someone, but he hated Marinette. She was a new employee at Wayne Enterprise and she was a giant distraction. He would catch himself watching her.

'This has got to stop!'

"I want to make a bet with you." Damian announced as Marinette walked by his office.

"Fine." Marinette spoke, "What do you get if you win?"

"If?" he chuckled.

She smiled, "What if I win? I'm very competitive."

"I would prefer you work in a different section." Damian spoke, "What do you want?"

'Pfft. That's all he wants? Me out of his way? I'm not telling him I'm leaving to a different section in two month; he can suffer.'

"I want you to take me to the Wayne Gala." Marinette announced.

'I knew it! She is just like all those other girls.'

"And before you start flattering yourself, " Mari spoke, "I want a way in, to promote my own fashion line. Being with you helps."

"so you are using me as a business tool." he stated.

"Isn't that what every woman who dates your father does?" Marinette asked, "Promote their next ballet recital, movie premiere, Broadway show, or modeling catalog? I figured you Waynes were use to it."

"He dated those woman." Damian spoke, embarrassed by his father's background of woman.

"Oh." Marinette whispered, "Well, I'm not asking to date you. How about an invite then? You won't even have to talk to me, if you don't want to. Let alone e stuck with me for the entire night."

"Agreed." Damian smiled.

Damian sighed in frustration. Marinette had won their bet and certainly was using the gala to her advantage. He never expected her to come so dressed up. Being in the office was one thing, but seeing her in a gown was another. He couldn't take his eyes off of her. She was a social butterfly, much like his father. She spoke to everyone without a worry. It became a bigger problem when other guys kept offering her a drink. It seemed like the whole gala had their eyes on her.

Damian growled and made his way over to the middle of the crowd. He put his arm around her waist, immediately gaining her attention.

"Marinette." Damian spoke, "I have been looking for you.

"Mr. Wayne." Marinette answered back.

He smirked, "It is after hours."

Mari gulped, "D-Damian."

Marinette looked away, but he could see the faint blush on her cheeks. Damian smiled at her reaction. Several guys took note that the Ice Prince was smiling at the designer and quickly made their way to another side of the room.

"My stepmother wanted to see your latest creation, I believe." Damian declared.

"Oh?" Marinette questioned.

Damian kept his arm at her waist and guided her through the crowd.

"Are you ok?" he whispered.

"Yes." she whispered back, "Were you just trying to get me awy because if so, I didn’t need your help."

'I was trying to help!'

By her pout, he could tell she was upset.

'I don't know why she would want to be with those idiots anyways.'

"Thank you again, Marinette, for making my dress." Selina spoke, seeing her.

"Of course." Mari smiled, "I enjoy making your outfits."

Damian remained silent, realizing that Marinette already was acquainted with his step-mother and likely her friends.

"How was the mob?" Selina asked, taking a sip of champagne.

Marinette shrugged, "A few customers, but other than that, a few trying for a good time."

Selina watched out of the corner of her eye as Damian gripped his glass a bit too hard. She smirked.

"You should take one of them up on their offer." she suggested.

"I should?" Marinette asked confused.

Selina looked over to the mob, ignoring Damian's glare.

"The hell she should." The Wayne heir growled.

"Marinette is a single, desirable young woman, Damian." Selina answered back, "She has needs as well."

Mari looked down at the floor, blushing red.

'I certainly wasn't expecting my sex life to be somehting my bosses' family talked about. I wonder what made Selina change her mind. Before, she was telling me never to leave with someone from one of these things.'

Before Marinette could ask, Damian grabbed her and pulled her out towards the garden.

Selina smirked as she watched them walk away.

'Now, where's Bruce? He owes me $100.'

Selina spotted Tim and made her way towards him.

"Do you know were Bruce is?" she asked.

"Uh, I think he stepped out for a breath of fresh air." Tim answered, "Why?"

'So he already got bored and left to roam. Did he really think no one will notice him gone?'

She sighed, "Tell him he owes me $100."

"Wait!" Tim exclaimed, "What?"

"Yeah. We had a bet." Selina replied.

"Hold up! Is this about getting Damian a date?" he questioned.

"Yep." she spoke.

"Dammit!" Tim whined.

"Why are you upset?" Selina asked, "Do you not want him to be happy?"

Tim pulled out his wallet and handed her $100.

"He asked you to pay me?" she rebutted.

"No." he pouted, "He made another bet with me that you would succeed. I thought you wouldn't."

Selina laughed and took the money.

"Who did you set him up with?" Tim asked out of curiosity.

"The designer." she smiled, "He seemed really upset with her getting attention. I told her she should take advantage of the cesspool and go home with one of the. Your brother grabbed her hand and took her outside after that. Thanks, Tim."

Tim watched in shock as she walked away. He had no idea his younger brother had a crush on their new designer.

'Didn't expect him to be the possessive type. Scratch that, Talia waltz in here like she owns Wayne Manor, all the time, and Bruce still lets her, as long as she behaves. Looks like Bruce, but has Talia's attitude. I need to stop making bets with Bruce.'

TAGLIST: @maribat-calendar-events @animeweebgirl@a-star-with-a-human-name@meme991001@vixen-uchiha@abrx2002@alysrose-starchild@fandom-trapped-03@dood-space@moonlightstar64@saltymiraculer@marveldcedits20@09shell-sea09@icerosecrystal@animegirlweeb@insane-fangirl-of-everything@blueblossombliss@nickristus-dreamer@megawhitleycalderonpaganus@missmadwoman@meira-3919@princessdaisysolosyourfaves@blep-23@fangirlingfanatic@darkhinauniverse@ravenr22@im-a-satanic-ritual@ravennm84@bianca-hooks123@a-slytherinish-gryffindor@starling218

#daminette december 2023 #daminette #damian wayne #marinette dupain cheng #bet #damian x marinette #marinette x damian #wayne gala #marinette is popular #jealous damian #selina kyle #bruce wayne #tim drake #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #mochinek0

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fox-bright · 4 months

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Requisite Yearly We Do Not Buy from Baker Creek post

It's seed catalog time! One of my favorite times of year, honestly. While my garden mostly sleeps, full of dry leaves and fluffed-up birds and cold breezes, I'm indoors contemplating tomato varieties and telling myself that *this* will at last be the year I get the peas in on time.

As it is that appointed time, my usual yearly reminder: don't buy from Baker Creek!

Baker Creek are racist, fascist assholes! They intended to platform Cliven Bundy at their yearly conference, and Native seedkeepers have said that Baker Creek stole from them (and sell the product of that theft). They did a For Ukraine fundraiser that actually went to a far-right Ukrainian organization invested in obliterating LGBT rights.

Baker Creek might have some fun varieties of seed, but I can very nearly guarantee that if you see something there you want, I can find it or an analogue for you somewhere else.

Here's a selection of seed companies I personally have bought from, or people I trust have recommended; there will be a secondary and possibly tertiary reblog, since Tumblr only allows me to do ten links at once. If there's a company you've bought from and liked, please leave a review for them in the comments! What did you get, what did you like, how was the germination? Native Seed Companies: (please, please feel free to add more in comments to this post)

Companies Specializing in Native Pollinator Plants and Seed:

New to me last year, but HIGHLY RECOMMENDED seed preservation company (they have an incredible selection! My 2023 germination of their seed was like 98%! But they only accept paper order forms):

Cool weird nightshades, I got a bunch of dwarf tomato seeds from them last year and THEY didn't suffer from peppergate because they're a small company that does a lot of their own seed:

A list of ten more companies or so, which I buy from every year, will follow in a reblog in about two minutes; please share that one instead of this one.

#fox grows #fox gardens #gardening #baker creek #seed companies

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forthechubbies · 1 year

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Mommy Virgin

Hybrid!Alpha!Babydaddy!Ceo! JJK X Pregnant Chubby! Reader

Chapter 1

Christmas Dreams

Plant many and be fruitful

An idiotic quote your family stands by religiously-For generations, Big families run in our genes..and it always come up boys. Traditionally, Our family has a record for birthing only boys.

However, The winds of a change blew on a beautiful Saturday daybreak, welcoming a baby girl to the world. Maybe 'Welcomed' is far-fetched-

"That girl is going to be the end of our family." Our father exclaimed to your mother, already doubled over with grief-" Ever man, we set her up with her declares! My patients is suffering!" He huffed.

"Her innocence is our misery. She refuses them every time." Your mother added. "She will kill our bloodline at this rate."

Your father could do nothing but hold his weeping wife.

And where are you? On the steps, listening to every painful insult after the next. You didn't mean to be the way you are-it's just men-You couldn't finally grasp the appeal of men. Never as a teenage girl and never now.

Every 'Gentleman' your parents shove in your face always leads to the same demands. Barefooted and pregnant. In other words, not your cup of tea.

So you hatched a plan over three years, causing influential events to take place—'Influential' to your parents, An mirage to yourself.

The story goes, you met a handsome mystery man who swept you off your feet and demanded you stay in his care, getting you out of your parent's hair. In reality, You were the handsome stranger, secretly saved up and moved out.

You hated lying to your parents but detested how they treated you more.

Your scheme forced you to keep the image of this handsome stranger. Why can't we come to the wedding? Your 'fiance' values privacy, including pictures. Why can't we visit? He's a horrible germaphobe.

The list is endless.

Despite how solid your lie was, It all went to ruin following your parent's desire to be grandparents. The obsessive behavior continued for several days straight until the pressure became too much.

"I'm pregnant!" A foolish outburst you immediately regretted as it slipped past your lips. " We wanted it to be a surprise-"

The cheers blazed through your phone's speakers; your face formed a painfully cringe.

What have you done?

You've successfully given yourself a time limit for a decision of paramount importance, something that needs preparation and stable funds.

But yet Your shoes imprinted the carpet in the waiting area office, A sperm bank. You were given a catalog of...donaters; you shivered at the creeper gentleman pictures- you flipped through page after page by no one suited you.

Your heels clicked as your arrived at the front desk, waiting patiently for service before another catalog on the shelf caught your eye.

Trading this for that, You sat back down and explored the new faces. The book revolves around the Eastern hemisphere showing you the prettiest men to grace this green earth.

Chu Buyeon, A long haired military man.

His medical health is fantastic, and his face-he's gorgeous. Maybe him? Yes, his perfect. Somewhat satisfied, You stood to quickly- Shoot!

The thick catalog's binger finally gave way after decades of service, scattering the papers about the ghostly waiting room.

You weren't pleased until every paper was accounted for- Now that, that nightmare is over...

Crunch!

Oops, You missed one.

The paper limped in poor condition thanks to your carelessness. "Shoot!..Excuse me I- step on one of ..the..Jeon Jungkook."

You froze mid-confession to seize the moment to read his information. This? Mr. Jeon was the picture of health as well as looks to boot. Saying any gentleman in this book is just handsome should be seen as a federal offense..

"This is hard." You exhaled.

"You can take the book home-" An uninvited voice startled you off your feet, yet she continued unphased. " The most important decisions take time."

I bet she got that out of a fortune cookie. Ember, The one of the head nurses. Remember her; She actually plays a big role in this story.

Despite the generic quote, You took the odd nurse's offer.

..12:45pm..

They're both amazing.

You've been at this for hours on end; your eyes swapped between two pictures until you felt a headache.

Why is this so hard? I can't believe how difficult this is… He has cute eyes but his nose is adorable.

What the poor heroine fails to realize is the work of crafting a baby, especially without meeting the daddies men. In all honesty, both men were way out of your league; you couldn't physically imagine having a relationship, let alone bearing one's child.

Perhaps it's time for bed. You unwhined for bed, taking a small cup of hot chocolate to your room, not before getting distracted by your darling Christmas tree; this is your first Christmas on your own, and honesty, you loved it.

Despite your current problem, You watched the snow tuck outside in a soft white blanket-You loved the view so much you settled in the living room in a handmade fort with hours of kdramas for entertainment.

Thirty minutes in, Your blinks began lengthier each time until they closed.

A chilly breeze brushed through your clothes. You could have sworn you closed that window instead of your warm living. Your eyes fell on dry grass.

"Huh!?" Now, On your toes. I mean, high heels? You were in business attire...breath! Inhale and exhale...

Where am I? A field...looks like. Okay okay..What do you see? Grass..River...Man? Man! He can help me.

"Hi?...Hey..Hello..I seemed to be lost-"

"Yah!" A gentleman from behind you roared. "What are you doing !? You're in the dead zone! Run towards me!" The man was bolting straight ahead towards clueless you.

Deadzone? And I Haven't run since middle school.

A loud bam from the right knocked you off your feet. Your so-called Savior fired at you and is re-aiming to a clean shot.

The next thing you know, your nose is shoved against sweaty yet sweet-smelling skin. No longer on your own two feet, you were cradled like a newborn, gripping your actual savior's ivory shirt.

You squeezed his bulky shoulders. "There's two now!"

"Fuck! I forgot my gun at camp." Another bam blasted from behind him. This time grazing his side your realize he did it on purpose...It would have hit you.

" Are you okay?!!" You got a groan as a answer, but his strong arms stayed stable until you reached the other side. The gunshots creased after crossing a certain point.

Sticky strains of his hair stuck to his forehead. Your breathing heavier than he is - "You must be cold? Yeah." His breath puffed in the mind-numbing air. "Excuse me." You were shortly forced into his arms for security. "I don't want to drop you." He explained. Yet you didn't find it necessary to be squished against his hard body.

Count to 10-Wait, why?! I don't know anything to take your mind off his...rippling abs.. that I can feel through his shirt..and biceps the size of my skull, not to mention he hasn't put me down since he saved me-Ahem...

You silently agreed and remained silent until "My name is Chu Buyeon, by the way." He chuckled at your shocked expression. "Wa?..Why that face? You're cute."

Your cheeks warmed at his compliment. 5!

"Chu Buyeeeeon! Chuuuuu Buyeonnnnn!" Worried voices erupted through the base set.

"Shit. Im screwed!" He whispered, finally putting you down for the first time. " Stay out of sight," Buyeon commanded, tying back his long black hair in a bun. " I will be right back and-"He's leaving me here-oh, my good god, His back muscles. 4! No, wait, I passed four, right?

"You're bleeding!" Your cute squeak made him grin.

"It's a scrape. I will be fine; I've been shot several times." He threw your worries over his shoulder. "As I said, Stay out of sight, Kitten."

10! 10! He's-I can't

And like that, he disappeared into the camp to return several minutes later with a thick blanket.

"I was worried-!" You gasped, being off the ground once again. Do I even weigh anything?

Buyeon wrapped the blanket around your body before lifting you into his arms. "They saw me. Their right behind me. You got to hide." He exclaimed in short breaths.

You pulled the blanket to at least cover his arms. "What about you?"

"I'm fine. I've trained in worse temperatures." Buyeon stressed, tugging the blanket to cover any revealing skin on you. "You, on the other hand, is a different story entirely." He chuckled.

" Chu Buyeon! Your out past curfew. If you were smart, you would get your ass here, now! " The sergeant, out of all people to get busted by Buyeon, can't catch a break tonight. "Private!Chu! Buyeon! Have you gone berserk, Son?!" His heavy boots demolished the twigs and dirt as he stomped closer. "What's your malfunction !"

Buyeon dips his lips beside your ear. "Play dead." feeling your body instantly go limp, He stands, cradling your body. "An Unconscious civilian was found in the dead zone, Sir! "

"Where's your clothes?" The sergeant's voice changed to that of an anxious father. " It's four degrees out here..Give me her and put on actual clothes." You were snatched away to be tossed over the sergeant's shoulder.

...

Why haven't I woken up yet?

"Why were you out!?"

"I couldn't sleep, so I went for a jog, sir!"

"A jog, Huh? And coincidentally, you were there in the nick o f time..Why were you so close to the dead zone anyway? By Yourself, I may add!" The sergeant delivered a clean swipe upside Buyeon's head. "I only have one son!"

"Ais-" He soothed the sore spot. "She could have died if I didn't help her." Buyeon maneuvered around his father's fearful hands to seek refuge by your side.

He let out a sigh in response. "Just be more careful..at least carry your gun for fucksakes!" His father gazes at another problem, You. "You can wake up, missy. You're not fooling anyone. "

You immediately opened your eyes and sat up, bowing your head. "Im sorry for causing so much trouble."

"I'm happy you're alive to apologize. It's a pleasure meeting you, but round call is in -" He flashed his old wristwatch. "3 hours and 15 minutes...so we all should hit the hay." His father kissed your hand, something Buyeon cringed at. "You will sleep in my office-I will have everything set up."

He also added. "I hope you don't mind me saying, but you are gorgeous...I see why my son can't keep his hands to himself." He took note of Buyeon's arms that managed to snake their way around your body to keep near him.

He was busted for the second time tonight. Buyeon fought for his father to believe the only reason he was keeping you close was to share his body heat.

Despite, The blanket is already solving your cold issue.

Chu Buyeon🥰

#bts smut #bts x chubby reader #chubby reader #poly ot7 #yandere jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook x chubby reader #yandere jungkook #jungkook hybrid smut #jungkook hybrid au #bts ceo au

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wanderpawn · 5 months

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My Dearest Furina

neuvifuri fluff ✧˖°.

word count: 3,085

summary: It's been a quite a few months since Furina has left the Palais Mermonia to live on her own, and her mental health hasn't been the best. But when she receives a letter from her closest friend Neuvillette, she decides it might be time to let her walls down for the person she trusts most.

warnings: tooth rotting fluff, descriptions of mental health medications and intrusive thoughts, they/them pronouns for neuvillette, neuvillette comes out as nonbinary

✧ sfw, fluff, slight hurt/comfort ✧

Furina gazed somberly at the colorful assortment of pills and capsules that speckled the white countertop she stood before. Her knees were weak, and her hands trembled inexplicably as she gripped the sharp edge, tears burning at the backs of her eyes.

The early sun’s rays reflected through the slightly dusty window that faced her on the other side of the counter in her new home. The light gleamed as it passed through the assortment of translucent orange bottles that lay about, the various names written upon them unpronounceable to the average person.

It had been quite a while now, since life had been this way; ever since Furina had lost her archonhood, and she had moved out of the Palais Mermonia, into her own smaller home.

It wasn’t the size of the home that bothered her, though. If she really had to admit it, it was the loneliness that came with it.

The loneliness of not leaving the house.

The loneliness of taking so many medications.

The loneliness of suffering from such awful thoughts.

And of course, the loneliness of being the only one who had to suffer from such curses.

The former Hydro Archon let out a shaky breath, releasing her clenched fists and moving to delicately brush the collection of pills off the kitchen surface and into her other hand. She tilted her head back, forcing the pills into her mouth and taking a sip of water, and then tilting forward, swallowing. Feeling herself gag, she quickly forced down more water, her hands shaking even more than before.

Once she recovered – as she now did twice a day, every day – Furina sank into her kitchen chair, picking up the day’s mail as she wiped her eyes with her free hand.

‘Bills… solicitors… news… catalogs… more bills…’

‘…Wait, what’s this…?’

Furina’s eyes widened as she gave the letter an anxious once-over.

‘I’d recognize that stationary anywhere.’

The ticklish burning sensation of unwarranted panic raced through her veins as she tore the envelope open, pulling out the heavy-weighted, satiny sheet of paper with her perpetually clumsy hands.

My Dearest Furina,

How has life been treating you? It has been quite a number of weeks since the last time we’ve met. It does make me wonder how often you leave your home, and for that I worry significantly.

If you happen to have some extra free time, do feel free to visit the Palais Mermonia whenever you are feeling up to it. I know I, as well as everyone else here, would be delighted to see you again.

I can’t speak for the others, but in my personal opinion, it’s been significantly duller around here without your presence, and I do find myself missing your charisma quite a bit. The halls are rather… empty.

If you can’t make it here in person soon, please at least let me know how you’re doing. As I said before, I worry about you quite a bit.

Most Fondly,

Neuvillette

A drop of water landed on the paper.

Then there was another one.

One after another, dark spots appeared on the smooth, ivory-colored sheet in her grip.

Furina lifted a hand to her face, and felt warm wetness streaking down her cheeks. The paper crinkled slightly in her other hand.

Oh… not again…

‘It seems like Neuvillette really… cares about me…’

He’s just sending me letters to be nice.

‘He’s a really good friend…’

He probably doesn’t miss me at all.

‘I should… go visit him…’

I mean nothing to him.

‘I’m… going to go visit him.’

Furina sat up in her chair. She sniffed loudly, and wiped the remaining tears off her cheeks with her sleeve.

“I’m going to go visit him,” she spoke aloud to herself. Her voice sounded weaker than she remembered.

Furina cleared her throat, and spoke, once again.

“I’m going to go visit Neuvillette.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Furina sat awkwardly in a chair outside Neuvillette’s office. Her back was very straight, her feet flat on the floor, and her perpetually shaky hands rested in her lap as she nervously twirled her fingers.

After a few minutes, she heard a quiet stumble to her right. Her head snapped instinctively towards the sound, only to find Neuvillette resting his hand on the back of the chair she sat in.

“My apologies,” he spoke as he held his head in his other hand, “It seems I’ve lost my balance… again…”

Furina gave him a small smile. “Dummy… you should be using your cane. And not standing up so fast.”

He raised his head to face her and sighed. “Yes yes, I know, but isn’t it I who should be scolding you for not leaving your house for months on end? Let alone, for not coming here to visit me at all–”

“When did you become so needy?” Furina laughed.

Neuvillette frowned. “I am not needy, I’m just worried about you.”

“Yes, and we all needed a reminder of your massive crush on me after these past months of separation.”

The Chief Justice stood up straight once more, turning to walk towards his office.

“I feel as though you wish to continue this privately?”

Furina stood to follow him, her slightly shaky smile widening a tiny bit, as she could just barely make out from walking behind him that the tips of his ears were slightly tinted pink.

“I don’t see why not.”

・・・・・・・

Furina sank down into the soft, plush couch in Neuvillette’s office; a position she had been so familiar with for such a long time, and yet somehow she hadn’t even realized how much she missed it during the recent time she had been on her own. It almost felt… welcoming.

Neuvillette approached the coffee table, the tray of cakes and tea he held in his hands making delicate clinking noises as his hands trembled. Furina thought about how for as long as she had been friends with the Chief Justice, he had been shaky and clumsy. And although no one else was as lucky as she saw herself to be for getting to know this fact about him, she had never understood before why he was this way.

‘Now I understand… I’m the same way….’

Her typically awkward friend carefully placed the tray down on the table in front of her, then sat down on the couch directly across from her, folding his hands in his lap. Although his actions were in character, he seemed significantly more relaxed than had been for quite some time.

Furina smiled at him, and he gave a small smile back.

“So… I suppose we should start off with the basics,” Neuvillette spoke finally, after a few minutes of the pair staring at each other with blank smiles on their faces.

“How have you been, Furina?”

Furina’s smile stiffened slightly, though she maintained it well.

“Good, good…” She twirled her hands in her lap anxiously. “Yes, I’ve been quite alright.”

The Hydro Dragon’s expression softened as he reached for his glass.

“Are you sure?”

The two of them made eye contact as he took a sip of water.

Furina’s gaze danced about the many objects and furniture that decorated the room.

‘She’s anxious…’

Placing the glass on the table once more, Neuvillette had a concerned expression on his face. “You can tell me what’s going on, you know. I still care about you quite a bit, Furina.”

The former Archon shuffled awkwardly in her seat.

‘Should I just tell him what’s going on…?’

Of course not, he doesn’t really care about you.

‘I don’t want to listen to these thoughts anymore…’

Nobody will ever understand you.

‘Maybe… maybe I'd feel better… if I could just talk to someone…’

Furina glanced up, locking eyes with Neuvillette. An expectant, yet worried look contorted his features.

Furina swallowed the lump in her throat.

“I just… my thoughts… they’ve been… torturing me…”

Her eyes flickered out the colorful stained glass window, where the sun’s rays peeked out from behind a couple of slightly gloomy, gray clouds.

“...What do you mean by that?”

“You… probably wouldn’t get it…”

There was a pause.

“I’d like to hear about it anyway.”

Furina’s gaze snapped to meet Neuvillette’s, and the smallest, yet most comforting smile pulled at his lips.

She took a deep breath. “Well… I suppose they won’t… shut up…. They’ve just been so… doubtful… Telling me everything I’ve done wrong… and that people don’t actually like me…. That my friends don’t actually like me… Like you, who I know in my heart would never be mean to me. And yet, the doubt is always there. It never goes away anymore.”

Neuvillette was silent for a moment, with a contemplating expression on his face. He stood slowly, walking over to the large window. He placed his hand against the clean glass, and Furina knew he was watching for signs of rain.

“I’m sorry…” she mumbled, staring at her hands that rested in a knot atop her thighs.

“Do not apologize,” the Chief Justice turned towards his friend once more. He appeared much more somber now than he did when they first sat down together.

“I think I know exactly what you mean.”

Hearing this, Furina’s eyes widened.

Neuvillette made his way back over to the sitting area, however, this time he sat next to Furina, a few safe inches away from her. He faced straight forward, his eyes fixated on something across the room. Furina tilted her head to look up at his face, her own expression softening as she thought about how small the distance was between them at the moment. She was so focused on her friend’s words and proximity that she didn’t even notice her heartbeat quickening slightly.

“When the thoughts begin racing, there is not much one can do to ease their anxiety,” Neuvillette spoke slowly, deliberately. “I have experienced the same phenomenon too many times to count. For me, however, it is more about the undeniable fact that others do not view me as I view myself.”

“Ah… I know you’ve always felt like an outsider in Fontaine… That’s what you’re talking about, right?”

Now it was Neuvillette’s turn to take a deep breath. His posture faulted slightly, his hands resting loosely on his knees. It seemed to Furina as though he was avoiding eye contact.

“Of course, that is always a given… Though I am intentionally describing something I’ve meant to tell you for quite some time now. Because you’re talking about intrusive thoughts, which I also experience, and I want you to know that you are not alone. Which is why I’ll tell you that… I am not as masculine as you might think I am. In fact… I am not a man at all.”

Furina blinked a few times to clear her blurry eyes. When her eyes focused again, Neuvillette seemed to be looking at her through his peripheral vision, their gazes locking.

“Why… did you wait over five hundred years to tell me such an important fact about yourself, Neuvi?” She smiled weakly.

“I was waiting for the right time,” He replied stiffly. “Now, please, let us continue to talk about your intrusive thoughts.”

Furina reached over to take one of his hands in hers; an impulse scarcely acted on between the two of them, despite how often it has been experienced by both parties. Neuvillette’s gaze settled on their locked fingers.

“What pronouns would you prefer I use for you?”

“That’s quite alright, Furina– you don’t need to change the way you speak. I know it’s too inconvenient–”

“Nonsense,” She scooted closer to him. “I want you to be happy with how people see you. And you can start by telling me.”

Neuvillette averted his gaze, his cheeks flushed from the embarrassment of being in the spotlight– even if it was with the person he trusted the most out of anyone.

“Ah– they… they/them… would be nice,” Their grip on her hand tightened, and they used their other hand to shield their nervous face from their friend’s anticipatory eyes.

“Got it,” Furina smiled reassuringly.

Silence filled the room once more as Neuvillette attempted to calm their nerves. Furina took the opportunity to rest her head against their shoulder, which only made them blush more.

“...Are we going to talk about intrusive thoughts again…?” Neuvillette finally spoke as they stared at their intertwined hands, which rested atop the now nonexistent gap between the two of them.

“Hm?” Furina looked up at them, her soft eyes and her gentle smile warming Neuvillette’s heart.

“T-the conversation… about intrusive thoughts…?” They smiled awkwardly back at her.

“Oh! Right,” Furina sat up once more, and the sudden lack of warmth against their shoulder made Neuvillette shiver slightly. “I was so distracted from your confession that I totally forgot about our conversation!” She replied, twirling her hair with her free hand.

“I guess… I just feel so weighed down by all the nagging in my head… it’s always beating me up and making me feel awful about every little thing I do… And it’s gotten a whole lot worse since I started living on my own…”

Neuvillette sighed. “May I offer some words of wisdom? Based on personal experience, of course.”

Furina looked up at them, their eyes meeting once more. She nodded quietly.

Still smiling softly at her, Neuvillette began,

“I believe when a person worries about things excessively for no good reason until it becomes detrimental to their health, it is important to think of the source of the thoughts… When you worry about if you’ve fallen into another pattern of constantly playing a part in your daily life; or maybe wondering whether other people see you as a man, woman, or your ideal neutral self; or even something more trivial, like if you turned the lights off in the kitchen before you left to go shopping; perhaps it can be because it’s what you’ve always done for so long… so long that you get accustomed to it, and then the pattern becomes impossible to break. So it’s almost like every time you start to think about breaking the pattern, you have to commit to becoming an entirely new person. And then, even after you’ve gotten halfway to your goal, it can all come crashing down on you at any moment, and you’ll have to start all over again, from the very beginning.”

They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. But finally, Neuvillette’s blush had grown too obvious, and they turned their head to shield their face with their hand once more, thus breaking eye contact.

As Neuvillette faced the other direction, Furina shifted her position until she was sitting in their lap, with her arms tightly wrapped around them, her head resting on their chest and a content smile on her face.

“Ah… Furina, what are you doing…?” Neuvillette’s hands hovered in the air on either side of her, their face tinted a sweet sanguine shade.

“It’s called cuddling, Neuvi. And you’re supposed to hug me back!”

“Whatever you want is fine with me,” They replied, moving their arms to gently encircle Furina’s slightly smaller frame. One of their hands softly brushed against her ends of her fluffy bob haircut as they pulled her close. Glancing down at her face, which was only inches from their own, they saw her eyes were shut, and she was breathing rhythmically.

“Furina,” Neuvillette whispered. “Are you asleep…?”

The perpetually stressed former Archon stirred slightly, but she remained calm. Then, she drowsily whispered her reply, “You’re so… comforting… Do you know that? You’re my favorite Hydro Dragon…”

Neuvillette’s face had a tint of sadness to it. They empathized greatly with the insurmountable amount of pain Furina must have gone through in the past months, centuries, her entire life– and they really took to heart for the nth time the sorrow of having had to go through it all alone.

They slowly moved a hand towards Furina’s forehead, gently brushing her bangs aside. They couldn’t feel the texture of her skin through their gloves, but Neuvillette could tell her skin was warm and flushed. Leaning forward, they placed a loving kiss to her forehead. Furina wouldn’t remember it, and if you asked Neuvillette about it, they would deny it. But despite the fact that at the time, neither of them completely realized the full extent of their feelings for each other; the words “I love you” remained unspoken in the air that surrounded them, as they both finally felt at peace in the other’s embrace.

Despite their lack of understanding of human emotions, the Hydro Dragon– Furina’s Favorite Hydro Dragon, mind you– had somehow been left with an almost giddy smile on their face. They closed their eyes, muttering one last hope to their dearest friend before they drifted off to sleep.

“I wish for this world to be more gentle on you, my dearest Furina…”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

~ Bonus context/conversation that I couldn’t fit into the story ~

“So, Neuvillette– how did you figure out you were nonbinary~?”

“Ah, um… well… you know how Archons are inherently genderless?”

“Hmm… yes, I think so…”

“Actually… Dragons are much the same. It was only when I gained a human form when I began to be addressed as ‘Monsieur.’ Indeed, it wasn’t my choice, but I just went along with it… Until now, anyway.”

“I see, I see… so you never had a gender in the first place?”

“...Yes, indeed… accompanied by my general lack of understanding of human mannerisms… Well, I never quite understood the whole concept of ‘gender’ at all. Which I think is what led to the piled-up insecurities that drove me to inform you, finally.”

“Hmm… Well, nonetheless, I’m very glad you told me. You can tell me what’s going on, you know. I still care about you quite a bit, Neuvi.”

“Hold on… aren’t those the words I said to you that day?”

“Teehee~!”

“Sigh… It is good to see you acting more playful, though…”

“Only for you, my Most Favorite Hydro Dragon~!”

“How many other Hydro Dragons do you know, anyway?”

“N-none in particular… ehehehe…. But you’re definitely my favorite!”

“You’re… my favorite, too…”

And from that day on, Furina continued to introduce Neuvillette as her “Favorite Hydro Dragon, Neuvillette. For their gender is not Monsieur, nor Madame, but much rather, Hydro Dragon.” (Although they could never stop themselves from getting embarrassed any time Furina mentioned any of that to other people.)

notes: thank you so much for reading ! i hope you enjoyed my little self-indulgent brainrot fic :D

if you want to see the fic on ao3, here's the link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51636109

#neuvifuri #focallette #furina x neuvillette #fanfiction #genshin fanfic #genshin impact #genshin #furina #neuvillette #fontaine #neuvifuri fluff #they/them neuvillette #trans neuvillette #my most dearest kinnies....#they are both me #i really hope you'll get what i'm trying to express here ;;#welcome to the peanut gallery ! 🥜

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historicity-was-already-taken · 3 months

Note

This morning I picked up my paper copy of the New York Times and I was greeted by an extremely graphic article about rape as warfare in Israel/Palestine on the front page. I put the paper down, but it got me thinking about the value of reading about violence. When is reading these testimonies bearing witness to history, and when is it masochism? How do you discern between productive discomfort and unnecessary anguish?

I don't expect you to have the answer to these because they are such immense questions and also things vary from person to person, but I am interested to hear your thoughts on the issue as a historian who is outspoken about the effects of secondhand trauma through genocide research. My degree isn't in history, but I'm an aspiring museum professional (if the job market isn't too cruel, lol. I'm open to other careers but I'm passionate about weaving archival materials into public storytelling so *gestures vaguely*). I also have a really thin skin. I tend to avoid graphic depictions/descriptions of violence, but sometimes I wonder what I'm missing by avoiding that.

Anyway! Feel free to answer this privately, publicly, or not at all if you're swamped with other things. Thank you for running such an informative and interesting blog!

Hi! Sorry this was buried in my inbox.

It's a good question, and I'm not sure how to answer it in regard to contemporary, ongoing events, vs. history. I do think that the 24/7 news cycle has exposed us all to an amount of suffering and stressful information that we're not like...designed to be able to handle.

So I'm going to answer you like a museum professional, and use that shared language. Back in 2009/10 I was a Collections Management Intern at the 9/11 Memorial and Museum. This was before it opened to the public. While I was mostly cataloging, the staff was great about letting us listen on on ongoing higher level conversations.

I'm putting the rest of this under a cut, for reason which will be clear when you read what's under said cut.

Now, two of the (imo) most traumatic aspects of the history of that day, is 1) the photographs and footage of people who jumped from above the impact zones; and 2) the audio from phone calls and voicemails made from inside the planes, inside the towers, etc.

The museum handled those by making them optional. You want to listen to the last thing a woman in an office above the impact zone will say to her child? Ok. You have to make the choice to pick up audio mechanism, and press play. You want to watch footage of people jumping to their deaths to avoid burning to death? You have to make the specific choice to walk into a cordoned off vestibule, and view that material.

If you choose not to listen, or watch, you're not ignoring those histories or refusing to bear witness. You're fully cognizant of the fact that they happened, and you're simply choosing not to expose yourself to traumatic content. Bearing witness doesn't mean traumatizing yourself for the sake of bearing witness, you know?

I think it's enough to know that certain horrific things happened. Going that next step, looking at them, that's not necessary, and can't be rushed. When I was in undergrad I chose to focus on Ancient Near Eastern History as opposed to WW2 and the Holocaust because I know I wasn't ready to look too closely. I wasn't even really ready in grad school. It's really in the last 5/6 years that I've been able to do it. And I still don't think I'll ever be able to engage with detailed material about medical experimentation. But I know it happened. I know it was horrifying, and that's enough.

So, back to news media. I didn't see/read that article, but what I can say is that I appreciate when newspapers decline to put certain kinds of images on the front pages, and give the reader the option to look or not to look. I also appreciate when you're reading articles online, and you have to click multiple times to explicitly consent to view disturbing images.

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miasmaghoul · 5 months

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honestly something i’d absolutely love to see in your style of writing would be mountain and one of the other ghouls having a relaxing day potting plants in the greenhouse :) maybe they’re talking about something deep, maybe they’re exchanging gossip, maybe they’re working in comfortable silence, but whatever it is, they’re having fun, they’re soft and chaste, and they’re so so in love <3

yes uh huh yep absolutely lets go

soft boys below the cut

Dew sways in place, humming a tune to complement the raindrops pattering against the glass walls surrounding him. A springtime sunshower that makes him feel refreshed, makes his skin buzz and his gills flutter. He's tempted to sneak away, just long enough to get his fins damp and his hair frizzy, but it's a fleeting thought.

Dew's tail swishes aimlessly on the ground, stirs up fallen leaves and withered petals. The result of one of Mountain's seasonal repotting days, of hours spent pruning and stripping and checking for root rot. Of lugging around countless pots and sacks of dirt and the putrid fertilizer Mountain swears by. It's lousy work, really. Delicate but backbreaking, especially for a ghoul of smaller stature. Exhausting.

Dew's been here since just after sunup, and there's nowhere else he'd rather be.

It's been hours now, the sun hanging high where it peeks through the rainclouds. He has at least six different kinds of soil caked under his nails and streaked across his face, muddy smears covering both his apron and the garbage pair of jeans he'd yanked on this morning. They're more stain than denim at this point, and Dew wears them exactly four times a year. The little ghoul stretches his arms over his head and relishes the way his spine pops.

He's sore all over, truth be told, but it's a kind of good sore. The kind that comes from manual labor, from hard work and dedication. Dew catalogs the places he'll need to ask Aether to rub later, a little quintessence analgesic that he'll definitely have earned; his shoulders for sure, they're starting to crunch when he rolls them. His fingers too, Dew knows his knuckles will be all swollen up otherwise. Probably his legs and feet as well, but that would be better saved for -

"I'm back."

Dew's ears perk up when a deep voice calls from across the greenhouse, accompanied by the telltale squeal of the heavy glass door. Booted footsteps follow, wet soles squeaking against dirty concrete, and Dew hops off the stool he's been perched on just in time for Mountain to round a nearby pallet of exotic ferns.

"Don't get up on my accout," he chuckles, smoothing wind-mussed hair back between his antlers. Dew can just barely see misty droplets clinging to those auburn strands. "Besides," Mountain adds, holding up a paper bag, "I brought you lunch, and you don't want to eat standing up."

Dew's stomach growls mightily the moment he says it, loud enough that they both look down at it.

"Good timing," he says, poking at his belly. Dew hops back up onto his seat and scoots it closer to the filthy bench he's been working on. "Any longer and I might have started consuming things with no regard for signage."

Mountain laughs, but it's true. Dew hasn't eaten anything since he and Mountain found each other in the kitchen this morning. Even that wasn't much, a couple pieces of toast and a container of some weird coconut yogurt he'd found on the bottom shelf of the fridge.

Dew has these four days memorized at this point - three days before a solstice or three days after an equinox - but Mountain still always seems surprised to see him stroll into the common room in his work boots and crusty jeans. Dew supposes that has something to do with the fact that he usually sleeps until at least noon, but that's neither here nor there.

"Wouldn't recommend that," Mountain rumbles, setting the bag on the table for Dew to pounce on. "Last time Ifrit did that I couldn't keep him off me for a week."

"Woe is you, " Dew laments, collecting his prize. "I'm sure you suffered, what with his huge dick and endless stamina."

"It was a struggle like no other," Mountain deadpans, slipping his apron back over his head. He'd hosed it off before Terzo had called him for an unexpected meeting, and Dew had taken the liberty of pulling the moisture from it while he was gone. Left it in dark stains on the floor below instead. "I smelled like him for two weeks."

Dew snickers, opening up the bag. Pulling out a hefty container that's still warm to the touch and a real fork. There's a drink in there too, a bottle of coffee in Dew’s preferred mocha, and a paper-wrapped fruit pie the size of his hand. He looks up at Mountain with a quirked brow.

"What's all this?" Mountain tips his head while he secures his apron, makes a questioning sound. "You said lunch, I figured I'd have a sandwich or something. This is like," Dew gestures vaguely, "this is a whole thing."

Mountain shrugs, rolls up his sleeves. Dew definitely doesn't stare at his forearms for the second or two it takes to open the container. For the smell of it to hit him - roasted salmon with creamy polenta, along with a small pile of green beans flecked with garlic and lemon zest. His mouth waters immediately, and his stomach gives another loud complaint. Dew grabs his fork and gathers up an oversized bite, and it's halfway to his mouth when Mountain answers.

"I stopped by the mess after my meeting," he explains with a casual shrug. "Got there at the right time, I guess."

Dew freezes mid-bite, looks over at Mountain with his mouth still hanging open. He's in the middle of hauling pots onto his own bench, a cart of miniature rose bushes in the process of being repotted sitting beside it.

"You went to the mess?"

It's a well known fact that Mountain can't stand the parts of the abbey that attract swaths of humanity - it takes real effort to even get him to attend mass - and Dew can't imagine him braving the mess hall on his own. Again, Mountain shrugs.

"It was on the way back from Terzo's office," he offers, collecting a bush from the cart. Setting it on his worktable and brushing a few stray leaves to the ground. "You've been working hard, you deserve real food."

Dew's face goes unbearably warm, but he doesn't argue.

"Thank you," he murmurs instead, soft but genuine.

Honest.

Mountain's tail sways up to pat at his arm in response, the tufted end ticklish against his exposed forearm. Dew finally pops that forkful of food into his mouth, and the taste of it is exquisite. He groans, his eyes fall shut, his shoulders curl, the whole shebang. Surely an overreaction, but in fairness he's really hungry.

"Fuckin' hells, that's good," Dew sighs, popping a green bean into his mouth. "Say what you will about Sister Agata, but that old broad makes damn good food."

Mountain scoffs, shoots him a dramatic, offended look.

"Better than mine?"

Dew snorts, shoveling another mouthful of polenta. He makes a wavy gesture with his hand, a silent ehhh, maybe that Mountain responds to with a shocked gasp. Dew rolls his eyes, flicks his tail at Mountain's calf.

"'Course not," Dew assures him, spearing a bean on each tine of his fork. He gives the other ghoul a wink. "No one burns popcorn like you, Mount."

The end of Mountain’s tail whacks the back of his head, right above the knot he's tied his hair into. Dew waves it off, but makes a happy little sound when that tail settles on his thigh instead.

They fall into comfortable silence, Dew watching Mountain unearth a bush from its home and set it on his table. Munching away while he follows the way Mountain starts gentling its roots apart, spreading them out to better suit the large pot at his feet. No matter how often Dew does this, he can never get enough of seeing the way Mountain gets lost in his element.

If Mountain were anyone else, Dew would've asked where his lunch was, why he was eating alone. But there would be no point; Mountain has a certain philosophy when it comes to food, something that must have come ingrained in his vessel. He believes in only eating what he grows or catches himself - be it fish from the lake and streams, animals from the forest or even the odd, wandering sibling. He wouldn't eat mess hall food if it were the last thing Above.

Plus Dew's pretty sure he can photosynthesize, so there's that too.

Dew polishes off his meal quickly, while he watches flowering vines curl their way up Mountain's antlers. Speckled with tiny pale blue blossoms that Dew knows match his eyes. He's quiet, but his lips are moving like he's speaking to the plant in his hands. Dew imagines him encouraging it, coaxing life back into any fading roots. He's tossing back the last of his coffee by the time Mountain's hoisting the new pot onto the workbench, already lined with rich, black soil that will keep that little rosebush happy for months to come.

"What color will that one be?"

Full and re-energized, Dew slides from his seat and sidles up beside Mountain, observing the way he meticulously shake the old dirt from that mess of roots.

"Pink, supposedly," he mutters, brow gently furrowed. "That's what the label said, at least. Hard to know with these, though. Ivy did a lot of crossbreeding in her younger years. These could be black for all I know."

Mountain settles the little bush into its new home, carefully aerating the new earth with nimble fingers. Dew reaches forward out of habit, helps to redistribute that soft dirt and get those roots covered up nice and snug.

"I hope they're white," Dew chimes in, focused only on the task at hand. "The white ones are my favorite."

"And Zephyr's," Mountain hums, tapping the back of Dew's hand when he's happy with the plant job. Dew pulls back obediently, gives Mountain the space to fluff up its leaves. "Guess we'll just have to wait and see."

"Guess so," Dew sighs, leaning his elbows on the table while Mountain adds a layer of topsoil to the pot. "My turn now?"

"If you'd like," Mountain offers, standing back. "Unless you want to wait until they're all potted first."

"Nah," Dew straightens, cracks his knuckles, "I already walked all the way over here, might as well."

Mountain laughs, a brief but rich sound that Dew treasures every time he hears it. Dew extends his hand, takes a deep breath through his nose and exhales between his fangs. The tips of his fingers tingle, cool in the temperate heat of the greenhouse.

"Soil or leaves?"

"Both," Mountain replies, and with a nod Dew twists his wrist.

This is his favorite part, of course. When it comes time for the watering, for Dew to make himself useful and earn a pat between the horns for his efforts. He holds a flat palm towards the bush and manipulates the moisture hanging around them - in the air, consensed on the glass walls, even the few droplets still clinging Mountain's hair. Channels it all into a fine mist that he's sure to apply to every last leaf and burgeoning bud. Dew hums to himself while he works, cupping his hands once he's happy with his coverage and letting the water fill his palms instead.

"There," he says, pleased, pouring a few modest handfuls into thirtsty soil. "Good enough?"

Dew steps back so Mountain can check his work. He wipes both hands on his apron, smears around the caked on dirt that'll take a chisel to remove by the time the day is done. Mountain rumbles his approval after a moment, and Dew preens from the sound alone.

"Very well done," he lilts, and Dew rolls up onto the balls of his feet just in time to meet Mountain's hand. It rests perfectly between his mother-of-pearl horns, ruffling the loose hairs that have escaped their ties. Dew purrs, Mountain chuckles, and they part once more.

"One down," Dew says, peeking around Mountain at the remaining plants on the cart. "How many to go?"

"Eight," Mountain replies easily, already hoisting the next bush up to work on. "Of these, at least. I think the new guy is almost done racking the orchids, so those will be next."

Mountain looks at him from the corner of his eye, like he's waiting for Dew to complain. To whine about this taking too long, or that it's too boring. The look he gives him every time Dew volunteers to help him with this. Dew gives him a fang-filled smile instead.

"Sounds good," he says easily, striding back to his own work station. "I'm here as long as you want me, big guy."

Mountain chuffs, eyes sparkling. Dew can't believe how much more obvious the gold flecks in his emerald irises stand out on these days. He looks so...whole. Mountain's fingers dance over what will one day be a rose, now just a green bud, and Dew doesn't miss the way his ear flicks.

"Hey, Dew?" His voice carries something deep, something real.

"Yeah?"

There's a long beat of silence, and all Dew can hear are fading raindrops. The sun's getting brighter now, fewer clouds to hide behind. He can see Mountain’s freckles in the warm light, and the streak of copper in his hair. Then,

"I'm...really glad you're here."

Everything around them seems to soften. Dew smiles, unabashed and open, his tail drifting over to tangle with Mountain's just because he can. He huffs our a deeply amused laugh, staring down at his tabletop to hide the way his cheeks flush. Force of habit.

"Nowhere else I'd rather be," he replies, easy as anything, and he really hopes Mountain believes it. "Now gimme something to pot, my fingers are gettin' itchy."

Mountain snorts, shakes his head, but doesn't hesitate to grab another bush and a pot, depositing them on Dew's table. Dew busies himself scooping fresh dirt into the terracotta vessel while Mountain checks the plant for anything that requires pruning.

"This one's even supposed to be white," he says, not missing the way Dew perks up at the words. "Take good care of it, yeah?"

He will, of course. And in a few months, when these plants are hale and hearty and flush with springtime blooms, a bouquet of them will appear in Dew's room. Perfectly trimmed and never wilting, wrapped in silky green ribbon that Dew will save in a secret place behind his sock drawer.

For now, Mountain returns to his own table, and together they work. The silence doesn't last nearly as long this time, broken by Mountain humming a folksy tune that Dew has heard enough times to harmonize with. So he does, the sound bouncing around them and accompanied by the gentle rustle of leaves swaying in a nonexistent breeze. The plants singing with them, Dew thinks. Peaceful.

Soon enough, one of them will speak again. Will break up the monotony with talk of music or recent happenings, or maybe even indulge in a little gossip regarding Terzo's newest summon. He's a hybrid, Dew heard, fire and earth and supposedly just enough quintessence to make him a Problem. Dew wonders if that's what Mountain's meeting was about, but he doesn't ask. Not yet.

For now, all he needs is this.

#miasma's work #the band ghost fic #this is too long to be a ficlet lmao #mountain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #water!dew #how do i tag this idk #im not reading before posting so if you see mistakes #no you didnt

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rhapsodynew · 4 days

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Little-known facts about the cult rock band – part one.

Led Zeppelin – founded in England in 1968, the band was almost doomed to success because its founder, guitarist Jimmy Page, and his buddy, bassist and keyboardist John Paul Jones, were already experienced session musicians. Adding a vocalist Robert Plant and the drummer John Bonham – both young but well versed in their shared local music scene – complemented the band perfectly.

An international sensation of the 1970s, Led Zeppelin remains one of the most successful and legendary bands in rock history, breaking records with their rousing live performances, diverse genre catalog, and refusal to play by the rules. Some of their songs, including the iconic "Stairway to Heaven" and "Whole Lotta Love", became classics of the time and genre.

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However, over the years, the band's touring exploits – in particular, frequent fun with female fans, the destruction of hotel rooms and reckless use of substances and alcohol – have become a cautionary tale about the dark side of rock and fame in general. It may look colorful and interesting, but in fact the career of the Zeppelins was extremely dark and tragic...

Below are some of the most unique and little-known facts.

Robert Plant plays the harmonica

Robert Plant was afraid of the stage – at first

While this may seem shocking, given that Robert Plant is now widely known as one of the most iconic rock frontmen of all time, the lion-maned singer once suffered from self-confidence issues. Plant was still literally a teenager (namely, he was 20 years old) when Led Zeppelin first hit the road in 1968, and the shouts of the crowd, as well as harsh media reviews, were initially unbearable for him...

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At the beginning of their journey, critics were not kind to the Zeppelins, and Plant, being the face and voice of the group, often bore the brunt of their insults. Some accused Robert of affectation, others of "excessive femininity.".. The cruel words deeply hurt Plant, who was already prone to self-doubt.

Later, the group manager Peter Grant admitted that he had to hide bad reviews from Plant in every possible way, and even comfort the anxious vocalist just to bring him on stage. It was for this reason that Robert also hesitated to write lyrics, which is why many considered him the weak link of the group (again, at the initial stages).

John Paul Jones miraculously did not die in the fire.

John Paul Jones

During a tour of America in 1973, Led Zeppelin threw a party in New Orleans, Louisiana. The group stayed at a hotel in the French Quarter, known for its vibrant nightlife... And that night the bass player John Paul Jones will never forget!

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The story goes how John met a certain Stephanie, and invited the girl to his room. The problem came up soon, and it was that Stephanie was actually a man! However, John later claimed that he knew this, and that Stephanie was his good friend, with whom they drank and had fun. In any case, it's not about what gender Stephanie was, and who she was to John. After entering the room, the two had a few drinks and smoked. They were so drunk that they forgot to put out their cigarette butts, and just fell asleep. Soon a fire broke out in the room, and John and his friend miraculously survived – they were found unconscious when the firefighters arrived! It was this incident that Robert Plant immortalized in the song "Royal Orleans".

"Everything is in perfect order on Bourbon Street –You can meet my friends, they hang out there all night long..."

The band was robbed during a US tour.

Led Zeppelin. Early 70s

On July 29, 1973 – the last night of the American tour – Led Zeppelin became the victim of a strange crime. The story goes that tour manager Richard Cole opened the band's safe while at the hotel and found it empty!

"I opened this thing, and there's nothing there–it's empty! Only passports! I burst out swearing because nothing else came to mind at that moment..."

To understand the full range of Cole's emotions, it's worth emphasizing that there were more than $200,000 in the safe– a significant portion of their income from the tour. Not wanting to disturb the band before they went on stage, Cole proceeded to resolve the issue as confidentially as possible. While the Zeppelins were performing, the FBI guys searched the hotel. There were no signs of forced entry on the safe, indicating that whoever stole the money had used the key. Cole was the first to come under suspicion, and he even had to undergo a lie detector test (which, by the way, did not reveal a lie in his words).

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After the show, the FBI also questioned the band members, but found no leads. The next day, the robbery made national news. Although the crime remains unsolved to this day, many believe that Peter Grant is responsible for the theft.

John Bonham struggled with depression.

Despite the fact that he looked brave and fearless on stage, the drummer John Bonham had great difficulties on the road. A family man at heart, Bonham, known to his bandmates as Bonzo, often missed his wife and two young children who stayed in England when he toured. At the beginning of his career with Led Zeppelin, he started drinking a lot to fight his depression and homesickness, which most often led only to chaos...

A friendly and gentle man when sober, Bonham was prone to anger, recklessness and outbursts of rage when intoxicated. He often took out his alcohol-induced rage on hotel rooms and anyone unlucky enough to be near him at the time of his rampage. Over the years, this behavior earned him the nickname "The Beast".

"Bonzo drank because he hated being away from home, it's true. Between performances, it was difficult for him to cope with emotions ...", – said John Paul Jones.

John Bonham

The tour also aggravated Bonzo's mental state. He began to be afraid of flights, and also suffered from constant panic attacks before performing. One day he confessed to a journalist:

"Every year it gets worse for me. I have terribly bad nerves all the time... It's even worse at festivals."

Zeppelin concerts have become dangerous.

As their popularity grew, Led Zeppelin began to give larger-scale concerts, which led to new problems. On July 5, 1971, the band performed in front of a boisterous crowd of about 15,000 people at the stadium Velodromo Vigorelli in Milan, Italy. The promoters begged the band to ask the public to stop lighting the fire, which frontman Robert Plant repeatedly did, but to no avail. The situation escalated, and hundreds of police used tear gas, water cannons and batons to subdue the crowd. Many were injured.

Led Zeppelin

Disoriented by the blinding smoke, panicked onlookers rushed onto the stage, causing the band to drop their gear in the middle of the performance and flee. In the confusion, one of the Zeppelin roadies was hit on the head with a broken bottle and was hospitalized. Page later recalled:

"It was absolutely terrible..."

And this was just the first of many dangerous performances by the Zeppelins. During the band's 1977 American tour, fans without tickets burst through the gates at several concerts, leading to hundreds of arrests. That same year, violent riots broke out in Tampa, Florida, among a crowd of 70,000 when the show was interrupted due to rain, leaving the police outnumbered and powerless. Then, during a concert in Cincinnati, Ohio, a fan fell from an upper floor. It was the last concert in his life...

The extension follows....

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arcane-gold · 1 year

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hi!! if you didn’t know, i’ve got an extensive catalog of prints and i would appreciate it if i could get some eyes on it!!! my etsy has over 800 5-star reviews, and i’m extremely proud of the products i put out. i have over 40 prints and stickers, so i might have somethin to catch your eye!

plus with each order you get one of my shiny business cards!!! these things are so nice that they’re basically a mini gold-plated print haha

i’ve been running my print store for over 2 years, and i’ve put my all into it. these last few months have thrown me so many curveballs in my personal life, and with them my business has suffered. i’m trying really hard to bounce back! any shares would be appreciated!!!

check it out here!! thank you!!

#prints #digital art #tsoa #botw fanart #trigun #idk man i’m strugglin!! got big bills coming up!!! like massive bills that will wipe all of my bank accounts clean!!!#very stressed but i’m doing everything i can to make ends meet!!#my art

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dandylovesturtles · 1 year

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once again writing fanfic for an AU that's not mine

uh hi so I guess it is Crying About Future Donnie Hours except this is actually a different future Donnie than the one everyone else is crying about.

I have wanted to write something for @kathaynesart 's Replica for awhile now and I got an idea and I decided to use @tmntaucompetition as an excuse to write and post it, so I guess you could say this is propaganda I didn't expect it to be the day after my poll though so I kinda scrambled a bit aaaaa lol

Replica is one of my favorite ROTTMNT comics, it's one of the first I found after I watched the movie, and I love it so much. If you haven't read it please do! However, there is one part of the comic in particular (and especially one line in particular) that has stuck with me since I first read it, and I think about it a lot. So consider this my little homage to that part of the comic, and to the character who says it.

Also there is a short section of this that is just dialogue from the comic so obviously all credit for that dialogue goes to Kat!

And Kat I really hope you don't mind me playing around in your sandbox a bit /)_(\

Anyway I don't normally title these but I did give the gdoc for this one the title: The Needed Functions to Appreciate It

I hope you enjoy!

~~~

As an AI, experiencing the apocalypse was different.

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. did not have to feel the aching gnaw of hunger, or the bite of the cold. He did not feel the sting of acid rain on skin, or the seeping of blood from injury. All the physical sensations his family and friends suffered, S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. was spared them all.

That did not mean he didn’t feel.

…

“Hey Dee?”

The “Hm?” he got in response was distracted. Donnie was often distracted those days. S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. didn’t resent him for it. He knew how busy Donnie is - he cataloged and prioritized the to-do list himself, after all.

“I still have the timers Raph asked me to set for his training in the system, and all his old records. What…” He hesitated. “What should I do with them?”

“Oh.” That got Donnie to pause in his work oh so briefly. His finger tapped twice on the enter key without pressing. “You can delete all of that. Might as well free up memory space where we can.”

“Okay.” It was the right answer. Members of the resistance were allowed to set timers and save some personal files on S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s system, and protocol dictated that forty eight hours after loss of vitals, S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. should clear such files.

It had been three hundred and fifty seven hours since Raph flatlined. He should have cleared these ages ago.

“Hey Dee,” he said again, more quietly this time, and Donnie actually looked away from his work and gave him his attention.

He hadn’t had a physical body since a raid over a year before; he was just an artistic representation on the monitor. Donnie promised to make him a new one, but S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. could see both the parts inventory and the to-do list and he doubted he would be able to do that. Usually it didn’t bother him, but he thought that day that it bothered him a little.

“I don’t want to,” he admitted, and Donnie’s face shifted to something more sad.

“Ah. You have developed a lot of sentimentality…” Donnie sighed, not unkindly. “Well, you can keep it. I won’t make you delete it.”

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. bounced around the monitor a moment while he mulled it over. Donnie didn’t look away, though one of his battleshell arms took up the task of typing on his computer.

“Isn’t that not good, though, dude? Like… it’s useless now. It’s just taking up space.”

“Yes… sentimentality and practicality are often in direct conflict.” He leaned back in his chair, eyes roving to the ceiling. “Sometimes we just can’t let things go, even against our better judgment, because they remind us of something or… someone.”

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. zoomed himself in so he filled more of the screen. “Do you get sentimental, Dee?”

Donnie’s lips quirked up in a smile. “Yes, unfortunately so. I find it vexing… though, Mikey would say, “That’s what makes you a person, Donnie, don’t fight it!” or something like that.”

“But if it makes you hold on to useless stuff, or do things that aren’t necessary, isn’t that bad?”

“Ah, such is the nature of emotions, Shelldon - they often lead us to do things that are, for a lack of a better word, suboptimal… Sometimes I think it would be nice to have a switch so I could just turn the pesky things off. I would focus so much better if I never had to feel… anxious or frustrated or… or sad.” He slumped forward, hugging his arms around himself. “If I didn’t have to… to miss anyone.”

“...That’s the worst one,” said S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N., and Donnie nodded.

“Yeah… yeah, it is.” He turned to face S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N., eyes glossy. “But-”

ERROR: Memory file corrupted.

“It is a convincing replica. Expertly crafted. You act just like him… Be careful that it does not interfere with our intended purpose.”

“Need I remind you, one of my core purposes is to act as a support to Donatello’s family. That includes you, even if you have chosen to forego the needed functions to appreciate it.”

“A necessary purge to keep the Kraang’s whispers at bay.”

“Was it? That is not what Donatello ever wished of you. Even when you decided to take on this burden.”

“Not having to ‘feel’ has its… benefits.”

“And Donatello was quite firm that you not lock yourself away-”

“Such advanced artificial intelligence, yet you still fail to recognize your own ignorance.”

“To what, exactly?”

“To the bliss in not having to miss him.”

Username: OMEGABOOTYYYSHAKER9000

Password: ****************

MEMORY FILE ACCESS AUTHORIZED

Enter date: XX/XX/20XX XX:XX

RETRIEVING MEMORY FILE. . . SUCCESS

AUDIOVISUAL PLAYBACK BEGIN

“But even if missing them keeps you from performing optimally… Running from bad emotions means running from the good ones, too.” Donatello sighed. “At least, that’s what Mikey said to me after Papa… And it took me awhile, but I realized he was right. Don’t tell him I said that, though, or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Your secret is safe with me, dude.”

“Thank you, Shelldon.” He reached with his hand and touched the screen, and even though they couldn’t actually feel each other, S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. moved like he was nuzzling his palm. “When you see Raph’s training records, it makes you sad, but also makes you remember all the things you loved about him, right?”

“I guess, yeah… He’d always scratch my head when I came to give him his training report. When I had a body.”

“Mm, so that’s why you always went to do it in person.” Donatello chuckled, rubbing his thumb on the monitor. He was sad, then, thinking that he couldn’t build S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. a proper body. Always lacking the time and materials…

“Is it worth it, though?” asked S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.. “The good feelings, when there’s bad feelings, too?”

“Maybe that’s one of the great mysteries of life, Shelldon. All I know is… I don’t want to give them up. Not anymore. And… it’s easier to deal with, when you’re not alone.” Donatello pulled his hand back, and looked at him very seriously. “Anata wa hitorijanai. That’s as true for you as it is for any of us. Your family will always be here for you, when you miss Raph, or anyone else.”

Maybe it made S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. feel better. He smiled, as much as his facial design would allow.

“Okay. And I’ll always be here for you too, Dee.”

“Thank you, Shelldon.”

“Love ya.”

“I love you too.”

End playback? Y

PLAYBACK ENDED

#dandy fanfiction #rottmnt replica #future donatello #S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N #future donnie #it would be really silly for him to access his memory files that way actually but #I needed a way to clearly delineate the shift in perspective lol #so don't mind me

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rageprufrock · 7 months

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Sneak Peak: Untitled Mysterious Lotus Casebook Fan Fic Because I Make Bad Decisions And Don't Sleep Enough

Instead of sleeping last week, I watched Mysterious Lotus Casebook. And instead of sleeping next week, I expect I will be working on this Mysterious Lotus Casebook fan fic.

It takes Li Lianhua almost an hour to claw his way out of his own grave.

It’s another shichen before Li Lianhua manages to drag himself out of the yawning arms of the earth. His legs shake, his arms shake; the air that expands his lungs hurts going in and breathing out. But no matter how meticulously he catalogs his suffering, each revelation is disquietingly ordinary: he’s thirsty, he’s tired, his body hurts from immobility–from very recent death. He feels staggeringly, unfathomably alive.

Gasping, dizzy with some sizzle of power still shivering out of his bones, he props himself up against his own funeral stele and realizes that he can no longer feel the necrotic, rotting hunger of the Bicha poison, and–when he looks around, across the sweeping mountains, toward the misted pink of dawn–that he had been buried, lavish, in the private family cemetery of Tianji Manor.

When he’d died, when he’d discarded the last of his worries, cut all the vermillion silks and half-formed hopes that had buoyed him, Li Lianhua had given himself to the sea. He remembers the bitter bracing salt of the water, the forgiving lap of frozen waves, how he’d buckled—left, then right knee—the jade colored water closing over him, absolving. He remembers the searing ice of the ocean, the swirl of his worn linen clothes, the weight of his cloak at first suffocating and then nothing, nothing at all.

Now, Li Lianhua takes one step after another through a greener sea, a canopy of late summer leaves, marveling at his robes of emerald silk brocade, embroidered gold with gold and silver threads–flawless on the right and wrong sides of the fabric, as soft as new grass under his fingertips. Now, he listens to the trilling of magpies, spies the velvet ears of half-hidden rabbits, the fleeting russet flanks of swift-moving deer, feels the soft veil of summer light, smells honeysuckle and the petrichor of recent rain.

He crosses a brook, through the forest as it thins to a glade and in the distance now, Li Lianhua can see the curled-up roofs of a home he barely knows, and that is at once as familiar and well-loved as its young master.

“Xiaobao-ah,” he says, the first words he’s said out loud, his voice a startling rasp, rattling out of his chest, “what on earth have you done?”

A little while later, when he’s being thrown ass over elbow into the street by a full phalanx of Tianji Hall’s most ferocious enforcers, Li Lianhua realizes the answer to his question is, ‘plague me in my second life, just as he did the first.’

***

Getting from Tianji Manor to the headquarters of the Bai Chuan Court takes more than a week, a journey funded by strategically pawning off a jade thumb ring he’d acquired sometime between dying at the shore and waking up buried in a fucking mountainside.

Along the way, he buys a set of less ostentatious robes so that people stop trying to rob him like a guileless fop and hears no fewer than two dozen stories–each more absurd than the last, which is frankly astonishing given the truth–of his death and resurrection and death again. At least three of them include morally questionable methods of yang energy application, and a woman who sells him a skewer of tanghulu assures Li Lianhua that a friend of a cousin heard from a reliable source that Li Xianyi had managed his miraculous revival as a result of a profound bond with his martial rival and marital match, Di Feisheng. It leaves him speechless with horror for a full 30 seconds before he implores her to stop spreading the story, because sooner or later Di Feisheng will hear about it and raze her entire village to ashes.

“Now, everyone knows the heroic story of Li Xiangyi’s death and resurrection and death again,” says an old storyteller at an inn the next night.

Around him, the crowd gathered close and eager to hear over the sound of a roaring storm outdoors, the wind and sleeting rain too dire for any more travel that night. Li Lianhua is hiding in a back corner on his second jug of wine, still far too sober for another, ever more fabulist recounting of his so-called adventures.

“But tonight,” the storyteller goes on, “I want to tell another story, one of a legend in the making: a most tragic romance–”

“Thank God,” Li Lianhua murmurs to himself.

“–For while the story of Li Xianyi is well known,” the old man says, “that of his second love with the young master of Tianji Hall is not.”

Li Lianhua chokes on his wine. “What.”

“Now listen as I tell you of a remarkable young man, a brilliant scholar, a refined gentleman, and a generational martial arts talent,” the storyteller invites. “And so passionate in his devotion to Li Xiangyi that he turned down the hand of a princess to wander the jianghu in mourning, as faithful as a widow.”

“What?” Li Lianhua asks again.

By the end of his tale of woe, there’s not a dry eye in the inn and Li Lianhua has progressed through two further jugs of wine, too mortified and then too drunk to go anywhere or do anything about the abject slander he’s hearing.

At no point during any of the cases he’d investigated with Fang Duobing had anybody made any stoic declarations of unwavering devotion during any driving snowstorms, and they were both far too skilled with their weapons for any cutting of sleeves, accidental or otherwise. There had been an extended interlude on how–as they were both dutiful men, and having honorably severed any other previous betrothals–they’d engaged one another in a match of swords that had progressed into a dance of the clouds and rain. It speaks well on the miraculous nature of whatever sorcery had revived him that Li Lianhua does not immediately vomit blood and expire again.

It’s dawn by the time the storm lets up enough for the storyteller’s captive audience to disperse into the city, and Li Lianhua staggers out of the inn a shattered ghost of himself. He hitches a ride with a farmer traveling two cities over, toward the place where where the provincial border is drawn by a fast-moving river, and along the way he reflects that with this additional information, it makes much more sense that all the loyal attendants and members of Tianji Hall had taken one look at him, threatened his life, and violently chased him off property. Nevermind Di Feisheng–He Xiaohui will kill him first for allegedly dishonoring her precious son, and Fang Duobing will be stuck with the tedious work of burying Li Lianhua all over again, which feels churlish given how thoughtfully Xiaobao appears to have done it the first time.

In another life, with the privilege and the right to such sentiments, Li Lianhua would be outraged with anybody at the root of such defamations against his lone disciple. In this one, where Li Lianhua is only–with extraordinary reluctance–willing to admit to another living soul he has any sort of affection or sense of responsibility toward Fan Duobing, it is of course fitting and just that he is the source of said defamations, and will likely suffer untold tortures for his part in sullying Fang Duobing’s reputation.

At the river, he buys passage on a boat and stares out at the steamy gray-green of the fog over the banks, the way that the sun paints the surface of the water a blushing pink. It is, just as he remembers from his final walk to the sea, all so very, very beautiful. He closes his eyes to focus on the susurration of water against the flanks of the boat, to feel the damp wind against his face, the way it blows the loose strands of hair back from his face, how it catches in the rough-spun collar of his hastily purchased robes. He can hear the other passengers telling stories, exchanging gossip, the sound of someone snoring as their journey brings them from the chill of morning into the hot sun of high noon.

A shichen later, the boat is being pulled in toward a little cluster of docks, and Li Lianhua disembarks into the a marketplace transitioning from its daytime of vegetable sellers and grain merchants to its nightly amusements of street food stalls and performers setting up their stages. And by the time it takes for him to navigate the dozen li to the front gates of Bai Chuan Court, it’s nearly full dark, lanterns orange-bright against the midnight blue evening.

Li Lianhua is sweaty, filthy from travel, and ravenous, and it is only the certainty that if he evades the guards and arrives unannounced in the receiving room, someone will think he is a ghost that has him bothering with the heavy brass knocker at all.

When the terrified guards bring him to Ji, Yun, and Bai, they think he’s a ghost anyway.

“Sect Leader Li, I’m sure you can understand that we must investigate your miraculous return. Again,” Shi Shui tells him, at once peerlessly respectful and with absolute disapproval. “Although this certainly contextualizes some recent events in the Capital.”

Li Lianhua smiles ruefully. “I have a theory that useless disciple of mine may have overreached.”

Shi Shui scowls, not at the words or even at the thought of Fan Duobing, but very clearly and directly at Li Lianhua. It’s absolutely terrifying.

“Well, if overreach was what brought you back to us, then Fang-gongzhi’s seven days of fasting at your funeral would have had you here three years ago,” she tells him, matter-of-fact and utterly gutting, before she waves for one of the junior disciples. “Ye’er, send a runner to Fang Manor–I’m sure the investigators and doctors there will need to know of this latest development.”

Li Lianhua tenses. “Doctors? Investigators?”

Shi Shui slants a look toward him, watchful. “According to our network, seven days ago, Fang-gongzhi was grievously injured, and hasn’t regained consciousness since–seven days, that’s when you say you escaped death once more, if I remember correctly?”

“Yes,” Lianhua croaks, remembering all the hundreds and thousands of small and seismic ways that Fang Duobing had tried to save him in their months together, imagining Xiaobao in roughspun mourning, honoring a ghost in a way so intimate and harrowing it shames Li Lianhua to acknowledge it, to know how well he was loved.

“Quite a coincidence,” Shi Shui says, acid, and tells the doctors, “You had better do some painful, invasive testing on him–just to ensure it’s really Sect Leader Li, of course.”

Li Lianhua gets about as far as saying, “Ah–that’s–” before the doctors, clearly reading the room, swarm him armed with bitter medicines, silver needles, and accompanied by a shaman who’d been summoned in a cacophony of shrieking that should have been beneath three of the four hallowed directors of the almighty Bai Chuan Court.

#mysterious lotus casebook #fanfic #wip

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