#quick transmigration

[elaemae]

Me reading a qt novel in wattpad: *Peacefully absorbing the plot*

Random commenter: *Calls the MC selfish for bullying the ML even though she's just trying to follow the plot and die at her destined time to go back to her real mother.*

Me:😊💢

Also random commenter: *Criticizes the MC for mourning and feeling bad for the ML's bullies even though she actually got closer to them over the years because she's pretending to be one of the villains.*

Me: Let's see you mingle and be friendly to people for years just to be a bystander as they die or get exiled!😊😊😊 Even if those bullies were bad people, its human nature to unconsciously open their hearts to people who were amicable and nice to them for years even if its wrong!! MC wasn't defending them, trying to save them, or making excuses for their actions, she's mourning for them!

Also-also random commenters: *Cursing and getting angry at MC for not respecting the mom of her original body even though said mom had a mother and daughter sold to a brothel because of a piece of bread that they stole because the mom abuses the servants and doesn't feed them.*

Me: Right. Sure. FINE. Mc is wrong for not being a righteous robot.

Guess she should fight against her fate with all her might and save everyone and everything with the power of sunshines and rainbows.

[devildom-dedicated-daydreams]

An Unlikely Backer (Mammon x Reader) Chapter 4

Previous Chapter: Today I'm a Cute French Maid

Full arc title: The Unfavored Daughter Chooses an Unlikely Backer (link to arc masterlist here)

Chapter title: The Best Things in Life are Free, the Second Best Things…

Word count: 1.6K

Pairing: Mammon x FMC, Mammon x F!Reader

MAMMON

The duchy was falling apart. The mines had been stripped of every piece of gold and diamond they could offer and Mammon was now feeding his people from his own pocket. Sure the royal family would give a hefty award for winning the war but he had hundreds of people living in the dukedom, he had a lot of mouths to feed and he needed a separate award for the men who accompanied him to battle. The royal sum won’t last them long.

“You keep sighing.” It was his former nanny and current head maid, Everleigh. She brought him a pot of tea. He really didn’t like tea, but it wasn’t like they could afford wine or hot chocolate anymore. He technically could, but then what would the people eat?

“Leigh, what should I do? I suck at writing letters.” He had crumpled at least a dozen pieces of paper trying to find a way to ask for a loan from Viscount Leopold. 

“Take a break, Your Grace, you haven’t rested since you arrived yesterday.”

Unable to resist temptation, he snuck out for a drink at Ammencera Promenade without his men to clear his head. But of course, they caught him.

With another sigh, he gave up. “I think I will take a break.”

Leigh grinned before bowing and living his study.

He finished every drop of the warm tea before retiring to his bedroom.

The next morning he woke up earlier than the break of dawn, slipped into plain-looking trousers and the dirty white shirt he wore when he sparred with the knights, and escaped back to Ammencera Promenade. Everleigh didn’t like him going there, not because it was the so-called “land of the peasants,” but because she didn’t want him getting caught and ostracized even more by the other nobles.

He didn’t care what the other nobles thought about him though.

He passed by several decrepit buildings and a bunch of construction workers and glassware makers laughing.

“They look awfully cheery for men who are awake this early in the morning,” Mammon said as he met with Richard, the elderly toymaker he met with last night before getting his drink. 

“I hear business is booming.”

“Huh.” Mammon shrugged. “Ya got what I asked?”

Richard chuckled. “Ten dolls and ten soldiers, just like you commissioned.”

Mammon beamed and gave him his payment before taking the sack of toys from his old friend. “Thanks, Richard. I may need to come back again so do your best to stay alive.”

“Ha! Never gets old.”

Mammon hurried to the orphanage, where Winnet stood holding her own sack. “Finally! I thought I was going to freeze to death.”

“Why didn’t you wait inside?”

“I was worried you’d get lost with all this fresh snow.”

“I’m not that stupid.”

“I really doubt it.”

“Where are the wonder twins?”

“At home, exhausted.” Minette grinned. “They had a rush order and they found their new ‘muse.’”

“Really?” That was a first. 

“Well, come on, the kids are waiting.”

***

YOU

You were in the library when Lyrra informed you that your purchases have been delivered to the estate. 

“Send them to my room.” Without looking away from your book, you tossed her a coin, which she shakingly caught with both hands. 

“Yes, milady!”

“And be sure to call me when lunch is prepared.”

“Of course.”

The system watched the maid skip away with glee before dinging. [Won’t the family be mad about the giant hole you left in their pocket?]

You chuckled. “I’m counting on it.”

Lo and behold, your father was fuming when he caught you walking into the dining hall for lunch.

You ignored his and your stepmother’s glares as you made your way to your seat. No one spoke a word while the servants brought the meal. No one moved even when the last plate was set down.

Shrugging to yourself, you picked up your spoon to try the soup–the head of the house coughed loudly, an act that even a young child of any nobleman would deem inappropriate and rude.

You didn’t flinch, of course, in fact, you haven’t acknowledged his presence since you entered. The man has ignored this body 90 percent of the time. 

Smiling tenderly, you proceeded to eat first.

That set him off. “You dare eat!”

You set down the spoon and dabbed your chin with your napkin before making eye contact. He was a sour-looking man, with graying hair and a nasty set of distracting yellowing teeth. 

You offered a small but loose. "It is lunch time, is it not? You all seemed unwilling to eat so I went ahead and took the first bite to show you that the food isn't poisoned."

Your father turned pink so his loving wife stepped in, grinning forcefully at you. "I hear you went out shopping."

Your sisters lit up at the mention of the merchandise delivered at the door. 

"I saw everything. I didn't even recognize any of the branding," commented Deneve. 

“So many things and yet so little taste,” added Alma. “That reminds me you’re wearing an interesting ensemble today, sister.”

“Yes, the redness of your lips is so lovely. You look worthy enough to be married to Marquess Whitlock.”

Marquess Whitlock was an old man notorious for sleeping around with the so-called ladies of the night.

The two girls burst into a fit of muffled giggling, content with their wittiness.

“Now, girls, be nice to your sister. It’s your job to guide her during times like this.” Your stepmother was definitely smirking behind that veneer of pity and sympathy she showed you.

You merely hummed. “I don’t blame you for not noticing the brand names, after all, the Queen was the one who suggested them. She also complimented the glow of my face when I visited her the other day.”

The girls froze and a silence befell the room. To insult the Queen’s taste, the opinion of anybody from the royal family, was a major faux pas akin to social suicide. There was an old legend about a king from long ago who went to war and came home with a woman with origins unknown. Not much was known about her aside from her love of flowers. During a tea party, one of the guests innocently inquired why she wore a floral dress, as the pattern was commonly associated with little girls. The king cut the person’s tongue and florals bombarded the market for years.

Even if the majority found it over-the-top, no one would ever talk badly about how you previously donned the violet of the royal family or how your former fiance insisted on wearing flashy suits. (Not where it could be heard, anyway.)

“Nonetheless, even you have spent way more than necessary,” your father said. 

Before you could open your mouth, your stepbrother, Bardrich, defended you, “Father, Alma and Deneve have spent more on fur coats and hats this season, I’m sure a few more won’t be too bad.”

You narrowed your eyes but quickly smiled at him. 

Bardrich wasn’t horrible to look at. In fact, he was one of the female lead’s many admirers who made several appearances in the webcomic. They first met with her in a tree and she yelled at him for saying it was unladylike. He ate up the “not like other girls” act like grapes. 

However, your body had no memories of this man outside of being just one of the members of your distant family, so it was a big shock for him to defend you like this.

“I beg your pardon, my lord, my ladyship.” The butler arrived holding a silver tray with a single letter.

You knew exactly what it was–

“It’s a royal invitation to the celebratory ball.”

The mood in the dining hall lightened instantly as everyone discussed what to wear and who to expect.

You quietly finished your lunch before excusing yourself to your room, leaving the family to their own. 

[My Host, your ability to lie while smiling sweetly continues to impress me. Now please explain just what you’re going to do when everyone arrives at the ball and sees that Queen is wearing the same unflattering makeup!]

“No need to yell.” You picked up the boxes that didn’t have the Winfred’s logo. You unwrapped a wooden box freshly varnished and beautifully inlaid with rose flowers. You then went to find the other boxes that didn’t contain clothes or accessories. After finding the different glass vials, you opened the Witches’ Cauldron Chem Set and made a facial cleanser kit, then you made a hypoallergenic powder, a blush, and a lipstick, each one contained in ornate, professionally carved glass and metal containers. You had to thank Winnet for introducing you to such talented craftsmen.

You then wrote her a letter which included the usual greetings and polite chitchat in addition to your instructions: “Please avoid using your usual makeup during these three weeks as they will interfere with the treatment. If you must paint your face, please use the ones I have included in the box.”

When everybody was asleep, you rang for Lyrra. You handed her a delicately wrapped box and the sealed letter. 

You slipped her a pouch of gold coins. “This must be sent ASAP, and no one else but you and the delivery man is to know about it, understand?”

She nodded, arms heavy with your gifts to Her Majesty and her salary.

“Oh, and before you go.” You threw her something. “Consider this a reward for your good job.”

Lyrra drooled at the diamond bracelet between her fingertips. “I’ll continue to serve you faithfully!”

“I’m sure you will.”

[phoenixtakaramono]

The Name of the Game - Ch 1 AO3 Publish Date Announcement

Since Gen V is airing on 9/29, this is a notice that chapter 1 of my 135ch QT will be posted to AO3 anytime after between 9/30-10/1. I'm currently editing the last action scene of TNotG ch1 but we're looking at approximately between 60+ to 70+ pages for the prologue itself.

Keep a lookout for it in the "Billy Butcher/The Homelander | John" tag! \(￣︶￣*\)) I'll also post here on tumblr and tweet a reminder of the official date and time before posting!

*EDIT (10/1/23): It’s up! The AO3 link is up above in the title.

[vodkassassin]

Quick transmigration original story (agent 22) for WIP Wednesday!

@mad-madam-m oooh I’m so glad you’re interested!

—

Alesseo sets his glass down on the table with such a careful hand that it barely makes a sound. He chooses to stare at the clear liquid inside of it, and the vibrations that carry across the surface of that with every small noise of the room, instead of at the other people at the table.

Though, he can feel their stares on him.

He thinks it was a blessing, in fact, that the original Alesseo’s family was not close to him. That they did not care too much for him to interact overly much. Less interaction means they don’t know him as well as they might even pretend to.

As long as he remains politely distant, it won’t be too difficult to build himself a road of points toward resolving one of the original’s major Regrets.

“You’ll be going back to the university, then?” One of the brothers, the second eldest brother, Dantevius, suddenly asks.

Alesseo blinks and raises his gaze up from the cup. He considers the older man for a moment before dipping his head in a simple nod.

“Yes.” He replies.

“It’s too soon.” Mother immediately intercedes. There is a severe expression on her face that makes her look years older than she actually is. “You just got home from the hospital! You need more time to rest and recover.”

“The exams are coming up soon, so I need to prepare.”

“Mm.” Liera’s lips press even thinner, but she has no way to refute that.

After all, it’s not as if the university will reschedule the annual exams just for one student.

No matter what noble family he hails from.

“Recently, I’ve some investigations that bring me around the university sometimes.” Dantevius continues the conversations amiably, a pleasant expression on his face. Although, he also looks somewhat imploring. “I could…”

There’s a brief moment of silence. Glances are exchanged between family members, but none of them quite look at Alesseo. The youngest looks rather awkward, even.

Dantevius coughs to clear his throat. “I was wondering if it wouldn’t be too rude of me to, ah, stop by?”

Alesseo looks at him, confused.

“And… visit?” Dantevius isn’t looking at him. His gaze is a mask of politeness aimed toward the far wall.

Beside him, the eldest son is looking a little bit annoyed now.

“A few times?”

Alesseo isn’t sure how to respond?

“Ahem. Once?”

“Oh.” Alesseo coughs into his fist, eyes returning to his drink. “I don’t think there’s a rule against that.”

There’s another beat of awkward silence. He glances up. Dantevius is staring at him with a rather intense gaze, sharper at the corners than usual.

Oh! It makes sense, actually.

If Dantevius, who is a rather well-known officer of the knights order’s investigation unit, shows up at the university, it would draw a lot of attention. Too much attention would make trying to investigate whatever case he is on that has to do with the university rather difficult.

However…

If Dantevius, who is an older brother of one of the students of the university, dropped by casually to see his younger sibling for a family visit, then it was much more likely he’d be left alone out of politeness. Which would give him easier access to the university, and thus make the investigation go much smoother.

Alesseo nods decisively. Yes, there definitely is a reason that Dantevius Ardizzone was an up-and-coming super star of the Knights Order investigative unit. It wasn’t just because of his looks, he was actually very smart.

“I’m sorry for not inviting you before now.” He says. “I wasn’t aware that you would want to come. But, I wouldn’t mind if you visited, big brother. Whenever you want.”

Assured that he’s made the correct decision, Alesseo mentally pats himself on the back and finally digs into his meal.

He’s too busy eating to notice the contemplative frown that has made its way onto Dantevius’ face.

[bafflinghaze]

在狗血文里做老师[快穿]

作者：岩城太瘦生

Becoming a Teacher in Dog-Blood Novels

Zhu Qingchen, who tragically passed away at 20 and was posthumously named “Prince’s Tutor,” was chosen by the system as a “good teacher” to complete various tasks—each in a different dog-blooded novel. Zhu Qingchen: Is the “Prince’s Tutor” title just for show? System: No way! Absolutely not! In the ancient world, the protagonist was a brilliant scholar who studied hard for ten years, only to be taken advantage of by a scumbag the night before his imperial exam. The next day, sick with a fever, he collapsed before the emperor and was exiled to the frontier for a decade. Afterward, the scumbag tried to rope him into rebellion, eventually making himself emperor and trapping the scholar in the palace as his queen. Zhu Qingchen: Wait, what? Waking up with a “whoosh”, Zhu sharpened his knife all night at the door, ready to protect his top scholar. [No one messes with my star student!] In the modern world, the protagonist ranked last in his class for three years but turned it around to place first right before the college entrance exam. However, the scumbag ripped up his admission ticket the night before, causing him to miss the exam. He finally entered the New Western School, where he was humiliated by the scumbag’s arrogant boss during a school celebration. Zhu Qingchen: What the hell? Zhu “swooshed” on his little electric donkey, escorting the protagonist to the exam hall. I testify! This is my student; let him go in to take the exam first, and then come out to make up his identity certificate! [He doesn’t need an admission ticket; he can take the exam first and worry about paperwork later!] In the ABO world, the protagonist was a beta with average abilities, but his grades were good enough for the best university in the empire. The scumbag concealed his scores, locked him in a room, and prevented him from attending university, turning him into a canary and forcing him to bear three children. He even made him wear women’s clothing to an imperial banquet, where the protagonist’s identity was exposed, humiliating him in front of the imperial marshal. Zhu Qingchen: Excuse me, what?! He broke into the room with a “swoosh”, rescuing the protagonist from the nightmare. To make matters even better, the imperial leaders intervened and took action. The imposing imperial marshal announced in front of the cameras, “Anyone who dares to steal talent from the empire is an enemy of the world.” Zhu Qingchen, who was on standby, showed a brilliant smile with eight big white teeth and gave a thumbs-up. “Well said!”

Raws: https://www.jjwxc.net/onebook.php?novelid=7828564

Translation: https://www.novelupdates.com/series/becoming-a-teacher-in-dog-blood-novels/ (in progress)

Shou MC: Zhu Qingchen | Gong ML: Li Yue

Setting: Base setting - ancient China, quick transmigration to ancient China, modern settings, and interstellar settings.

The MC is here to help protagonists kick away scum gongs!

The MC transmigrates into different abusive-romance novels, and becomes the teacher of the OG protagonist shous. With the MC's guidance, the OG protagonists get smarter, stronger, and avoid various pits, and generally become awesome/reach their full potential (e.g. in the imperial examination).

The MC's system is actually super cute here, doing things like using its screen to fan the MC 🤣🤣🤣

As for the ML....he's such a romantic for the MC. His assistance and generally clinginess becomes a lot more blatant as the worlds progress, very sweet.

I recommend this novel to those who want to see scum gongs put in jail 😆

[atlasreading]

Book #1: I Really Am a Slag Shou! Book Review

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

"I Really Am a Slag Shou!" by 你的荣光

Rating: ★★★★☆

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

Spoiler-Free Review:

I was satisfied by the ending, the main couple, and even the side couple, but it didn’t give me as much excitement as I wished it did. There are some features and moments that are weird, and the book didn’t make me feel hollow when I finished it—like how my 5 star-rated books do.

If you are looking for more romance than serious world-buildt fantasy and love having many different couple tropes, than I recommend it!

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

Full Review + My Extended Thoughts:

This part of the review is NOT spoiler free.

"I Really Am a Slag Shou" is about a 20-year-old boy named Chi Zhao, who was killed by a falling flower pot (when I found that out, I admit I did laugh). He was then given a chance to resurrect himself by the Slag Shou System, who told him that if he filled in the role as a "slag shou" (the "bottom" in a gay relationship that is a "slag" or someone who is not a good partner/person) and successfully earned 100 points from a collection of fictional worlds, Chi Zhao would be revived and sent home. Chi Zhao agrees, but he realizes that every protagonist seems to be quite odd.

After reading this, I have to say that Chi Zhao and the ML, Fu Yihe are made for each other. They are both equally crazy for one another, so much so that they would rather hurt themselves or others in order to save the other. Also, they've been together for hundreds of years and have even raised a kid. Truly a cute couple.

I loved the system. He was annoying but also so cute. In one of the extras, we are given a hint of a love triangle between him, the main system, and a rice cooker (No, I am not joking). I kind of wish the system had his own book!

There were some parts that were weird/taboo, which irked me a bit. I'd prefer not to get into it, but it includes weird power dynamics in a few of the fictional worlds.

There was no smut. I personally don't care about that fact, but some of you might do so I included it here.

I liked the end, and I believe it tied off the book quite well. In all of the fictional worlds, Chi Zhao and Fu Fihe end up together, and they all have happy endings. The first world's ending could be debated since Chi Zhao committed suicide when Fu Fihe died of old age.

All in all, it's not a completely serious novel, so if you enjoy more romance than intense lore and world-building in a quick transmigration novel, than I would recommend this novel to you!

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

Remember that this review is my personal opinion, and if you would rate this book higher or lower than I did, it is valid!

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

[danmeinovels]

1. 恶毒妖怪只想种田[快穿]

Vicious Monster Loves Farming [Quick Transmigration]

Title: 恶毒妖怪只田[快穿]

JJ ID: 4872796

Author: 择兰

CP: Jiang Lin (S) x Zong Yu (G)

SJ: Yes. Mingjie. Previous life default biased to clear.

Tofu: None

CF: There are CF who like MC & ML, but they are rejected.

Others:

• Slow burn, way less romance.

• ML is more of a background board.

[lindoesntwin]

BE JEALOUS

A woman transmigrates into different worlds where she faces conniving women and tricky men and has to complete tasks set by a system and the completion of these tasks gives her points which she can spend in the system shop to help her in her tasks or she could save up to go back to her world.

Other titles: My Boyfriend Is the Jealous Type; Quick Transmigration: The Yandere Male Lead Is Jealous Again

[outofcontextwebnovels]

iconic ning shu moment

(quick transmigration cannon fodder's record of counterattacks)

[clairewritesfanfics]

Villain Creation System Chapter 4

Pairing/s: Invincible x Reader x Invincible Variants

CHAPTER 3: When In Doubt, Do Your Research Series Masterlist <<read the synopsis and trigger warnings first>>

In the Chinese webnovels you liked to read between classes and study sessions, male leads were given “sword-like eyebrows.” These fan-translated novels never came with pictures, and you were left wondering what they actually looked like. According to the netizens you asked, for brows to be “sword-like” meant they were handsome or ideal. 

Handsome eyebrows.

Oh-kay ? 

You didn’t get it, not until you got to examine Mark Grayson up close. He had thick, handsome, black eyebrows that tapered cleanly to the sides, as though done by a professional makeup artist, but the system told you that this was his face au naturel. 

It was unfair. 

Even his eyelashes were prettier than yours, downcast as he read something on his tablet. He’s been reading quietly since he arrived fifteen minutes ago, slid his pandesal and coffee on the empty space of your table, folded his leather jacket on the back of the chair, and took a seat without ceremony. 

You tapped harder on the keyboard. 

“You’re going to destroy your laptop if you don’t lighten up,” he said, not even sparing you a glance.

“I don’t remember inviting you over.”

“My roommate’s being a pain and I needed someplace quiet to study.”

“There’s a library.”

“It’s too quiet.”

“Then go sit somewhere else.”

“But I like doing things while being watched, makes the task more exciting .”

You stopped typing and gave him a look.

“C’mon, I’ve been a good study buddy, haven’t I? No scribbling, no rustling of paper or loud typing–no offense–”

You felt a vein thump at your temple. 

“–and besides,” he purred, bending his elbow over the table and leaning into his palm, “weren’t you enjoying the view just now?”

Blood rushed to your cheeks and you reached for your frappe, taking small sips to cool down.

Were you really that obvious? 

[Yes, you were.]

You ignored the system and replied to Mark, “I was glaring at an unwanted visitor.”

He said nothing but that arrogant smirk told you everything you needed to know. 

Okay, so you were sneaking a few glimpses. Actually, now that you think about it, you were outright gawking for at least a minute. 

You didn’t mean to. It was just that… how could you not look?

Sure, you’ve seen pictures, watched videos of various actors and singers in your reality. Teen heartthrobs and K-pop idols who were considered national treasures were objectively gorgeous men, but looking at a screen is a very different experience from sitting across a living, breathing organism. 

Stray raven locks touched his sword-like brows and framed the chocolatest pair of eyes you’ve ever seen. High cheekbones and sharp jawline. His smirk showed off slightly crooked teeth and a fuller lower lip. He wore a navy blue Henley shirt that hugged him in all the right places–

[You’re staring again, Host.]

Oh, boy.

You cleared your throat and forced your gaze back to your monitor, ignoring Mark’s haughty grin, looking more amused than ever. 

“Admit it, princess, you think I’m hot.”

“Objectively, you have ideal features.” You resumed typing, refusing to meet his eyes. “And don’t call me ‘princess.’”

“So you agree?”

“It would be pointless to say that I don’t.”

“Which part of me is ideal?”

You shrugged, focus wavering from the conversation as you slowly fell into the rhythm of work. Your embarrassment from getting caught vanishes with each tap on the keyboard. “Your face is symmetrical with good bone structure. That’s always been an important factor in determining attractiveness. You’re at a reasonable height with a good build, again, a ubiquitous criterion for determining the visual appeal of males. Surely, you’re familiar with the old cliche: ‘tall, dark and handsome’? You check all the boxes.” 

When you noticed that he wasn’t talking, you finally raised your head.

He was looking at you, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. 

“What now?”

He covered his mouth and turned to the window. “I didn’t expect you to actually answer me.”

“I obviously can’t get rid of you, I can barely focus with you right there. Might as well make small talk while I do less taxing work.”

“I thought you were the type who hates small talk.”

“It’s not something I particularly enjoy, but I can do it to be polite, even when someone can’t take a hint.”

He was silent again. 

An jazz instrumental of Fly Me to the Moon drowned out the sound of your typing. 

He then asked, “Do I really bother you?”

You arched an imperfect brow at him. “Right now you’re not exactly helping me, are you?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I mean, do you really not like me?”

“I don’t hate you, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“... I know.”

“Look.” His hand went to the back of his neck. “I know I’ve been ass to you, but if you really don’t want me here, I’ll leave.”

His perpetual bedroom eyes suddenly looked like the eyes of a kicked dog. Geez, no wonder his exes still liked him. 

You sighed. “It’s fine. You can stay here, just be quiet while I do my work.”

“Before you start, can I ask you something?”

“Not like I can stop you.”

“What exactly are you working on?”

“Annotating handouts,” you lied. “Planning out my weekly schedules, that kind of stuff.”

“Schedules? Like for arranging your dates?”

“I don’t date.”

“I figured.” He turned to his tablet, then back at you. “How come?”

“Never had the time.”

“And if you had the time?”

“I don’t, which renders your question and my answer moot.”

“Are you not into the whole romance stuff?”

You could tell he wanted to ask more than just romance. Regardless, you responded with a “No comment.”

He hummed and then finally returned to his reading. 

[ Ding . Affection: 18%. Darkening: 3%.]

Seriously?

[It would seem that Mark Grayson is very fond of compliments.]

No kidding. He was popular, shouldn’t he be used to this type of stuff right now?

The system could only shrug. 

This thing was capricious in what kind of information it was willing to share. 

Deeming it useless once more, you switched tabs from the campus’ anonymous forums to Amber’s many, many posts. You skimmed her socials before, but with no news about Debbie, Nolan or Mark, she was your only lead. You knew very little about Invincible the animation, much less the comic book. You’ve seen promotional materials in passing. All you can remember is Mark and his dad, his mom (from your blurry recollection, she’s the most beloved character), that pink girl–

Wait.

You massaged your head, thinking.

Yes, a pink suit and long red hair. 

Red hair. 

You searched Amber’s photos. There was one taken during a party this semester. Amber was holding out a peace sign next to a young woman with carrot colored hair and jade green eyes. You missed the picture because Mark wasn’t in it. 

The redhead was tagged Sam E. Wilkins.

[That’s Samantha Eve Wilkins, her superhero identity is Atom Eve. She is an enhanced human with the ability to manipulate matter.]

Judging from the name, I’m assuming she can manipulate matter at an atomic level?

[Subatomic level.] 

That seems a bit OP. 

[Is it?]

Come on, with that ability she can perform simultaneous transmutation, that’s mega OP. Why is she not the main character? Her power is more interesting than just flying and punching stuff.

[Host is so cute.]

The muscles in your jaw ticked.

[In this world, much like in yours, everything comes with a price.]

Enough with the riddles. What are you trying to tell me?

[This system is politely informing you not to deify the people here. Subatomic manipulation is something even a newborn system can do when given enough authorization.]

[<(˘ ˘ ˘)>]

Annoyed, you changed the topic. 

What is her importance to the plot?

[She is a supporting character.]

To what degree?

[In the main timeline, she is Mark Grayson’s wife.]

You blinked once.

Twice.

WHAT?

To be honest you were surprised that the system gave you that information. 

[I received authorization to share that tiny detail with you.]

“Tiny”? Tiny! 

Your eye twitched as you scrutinized Samantha’s photo. 

There’s nothing tiny about Mark Grayson having someone who was literally made for him. You even gave me that ridiculous affection meter, but what can I do against destiny?

[Host, the fact that you managed to even raise the meter is proof enough that you can do it.]

So what? Even if I get that to a 100%, that won’t stop him from falling for her eventually.

[Host–]

This is insane!

This was too much. Some part of you, deep inside your subconscious probably thought that this was just one nasty dream. One long, vivid, goofy dream. But one picture–one ridiculous line about soulmates broke through that part of you.

This was wrong.

This wasn’t fair.

You slammed your hands on the table, knocking your frappe to the floor.

Mark glanced up from his tablet. Concern flashed his face as his arm moved towards you–

[ Ding .]

You were floating. Mark, the cafe–everything was gone. You were submerged in neverending darkness. Not even the tiniest flicker of light was to be seen. You couldn’t hear anything, not until the system spoke to you directly.

[Host, have you calmed down yet?]

“What is this place?”

[This is Nothing. This is your fate if you fail to convert Mark Grayson. Perpetual nothingness. You can scream and cry and pray until you get bored of your own noise and still, no one will hear you. No one will come. You will be left in this Void all alone until the end of time.]

This was your future? This was your afterlife?

[I took you here to remind you of your goal. It matters not who or what is in your way, you must overcome them, use them to your benefit.]

“Why!? Why does it have to be me? Why couldn’t you just let me go to Heaven or reincarnate? I didn’t want this! I’m not cut out for this!”

[You may protest to your heart’s content, but there is no running away from this. You must continue forward regardless of the cost. There is no undoing what has been done. You agreed to our terms–

“You forced me!”

The system shut up.

“You forced me…” You repeated.

You wanted to cry but you couldn’t. You weren’t sure how you were talking because you had no mouth. You had nothing. 

[Host, this system is here to assist you. Rest assured, I exist to ensure your victory. But first, calm down.]

You didn’t say anything.

[I told Host about Eve because I did not think that such information was so important.]

“They’re basically soulmates.”

The system let out a mechanical chuckle. 

[There is a joke popular among my kind when it comes to soulmates: If God can split the Red Sea, then how about two lovers at the park?]

You replied with unimpressed silence.

[...ahem. Perhaps you would appreciate the words of a fellow human.]

That caught your attention. “Human?”

[You are my first Host and agent, but you are not the only contractor in history. An exceptional agent for the Secondary Character Grievance Delivery System once posed this question: “If the red string of fate were real, do you think it can be cut?”]

“I’m guessing the answer is yes.”

The system played out a bell sound, indicating that you were correct. [That host cut enough threads of fate to make a kimono. I’m sure my Host will become an even more amazing homewrecker!]

“Gee, thanks . But–” You didn’t appreciate being compared to a homewrecker, but you could tell it was doing its best to help you “–thanks.”

[˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶]

“Okay,” you said. “I think I’m ready.”

[Are you sure?]

“Yes. Send me back. Please.”

[All right. Preparing for transfer…rewinding–]

[ Ding .]

You were back at The Mug.

You glanced at the table. The frappe was still there, and Mark was still reading peacefully.

Your laptop was showing the anonymous discussion forum.

[I switched the tabs in case Host needed time to recover.]

You smiled.

You then clicked on Eve’s photo. 

She could be useful. 

[Maybe. It certainly will not hurt to have options.]

As you pondered over what to do next, Mark yawned. 

You checked the time, it was barely past ten. “Tired this early in the morning?”

“I work late.”

“Modeling?”

He gave you a look.

“What?”

“Did you just make a joke?”

“Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“I knew you thought I was sexy.”

“ Enough . We had this song and dance just twenty minutes ago.” You sipped on your frappe.

“What can I say, I like to boogie.”

You coughed out whipped cream. “I can’t believe you just said ‘boogie.’”

His grin deepened and he leaned forward. “What kind of music do you like to dance to?”

“Not much of a dancer.”

“Then what kind of music do you like?”

“Anything that’s good.”

He pouted. 

“It’s the truth. As long as the beat is fun I don't care about the genre.”

His finger trails the screen of his tablet absentmindedly. “You listen to rock bands?”

“Sure.”

The finger stopped.

“I wouldn’t call myself an outright fan, I don’t go out of my way to attend concerts or anything.”

“You’ve never been to a concert?”

“No, I’ve been to one with some friends. I found the ride home more enjoyable.” Concerts were expensive. They were also loud, packed and too much trouble than they’re worth. The body odor clung to you for days. You shivered at the memory.

Mark snapped his fingers. “Just one? You’re basically a virgin.” He said the last part a little too loudly.

Your shoulders tensed. Several students turned their faces to look at your table.

Mark flinched under your glare.

“Don’t be crude,” you reprimanded.

“Sorry–but hey, if you’re interested, there’s this…” He trailed off.

“There’s this what?”

He grabbed his chin, thinking. Then he shook his head. “No, it’s nothing.”

“If you say so.”

You both did your own thing until Mark’s watch beeped.

He cringed as he read whatever message was sent to him.

You peered over your monitor. “Your girlfriend looking for you?”

He gave you a weak smile. “No, it’s my boss. I gotta go.”

“What kind of part-time job just calls you out of the blue?” 

“A very sucky one.” He put his tablet back inside his bag and grabbed his jacket. “A sucky, sucky one who doesn’t believe in a work-life balance.”

“Sounds like a real buttmunch.”

He snorted. “Buttmunch?”

“You disagree?”

He shook his head, still smiling. “You’re right, he’s a gargantuan buttmunch.” 

He started walking but stopped before he passed your seat. His arm slid over the back of your chair and he leaned close enough for you to see his collar bones peeking under his shirt. He smelled like soap. 

“And by the way,” he whispered, “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

He held your stare with those umber eyes.

He smirked, pulled back and left.

You heard a ding from the system, followed by a congratulations, but you ignored it.

[Host, are you all right? Your temperature suddenly spiked, and why are you covering your mouth?]

“Just–” the hand on your mouth moved to your eyes “–just let me be for a moment.”

[Affection: 24%]

***

You finished today’s to-do list by saying goodbye to Amber after another tutoring session. She was so stressed for the upcoming exam that all the two of you talked about was academics, no gossip or unnecessary chatting. Normally, you would have preferred that type of interaction, but there was no window to ask about Eve. 

Left with nothing else to do, you returned to your dorm and headed straight for the shower. 

According to the system, the World Consciousness ensured that you wouldn’t get a roommate. A small boon in the grand scheme of things, but one you appreciated. 

You starfished on your bed, the mild smell of soap enveloped you and you fell asleep. 

You dreamt of relaxing in a swimming pool-sized mug, the hot coffee eased your joints. A giant flying pandesal hovered around you, calling you princess before diving in the middle of the mug. 

[Host.]

You startled awake. “Huh?”

[Host, get up.]

You felt around the bed for your phone. Squinting, you checked the time: 23:22. 

[Something is wrong. Get up.]

Before you could tell it to blow itself, it flashed you Mark’s corruption status.

[Darkening: 6%]

That got you up. 

“What happened? I haven’t done anything.”

[I think it would be best if you saw for yourself.]

Your phone suddenly started playing the news, its volume set to maximum. 

“Thousands of dollars worth of property damage, hundreds of civilians injured and dozens are presumed dead in the wake of Invincible’s fight against–”

You put on pants and an Upstate University sweatshirt. “Can you help me find him?”

The system presented a map with a blinking red dot. He was right here, within school grounds. 

[He’s on the rooftop of the main building.]

The main building is off limits this time of night. He must’ve flown there. But how the heck were you supposed to get there?

[Leave it to this system, Host!]

***

Mark Grayson sat on the edge of the roof, reclined over his arms. 

It was almost midnight so the usual hustle-bustle has calmed down. 

His mind wandered over to a certain woman. Did you get home safely? Were you still with Amber?

He glanced over the campus and over the rest of the city. Everything was quiet here. Peaceful. 

If he was this far away, he didn’t have to look at all those people he broke. Their homes were in shambles and they all blamed him–

Huwhahh

A monstrous sound from the stairway had him on his feet immediately. “Who’s there?!”

“Huhuuuuwahhhhuu” 

You pushed against the rooftop door and crawled out of the stairs, wheezing.

Mark stopped himself from stepping forward and speedily threw his civilian clothes over his suit. 

You were on your hands and knees, breathing like you’ve been running. 

“Jesus, are you okay?” He called out your name.

“Hm?” Your head bobbed up. “Mark? Why’re you here?”

“Me? What are you doing? What’s wrong?”

“I–I–” Your nose almost hit the floor but he caught you. 

“Is someone trying to hurt you?”

“No, no.” You closed your eyes and concentrated on breathing first. Once you were back to normal you looked at him properly. “Hi.”

“...hi.”

“I didn’t think anybody would be here.”

“For what, your dying goose roleplaying act?” He helped you sit. “Why’re you here?”

You mumbled something, refusing to make eye contact.

“What?”

“I said–” you appeared just about ready for the Earth to swallow you whole “–I wanted to see if there really is a White Lady here.”

“White Lady?”

Every school has a ghost story, especially universities. Wayne Technical Academy had the giant ghost bat, Metropolitan State had a headless librarian, and Upstate University had the White Lady haunting the main building. 

Mark blinked. “Seriously?”

“Amber told me about it.”

“You believe in ghosts? You ?”

Your recovering cheeks heated up again. “I just wanted to see.”

“Ghosts aren’t real.”

“They’ve never been proven but they’ve not been disproven either–why am I explaining myself to you?”

“Why were you out of breath?”

“I was, uh–” You kept your eyes on the ground. “I was fine walking around the halls when I heard footsteps behind me and I–I bolted up the stairs.” 

He blinked more slowly this time. Then his arms covered his stomach as he cackled. 

“Mark!”

“C’mon, that’s hilarious!”

“It’s not that funny.” You lightly hit his shoulder and he raised his hands up. 

“Sorry, sorry.”

“Now it’s your turn. Why are you here? This place is off-limits.”

He wiped a tear away. “I wanted to be alone, really alone.”

“Oh.”

“Not going to ask why?”

“No.” You looked over his shoulder and at the buildings. “I have days like that, too.”

Mark watched you for a while, then he sat beside you and you admired the lights together.

The speakers scattered across the campus played the sound of a bell, signaling midnight. 

He got up, patted the dust off his rear and wiped his palms over his thighs. He gave you his hand. “Come on. I’ll walk you back.”

***

As expected, there were few people outside during this time. The trip back to your dorm was uneventful, but you appreciated that Mark didn’t try to engage in small talk. 

“This is my building.”

“And?”

“Aaand thanks. You can go now.” That came out colder than you intended. “I’m sure you’re tired so thank you. Again.”

“Don’t you want me to check under your bed for any monsters?”

“There’s no need, I’m sure the demons in my closet scared them off.”

He laughed again. “All right, all right, I know when to take a hint.”

You cocked an eyebrow.

He grinned.

You rolled your eyes. “Good night, Mark.”

“Good night, princess.”

The door clicked behind you and you started walking towards the elevator. 

[Excellent work, Host!]

Pink and black contrasted against each other as Mark Grayson’s current status floated in front of you.

[Affection: 28%. Darkening: 6%.]

“I can’t believe you made me take the stairs.”

[It worked in your favor, didn’t it? You’re a surprisingly good actor when push comes to shove.]

You couldn’t argue with that. It was a good thing you read about the school’s ghost stories from the forum. Otherwise, you didn’t know what lie you could have told him for suddenly appearing. 

The system was too busy celebrating to notice your distress.

[The Host managed to get over a quarter of affection in less than a week. Huzzah!]

Fatigue set in your bones and you leaned against the cool metal wall of the elevator.

“I want something sweet,” you grumbled. 

taglist: @weponxwrites @ratkidcalledallie @qxuanii @lilacoaks

Disclaimer: The images used in this post do not belong to writerclaire. They were lifted from the following sources:

Invincible flying

Alternate Invincibles

CHAPTER 5: This Boy is a Choking Hazard Series Masterlist

ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊

MAIN MASTERLIST

Any questions for the author? Ask here.

[forkdragon]

I’m sick and spent all day sleeping with little breaks of awareness in between and I kept having dreams where I was the male lead CEO in a trashy romance novel that was trying to escape the plotline

[imageartifacts]

CANONICALLY SWITCHY PROTAGONIST SIGHTED!!!

[phoenixtakaramono]

I already made the announcement on my Twitter but come hell or high water, The Name of the Game ch1 will be posted to AO3 in September 2023.

If you’re curious about the current wordcount of the QT…:

Presently we are ~70%-80% there. When we’re 90% done and it’s about to enter final draft mode, I’ll alert y’all on my socials here and twitter for the week I think it’ll be ready + later the time & date exactly when it’s ready to go live. ✌️

A fun aside: as I’m writing this last scene of the prologue and setting it in winter, as I’m reading what I wrote I think you can tell a difference between how I write this with its intentionally GoT/ Dragon Age: Inquisition/ generic Western medieval fantasy inspired style versus the snow scene in The Untold Tale prologue with its intentionally C-novel inspired style. They’re both purple prose (with its flowery language/ writing), but they’re flowery in different ways. 🤔

[endlessapples]

Summer's Paradise | 1 The Warmth

xia yizhou | caleb x reader

synopsis:

Waking up in a different world where you have to pretend you have amnesia to get by is one thing. Waking up in a different world where you're married to a complete stranger and have to pretend you have amnesia is another. Yet, this stranger seems to know you well. Too well. And with everything this world seems to be hiding from you, he's the only one you can bring yourself to trust. But when distrust wedges itself between you and your newfound connection with this stranger-turned-husband, you begin to doubt if you can ever find a way to leave this world and return back to yours.

tags: eventual smut, amnesia, eventual forced imprisonment, transmigration, yandere!caleb, dark!caleb, domestic fluff (weirdly enough), manipulation, themes of forceful confinement, slight angst, married!au

word count: 5.1k

1 the warmth | 2 the smoke | 3 the heat

When you wake up in the hospital, blearing white light fills up your vision. And when it clears, your gaze settles on a stranger sleeping on your small cot.

He’s entirely too big for the room. You can see that from the uncomfortable position he’s in, on his knees and bent over so that he can keep his head propped up on your bed. His hat, black to match the uniform he’s in and broad-capped, rests next to his feet.

And then you look down and realize that he’s clutching your hand tightly in his. Even though he’s asleep, you notice almost aimlessly that his grip is so tight that you’re almost certain blood isn’t even properly flowing to your fingers anymore. You try to wiggle your fingers. Yup, an hour more and you’d probably lose that hand.

He twitches. And then he jolts up, almost knocking his head against yours. His eyes are shockingly purple—the shade of the night sky of the last sunset of summer, right after the sun dips below the horizon.

Your mouth gapes open in shock, and you almost fall back. His reflexes are quick—before your head even dips down, he’s already caught you by your waist and settled you back down on the bed. Gently. Cautiously.

“Whoa there, Pipsqueak!” he laughs. And then concern flashes through his eyes, and his hands have reached up to cup your cheeks. His touch is slightly warm. His voice softens all of a sudden. “How are you feeling?”

You flush under his intense scrutiny. He’s really a handsome man. Pause, you mentally smack yourself, this man is a stranger and he’s in your hospital room!

Wait, why are you in a hospital room?

You remember your desk at your apartment. You had been running off of no sleep and pushing towards an all-nighter, scanning through papers and spreadsheets desperately to meet your project’s deadline. And you remember setting an alarm for a 20-minute nap. And then you fell asleep...and now you were in the hospital?

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, finally finding your voice. You crane your neck to try to move out of his grip. “Um, who are you?”

He pauses. He looks hurt, concerned, sad, and weirdly enough, almost numb to your words. He withdraws his hands from your face.

“I’m Caleb.” A smile strains onto his face, almost like it was rehearsed and repeated, at the blank expression on your face. “Xia Yizhou.”

Caleb. Xia. The characters ring with familiarity in your head for a second. And then the feeling is gone.

“I’m—,” you begin to say, but before you’ve even finished saying your name, it’s already fallen off his lips.

Weird. How did he know your name? Alarm bells are ringing in your head all of a sudden. Just because he’s a good-looking guy doesn’t mean you should be okay with him being all up in your personal space. After all, he could be a killer or a weirdo. A good-looking one at that. And you’re his next bed-bound victim.

Your gaze falls down, and you begin to notice the band-aids wrapped tightly around you. One peek down the collar of your hospital pajamas has you noticing that even your chest is wrapped with white gauze. Even underneath your sleeve, you can see the band-aids. And your palms, on closer look, there’s a scab over your healing scrapes.

“Did I get hit by a car or something?” you muttered to yourself.

The stranger—Caleb, you correct yourself in your mind—shakes his head fiercely. “You got attacked by wanderers. When you were with me. I...” He stops speaking and drops his head.

Wanderers?

You stare at him even more blankly. And then your hands fly to your mouth. Your voice comes out in a hush, as your eyes dart around anxiously: “Is this like a zombie apocalypse or something? Are they surrounding the hospital right now? Are we going to die?”

A laugh of disbelief leaves his mouth before he can stop it. And then he stops, his head raising up and his eyes squinting in confusion, and then he looks even more concerned. Were there actually zombies? At that rate, you should’ve just been left for dead. Or Undead.

“Wanderers. They’re monsters that roam around after coming to earth, and you are a hunter...,” he pauses, “were a hunter who hunted them down.”

You feel relief dawning on you for a second at the fact that zombies aren’t part of this new weird reality you had awakened yourself to and then horror dawns on you when you realize that perhaps, these wanderer monsters perhaps aren’t any better to deal with. Especially when it seems like it is...or it was your job to deal with them.

“Like, with weapons?” you whisper, in shock. He nods. You are sure the only weapon you ever wielded was pepper spray walking home at night from overtime. Hell, you often had to ask your neighbor to help you bring up the heavier packages from the mailroom to your place.

But true to his words, you can feel that you are stronger, more muscular and toned, despite being what looks like hospitalized and severely injured.

Okay, so everything is seeming much less than a caffeine-induced nightmare and more like a twisted version of your normal reality.

“So I’m not a...hunter anymore?” you speak carefully.

He stares at you, in silence. He looks like he was contemplating a hard decision. And then he shakes his head.

“No, not anymore.”

Sure, you are certain that this version of you on the outside is still very much capable of swinging some heavy sword. But the you on the inside is someone who finds public-speaking during your meetings terrifying. Much less having the courage that it takes to slay monsters.

But you still tentatively ask. “Why?”

His eyes crinkle all of a sudden. His left hand reaches out, and he fondly strokes the top of your head. You don’t find it repulsive or jarring. His touch is...familiar.

“You tell me, Pipsqueak. After all, you decided to quit after we got recently married.”

Married? You blubber at his response. Your index finger reaches out to point at him, and then back at you, and then back at him.

And then your vision goes black.

🍏🍎

When you wake up, you are hopeful that what will meet your gaze would be the black screen of your overworked laptop and a drool-covered notepad with smudged ink. But instead, you can hear hushed whispers speaking with each other.

“Amnesia...Might be long-term...Recovery unknown...”

You peek an eye open. Damn, you are still in the hospital room.

Caleb somehow immediately senses that you had awakened, and in a flash, he’s by your side with the doctor—an aging man with a couple of gray hairs in his otherwise black hair—next to him. He reaches out and pats your cheek lightly, drawing your attention up to his face.

“Look, Pipsqueak, the doctor said that I can bring you home starting next week. It looks like most of your injuries are close to being fully recovered and being home will be good for your psychological well-being and might help you remember anything.” He flashes a confident smile.

The doctor beside him nods before adding. “These cases are rare, and we don’t know if there’s a cure, but taking some time to rest more will help stabilize your body and your mind. We’ll release you once it looks like you can fly, and I can refer you to a neurologist for support.”

Caleb’s smile temporarily strains before it relaxes. You feel like it was a trick of your eyes with how subtle and quick it is. He speaks, not to you but to the doctor. “But no pressure, right? She’ll need to take it slow and then we’ll reach out to one in Skyhaven once she’s all adjusted.”

His gaze slides down to you. “Right, Pipsqueak?”

Well, until you return to your normal reality, it seems like you are stuck here. And Caleb knows you—hell, he’s married to this version of you. And the doctor doesn’t seem to question your relationship either.

You nod. Or try your best to with the stiff muscles in your neck.

It looks like you’ll just have to enjoy being married to a hot guy while you still can. Not that that will be hard. But it seems like everything else in this world will be difficult to deal with...

🍏🍎

You can’t sleep well that night in the hospital. It’s almost funny—it looks like the you of this universe has caught up with her sleep debt from her coma. Instead, you lay on your back on your bed.

Your gaze falls onto the table next to the bed. You spot a phone. Your phone.

Caleb had dropped it off by your side before he had left. “Fully charged,” he had grinned down at you. It seems like you had a phone addiction even here. He looked like he didn’t want to leave, really, but you had squinted at him earlier as he had begun to slide a chair to your bedside and gone: “Have you even changed your clothes since you’ve come here? Slept in a proper bed?” He had shamelessly averted his gaze.

You had shaken your head at him in an almost maternal disappointment and crossed your arms in front of you, grimacing. “Okay, from your uniform, it looks like you’re financially secure. Get a hotel room for the night. Take a shower. Get a change of clothes. And sleep not on the floor with my already small bed as a pillow but on an actual bed with actual pillows and an actual blanket. I don’t want even the idea of a whiff of stinky man near me for the rest of the night.”

He had looked like a kicked puppy then, and you swore you could see drooping ears and a tail on him. And even more so when he had left. He had lingered by the door, staring back at you with pitiful eyes. You had a feeling you would have given in if you looked at him any longer, so instead, you turned so your back was facing him. “Go!” you spoke fiercely. And then your voice softened. “I’ll see you in the morning?”

“I’ll see you in the morning? Good night then, Pipsqueak.” He whispered, gently. And then the door closed.

Hours later, you are still awake, and your phone is taunting you from the bedside table. It looks like an exact carbon copy of your phone back in your universe. It has a cute phone case with little apple designs and an attached wallet where you had tucked in the cards you needed.

You turn it on, and it recognizes your face, letting you in. The search engines look different to the ones in your Universe, but with some exploration, you are able to take yourself to what resembles closest to the search engine you usually used.

You pause before typing in.

Wanderer.

Images of wanderers pop up, and a wiki page categorizing their types is the first link. You squint. Okay, they are scary. And dangerous. But weirdly enough, less scary than the zombies in the tv shows you sometimes watch.

You then try another search.

Hunter.

You see a link to the official Hunters Association page show up. You click on it, and the page opens up to a simple emblem. There’s a description that you quickly read, and then you close out of the page. Next, news articles about the heroic deeds of hunters pop up and you read through them.

A woman in a gray uniform pops up. Jenna, is her name. She looks familiar. Really familiar. Is she your former boss? And then you scroll down even more and even more before stopping when a title popped up out at you, dating three years back.

Meet this year’s newest hunter admits.

You see a picture of you in the crowd. It is you, but it feels different somehow. This you, dressed in what you had identified as the hunter uniform, smiles at the camera with a confident ease. She feels almost alien, even though she wears the same skin as you. Or you’re wearing the same skin as her. You immediately exit the page.

You try one more search.

Waking up in another world with a husband you don’t even know about meaning?

Nothing relevant pops up. Except for some transmigration novels recommendations you spot. Glad to know those exist here too.

 You turn off your phone in defeat and roll onto your side. Staring outside at the sliver of the night sky that your blinds don’t fully cover, you let out a sigh and close your eyes. Maybe when you wake up next, you won’t even need to worry about wanderers and hunters and broad-shouldered men in uniform with puppy-like purple eyes who look at you in ways you can’t really decipher.

🍏🍎

Caleb doesn’t leave your side for the entire week, even though you’re certain from his uniform that he’s definitely in a higher-up position in one of the however many government organizations existing here—Farspace Fleet, you confirm when you eavesdrop on him during one of the many  times he’s in the hallway grumbling on the phone with someone.

It’s almost abnormally normal how much ease you feel letting this random stranger into your life. He knows you—or this version of you—well. Every detail, from the temperature you like in your room to the type of shows that you’d like to watch on the tv to your food dislikes and likes.

When you try to discreetly pick out the veggies you don’t like for a dish, he catches you and insists you finish them. “Just because you don’t like them doesn’t mean you can avoid them. You won’t get all better without them.”

When you pretend not to hear him, he lets out a long sigh and plucks the spoon out of your own hand. “Ahh,” he hums.

You puff out your cheeks, annoyed all of a sudden. “I’m not two-years-old, Caleb. I’ll eat my veggies by myself." When you try to yank the utensil back, he leans back just out of reach.

“Uh-uh,” he tsks, poking at your cheek with a playful smile on his face, “I know what you’ll do. You’ll eat them and then try to spit them out into the napkin when I’m not noticing. Now open up.”

Yikes, how did he know?

Unfortunately for you, Caleb’s grip on the spoon is much stronger than yours, and unless you want to rely on your hands to eat your food, which seems like a bigger pain for the butt, you’ll have to settle on this approach. So you reluctantly oblige. But you notice with a pointed look the small pile of cilantro he has nudged aside on his own plate. He pretends to ignore your look and pokes the spoon to your lips.

Vegetable force-feeder aside, honestly, having Caleb around is almost like having a built-in helper robot, one that is attuned to your every need. Except instead of wires and cold metal, he’s made of hot flesh.

When you go on walks outside, he’s right behind you, watching carefully as if to make sure you won’t fall. He’s a hoverer, that’s for sure.

When you narrow your eyes at him and ask him “Do you even have enough PTO to be lurking around me like this”, he always pretends like he can’t answer the question and shamelessly changes it to a different topic.

The week passes by in a flash, with Caleb showing up the moment the sun rises and leaving back for his hotel late at night. And before you know it, you’ve become used to him. Almost too used to him.

🍏🍎

Caleb shows up early at 7am, even though he had told you the previous night that he’d be here at 8am to pick you up. You had insisted last night that he go home early—9pm sharp, in fact, instead of the usual midnight. He still looks like he hasn’t had enough sleep, and now that you’re less frazzled by your current reality, you can spot the dark circles clearly brimming underneath his eyes. Still, you mentally wolf-whistle, he’s gorgeous.

He’s back in his uniform. And before he comes near you, he tries to subtly sniff himself. Obviously, your comment about stinky men still rings loud and clear in his mind. You feel a bit sorry for him. He didn’t even stink when you had brought it up. In fact, he smelled good still. Annoyingly good.

But here you are, his supposed wife who’s not really his wife but is actually another soul who temporarily slipped into his wife’s body. But you try to assure yourself that hygiene really is the most important thing every human should prioritize.

 “Did you sleep well?” you ask. He peers up at you through his lashes, pitifully, as he helps peel the blanket off of your legs and assists you to your feet before pulling a set of clothes out of his bag. He looks like a kicked dog, and you feel a little bad at how you’ve been pushing him around.

“How can I? I’m used to you being at my side every night. And last night you didn’t even let me stay to my usual hour,” he shrugs. He unfolds the set. It’s a plain baggy t-shirt and some loose pants. When he reaches out as if he’s about to reach for the buttons of your shirt, he hesitates and drops his hands.

“You should get changed.” He takes a few steps back, until his back hits the wall of the room.

You squint at him. “Aren’t you turning your back?”

His face flushes red and then he swiftly turns around. You can see that his ears have turned a bright red. Cute. You laugh to yourself.

But he really is big. There’s not much space, and you have to keep your arms from swinging into him as you take off your pajamas and pull on the change of clothes as swiftly as possible. It’s quiet, the only sound the rustling of your clothes.

When you’re done, you poke your finger into his back. “I’m done.”

He flinches, like he’s been jolted by your touch. He turns around, and you can see that his cheeks are rosy. In the past week you’ve been with him, he hasn’t been this flustered. But maybe it’s because you’ve been in your usual baggy hospital pajamas set and messed up greasy hair. Now, you look refreshed and energized. Like a civilian instead of a sick patient.

Still, as his flush fades and he reaches to adjust the crumpled collar of your shirt, you think to yourself that it’s odd that he looks pretty comfortable touching you but not with the other way around.

You take a step back and almost wobble. It looks like despite all your perceived muscle, laying in a coma for a week without any movement has really weakened you. And your adventures out into the hospital courtyard don’t seem to be serving you that much justice in the physical movement department.

“Whoa!” you gasp out. In a flash, Caleb has swept you up onto his arm so that you’re comfortably nestled in his hold above the ground. He effortlessly holds your bag of items in the other. Unconsciously, you had reached out and wrapped your arms around his shoulders in a panic at your shift in gravity. And by the time you stabilize yourself, he’s already out of the room and in the hallway.

“You know...you’re pretty reliable and everything but uh, next time, give me a heads up?” you see the shocked expressions of the people in the hallway, including a nurse you had become familiar with in the past week, and bury your burning face into his shoulders. You knock your fist against his shoulder when he doesn’t respond, and he just laughs.

“Got it, Captain,” you can almost hear the cheeky grin in his voice, and you whack him again with your fist. But to him, it probably just feels like something barely grazing against him with the way he continues without care.

He eventually sets you down when you make it to the station. Caleb catches your look of confusion, and he provides the name. “Coelum Express. It’s not a long trip.” He then stares at your band-aids peeking out underneath your sleeves. His face twists into a frown. “I’d fly us in if I could, but security’s been tighter because of the frequency of Wanderer attacks lately. If anything starts hurting, let me know.”

You don’t like worrying him. In fact, you never liked worrying anyone. Back in your other world, when you had been sick and about to pass out, it was only your neighbor that took care of you because he had spotted you half-conscious in the stairwell. Other than that, you even refused to let your family know that you weren’t feeling well.

You wonder if a version of him exists here. He had moved in a few years back and rarely spoke to anyone. And he always wore a black mask. You couldn’t really remember if you had ever seen his face, oddly enough, but if he resembled anyone, it would have to be the big puppy of a man next to you.

You realize that Caleb is still looking at you. You shake your head free from your thoughts. “I’ll be fine.”

He doesn’t look convinced.

“Really,” you nudge him. “I’m a grown adult. I can handle myself. And what, it’s only a few hours?”

He reaches out and ruffles your hair. You try to duck and bat away his hands, and when you focus back on him, you can see that the smile on his face is almost rueful. “Even when you forget all about me, you don’t seem to forget that you don’t need me.”

You don’t like how bitter he looks. Something takes over you, and you run a tentative hand across his chest. Your fingers bump the silver chain around his neck—dog tags, with a small apple charm. When U Come Back. Those words sound familiar in your head again. But like with everything else about this world, the moment you try to grab onto it, it’s already dissolved.

“Caleb, I need you,” you whisper before you can stop yourself.

You won’t tell him that you’re a stranger possessing the body of his wife, that the person you are in your other world is someone entirely different from the person he knows here. But it’s true. He’s the only one you know in this unfamiliar world. And you need him.

He’s staring at you in that way again. Like he’s trying to read your mind, while helplessly offering to you something you might want to read from his mind. Vulnerable, in a trance where you’re the person leading him into it and you’re also the only person who can lead him out of it.

And you know he’s seeing someone else through you.

Silver glints in your field of vision again, and you step back. You offer him an awkward smile, averting your gaze. “Come on, let’s not miss the train.”

🍏🍎

The train ride is, as Caleb says, quick. Clouds pass by you in a flash, and you stay with your face pressed up against the glass in aware. The world here, as familiar as it is in some ways, is much more high-tech than yours in other ways. Caleb doesn’t say much to you during the ride. He sits there, watching you.

Before long, the two of you are back at his place. Our place, you correct in your mind. This is the home of Caleb and the version of you that he’s married to.

It’s cozy and decorated exactly to your taste. You can see some peeks of Caleb through it—the airplane diagrams on the wall, the models neatly organized on the black shelves, and some large books with bugs on the front. Everything else though feels familiar and comfortable to you. Like Caleb, this place is catered to your every liking and taste.

He’s setting your bags down behind you as you begin to roam around. You peruse through the framed pictures set around. There’s a picture of you in a pretty white dress smiling at the camera at him. And another of the two of you with your fingers up in peace signs at the camera. You move on from the frames.

“Are you hungry? I can make something for lunch.” He throws the comment at you as you’re burying your head in the pile of throw pillows on the sofa. You peek up at him and nod your head eagerly.

He’s about to leave into the kitchen when you glance at your finger. Your ring finger.

“Hey, Caleb,” you call out. He stops in his tracks. “We’re married right? Where’s my ring?”

You’ve seen the ring on his finger. It’s a silver band with a small airplane embedded on it. And it made sense that the hospital probably took the ring off of your finger after the incident. But Caleb hadn’t even made a mention of it.

You can’t see his face when he responds, his back turned to you. “It’s getting repaired at the shop. It got damaged during the wanderer attack. It’ll be back, good as new.”

You open your mouth, about to ask something else, when the phone in his pocket beeps. Before you can say anything, he’s already turned to give you an apologetic smile as he picks up the phone and heads off into the kitchen.

When he comes out, he’s already heading to a different room. You watch him with curious eyes as he comes out, his hat in his hand.

“Shoot, it’s something urgent at the Fleet.” He walks over to you and reaches down to pat your head. “I’ll order some food to the door, and I’ll be back tonight. If you need me, call me. My number’s in your phone.”

And then he’s gone.

With Caleb away from your side during the day instead of the night, you’re once again left with your thoughts. Here you are, married, in the home of newlyweds, when the you of your world has only had your job to worry about and a practically nonexistent love life to shoo away from your mind.

You flop to your other side, grimacing a bit at the impact. You’re still bruised.

You can hear the faint ticking of a clock, but other than that, there’s nothing to stimulate your mind here. In your boredom, exhaustion creeps up on you and you fall asleep.

Your sleep is restless. You hear a loud screech echo in your ears, your feet are covered in mud as you sprint in the darkness, and you can feel the ground shaking underneath you as something behind you scrambles to catch up to you.

You’re getting tired. You know that you won’t be able to run any further before it catches up to you. And then you’re falling. Tree branches scratch at your body as you sink deeper. And then you’re in a room, confined to a chair.

Someone’s watching you. You can’t see them, but you can hear their soft breathing. You call out, demanding: “Who’s there?”

Footsteps sound in front of you. Your head whips up, and a loud gasp falls from your lips.

“Caleb?”

You jolt awake, your heart racing. A quick glance to the window next to the sofa shows that the sky is already getting dim.

The house is still silent. Caleb’s not back yet.

It isn’t until this realization that you can relax. And you feel guilt prod at you because of it.

Because this is Caleb. Familiar Caleb. Caleb who’s supposed to be your husband and has taken care of your entire need during your recovery. It’s just your mind playing tricks on you. You shake your head and get to your feet.

As you’re about to head to the front door to check on the delivery food you’re certain has already grown cold, you decide to change direction and head towards the bedrooms. It’s not until you’re in the hallway that you spot something small glinting on the floor, right in front of the large wall in the hallway.

It’s a ring. Almost identical to Caleb’s ring except it’s daintier and shaped in a way that it would fit comfortably on yours. Odd, didn’t Caleb say that this was supposed to be at the repair shop? You look closer at it, trying to figure it out even more underneath the dimming light of the setting sun.

And then you notice the faint copper on the silver.

It’s blood.

You glance up at the large wall. You reach out, just about to press your hand firmly against it, when you hear the front door open and a voice ring out.

“Where are you, Pipsqueak? You didn’t eat the delivery food?”

You quickly scoop up the ring and hide it in the pocket of your pants. Getting up, you wander back out into the living room.

Caleb’s back. He looks tired, but when he spots you, relief washes over his expression. And then his expression turns slightly cold. “What have you been doing until now?”

You can feel the weight of the ring in your pocket. But you try to forget about it, not when Caleb seems to have a sixth sense in detecting your lies, and you seem to not have that same sixth sense for detecting his lies. Even now, you can’t tell if he’s hiding something from you. You don’t like to think that he is. After all, he’s the only one you have here that you can trust.

“I fell asleep on the couch, and when I woke up just now, I tried to find the bathroom.” You shrug. “And I got lost.”

He relaxes a little. “It’s in our bedroom. The first door in the hallway. Since you didn’t eat anything today and I didn’t either, I’ll make something. It’s not good to eat delivery food left out after all.”

You nod, almost mindlessly. When you turn to find your way to the bathroom, because really you did have to go use it, you don’t even notice that he’s still standing there, his eyes not leaving you.

A/N: it's been a while since I've written fanfic for any fandom, so I hope it isn't too rusty!! Let me know your thoughts/theories about what's going on with Caleb and why you're in this new world (where's the other you/).

You can also find this published on AO3 as well under my user applesanonymous :) but both shouldddd be published at the same time!

[atlasreading]

Book #1: I Really Am a Slag Shou!

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

I finished “I Really Am a Slag Shou!” by 你的荣光!

This book contains 181 chapters + 2 extras split into 8 arcs, taking a total of 3 days for me to finish.

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

Rating: ★★★★☆

I was satisfied by the ending, the main couple, and even the side couple, but it didn’t give me as much excitement as I wished it did. There are some features and moments that are weird, and the book didn’t make me feel hollow when I finished it—like how my 5 star-rated books do.

If you are looking for more romance than serious world-buildt fantasy and love having many different couple tropes, than I recommend it!

My extended thoughts + review including spoilers will be posted later today!

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

”I Really Am a Slag Shou!” by 你的荣光!

Description:

Chi Zhao binds with the slag shou system, and if he succeeds in his missions, he will be rewarded.

But who said life is easy!

A rich old man who was slagged by him: “I know you love me. Your past pains, I’ve already investigated them.”

The star admiral who had been slagged by him: “Don’t be reluctant anymore! I’ve always known that you didn’t betray me.”

The entertainment mogul who was slagged by him: “Don’t make any noise. Honey, will you come home with me?”

The prince regent who was slagged by him said, “The mountains and rivers are yours, but you are mine.”

The dark sentinel who was slagged by him: “Now, do you still want to say that it is not my child?”

…

Chi Zhao burst into tears: “Boss, believe me just this once. Let me get the reward, okay?”

Thinking that the acting is very good, in fact, every day he’s spreading meng.

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

[k0mmari]

SYSTEM! SHEN YUAN AU

Okay, look, I've head a System SY idea for a while now (in fact, some of the ideas for this were used when I was first planning out Locked & Loaded), but after seeing @/artsarasp's System!SQQ AU, the brainworms have been once again come alive and I just need to get this out into the world. This is a very bare bones idea that I (probably) won't actually write, so walk with me for a second! Also this is going to be a very, very long post.

In this idea, the System actually is an interdimensional organization that deal with creating new worlds based on stories and making sure these worlds continue working as intended and (eventually), sending transmigrators to worlds that need 'improvement' (this improvement being very subjectice depending on which worker is assigned which story).

In SY's case, he's just someone who usually works behing a screen, in the most exciting cases he gets to guide transmigrators around but most of the time he just makes sure the stories 'code' is running normally and nothing world-breaking is going on in the stories (like someone managing to find a hack to skip defining plot points, or activating God-Mode somehow). He's very happy with this arrangement, btw! He was never one to run around and his boss has warned him once or twice for apparently being 'way too harsh' on the few transmigrators he got to be a System for.

Unfortunately, one day he is assigned to 'manually inspect' a world because a certain co-worker of his (Shang Qinghua) had been sent down there to handle a glitch but had gone missing instead. When SY asks why was he being the one asked to do this (not that he doesn't care for his friend, but he REALLY isnt made for running around), his boss says SY is the only other one who is familiar enough with the world to not get lost.

So that's how he find out SQH had managed to get himself stuck on the world he created (as a joke even, he hadn't even expected that when he was messing around with the company's program he would actually be able to create a new world based on the shitty novel he'd written as a human). And of course, SQH only having one friend, subjected SY to the story.

SY grumbles and denies ever seeing anything about SQH's story (or liking it, even if his boss kindly points out they never mentioned SY liked it) but eventually he agrees; and that's how he finds himself being teletransported onto the world of PIDW, carrying a pair of Debugging Sheers he'd never thought he would have to hold (he calls them Big Scissors), with the mission of finding SQH and dealing with the glitch that was still somewhere in the world.

Though, when he goes to message his supervisor about the specifics (where he should go or what was the last known location of SQH), he finds out that his Personal System has apparently already been affected by the glitch ("ALREADY??") that he was realizing worked more like a virus. Fortunately some messages were still going through, and his supervisor notified him they couldn't send him directly to the location he needed to be, specially because the virus seemed to have fragmented and spread to various parts of the stories timeline. SY now has to jump around through time a few times and slowly cut doen the glitches caused by the virus.

Thus begins Shen Yuan's Great Narrative Haunting (in real time.).

Luckily, for him, the place he first appeared was already one of the spots the virus has infected the world, and it seems to be in a town not too far away from him, so with a quick activation of the 'Ghost Mode' function (avaiable for all System staff to make it easier when they have to manually fix something, making them invisible and untouchable), SY heads to the town.

The glitch actually doesnt take too long to find (it was a buggy tree clipping onto a nearby river, which only needs a snip of the Big Scissors to disappear from reality), but when SY and passing through the town to find some better signal for his Personal System so he can jump forward to the next stop, he sees a group of snickering kids leaving an alleyway. A bit curious, he passes by the alley and barely manages to see through the pouring rain and spot a trembling figure on the floor. Of course, PIDW was never meant to be a happy or forgiving world, so SY is not surprised at the idea that some kids were bullying a smaller kid, though it still makes him upset.

He kneels close to the child and turns off 'Ghost Mode', pulling out an umbrella from his inventory (yes, System staff ALSO get an inventory, no one wants to have to carry aroung those big ass scissors), covering him from the rain. The boy is shaking from the cold, and even if SY can't check the boy's identity (since his system is still buggy), he reasons the probability of him coming into contact with an important character is very small, and even if System staff aren't supposed to interact with characters, he limits himself to at least getting the boy out of the rain.

Luo Binghe later wakes in a bench underneath a small shop's roof, covered in a thick cloth, having no idea how he'd gotten there besides the vague dream (or memory?) of a strangely dressed person patting his hair and taking him into their arms. He notices the rain has stopped and he's perfectly dry. Shen Yuan, seeing the kid seems to be doing well, finally jumps to his next location.

It doesn't take long for SY to figure out where he is when he loads onto the next mission location, in fact, he's almost certain he'd recognize the bamboo forest and calm, almost dream-like atmosphere of Qing Jing Peak anywhere. Seeing there that Qing Jing even exists in the first place, he deduces Binghe is still not emperor, so this time he makes sure to not be seen by any characters. It also doesn't take for SY to find his next target, as a commotion behind him catches his attention.

And oh, if he isn't familiar with the scene. A few older looking disciples push around a smaller looking boy, while a girl insistently shouts for the leader of the older disciples to stop. SY barely managed to appreaciate how Luo Binghe looks so cute as a child before (who he assumes is) Ming Fan snatches rips an amulet out of Binghe's neck. It's quite the heartbreaking scene to watch live, poor Binghe fighting for the only remaining piece of his adoptive mother without even knowing he's destined to never see it again. SY's Personal System may be buggy but it's still functional enough to detect if SY has a direct impact on the main storyline, so SY is basically forced to stand still and watch.

Though, since he had a clear view of the whole scene, when Ming Fan throws the jade pendant into the forest, SY can perfectly follow the arch of the necklace and sees where it landed, which is when an idea pops into his head. Distantly hearing Luo Binghe and NYY frantically searching for a necklace they'll never find, SY spots where the fake jade glimmers high up on a tree brench, though it's glimmer is distorted by the distinct sight of a glitch corrupting it's form. If SY were to follow standard procedure, he'd just have to bring out his Sheers and snip the necklace out of existence, but looking at it... Would it be so bad if he debugged the necklace the longer way?

Besides, if Binghe has the necklace or not, it's not like this one item is going to interfere with the major story anyways. SY isn't stopping Binghe from falling into the Abyss, he's just... Returning a lost item to it's intended owner.

Later, after an exhausting afternoon of what seemed to be searching through every nook and cranny of Qing Jing Peak's surrounding forest, Luo Binghe goes back to the shed he sleeps in utterly defeat and feeling strangely hollow; that is, until he opens the door and finds a new, thick blanket neatly folded in the middle of the shed, way too clean to be anything he had previously owned, and atop of it, his precious jade pendent, sitting there as if it never even dissapeared. Luo Binghe distantly notices that nobody that visits the shed ever lets the door closed after they visit.

The third location SY goes to leaves him no time to acclimatize, as he's immediately attacked by a beast, and only after (struggling to) kill it, does SY notice the unfortunate situation he was placed into: the Immortal Alliance Conference. By this point, he's already figured out his Personal System is most likely using Binghe's energy as Protagonist to make up for the energy it can't use due to it being partially corrupted, and the energy it needs to save up so SY can go back to the System's head quarters, so it really wasn't a surprise that he would be sent to this specific plot point, but dammit can't he avoid having to be near the place where his favorite character is thrown into hell??

And, well, there's also the problem that a beast attacked him, which meant it saw him, which meant his Ghost Mode was also glitching out, and after fiddling around which a half functioning System interface, it seems that the presence of the virus here is stronger than the other places, though still not the biggest chunk. Truly, just the cherry on top of his situation that he'd have to scurry around and somehow manage to not bump into anyone.

As is his luck, as SY tries to head closer to where his System is signaling the glitch's presence, other monsters continue attacking him, which besides slowing him down a considerable amount, it also causes the risk of him being picked up by the people watching the Conference through the Spirit Eagles circling the area, which is the last thing he needs.

Eventually he goes to the closest spot he can to the glitch, but a snapping sound behind him sends him into full panic. A person stands behind him, which leaves SY wondering how he managed to miss someone sneaking up on him like this. "You seem to have dropped something." the person says, and SY eyes immediately fall to his body, scanning himself to what he might have lost, and his hand basically flies to his throat when he notices the tassle that is usually nestled there is missing. He quickly turns around, only to come face to face to the golden protagonist, mister Luo Binghe himself.

Binghe tries interrogating SY as to what he's doing, sneaking around the supposedly sealed off Conference grounds, and SY, in his panicked state (slightly fuelled by a fanboy-induced craze) tries to fumble for excuses, but only when Binghe finally understands that the feeling he gets when looking at this strange person is an undeniable sense of deja-vu and tries asking SY if they'd met before, a loud rumblind shakes the ground: the Abyss has opened.

SY feels even more panicked, cause what this means is eventually, not only will he be discovered by Luo Binghe (his supervisor is going to kill him), but he could possibly be discovered by Shen Qingqiu, of all people! He doesn't get too much time to think about his grand escape however, as a piercing shriek comes from the Abyss rift. Right, how could he forget about the Black Moon Rhinoceros Python? And-- Oh, of course! Of course the damn thing would be virus-infected object!

After teaming-up with Binghe, the both of them manage to subdue the monster long enough that SY managed to snip it, though while they both catch their breath, SY belatedly realizes he just helped Binghe fight with the monster he was supposed to fight. Alone! The monster who was supposed to break his demonic seal! And, like clockwork, he can distantly hear what can only be SQQ's hurried steps through the forest! FUCK!!

With no other option, and Binghe now wanting to continue his interrogation, SY hurriedly start to walk towards the Abyss rift, frantically giving Binghe tips about what he could do in the Abyss to have an easier time, though when he catches a glimpse of green robes between the trees, SY types something on a floating screen and jumps backwards, Binghe letting out a shocked scream. Unfortunately, the protagonist won't be able to do nothing about the seemingly insane and way too familiar man who just jumped into the Abyss, as a rustling sounds behind him, and he's met with a newly regenrated Black Moon Rhino.

SY feels horrible about spawning a new one after Binghe just finished fighting one, but the story must continue, and with his Personal System finally free from most of the virus corruption, SY leaves one last gift as an apology and warping away before hitting the Abyss' ground. Later, when Binghe wakes up at the bottom of the rift after being pushed by SQQ, the first thing he sees is a qiakun pouch, full of useful items and tiny note at the bottom that reads 'Sorry!'

Pt.2

Pt.3