#the swear jar thing was out of nowhere but i thought it would be peak comedy

[quackkryak]

An au "What if after Entropy Zero 2 Aiden would join the resistance?"

Cuz i think this has potential to be the most worst yet funniest interaction with main heroes-

(Also yes Aiden is still transhuman but his face has less modified for this au, only the eye thingy cuz uh- zen influence or smth)

(I was bored at uni and this au created accidentally okay--)

Also full pics

Plus a little comics with sea_maggie's defect turret inspired design but as Wilson-

[slasherbastard]

Stockholm Syndrome - Brahms Heelshire

(gif credit: boodalinski)

Request:  Thank you, so I was wondering if I could get one for Brahms. Where the reader (preferably a girl you can do gn, if you like!!) moves from the states to the u.k for a job. And she comes across Brahms home bc she got lost. And she steps inside and spends the night there and he like stalks her from the walls. And the next morning he like knocks her out and takes her hostage after she tries to leave, bc shes his new obsession. Maybe Stockholm syndrome if you’re comfortable with doing that. I’m not sure if you write smut or anything like that.

Warning: light smut Word count: 2639 Notes: okay okay so I redid the ending and added the smut, that’s the last time I try to write when sleep deprived

Brahms wasn't expecting guests that night but then you stumbled upon the manor. Ever since Greta left to who knows where Brahms had no one to look after him so he was left to look after himself. Now that he didn't have to worry about hiding away from any nannies he was free to roam the rooms of the house instead of just observing from the walls. It was nice for him, being able to eat warm meals whenever he pleased without having to worry about them being freezing out while he waited for the nanny to stray far enough from the kitchen that it'd be safe enough for him to leave the walls and steal the food like a rat.

It was getting late and Brahms couldn't sleep, the loneliness was eating him alive and he was starving because apparently 4 PB&J sandwiches weren't enough for him. Brahms hated to admit it but he missed Greta and needed her - no, he needed someone to just care for him and love him the way she could've. The next thing Brahms knew he was out of the walls and making yet another PB&J for himself, rubbing his tired eyes as he screwed the lid back onto the jar of jam.

That's when he heard the front door open and he froze. There was definitely time for Brahms to grab his sandwich to run back to one of the few entries into the walls but worry filled him as he abandoned the meal and found the hole in the parlour where a mirror once hung. Within a few seconds you walked past one of the slits in the wallpaper and Brahms held his breath as a stranger walked into the kitchen.

"Hello? I'm sorry to intrude but I'm lost and-" She stopped as she saw the freshly made sandwich sitting on the counter and spun around and Brahms watched her every move. He watched as this girl cautiously looked around before grabbing the sandwich and taking a bite out of it, Brahms expected himself to be angry. How dare a complete stranger just waltz into his home and eat his food? But for some reason he wasn't mad, in fact, something about the stranger fascinated him. "Whoever made this, this is a surprisingly good PB&J. Is this place haunted?" She muttered the last bit to herself and Brahms quietly chuckled behind his mask as she put away the items Brahms had left out and finished the sandwich before walking upstairs and continuing to talk to herself, blabbering about how she was giving herself 'horror movie' vibes.

She yawned as she reached the top of the stairs and peaked into the bedrooms still quietly calling out just in case somebody actually was home, and nobody was to her knowledge. Brahms followed her through the walls as she found one of the guest bedrooms and yawned again. The stranger dropped the bag she was holding onto the floor and crawled into the bed, tiredly talking to herself. "Alright, Y/N. Just go to sleep then leave as soon as you wake up." 'Y/N' what a beautiful name.

Brahms quietly chanted the name under his breath as he watched her fall onto the bed and snuggle into the small stream of blankets. He didn't have Greta anymore but that didn't matter because now he has you, Y/N.

--

You opened your eyes as the memories from last night came back to you. You'd caught a bus straight from the airport to what you were hoping was a cheap motel but instead you managed to miss your stop and got dropped off in the middle of nowhere. This would've been fine if it wasn't the last bus scheduled for the night and you weren't suffering from the effects of jetlag after leaving the states for a job you didn't even want in the first place, you tried calling a cab but your phone couldn't pick up a signal.

A lot of the night was a haze. Most of it was spent walking in the dark until you found a manor, then you decided that going inside would be a great idea, then you fell asleep in said manor, and now here you are awake in the manor. You grabbed your phone off the stand beside the bed and realised it was dead before taking it and sliding out of the bed. A sudden loud noise came from downstairs and really woke you up.

You'd been so caught up in your thoughts that you didn't realise someone was standing right next to the bed, until you looked over and saw the towering figure of a masked man. You tried to scream but before you knew it you were waking up again with a raging headache and your arms bound behind a wooden column. You tried to scan your surroundings but it was too dark to see anything, now this place was really giving you horror movie vibes and you weren't going to be the final girl after this.

The ropes around your wrists were starting to burn as you continued to struggle against them, biting your lip as the pain got stronger. You let out a frustrated groan and slammed your back into the column. "Hello!" You yelled out. Now you were 100% certain that somebody was home, what if they were watching? "I swear my damn arms are gonna fall off." You felt the ropes loosen as your arms moved a little more freely but you were still stuck.

"Don't." You stopped and looked up. The light flicked on and a familiar figure stood a few feet away from you just staring at your helpless position on the floor. "You'll hurt yourself." He got closer and you continued trying to free yourself from the ropes as he got on his knees and was only inches away from your face, you hadn't realised he was wearing a mask this entire time - of course, this was the first time you were able to get a proper look at his face. You felt the ropes slip and one of your arms was free but the man was too distracted to realise this as you freed your second arm and held the rope in place. He stroked your cheek and tilted his head slightly, his cold touch made you cringe and he pulled back for a second before continuing. You could hear him whispering something under that creepy mask. "Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N."

You almost didn't realise you had kicked him until he fell back, your delayed reaction wasn't enough to help you successfully escape as he was onto you the second you had stood up, pulling you back down as you screamed for help even though you knew nobody could hear you. He dragged you over to a small bed in the corner of the room and threw you onto it, you tried to get off but he was on top of you before you could make another move. Through that mask of his you could see his eyes, they looked desperate and hungry for something.

"Are you going to kill me?" His expression softened at those words but he gripped your arms tighter just in case you used this as a chance as to attempt another escape but instead you just watched him, expecting him to either wrap his hands around your neck or maybe stab you but he just watched you.

"Why would I hurt my pretty Y/N?"

You felt your heart stop and your chest ache at the same time. "Who are you?" You tried to wiggle free from his grip but he wasn't letting you go anywhere.

"Brahms."

--

You were supposed to be preparing lunch but you couldn't focus. You don't know how many days or weeks or even months have passed by now but somehow you were still alive. Brahms wasn't shy to show his obvious feelings towards you just hoping that maybe one day you'd return them, maybe you'd stop trying to run away if he showed you how loved you were by him. Brahms hasn't stopped trying to prove to you that you don't need anyone but him, especially considering that he was the only person you were going to be seeing for the rest of your life.

While Brahms wasn't afraid to show you that he loved you, you weren't afraid to show him how much you hated him - although, you weren't exactly sure why you acted that way. Sure, you were pissed that you ended up getting held hostage by a captor who wears a creepy mask the night you arrived in a new country but there was something about him that made you want to stay. In fact, you hadn't attempted another escape in what felt like forever. You didn't want to hate Brahms but there was a part of you forcing yourself to - maybe it was because you didn't want to admit that you had developed feelings for him.

You had no idea if Brahms noticed that your hatred for him was just a façade now. At night he'd cuddle up to you and you wouldn't try to fight him off like you used to, you also stopped ignoring him anytime he came into a room but that didn't mean you were getting friendly with him. Neither of you had gotten to that point in this unlikely 'friendship' where you felt like you could tell this man anything but you did wonder what would happen if you just told him. Sighing, you turned around and bumped into none other than Brahms.

Gasping, you quickly apologised and tried to run off somewhere but he grabbed your upper arm and held you in place. Looking up at him through the eyeholes of at mask you waited for him to tell you that he was hungry but instead he just looked at you. "What is it, Brahms?"

"Come with me." He didn't wait before he dragged you out of the kitchen and eventually you were both outside that loft when Brahms slammed your back into one of the walls. You groaned and cringed in pain before looking at up Brahms.

"What the hell was that-" Brahms threw a hand over your eyes and you froze when you felt hot breath on your neck. "Brahms?" You shook your head, trying to get Brahms to remove his hand from your face but it wouldn't budge as you suddenly felt his lips on your neck leaving light kisses heading up towards your jaw, sucking and biting on the areas. You bit your lip and tried not to react while also focusing on the sensation of his chapped yet soft lips against your skin. You felt your body moving on your own as you tried to get closer to Brahms needing a bit of friction to continue but he denied it and continued his little act before moving away for a brief moment then connecting his lips to yours. Taken aback, you hesitated trying to figure out whether you should kiss him back but before you knew it you'd lost control and your lips were moving in sync with his.

Brahms wanted to feel your body, to explore it, but he couldn't with one hand hiding himself you and the other clutching the mask. He wanted to drop it, shatter that porcelain thing into pieces just so you could see who he truly was without any restrictions. If you reacted badly then glue could fix the mask but nothing could fix what was your relationship.

Just as the two of you were getting into it Brahms broke away and you took that moment to catch your breath before Brahms removed his hand and you could see him readjusting that porcelain mask of his as you turned to run and find your way out of the walls but you stopped when you heard his voice. "Y/N I know you love me." You stopped and heard gentle movements behind you before Brahms appeared in front of you. "You do love me, right?"

You looked up at him with wide eyes at the realisation that he knew that you'd let your guard down ages ago, and you clearly didn't just kiss him for no reason. It was so damn obvious but you still wanted to say no. "Yes." dammit. Brahms looked at you as if he was waiting for you to say something else but you couldn't find the right words. Taking a breath and looking him dead in the eyes you finally spoke. "I. . .I-"

He got closer to you. "Tell me you love me, Y/N." Something within him seemed desperate as he tried to close in the small space between the two of you until your chests were almost connected. "Y/N?"

"I love you Brahms." You don't know exactly what you'd expected in that moment, maybe a hug? Did you expect him to cry? Whatever wholesome reaction you waited for from him never came. Instead, Brahms stuck a hand out for you and you took it without really thinking much of it as he slowly lead you into the loft. Although he was taking his time there was a sense of desperation circling him as he sat down longways on the bed and pulled you onto his lap and held onto you, his hands moving down to your lower back. This whole time his eyes were on you and your eyes were on him. "Brahms?"

"Mhmm?" He hummed, his hands now playing with the bottom of your shirt.

You leaned in close to Brahms' ear and whispered. "If we're going to do this, then I want to at least be able to see who's fucking me." You pulled away and planned to make eye contact with Brahms again but you barely got the chance before he switched the position.

"No." You felt your stomach churn as he said it, his voice had dropped as if he were pissed off but there was still a playful tinge behind it. Brahms wasted no time ripping your shirt off and bringing his masked face down to yours and kissing you through the mask. Suddenly he pulled away and reached over underneath his pillow and you threw your head back and watched as he pulled out a long piece of fabric. "Do you trust me?"

You were hesitant for a few seconds as Brahms messed around with the makeshift blindfold, still waiting for your reply. "Please, Y/N. I promise I'll make you feel good." He whined but you didn't need to be asked twice as you sat up and Brahms covered your eyes with the fabric and tied it off behind your head and pushed you back down onto the bed. You heard a light clank and tried to peak under the fabric to catch a glimpse of Brahms without that creepy mask on but all you saw was his head of dark curly hair as he began planting kisses, making his way down to your core.

Brahms woke up and immediately looked down at the girl in his arms and smiled under his mask and held back the urge to caress her face or move the hair away from her eyes, afraid he'd wake her. Y/N shifted her weight in her sleep and cuddled into Brahms' chest as he continued to hold onto her not daring to move. He wanted to laugh, cry tears of joy, because he really couldn't believe that he finally had the one thing he'd wanted ever since his own parents stopped treating him like their son, he finally had someone who loved him. "You're finally mine, Y/N."  He whispered and nuzzled his face into her hair.

[evilzoldyck]

Goosebumps

You should have taken the offer to go through the Haunted House together with your friend. The ominously decorated attraction that appeared fun and harmless from the entrance now became unnerving as you lonely walked down the hall, hands gripping tightly to your chest. It was your friends’ idea to visit this low-key haunted amusement located in the middle of nowhere, deep into the woods and far from the metropolitan area where the main entertainment took place.

Initially, you were opposed to the idea as the infamous ‘Haunted House’ your friends extolled was too far away and thus didn’t carry any signal in the area. Also, the ticket fee for one was way too pricy that it was enough to sour your night despite one of your friends, Jay, offering to spot you in which you politely declined.

The drive was far and so the place was about to close up soon when you arrived and after seeing all your friends’ enthusiasm in the pursuit for adrenaline, you couldn’t help but feel guilty for bringing the mood down. In the end you acquiesced, paid the fee and entered the house at your own discretion.

You thought it was ridiculous that company made you sign a contact beforehand, something about promising not to sue or whatever. You knew it was all just an act to heighten the customers’ anxiety instead of an actual legal precaution. Things wouldn’t be so bad inside as it was policy that their employees mustn’t directly touch or use an object to make physical contact with the customers.

However as of right now, you wished you could take those words back. For an underground seasonal business, they’ve managed to pull off an incredible event. The house was situated like a maze in which each room had a different elaborated concept which sometimes included your participation to get to the next stage.

The last room included a very convincing Witch with decent prosthetic makeup on her face and a shrilling laugh concocting a death potion in her black rusty cauldron. She instructed that you bring her the eyes of a goat, toad spit and a rotting tooth in return for your life, which generally meant she’ll show the exit. The challenge was a bit stress inducing as her ‘un-dead servants’ kept trying to grab at you while she wickedly reminded you to hurry up or else she would feed you to them.

In just a few minutes you’ve managed to collect all the ingredients, thankfully the spit and the eyes came in a jar. She begrudgingly took them from your hands and pointed to you a hidden exit before her servants came running at you in full speed, making you stumble into the small door and closing them shut. You could still hear her laughter through the door as you heaved out a sigh. Though your blood was pumping and your heart was beating out of your chest, it was a scare that left a smile on your face. Perhaps you now saw the appeal of haunted houses and rollercoasters.

In the end of a long narrow corridor was a red door. The sign underneath a glowing green exit read another in ‘blood’ to push hard for the ghosts in the mansion wishes to keep you here forever. You let out a small laugh and began to push at the handle, frowning when it wouldn’t budge. Putting all your weight against the door you whined when you made no progress.

Feeling chills down your spine, you grumbled at your Halloween costume, it didn’t help either that the place went crazy with the AC and the fog machine. Fixing your bloodied nurse outfit down and rubbing your arms to soothe the biting cold, you turned around and jumped back slightly in surprise at the sight of someone else with you.

A tall and large-build man stood imposingly from behind you. He wore dark pants and a single sleeveless shirt that was so thin you could make out the shadows of his bulging muscles and pectorals which made you blush and look away for a second. Either he was very serious about his character concept or he was just built like a Greek god. You cleared your throat and reverted your gaze to see that he was holding a large blood stained machete and a mask to cover his face.

“Um could you help me?” while pointing at the door you managed to ask guessingly. “What do you need to me to?” You asked once again, figuring out this was supposed to be the last challenge. However the man didn’t say anything, he just stared at you through the mask and though you couldn’t clear see his line of sight, you felt him raking his eyes up and down your body.

Growing uncomfortable at the stifling silence, you see a glint in his hand which revealed to be a key that he was holding. “Is that the key?” you hopefully questioned as you reached out for the key, knowing you won’t get a response anyway. “May I-“ you gasped when he held it out of your reach suddenly. You wore a tiny smile as you played this rather childish game, reaching out and jumping on your toes as he held it high above his head. You could feel the deep reverberations of his chest as he chuckled at your feeble attempts.

It was at that time you noticed you were far too close to him. Letting out another sharp gasp, the man pulled you close to him by the waist. With your hands to his chest, you could feel his strained muscles from underneath his shirt; his thumb softly rubbing your hips. You were sure this guy just violated one of the rules of this place.

When you were about to push him away, he brought the key close to your face finally allowing you to take it. Squeaking out a small ‘thank you’, you felt his grip reluctantly loosened as you turned back to the door to hastily unlock it. You noticed he was still boring his eyes into you as you closed the door from behind, not making a single movement as he stoically watched you close it. Stepping into the cool night air, you shrugged the strange the interaction off and decided against reporting him to the place. You didn’t really want to deal with the confrontation.

You heard a call of your name from the distance and smiled in relief. Reuniting with your friends around the car you joyously shared tales of your experiences inside. “I don’t know how you did it alone, I was with Mina and I almost went crazy.” Your friend Leigh-Anne exasperated, holding her hand into her still pounding heart.

“You should have gone with us!” Mina quipped. “I nearly socked the clown when he came out of the box- and when he came charging towards us I swear I nearly fainted.”

“Well you were fine enough to run and leave me behind!” jested Leigh-Anne, “you closed the door while the clown was still chasing after me. My heart was about to burst at that moment.”

“For real we were screaming so much you’d think an actual murder was taking place.” She sighed. “But it’s not as crazy as you two,” Mina pointed to you and Jay. “How could you both go alone?” you shrugged at her question and replied that you wanted to make the experience scarier for you as Jay agreed. Now thinking about it, maybe going as a group would make it more fun.

“The last one though,” you trailed. “Don’t you think it was a little weird?”

“The Witch?” Jay asked, raising a brow.

“No the last one, just by the exit.” You clarified to your friends, pointing at the door where you just left. However their expressions didn’t shift. “You know the guy with the machete and a mask? He was the one that held the key.” Your friends continued to look at you like you grew a head. You furrowed your brows in confusion. “You couldn’t possibly miss him he was so tall and huge.”

“There was no one there,” Mina laughed. “The exit was unlocked anyway why would there be a key?”

“I didn’t see anyone either on my turn too, the Witch just pointed the way out then it was over.”

“Holy shit, did you see an actual ghost then?”

“What? No, no he was real.” You awkwardly chuckled along. “Are you guys being serious right now?”

“That’s three to one, you’re being haunted.” Leigh-Anne made spooky noises and played with your hair teasingly as you rolled your eyes light-heartedly. When the lights finally shut from the establishment you all made a move to get inside the car.

“He was there.” You enunciated once more before getting inside.

“I believe you,” playfully sang Jay from the drivers seat.

The moon was at its peak, shining so brightly it made the drive just a bit easier without the streetlights to assist. Your friends were still happily engaging on sharing the stories of the place, occasionally making jokes at you and the mysterious ‘masked ghost’. Waving them off you returned your attention back on the window, it just came to you how deep inside the forest you were as trees were all your eyes could see. Not a moment later the car suddenly stopped as the engine sputtered and died out.

Jay cursed and propped the hood open before letting out another curse. “Um I’m going to go back and get help. Something wrong with the battery.” He quickly explained as he retrieved a flashlight from the glove compartment, getting ready to sprint.

“Wait! I’ll come with you,” you offered, getting out of the car. Jay refused, saying it would be quicker if he went alone. “You calling me slow?!” you called out as he was already far into the distance.

“There’s a reason why I was school’s best track and field and you weren’t!” you heard his faint yet breathy voice retaliate back at you as you scoff out a laugh at his remark.

Half an hour went by and you all started to get worried when he didn’t return. “I’m going after him,” you finally stated, getting ready to get out and run. Mina stated that she’ll go too while Leigh-Anne stayed back, suggesting that someone should stay in the car in case he came back.

Trekking down the road with your hand in hers MIna suddenly asked, “you know when you said you saw someone else in the Haunted House back then,” you hummed back in reply. “You were just joking right?” She gripped your hand tightly as you looked at her worried face. “It was just a joke to rile us up, there wasn’t actually a huge masked man with a machete?”

Knowing full well what she wanted to hear you replied back, “yeah of course.” Nonchalantly shrugging it off like it was nothing. “It was a poor joke now that I think about it.” Guilt tugged at your insides but you knew you couldn’t scare her even more, now that you were all at an extremely unpredictable environment.

You heard her sigh in relief and hugged your sides, “I knew it. You’re such a bad liar.” You weakly laughed at her jest and tried to push the thoughts of the strange man away. When you finally arrived back to the place it looked like a proper abandoned house. All the lights were off, you should’ve expected that as it was way past their opening hours, but all the cars that you assumed were the employees’ were gone too. You and Mina knocked on every door and window to get a response but your own voices echoed back at the empty place.

What’s stranger is that you couldn’t find Jay anywhere too. His flashlight, however, was found on the ground near the exit of the house. You figured there was no way that he could have went inside for all the doors and windows were barricaded shut. After a good twenty minutes of searching around the perimeters of where he could have gone, you and Mina decided to get back to the car with a heavy heart. The walk was fast but silent, neither of you had anything to say to each other.

It was when you saw the car with one of the door opened that you two began running towards it. “Leigh-Anne?” Mina gasped at the sight of the empty car. “What’s going on?” she exclaimed, tears springing up her eyes and as you were about to reply, you finally saw him. The masked man from the Haunted House with his machete freshly coated in blood, stalking leisurely towards the both of you. Mina turned and widened her eyes at the sight, grabbing her hand in yours you both made a run for it into the woods.

Breathing heavily through your nose you could hear his boots thumping against the ground, his speed gaining close to you both. At one point you both let go of each other’s hands to run faster and soon you couldn’t hear or see her anymore.

 Knowing better than to call out her name and give out your location you began to look at your surroundings but it was so, so frustratingly dark. The kind of darkness that made your head ache from trying to see anything. The moonlight couldn’t offer any help for the trees’ thick foliage covered it all. Your eyes couldn’t make out anything and only when you heard Mina’s terrifying screams and a sudden silence through the dense forest did you find the strength to keep running.

Tears stung your eyes while your lungs burned like fire from overexertion. Tripping on a rock, you sobbed out a pathetic weep as you crawled forwards, not doubting that your knee was badly scraped in the process. Seeing as you were grabbing onto rocks, you glanced up to find a raging river in front of you.

Thick pairs of hands grabbed at your sides making you scream in response, kicking away at your assailant and scratching at his arms. The man grunted as he pinned your arms down with one hand swiftly and locked your legs together with his thighs. It was only then could you see your perpetrator clearly, his green eyes wide and dilated as he took in your form. Your breath was caught in your throat at how truly menacing he was up close. There was blood sprayed on his white mask and the smell of him thick with iron and sweat. For a moment you were paralysed with fear as he studied your face, fingers trailing your wet cheek softly along with your lips and nose.

The man came closer and placed his head between your breasts, breathing in the scent of you deeply. He must’ve lost himself in you for a moment as he caressed the curves of your body, relaxing his other grip on your hands. You made a quick decision to grasp onto a nearby stone to hit him straight on his temple. The man grunted in pain from your attack but didn’t fall in the end, your heart was at your throat when you realised you had messed up perhaps your only chance to escape. He glared angrily down at you and when you attempt at another swing, he blocked it by capturing your small wrists in his strong calloused ones.

“Agh!” you cried when he broke it with a simple squeeze, letting the rock fall from your hand. Nevertheless, that didn’t relent you from trying to fight him as you squirmed in his powerful hold. It was as if he knew that you weren’t planning to stop fighting him did he pick up the same rock you used to hit him with to successfully knock you out in one swift strike.

Groaning softly in pain, you feel yourself move through the air by a pair of secure arms. Looking ahead of you with your blurry vision, you saw the man stare ahead at a light that slowly came into view. There was a cabin dimly lit inside, tucked deep into the forestry and not that far from the river. You couldn’t bear to take a guess of what’s to happen to you the next time you woke up and so you let sleep cloud your consciousness instead.

[im-totally-not-an-alien]

He was riding out from Midgar after just dropping off a package to a worker there. His next stop was to the W.R.O. to drop off a rather large parcel, though, why they needed so much of these things so quickly was anyone's guess.

He hadn't been riding long before the ground shook beneath him, pulling him from his thoughts. He wasn't concerned though, the entire Midgar area had been having earthquakes often lately, though no one can seem to figure out why. They've all been pretty small and haven't done any significant damage so most people choose to ignore it. Another earthquake hit, jarring him slightly, but he paid it no mind.

Suddenly the ground gave out beneath him, abruptly dropping him into the green depths below. Cloud groaned, holding onto Fenrir for dear life, "...not again."

********************************************

"Cloud is so dead." The trooper deadpanned, eyes wide with shock.

"Oh gods! What do we do?!" The second trooper freaked out beside him, He clutched his head, panicking as swarms of other troopers ran around the Midgar wastes, frantic. The recent monster attack still had everyone agitated.

They stood there for a few moments just staring at the green pool of mako. The same one they were told to 'watch out' for so they wouldn't 'fall in'.

"Hey guys! What'cha staring at?" A voice asked from behind them.

The two troopers whirled around to face a SOLDIER 2nd class, "Hey what's the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost!"

The second trooper went hysterical, begging for forgiveness, "I swear we didnt mean to! I got distracted and bumped into him! And! And..." he looked forward the green pool.

The spiky haired 2nd followed thier gaze and just stared for a few moments before something clicked and a flash of realization lit up his eyes.

"Shit!" He jumped in, startling everyone around them into a new frenzy. A few calling out to "Get commander Hewley!"

After a few moments Zack resurfaced with a little blond trooper in his arms.

"Zack!" A tall muscular man raced towards him.

Zack paid him no mind as he quickly crawled out of the mako pool and laid Cloud on the dusty ground of the Midgar wasteland, before immediately turning around and walking back torwards the pool.

Commander Hewley grabbed Zacks wrist, "Zack! What the hell do you think you're doing?" He bellowed, eyes wide with concern.

"There's someone else down there Angeal! I saw them!" Zack struggled to get out of his grip, "We have to help him!"

Before he could make a counter argument, however, the mako pool started bubbling. The bubbles growing into a mound and growing more ferocious by the second. People were standing stock still staring at it in wonder before something large and black blasted out of the pool. The object flew over thier heads effortlessly, landing several meters away from them.

"What the hell?" Angeal could only stare, as the dust settled and the shock wore off.

"Oh Gaia! Is that a motorcycle?!" Zack yelled enthusiastically, running over to the now idled bike, whose rider was slumped over clutching thier head.

Angeal took a few minutes to process the scene. The man didn't seem to be armed, despite the mess of sword harnesses on his back, but how long was he in that pool and why? Did he fall in? When? What's in the crate strapped to his bike? He figured he might as well walk over and save the man before his student drives him insane. When he got there however the man was staring at Zack as though he hung the moon and stars. Zack didnt seem to notice and kept babbling on about how cool motorcycles are and that Shinra was there for a training exercise with the troopers.

"Am I dead?" The man suddenly asked, causing Zacks mouth to click shut in bafflement.

"No? Why would you think that?" Zack asked, tilting his head.

"You just...look like someone I used to know." The blond sheepishly replied.

"Oh, guess I should introduce myself then! I'm Zack Fair, SOLDIER 2nd Class!" He flashed the blond a mock salute.

The man's face paled and Angeal's eyes narrowed in response. This man was hiding something. "Strife. Just...Strife." Strife introduced. Yeah, definitely hiding something.

"Well, Strife," he spoke up, grabbing the blondes attention, "You mind answering a few questions?" Strife's face went blank, but he nodded all the same.

"Good. Come with me." Angeal turned towards camp, not bothering to see if they were following.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

"So. You were suddenly attacked by a monster and drove into the mako pool on accident?" Angeal asked, incredulous.

"That's what I just said." The blond huffed. He shifted in the metal fold-up chair in the commander's tent.

"Why didnt you drive out? You've already shone you could have." He questioned.

"I hit my head on the landing. I woke up when I heard yelling."

"Oh, that makes sense!" Zack helpfully replied, "We must have woke you up when we were yelling about that trooper." He smiled. "Wait! You said your name was Strife right?" Strife shifted in his seat again but reluctantly nodded. "You wouldn't happen to be related to Cloud Strife would you? You look so much like him!" Angeal stared at him, his interest peaked.

"Mabey. I don't really know if I have any living relatives." Strife shrugged. Angeal begrudgingly accepted this.

"Cool! I'll take you to him when he wakes up!" Zack excitedly exclaimed, "Spike is gonna freak when he sees his cool biker cousin!"

Angeal gave him a look. "Cousin?"

Zack shrugged, "Figured it was as close as were gonna get untill we know for sure."

"Spike?" Strife asked.

"Yeah! You should see his hair! He would totally poke an eye out!" Zack boasted merrily, earning a soft smile from the blond.

"You're one to talk, you have an entire arsenal. " Zacks jaw dropped and Angeal turned his face away, his gloved hand covering his smirk, "He's got you there, Zack."

"Hey! Angeal! Who's side are you on?!"

Angeal crossed his arms, "I wasnt aware there were sides."

Strife just sat there smirking.

"So Strife," Angeal started, "Where are you from?"

Strife's smirk dropped, "Up north."

"Like near the icicle area?" Zack asked.

"Yeah. But I mostly travel around with Fenrir. I deliver packages sometimes, and I'm trying to make it into a legitimate business." Strife pulled out a black business card from seemingly nowhere and handed it to Angeal. On it was a motorcycle that looked similar to the one outside the tent. And below it in gold letters read: Strife delivery service.

"Huh." Was Angeal's only reply.

"My number is on the back." Angeal flipped it over and, sure enough, it was there. "Would you mind if I kept this?" He asked.

Strife raised an eyebrow, "That is what business cards are for."

Angeal shook his head, but before he could respond the tent flap was opened, revealing a trooper with a red scarf in salute "Excuse me commander, sir."

Angeal sighed, whatever he was about to say slipped his mind as he addressed the trooper. "At ease." Angeal waited for him to get into parade rest before asking, "What do you need?"

"I've come to inform you that the drills have been completed and that Cloud Strife has awakened, as per your request." Angeal nodded, "Thank you, you are dismissed."

The trooper nodded and gave a quick "Sir!" before he left.

Before Angeal could react, Zack had grabbed Strife's arm and all but dragged the startled man out of the tent. Angeal chuckled, then went to follow them.

Angeal soon found them in the infirmary tent, the smaller Strife was sitting on a cot while the men stood on either side, both blonds looked uncomfortable while the pup chattered on. "Zack." He warned.

"Angeal!" Zack shouted excitedly. Angeal absently wondered if he could see a wagging tail if he looked hard enough, "See how similar they look? These two chocobos could have hatched from the same egg!" He proudly proclaimed.

"Hey!" Both blonds shouted at the same time, "Err-um. Sorry sir." The smaller one said, suddenly more nervous than before.

Zack just waved him off, "Naw, it's my fault for insulting you in the first place."

Cloud looked taken aback, as though no one had ever apologized for wronging him before. Angeal suddenly felt protective of the boy. By the looks of it, Strife was feeling the same way.

Strife suddenly popped out one of his business cards and handed it to the smaller blond. "I heard that it was thanks to you and your friend here that I was saved. I owe you both. Seriously."

"W-What? He's not my-!" Cloud began only to be stopped by Zacks dramatic gasp, "I save your life and this is how you repay me? By denying our friendship?" He placed his hand over his chest in a mock expression of hurt.

Cloud looked horrified, "Wait. No- that's not what I-"

"Zack, that's enough," Angeal cut in. "You're going to give him a panic attack."

Zack frowned and scratched the back of his head, "Sorry, I was just playing, I didnt mean to scare you."

"It's fine." The small blond murmered into his scarf.

Angeal looked over to Strife, who had been quiet this whole time. Strife sat silently, with only the smallest upturn of his lips to show his amusement. Angeal was struck by how much Strife resembled Sephiroth in that moment and decided to file that information away for later.

Strife noticed Angeal staring at him and took that as his que to cut off Zacks attempts of consolation. "So, as I was saying, if you ever need anything. Just call." He flicked another card torwards Zack, who caught it easily. Strife pat Cloud on the head, much to the others dismay. "Stay safe."

Cloud blinked owlishly at him before nodding once, full of fire and determination.

Strife got up and pulled something from his pocket. "Hold out your hands."

Both Zack and Cloud looked confused, but complied anyway, which earned them a little red marble in their hands.

"What? No way! I love you man!" Zack glomped the poor man, sending him staggering back a step.

Angeal noted that this man was able to take the full force of one of Zacks infamous tackle hugs and not be knocked onto his back. He had noticed a mako glow in his eyes before, but had wrote it off as a side effect from his time in the spring. Now he wasn't so sure.

"What is it?" The younger blond asked.

"It's a summon materia." Angeal answered, "If you feed MP into it, it will summon a monster to fight for you. They tend to be very rare."

The little blond looked surprised, "And you're just giving it to me? Why?"

Strife shook his head. "I want you to be safe. I've never..." he cut himself off, "you're my cute little cousin now. I need to look out for you."

The trooper turned an impressive shade of read and sputtered as Strife fled the tent. "Their names are Alexander and Knights of the Round, by the way."

Angeal groaned. Genesis had been looking for Knights of the Round for quite some time. He was going to have one hell of a time keeping Gen away from the kid. Not to mention he needed to fill out the paperwork for the kid to use it in combat.

The roar of a motorcycle cut through his thoughts.

Zack turned to the smaller blond. "Let's get you a bracer chickabo!"

The resulting squak made him laugh.

[aliceslantern]

Give/Take, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 14

Ienzo has been too busy since the war to be overwhelmed by the past. But with little progress to be made in his work with Kairi, old nightmares start to invade.

Riku is a glorified housesitter. Lonely and faced with no choice but to wait for a way to find his friends, he eagerly accepts when Ienzo asks him to help do repairs around the castle. Before long, the two strike up an unlikely friendship, united by their dark pasts and their attempts to be better people.

But just as they begin to consider something more... Kairi wakes up.

Ienzoku (Ienzo/Riku), post-Melody of Memory, slow burn. Updates Thursdays until it's done.

Chapter summary:  Ienzo and Riku continue to pass the time together. Ienzo realizes something about their relationship.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

The next few days settled into a mostly peaceful rhythm. Riku showed him more of the island sights; they spent most of a full day with Kairi shopping in the bazaar. Ienzo met a few more of Riku’s other friends as well, and like his parents, they were somewhat mystified by his “alien” presence. Already Even had messaged him asking him when he would be done “lazing about” and when he could be expected back, but Ienzo hadn’t responded. He didn’t want to think about Radiant Garden right now.

He knew at some point he’d have to tell Riku the whole ugly truth of his past, and while he knew Riku was unlikely to vilify him for it, he nonetheless wasn’t looking forward to it. He was content in their soft, sweet bubble, in this reality that they were just a normal couple.

They made out often and tried touching each other several more times, and each time Ienzo would draw so awfully close to just coming already. Riku tried doing it a few different ways, but it really did seem to be his mind stopping it all from… functioning. Ienzo wondered if at some point he’d just get so pent up his body would win the fight. He hoped it would happen soon; all of these hours spent getting hot and bothered and going nowhere was practically making him ache.

Riku said that day was “cooler”, so they would go to this mysterious falls at last. “It’s a hike, but an easy one,” he told Ienzo. They took the bus (which itself was a fascinating and strangely nostalgic experience; he couldn’t be sure if he had vague memories of taking a streetcar with Even) to the trailhead, and when Ienzo looked up at the incline he almost balked. At least this all seemed to be shaded by trees. This might be easy for Riku, who was physically fit and had probably gone through far harder on his journeys.

But Ienzo was a sedentary researcher.

Noticing his trepidation, Riku squeezed his hand. “I promise the first part’s the hardest, and then it all gets really gradual. It’s worth it, I swear.”

“It better be. You may be carrying me out on a stretcher.”

True to form, the first incline was utterly nightmarish. Between the humid air and his general softness, Ienzo was struggling to breathe, and he felt like a quitter every time he had to ask for a break. There was not a part of him that wasn’t sweaty, and he found himself glad he’d actually bought a pair of decent climbing shoes like Riku had advised. He actually felt dizzy. At the top, he had to sit and rest against a rock. Riku didn’t even look out of breath. “You okay?” he asked, cautiously.

“I’m alive,” Ienzo said, still gasping. “Barely.” Once he had caught some semblance of breath, and drank down some water, they kept going. It was easier, but not as easy as he’d hoped, and he found it hard to appreciate the wildlife. Ienzo tried to push through the pain. At first he thought the noise he heard came from his heart throbbing in his ears, but it turned out to be the falls. At last, at long last, they reached the peak.

And Ienzo understood. “Oh,” he said, softly.

“It’s thought that the islands formed out of the magma from volcanic explosions,” Riku said, in a low voice. “That volcano is right there. But over time… and I’m sure you understand the science of it better than I do, the volcano became a spring.”

“Oh,” Ienzo said, utterly losing eloquence. Suddenly it didn’t matter that he was hot and sweaty and nauseous and his legs would be aching for days.

He’d seen a lot in his days as Zexion. But again, he’d never been there to be a tourist, to appreciate the worlds he was trying to strike down.

There were crystal and mineral patterns in the falls caldron all the way down, in at least a dozen colors, glimmering faintly in the diffuse sunlight. The freshwater flowed from the top, almost deafeningly loud, to a large pool at the bottom, the water a slight bluish color from the minerals. Ienzo could see a manmade path weaving all the way down, a wooden safety rail lining it. The water washed up onto a shore of black sand.

Riku took out his phone. “Want a picture of you with it?”

“I’m sure I look awful.”

“You look like you’ve conquered something.”

Ienzo rolled his eyes. “Only if you’ll join me.”

It took a bit of fineagaling to get an image that was halfway decent. This settled, they started making their way down. “Weird, normally this place is packed,” Riku said. Only a few people were down swimming in the caldron. “Oh well. I won’t question it.”

“It’s the semifinals,” Ienzo said. “Your father was talking about it.”

He laughed. “Design by accident.”

The walk down was fairly easy, but Ienzo dreaded the climb up, then down again. He’d worn his bathing suit, at least. They had a quick, simple lunch. At least here by the water it was mercifully cool, and Ienzo nearly moaned aloud when they finally eased in. Considering it was springwater, it was cold, but a welcome cold. The water had a slightly metallic tang against his lips.

“Worth it after all?” Riku asked, smirking.

“God, yes.”

They floated here a while, just enjoying the water and each other’s company. Eventually Ienzo felt brave enough to explore by the falls, where the water got deeper. The mist threw up so much light that the bands of rock glimmered.

At some point they had to leave, though, and by that point with the hike up and the swimming Ienzo was exhausted. Considering aside from the climb out of the caldron it was all basically downhill, Ienzo hoped this would be easier.

It wasn’t. This side of the trail was less shaded, for example, and the heat felt all the more brutal now that he was reasonably cool. His calves were starting to cramp, his nausea had returned, and now on top of it he was starting to feel weirdly faint, trying to figure out why.

“Ienzo?” Riku prompted, but his voice sounded like it was underwater.

The next thing he was aware of, his head was in Riku’s lap and there was a cold cloth over his face. Riku was on the phone, his voice shaky. “Yeah, dad, the trailhead. No, I don’t think I need any help. Thanks a bunch.”

He blinked and tried to sit up, feeling weaker still.

“Easy. Easy. I thought the stretcher thing was a joke.”

“It was,” Ienzo said. “I’m sorry. I’m fine now.”

“No, you’re not,” Riku said, sternly. “You’ve got heat exhaustion. If you keep pushing it it’ll get worse. Drink this.” He handed him a bottle of water. “You’re probably dehydrated too.” He dabbed the sweat off of Ienzo’s face.

Ienzo did, realizing how thirsty he was. “I tried to be careful.”

“No, it’s my fault. The island heat really is brutal, and you’re not used to exercise like that.” He sighed. “Even if you were careful your body still got overwhelmed.”

“And not in the way I’d like,” he muttered.

“Gather your strength for a few minutes. I used Cure on you, but you should still take it easy. My dad’ll drive us back. I wonder if we should take you to a doctor--”

Ienzo felt mortified. “I don’t think that’s necessary. The bus is fine.”

“I don’t want us to wait out in the heat more than we have to.”

Ienzo exhaled. Somehow this felt like another thing he had failed at.

“Really, Ienzo, this even happens to islanders,” Riku tried to reassure him. “I should’ve known better.”

“At least we got a pretty picture out of it.”

When he was finally strong enough to carry on, it felt late. They weren’t all that far from the road at this point. Riku had wanted to carry him, but Ienzo drew the line there. He was more grateful than he wanted to let on that Matsuda was waiting for them.

“Hey, you’re a true islander now,” his father said, in an attempt to lighten the mood. “It’s happened to all of us at some point or another.”

“I told you,” Riku said.

Ienzo wished he could enjoy riding in a car more. It was smaller, lower to the ground, than the bus, and much cooler inside. “Thanks for this. I’m sorry to interrupt your workday.”

“Ah, I had to run an errand anyway,” he said blithely. “You don’t think we need to go to the--”

“No, no, please, I’ll be alright,” Ienzo said quickly.

Ienzo was still feeling a bit dizzy. He had to cling to the banister to get up the stairs. Riku insisted he lie down. His skin felt hot, strangely enough. Riku tugged the curtains shut. He heard Riku leave the room and then come back a few moments later with something pink in a mason jar. “Here. This’ll help. Mom’s recipe. It happens all the time to the neighborhood kids.”

Ienzo sipped. He tasted more coconut, some other fruit, and below it all the oily slickness of potion. “I’m so sorry. I ruined the day.”

“No, this is on me. I should’ve known you’d push yourself and not say anything, cause I would’ve done the same thing.” He sighed. “Drink it all. I’ll get you more.”

The juice helped, though he didn’t feel good by any stretch. He wanted to get changed, to get cleaned up, but he just felt weak and exhausted. “If you’re tired, rest,” Riku told him.

“If you’d rather go do something while I’m just lying here--”

“No,” he said, firmly.

After two jars of the juice, Ienzo fell asleep, and wondered if it was something in the medicine. When he woke at last, he realized it had been hours, and the early morning sun was peeking out between the curtains. Dazedly, he looked around for Riku, found him nowhere.

Groggy, he took a shower and went to take the mason jar back to the main house. True to form, it hurt to walk, and he winced.

“Oh, Ienzo, how are you feeling?” Mariko asked, startling him.

“Much better,” he said. “Thank you for this.”

“I always keep a pitcher of it in the fridge in summer. Sometimes I swear the weather is only getting hotter.” She sighed.

“Where’s Riku?”

“Well, he came down a little while ago asking if I thought you needed anything else. I said maybe something nice for breakfast.” She smiled a little. “He should be back soon. Can I get you anything? Anything at all? You know what, I’ll go make some coffee.” She flounced off into the kitchen, her loose shawl fluttering behind her.

Ienzo found himself again looking at the photos on the mantle. Riku’s parents’ wedding day, photos of a younger Riku in school. Matsuda holding up a large fish, his son grinning toothily, the front two missing.

“...Here you are, dear,” Mariko said.

“Thank you so much,” he said.

“Why don’t we go sit on the patio while we wait? You can see the ocean.”

He followed her. The temperature, for some reason, felt much more bearable, despite the hot coffee. They sat on a pair of wicker chairs facing the small yard.

“Alright?” she asked him.

“I was just thinking it’s no longer so warm.”

She chortled. “That’s not true. You’re just forming a callus.”

“To the heat, you mean?”

“Yes. I thought this might happen. Riku was in a panic, Matsuda wanted to take you to the clinic. I’ve seen this before and I said you’ll be right as rain. And you lived, right?”

Ienzo sipped. “Thank god for that,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“Well. It has been nearly two weeks.”

“Already? The time is flying.” He almost said that if he were too much of a burden he would be happy to go stay elsewhere, but then he remembered that Mariko would find this rude. “Is there anything I can do to thank you for the welcome you’ve given me?”

“That’s not necessary.”

“I insist.”

She thought about it. “How about you make us one of your dinners, from your world? You explained, but I’m dying to know.”

Ienzo smiled. “That I can do.”

They both looked out at the ocean for a few minutes. Finally, Mariko said, “You’ve had a hard life, haven’t you?”

Ienzo looked at her. “What makes you say that?”

“You… and Riku. There’s a certain… darkness, in your eyes. Something a little haunted. At first, with him, I thought it was teenage angst. But I think he’s gone through a lot more than he lets on. You too.”

Ienzo blinked. “I suppose that is true,” he said. “This… beautiful life, the three of you live here. That all feels so abnormal to me.”

She nodded sadly.

“I’m… an orphan,” he admitted. “My adoptive family, well meaning as they initially were, did not raise me to live an average, happy life. It’s making me realize what I’ve missed.”

“I see,” she said. “Well. You’re always welcome in our family.”

Ienzo felt a sudden wave of teariness. “That’s very kind of you.”

After another moment, “you love him, don’t you?”

Ienzo took a quick breath. “I think so.”

She reached over and squeezed his hand once. “You’re good for each other.”

The back door opened. Riku was carrying a paper bag and a drinks carrier with what looked like smoothies. “Oh… Ienzo. You’re up. How do you feel?”

He looked at him. In the early morning sunlight, his silver hair carelessly braided over one shoulder, Ienzo knew. “Better. Much better.”

[serpentinerose]

So I got sad and continued working on my sad Xue Meng piece (”three thousand waters flowing south” on my Ao3) after drinking some of my homemade limoncello because I don’t have White Pear Blossom wine like Xue Meng does

The Red Lotus Pavilion was protected by a barrier. It was Xue Meng’s own work, and it was perhaps not the best barrier possible, but then again, the infamy of the place was enough to deter curious disciples. It was common knowledge that the pavilion was as good as a shrine to the Yuheng Elder, and the Peak Lord’s wrath would befall anyone who dared to enter, Longcheng’s aim truer than the Peak Lord’s feeble barrier attempts.

It made sense, then, that the one person who would dare enter would be there when Xue Meng came.

“Hey,” Mo Ran said from his perch atop the roof, the haitang blossoms overhead shrouding the roof in a blanket of white and light pink. “I thought you would come here.”

“What do you want,” Xue Meng said woodenly. “It’s not your usual visiting time.”

Mo Ran often dropped by in the middle of the night unannounced, taking cover in the darkness ostensibly to deter curious eyes. The life of the reclusive Mo-zongshi in the valleys of Nanping Mountain had agreed with him. Mo Ran’s skin was warmly tanned, his hair long and tied into a simple ponytail, his clothing clean and neatly pressed, the white fabric light in the relatively warm weather. His smile was bright, his handsome face lit up with the force of it, and Xue Meng saw the trace of that stubborn young boy underneath, almost completely eclipsed by the years of change, but still there.

“I went into town for some trades. Thought I would stop by for a bit on my way back home. Brought you something. Catch!”

Xue Meng reached out easily, intercepting that flying object. It was a small bag of dried persimmon, the flesh unctuous and orange, the skin covered in a thin layer of residual sugar from the drying process.

“From our orchards. Shizun dried these himself.”

Despite his inner turmoil, Xue Meng found himself smiling a little, something warm welling up in his chest. “Pass my thanks onto him.”

“Hey, I planted the trees!” Mo Ran complained.

“You don’t need my gratitude,” Xue Meng shot out.

Mo Ran shrugged. “Fair enough.” 

“Did shizun say when he would visit?” Xue Meng asked hopefully.

“Hmm, probably after the harvest,” Mo Ran said musingly. “Maybe it would be better if we just invited you up for the festival. A bit of a change of pace for you.”

“That would be good,” Xue Meng murmured. A change of pace, away from Sisheng Peak, away from acquaintances turned friends turned martyrs. Taking refuge in shizun’s and Mo Ran’s happiness, warming himself by their fire, if only for a brief moment.

Everyone left him in the end, torn apart by death or by their own choices.

He was never going to be anyone’s first choice for company. Perhaps this was always going to be the case.

“What’s wrong?” Mo Ran asked, jumping down from the roof and coming closer to Xue Meng. The water in the lotus ponds was dark with moss, the flowers long gone. The lotus pads were still green, and large water droplets clung onto them like tears on long lashes. Sometimes, the crystalline sound of water falling onto water could be heard, the croaking of a frog in the pond, the whistling of wind through the haitang blossoms, blooming completely out of season.

Xue Meng fingered one dried persimmon, his thumb brushing at the white crystals on the surface, rolling that grittiness between his fingers, knowing that the sweetness would be sticky on his tongue. “Nothing. Just worried. Mei HanXue got injured last night during a spirit capture. It turned out to be a demon.”

Mo Ran’s face was sympathetic, clearly the face of Mozongshi and not of the young man who used to run away from him laughing at the top of Sisheng Peak. “Is he okay? I kind of snooped around a little bit, to be honest… Saw Jiang Yechen leaving, so it must have been serious?”

Xue Meng hesitated before answering. “He’s fine now. Mostly.”

Or at least, that was his conviction. There was no version of this world in which Mei HanXue did not survive.

_______

They ended up by the edge of the lotus pond, their feet bare, submerged in the cold water, dangling. Xue Meng could swear he felt something tickling at the bottom of his foot, likely a fish, and immediately jerked back, pulling his knees to his chest, the position completely undignified for a Sect Leader.

But it was just his cousin here, and perhaps that was the one person with whom he did not need to save face.

“What were you doing running here? You looked like you were going to kill Jiang Xi and Mei Hanxue in the hallway. I had to use qinggong to beat you here when you stalked away like that.”

“I didn’t want to see that manipulative bastard’s face anymore, playing up his illness for attention,” Xue Meng growled lowly, pulling at a lotus stem and tearing it apart in his hands.

“You were jealous of Jiang Xi? Or of Mei Hanxue?” Mo Ran asked, disbelieving. 

“No! Neither!” Xue Meng looked away, feeling utterly ridiculous in front of his cousin. “I was just mad from what he said to me before he left.” 

“Jiang Xi mentioned something about a relationship… what was that all about? Did you…?” Mo Ran leaned in, his eyebrows lifted.

Xue Meng glared at him. “It’s none of your business, and it’s not like that at all. Gross.”

Mo Ran hummed, leaning against the wooden column of the pavilion overhead, his hands clasped behind his head. “If you say so. Listen, I know this feeling stuff is difficult…”

“I’m not feeling anything,” Xue Meng insisted.

“... and that it is really hard to admit that you have feelings…”

“I told you to shut up.”

“... but I’m really glad something is going on with you and those twins, whichever one of them it is…”

“Nothing is going on with anyone,” Xue Meng said vehemently.

“... you’ve been lonely.”

They let the sentence sink in between them.

“I’m not lonely.” Xue Meng threw the lotus stem at Mo Ran’s head, biting his lower lip. There was something heavy in his chest that wanted to be let out, bursting with emotions he could not name.

“I suppose not, given how they are always around,” Mo Ran said meaningfully. “People talk, you know.”

Do they? “What do you know? You live in a cottage in the middle of nowhere,” Xue Meng retorted sulkily. 

“We’re not hermits up there.” Mo Ran threw the lotus stem back, bouncing it off Xue Meng’s chest. “Traveling cultivators, merchants from other regions, from Kunlun and Jiangnan, sometimes we hear things. How Taxue Palace is still seceded from the rest of the cultivation world but for its alliance with Sisheng Peak, how the seat of power is practically empty with Ming Yuelou in seclusion and the twins da-shixiong always at Sect Leader Xue’s sides…”

“Just rumors. We’re friends,” Xue Meng insisted stubbornly.

“You don’t have to be defensive, MengMeng.” Mo Ran seemed contemplative, and in that moment Xue Meng remembered that they were neither of them the angry young boys of before. Too much had already happened, too much blood shed. “To tell you the truth, sometimes I feel really guilty for leaving here.”

As you should, Xue Meng thought, but he refrained from saying anything. What was the point? If they chose to leave, then they chose to leave.

He couldn’t make anyone stay. 

If he wanted something, he would never get it. Such was the way the world worked.

Xue Meng thought about that long, uninterrupted stretch of happiness in his childhood, wondering if he had already used up his allotted amount, if the rest of this lifetime was to be spent in penance for his youthful folly, for the arrogance of being born into a happy family with loving parents.

Mo Ran never had any of that. And now, he had Chu Wanning.

Perhaps it was a fair trade.

“Anyway, it’s not about me,” Mo Ran sighed. Xue Meng stared blindly at his feet underwater, at his cousin’s feet dangling next to his, and thought of how they had both changed in the past ten or so years.

Mo Ran grew up to become Mo-zongshi, the brattiness mellowing out to this gentle wisdom, this warm companionship.

And what of Xue Meng?

“I just wanted you to find happiness, too, MengMeng.” 

“I told you before to not call me that,” Xue Meng said, his mind still far away. The sun would set soon, and Mo Ran would leave again, back to his happy hearth in his happy home where someone would always be waiting for his return. “Do you want to drink?”

“Drink? Now?” Mo Ran blinked. “I don’t see any wine.”

Xue Meng snorted. “There’s always White Pear Blossom at the Red Lotus Pavilion,” he declared, standing up more quickly than he intended to, as if he was running away from something that he knew would mean his ruin. “I’ll go get it. Stay here.”

When he came back and Mo Ran was indeed still there, Xue Meng sighed, let out a breath he had been holding subconsciously all this time, and set a jar of wine between them, two upturned cups ready for the fragrant wine. Xue Meng poured them each a full cup and handed the first one to his cousin. “Ge, here.”

They knocked back the cup at the same time, their long sleeves shielding their faces, and Xue Meng set the cup down heavily, the sound echoed by Mo Ran’s movement. “Don’t drink too much, Xue Meng,” Mo Ran chided gently.

“We’ve only had one cup,” Xue Meng pointed out, already feeling the effect of the wine on his tongue. “I can drink so much more than that. I’m not like before anymore, ge.”

Not like before anymore. Not a single one of them was like before anymore.

And yet, it seemed, they had all moved on.

Xue Meng watched the clouds drifting slowly across that blue sky, the autumn breeze picking up, murmuring through the thick canopies, the haitang blossoms in bloom even as the trees around them had already turned to gold and red. The seasons came, the seasons went, as all who came into his life had left, returning only with the falling leaves for a brief moment of respite, stretching their wings out once more for southern skies when the first snow started to fall.

“Xue Meng, tell me, really, how have you been holding up?” Mo Ran slowly asked, his eyes uncommonly thoughtful, the traces of playfulness from earlier all but evaporated.

Xue Meng did not know how to respond, but he came up with something eventually, pouring them a second drink. “Running Sisheng Peak keeps me very busy,” he said carefully.

“I asked about how you are doing,” Mo Ran emphasized, picking up the cup that Xue Meng pressed into his hand. “Come up with me one of these days. Say hi to shizun. Bring your disciple, if you’d like. I haven’t seen him in a while.”

“Yes, yes,” Xue Meng said, already knowing that this upcoming visit would not happen for a long time. Something always came up to delay, to cancel, from his side or theirs. “Come, let’s finish this bottle. Shizun must be waiting for you.”

He wondered what that was like, being waited for. He had always been doing the waiting, the days blending into weeks into months, for visits from his cousin, from his only friends at Taxue Palace, from straggling outsiders seeking protection from Sisheng Peak.

And in those moments in between, what was it he was doing?

Mei Hanxue’s gentle eyes appeared in front of him, and this time, Xue Meng looked into that face that had broken a thousand hearts, feeling his own crumbling to pieces. The cold gaze of the elder twin, forever shuttered, the red blooming on his chest expanding until all Xue Meng could see was red, his robes and his hands covered once more in that thick stench, and Xue Meng closed his eyes, wishing for the wine to wash away these images he had never wanted to see, only for his head to spin, sharpening the pain in his temple, sharpening the sight within as his actual sight dimmed. 

He looked again at the jar of wine, seeing it empty, at Mo Ran’s still full cup, and realized that he had drank it all himself.

[wisdomrays]

The Invincible Power of Faith

QUESTION: What are the greatest obstacles faced by the volunteers who wish to share with others the inspirations of their souls and the beauties of the values in which they believe?

ANSWER: Worldly desires and wishes are the greatest components for a human’s trial in this world. In societies where these components have seized individuals’ feelings and thoughts, the consequences have been many cases of oppression and suffering. Many people on the path of truth faced relentless and faithless attacks, various kinds of insults and slanders, and even assassinations and massacres; the Prophets, peace be upon them, are prime examples of this.

The first heart-rending incident took place in Prophet Adam’s home, one blessed with showers of revelation. Although he was raised in such an atmosphere, Cain murdered his brother Abel for the sake of his worldly desires. Thus, the first story began with Satan’s deception and an unending chain of deceptions followed.

According to old scriptures, Prophet David’s once downtrodden people, whom he saved from disgrace and guided to dignity (with God’s permission and grace), slandered him with adultery and murder, terrible sins even ordinary believers do not easily commit. His people forced him to swear by placing his hand on the Holy Ark and put him in a difficult situation. The Pride of Humanity faced his enemies’ slanders—such as being, may God forbid a hundred thousand times, a magician and soothsayer—by means of which they tried to prevent the truths he told to reach hearts.

Do not destroy the eternal in this world!

Similar things can happen today as well—and they will not cease to exist in the future either. It is important not to express our troubles and hand future generations a heritage of complaints. What really matters is meeting all that befalls us with resignation and not complaining about it to people; we can open up to God when places and times provide us with due privacy, but must not let anyone know about this lamentation. The sole owner of time and space is God Almighty, and to Him belongs the final decree. Interfering with the result is not of our business.

If we live with this understand, we will meet His decrees about us with appreciation.

There can be troubles from His Majesty or graces from His mercy; one must welcome them both and neither feel joyful with favors nor complain about troubles. One must not say, “What did I do that these befell me? Why do I always come up against all these sufferings, troubles, gossip, and envy?” 

If you really expect to be rewarded with some perfection in the next world, it is a sign of lacking perfection to expect perfection in terms of worldly things here. Desires like expecting applause and flattering remarks from people means going bankrupt; this is a lost investment in terms of the Hereafter. The Qur’an warns us on this issue and states,

 “You consumed in your worldly life your (share of) pure, wholesome things, and enjoyed them fully (without considering the due of the Hereafter, and so have taken in the world the reward of all your good deeds)” (al-Ahqaf 46:20). 

Therefore, one must leave to the next world all Divine favors to be enjoyed, and not consume in this world all good things God promised for the Hereafter.

The following parable conveys a meaningful lesson about this subject: The wife of a saintly person complained to her husband about their humble livelihood. She asked him to pray for them to be saved from this state. So as not to turn down his wife’s wish, that righteous person prayed about it and his prayer was accepted. All of a sudden, a golden brick appeared near them, out of nowhere. That righteous man told his wife, “Here you are. This is a brick from our would-be mansion in Paradise.” Upon this, that conscientious lady felt regret for her previous words and told her husband, “Though we are truly needy, and God willing, we will have many other bricks like this one in the Hereafter. However, I do not wish to waste in this transient realm the reward we are to receive in the eternal one. Let not a single brick of our mansion in Paradise be missing. Therefore, please pray for this brick to go back to its place.” Upon this sincere wish, that righteous person prayed again, the golden brick disappeared, and went back to its place.

The invincible power of those devoted to the truth and a lofty ideal, and who seek to have a bright future for their people again, is keeping away from worldliness, acting with a spirit of dignified contentment, and devoting themselves completely to the happiness of others. There is nothing wrong if the people who earn from trade and support the services for faith and the Qur’an seek material prosperity. However, the devoted souls who are in a position of representing their values must take a clear stance against worldliness and always act with dignified contentment against it; this is their greatest credit. As they behave with genuine indifference to worldliness, people will listen to their words attentively, welcome every matter they point out, and fulfill the duties they are supposed to do without the least hesitation.

While this is what should have been, unfortunately it seems that there is a considerable number of people who set forth with a spirit of devotion, then inclined to the world by initially saying that a bit of enjoyment will bring no harm; this led to deeper indulges, and they could not manage to straighten afterwards, and finally lost against worldliness. 

These people came one by one—and they unfortunately perished one by one. If the devoted souls are ever taken by these devilish considerations and say, “Let me also earn and live like them; let me also have a house and fortune...” this will mean ruining their credit with their own hands. Divine destiny issues a decree for their losing the blessings in their hands; they will slip and fall. Then God Almighty will remove from the scene those lifeless ones who entirely lost their spirit; and as the Qur’an states, God brings a fresh group of people who are not weary, and have never been dazzled by the world.

The way to bring haughty ones to their knees

The esteem and honor of devotedness must be protected against all odds. Like in every other virtue, the Pride of Humanity is the prime devoted one who represents the peak of this virtue. When he died and passed to the horizons of his spirit, his armor was held in pawn by a Jewish merchant, which he had given in return for an amount of barley he had taken in order to treat his guests. After his demise, Muslims realized the situation and they took back the armor from pawn.

The first caliph Abu Bakr followed in his footsteps; he had left an earthen jar to be handed to the next caliph after him. After he passed away, the trust was handed to the second caliph, Umar ibn al-Khattab. When they broke the jar with curiosity, the contents turned out to be the bits of money that remained after meeting the needs of his family, and a note. The note read: “The money you allocated for me was more than necessary some days. I felt ashamed against God to spend it, for it belongs to the people and should go back to the state treasury.” This message by the blessed Abu Bakr moved Umar ibn al-Khattab, who said with tearful eyes, “May God have mercy on Abu Bakr! He left such a difficult example to follow for those who remained behind.”

Umar continued his caliphate with the same understanding. He never had a throne; he always sat in the mosque and carried out his tasks from there. He did not claim to be representing the dignity of the state as a pretext for leading a life of luxury, lavishness, and pomp. On the contrary, he brought the world powers of the time into line with his modest conditions. When they were going to take over the keys of the Al-Aqsa Mosque in Jerusalem, the leaders met him in sumptuous clothes, but he rode the same mount with his slave (in turns), came with his patched clothes, and his general air was modest. As it is also plainly understood from this, the way to bring down the conceited ones of the time is effacement and modesty. This state and attitude will bury all types of conceitedness. This was the understanding of Umar ibn al-Khattab. He never cherished a thought like, “let me leave some worldly wealth for my children and grandchildren…” He entrusted his children to the faithful understanding of the blessed Companions and passed to the other world thus.

The third caliph, Uthman ibn al-Affan, was very rich. He was engaged in trade. However, he forsook the world in his heart, even if he did not necessarily forsake earning, as Bediüzzaman put it in The Seedbed of the Light. As a matter of fact, when Muslims were asked to donate to equip the army to meet the advancing Byzantine army in Tabuk, he donated hundreds of camels, together with their loads, without having the least bit of regret in his heart and purely for the sake of God’s good pleasure. Had the Messenger of God, peace and blessings be upon him, told him that he was supposed to give everything he had, he would no doubt have done so without any hesitation.

The life of the fourth caliph Ali was no different. He ruled a vast territory, one that was larger than Europe. The area of the lands he ruled, in spite of some political rivalries and strife, was large enough as to contain the Persian and Roman empires of the time. On the other hand, caliph Ali used to wear summer clothes during winter, causing him to tremble, and winter clothes during summer, causing him to sweat. When asked about the reason, he answered, “This is what I can afford with my own means.”

If this is Islam, then where are we?

Some claim today that “We are also on the path of the Righteous Caliphs,” but spend their lives in luxurious mansions in summer and winter, try to secure a fortune for their children and grandchildren, and thus misappropriate state money. It is necessary to ask them, “Who is your example? Is not a believer supposed to totally keep away from such thoughts, which normally belong to greedy pharaohs, and feel ashamed before God?”

It is my wish from God Almighty that the people devoted to a lofty ideal always retain this noble feeling of shame, that they are not taken by the temptations of this world, and that they do not let these trip them up and bring about their fall. Let them say, “We can show patience in this world, so that nothing will be missing in the next one.” 

Let the volunteers consent to suffering troubles, but not covet others’ ostentatious lives. Let them see worldly things as dirt that smear a corner of their foot. And let them pass to the next world so nobly that when they are asked in the presence of God, “What did you leave in the world?” they should be able to say, “I cannot remember anything.” The essential of our path is dignified contentment, effacement, and modesty. Other codes of conduct by the idealist souls devoted to restoring a ruined heritage will not only shake the people’s trust in them, but also cause them to lose credit in the sight of God. As seen throughout history, those who commit injustice and misappropriation will fall like Qarun (Korah) in the end, even if they appear like Prophet Aaron, peace be upon him, at the beginning.

Even if they offer a title of a great conqueror, the thought of devotedness must not be sacrificed for anything. Just as we did not possess anything when we came to this world, one must similarly pass to the next world with zero wealth; just like in the examples given above. Let those who do see those examples appreciate them; their appreciation will turn to a blessing in the Hereafter. As for those refuse to appreciate? Their non-appreciation will slam on them like a sledgehammer.

They fear not the censure of any who censure!

Many roses have been taken by thorns, and many nightingales have lamented this. And today, it falls to the heroes of noble ideals to lament. They meet slanders, condemnations, derision, intrigues, and plots... In the face of all these, it is necessary to act with the understanding voiced by a Sufi poet: “Neither the world welcomed us, nor did we expect from worldly ones; nor do we seek refuge in any door but God’s.”

It is necessary to present a stance of dignity. As Sadi Shirazi put it, “If a stray stone touches a golden bowl, neither the stone gains value, nor the bowl loses value at all.” Therefore, if you are a golden bowl, let them stone you; with God’s permission and grace, nobody will be able to harm you.

The Qur’an states that steadfast believers do not fear the censure of any who censure (al-Maedah 5:54), and shows us the attitude to be taken in such situations. On the other hand, it is necessary to know that everything that befalls us is a trial which serves as a means for further closeness to the Eternally Beloved Creator, thanks to a perspective that sees beyond apparent causes.

Without being hindered by the evil words they hear, they must focus their attention on the task they need to carry out and walk uprightly on the righteous path.

Have no doubt about it: with God’s permission and grace, they will keep serving under Divine protection and no one will be able to stop them. They must keep walking with the understanding, “Whatever it is that God ordains, it is sure to be goodness.”