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ddelline · 14 days

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wip wednesday (ft traumatic post-canon itafushi)

blurb | yea so this is a thing I never thought I would feel inspired 2 write. turns out that I did, and I do: I think the formula is megumi's inherent canonical misery(*infinity) + yūji's inherent canonical saviorism = ddelline wip

premise | follows canon thru ch256, deviates (obvs lol) after that to explore itafushi in a post-canon setting, centering on shared trauma, shared healing, and all of what may become of 2 boys who've been possessed by a 2000 yr curse and forced to bear witness to its murderous actions all the whilst (but it ends in yaoi. I feel compelled 2 point this out, even though it may count as a spoiler)

ok anyway, a lil prelude bit (spoilers 4 ch252) under the cut! posting for the sake of posting, lol, but when a b*tch hasn't delivered a new ao3 entry since october, that's what happens

25th December, 2018; Shinjuku—

In the zero point two second interval before Okkotsu-senpai snaps his right hand up and signs for the Angel’s technique, Yūji gets in close. In the exact second—same breath, same blink-of-eye—that Okkotsu-senpai intones, “Maximum output: Jacob’s Ladder,” and thrusts the katana through Sukuna’s tricep, Yūji lunges. He steps forward, takes one long step in one dizzying arc, and carves a knife-sharpened elbow into Sukuna’s right oblique. In the split breath that follows the incantation, he heaves back, finds his center of gravity and pitches backwards with everything he’s got.

Yūji screams, hoarse and raspy, desperate with futile hope: “It’s time to wake up, Fushiguro!!”

The battlefield freeze-frames. Suddenly he sees himself, bloodied and bruised and messily reversed-patched whole, land on the balls of his feet outside of the whiteout lance of the Jacob’s Ladder; he sees the splurt of blood in the wake of Okkotsu-senpai’s katana congeal in mid-air; he sees the monstrous outline of Sukuna temporarily undone, silhouette erased within the beam’s radius.

Yūji blinks. The next thing he sees is swirling black and blue nothing—like when you close your eyes and focus on the dark vacuum on the backs of your eyelids. He looks down, catalogs his bloody and ripped sneakers sinking slightly into ground that’s plush, looks sandy.

Darkness swirls. Yūji sinks. In front of him, Fushiguro has collapsed over his own bent knees. His face is turned into the ground, his fists are balled at the ends of where his arms are stretched out long.

“That’s enough. I’ve had enough.”

The composition of the soul—

Viewed from that angle, their plan had no flaws. Calculate: a curse puppeting a human vessel, theorized soul multiplicity, Yūji’s ability to perceive and target the soul, and the Angel’s technique—then solve for X. If the aforementioned conditions are used as variables, then no matter how you scramble them up, X will solve for a window wherein Yūji is able to bully open a sliver of an entryway into Fushiguro’s soul. And they did—it worked.

They’d one-upped the strongest sorcerer of all; when all was said, done and executed, they had outwitted The King of Curses himself.

However.

“That’s enough,” says Fushiguro’s collapsed body. “I’ve had enough.”

For a moment, Yūji doesn’t understand what he’s hearing. He feels like he’s being asked to interpret a conversation from underwater—goes back over familiarly shaped words, tries his best to turn over the syllables, to pick them apart and put them back together the way they’re supposed to be. His ears ring faintly.

He stares at the crumpled angles of Fushiguro’s back; a vulnerable spot of his neck peeks up visible where his collar creases awkwardly. He feels simultaneously nothing and like he’s very cold.

Yūji attempts to repeat the words, “I don’t—” but the words lodge in the hollow of his throat. His ribs feel suddenly tight over his heart.

What they’d failed to take into account was the possibility that within Fushiguro Megumi’s soul—any will to live had been extinguished.

Comprehension slams into Yūji like a freight train. He stops breathing. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go, he thinks. Blood rushes in his ears, squalls and claps like thunder. He wants to repeat himself—it’s time to wake up, Fushiguro; there’s no time actually, we don’t have time for this, so wake up—but when he tries, his throat closes up and his jaw sticks shut. His mind is racing, his heart inches upwards in his throat.

“Fushiguro—” Yūji croaks, but runs out of words. Fuck, but he’s always been better at doing. He takes a step forward, stretches out a hand.

The blue-black vacuum shudders. The sandy ground quakes.

“No!! Fushig—”

“Scale of the Dragon.”

Yūji blinks. His surroundings once more have shape: the sky is a murky dome, the ground craggy rock. The entirety of the landscape—cut through by thousands, maybe countless katanas. A violent shiver shudders through him, makes him stumble slightly forward. Far up the blade-crowded plains, the blinding light of Jacob’s Ladder has winked out; a bleached sand tempest spirals from its impact site.

Fushiguro is gone.

They failed. Yūji failed.

The pale sand whorl shudders and warps. “Recoil.”

Yūji’s mind draws blank. He understands, somehow primally, that he needs to move. His heart races, slams against his too-tight ribs with meaty thunks. Fushiguro is gone. Against all odds, their plan had worked; Yūji had reached him—and he’d failed.

“—tadori!” cuts a voice—cuts Okkotsu-senpai’s voice, tight with nerves, from somewhere ahead and above. It sounds submerged, hindered; or maybe that’s just him.

Him—who needs to move. He needs to move now.

“Twin Meteors.”

“Itadori!!”

Yūji snaps both arms up in tight guard on knee-jerk instinct. The first reinforced Cleave slashes across his forehead up into his hairline not a second later. Pain cracks through his skull, blinding and breathtaking. In front of him, Okkotsu-senpai’s matte white uniform splits open, blooming a violent red. Rika shrieks. Okkotsu-senpai sinks to one knee with a pained, bitten off grunt.

“Okkotsu-senpai!!”

Yūji grinds a heel into the solid underfoot, forces his weight into his knees. Don’t move; focus on defense, says a small, rational part of Yūji. Don’t move in any way that might jeopardise the plan, says an amalgamation of their remaining fighting roster.

Move. Move now; a short sprint and you can make it in time, drag Okkotsu out of danger, says his instincts. Yūji bites his lip raw to keep from swearing. Sweat slicks down the small of his back. He remains still.

The next three hits garrote across his hip, stomach, upper thigh; gouges him clean to the bone. Yūji grinds his teeth until his back molars creak and swallows back bile reflexively. Pain, bright and overwhelming, sparks in his chest. He wills himself to lean into it; feels the pain, but not the shock. He repeats, focus, and breathe, says it over and over again, wearing the words down like an old prayer. He’s already failed an assignment once today. He’s not allowed to contribute to another defeat. All that matters is the plan, the painstaking step-by-step—

The greyscale dome of Yūta’s domain cracks and shatters.

Yūji sees Maki-senpai slip the Split Soul Katana home—the tip ruptures bloody through the stretch of skin supposedly guarding a curse’s heart—before he actually sees Maki-senpai.

Sukuna grunts, freezes. His eyes go wide. Slowly he cranes his neck, gaze abandoning Rika and Okkotsu-senpai to dart over and behind the bulk of his right shoulder.

The plan. The painstaking, convoluted, step-by-step plan, outfitted with so many failsafes and exceptions it can barely be called a plan at this stage. The plan with its end goal—

Fushiguro. For Yūji, he’s both the beginning and the end.

Behind him, someone is propelled from high above into the pavement with such brute force that it sends violent tremors shocking through the full expanse of the city block.

Step one is getting the hell out of dodge—clear the way for Maki-senpai.

He wills himself, as the domain collapses into bleak daylight and a ruined cityscape, to move. He sees Ui Ui swoop in from high above, aiming for where Okkotsu-senpai is cradled in the spindly palms of his shikigami. Neither Chōsō nor Kusakabe should be far off, then. Yūji can tag out for now.

He grits his teeth and steels himself, spins on one heel and takes off in a sprint.

The sudden movement strains the gouges in his thigh and hip taut; what did he expect, really? Pain, furious and overwhelming, lashes up his spine, burrows into the lesions; blacks his vision for a split second. He stumbles, swears. The wound across his forehead dribbles steadily into his eyelashes and along his temple. He scrubs the inside of his wrist irately across his face. Taking quick stock, he traces the pain, sparking like a live wire, to three busted ribs, six lacerations at worst: forehead, forearms, torso, left hip and upper left thigh.

He blinks crusting blood and light-headedness out of his eyes; he hones in on the pain he’s feeling—digs in to use it as a focal point, situates himself inside it. It’s physical, he thinks; just physical, it’s fixable. For me it’s fine. Not like—

It’s time to wake up, Fushiguro!!

Cutting a sharp right corner, sprinting down a narrow, partly collapsed alleyway, Yūji imagines Fushiguro before him: beaten down—defeated; kneeling face down in the blue-black vacuum pit of his soul, the expanse of his shoulders pitching into the not-sand of the ground; the skinny stretch of his back long and limp over folded knees.

It’s enough—I’ve had enough.

Yūji scrubs an angry hand across his eyes. “I’m not giving up on you!”

#fic: when you dig up god's little acre #itafushi #jjk #my writing #work: fic #wip wednesday

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artblock-tm · 4 months

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what if you talk a bit more about that gay little jester you put in a mirror that would be funny i think

i forgot his name lol hehdgdhshdgdg

Oh yeah I’ll talk more about him. I’ll GLADLY talk more about Drisco. He likes the attention, too!

Origin and Design

Drisco and his rival/counterpart/toxic yaoi partner Castarian both originated in a dream I had. While Castarian was named, Drisco wasn’t, so I had to come up with something myself. It rhymes with “disco” but my intention was to derive something from “discord”.

So he’s one of the newest, and one of my more favored designs, since I’ve gotten better at designing OCs. I only have his top half planned out, since that’s mostly what appears, and the attempt at his bottom half isn’t set in stone…. But here he is!

Maybe I’ll give him stupid little pointed shoes with bells on the end.

Story

In life, he was the jester for some nobleman- he preferred that over working for a king, because he got juuuust the right amount of attention.

While I don’t have a lot of story planned out for this world , I do have a concept for their religion/magic system. It’s heavily based on flowers and their magical or divine properties. A lot of flower-based products are sold at markets because of their importance. They can be used for protective charms, healing salves, scents, etc. Alchemy is a major factor in their scientific and magical developments.

Drisco, however, dedicated his life to studying magic dealing with blood. This magic was darker and considered taboo, but he recognized it as the other side of the coin of the holy flowers. They’re both natural substances and, if applied correctly, have magic properties, and therefore have worth to any god(s) they believed in.

So Drisco learned how to control blood. He learned summoning rituals, ways to puppeteer people, ways to cast illusions, etc. He learned what was thought unethical to figure out- what the worth of a human soul is.

He studied this in the shadows of his jester life. Every so often he’d make trips into the forest to gather materials and stop at towns to put on a show. He met Castarian that way- in a fae-riddled forest. I might talk about the circumstances of their meeting and their complicated relationship sometime else; there’s a lot to it.

Anyway. Drisco eventually got caught studying this sinful magic. And so, he was executed, and just to make extra sure he couldn’t cause more harm, his spirit was cursed into a mirror. (Castarian died as a result of his death, too. Again, it’s complicated.)

The mirror was transported to an abandoned fort and covered with a cloth. Drisco, sentient as a spirit, couldn’t see out of the mirror with it covered. He spent centuries in darkness… and as someone who’s so fond of attention, that… that wore him down a little.

But he did discover he could control the interior of the mirror. It could become any scene he liked! He could simulate any place he wanted- outdoors, indoors, doesn’t matter! But the frame of the mirror always stays the same amount of space behind him, no matter how far it looks like he’s gone. And nothing is real in the worlds he create- he can’t feel the sun on his skin or breathe in fresh air anymore.

One day, the mirror was uncovered. And he was overjoyed. Immediately he started talking to the person who uncovered the mirror- only to quickly discover they couldn’t see him. And again, his hopes fell.

But even as they left, the mirror stayed uncovered. He could finally glimpse the room he was left in! It was… dusty and old and in the process of being cleaned up as a tourist space, but it was better than a black nothingness!

He also learned that Castarian, as a ghost, hangs out in the same fort. Somehow, as a spirit, he’d followed Drisco here and hadn’t left his side. At first, Drisco was touched…until he learned that it was because Castarian blamed him for his death and had waited all this time to yell at him. Whatever friendship they had dissolved as they argued.

Drisco is furious at Castarian (again, for complicated reasons), and wants his revenge. It’s a little hard to avenge oneself when one is trapped in a mirror, though…

As more and more people trickle through the not-so abandoned fort, Drisco realizes that some people can see him. He talks to those people, and starts to manipulate them. He gets them in their own for a while and puts on an entertaining show- perhaps with lights set up in the background of the mirror and a giant wheel of fortune, all modern game show things with a medieval twist!

But he always rigs the games and cheats to win. Every single one of his participants dies after losing enough games and being forced to do a favor for him. Slowly he gains more power with every death, having his players draw their own spell circles on the ground that will spell their demise and give the value of their soul, blood, and flesh to Drisco.

And he loves it. It only he could get back at Castarian….

Other Notes

If I could fully figure out the mechanics of Drisco’s game show, I think he’d be VERY fun to roleplay, especially if everything was left up to chance.

Despite his sadistic demeanor, Drisco had actually been very lonely. His shows are not only spectacular because he’s fruity, he’s also trying to capture your attention and make you stay. He only kills people he gets bored with- or if they had some really, really bad luck in his games.

And speaking of him being fruity, this man is gay. That’s right, he’s one of them homosexuals. He has a crush on Castarian (but it’s more of an obsession), but if you get on his good side and stick around a lot… he might get attached to you. I think he could definitely settle for more than one partner.

Unfortunately, he’s well aware that he’s good-looking and that people want to kiss him. And he WILL use this to manipulate people. But interact at your own risk.

Also when he gets mad, I think he should be allowed to look increasingly demonic, as a treat.

I made a drawing of him recently that’s my current Discord pfp!

TW: Some blood

That’s all!

…for now. Knowing him, this won’t be the last time I talk about him.

#artbabble-tm #oc: Drisco #oc: Castarian #goblinbugthing #ask #ocs #doodle doodles #doodle gallery #I love him. I hate him also but mostly I love him.

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translations-by-aiimee · 1 year

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Mistakenly Saving the Villain - Chapter 9

Original Title: 论救错反派的下场

Genres: Drama, Romance, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is the product of my limited knowledge of Chinese characters as I attempt to learn the language. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 9 - Nie's Poison Scripture

Yue Wuhuan stood in the library of Medicine King's Valley, looking at the precious books on cultivation skills and secret methods around him, feeling as if he had entered a mountain of treasure.

Both Song Qingshi and the original body were the types who didn't want to worry about trivial matters in life. The library was a forbidden area, and there were no medicine disciples to clean it, so the books and objects inside were all messed up. Something over here and another over there, and only he knew where everything was. After Song Qingshi brought Yue Wuhuan in, he asked him to tidy up the table, and then went to find the book he needed.

With difficulty, Yue Wuhuan moved his gaze away from the book and looked at the Luohan bed by the window. There was a low bed in front of the Luohan bed, and there were hundreds of books piled on it, as well as dry pen and ink and a large pile of rice paper covered in scribbled and altered handwriting. This seemed to be the place where Master read and rested on a regular basis.

He walked over and resigned himself to putting the books next to each other, and suddenly found a tattered copy of "Nie's Poison Scripture" hidden underneath. Yue Wuhuan's breath stopped for a moment, and he realized that Nie was referring to Nie Jue, the Poison Master who killed like a sack of shit thousands of years ago and made the righteous world tremble in fear. It was likely that this book contained the recipes for the Poison Master's various poisons.

Yue Wuhuan quietly glanced at Song Qingshi, who didn't seem to be paying attention and secretly opened the book. He was pleasantly surprised to find that the beginning was Nie Jue's famous formula for the Thousand Dispersal Powder. The Thousand Disperal Powder was colourless and tasteless, capable of killing even first-generation cultivators. . .

This kind of killing method without cultivation was exactly what he was looking for in Golden Phoenix Manor.

Yue Wuhuan quickly flipped through the pages, hardwiring the recipe into his mind.

Thousand Disperal Powder, Soul Devouring Incense, Puppet Pill. . .

Every kind of poison was a sharp butcher's knife.

The killing intent that was once suppressed turned into a raging tide that stirred up his thoughts, and countless vicious methods of using them emerged in his mind.

No one knew that his heart had long been refined into a demon from hell, looking forward to a mountain of corpses and blood and that he wanted to destroy not only himself but the entire filthy world, including himself.

"This book is not suitable for you." Song Qingshi's voice came from behind him.

Yue Wuhuan gently closed the book, put it back on the pile of books on the table, then turned around as if nothing had happened, a submissive expression painted on his face again as he said the excuse he had prepared: "It's too old. I'll clean it up. I accidentally scattered the pages of the book when shifting it. Please forgive me, Master."

Song Qingshi put down the pile of books in his arms. He picked up the Poison Scripture, flipped through a few pages, and found that there were indeed traces of pages falling off.

Yue Wuhuan looked down at the ground. His palms were slightly sweating, and he was extremely nervous.

"Your foundation is weak, and it's too early to learn this book." Song Qingshi didn't notice his thoughts and quickly ignored the matter. He gave the instructions carefully, "Toxicology and pharmacology are interlinked. You have to start by recognizing medicine. For example, the heavenly grass seed and swallow orchid seed are very similar in appearance, but their toxicity is very different. If they are used incorrectly, their efficacy will be greatly affected. Therefore, you must first learn the basic pharmacopeia, know how to identify drugs, be familiar with pharmacology, and then learn alchemy and pharmaceuticals before you can finally study this poison scripture."

Yue Wuhuan raised his head abruptly, and asked incredulously, "I can learn Poison Scripture?"

"Why not?" Song Qingshi didn't understand. He thought about it and stuffed "Nie's Poison Scripture" into Yue Wuhuan's hand, comforting him, "I think you can be more confident than that. The things in the poison scripture aren't that difficult. With your intelligence, you'll be able to master them very quickly, but you need to pay strict attention to safety when refining. Many medicines in it cannot touch your skin, and some of them can still infect you through the air. . . If you don’t understand something, you can ask me at any time .”

Was this a question of self-confidence?

Yue Wuhuan was completely dumbfounded as if he had been slapped. He was speechless for a long time.

Oblivious, Song Qingshi continued to metaphorically slap him again and again: "If you're interested in poison, it's best to learn how to wield concealed weapons and spell formation together. Poisons are much easier to apply. I'll give you all the related books later. After sorting it out, you can also use my laboratory. . ."

Yue Wuhuan really can't help it, interrupting the excited person in front of him: "You haven't thought about what I would use it for?"

"I know." Song Qingshi's eyes were full of relief. He had long been worried that the personality of the Shou protagonist was too kind and susceptible to bullying, just like a beautiful flower that had no ability to protect itself and could only be picked by others. He was also very worried that the system teacher would pull him out of this world after completing his task, making Yue Wuhuan lose his protection and fall into the devil's lair again. He said seriously, "Wuhuan, don't be afraid. It's not your fault for being beautiful, it's the fault of those beasts. Spells, poisons, hidden weapons. . . If the immortal world is a world of beasts, you have to have the means to protect yourself from being bullied by anyone."

"Is it wrong to not want to be spoiled?"

"Is it wrong to not want to be bullied?"

"Is it wrong to not want to do something you don't like?"

The breeze blew across the window sill, bringing in a clean breath, and the faint scent of medicine in the air disturbed his heart.

Yue Wuhuan listened in a daze to the words that no one had ever said to him. Every sentence was like a dream.

"From now on, never let the world humiliate you again."

. . .

Learning requires discussion and progress together.

Song Qingshi liked to study with friends the most, especially those who were as smart as him. The professor he followed was a world-renowned international medical master, and all the brothers and sisters were the best of the best. He misses the happy times when he studied and did experiments with them all.

Yue Wuhuan had a high IQ and was diligent and eager to learn. What more could you ask for in life if you have this student friend?

Top Student Song was overjoyed. He helped tidy up the unwanted books on the Luohan bed. He cleaned the table and then cast several cleaning spells. He served spiritual tea and various cakes, lit the refreshing incense, and then pulled Yue Wuhuan to sit on one side and began to read.

Yue Wuhuan's heart was a little flustered. He quietly observed for a long time and found that the person next to him was indeed reading without distractions, with no other meaning. He gradually relaxed his mind, and quietly read the book.

At some point, dark clouds covered the sun and raindrops fell on the eaves, playing bursts of music. The damp wind blew a few drops of dampness and cold through the window, onto the scholars inside the house. Yue Wuhuan soon felt the coolness. He got up and turned on the luminous peals, gently closing the sheer window. He looked back but saw Song Qingshi still looking at the scroll in his hand, so absorbed that he didn't even notice the changes in the surrounding environment.

Yue Wuhuan approached step by step, carefully raising his beautiful eyes. This is the first time that he wanted to look at a person carefully. In his mind, he carefully depicted this snow-coloured man wrapped in white jade, with slightly messy hair and a slightly immature face. Although his appearance was good, he was not stunning, but he had the clearest eyes in the world. He didn't know desire, free from filth, just like a crystal that unintentionally fell into the tumbling mundane world, not tainted with reddish dust.

Yue Wuhuan watched from the side for a long time, but he didn't raise his head.

It seems that, except for this room full of books and scrolls, no one could be caught in his eyes, and in his heart. . .

Yue Wuhuan suddenly felt very ridiculous. If someone knew that the rumoured eccentric Immortal Medicine King and the famous Mr. Wuhuan were staying in the study room but not doing anything except spending a quiet day reading books together, they would think it's preposterous, right?

People must have ignorance in order to succeed.

To be ignorant is to be pure, to revert to the simplest form.

No one realized that the Immortal Medicine King was just an idiot obsessed with books. All of his misbehaviour comes from his obsession with books, his madness. No one knows how to get rid of his crazy shell, but inside is the simplest heart. . .

Yue Wuhuan bowed his head and smiled quietly, then the smile turned into a slightly bitter one. He thought of the first meeting between the two by the river, the touch of his fingertips brushing the ends of his hair and his cheeks, and he felt a little hot. If he had known about what would happen today, he would have punished himself to make himself more decent and not let him see his embarrassing side.

It was dark. The rain stopped and the moon showed its face. There were a few insects in the grass.

The study room was like a world isolated from the real world, where you couldn't feel the changes of the outside world. There was no noise, no disturbance, only the soft sound of pages flipping and the lingering deserted fragrance of medicine.

Yue Wuhuan reads the book, feeling an unprecedented peace of mind. . .

How good would it be if this was what life was like?

Song Qingshi suddenly put down the book, picked up a pen and began to scribble on the paper.

Yue Wuhuan looked sideways but saw that he wrote very quickly and in a hurry. His handwriting was very scribbled, and it was almost impossible to understand the content. Only the names of medicines were visible.

Suddenly, he stopped writing and fell into deep thought. His left hand accidentally touched the wet handwriting, staining it with a large ink mark. Then he unconsciously raised his hand to his cheek and a black mark appeared on his face.

Yue Wuhuan stared at the black mark, finding it extremely glaring.

He endured and endured but finally couldn't help but find a handkerchief and wipe it carefully, wiping away the traces that stained the innocence in his heart.

Song Qingshi finally woke up, and when he looked back, he realized that it was already dark. He looked at the ink marks on the handkerchief in Yue Wuhuan's hand and realized what a stupid thing he had done. He said embarrassingly: "I tend to get lost in my reading and often lose track of time. Are you hungry? You can wake me up next time."

Yue Wuhuan smiled and shook his head, "I was also engrossed. I didn't realize it was late."

"Here you are," Song Qingshi pushed all the cakes on the table to him, "I've had my fill, so I won't be hungry."

Yue Wuhuan didn't refuse. He picked up a piece of hibiscus cake, thought for a while, and usually found a topic: "Master, you are working so hard, but what important prescription are you researching?"

Song Qingshi tidied up the messy papers on the table and replied, "It's the Six Meridian Rejuvenation Medicated Bath."

Yue Wuhuan's hand holding the hibiscus cake stopped suddenly, and he stared at him blankly.

"It's what you need to use later." Song Qingshi scratched his head in distress, trying to find words to explain. "This medicine can reopen your blocked meridians, but I tried the medicine and found it was too painful. You may not be able to bear it. I'm trying to find ways to reduce the pain. I'm still not sure whether it's better to slow down the effect of the medicine, or to numb the pain-sensing nerves. We may have to try a few more times..."

When the meridians are open, there was hope to return to the path of cultivation. . .

Why do this for him?

"Master," Yue Wuhuan heard his voice trembling, "I'm not afraid of pain. . ."

"No one is not afraid of pain. That's why medicine finds various ways to relieve a patient's pain. Severe pain can even lead to shock." Song Qingshi looked down at the paper in his hand again, stating something that was most natural, "I don't want you to suffer such pain."

Why couldn't he even let him suffer?

Why did he have to be so nice to him?

Why?

Yue Wuhuan frantically wanted to know the answer.

Finally, he asked the question that had been circling in his heart for a long time.

Song Qingshi didn't understand why the novel system must keep secret from the protagonist, let alone what OOC is, but his intuition believed that Yue Wuhuan's current mental state was not ready to bear such absurd truth. He didn't like lying very much, so he thought about it for a long time, and when Yue Wuhuan thought he wouldn't get an answer, Song Qingshi smiled embarrassedly.

He remembered the day he was reborn and saw the beautiful ray of sunshine that dispersed the dark clouds in his heart.

A small kindness made him no longer afraid of the strange world.

"You once wished me good luck tonight, and I want to have a lifetime of good luck with you."

The author has something to say: Confused Top Student Song: Are other book-travelling systems different from mine? Will the system teacher still provide online tutoring? Doesn't OOC mean casualty at work? (on Operation Casualty)

#mistakenly saving the villain translation #mistakenly saving the villain #bl novel #chinese novel #english translation #chinese bl #danmei #danmei novel #yaoi #yaoi novel #yue wuhuan #song qingshi

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nosakaya · 3 years

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｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Hello, so I decided to write one - Kanato shot and yui came up with this idea by accident and decided to write ^^ Hope you like it. You can ask for some yui ship. i don't write yaoi and yuri. I must finally comply with the demands! anyway, I hope you enjoy the shot with kanato sakamaki and yui komori ❤💜😍

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Kanato stood and stared at the window for some time. Seeing the former picture of her mother dead in the rain. -Oh, are you dead -Won't you get up even if I sing to you? Don't worry, you'll be warmer. Kanato set fire body - FINALLY, YOU ARE ONLY MINE. - Violet - hair, screams looking at the fire. - "Only mine at last." A purple haired vampire in a room with Yui. He heard her mouth. - Kanato-kun, I'm going out okay? It came out of her mouth and started walking towards the door. As soon as Kanato heard his door open from his room. I immediately turned around and caught Yui, throwing her onto his purple bed. Which probably held 10 people. Kanato, he was scared that he might be left alone. -Kya !!- the blonde hair girl came out of the mouth. - Where are you going? yui asked. Violet hair vampire. - I THOUGHT SO! YOU WANT TO LEAVE ME? !! TRUTH?!! he shouted, blackmailing her with emotions, tugging at her - DO YOU HATE ME TRUE? !! - YOU WANT TO LEAVE ME?!! "Kanato-kun, what are you talking about? It's not like that," yui said worriedly. - EVEN IF IT IS TRUE, YOU WANTED TO LEAVE ME TRUE? !! - exclaimed the crying vampire. - IF IT WAS TRUE! YOU WOULD NOT LEAVE ME !!! he shouted. - IS THAT NOT TRUE ?! Will you deny it ?! - blamed the pink-eyed woman. - No kanato-kun .. That's not true. I don't hate you, she said. - You are wrong, do you think it WOULD BE GOOD IF THE TRUTH DIE ?! FINALLY, I DON'T NEED A HEART BEAT TO LIVE - he shouted to the blonde, full of anger and frustration. - No, kanato-kun, I don't hate you. I will not leave you. I will not leave you. I don't understand myself - said the blonde. Not fully understanding myself. - You won't leave me even if I do this to you? Kanato said curiously about her behavior. Then the vampire had an idea. - If so, show it by drinking my blood. - He said, then bit his hand. After a while his hand was covered with blood. Blood seeped from his hand. Yui seeing the blood that kanato made her drink stopped thinking. "What is something must happen when a man drinks the blood of a vampire. " - Is that so hard? - the vampire snapped her out of her musings. - I'm not thirsty? -she said puzzled looking at the blood. - come to me immediately without any complaints immediately! - kanato ordered. Purple-haired, he bit into the blonde's neck. - Ah! - out of her mouth for a bite. Without knowing it she was slowly turning into a masochist. Unintentionally. Because of those vampires. - I'm going to make you a pleasure slave so you can't live without me. - announced the vampire delighted with the idea. - After all, if you couldn't live without me it would be something wonderful. Hehe ~~ - He giggled - You will become my puppet soon enough you won't be able to live without me ~~ I will be the one thing you can think about ~~ hehe ~~ - declared the vampire. - You won't leave me alone. - He said. They squeeze yui into bed. - Say, do you love me asked the question though he knows the answer is "No." - No," she answered him. He could force her to lie to get the right answer, but he doesn't want that. He hates liars. Kanato furrowed his brow hearing that answer for once he wanted to hear "I love you kanato kun. " But that will never happen... And he knows that yui-san, he won't say that. She's only with him because she chose him. Kanato sometimes had the idea Yui could pretend to love him, but he knows it won't work she won't love him like that... Every time he hears no he feels like his heart is hurting. - Kanato- kun, I'm sorry. - she said those words. Kanato I know says he's sorry. - Don't apologize if you're not even sorry! - he growled at the blonde. Despite hearing "no" all the time, Kanato hopes the day will come when yui will say "Kanato kun, I love you." He hopes that one day it will happen.

#kanato sakamaki #kanatosakamakixyuikomori #yuikomorixkanatosakamaki #yui komori #edit anime #edit #diabolik lovers #one shot #sakamaki #ship art #ship #diabolik lovers incorrect quotes #diabolik lovers manga

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glutko · 4 years

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FNaF Bootleg Merch VII: Come Back to Me(xico)

View the previous six parts here.

After a year of inactivity, this series has returned. eBay has finally listed enough bootleg FNaF toys for me to do a new, extra-long entry. And let me tell you, they’re particularly rancid this time. I wasn’t trying to aim for that, but here we are.

In addition, there may or may not be non-FNaF figures that are only here because they popped up when I searched FNaF on eBay. So look forward to those!

So, without any further delays, let us dive into this rabbit hole once again...

Where do we begin? I know! Let’s talk about the current line of Mexican FNaF bootlegs known as “Five Nights at Freddy Twisted The Twisted Ones”. Why is the name so weird? Well, that’s because it comes from the official label, as seen below:

First off, what the hell is up with the Funtime Freddy/Bonnie figures? They’re Funtime, obviously, but also Nightmares? Or Twisted, due to how bad the figures look? And why are they holding puppets of themselves? Bonnie in particular looks like he tore off Bon-Bon and is holding it in the air like a display of victory.

Nightmare Funtime Foxy’s paint scheme is so bad that I thought his chest cavity was smashed open and his guts were falling out. Only Ennard looks presentable. Good lord. But it doesn’t stop there, friends: there are two more bags in this series. Let’s get some Twisted animatronics up in here!

...On second thought, maybe not.

From left to right, we’ve got a confused Twisted Foxy with a broken jaw that’s made out of scabs, Stealth Mode Twisted Wolf that wears an ill-fitting tie whilst reciting Hamlet, an easily-impressed Twisted Bonnie who’s trying to copy Wolf, and a Phantom Twisted Freddy who looks absolutely putrid, and not in the way that Scott Cawthon intended. Looks like he was made out of a rotting avocado. Disgusting.

We’re not done yet, though. Let’s take a look at the third and final bag in the Twisted series. And it’s a beauty.

Where do we even begin? The Twisted Puppet with an orange squeezer in its chest that’s clearly a ripped-off fan design? The mutant Springtrap that looks like a cross of Scraptrap and that Salvage fandesign? The 12 oz. Mouse reject Stanley made out of sacks? Or the Twisted Nightmare Chica with peeling paint and a torn bib that says “LETS”? Here’s the answer - none of these, as I don’t want to look at this image anymore.

Here’s a bag of translucent Bendy and the Ink Machine figures that popped up because I searched FNaF on eBay. Yep. Don’t give them to a child, they’ll eat it and die from toxic paint or something.

I know I showed these filthy figures in a previous part, but man, seeing them in a proper display and under normal lighting is so fucked up. Look at Chica, man! That shit is utterly horrifying, and I know it’ll kill me in my dreams tonight. The Bonnie and Puppet aren’t much better, either. Also, why does Foxy have huge shoulder pads? Are they trying to make him look like that buff anime version of him and failing miserably?

Hey... you ever heard the term “half-assed”? Where someone does a lackluster job at something?

This isn’t even quarter-assing it. Did the person who make this have a vague description of Ballora to go off of? “Yeah, there’s this robot girl who looks like a half-naked ballerina. Her face splits into four halves. Also, she wears all-pink, except for her tutu, which is purple and looks like it’s made out of one of those paper ruffs you’d find in a birthday decoration. Get to work.”

Ugh. I need something to take the taste of crap Ballora out of my mouth. I know! Let’s go visit our lovely Rockstar animatronics! I bet they’re doing well this time of year!

Hm. I made fun of figures similar to these in the last part... but these are lower in quality, implying that the bootleggers are ripping off bootleg toys again. That’s right - it’s another case of bootleg Inception!

Speaking of, here are the original figures for you to compare them to, because I am too lazy to come up with my own content. Or maybe these are the bootlegs, I don’t really know.

I will say this, though - Scrap Baby looks absolutely terrible. On both of them. The face rivals paper Ballora in terms of sheer crapness.

Yaoi Hands Toy Bonnie. Yes. I have no idea what fan design this figure is supposed to be ripping off. I don’t think any FNaF character has a design quite like this. Is this a repaint over an existing non-FNaF figure? Please let me know.

Edit: It’s a figure of Drawkill Toy Bonnie. Huh.

Let’s take a small break from these crap FNaF figures and look at a set that was recommended to me by eBay. Y’all ever heard of Miraculous Ladybug?

The bootleggers have, and dear GOD what the hell is wrong with their EYES. They are wired, man! They’ve taken some bad drugs, and now they’re suffering and paying the price. Also, what’s up with those short chibi things? Are they supposed to be that big and freakish?

Can we please stop looking at this image?

Ah, yes, there we go! For our final bootleg set, we have these... figures of the plushies? I don’t really know.

Why are there two Mangles, one of which appears to be absolutely plastered with blood? What’s wrong with Toy Bonnie’s face - did he have some of the drugs as well? Why does the Puppet look like it’s fallen into a vat of paint stripper? Why does Foxy look like he’s got a vest made of turkey on, as well as fake fingernails for ears? Why are there two Freddys? Why is one of them hiding behind Foxy? Is he shy?

Is... is that Loss on Chica’s bib?

And that’s all I have for now. I must say, I do hope that the bootleggers find out about Help Wanted and Security Breach. Then we’ll have quality Vanny, Glitchtrap, and Glamrock figures to point and laugh at.

#not corruption #five nights at freddy's #fnaf #long post #bootleg

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inthe-forest-ofthe-lotus · 5 years

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The night after the market...(AU)

>> More delicious AU content for HeLin and Aka ( @the-lost-shrine ).

* * * * *

A night was spent in the markets before HeLin started on his way home.

The parcel with the pigments and herbs were in one hand, while the parasol was tightly held in the other. That bamboo hat no where in sight upon his head now that he was casually walking the streets of the city. A silver hair pin, traditional in design, held the hair back from his face while allowing it to flow freely down his back.

Though the long chestnut hair had long been abandoned in favor of a soft shade of strawberry blonde. A fact that near gave his shifu and otou-san both heart failure.

One more turn of a corner and he was in front of the door to the café. A door he opened only to promptly shut it. What was with adults?! His brow ticked as he stood there in front of the entry. His fingers tightened on the parasol’s shaft as he willed away the scene and the sounds alike.

“Couldn’t you two get a room!”

Did neither of his parents know any shame?

Not that HeLin was a prude by any means. He still indulged in manga and novels; especially the yaoi ones he once would borrow from Hokusai. Ah. His Aka’s collection was small, but it had good tastes!

Now it was just a burden finding something good, but it helped. A slight balm to the ache he felt at the absence of the other he couldn’t find. Though it was always temporary and made the dreams and nightmares even more painful and real for him. He’d rather be torn into a dozen pieces by XingHua (who feverishly declared not to have that bad juju put on it) then suffer another night of them. Because at the end of them the loneliness was profound.

Walking down the street towards the Deep Mountain Shrine, HeLin stared up at the sky. The stars were almost a near perfect alignment with the elements that had been singing that day, now that he realized it. Their glow just as somber as he stepped out from the theatre from the opening night.

The seat that was never filled by his partner in the row with his fathers taunting him through the entire play. It took a good deal of strength not to falter in his performance until the very end. Dinner didn’t even happen that evening, further misaligning the proposal between the brooding priest and vibrant nagual. Instead they found themselves rushing back to Hanakaze that was in ruin.

Takane and his disciples already missing along with his Aka, and the Hanahara clan all but killed to the last drop. Not even Shiori’s corpse had been accounted for.

It was only later that he learned a great oni had descended upon the shrine with his hunting band. The might of the small force smashing through fragile barriers and destroying everything when Shiori-chan had gone back on her promises.

The onmyouji that once studied there had vanished entirely too. Probably seclusion to avoid the wrath of the Akiyama? HeLin wasn’t sure. All he knew was his Aka was taken with them; unless it had been the oni instead.

A sigh left him, and his attention dropped. Coming towards him was a man tall and slender of build that looked slightly like himself with matching twin moles under the right eye, but also like his Otou-san with his dark hair and blue eyes. Akiyama Touma was the half-brother of his true father Hua Jin, and of his adoptive father Toya Benri. Why was he coming this way? And in the garb of one seeing to a Night Hunt no less?

“Nephew.” The man beamed – smile benevolent as always. “It is most auspicious I meet you on my stroll. Would you care to join me? The mountain spirits spoke of a great resentful energy tonight, and I wish to see the aftermath.”

All his troubled thoughts left his mind at that one word – “Aftermath?”

“Hai. Something calamitous appeared in the mountains, I am heading there now.”

Without hesitation that parasol was turned. The form reshaped to that of the bamboo hat and its veil. Once upon his head it was allowed to drop back down to conceal his presence, and he followed in step with his uncle.

“So, what is it that has you walking this late at night anyways, Lin-chan?”

HeLin winced at the nickname but said nothing more than, “Otou-san and Tou-chan really have no mind for what one shouldn’t do on the café counter.”

“Ah.”

And it was left at that.

One distance shortening array, and they were at the mountain that his uncle had insisted the spirits told him about. His hand resting on the grip of the blade at his hip while HeLin trailed behind him some ten paces and to his left. Not a weapon on the boy, hence the concealment item.

XingHua’s form had long since been changed, after all, to better fit its wielder.

“Here we are.” Touma declared as they broke through underbrush. The sight that immediately welcomed them was horrendous and prompted both cultivator and exorcist to cover their mouths. “Kami spare their souls. This is most gruesome. Can you recognize any of them with a glance? Because I certainly cannot.”

HeLin just stood there staring. His fingers lingered over his lips and he felt that vague itch, but it was even fainter than the markets. For a moment his heart pattered and pittered to hard against his ribs. A frantic look to the red thread made to find it still in good health.

“Nephew?”

“Ah…i-iie.”

“They’re beyond ruined, and the resentful energy is so high I can barely figure out who they were in life.” Touma sounded impressed.

Who wouldn’t be by such a horrid sight? It was like seeing the aftermath of a train wreck and not being able to tear your eyes away, but this one resonated down into the soul. The energy was far too high and HeLin was certain just a spark would set off the liveliness of a thousand corpses beneath their very feet. That thought alone made the young cultivator’s soul quake in fear.

The hairpin was pulled out from his hair then. It was spun around his fingers before the transformative array was released to change its form from pin to zither. The seven string guqin resting across his lap as he fell into a cross legged position with it. The veil still over his features as fingers touched the strings. It was instinct by now. What was left had to be communicated to and restrained. The grounds purified before even corpses destroyed this far become vengeful ghosts walking this wood.

A deep breath drawn in as he played the chords. Touma standing not far off as he watched the area around them prepared to interfere if anything happened. The sacred blade thrumming with energy at his hip wanting to be drawn.

Each note permeated the air with a wish to understand. Words without syllables that played at a soft tempo that beseeched the souls to listen and the land to speak. HeLin had to strive to reach an accord with them first and foremost. To see what had happened here, especially knowing somehow his Aka had been here or involved.

Though what came back was a barrage of images. His mind flooded with the terror and shapeless horror that had tore these men down. The name that was said most ominously making his heart clench. He recognized this one. HeLin swallowed down a breath. That was why Hokusai’s presence was here. These were men of Takane’s and from the way it looked they were attacked by some vengeful spir—

No. A demonic cultivator?

The thought corrected itself, even if the image and thoughts were chaotic, they cleared that up. HeLin swallowed again wishing he had brought a tonic to clear his mind enough for playing this particular arrangement. Once he played through understanding, the melody changed to one seeking to purify and purge away the resentful energy. These bodies twitching as he forced the action upon them. Even dead and near useless in the state they had been tortured to, they tried to animate to attack the cultivator who sought to cast their souls off from the mortal plane.

“Play, Lin-chan, I’ll protect you.” Touma reassured.

HeLin nodded and continued.

One of the bodies jerked upwards from the ground. Their bones in a horrible way, but invisible strings seem to puppeteer it straight at him. The beautiful sword glare of Touma’s katana slicing into two parts right from the sheath. Blackened blood whipped clean of its silver edge to be sheathed and wait for the next corpse that would lunge.

And thus, HeLin’s second night after the market was spent playing until his fingers were numb, and the spirits were cast away so they wouldn’t taint the mountain or the village nearby. Still without any clue telling him where his Aka had gone.

#AU #HeLin #Aka

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crookedflesharchive · 7 years

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mooncanons:

tagged by: @vepid (thank you for always fueling my fleshing out needs) tagging: @kabonvi @theseelenine @inwolvesteeth @hyejvng

1.) what does your muse smell like?

this cologne specifically. described as floral at first, it evolves into something synthetic, clean, musky and slightly disturbing. it evokes the sensations of jack torrance first wandering into room 237, intrigued at first (tugged along by base desires), but only led to something else altogether (frightening and strange). otherwise, moonsik smells very clean, his shampoo and body wash clinging to his hair and skin. there’s always a light smell of cigarette smoke mixed in.

2.) how often does your muse bathe? any bathing habits?

every day, if only due to an almost obsessive paranoia regarding germs. twice sometimes, if he actually goes out and wants to wash the stink of the outside off. there are times he scrubs so hard, his skin tears away and blood trickles down into the drain. he wishes so hard to clean away his outer shell, but is never able to. also, i imagine he looks something akin to a wet dog when he gets out of the shower, with his stupid mop hair. and his head probably brushes against the ceiling, if he happens to shower elsewhere than his apartment.

3.) does your muse have any tattoos or piercings?

he has four (1, 2, 3, 4) tattoos and no piercings. he’s always thinking about what tattoo to get next, but it’d have to be something close to his heart to consider getting it permanently etched into his skin.

4.) any body movement quirks?

moonsik is rather statuesque in how he presents himself. stiff as a board, perfect posture, head held high. anything to seem domineering. he has no nervous quirks, but when he feels embarrassed or awkward, his gaze will drift to the ground and remain there. he cracks his knuckles a lot when the silence starts getting to him. and he bites down on the insides of his cheeks when he gets irritated with someone, but doesn’t want to say anything (this usually fails).

5.) what do they sleep in?

just boxers, except for the rare times he feels cold, then he wears sweatpants. naked, if someone stays the night.

6.) what is their favorite piece of clothing?

a master of puppets shirt he’s had, since high school. it carries a lot of sentimentality for him and he can still fit in it today. he wore it when the band came to seoul in january. it was his first real concert and that only added to how much he adores the shirt. now it hangs up in his closest, rather ragged from all the use, for display only.

7.) what do they do when they wake up?

starts a pot of coffee, brushes his teeth, combs his hair into place, feeds evil, makes some toast if he happens to be hungry, sits on the couch with his coffee and checks social media / text messages / emails, browses the internet for any new Must Have horror memorabilia that might have popped up, takes a shower, then puts on either a horror movie or one of his favorite records for background noise, as he writes, plays games or simply sits there and does nothing. a very boring boy.

8.) how do they sleep?

on his back. he’s known for not moving at all in his sleep, sometimes appearing like a wax figure or a corpse. if he sleeps next to someone, he’ll offer an arm for them to rest their head on, but he absolutely refuses to cuddle or change his position in order to provide warmth / comfort.

9.) what do their hands feel like?

rough for a writer who does no manual labor and has a plush bank account. they are perhaps too large to hold another’s comfortably and typically found to be cold, even during the summer heat. he can easily overwhelm another, if he tries to cradle their face, so prefers to keep them to himself. generally, he hates having them touched, so most can’t remember what exactly they look or feel like, except that they are what one might consider “yaoi hands”.

10.) if you kissed them, what would they usually taste like?

there is always a lingering taste of tobacco and black coffee on his tongue, something that stings like regret, if you allow him to overpower you. maybe a hint of mint, depending on if he had just recently brushed his teeth. the way he kisses is gentle and slow, until you give the signal, then it’s abruptly not. that’s when you can taste something else altogether, but you can not place exactly what.

#█║┊✟ ❝ musings ;#(( i actually wrote this really well i think #(( until you get to the mention of 'yaoi hands' lol #(( i had a lot of fun with this tho #(( i always need an excuse to talk about my terrible boy ;(

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taetaeisbaebae7 · 7 years

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Lawlicht Fanfiction: I’m Here For You~

First of all >w< HAPPY BIRTHDAY @akumanonezumi This is just a token of our friendship from my side <3 Hope you enjoy this day and may be showered with all blessings and blah blah WHY AM I TRYING TO BE SO FORMAL!! IDK HOW TO T///T I’LL JUST BE QUICK WITH THIS <3 THANK U SO MUCH FOR BEING WITH ME AND I REALLY ENJOY OUR TALKS >/////< HOPE U ENJOY UR SPECIAL DAY AND MAY U BE BLESSED WITH LOTS OF LAWLICHT/LICHTLESS TODAY <3 XD

As you know my exams are upcoming TwT (JUST 3 DAYS LEFT T///T) So it might be a bit rushed and i had asked sis to write with me (tho she doesn’t like yaoi she was sweet enough to help since I had exams *33*) Hope u still like it <3 Oh and since u said u like lichtless more, I wrote it like that *^^* and its a bit nsfw-ish ENJOY READING!!! <3

The evening air was chilly as people scurried away, hoping to finish whatever they set out to do before the sunset. The street, full of people that walked with a sense of purpose, also had a man who walked aimlessly through the crowds . Said man had a strange sense of fashion for a chilly evening with his white dress shirt and black pants supported by an orange vest and unusually long black muffler. He wandered the busy street and came to a stop near a small shop. He had blonde hair which changed at the tips, to black. His haunting red eyes saw through red rimmed glasses and his usual goofy smile was replaced by an almost serene look that bordered trouble and hesitant. The owner of the shop called out to the man. “Hey Lawless! Hurry up and come inside. Your shift is about to start.” The addressed man just signed and looked at the owner. “I’m not in the mood today. Maybe next time.” With that, he turned and started walking away. “Hey, you can’t do that……YOU’RE FIRED!!” The manager had managed to say before returning to his shop to tend to it. Lawless just gave a dry laugh. “I don’t care. I was getting tried of it anyway.” His body felt heavy as he let his feet take him to who knows where. He heaved another sign. “Maybe I’m coming down with something…..” He held a hand to his head. “…even after all this time, I still feel shit during this time of the year.”

In a room, a melodious tune could be heard and the audience could interpret it as what they wanted. The sound was light yet heavy at some points. It was almost magical, enchanting anyone who was lucky enough to hear it. A middle aged man with caramel colored hair in a side braid, entered the room and the spell came to an end. “Licht, have you seen Lawless somewhere? I can’t find him anywhere.”

The boy who played the piano pointed an irritated look at the man. He had electric blue eyes and sharp features pulled into a scowl. His hair were like coal with only a single strand of white on his left side. His hair fell over his face covering his forehead. “How should I know where that shit rat is? I would be happy if that damned demon just dies off somewhere.” With that, he continued from where he had left off, filling the room with a beautiful melody. The man just sweat-dropped. “I guess that’s a no…..” Then his face turned concerned. “That’s odd!! He has been gone the whole day and was acting weird this morning.” Hearing this, Licht answered, “when has that shit rat not been weird,” without stopping the music. The man, seemingly not have heard him, left the room muttering along the lines, “Maybe I should go ask Gil to look for him.” This concerned Licht as no matter what or how late the damned vampire was, Kranz never got that worried. Maybe something MUST have been bothering the hedgehog. For a minute or two, he kept playing as his mind wandered elsewhere. Getting frustrated, he got up and decided to look for the demon so he could purify him. Angels forbid if he admitted to himself that he was worried for his partner.

Just as he was about to reach for the door knob, the door burst open, hitting him on the face as he fell backwards, glaring at the door as the culprit steeped in. “Oh Lich-tan!” Lawless had the same sad look on his face which startled the pianist as his eyes widened and his anger dissipated at the Servamp’s odd behavior.

Then as if on cue, the blonde burst out laughing. “You…The stupid angel…actually hit his pretty face on the door…” he managed between laughs. “Oh God! That’s hilarious! I should’ve recorded this o-“ His sentence was cut short as he found himself on the floor clutching his stomach, as Licht stood with his foot in the air, his anger back on full force.

“Damn Shit rat!! Just shut up and die! I can’t believe I was worried for a worthless demon like you,” he said between gritted teeth and left, with Lawless’s face from when he entered, still in his mind. The blonde who had heard him shot straight up, as he repeated in a hushed tone what Licht had said. “Lich-tan was worried?” His heart sped up at the thought as a light blush, barely noticeable, appeared on his face, a grin threatening to make an appearance. The Servamp got up, dusted himself off and smirked thinking, “This angel somehow always manages to light my mood up without even trying” and followed Licht to the piano. Then transformed into a hedgehog and sat beside the table. Licht continued playing but suddenly stopped as he didn’t hear a sound from the vampire. He looked towards the unusually silent animal and found it to be asleep. It snored softly, it’s little body curled up into a ball. Licht looked at him thoughtfully as his hand made its way towards the small animal’s head and petted it lightly and affectionately, as his eyes unbeknownst to him, gradually softened ad the face that had an irritated look, had a soft smile that could take your breath away. The animal had leaned towards his warm hand and sneezed, startling Licht out of his thoughts. The raven-haired teen gently picked up the hedgehog, careful not to wake him and laid him down on his bed. For a while, he sat there, stroking the hedgehog. Then, he slowly got up and started to move towards his piano. As soon as his had left the hedgehog, it stirred, alarming him but soon returned to his peaceful slumber. Licht continued in his way and sat at the piano, contemplating what to perform as his hands automatically started to play the tones of a soft lullaby. After an hour or so, Licht stopped playing, his whole body froze. He stayed still for a while…..Maybe it was just his imaginati-There it was again!! A pained gasp! Licht, puzzled, turned and scanned the room and his eyes widened a fraction, as he they landed on the bed. The place where he had set down and tucked in the cute hedgehog, lay the animal in his humanoid form. The sheets were sprawled on the floor as Lawless laid down on his stomach. His hands were gripping the covers so tightly, that his knuckles had turned white and Licht swore he got a whiff of blood as his nails must’ve dug into his skin through the sheets. Concerned, he moved closer to the entity that occupied the bed and the frown deepened as he saw it gasping, so as to suppress the sobs that were racking its body. “Oi….,” he prodded but the figure made no indication to have heard him and curled in on itself. A miracle happened, as Licht opened his mouth again. “Hyde….” It was a miracle by itself cuz not only had the grumpy Eve addressed the hedgehog by his name, but his tone was concerned and panicky as well. “What’s wrong?” Licht moved from his spot and reached out his hand. It touched the vampire’s face and Licht noticing the dampness there, recoiled, his eyes wide. “He’s…crying….?” He thought back at the time he had spent with the demon and never once had he seen such a pained expression on the Servamp’s face. Just then, Lawless screamed bringing the pianist out of his stupor. “NOO!! DON’T!” Lawless sat up, his hand in front of him. “STOP OPHELIA!! DON’T GO!!”

Licht was shocked as the voice heard from the blonde’s mouth was painful, like it had endured so much and was just about to break. As if with each passing second, his sanity was being ripped from him and he was going to become a broken shell of what he used to be. The thought scared Licht as he thought of Lawless as an empty puppet. He felt his heart squeeze in his chest, as he tried to even his breathing. “Hyde….stop….” His voice cracked and he looked at Lawless, who was clutching his heart, as he willed himself to breath the voice. Before Licht knew it, he had his hands encircled around the vampire’s abdomen. The raven teen sensed the blonde’s muscles as he started thrashing at the warm contact. “NO! OPHELIA! COME BACK….DON’T GO….I CAN’T….” Licht, now having no other choice, pinned him down by force and used his hands to straddle him as his hands gripped the blonde’s arms and held them to the bed on either side of his head. “Hyde! Calm down!” Licht shouted. “Its just a nightmare,” he said as he rested his forehead on his partner’s.

Upon hearing his master’s voice, Lawless calmed down. Licht sensing this, let go of his arms as he backed away, but not getting off him and just sat on his firm abdomen. He eyed the male cautiously as his heart decided to race a marathon and he found himself panting heavily.

Lawless’s eyes fluttered open as Licht felt his pwn frown disappear as a relieved smile made its way to his face. “Yo! Stupid rat,” he sighed after gaining his breath as he saw the familiar red of his Servamp’s eyes come back. Tension left his body as he slumped his hand on the vampire’s chest, heaving another big sigh of relief. Lawless was disoriented he noticed, so he brought his hands to the demon’s face and made him look in the eye. “Hey, Hyde I sai-“ He was cut off as he felt a pair of lips collide with his own and he fell on his back as Lawless cradled between his legs and one of his arms encircled the his waist while the other went under his head as the vampire brought their bodies close, rubbing each others. Licht froze as his mind went on an untimely vacation at the sudden turn of events thus leaving him unable to kick the demon. Lawless was desperate as he forced his tongue into his master’s mouth, exploring every cavern. Licht felt his heart run on an intergalactic race as his body fell hot under the demon’s cold touch. Clenching desperately the bed sheet’s, he mustered his will to mouth Lawless’s name once more but before he could respond in any way, he felt the vampire pull back and hug him. Licht, now panting, tried to push him away but froze as he heard him utter some words leaving Licht speechless and all his emotions freeze over in a flash. Lawless, as he hugged his master tighter, repeated again in a soft murmur, “I love you….Ophelia….”

Oh….Lawless had thought he was Ophelia…. That explains the kiss doesn’t it…LIKE HELL IT DOES! Licht felt himself get irritated as once again his heart raced and the next thing he knew, he had kicked the poor hedgehog off the bed and was now hovering over him. Lawless had a confused frown over his face as he gently rubbed the sore spot on his head. “ OWW!!! WHAT WAS THAT FOR LICH-TAN!?!” Looking into the angel’s eyes he felt a shudder run down his spine. They were cold and full of rage. If looks could kill, then the poor hedgehog would’ve begged them to, because the glare Licht was directing at him right now would even have Satan run for his money and his future did not have a pleasant ring to it at the moment. Licht grabbed the collar of Lawless’s shirt as he yanked him closer so that the two looked eye-to-eye. This brought up a mild blush on the demon’s face, which went by unnoticed by Licht in his fit of anger. “You damn demon!! I’ll kill you! No wait…I’ll obliterate every little particle of your existence and have it so no one even remembers that there was ever a ‘Lawless’ in this world!!” He fumed. Lawless trying to get a hold of his bearings, blurted out, “ What did I do??!”

GRAVE MISTAKE! Licht had a small tiny piece of reason with him telling him to stop, but was unfortunately that was kicked harder than Lawless ever was as Licht snapped.” What did YOU do??!? WHAT DID YOU DO YOU ASK?!?!” Lawless trembled trying to disappear realizing his blunder. “Damn demon! You have the nerve to kiss me when I’m trying to help you!! And not only that, you kissed me thinking of her!! Do I look like some kind of replacement of her to you?!?!” Lawless was completely lost trying to make sense of the pianist’s rants. “ I don’t get yo-Wait……does this mean…it would be okay if I kiss you thinking of you??”

“Shit rat!!” Licht roared and Lawless wished, closing his eyes, that eternal blissful sleep would come before he feels the impact of the human’s kick but he kept them open as he stared at Licht’s closed ones as the pianist smashed their lips together. Lawless felt as he if he was dreaming cause his angel was kissing him ON ITS OWN. He smirked but then gasped, as Licht slammed his head on the ground. Licht, availing this opportunity, deepened the kiss as he used his tongue to explore the demon’s mouth and his hands were now in Lawless’s hair, caressing his skull, eliciting a moan from the blonde. Licht smirked against the kiss as he stopped caressing his hair and moved them down under his shirt and his digits ghosted over the vampire’s bare chest. He was on auto pilot as he laid down on Lawless and explored the demon’s well built and toned torso at which Lawless moaned loudly, the noise silenced by the kiss. At long last, Lawless started to respond as his hands circled the angel’s waist. Lawless playfully traced his hands up the angel’s back, making it arch its back with a pleasured moan following. The human squirmed as the vampire caressed his nails across the soft skin. Lawless slowly descended his hands, desperate for more thrilling reactions from his Eve, but Licht being the sadist he was, broke their kiss. The only thing heard in the room was panting of the two inhabitants, their breathes mingled, as Licht was still close to Lawless. Lawless examined the angel’s face which was flushed red and gleaming with sweat. Despite that, Licht had a triumphant grin plastered on his face.

He bent down and licked Lawless’s neck where the vampire would usually bite him. Then he straightened up and stood, leaving Lawless on the ground a mess. “Let’s see you think of someone else while kissing someone,” the angel said as his already evil grin transformed into a more smug one. With that, he left the room to Lawless and his disoriented thoughts which were trying to make out what had happened. WHAT IN THE WORLD HAD GOTTEN IN HIS SWEET ANGEL!!~~

#happy birthday <3 #@akumanonezumi #lawlicht #servamp #fanfiction #lawlicht fanfic #fanfic #a bit nsfw??#my fanfiction

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chickpow · 7 years

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Romeo and Juliet

Chickpow here: I found an old disc/floppy disc in my attic containing a lot of very old fanfiction from authors and websites that are either gone or taken down. I am not the author but I would like to share what I’ve found. if you find the author please let me know so I can credit them properly. Thank you and enjoy

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Romeo and Juliet

Okay, lets get started. First and foremost, I don’t own anything and I am completely broke. But thanks to DBZ there is a story, and thanks to dear old Shakespeare, it is almost original. Now this story is rated NC-17. Get some lemonade, it’s hot. Yaoi, Goten/Trunks, and lots of fluff. Be warned.

Romeo and Juliet

By: Melly-chan

Junior Hopkins High School for boys. The dubbed, Hell on Earth. It is a nice campus, if one cared what a prison looked like. To the students, it is ultimately a joke. All the classes are ride through and even a jock can pass.

Why the school is announced as pristine is beyond me. It sucks. The teachers suck, the classes suck, hell even the students sucked. But who am I to say that, I am one of the students.

One good side that the school possesses, is that Gohan had not attended. It is all I need to spend another year in his shadow. Constantly being sold as the ‘let down’ of the family.

"Chichi is such a nice woman and Gohan is so intelligent. I wonder what went wrong with that youngest though. He is a strange one."

Okay so I never exactly heard anyone say that, but I know they thought it. How could they not? In all truth, I am the strange one. My mother, the kind loving soul who hit people with frying pans. My brother, the nerd who loved

books more than freedom. Goten, myself, the strange one.

I admit, I have done some things in my life that do not constitute my family. Scaling the side of skyscraper being one. Braking into people houses being another. But I didn’t steal anything, I only rearranged the furniture.

Sometimes I can’t help but wonder if they had actually liked it better that way. . .

Mother had heard about the ‘great’ school and had signed me up.

"The curriculum will be hard. Maybe that will get you to study more. For one thing, it will keep you out of trouble."

Yeah right.

The only other good part about the lame ass school, is that Trunks shares in my boredom. Bulma had taken mom’s advice and had enrolled him. It they thought that would solve the problem, they forgot one thing, the only reason

we got in trouble in the first place was because we were together.

Solve it, right. Like enrolling us in some lame school is going to beat us into being their little puppets. Some children that they can shape to there will. Mom had been lucky with Gohan, but she would get no such satisfaction out of me. I am my own man.

So here I am, at school. Again. The sky is blue. The grass is green. What more description do you need?

Trig; snoozer. History; tu forte? French; Bonjour un sucer. Who cares.

Theater Arts. Now there’s a class. You could literally fall asleep and maintain that perfect A. The teacher didn’t care, so long as you participate when needed. That is why the class is last period. All the snoozers, like

me, would join just to goof off for the last period of the day before we goofed off at home, or wherever our fancy leads us.

The best part is that Trunks is in my class. We are the clowns you see, we upset the class, speak ‘shocking’ and always get away with it. Who didn’t love us. Plus, out teacher was about the only female on campus. And we are

the hottest guys. Get my connection?

It wasn’t like that really, but she did have some interesting thoughts in her head.

That’s for damn sure.

Today is like all other days. She talks we pretend to listen. And then she hits us, with the killer, the ultimate ki blast, the mother of all shockers.

"We," she meant this class, "are putting on a play. It will be Romeo and Juliet."

"Alright!" Some one yelled. "Your gonna bring in some babes for us to kiss!"

"Wrong. This is an all male school and so this will be an all male production."

"What?!"

I couldn’t have heard her right. She wanted us, a bunch of teenage boys, to perform in the most romantic, tear jerking, dramatic love story of all time, and she wasn’t going to grant us the knowledge of a female role? No! This

was not happening. Men do not kiss men. Men only kiss girls. Is she demented or something?

Why ask, she is.

The classes response ranges like my own.

"Why that one?"

"The school insists on Shakespeare."

"But why that one? Why not Hamlet?"

"They are not going to accept violence in the school. So no wars."

"But Ms. Keene, that is just sick!"

"I don’t want to hear another word. I have already decided. And knowing you, I have already selected the roles. They are posted in the back you can read them on the way out."

With that, the bell rings. I have no intention of checking that list. I do not what to be a part of this play. As far as I am concerned, I would prefer being a stagehand, or even a light person. There was no way they were going

to get me on stage, and in tights no less.

Several boys leer at me on their way out the door. Their expressions ones of amusement and humor. What crawled up their butts?

Trunks enters my line of sight, and I glance over to him. He is relaxed, waiting for the crowd to diminish before he attempts to read his part. He is calm and laid back. I don’t know whether that is because he is confident he

knows what part he is getting, or if it is just the way he feels today.

Only a few scragglier are left behind, and Trunks and I move forward. The list is long, given the size of the class and the number of parts. Near the bottom, I find Trunks’ name. Romeo. No surprise. Then I find my name.

"JULIET??????? You have got to be kidding me!!!!!! I am not going to play some girl! There is now way, you can’t make me!!!"

"Goten, calm down." Ms. Keene says. I pant furiously. How dare she cast ME as the girl. The one that has to kiss. . . . Gulp.

I’m going to to have to kiss Trunks.

The room suddenly starts spinning.

"Goten!" Trunks calls as he grabs my arm, attempting to steady me. I’m going to have to kiss him. . . .

"Goten, It’s not that bad. Your best friends right? Your friendship should be able to pull you through this. Come on, this is nothing."

Nothing she says. I am going to have to kiss my best friend. Several times. On stage. In front of everyone!

Hell no everything is not okay.

How do they expect me to take this? They are going to put me in a dress, stick me on stage and demand that I kiss Trunks. The world is ending. It must be. Since when did the schools come up with such perverted ideas. Making two boys kiss in public like that. What do they expect, a Grammy?

Hello no. Even Steven Spielberg wouldn’t go this far.

My life is hell.

Have I already said that? No? Well then here, I will say it again, my life is hell.

I look at Trunks’s unemotional face. One of his many features that he had inherited from his father. He revealed nothing. Even his eyes showed nothing but a dank emptiness. His reaction was a mystery. Well, he is on the

receiving end. He has to be feeling something. At least he doesn’t have to wear a dress.

"I suggest you boys sleep on it. You will be more comfortable with it in the morning."

Bloody hell, no.

The next day, I feel worse.

"And how is Juliet feeling today? Getting ready for that big smacker?"

"You say one more word to me, punk, and you wont have a smacker, or a life force for that matter."

"Oh, my sweet little kissy pooh." He obviously had heard the recent conversation. "Why not share a kiss? I’m sure ol’ Mr. Hefty would love to let you do a little number on his science desk."

This time, I do hit him. But not hard. Well, not by Saiyan standards.

He doesn’t speak again for a few more weeks.

Theater class is even harder. Ms. Keene hands out our scripts. "Now, I want you to be fully dedicated to these parts." She says. "I know it will be difficult for you, but the play is not that hard. You will get it. Trust me."

Trust her. Ya right, she cast me as the girl.

"Goten, I know this will be exceptionally hard for you, but just know that it is all acting. It is fake. And you have no way out of it."

Kissing noises come from behind me. Satisfaction would be to throw a large ki blast at them and see them wallow in their misery. The bastards.

"Rehearsals will start on Monday. Have a nice weekend."

Bitch. Nice weekend in deed. What weekend do I have to look forward to? Life is hell, this is my hell.

There is no way I am telling my family. Then they would want to come to the play and I’ll be damned if I let them see me in a dress. I was better off saying nothing. If I am lucky, they won’t say anything.

The weekends are always too short, and the week too long. But this time, it feels like it will never end, and for once, I am not happy about that.

Trunks decides to show up early Saturday morning. He’s dressed to spar, and I don’t need to ask. We know.

Mom on the other hand, does not.

"Oh, Trunks. It’s nice to see you. What will you be needing today?"

"I came over to spar with Goten."

"Is that all everyone ever does. Spar? You know, I am getting very tired of hearing that. All you men ever want to do is spar. Can’t you think of any better way to pass your time, like studying."

"I’m sorry Chichi, but we can’t help it. It’s in our blood."

"Oh, just get out of here, the both of you. And you better not come home all bloody again."

"Yes mom."

After living with a Saiyan, and two half Saiyans in her house for so many years, is she still yet to realize that it is our nature to fight. There is nothing we can do about it. It is an impulse.

We land in a clearing, deep inside the forest. We don’t come often to this particular spot, but is has been used several times. All one needs to tell that is to look around. The clearing is wider then it should be, trees that

were pulled up and tossed aside. A memory comes to me, one where Trunks had used a tree as a baseball bat, and my head as the ball.

Sure we could get vicious, but it was all in good fun. Nothing more.

Trunks lands in the center of the clearing, and removes his CC jacket. The coat is mindlessly tossed aside, and Trunks crouches into a fighting stance. I follow his example, and the battle is on.

We fight for hours, neither getting the best of the other. We are equally matched. Trunks lands a blow in my cheek, I feel the skin tear slightly, but I shake it off. He is rewarded with a jab in the stomach. You know, basic,

fun fighting. Nothing too bad.

Afterward, we are bruised and bloodied. So much for mom. I lay on my back and stare up at the trees. The day is slowly fading into night. The blue sky turns red and orange. The stars begin to sparkle.

"What are we going to do?" Trunks asks.

"I don’t know. Prissy Ms. Keene decided we would be perfect for the roles, and it looks like she has her fat heart stuck on it."

"It’s going to be so weird."

"Tell me about it."

"Promise me one thing."

"Ya?"

"It won’t. . . It won’t damage our friendship. You know, we’ll be cool with it."

"No prob."

On Monday, there was a problem.

"We will not be learning the play straight through, we will be learning it sections at a time, and I have already mapped out the schedule. Since we have four weeks to do this play, we will be practicing for an hour every day

after school. That will give us over an hour and a half every day. Now, there are five scenes in Romeo and Juliet. For your benefit, I shall label them. First, there is the party. And yes, this is the kissing scene. We will

be doing this scene the last week before production. Second, the balcony scene. Now I have checked, and it never mentions them kissing, so you get out of it. Unless you annoy me and I change that. Third, the battle and the

honeymoon. No comments there. Fourth, the fake death, and Five, the dramatic end. This week, we will start with the death and end. They are the shortest scenes and I want to get you in the mood. Then the balcony scene, the battle and then, yes, the kissing scene. We will meet on Saturday before opening night for a dress rehearsal. The play will run for a week. Got that cleared up? Good, now I’m tired of talking, start."

God, that woman could talk. She spent most of class period belting out that little monologue.

I am not thrilled about this at all. How the Hell am I suppose to act like a woman? I don’t want to! If things had turned out to my liking, I would be one of the lucky few who were placed in charge of the set. They didn’t have to memorize lines, they didn’t have to wear a dress, they didn’t have to kiss their best friend.

My life is hell.

For a week, I get to play dead. For a week, I get to memorize stupid lines for a role I don’t want. Not to mention that this friggin’ Juliet has about a million lines in these scenes. God, who cares. Do we really need to listen

to this chick talk to herself? Give me a break!

Unfortunately, life did one of its twists. They say that times goes by when you’re having fun. Ya right. Whoever said that needs to be drug into a dark alley and shot. I was most definitely not having fun, but time flew by. It

was like time had decided to get the easy stuff over with, and bring on the parts I could live without.

All too soon, it is week four.

The dreaded week.

The poisoned week.

Monday, was cool, we spent most of our time setting up the props on the stage. No prob. Tuesday, we memorized lines. Wednesday, walk through. Thursday, day off to get fitted. Oh, the agony, I look like a girl in that dress. They even bought a wig! Sure the wig was nice, it looked real, but it was going to be on me! And I was going to be in a dress! With makeup! My life is hell.

Friday, the last day. Tomorrow will be the dress rehearsal, and then, the play. Can I just curl up and die right now?

Today, she decides to act through the scene. Straight through, she says, no breaks.

The kissing is at the end of the scene.

I do well in spite of myself. Maybe acting is my thing, but then, that doesn’t mean I have to like the role.

Trunks is good. He maintains his unemotional façade, untouched by events. Some times, I wish I had that ability. To remain so cool, so calm, so calculated. To not have anything effect me, to be indifferent. You have to

admire that about Trunks. He could look like an emotionless bastard on the outside, but you just know that inside, he is screaming.

"Alright, here we go. The last section. Boys, and Goten, get prepared for the kissing scene."

She really is sick.

I stand in my spot, waiting. I do not want to do this. With everyone around, everyone watching. I do not want to kiss him in front of them. Not in private. . .

Whoa, Hello! Where did that thought come from? God, this stress is getting to me. I just implied kissing my best friend in private. What is wrong with me? Okay, shake it off, here we go.

"If I profane with my unworthiest hand,

This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this:

My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand

To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss." Trunks acted.

"Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,

Which mannerly devotion shows in this;

For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch,

And palm to palm I holy palmers’ kiss."

"Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?"

"Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer."

"O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do.

They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair."

"Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake."

"Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take."

Trunks move in closer. His lips right above mine, close.

I laugh. The mood is broken, I know, but I laugh. The boys with the sets had stopped to watch, the extras in the seats, they all laugh. I can not help myself. My face turns red. I bend over, holding my stomach. I laugh.

"ENOUGH!" Ms. Keene bellows. The laughing dies down. "I will not put up with this. You have one day, one day to get this right, and if you laugh again," she points to me, "You will get a drop F."

Talk about initiative, my mom would flip if I failed the class. I had to talk her into it in the first place, now I might lose my freedom of choice, forever. I can not fail the class.

I look over to Trunks, as always, a mask of indifference. He had not laughed.

The theater empties, soon only Trunks and I are left.

"I don’t want to fail." I say.

"I know, I don’t either." He looks at me, "We are going to have to get this right."

"What should we do?"

He sighs, "Practice, I guess."

Practice? He wants to practice kissing me? You have got to be kidding me! Wait, what about that thought I had had earlier, in private. What did that mean? Do I want to kiss him? Do I want him to kiss me? I furrow my eyebrows, thinking.

"Goten."

"Ya?"

"Let’s get out of here. It’s depressing."

I shrug.

We fly above the town. I follow Trunks. When we land we are at the edge of a cliff. The desert is spread out before us, we are alone. Trunks walks to the edge of the cliff and sits, dangling his feet over the edge. I follow.

We sit, silent. Nothing, but the sound of the air, the day.

"We are going to have to do this."

"I know." I say.

Neither of us move, and time stands still. I don’t want to make the first

move.

Trunks looks at me with his emotionless eyes. His jaw is set. He looks into my eyes, and I wander. I have never realized how very blue his eyes are. Dull, yes, emotionless, yes, but strikingly blue. Blue like the sky, when

the rain has cleared and the sun pours through. Blue like a waterfall, that cascades over a cliff and into the murky river. Blue.

How could I not have noticed? His eyes were always there. As far back as my memories go, he was there. I eyes, his hair, his lips.

His lips.

He moves closer, and I am silent. My breath is in my throat, and I wait. His lips touch mine, so slightly. Feather soft, hesitant. I close my eyes.

He kisses me. His lips pressed to mine, almost forcefully. His hand at my neck, pulling me closer.

My blood is rushing. My head is soaring. Electricity is shooting through my veins. I grab his shirt, my knuckles white.

The kiss goes on. His hand on my back, on my neck. His lips on mine.

His mouth opens, his tongue rubs my lips, pleading.

I open.

His tongue enters my mouth, hot and dominating. I melt. Our tongues dance, rubbing, tasting, demanding. So good.

Trunks.

Trunks!

My eyes shoot open and I pull back. I am breathing hard, and so is he. He looks at me, questioning.

His eyes, God, his eyes. The emotionless veil had been lifted, and in his eyes, I see everything. At the forefront, love.

I feel faint. He loves me? When did that happen?!?

"Trunks?"

"Goten. . . I, I wanted to tell you. I did. I know that you are not that way, but please, listen. I have loved you for as long as I can remember. I never dated because no girl ever compared to you. You are everything to me. Please, I know you don’t feel the same, but remember, you did kiss me back."

"We. . . we were practicing. . ."

He looks at me. I feel small. What am I to say? He is holding his heart out

in his hands and I, the blubbering idiot, can not think of what to say!

"Trunks. . ."

"This got weird didn’t it?"

I look up, "Huh?"

"We promised it wouldn’t get weird, it did. I’m sorry." His eyes were emotionless again. Trunks stands up, gives me one last look, and flies off. I can not make a sound.

I sit for long hours. Thinking. About the play, our promise, and Trunks. It had felt so good to kiss him. I could melt into a puddle of eternal bliss. I have never felt this way before. I have kissed girls, many. But this was

new. This was like a romance novel. You never think I could possibly be as good as they describe, but this, it is. In so many ways, if not better.

I can still taste him in my mouth. Still feel the aftermath of his kiss. If I try, I can feel his tongue touching mine. Savoring me.

When did I get these feeling? Just days ago, hell just hours ago, I refused to kiss him. I protested, loudly, but now, all I want is his lips on mine.

Romeo. Trunks.

The play. I open my eyes. I will show him tomorrow at rehearsal. A smile spreads across my face. Life is good.

I get there early. The early bird gets the worm, well the early Goten gets his man.

Trunks is late. Fifteen minutes, he is late.

I have already been stuffed and prodded into my dress and wig. Thankfully no makeup today. Where is that boy? If I must suffer through wearing a dress, the least he can do is show up to kiss me.

Half an hour.

"Where is Trunks?" Ms. Keene asks redundantly. Right, like I hadn’t noticed.

"He better get his scrawny ass here soon. . ."

Scrawny? No way Ms. Bitch, his ass is not scrawny.

Where is he?

The back doors fly open, and Trunks enters. Fashionably late.

I nearly faint. He is wearing form fitting black pants, a tight black tank,

and his favorite CC jacket. He looks hot, as usual.

"Well, Romeo finally decides to show up. An excuse maybe?"

Trunks flashes her a grin. "Nope."

His eyes scan the stage, they go right over me. A frown is on his beautiful face.

"Well lets get started." Ms. Keene says. Trunks disappears into the back to get dressed.

Rehearsal starts. It goes smoothly. No mistakes.

Then I enter. Trunks looks at me. Does a double take, and his eyes widen. I guess he didn’t recognize me.

I say my lines.

He speaks, like in a trance. His eyes never leave me. Everyone thinks he is

acting. Pretending to be love struck. But I see his eyes. He is.

He loves me.

I lean forward, and he kisses me. Line, kiss, line kiss. Three kisses. Each

as soul shattering as the last.

The boys chuckle off stage. The play continues.

I die and he holds me in his arms, sorrow in his voice. He cries over me and

for a moment, I fancy the truth. Would he cry over me, if I really died?

Yes.

The play ends, my head is on his chest, in death. He can not fake death, his breathing is fast and obvious.

The curtain closes and I stand up. Trunks follows. I look at his eyes and for a moment, I see a flash. Pain?

"Trunks. . ."

The curtain opens and the rest of the boys climb onto the stage.

"Good, that was actually good. Do it like that next week, and you will all get A’s. Dismissed."

I glance at Trunks before I head into the changing room. It feels good to get out of this ridiculous dress.

Trunks is waiting at the door when I exit. He turns, silent, and walks. I follow. We walk across the city, the long way to his house.

"Trunks."

He turns.

"I need to talk to you. About yesterday."

He flinches and turns away from me.

"I. . . I know I hurt you. I didn’t mean to, really. I didn’t know. I had no

clue. But now. . . now I can see it. I know you love me and. . . I love you

too."

"As a friend right?"

"No."

He turns back to me, his face full of hope.

"I love you Trunks. It took your kiss for me to figure it out. But I do love you, as a boyfriend, a lover, a husband. Whatever you want."

Trunks stairs at me. His breaths are slightly labored, and his lips are parted. I see doubt cross his eyes. I grab his hand and take off for a more secluded area. We end up in the park. Trees surround us. I pull him into my

arms, and kiss him with all my might.

His hands wrap around me and he takes over. His tongue delves into my mouth like it had before. The kiss is deep and intimate. The kiss of lovers. Two star-crossed lovers.

I smirk, maybe the play wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

*****

Now, on opening night, I am dead nervous.

I feel like vomiting. My dress feels too tight, my head is dizzy, I am miserable. Trunks comes up behind me and puts his hands on my shoulders.

"Breath, just breath. Everything will be okay. Calm down."

I take his advice and breath. It does help. Trunks wouldn’t lie to me, everything will be okay.

"Hey guys!" Some kid says. "Everyone is here! The play is packed! Hey, Goten, I can even see your family."

WHAT!!!!!!!

I hadn’t told them anything about the play. They couldn’t have known. I stick my head slightly out the curtain and look into the audience. Sure enough, there they are. Mom, Gohan, Videl, Pan, and little Goku, the newest

addition to the family, sitting next to Trunks’s family in the middle of the auditorium.

I start to hyperventilate. I can’t breath. My family is here. They will see me in a dress, as a girl, on stage. Kissing Trunks. Okay, so I had planned to tell them some time, but not so soon! Even Vegita was out there!

"Whoa, Goten, are you okay?" Trunks says.

"Do, I look, okay?" I gasp.

"Well, no. You look like you are hyperventilating. What’s wrong?"

"My family is here!"

"You didn’t want them here?"

"NO!"

Trunks’s face turns red. "Um, well, I, um, well, that is. . ."

"What?"

"I kinda told them."

"YOU WHAT???"

"Shhhhhh." Numerous people call, finger to mouth.

"You invited my family to see me in a dress???"

"It wasn’t like that! The subject kinda came up one time and I mentioned that you had a lead role. They said they wanted to come."

"Did you tell them what the play was?"

"Well, no, I-"

I almost faint. My head swoons and I am on my way to the floor. Trunks catches me, of course, but how could he? He told my family to come, but didn’t mention I was playing the girl?

"Goten! Goten! Come on, come on, wake up. Your okay, everything is okay. Wake up."

I groan. "I’m gonna kill you Trunks." I slur.

"Okay, okay, you can kill me later, but right now you have to wake up. They

play is about to start."

I groan. I don’t want to do this anymore. My life is hell.

I sit in a chair, my head between my knees, trying to compose myself. I didn’t go on until the end of Act 1, but that was the important scene. The scene where I kiss Trunks.

I by time I get myself composed, it is time to go on. I pull my head up, and enter the stage.

I murmur goes up among the crowed. I hear some people commenting on what a pretty girl Juliet is. I hear my family gasp. I hear Vegita laughing.

I hear myself dying.

I deliver my lines perfectly, the way I am suppose to. Get your mind off the crowd and do your job, I tell myself. Easier said then done.

Trunks enters, wearing his tights and tunic. His legs are shown off perfectly and for a moment I feel jealous that all of these people get to see him like this, and not just me.

I hear Vegita laugh again.

The moment has come. The kiss. I can almost hear my mother holding her breath. She knows what is suppose to happen.

We kiss. Once, twice, three times. The kissing scene is over. We lived.

After that, I lost myself in the play. The words envelop me and I can see nothing but Trunks, and me, and the stage. Nothing else matters.

We lay dead at the end, the curtain falls.

Cheers rise up from the audience and I pull myself up off Trunks’ chest. We line up for our bows, and the curtain rises. Everyone is on their feet, cheering. Even my family, Trunks’ family, and Vegita. It was exhilarating,

to be up in front of so many people. To be cheered and loved for the performance. The experience is deafening. I feel alive and excited. All to soon, it is over.

I remove my costume quickly, making sure to get every dab of makeup off.

I exit the auditorium, and mine and Trunks’ family are waiting for us on the corner. Trunks is leaning against the wall, waiting. I give everyone a nervous smile.

"Goten, you did great." Gohan says.

"Ya, uncle Goten, you did real good as a girl, he he he."

"Pan, stop that." Gohan said to his young daughter.

A smirk is on Vegita’s face. But he remains silent.

I feel incredibly nervous. "I hadn’t meant for you to come."

"Why not honey?" Mom says.

"Um, well, I, didn’t really want you to see that."

"Oh, it’s okay honey, you were only acting."

That’s what she thinks. I meant every word.

Talk about your acquired situation. What are you suppose to say when your family has seen you perform as the opposite gender? Have a nice day? See you later? Austa Lavista?

I can not wait to get out of here.

*****

By the end of the week, I finally felt better. With each performance, I felt more comfortable, and the pre-performance jitters disappear by closing night. The crowd response became even more exhilarating. It quickens my heart and swells my head. I did good, and they were open to show it. I didn’t mind so much that they though me a girl, but their response, wow. I feel alive with their praise. It would almost be as good to get the praise

from Trunks.

Or perhaps better.

As it is, the play is over. No more after school practices. No more stolen kisses in front of an audience, no more Ms. Keene getting kinky ideas.

I am going to miss it.

I roll onto my side, a Saturday morning. The sun creeps in through my window, pertaining to the wondrous day. I pull my arm up over my head, not wanting to wake up. My bed is warm, comforting. I can spend the day there.

My door bangs, loud enough to make the wood split and take my ears with it. I roll onto my stomach, not wanting to acknowledge it.

"Goten!" Mom calls. I put my pillow on my head.

"Goten! Get up, it’s a beautiful day, don’t spend it in bed!"

"Goten! Trunks is here to see you."

That got me. I leap out of bed and race to my dresser. Cloths fly, I search for clothes, good clothes, sexy clothes, anything! The banging has stopped. I hear a click behind me, the door opens.

"Mom, I’m-" I blush. It’s Trunks.

His eyes examine me, take me in. I am only wearing boxers. He licks his lips; my blush deepens. He shuts the door behind him, and walks toward me. His eyes flash.

He wraps his arms around me, muscular, strong. His lips reach mine and our eyes close.

I breathe him in. Musk and life. Our tongues touch, a mating dance of their own.

My door bangs again. We pull away from each other quickly, and face the door.

"Goten, get outside. The day is too beautiful to waste." Mom again. Do you think she suspects? Does she know?

Most definitely not, she would faint.

I turn back to my dresser. I still need clothes. I open the drawer and search through the neatly folded stacks. Trunks reaches around me and pulls out his own selection.

He presses himself against my back.

"Wear this." He whispers in my ear. Tingling. His hand is on my bare chest, his mouth at my ear. My pulse quickens, my breath harder.

His tongue is at my ear, kissing, caressing. I shudder and lean my head back. His tongue traces my ear, his mouth nibbles the lobe. My eyes are closed.

He pulls away. My eyes shoot open and I look at him.

"Get dressed."

I get dressed, I hop into my clothes as fast as possible, Trunks stands there, watching. A blush is on my cheeks.

I pull my shoes on and Trunks opens the door.

We fly. We fly out into the forest away from everything. Are we going to spar?

We land in the woods, not our typical fighting grounds. There is no clearing, just trees. Trees all around us, towering above us.

Trunks leaps. He catches me off guard and knocks me over. Only he falls with me. My eyes widen. He is on top of me, pinning me down. His legs are straddling my hips, his hands on my chest.

His eyes are clear, full of love. They burn with intense emotion.

He kisses me. Urgent, needy.

His warmth surrounds me, hot and pulsing. His hands move on me, tracing and touching. I moan into his mouth. He un-tucks my shirt from my pants and slips his hands inside, against my skin.

"Maybe you shouldn’t have dressed at all." His voice is thick and hot. Passionate.

He pulls my shirt up and off. His mouth is on me again, on my chin, my neck, my chest. I loose myself in his touch.

My hands are on his neck, encouraging. His mouth kisses me, his tongue leaves wet trails against my skin. His mouth covers my nipple and I scream out with pleasure, jutting my hips. He smirks, nips, hardening and

caressing. He moves to the other. My pleasure is intense, consuming.

His mouth moves lower, tracing my stomach, circling my navel. I shudder.

His hands are at my hips, at my waistband. My pants are opened and removed, my boxers follow.

I am left naked, and loving it. I am breathing hard, and so is he.

He licks me, I moan. His tongue surrounds me, lapping and consuming. My hands dig into his hair, my hips jerk. He takes me into his mouth and sucks. I cry out and thrust my hips.

His hands go to my hips, holding me down, his pulls back and his tongue is on me, creative and hot. The fire inside of me is building and it consumes me, growing, engulfing. I reef against the ground, consumed by the intensity of the presser growing in my groin. The fire grows, scorching my soul and spreading.

I lose myself.

I spill my seed into his mouth. I cry out.

He swallows as much of my seed as he can, then licks my skin.

I start to descend from my high, my sexual ecstasy. I look into his eyes. Love.

I pull myself up onto my elbows.

"Your still dressed." I smirk.

I pull him into me, kissing him. I can taste myself in his mouth. My hands travel along his back, and down to his tight ass. I squeeze. I break the kiss and move along his skin, his neck, his ear. I undo the top button of his shirt and my mouth moves to the revealed skin. Down, down.

He is on his back, breathing hard. His shirt is open and I pull it off. I kiss him once again. His hips press against mine and I feel his throbbing need. Time to take care of that.

I slip my hand inside his pants and caress his ass.

He moans, his eyes close and he tilts his head back. I open his pants and shove them down his hips. He wiggles, moving his pants lower down his legs. His manhood is pressed against his boxers, aching.

I press my lips against his stomach, just above the waistband, teasing. He groans, clutching my hair, encouraging me to continue. I play with the waistband, just to torture him, before I remove the remainder of his clothes.

He is laying naked before me, glowing in his sweat and need. He is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Perfect in every way.

I lower my mouth to his hardness, taking him deep into my throat. Trunks shakes under me, jerking his hips.

I suck for a few minutes before pulling away. He groans at the loss and looks up to me.

I smile softly and lower my mouth to his. We kiss deeply, lovingly.

"Goten, I-"

I cut him off by straddling his hips. His breath catches in his throat and

he looks up to me.

Words are lost, and he enters me. His length fills me, hurting for a moment, but then I am lost in my pleasure, my completion of being joined by my love. We move together, lost in our rhythm. Lost in our pants, cries, and growing exhilaration.

I feel myself building again, climbing the age-old ladder of ecstasy, the fire building inside of me, growing and spreading once more.

With a final thrust of his hips, I am sent over the edge, I cry out. Trunks looses it at the same time, he pushes deep inside of me and empties his seed, he screams.

We collapse, a jumbled heap of limbs, in the aftermath of our love. I feel whole.

*****

At school we are forced to act indifferent, separate, from each other. It is nearly too hard. To act like friends, and nothing more. To be distant and lost in my schoolwork. How am I to survive without screaming to the world

that Trunks belongs to me. Without threatening everyone who gets to close?

I can feel his presence in the school, and it nearly undoes me. To have my love so close and not be able to be near him. To listen to lame ass teachers lecture about history. I can’t wait until school ends, and then maybe Trunks

and I can go out, alone.

Lunch is the only reprieve I can get. We sit in a corner, separate from everyone.

"So what should we do about dad?"

"What do you mean?"

"I don’t know how my dad is going to react to this. At least your mom is predictable, Chichi will probably faint, but my dad, I don’t know. We are either going to be excepted or beaten."

"I don’t know what to tell you Trunks. He never mentioned his beliefs before."

"Ya, I guess we will just have to tell them, and see. But we can tell your family first."

"Mine? Why not tell your family first, they would probably take it better."

"Well, I want to see your mom’s reaction."

"You already know what will happen. What about your dad?"

"That can wait. Now your family, they are the ones that get emotional about stuff."

"Well your family are cold, ruthless bastards."

"We are also royal."

"Royal pain in the asses."

"You know you like it."

"You know you want it."

"You suck."

"Well, you swallow."

That got him. A blush set on his cheeks. He stands up and grabs my arm, pulling me from my seat. I stumble to get my footing.

He drags me out of the cafeteria and into the hallway. As I am pulled down

the hall, the warning bell rings and students begin to rush to class. But still, Trunks continues.

"Trunks, the bell, we are going to miss class."

No answer, save for a small grunt. We reach the end of the hall and the tardy bell rings. So much for classes.

Trunks pulls a door open and shoves me inside. It’s a janitor’s closet. It is almost large, but narrow. Surely bigger than what they are rumored to be.

He pulls the door closed behind him and locks it from the inside.

"Don’t say things like that unless it is an invite."

With that, he leaps at me, grabbing me around the waist and capturing my lips. His hands are busy at my clothes.

"Trunks. . . school. . ."

"Like I care."

With that, off come our clothes. My back is pressed against the wall and Trunks’ tongue is all over me, tasting, touching. My protests die away, I submit. His mouth covers my throbbing need and I stifle my moans.

His hands roam my skin; I melt. My hands reach his shoulders, pulling. He moves from me, making me gasp at the loss. I look into his eyes.

"We don’t have the time."

He kisses me, and lowers us to the floor. The coldness is against my back. His hand presses my thigh, pulling it up, I move my legs up and around him. Silent, he thrusts into me. I bite my lip.

He moves, faster and faster. I grit my teeth to keep from crying out. The moment is getting closer. I pull his head in for a kiss, we reach our climax. His scream is lost in my mouth.

"Trunks." I pant. Slowly, my head begins to clear.

The doorknob shifts. My head snaps up. A curse is heard through the door and footsteps, walking away. Trunks and I exchange a glance.

We jump to our feet and scramble to our discarded clothes. We pull them on frantically. Trunks finishes first, I hop to the door, pulling my shoe on.

Trunks peaks out the door, then pushes it open. I run past him and down the hall. He locks the door, from the inside, before he follows me.

Minutes later, the janitor arrives with a set of keys.

We decide to tell our families as soon as possible. Basically, that means in as many days as we can dare keep a secret from them.

We settle on Friday, the end of the week and a whole weekend to get use to it.

I can’t tell whether the day came too fast, or not fast enough. On one hand, I want to push the day away, dreading what would happen, people’s reactions. On the other hand, I want to get it over with so I can get back to being

with Trunks. I other words, I am miserable.

Trunks decides to go out on Thursday, just to get our minds off the inevitable. I knock on his door to pick him up, Vegita answers.

"What do you want, brat?"

"Trunks and I are going out."

Oops, bad choice of wording. Vegita doesn’t notice.

He scowls at me, and walks away from the door. I walk in behind him.

A few minutes later, Trunks comes down the stairs, beautiful as always.

We turn and head for the door.

"Trunks! Get over here brat!"

Trunks stops, grimacing, and turns to his father. Taking a deep breath, he walks over to Vegita. He is sitting in his favorite chair, apparently relaxed.

I follow Trunks to his father.

"Now brat, you should know better than to keep a secret from me. Don’t think you can fool me for one instant. But if you are going to do something like that, then don’t forget," he looks at us, "how to mark your mate."

I pale. He knows. How did he figure it out? How long has he known?

He turns away from us, closes his eyes, and begins his meditations. I turn to Trunks, the color is gone from his face and he is just as shocked as I am.

Wordlessly, we leave.

"How. . ."

"I don’t know. I didn’t think dad had figured it out."

"What did he mean, by ‘mark your mate’?"

"I don’t know."

Something in the back of my mind begins to bother me. Something I should now, should remember. But it is out of my reach.

Later that night, as I lay in Trunks’ arms in the moonlight, I remember.

"Gohan."

"What, is he coming?"

"No, I just remembered. After Gohan got married he came home with a mark on

his neck."

"What kind of mark?"

"A bite mark."

"Why would Videl bite him? I mean it is kinda kinky and all, but was is necessary?"

"Your dad mentioned marking your mate, Gohan came home with a bite on his neck. Do you think that could be what your dad meant?"

Trunks looks at me, searching my eyes. He tilts his head, reveling his neck.

I gulp and lower my head to the base of his neck and lick the offered skin.

I bite. My teeth delve into his skin, bringing blood. I shudder. Something inside of me fills, like it was filling the whole of my soul.

Trunks bites my neck as I lick at blood from his wound. We are now life mates.

Friday comes, as it usually does.

I bring my family to Trunks’ house. We decided to tell them together. They sit in their living room, chatting.

I take a deep breath, preparing for what is going to happen.

"Mom, I’m in love." I announce.

"Oh, honey, that’s nice, but is this the place to be telling me?"

"Yes," Trunks interrupts, "because he’s in love with me." He takes my hand, reassuringly.

The room is silent. Then the eruption.

"WHAT?!?!?!"

"But, what, Goten, this can’t be, you can’t be, no! I won’t allow this!" Mom says, she looks faint.

"On Vegitasei it was customary for members of the same genders to mate. And as you can see, it is too late." Vegita pulls Trunks’s collar away from his neck, reveling his bite.

Mom faints. Gohan catches her before she reaches the ground.

Overall, Everything has gone as planned.

Trunks and I leave the commotion of the house. We fly up to the roof and sit, gazing at the stars.

"Goten, I was thinking. By Saiyan tradition, we are life mates. But in human tradition, we are not excepted. But even so, I would like you to be my husband." He pulls two wedding rings out of his pocket and holds them out to

me.

I smile softly. "Trunks, I love you. Of course I will marry you."

"Then, by yonder blessed moon I vow, That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops-"

"O, swear not by the moon, the’ inconstant moon

That monthly changes in her circled orb.

Lest that thy love prove likewise variable."

"What shall I swear by?"

"Do not swear at all

Or, it thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self,

Which is the god of my idolatry,

And I’ll believe thee."

"If my heart’s dear love-"

"I love you."

Fin

#Goten #Trunks #Yaoi #Lost Fanfiction

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translations-by-aiimee · 3 years

Text

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 28

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 28 - Immortal

In some remote mountainous areas in the south, Miao women used clay pots and menstrual blood to raise hundreds of insects. They sealed them, placed them in a damp place and cast curses on them. Once the day was done, the poisonous insects will have killed each other and the last one was embodied with Gu poison*. The curse made with Gu poison could make someone's love interest fall helplessly in love with them for the rest of his life, and it could also plague one's enemy with nightmares, madness, and even death. The women who concocted Gu poison were typically loners, often muttering to no one, avoided by the general public.

*(T/N: 蛊 - Gu poison was believed to be the combination of all the venoms from the insects that died and would be used for black magic in southern regions of China)

In Nanyang Black Magic, they would use the body of a baby that died recently, boiled out the toyol*, poured it on a puppet doused in human blood and placed it in the home. The imprisoned baby ghost would protect the house but the curse-caster will be punished. They would also carve birthdates into wood, causing the other to die.

*(T/N: 尸油 - literally 'corpse oil.' I'll spare you the graphic details but basically taking a dead body's chin and boiling it until oil drains out of it)

This black magic flourished in the Ming Dynasty. The Eastern Depot eunuchs* were in turmoil. Everyone was reporting each other, no one would speak to each other, eyes darting between each other daily. These curses were developed as a branch of Daoism to oppose political rivals. A-Yan said that the Daoist practices used to drive out ghosts and save people were declining, but this black magic has stuck around. It was one of the biggest spots in Daoist history.

*(T/N: 东厂 - a secret police & spy agency run by eunuchs meant to suppress political opposition towards the emperor)

Saturday morning was a beautiful day. The sun was shining but not to the point of being unbearably hot. The distant mountains stood silently under the blue sky. A black Audi passed quickly through the country’s tree-lined roads, raising a cloud of grit and dust. A white goose with its head held high on the roadside was startled by the car, flapping its wings and stretching its neck to hide behind a fence.

The car stopped at a small farmhouse in the northwest corner of the village.

In the courtyard, a tall Shuzi tree stretched out dense branches, looking extraordinarily vibrant. In contrast, the entire courtyard was strangely decrepit. A well was covered by a millstone and the stone-paced path was full of weeds. The doors of the three mud-brick houses were closed, with straw curtains covering the doors and windows covered with dust.

Everything was very different from a month ago. Lin Yan remembered that the last time he came here, there were hens and rabbits. The old lady in blue embroidered clothing was kneeling on the futon with her eyes closed. The small courtyard was filled with the mysterious atmosphere of the countryside. The current yard would give people the impression that the homeowner hadn't been home for years when, in fact, a fresh grave in the back of the mountain had only been built a month ago. Rural people were convinced that the houses inhabited by the living were blessed by the gods and sheltered from the elements for decades. Once the owner of the house dies, the gods will follow, so the empty house often collapsed and was destroyed in less than six months.

"When Second Immortal Gu was in the village, she would help children that fell sick with fever, and the adults that were dealing with evil spirits. Young men would ask her when they'd get married and, for the right price, she'd tell them." The village chief said with a cigarette in his mouth.

The village leader knew Yin Zhou’s mother well. He heard that Yin Zhou wanted to bring someone to pay tribute to Second Immortal Gu and waited at the entrance of the village to welcome them. It took ten minutes to drive from the village leader's house to Second Immortal Gu’s house. The village head smoked four cigarettes in a row. Yin Zhou squeezed his eyes shut while Lin Yan and the little Daoist priest twisted their heads out of the window every 30 seconds to gasp for a breath of fresh air. The village chief was the only one of them chatting in the smoky car. Lin Yan saw how the complaints of three people and a ghost just flew over his head.

If a ghost could complain.

Lin Yan found a roll of incense from the little Daoist's bag and lit it. He put the incense burner at the door of the mud-brick house and offered his respects.

"Last time, we left just before Second Immortal Gu had her accident. I should have come to offer some incense sooner, it's just things with school got busy and I haven't been able to make it until now." Lin Yan brushed the straw curtain and the accumulated dust fell on his face. "Cough, cough. Does - Does anyone take care of this place?"

"Of course not. You big city kids wouldn't know. Doing this line of work is only good for putting food on the table. Immortal Gu came out here in her twenties. In less than ten years, her husband and two sons had died and she was the only one left. She couldn't even save herself." The village leader stuffed his yellow striped shirt into his pants. "Don't feel bad. No immortal in this village could escape that fate."

"Come on, let's go, you guys are here to see her grave. We don't put up any gravestones here. We just build a stone platform, but the villagers will remember who it's for. I'll take you up there."

The sun was growing hotter. Several of them used broken branches to smack the grass in case of snakes while they hiked up the rugged mountain trail. A rural cemetery wasn't as neat as an urban cemetery. Each family claimed a spot, with every newly deceased buried next to the rest of their family. The grave was a prominent mound of dirt with a large stone on top. Some of the graves were too old to even make out the mound, the ground studded with small light blue flowers. A date palm tree grew wildly, and they needed to watch their step when walking so they wouldn't disturb the resting dead.

Second Immortal Gu's grave was off on its own. The mound was freshly dug. Other than a crooked wreath lying on it, it was indistinguishable from the older graves that had been abandoned for years.

The scene made Lin Yan feel incredibly guilty. He burned a large stack of paper dollars in front of the grave, playing with his branch while saying silently in his mind: Auntie, if you're still here, please come back and tell us who harmed you. We'll avenge your death.

The village chief took the cigarettes Lin Yan had bought him and squatted off in the distance to smoke. Lin Yan winked at the little Daoist priest and said softly, "Let's start?"

A-Yan nodded and took out a crumpled photo from his pocket that he had found in a frame in Immortal Gu's house. The immortal in the photo was still very young, wearing a floral cotton jacket and staring vacantly ahead.

"Now isn't a good time. The s-sun is too high. The mountains are filled with Yang energy, and the ghosts may not be able to be reached." A-Yan said. He jumped up and grabbed a twig from the date tree above his head. He hung a spirit summoning flag on it and patted the dust off his shoulders. "Here's a picture, here are the bones. Um, Lin Yan, I'm going to borrow your birthdate for this."

Before Lin Yan had time to ask, the little Daoist priest handed him a dagger. Unlike his usual mahogany sword, this one was actually made of metal. The handle seemed to be a few years old, and the tip of the blade gleaming a bright white in the sunlight.

"H-Hold this for a minute. You might feel a little uncomfortable, but don't let it go." A-Yan instructed: "I-I'll read one sentence and you read the next."

Yin Zhou chuckled but he felt that it probably wasn't the time to laugh so he quickly turned his laughter into a string of coughs.

Surprisingly, A-Yan never stuttered whenever he talked about Taoism and charms, Lin Yan muttered.

Time passed by and it was almost noon. The date trees in the mountains couldn't block the hot sun. After standing there for a long time, most of them were covered in a layer of sweat. The village leader couldn't bear the heat and left to join some nearby people to drink some tea. Lin Yan stood in front of the grave with the dagger in his hand. He rubbed the sweat on his cheeks off with his shoulder, hoping that this time it would be over quickly.

The little Daoist started reciting. His voice didn't sound like proper speech, but the slow rate of speech wasn't too difficult to follow. Lin Yan held the hilt of the dagger and along with the chant. Not even halfway through the incantation, Lin Yan already began to feel that something was wrong. The temperature around him began to drop, and the hot sweat condensed on his back. He kept shivering like he was suffering from heatstroke. A chill came from the handle of the dagger. First, the temperature seeped into his palm, and then his whole arm, up to his shoulders, through the bones in his spine to the back of his head in a numb wave. It was as if he wasn't holding a dagger but a frozen fish that had been left in the bottom tray of the freezer for a year.

The spirit summoning flag above his head began to move.

"It's cold." Lin Yan took a breath and scanned the silent mountains around him. "Have you reached the soul?"

"I t-think I found her." The little Daoist hesitated. "Huh. . . that's weird. . ."

After reciting two more incantations, the bone-chilling cold air had spread to his calves. Lin Yan's teeth chattered and he shivered out: "A-. . . A-Yan, are you sure this is okay. . . it's too. . . cold. . ."

The chanting continued, the little Daoist priest shot him a sideways glance, his eyes cold. Lin Yan can only brace himself to keep follow the mantra incantations, a heavy cold sweat forming on his forehead.

"Hold on for a little longer. The soul is bound to something, I want to break it free." A-Yan gritted his teeth, and a piece of talisman paper was slapped against the blade. All of a sudden, the cold washed over him like a tsunami. Lin Yan's whole body felt like it was being stabbed by needles, veins popping on his forehead from the pain.

"A-Yan, what are you doing?!" Yin Zhou knew something wasn't right when he saw Lin Yan's lips turn blue. "If you can't do it now, someone's going to get hurt. Lin Yan, use the ghost that's following you!"

"Almost there. Don't let go!" The little Daoist was flushed a sickly pale colour and he rapidly chanted the mantra. The spirit summoning flag above his head was being whipped by the wind. There was a ripping sound and the whole piece of cloth was torn in half and fluttered down onto the old grave in the distance.

"I-It's okay. . . A-Yan, go faster. . ." Lin Yan was so cold that he could barely get his tongue to work. He tried to move the hand with the dagger to it but he found that his skin was stuck to the metal and he couldn't budge it. He was shivering from his arms all the way down to his legs. Lin Yan staggered back and stepped on the bag they'd brought, almost falling backwards.

A force of strength supported his back. Xiao Yu's voice sounded right when he needed him, but his low voice didn't let him retort: "Let go."

Xiao Yu's hand covered the back of Lin Yan's hand. Compared to the temperature of the dagger, his palm was actually warm. It was just right to block the cold air that kept pouring into Lin Yan's arm. A-Yan's expression changed in an instant and he shouted loudly: "Back off, beast!"

"I'll fucking finish this. . ." Lin Yan abruptly closed his eyes and pressed his palm to the blade. All at once, the bone-chilling cold air felt like ten thousand needles running through his palm up to his arm. At the same time, there was a cold that grew behind him. He quickly opened his eyes but Second Immortal Gu hadn't appeared. On the contrary, Xiao Yu snapped Lin Yan's wrist with completely overwhelming strength, forcing the sharp weapon out of his hand.

The moment the dagger was taken out of Lin Yan's hand, he felt like he was immediately torn out of an ice block and thrown into a fire. The ritual was broken, the hot sunlight licked his back, making his whole body numbly feel like it was going to dissolve. However, he couldn't care less about his body's reaction. What happened next made Lin Yan and Yin Zhou - who was freaking out off to the side - shocked. They saw Xiao Yu holding the dagger inching towards A-Yan, frigid eyes filled with killing intent. When the palm of his hand touched the hilt of the knife, it sounded like searing flesh. But he didn't care. He grabbed A-Yan's collar with one hand, and violently plunged the dagger toward his left eye with the other!

Lin Yan's mind kicked into action. He subconsciously rushed over to hold Xiao Yu's waist, using all his strength to drag him back. However, something was wrong with the little Daoist priest, too. His usual cowardice was gone and his eyes burned with rage. He rolled away and broke free, rapidly taking out a handful of cinnabar and tossing it towards Xiao Yu. His voice changed because of the trembling: "An evil beast is an evil beast. You can't stay!"

"What the fuck is going on!" Yin Zhou couldn't see Xiao Yu. He could only see the little Daoist tumbling on the ground alone trying to avoid a shimmering dagger. Lin Yan's nerves were fried. While dragging Xiao Yu back, he roared towards Yin Zhou: "How the hell should I know? You grab A-Yan!"

He had never seen Xiao Yu so angry. The midday sun was burning and blinding. The ghost's whole body was emitting a faint greenish-black aura. The knuckles of both hands snapped open, sharp claw-like nails grabbing the back of the Daoist priest's head. Lin Yan thought he was seeing things and closed his eyes, but the scene stayed the same. The place where the ghost stood glowed a greenish-black and the place where the human stood was a dancing orange fire, intertwining with each other, but the orangish-yellow flames were gradually dying out. . .

Later, he would learn that people have yang energy and ghosts have yin energy. When the energy was extremely concentrated, he could directly perceive the yin and yang without his eyes confusing it in his mind. This was the foundation of excellent Taoism. He had inadvertently opened a long-closed door to the mystical arts.

However, the current situation was extremely dangerous. Xiao Yu held A-Yan’s neck with one hand and the dagger cut inch by inch into the little Daoist priest's arm blocking it. The hand holding the knife was searing black from the contact with the blade of the evil spirit's. A Yan's face grew purple, his eyes bulging. Lin Yan didn't dare to hesitate for a moment and scrambled over to protect A-Yan from behind. There was a clanging sound and the dagger rolled to the ground.

The little Daoist broke free from the evil spirit's hands, clutching his bleeding wound and groaning intermittently: "Lin Yan. . . Immortal Gu. . . Immortal Gu's spirit is trapped. . . I couldn't get her. . ."

Lin Yan supported the little Daoist's shoulders. His eyes gleamed, and the soft deer-like eyes were different from those when he had when he cast the spell. "The curse. . . Be careful." A-Yan whispered. Lin Yan hadn't gotten the chance to ask what was going on before his thin body couldn't support his own weight. His eyes rolled back and he fainted.

Lin Yan and Yin Zhou looked at each other, shocked by the outcome, unable to utter a word.

#dig a grave to dig out a ghost #dig a grave to dig out a ghost translation #english translation #chinese bl #chinese novel #danmei novel #danmei #yaoi novel #yaoi #bl novel

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