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demoniqt · 1 year

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I posted 347 times in 2022

43 posts created (12%)

304 posts reblogged (88%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@demoniqt

@naniya27

@sarah-yyy

@stiltonbasket

@megalodont

I tagged 164 of my posts in 2022

#demoniqt fics - 52 posts

#shen jiu - 39 posts

#svsss - 33 posts

#mdzs - 27 posts

#wangxian - 26 posts

#svsss fanfic - 25 posts

#svsss fanfiction - 23 posts

#qijiu - 22 posts

#mo dao zu shi - 22 posts

#wei wuxian - 21 posts

Longest Tag: 66 characters

#this is so scary though.... bro what if this happened to you......

My Top Posts in 2022:

Qijiu Week 2022

Day 3 - Hot Springs or Hidden Infatuation

Yue Qingyuan knew on an instinctive level that Shen Qingqiu would be considered a classic beauty, with his pale countenance, high cheekbones and phoenix eyes. It was something he marvelled at whenever he had the rare chance to enjoy a cup of tea with his acerbic childhood love.

Of course, Yue Qingyuan himself was no slouch. He was tall and built in a way that complimented Shen Qingqiu's slim figure. The Cang Qiong Sect Leader was used to fighting without his sword, so he had practice using his physical strength to his advantage.

In fact, the only other sect member that could fight on par with him in terms of physical cultivation would be none other than Liu-shidi.

Liu Qingge was also a widely-known beauty, even despite his brusque manner and blunt honesty.

"Why did you have to here!? Couldn't you have settled on the other side!?" Shen Qingqiu snarled, wiping the spray of hot spring water from his face.

Liu Qingge rolled his eyes, "It just water. Not acid. It won't ruin your pretty face."

"That's rich coming from you, pretty boy," returned the Qing Jing Peak Lord with a sneer.

Admirably, he restrained from returning the favour by splashing the Bai Zhan Peak Lord like the other man accidentally did when he slid into the pool. It was only because it was by accident that Shen Qingqiu didn't retaliate like he clearly wanted to.

Liu Qingge's face turned pink, perhaps from the heat of the spring they were all sitting in.

Yue Qingyuan sighed as Mu Qingfang slid into the pool beside him.

"This is a good idea to promote teamwork and camaraderie, zhangmen-shixiong," the Healer said with a sigh of appreciation.

"Yes," Wei Qingwei agreed, pouring a cup of wine for himself. Then he continued, "I only wish that we left those two behind."

As he spoke, Shen Qingqiu's patience finally broke and he swung a hand into the hot water, splashing an annoyed Liu Qingge in the face.

"You!"

Yue Qingyuan sighed again before getting up to stop the physical fight between the two most beautiful people in his life.

All he wanted was to enjoy the view. Was that too much to ask?

Oh, he also wanted his shidi all to get along but apparently, that was all just wishful thinking.

End Hot Spring and Hidden Infatuation

Notes:

YQY is a secret pervert. Hahaha.

19 notes - Posted September 10, 2022

Qijiu Week 2022

Day 2 - Fulfilling a Promise or Dragon AU

The water drips...

drips...

Shen Qingqiu had long since stopped counting the seconds that passed and had moved on to just waiting for his time to end.

The former lofty lord of Qing Jing Peak took a shaky breath through perforated lungs ruined by prolonged exposure to air saturated with acid and wished he could throw himself into the acid pond and end this miserable existence of his.

His remaining eye never left the dull broken shards scattered on the dirt even as his laboured breathing begin to petered out slower.

Qi-Ge...

Qi-Ge, this Xiao Jiu will join you soon.

The single emerald eye closed as the thought came to him and for the first time in his life, he was assured by the bleak future ahead.

This time, Xiao Jiu will forgive Qi-Ge.

Even if Qi-Ge didn't rescue Xiao Jiu...

At least you tried...

A gleam of light propelled him to open his eye again and standing before him is a familiar and beloved figure that reached out to him with one hand.

"Xiao Jiu," the apparation breathed, crystalline tears falling from his pale cheeks.

Shen Qingqiu gasped around a bloody mouth empty of a tongue.

You came back.

Qi-Ge came back.

And that was all that mattered.

End Fulfilling a Promise

22 notes - Posted September 10, 2022

The Hidden Flower (隐花) - Chapter 1 - demoniqt - 人渣反派自救系统 - 墨香铜臭 | The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù [Archive of Our Own]

Summary:

Shen Jiu returns to his time as a slave in the Qiu Estate after his second life as a pampered young master of a rich family in the modern world ends. He opts to NOPE out of the situation and gets the hell out of dodge. Then, he found a place of sanctuary and offers it to girls who are in need of one.

Suddenly, he's the Grandmaster of a hidden sect!

Then, Luo Binghe returns as well and decides to obsessively court him. For what? Revenge?

And Qi-ge... when did he become interested in getting hitched?

Liu Qingge! Stop leaving dead animals and beasts at the gate of his hidden sect! It's supposed to be hidden!

And what of the other Peak Lords? What is wrong with everyone!?

32 notes - Posted July 20, 2022

Jumping into the Mamajiu bandwagon late!

The Bamboo Child

His loneliness was overwhelming on nights he couldn't sleep.

His bamboo house was quiet and even the crickets outside had cease to sing, leaving nothing but white noise humming persistently in his ears. It drove him insane, left with nothing but his ever spiralling thoughts.

Normally, he valued his silence and solitude.

When he was a disciple, the sounds of breathing from other male disciples disconcerted him so he could only sleep in the wood shed. It also gave him the privacy and safety that he needed to ease his mind.

But after he became the Peak Lord, he was given his personal sanctuary in the form of his teacher's bamboo house.

But on some nights, the silence was so overwhelming, he'd be reminded of being locked in the wood shed of the Qiu Manor. It was stiffling and it would make him antsy, as if he was anticipating something terrible to happen.

He could go to the Red Pavilion to seek the companionship of his Jiejies but he'd just been recently reprimanded by Liu Qingge and Yue Qingyuan for it and he didn't feel like getting into another argument with those two idiots over this issue at a Peak Lord meeting when they had better things to do.

So on one lonely night, he left his bamboo house to take a walk amidst the bamboo forest at the back of Qing Jing Peak.

He'd walked this path a thousand times before, even as just a mere disciple. The familiar rustling of the leaves in the wind, the smell of the crisp air mixed with the scent of the bamboo helped settle his troubled mind and ease his anxiety.

Then a sound caught his attention and his ears perked.

There was a baby crying in his bamboo forest.

Shen Qingqiu followed the sound, trying to trace the source.

Did someone, a female disciple of his!?, give birth in the forest and abandoned their child?

He followed the sounds of the baby's wailing until he came to a huge bamboo stalk. Which was odd, because he was familiar with this forest and had never seen such a thick bamboo stalk the colour of jade before.

And the odder thing about it, was the glowing segment at nearly the base of the bamboo stalk.

It was where the sounds of the crying came from.

Without thinking, Shen Qingqiu swiped his fan against the bamboo segment, splitting it open. The huge stalk toppled backwards onto the ground, revealing its treasure within.

In the hollows of the bamboo segment, lay a small baby, crying and hiccuping pitifully. He was so tiny he could fit into Shen Qingqiu's palms.

The baby was curled up and shivering in the cold, so Shen Qingqiu shed his outer robe and folded it to swaddle the poor child, wrapping it warmly in the folds of the silk.

He carried the child home, singing to his bamboo child bestowed upon him by the full moon on his most loneliest night.

End Bamboo Child

Shud I continue this? How should I continue this? Reverse Harem? 🤔

63 notes - Posted December 20, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Qijiu Week 2022

Day 5 - Family or Farming AU

Summary:

Usually, it's Shen Jiu who returns to have a second chance in life. This time, a jaded Yue Qi returns to do over in this time travel remix.

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

Yue Qi wiped a hand over his forehead, looking up at the rising sun with his other hand resting on the hoe he was using to till the dirt. Soon, the sun will be up high on the sky, making it too hot to continue his farming.

To his annoyance, he spied a figure flying in the distance. First a dot in the blue sky and then coming close enough for Yue Qi to identify as Liu Qingge.

Before, he would never describe his ex-shidi as annoying, but recently, the younger man's existence was grating on him like a thorn to his side.

That man can be so persistent.

Yue Qi waited until Liu Qingge landed before speaking.

"Peak Lord Liu," he greeted, face unsmiling, quite unlike the Cang Qiong Sect Leader he'd once been in another life.

"Any change?" Liu Qingge asked, straight to the point as always.

"No," Yue Qi answered. "He still doesn't remember his life... from before."

Liu Qingge's fists tightened as he audibly grinded his teeth. Before he could storm toward the direction of Yue Qi's home, the farmer stepped forward to block off his access.

"Peak Lord Liu," Yue Qi said with a warning tone.

"Let me see him," Liu Qingge said through gritted teeth.

"No," Yue Qi replied, still unsmiling. "Leave him be."

"Let me talk to him. I'll remind him," Liu Qingge said, attempting to advance forward but his respect for his former sect leader prevented him from shoving the other man away.

"Remind him of what? How we abandoned him? How we ostracized him and abandoned him at the time he needed us the most?" Yue Qi uncharacteristically spat, anger thick in his voice. The memories of the past never ceased to provoke the normally placid farmer into a rage when he remembered how foolish he had been.

His hesitance and foolhardiness had cost him more than just his life, it had cost him Xiao Jiu. Lead to Xiao Jiu losing his cultivation, his reputation, his limbs, suffering for years before finally losing his life.

Yue Qi vowed never to make the same mistakes again. Even if that meant keeping Xiao Jiu away from Cang Qiong.

"Yue-zhangmen, we need the both of you in Cang Qiong. The war.." Liu Qingge started but was cut off by Yue Qi.

"No," he repeated. "You don't need us."

Then, before Liu Qingge could continue with his appeal, he continued sternly, "Or at the very least, we don't need any of you."

Liu Qingge swelled in anger and Yue Qi felt a sudden wave of self pride for being able to do what only Shen Qingqiu frequently managed to do in another life.

"The demons have taken Huanhua Palace," Liu Qingge gritted out, as if it was anything but good news. Yue Qi felt nothing but vindication at the thought of the Old Palace Master falling at the hand of Tianlang-jun. It would be karmic retribution for what he did to the demon Lord in their previous life.

"Cang Qiong is still fighting but we've lost our tactician-," Liu Qingge was once again interrupted.

"Xiao Jiu and I are unconcerned. We are not of Cang Qiong and not involved in the politics between sects, nor are we involved in the struggles between the demon world and this world," Yue Qi answered, picking up his hoe.

"It will concern you once the demons overwhelm us," Liu Qingge protested.

"The South demons are not interested in the subjugation of humankind," Yue Qi said with a certainty that made Liu Qingge immediately suspicious. "Tianlang-jun is only aiming to bring down Huanhua Palace but Cang Qiong and the other sects got involved needlessly."

See the full post

84 notes - Posted September 23, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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star-favoured-walker · 1 year

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Playlist meme

Rules: You can usually tell a lot about a person by the type of music they listen to. Put your playlist on shuffle and list the first 10 songs, and then tag 10 people.

I was tagged by @gaysessuale (Thank you slu77erino del mio cuore, beloved)

Since I don't have Spotify or any streaming service for music, I'm just going to play my "most listened to" playlist on the phone.

One Last Time - LP

Runnin - Adam Lambert

Naked - James Arthur

Miele - Giusy Ferreri

Kiss The Sky - Jason Derulo

No More - Three Days Grace

Runnin' (Lose It All) - Naughty Boy ft. Beyoncé, Arrow Benjamin

Mr. Sandman - SYML

Antartide - Pinguini Tattici Nucleari

Curse - Imagine Dragons

I'm tagging @kittycatdeathtrap, @sinha-ri, @jeidafei, @naniya27, @a1y-puff, @allenwalker14th, @astxlphe, @gradelstuff, @lucasdelacruz, @ultra-firelily

I'd love to know more about your music taste! I've been moot with most for years but I haven't interacted much with some of you, so hopefully you don't mind!

#tag bait #but in an affectionate way

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titoocombe · 1 year

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J'ai publié 137 fois en 2022

C'est 45 billets de plus qu'en 2021 !

60 billets créés (44%)

77 billets reblogués (56%)

Les blogs que j'ai le plus reblogués :

@shorter-passoire

@naniya27

@fuckyeahchinesegarden

@archatlas

@dangermousie

J'ai étiqueté 112 billets en 2022

Seulement 18% de mes billets ne comportaient pas de tag

#architecture - 28 billets

#art - 20 billets

#rome - 15 billets

#rome 2022 - 14 billets

#france - 14 billets

#landscape - 14 billets

#scotland - 14 billets

#my architecture collection - 12 billets

#china - 10 billets

#photography - 9 billets

Tag le plus long : 35 caractères

#bau brearley architects + urbanists

Mes billets vedette en 2022 :

n°5

Archives 2018-2021 Chateau Lacoste, installation, Andy Goldsworthy

8 notes - publié le 23 janvier 2022

n°4

10 notes - publié le 7 juin 2022

n°3

Archives 2018-2021 Chateau Lacoste, Architecture, Tadao Ando

12 notes - publié le 19 janvier 2022

n°2

Voir l'intégralité du billet

12 notes - publié le 22 janvier 2022

Mon billet n°1 en 2022

Voir l'intégralité du billet

40 notes - publié le 25 janvier 2022

Obtenez votre année 2022 en revue sur Tumblr →

#tumblr2022 #année en revue #mon année tumblr 2022 en revue #votre année tumblr en revue #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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no6secretsanta · 5 years

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My gift for @snowlymint! The prompt was “Nezumi and Shion being happy together” I hope they like this xD - @naniya27

#no6 #no 6 #no.6 #no. 6 #nezushi #no6secretsanta #snowlymint #naniya27 #submission

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eijie-cavies · 3 years

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Wen Kexing, Scorpion King and Gu-Xiang raised together in ghost valley.

This lovely user had produced a VERY interesting Au that I couldn't help myself but make a lil drabble/one shot on it. @naniya27 I hope you like it! I had fun playing around with Xi'er hahahah. (one shot under the cut)

Zhou Zishu didn't know if he should gape in surprise or tilt his head in confusion at the sight of Wen Kexing and a VERY familiar man clad in black conversing by their table. He had only stood up to order himself some more wine and all of the sudden there was an assassin sitting beside Wen Kexing, more so, this assassin wasn't even trying to kill him.

"Where have you been? I've been looking all over for you-" The man whined.

"I told you I will be "around" little brat, didn't A-Xiang inform you of my whereabouts?" Wen Kexing retorted, his carefree smile widened as he tilted his head back to drink his beverage as if this assassin was not in the least bit dangerous. "Da-ge, you know I would be busy, did you purposely send me away to have your little adventures?" The man pouted, POUTED, as though he was a little brother feigning hurt just to gain favor from his older brother.

'Have I missed something here?' Zhou Zishu internally blanched, approaching their table slowly.

When the man's eyes landed on to him all the traces of playfulness disappeared and a hard mask was set in place. The man straightened in his seat like a proper gentleman with his eyes cold and observant. Zhou Zishu internally shivered, The man looked every bit like he was once did back when he was still serving the prince.

"Ah! A-Xu, come come, you took too long" Wen Kexing whined pettily which gained a slightly shocked but nonetheless passive expression from his companion. "I was gone for 5 minutes Lao Wen-"

"Five minutes too long, a-xu don't deprived me of your beauty" His soulmate winked.

The scandalized look on the scorpion's face ALMOST made Zhou Zishu want to play along with his fan man's antics, but his mind was still too muddled to comprehend just WHY this man was even here.

"Lao Wen, i don't think you need me here if you got a companion?" Zhou Zishu challenged, the man's eyebrows twitched. Either from annoyance or anger he didn't know. "Ah, my bad, A-Xu this is Xie Wang, Xi-er say hello to my beautiful A-Xu" Again, Wen Kexing had that silly sparkling look in his eyes that quiet frankly Zishu decided he would never tire from. "Wen Gongzi, I was not aware you harbored stowaways in your journey" Zishu wanted to snort at that. as if he had not seen the way this "Xi-er" acted while he was not there.

"I know who he is Lao Wen, did not know the Ghost valley is familiar with the Scorpion" Zhou Zishu tilted his head, sitting down across from Wen Kexing. Xi-er looked ready to retort a smartass reply, probably something Wen Kexing had taught himself when the older man beat him to it.

"Ayiah, the ghost valley and Scorpions had always been allies A-Xu, is it not a common knowledge?" he asked.

Zishu only shrugged his shoulder. being an ex-assassin he could always read people based on their body language, and though the man in front of him was of similar occupation, Zishu could not help but chuckle at the way Xi-er's knee slowly moved to touch Wen Kexing's in a protective manner ,or how his jaw flexed slightly indicating that he was grinding his teeth behind his mouth, the piercing eyes never left him for a moment as if anticipating Zishu's attack at anytime. truth be told he looked about ready to drive Zishu away himself.

"Ah that reminds me, I seemed to have forgotten to buy some herbs too take back to the manor, eh A-xu i'll be back in a bit" He smiled warmly before standing up to leave. Zishu knows it's bullshit, Lao Wen would never run off to "buy" something not unless he asked for money first, so Zishu figured that this was his chance to get to know this person, whatever Lao Wen had in mind anyway.

"So...Leader Zhou, we meet again" Xi-'er smiled politely, though the ex assassin knew that that was FAR from a friendly one, more like a challenge. "Yes, after you abducted Chengling" he fired back, smile as taxing. Xie'er ,in a moment of weakness, groaned "Please, don't remind me, i already got an earful from Da'ge about that, I don't want to hear the same from you"

Zishu raised his eyebrow in surprise and confusion, okay so he was not hallucinating then. this scorpion DID call Lao Wen "Da ge"

"Pardon?" said Zishu.

"How was I supposed to know that Zhang boy was your ward and you were with Da ge anyway? he hadn't contacted me ever since he got out of the valley" he pouted...again. "Besides, I already said sorry to him" he reasoned again. Zishu smirked at that "So you said sorry to him and not me or Chengling?"

"Hell no, I don't even know you. and why are you even sticking to Da'ge anyway? this wasn't even in his plan" Xie'er rolled his eyes so far back he was sure it would pop out. The ex- assassin only laughed at that. No, Lao Wen did NOT anticipate their meeting nor did Zishu himself, but he'd be damned if he was the one sticking to Wen Kexing. that fan wielding man was the one who clung to him in the first place.

Just before he could retort Chengling arrived just in time to See Xi-er slightly leaned forward at the table as if he was about to attack Zishu. "Chengling" the swordsman started, but Chengling was fast to run to his side and position himself just behind Zhou Zishu. Xie'er was not pleased. "Little idiot, I thought you went off to buy more supplies for-"

"I was! but Shishu told me to come back here and that he would handle it himself"

'Lao Wen I swear to-'

"Shishu? hah, who are you calling shishu? my Da'ge would never let anyone call him that" Zi'er

"Your Da'ge, definetly did" Zishu almost could not contain his laugh at the scorpion King's scandalized and shocked expression. "This is ridiculous" the scorpion King stood up with al the gracehe could muster in anger "I'm going to find him and set this right" he harrumped, swishing his robes as he disappeared out the tavern.

Chengling, who was still slightly cowering behind him stuttered. "Sh-Shifu, wasn't tha-"

"Yes, don't worry i'll talk to your Shishu about this, come on. Let's go and finish getting those herbs before we go home"

____________________________________________________

"Lao Wen"

"Hmmn?" Wen Kexing hummed, stirring a pot of hot steamed vegetables with chicken soup simmering by the side. "Xie'er was...something" at the mention of his brother Kexing stopped for a second before continuing his minstrations. as if reading Zishu's mind on wanting a clearer explanation, Wen Kexing caved "I found him when I was still in ghost valley. he was one of the children who had been abducted and brought to us" the taller man swallowed hard, clearly struggling, though his face showed little emotion.

"He almost died, luckily I got to him in time and managed to save him, hiding him away was the hardest part. it took a while before he trusted me but once he did I found that I could not turn him away"

Zhou Zishu sighed, with a burst of bravery he walked over to his Zhiji and wrapped his hands around his waist, his head came to rest on Lao Wen's shoulder. "He lived with me for several years,and then Gu-xiang appeared. We barely managed to save her but when Xie'er promised ties with the Scorpion to the former Ghost valley chief he let her go, when I became chief I finally let him go back to his home where he can see his parents again" Wen Kexing stopped, longer this time. His hand shook as he removed the pots from the fire to prevent them from burning, he turned to Zhou Zishu, eyes full of guilt and sorrow.

"But...it was too late, his parents had been killed and with no one to take the title Xi'er had to assume the role and had to band together the scorpions that we know today. He was only 17 that time A-Xu, it took years before he could properly get a hold of the others and most of the time I wasn't even there to help him. I still had Gu-Xiang to raise and it wasn't time for me to emerge from the valley. He had to come to me multiple times-"

Wen Kexing faltered. Zishu figure that was enough, he didn't think Lao Wen would actually tell him that much. The shorter man steadily turned his soulmate to face him, his eyes soft and understanding as he slowly leaned in, just enough to let Lao Wen back out if he so wanted. but the other man stayed in place. He finally rest his forehead against Lao Wen's. in an instant, his partner loosened up, hand began to encircle around his waist as Zishu moved closer, feeling their noses touch.

"Lao Wen, you did great"

At that high praise and implication, Wen Kexing could not help but to shed tears of relief and gratefulness. Zishu understood, Zishu accepted. and most of all Zhou Zishu stayed.

Bonus: Timeline.

Wen Kexing was around 7 or 8 when he was brought in to Ghost valley. so let's say he was 7.

Xie'er came to ghost valley when he was 8 years old making Wen Kexing 15.

Gu-xiang came to valley when she was 7 making Wen Kexing 18 and Xi'er 11.

Wen Kexing was 20 when he took over, Xie'er now 17 years old and given free reign over the scorpions and Gu xiang 9.

Finally current drama:

Wen Kexing - 28

Xie Wang- 21

Gu-Xiang - 17

(These aren't the real ages btw XD just estmation. i had big brain moment trying to sort out the timeline hahaha)

#word of honor #shan he ling #wen kexing #zhou zishu #zhang chengling #xie wang #xie er #gu xiang #wenzhou #Wen kexing is a good dad TvT

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sugarbabywenkexing · 3 years

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10 and 14 with zhou zishu, wen kexing, gu xiang, luo fumeng and ye baiyi?

10. To cut and style my hair

WKX, because we've seen him do ZZS's hair and it turned out well, and I just know he did baby GX's hair in Ghost Valley.

I'm tossing up between ZZS and GX for second place, because I'd trust ZZS more to cut my hair but I think GX would do better with the styling. Let's say ZZS second and GX third because I think a slightly boring but well cut hairstyle is probably better than something uneven.

LFM goes fourth, because her hair is extremely elaborate, but I also feel like her brushing WKX's hair is the most she's ever done on that front. LQQ probably does her hair for her.

And lastly YBY, because I don't think he'd really put any actual effort into it? It's not his hair, why should he care what it looks like. But also I'm thinking about @naniya27's deaged AU and picturing little Yan-er, with a very lopsided little hairstyle, beaming because grandpa did his hair for him and that's very cute so I'm conflicted.

14. Leave in charge of my home while I'm away

WKX can actually do housework, so I feel like there's the best chance of him doing a decent job.

I think GX would probably do a pretty good job if it was a short trip? I wouldn't trust her not to get distracted by something more excited for longer than like a weekend, but I don't think she'd do anything actively destructive.

YBY would eat everything in my cupboards, but I feel like he's probably fairly organised.

ZZS would drink everything in my cupboards, and I think the place would be a tip when I got back.

LFM has never even considered doing housework in her life and would probably have a murder party while I'm gone.

#asks #fractured-ice

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kuroi-no-sora · 3 years

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Tagged by @naniya27

rules: picture of lockscreen, last song listened to, and most recent photo in camera roll

My wallpaper had been laopo ZZS for a while now 😗😗😗

I’ve been listening jpop since last week and kpop since 2 weeks nonstop lol.

That pic just yday been training nonstop lol... Hectic week 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Tagging @minniedlucca, @darkestsiren @shards-of-divinity no pressure mutuals~😘😘😘😘

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randomingoftherandomness · 1 year

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tropes

I was tagged by @astridcontramundum (hullo luvvie!)

Thank you so much for tagging me! ^.^

Slow burn or love at first sight // fake dating or secret dating // enemies to lovers or best friends to lovers // oh no there’s only one bed or long-distance correspondence // hurt-comfort or amnesia // fantasy au or modern au // mutual pining or domestic bliss // canon-compliant or fix-it // reincarnation or character death // one-shot or multi-chapter // kid fic or road trip fic // arranged marriage or accidental marriage // high school romance or middle aged romance // time travel or isolated together // neighbours (my good friend and neighbor! :D) or roommates // sci-fi au or magic au // body swap or gender bend // angst or crack // apocalyptic or mundane

I’ll tag @sarah-yyy @veraverorum @janiedean @weilongfu @dangermousie @xinxiaojie @ashinlae @zhongwans @prose-n-scripts @muggedbeans @minmoyu @naanima @alipeeps @naniya27

#tag game #been a hot minute since I did one #please feel free to join in if you want to!

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tykartreblogs · 2 years

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Tag Wrangling Round Up - 1,650-or-so Posts

So when I put up a post that I wasn't planning to post my wrangling round ups, a couple people mentioned they like them, so here ya go.

Current Total Different Tags Used: 494

Current Follower Count: 167

Posts by Fandom:

shan he ling (1,075 works)

tian ya ke (354 works)

qiye (193 works)

Ten Character Reblogged Most Often:

wen kexing (1,060 works)

zhou zishu (987 works)

jing beiyuan (169 works)

ye baiyi (151 works)

wu xi (141 works)

gu xiang (134 works)

xie wang (128 works)

zhang chengling (118 works)

cao weining (41 works)

helian yi (33 works)

Five Ships Reblogged Most Often:

wenzhou (797 works)

xiyuan (113 works)

yexie (36 works)

caoxiang (34 works)

rongye (22 works)

Ten Most Prolific Artists: Currently, 407 different artists have at least one work reblogged here.

naniya27 (125 works)

nightjardraws (54 works)

rhymesswith (39 works)

hedonistbyheart (45 works)

verycharistmaticdragon (36 works)

fanyeline (33 works)

koglasain (31 works)

hippo-dog (31 works)

xieliancore (30 works)

snarkspawn (28 works)

ryoplica (28 works)

I'm aiming to do monthly tag reviews/updates to catch typos and stuff, so I guess I'll post one of these monthly? idk, time will tell I suppose. :D

#mod post #tag wrangling

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demoniqt · 3 years

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A life not lived, a grief not mourned - demoniqt - 山河令 | Word of Honor (TV 2021) [Archive of Our Own]

A loud clattering made Zhou Zishu look up from his scroll.

"Lao Wen?" Zhou Zishu got up quickly to run to the source of the noise and was surprised by what he found.

On the ground, drowning in his husband's blue and white robes was a toddler with long silvery white hair.

****

Inspired by Nanoy's fantastic fanart that I fell in love with at first sight.

#word of honor #wen kexing #word of honor fic #zhou zishu #zhang chengling #Naniya27's art #demoniqt fic

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naniya27 · 3 years

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I wanna change my userid to nanoy to match my twt and ao3, but I’ve hold naniya27 since my dA days during middle school 🤔🤔🤔🤔

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no6zine · 5 years

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No. 6 Zine 2019 Contributors

Please welcome our 2019 No. 6 Zine contributors, especially our 3 guests!

@miyukiko is an artist whose absolutely gorgeous No. 6 art book or Nezushi reunion charm you might recognise. Miyukiko is also a cosplayer, and participates in other fandoms such as D. Gray Man and Granblue.

@ahikuboruchi is an artist known for clever drawings resembling the No. 6 manga. Ahiku is also a member of the RestructuralCommittee, and was featured in the 2018 No. 6 Zine as an illustrator and a merch artist (buttons, mug, postcards). You might also be familiar with Ahiku’s fics The Forest of Tranquility, Childhood Friends, or Revolution, which you can find here on AO3.

@listenforthelove is a writer who loves Safu and cross-overs. You might know listenforthelove’s fics Of Cold And Muffins, Six Times Fate, or One Day In May. Check out listenforthelove’s AO3 here if you aren’t already familiar with it!

Our artists: returning @xwhenyouwakeupx @milkhorror @arianwen44 @durrrrito

tumblr participants @ikathemadhatter @meouko @1okro @cheroid @naniya27 @carrscrap @k04aru @chebbyart @appendorange @luuakuu @yeagaswagga @lohaku @tobizuke @ladvy @flat-san @saizensenazarashi @zappychild @moyashion

twitter participants 364Unbirthdays_, ravenfell, smoffi_, OpaleDeFeuAC, lumilotte, shinjuroukai, art_by_lml

and leviorenart

Our writers: returning @a-still-small-vox @glittercracker @secretagentfan @pigeonsimba @weiselzelle @nezvmii

tumblr participants @hi-im-secretly-satan @glorifiedscapegoat @curiousscarletteyes

Our cosplayers: @nezumean @biblup @zayeden, and u_r_such_a_mess & _Misss_Elle_

Our crafters: @ash-the-ketchup & @rodentfaerie

And we also have two graphic/layout designers, @derpypandapal and mini_monkee !

Our contributors are aleady hard at work on their pieces for the No. 6 Zine: Myths and Legends of No. 6. We can’t wait to show you our creations!

#no6zine #no6 #no 6 #no.6 #no. 6 #ahikuboruchi #ahiku #miyukiko #listenforthelove #myths and legends of no. 6

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no6secretsanta · 5 years

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More Than A Thousand Words

For @naniya27 from @into-september.

AN: «Yves» is pronounced similarly to “Eve”, and is the name given the West Block Ophelia in the German translation of the manga.

It was a spring day with the lightest of rain, the sun occasionally peaking through the clouds and drying out the pavement between the showers as he walked home, and the low rays through the windows at the top of the stairwell were particular lovely, he thought, before the walls were sterile grey and he was going up the stairs as the scientists were running down and the sirens were blaring, and everything collapsed into a million moments of blood and gunpowder and adrenaline and a ghost that looked like a girl and in every one of them is he, he, he and what it feels like to have tongs and pliers digging into the flesh of his shoulder and the tremors so fierce boxes and bottles crashing to the floor they'll hit him why isn't he ducking and his wide eyes the blood blooming wet from the bullet burn on his shirt and his still warm hand as they're weightless in the darkness of this narrow stinking there must be a bottom when will you hit the -

and a lifetime has passed and the shadows had barely moved and his next-door neighbor was leaning over him looking worried.

"Hey, are you with me?"

When he opened his mouth to answer a sob came out instead, and he pressed his hand against his mouth.

"Dude, what happened? Are you okay?"

He wanted to say that it was fine, but the hand clinging to the railing was shaking and his arm and his leg were burning from the phantom bullets lodged in them. It took him three attempts until his legs would carry him, and getting up the remaining steps and into his flat was hindered by his limping with imagined wounds.

He sat on in his armchair and stared out of the window, his mind crowding with two lifetimes worth of memories, and one of them was from a world and a place unknown. People he’d never met but still knew exactly which insults would cut them, places he’d never been to but he still knew every shortcut and the best nooks to hide in. He felt at his back and found it as smooth as ever, even as he intimately recalled the endless pain of a burn wound’s slow healing. Voices shouting and pleading and whispering words he didn’t understand even as he knew exactly what they were saying.

He felt as if he even was forgetting his name, even if he didn’t understand either one of the names he had in the vision. The sun was setting outside when he finally felt as if he had some kind of grip on reality again.

One: He was undeniably in NO. 3, where he was undeniably living and had undeniably been living his entire life, seeing that he had undeniably brought home groceries as he came home from work today and the guy next door undeniably knew him and there was undeniably a mark on the wall that his brother had made the last time he was over.

Two: He had undeniably been overwhelmed by memories of a life that wasn’t his, and he couldn’t even start to guess to whom they belonged. He’d say that they were halucinations, but after the first blinding wave, they’d merely taken up space along with his own, like remembering a film that he’d been part of.

Three: Whatever sadistic filmmaker had created it, no-one involved had deserved it. It was a story of innocence lost and replaced by the deepest bitterness, of human suffering of proportions that could kill anyone’s faith in others, of violence on a scale not recorded in -

Of violence on a scale that was had probably not been committed ever since NO. 6, the first one. Of course, the language he didn’t understand. The wall overshadowing the squallid town, the massacres in the slums, the burning of the forest.

He searched for images of the old NO. 6 in the global databases, and remembered in disturbing detail. The park in the city centre, he’d worked there, that was where he was arrested, the first bee - the Moondrop. Chronos, all the houses that looked the same and his could’ve been any of them, it could’ve been onto any of them that he climbs on his birthday in the storm, ignoring how his arm screams in protest as fresh blood runs from the wound on his shoulder -

He forced himself back to his real life and looked up images of the disaster. The wall had fallen in the earthquake and he hadn’t even gotten to see it, lying down beside him and waiting for the world to end because he died after all that and what’s the use, what’s the use of the cursed city meeting its deserved fate if this is the price, if the only thing good has to go down with it and he’s so tired and his body is in shatters, a bullet in his thigh and another in his arm and the wound in his chest inexpertly treated -

He was weeping in grief over a boy he’d never met.

Cross-continental travel was expensive, but he had money put away. “Two weeks”, said his supervisor, who was kind and who hadn’t protested when he insisted that getting to the roots of his mostly harmless but persisting psychosis was to get to the roots of it and get it disproved.

He wasn’t so sure it was more a matter of proving. The NO. 6 city centre looked like it always did in pictures and film, the architecture old but still markedly modern, the people happy, the vegetation abundant. The signs were all in Japanese and English, neither of which helped him much, but through a combination of the help of the travel agency in NO. 3 and the extralinguistic nature of public transportation schedules, managed to catch a light rail going out into the parts of the city that had been the much-abused “West Block” before the earthquake.

He got off at what seemed like a right-ish distance from the wall and found the slopes of a rising hill exactly where he expected it, even if the buildings spoke of an entirely different world than the ones in his mind. The streets were changed, the houses taller, but he navigated by the sun and managed to keep a course that was steady enough until he’d climbed that hill, and found it covered in family housing with small, cheerful gardens and a school nearby. The view was different, the air smelled clean, and he felt a stab of regret at how there was no finding back to what had once been a home.

The NO. 6 Museum of Human Rights and Democracy introduced its intention to avoid future disaster like the one that had once ravaged the city, and it had an advanced audio-system that plugged into a dozen different languages. He went into the exhibit about the day the city fell, and listened to a calm woman’s voice telling him a story that was the same as the one he remembered from school. A technological Babylon rattled by an earthquake which destroyed 40% of its infrastructure, among them the police headquarters. The reveal of gruesome abuse in the name of the government and the citizens turning a blind eye to those less fortunate. Massacres, sorting human worth on their use for society, mad science, mass surveillance, secret police, human experiments on hundreds of subjects, planting a horrifying disease in their own citizens which ended in a holocaust just as the fatal earthquake set in. Hundreds dead from nature. Thousands murdered by the government elected to protect them.

No mention of lost forest gods. No mention of girls killed for their brilliance and coming back to sing the boy she loved back to life. No mention of two teenagers breaking into the correctional facility and setting off the bombs bringing it all down. The cause of the collapse remains unknown.

But by the door was a photo of the interim assembly that started the rebuilding of the city, overseeing the investigation into the abuses of the previous regime, writing the new laws and settling the philosophy of humanism that had been the guiding principle of NO. 6 ever since. And there, towards one end of the group, was a man of indeterminable age; his hair pure white as an old man’s, but his face young and lineless, save for a thick, pink scar on his left cheek.

Shion was the corresponding name among the many on the plaque below it, and he remembered watching that scar spread on his skin and how his hair had been such a lovely brown before it faded with his fever as the night passed.

Once upon a time, he’d sat on the blood-smeared floor before a lift as the sprinklers rained tepid water, and his body hurt from bullets and bruises and he’d wept, for the first time in years, because of Shion, because Shion had fallen with him and he wouldn’t have if he hadn’t brought him into it. He wiped his tears, and went back outside into the city that always held the rest of humanity to its own hard-earned standards, because maybe there had been a meaning to it and Shion had been the one to fix it, after all.

One of the ladies selling tickets in the museum had spoken some French, and pointed him to some kind of memorial outside the city centre if he was particularly interested in the topic. He followed her instructions, and ended up in some strange kind of nature reserve. In a spot in the middle of the of university district was the crater left behind after the Correctional Facility had collapsed, clearly untouched ever since. The remains of the place running all of the old NO. 6’s sins had been left to nature, and nature had reclaimed it; what hadn’t been run down by the elements had been covered with vegetation.

He walked around the edge until he was standing between the remains of the wall and the crater, closed his eyes and remembered a lightness beyond compare, an Atlas finally free of his burden as the wall had come down and the city would have to face its sins, and he is finished, he is done, and Shion lives, and everything is undone and whatever future will be made now will have to be different. He saw the determination in Shion’s eyes; he knows that he can leave it to him, like she did, because Shion will do better than him and there is an entire world waiting for him beyond this wretched place. He’s delirious from a cocktail of emotions he cannot tell apart, relief and elation and hope and freedom and a looming emptiness and a cutting regret somewhere that he doesn’t understand until Shion calls for him, and he turns around -

”you’ll be fine,” he’d said, before the fallen wall and the city beyond it, and he’d kissed Shion and he’d walked away, and he’d never seen either the city nor the boy again. It was that moment his new memories seemed to dwell on the most, recalled in excellent detail. The light of the sun setting, the faint smell of smoke in the air, the unnatural silence, the warmth of Shion’s mouth as the universe stood still for five heartbeats.

He had never loved anything the way he had loved Shion in that moment, not in that life and not in this one, and that was the core of it. The nightmarish visions made all the more real by the vivid memories of how it felt to live them could be ignored, maybe, could be dealt with with therapy or medication or well-practiced denial. What had proven to be far more distracting was the nagging knowledge that it had been a cruel mistake. If his selfishness hurt him, than that was his own lot to deal with and move on from. But he hadn’t been the only one hurt, and he never forgot how he had loved Shion in that moment, and it had been his final unfinished business, the final promise he’d never made and never got to keep.

This pilgrimage to another life and to someone who must be dead for decades since was ridiculous. Finding the spot had helped nothing, because there were no ghosts around to talk to. He had a name, now; Shion had gone on to become someone reasonably important, so surely there must’ve been a grave or at least some kind of memorial somewhere. Maybe he could go there with a muffin or a piece of cherry cake to absolve his guilt and move on with the life he was living now? Because that was the only way he could think to apologise to someone who wasn’t around any longer.

He turned around to find his way down, and hadn’t gotten more than twenty metres when he saw a figure wheeling a bike up the hill. White-haired, like an old man, but with brisk, quick movements. A teenager with bleached hair? Another tourist? He resolved to look ahead and not get caught up in ridiculous ideas and his own hopeless longing.

He risked a glance as they passed each other, and met a pair of pale blue eyes behind a pair of glasses looking curiously at him. He really did have a striking similarity to the Shion in his memories, and he was staring and it would’ve been mortifying if the other guy hadn’t also stopped to squint at him, and then latched on to his sleeve and spoke three syllables he’d never heard before but instantly recognised as himself.

“Shion?” he said before he could help himself, and those blue, blue eyes grew wide and the grip on his sleeve grew insistent.

“Nezumi,” said Shion, and he looked desperate as a stream of words fell from his mouth, occasionally punctuated by his name and small yanks at his sleeve.

It wasn’t Shion. The pallor of his skin was different, there was no scar, his face wasn’t all that similar, his eyes hadn’t been blue, a different quality to the voice, the name couldn’t be that uncommon, but this Shion seemed to know him, knew a name he’d used back then, knew this godforsaken place. He was looking increasingly more upset, and said his name, a short and despairing sentence, ending with his name.

“Shion, I can’t understand you,” he replied helplessly. “I live in No. 3. I’m sorry.”

Shion’s eyes dimmed, and then he started talking in English, and it was only fractionally better.

“I flunked all English classes,” he said, shaking his head, “shit, it wasn’t as if I’d ever thought I was going to go elsewhere. Sorry. Shion, I’m so sorry.”

Shion looked gravely disappointed, but closed his eyes and nodded. He said something more, and then he smiled a little. He lifted his free hand to his chest, and moved the hand gripping the sleeve down to make him mirror the gesture.

“Shion,” he said emphatically, he felt his hand pressed down by Shion’s.

“Yves,” he replied after a moment of recollection. Shion’s smile widened.

“Eebu,” he repeated, badly.

“Yves,” he said again and couldn’t help rolling his eyes, and Shion laughed.

“Nezumi - iia, Eebu,” he said, and there was no knowing what he meant with the words that followed until Shion remembered. He paused, still smiling widely, and made a gesture down the sides of his head and over his shoulders, and then towards his feet, and Yves rolled his eyes as he realised what Shion meant.

“Go figure,” he muttered, and wondered if it was fate that had made his parents choose that name.

“Ne, Nezumi - iia, Eebu - “

“Nezumi’s okay. Better than mangling my real name, anyway.”

Shion shook his head, still smiling.

“Nezumi, Yves...” he made a motion he hoped communicated it doesn’t matter which one, and Shion nodded, and tugged on his hand and pointed to his bike.

It had been over a decade since he’d last had to balance his body weight on somebody’s bicycle rack, but Shion seemed unfazed by the added weight as he pedaled through the darkening streets. It was utter lunacy: Walking by someone in the street in a strange city, following him to an unknown place because neither spoke the other’s language. It could be some madman, it could be some crazy serial killer, who even trusted someone just like that, believing in the fact that they knew each other but they did, they did.

He leaned his head against Shion’s back as they stopped at a crossing. His body heat leaked through the fabric of his shirt, and he remembered how he used to touch Shion, back then, because Shion was the only person so innocent that he never suspected any other motives, who’d let him feel the comfort of a living person’s warmth.

Shion lived in modest housing within comfortable distance to the university where he probably worked, at least going by the pointing and the looming book shelves and the rock collection taking up space in his living room. He acted as if this was the thousand time Yves had come home with him, and talked as if they’d always shared everyday conversation as he’d pointed Yves to his breakfast table and set to work with a kettle and a tea pot.

“You’ve done well for yourself, huh?”

Shion smiled fondly at him, and gave him a tiny, chewy cake along with the black tea.

“I thought you were all about green tea in this part of the world,” said Yves conversationally as he picked up his cup. Shion pointed to the cake and said something about it.

“I’ve never had anything like it before. It’s pretty good.”

It was ridiculous. They couldn’t communicate, beyond each other’s names and the most basic of English vocabulary. He drank his tea. Shion poked at a console on the table’s edge, and the wall next to them flicked to life of what he recognised as some database. Through a combination of voice commands and flickering touches, Shion brought up familiar images from school classes and his own dreadful research back in NO. 3. He brought them up, pointed and narrated, and Yves nodded in acknowledgement, if not understanding.

“Nezumi...”

“I’m sorry,” he said, and then he tried it in English, and Shion shook his head fondly and shrugged, and scrolled through a list until he found an entry that brought up a familiar face.

“That’s the old man - Rikiga! That’s Rikiga!” He almost jumped out of his seat to point to the picture, and Shion was grinning madly at him.

“Un, Rikiga-san desu! Nezumi - ” the rest of Shion’s overjoyed babble was lost on him, but his joy wasn’t, and for Yves laughed because he felt fully sane for the first time in five months.

Shion pulled up image after image of the old city, and Yves pointed in recognition of places that had been razed to the ground a century before he was born. Shion seemed to move through archives of the reconstruction chronologically. The work with integrating the West Block in the city proper, the new infrastructure, the political aftermath. Bit by bit, the ruins of the city he had known were overtaken by a place that looked much more like the NO. 6 of today. The market nearest to the hill. The river district. There was even one of the theatre he’d once worked at, which made Shion smile slyly and make some comment that ended with “ - ne, Eebu?”

“Shut up,” Yves retorted, and Shion brought up the next image, and froze.

It seemed to be some kind of official opening or function. Standing in the middle of the picture was Shion - the old Shion, older here than Nezumi had ever known him. He seemed to be giving a speech of some sort, serious and intent. He wore well-cut clothing. His hair was trimmed short. He looked tired, but maybe that was just how Shion had looked when he grew up? Yves hardly looked the same today as he had at sixteen.

The Shion of right now looked unhappy, and Yves suddenly wondered what his memories must’ve been like. He would remember a life in the city, probably. A life as the boy who’d had to loose his best friend his innocence and the only city he’d ever known on the same day as he’d lost his - the whatever it was that Nezumi had been to him.

Shion had kissed him, once. Nezumi had kissed him back, and turned around and never come back.

And if Nezumi had wondered how Shion had moved on, then Yves was looking at the man who had been Shion back then, and suspecting in a slow horror that Shion, back then, had waited.

The Shion-without-a-scar, Shion-with-blue-eyes-behind-glasses, tore his eyes away from the image in front of them with a soft word, and wiped his eyes.

“Did you wait?” Yves asked, and Shion, who didn’t understand the question, shook his head with another little sentence, and then he looked straight at him and asked him something in a much firmer voice. He pointed at Yves, and made a vague gesture, going back through the images.

“I went out west,” said Yves, “there were people there - I mean, you probably know that, now. Shion, he - you - wouldn’t have, back then. I think I met his dad, he was a real asshole, but except for that, it was lovely. It was bothersome, too. Uncomfortable. Lots of walking, I got pretty hungry sometimes. People were the same, a lot. Nice in small groups. Bothersome in bigger ones. I wanted to get off Japan, but when I got to the sea, I had to wait so long for a ship to come by. Did you ever see the sea, back then? I mean, NO. 6 is pretty far away from it, and all. Did you travel? Did you visit the other cities?”

Shion couldn’t answer, and Yves continued.

“So I went north, after a while. It took me almost a year. There’s this shipping town, but I think it was mostly smugglers going into NO. 4. I wanted to go over there, to the big continent.”

He stopped, snorted. “I got into NO. 4, and contracted some kind of influenza, I think, after a week. I don’t remember much of the last few days, but at least it was somewhere warm and clean.

“I think I was maybe twenty-five, by then. It probably doesn’t help to say that I wanted to go back, right? I thought so, towards the end, that I wanted to go back and see what became of NO. 6. I wanted to meet you again, and see what kind of adult you were. I wanted to - I never could admit it to myself, back then, but I wanted to be with you. I wanted to kiss you. I wanted to live together with you. But it was so far to go, and I had no money - I’d need to save up, and - whatever. I’m sorry, Shion. I’m sorry if you waited. I’m sorry if you were sad. I hope you didn’t miss me for too long. But at least I now that NO. 6 is amazing, now. I’m glad I met you, back then.”

Shion was silent for a while, and then he started speaking. It was a story that was longer than Nezumi’s. He understood nothing out of, except for the words number six. He could only listen, and when Shion’s story closed, he shook his head.

“I wish I knew what you were saying.”

“Eebu,” said Shion.

“Yeah?”

Shion asked him a question.

“Do you think it was Elyurias?” Yves answered, “do you think it was she who made us remember so that we could meet again?”

“Mm, Elyurias,” Shion confirmed.

They sat in silence for a while, until Shion grabbed a notebook and wrote down “NO. 3”, then pointed at Yves, then back to the paper.

Yves reached into his bag, and handed Shion his return ticket, to which Shion nodded, and went out into his living room. In a quick yank, his sofa pulled out into a bed, and he pointed to Yves, and then to the sofa again.

“Sure,” said Yves, “just let met cancel my hotel room.”

He spent ten days with Shion, in a parody of the five months they’d spent together in a previous life. He wandered around the city when Shion was at work, and then they spent the afternoons going places that Shion wanted to take him. Sometimes it was to places he’d known from back then - the renovated theatre, the city park, the main library where Shion pointed to a shelf of antiquated books and Yves could have wept as he recognised them. He ate the food Shion gave him, and fed Shion ice cream and crepes and coffee. They talked at each other. When they talked to each other, it was mostly through pointing and gestures and single words, and even that mostly worked.

He hadn’t known what he expected to get out of this journey when he went there, but he’d certainly found it. He had found the truth, and he’d found that he wasn’t crazy, and he’d found that the Shion who lived now was happy to meet him. The thing he hadn’t found, however, was a solution. There was still so much that he needed Shion to know, and so many things he wanted to ask Shion, and it was impossible to approach it. Any interpreter would think the two of them were crazy, and learning a language took months and years of effort. Yves had ten days, and he’d picked up little more than “yes” and “no” and “thank you” and “goodbye” by the end of his stay.

The night before he left, he dreamed of the correctional facility in disturbing detail, and woke just as he reached the part where Shion was carrying him on his back all the while having the horrible knowledge of what would happen when he sat him down to climb down the refuse chute.

Shion - the one living now, the one with blue eyes and no scar, was kneeling beside the sofa and looked as ill as Yves felt. He was stroking his hair and talking softly.

“You had the nightmare too, huh,” said Yves as he sat up. Shion stood up and caught his wrist, and tugged gently.

“Nezumi.”

He followed Shion into his bedroom, and let Shion push him down so that he sat on the edge of his bed.

“Shion...“

“Sleep,” said Shion in English and didn’t meet his eyes as he crawled into bed, and turned over so that his back faced the middle of the bed.

“Yeah, okay,” he said, and curled up on the edge of the bed. The linen smelled like Shion, and there was still a faint warmth from his body in it.

They’d shared the bed in the old room, because the sofa was beyond lumpy and had a spring poking out, and because there was a lot to be said for saving fuel by sharind body heat. They’s slept back-to-back like this for five months. Even after Nezumi had pulled Shion into his arms and taught him the walz. Even after Shion had kissed him, and left him, and Nezumi had hit him for it and agreed to follow him into hell to save a girl who was in love with him.

Yves had told Shion that Nezumi had wanted to be with him. He had no idea if Shion had ever said something about the same. Even if he was still feeling the longing of a young man a century ago, it wouldn’t be right to assume the same of Shion. What had existed between Shion and Nezumi had been so much more than a clumsy teenage romance, and technically, for all Yves knew, Shion might have a lover who had tactfully stayed away while Shion dealt with this past demons.

He couldn’t sleep, and he could tell that Shion too was awake beside him. Five months and a century of unfulfilled feelings were bearing down on them, and if they couldn’t talk about anything, then they could never speak of this night, either.

He turned around, inched closer to Shion, and put an arm around his waist as he pressed his body against his tense back. Shion’s shoulders hitched, once, and then a hand was gripping his, and Shion made a tiny, pained noise as he relaxed, and slipped a foot back to tangle in Yves’.

Breakfast was quiet, and they spoke minimally on the journey out to the airport. Shion followed him up to the boarding gate, and they stood together and waited until the passengers started filing on board. Shion looked tired, eyes bleary behind the glasses, and he was beautiful. He’d spent days looking at Shion and seeing the memories of his past, but it was now, minutes before they’d part ways again, that he realised that the pensive, exhausted man next to him was beautiful in a way that the Shion-back-then had never been to Nezumi.

When the queue formed, Shion turned to him, and said something that he of course didn’t understand.

“Thank you for having me. It was very good to be here,” he answered.

Shion smiled bravely at him, and then the smile fell, and Shion leaned forward and kissed him.

It was different from either of the kisses they’d shared back before they were who they were now. This Shion had clearly kissed more people than the boy from Lost Town had, and Yves had no reason to hold back the way Nezumi had. He pulled Shion closer, and he could have moaned at the feeling of Shion’s hand at his waist as the other cradled his neck. He breathed into Shion’s mouth as they pulled apart, and went in to taste it again, touching Shion’s jaw and ear and the fine strands of his hair. Shion’s glasses kept getting in the way when he tried to press closer, but Shion kept him close, his hands tight and firm.

It was a kiss that spoke more than a thousand words could have said, and it ended only as Yves’ name was announced in the final call by the steward standing three metres away from them and looking at them with pity as they broke apart.

Shion swallowed, handed Yves his bag, and pulled him in for a final, crushing hug before he stepped back, and they both returned to a world in which there weren’t angry forest gods.

The central library of NO. 3 had facilities for audiovisual conferences, and he got a card and paid in advance. Shion, as far as he understood, had access through his university. Their conversations happened mostly mornings before work for him and just after regular working hours for Shion; within three weeks, he knew Shion’s weekly schedule, or at least the hours. He got off early on Tuesdays, work long on Wednesdays, Fridays seemed to be unpredictable.

Every Sunday, without fail, he’d sit down in the booth and connect to Shion’s, and talk to him about his week as Shion listened, and then talked back about lord-knew-what because it wasn’t like he understood a blessed word of Japanese, and Shion seemed to have given up on his English. It didn’t feel like it mattered much. What he needed was the reminder that Shion was there, that Shion still was real.

Sometimes, they’d talk about Back Then. Shion would be saying the words “Rikiga-san” or “Safu” with considerable frequency, and he’d reply with stories about Dogkeeper and the theatre. He never talked about the Correctional Facility. There was too much to say about it, too much that Shion needed to know that he’d never known how to tell him then, and couldn’t tell him now because he spoke no language that Shion understood.

Seeing Shion’s smiling face and hearing the warmth in his voice was soothing the hour it lasted, but every time the beep warning of a minute left of his pre-paid time was a dread, would yank him back into a reality where Shion was on the other side of the world and he was here, and hearing their voices replicated throughte sub-standard speakers was the only thing they had. He’d smile as he waved goodbye, and he’d leave the library full with the knowledge that Shion still loved him, and his every day empty of the person who was meant to be next to him.

Winter was ending, and he knew something had to be done. He’d procured an audio-dictionary, which would recognise a word spoken and repeat it back in English, which eased their communications some. Shion had some kind of French aid, which he used for looking up words. Sometimes he’d speak entire phrases that he’d have to repeat thrice before they were decipherable. Yves was picking up new words in Japanese. He recognised names from Shion’s stories. He could tell when Shion asked him questions. He rarely knew if he answered them.

It had been so much easier when they were in the same place; when there was a world around them, and they could communicated by pointing and gestures and pointing. It had been so much better when they shared the same world, rather than telling each other in meaningless words as they sat in the sterile booths. They shared the same experience, he thought, he was pretty sure that Shion, too, had grown up ignorant of their past; they both shared the trauma of remembering, and the true horrors of the Correctional Facility, and a kiss on a hilltop overlooking the shattered ruins - not to mention the kiss by the airport gate.

“I want to be with you,” he said, knowing that with Shion’s atrocious concept of French pronunciations, he probably couldn’t even tell the words apart, “I wanna be in NO. 6. I want to go back there and live with you. It’s a beautiful city now. I’m tired of life here. I want to be with you.”

Shion replied in English, and he thought he said something like don’t be sad.

“I can’t afford to travel again. I need to save money, but this is so expensive. I’ve started bringing in lunch to work instead of eating out, so I can afford an extra conference card.”

The beep sounded.

“I have to go now. I miss you a lot, and I wish I could talk to you properly, so that we could make a plan. This isn’t getting us anywhere.”

Shion nodded and said something brief, and the pressed two fingers to his mouth that he moved towards the camera.

“Bye, now,” said Yves, and was sad as he tossed the used card into the bin next to the door.

The next day, he found that his food storage unit had malfunctioned, and the repairman could only shake his head in regret. “The fluid leaked into the cabinet, and cleaning it will be hazardous alone. You’ll have to have it replaced entirely.”

That was worth twice his monthly pay, and he wrote Shion an electronic letter, piecing together the pitifully little he remembered of English grammar with the help of a dictionary.

Shion,

My kitchen is destroyed. It is expensive. I have no money for conferences. I’m sorry.

Yves

A few hours later, there was a reply.

Yves,

I’m sorry to hear that. I wish I could help you. Please tell me when I can talk to you again.

Sion

The entire spring and well into summer, they exchanged brief, daily missives. His English improved, at least in writing. His new food cabinet was sleek and shiny. He kept a photo of Shion in his notebook, and he’d look at it and remember sleeping with his arms around him.

If the conferences had been empty calories, then the letters were the bare minimal above starvation. There was so much left to say, so much he had to tell Shion, so much he needed to know. Had Shion lived a happy life? Had he had a family? Did he grow old? Did he want to be with Yves, still?

Sion,

It’s warm now and the balcony herbs are sprouting. Anette had a cake at work. It was good. I want to talk with you.

Yves

It wasn’t unfair that world was vast - that was just a fact of life. And there had certainly been others before them that had been parted from their lovers. Probably from far more intimate lovers, too, though he felt like it should count for something that they’d been through this nonsense not just in one life, but in the next one too.

Yves,

It’s been eight months since you left. I was so happy to meet you, and I’m happy to send letters too. I wish you could be here.

Sion

He started practicing English words, during idle hours at work, and wondered if it was possible to get a tutor at Japanese.

August was cooling into September, and his dumb, flashy food cabinet was paid down. He had money left over from his paycheck, and he wondered when Shion’s birthday was. Wouldn’t that be some birthday present - a conference from halfway across the globe? Even if it was unlikely that Shion’s birthday was the same now as it had been the last time he lived. He should ask, his English was better, now. Sending a present would cost more than whatever he’d paid for the present proper, but he’d want to send something. Even if it was just something very small, he was sure it would make Shion happy.

He wondered if he could’ve have conversations with Shion, now. He wasn’t at all sure if he could speak English, but it surely couldn’t have been worse than Shion’s attempts at French. He wondered if a lot would have changed, if they talked now; it had been nearly six months since the last time. It had been over a year since they’d touched.

Nezumi had spent years mulling over how he was mulling over the fear that Shion had found someone else. Nezumi hadn’t wanted to want Shion, hadn’t wanted to want for Shion to want him. Nezumi had thought that love was dangerous, but Yves had lived twenty-five years without any such suspicions. He wanted his Shion, blue-eyed, unscarred, to wait for him; he wanted to be wanted, and there was a quiet despair growing that for every day that passed, Shion would realise just how stupid this was. Bonding over a shared past was one thing. Pursuing a relationship on opposite sides of the globe was impractical, at best. It was stupidly expensive, it was a constant ache.

It was the learning of a language he’d never need, because he needed for Shion to know about Nezumi’s regrets, and what Nezumi had wanted, and that he wanted to make it right, this time around.

Sunday afternoon was quiet by the library, and he leafed through the book he’d borrowed. Shakespeare. He remembered that one; remembered the contents of the play could’ve maybe cited lines from them if they hadn’t sounded all wrong when he tried speaking them in French. He soon realised that it probably wasn’t the best option for practicing his English; the language was strange and stilted, old-fashioned, probably; he couldn’t follow the sentences, and the single words he recognised were not enough to bring meaning.

He put the book down and closed his eyes. Being able to quote Shakespeare at any situation was a talent of limited applications. Being a traumatised genocide survivor was hardly better. Unconsciously destroying fourty percent of the infrastructure of the world’s most modern city was something, he supposed, but the years of unhappiness had not been worth it.

It was so much better to live comfortably with a new food cabinet, and knowing that somewhere out there was Shion, and this time, Shion knew that he’d be back.

“Do you not like the book?”

He opened his eyes, and Shion grinned at him, blue eyes hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses and his face shadowed by a truly ridiculous straw hat.

“Didn’t understand it,” he replied, and reached out a hand.

“You must practice,” said Shion as he took it. “I practiced a lot,” he said as he sat down and switched his grip so that his hand rested comfortably in Yves’.

“Don’t mock me, genuis boy,” said Yves, and Shion turned his back to the sun and took off the sunglasses.

“Nezumi. I never told you. It was very important. I love you.”

“I know.”

“Yves.”

“Yeah.”

“I love you.”

“Yeah. Shion, you know - Nezumi - “

“Yves,” Shion interrupted him, and smiled brilliantly, “I know. I know what a kiss means.”

He tilted his head expectantly, and Yves, remembering the airport, plucked the hat from his head beforehand, this time.

#no6 #no.6 #no. 6 #no 6 #nezushi #into-september #into september #naniya27

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chawarin-panich · 3 years

Text

hello i'm slowly losing my mind (because of work) and wrote crack to cope. This is a WenZhou Beauty and The Beast AU inspired by the beautiful art of @naniya27. This AU really burrowed in my head and refuses to leave. I might post more scenes on tumblr like I did with the WenZhou Arranged Marriage AU.

But here is Nanoy's art tag where there is bunches more of the AU and in general great art.

...But in all realness associating this mess with Nanoy's art embarasses me greatly haha. For a fic worthy of this AU please read demoniqt's fic on AO3

Rated T for Talking Furniture (gen)

~~~

Wen Kexing knocked loudly on the manor door.

Of course, he’s been warned copiously of the Beast that lives in this very Manor with an appetite for human flesh and blood. But he’s always thought that his father was making that up so Wen Kexing wouldn’t wander too far into the forest.

Thus far, Wen Kexing seems to have been right, an old wive’s tale to keep people from wandering into this decrepit manor. He tries opening the door a few times but its either locked or jammed beyond what his strength could dislodge.

He knocks again, louder than before, ‘hey! Anyone home I’m here to find my dad!’ He moves to the windows and sees some shadows flitting across the dark manor. Feeling slighted he bangs on the door again, ‘I know you’re hiding in there Ye Baiyi, come out!’ This time he rattles the door with his whole body, the door shaking violently in the process.

‘Come out you toad monster, I know you’re the only beast that lives here!’

Just as it feels like he’s going to run the door down, it cracks open just a smidge. Everything is doused in shadows but two cat eyes peer at him, blinking slowly, glimmering with the light from Wen Kexing’s lantern.

‘Your dad isn’t here.’ The shadow with the cat eyes responds, his voice a low growl brimming with impatience. Wen Kexing knows when a door will be slammed in his face, Ye Baiyi has done it to him too many times, and puts his foot in the little opening before that can happen.

‘Look he told me he was captured by the Beast of Four Seasons Manor.’

‘He wasn’t captured. He’s not here.’ He feels the nudge on his foot, pushing him out and flings his entire body into that little space, widening the opening just a little, the shadow moves away from him further into shadows but Wen Kexing still catches the outline of a big creature, elegant and swift.

‘That’s just the kind of thing a kidnapper would say. If you’re innocent let me search your house.’

‘Enough! Get out!’ This time he’s shoved out and the door before it is finally slammed shut in his face.

‘Please!’ He yells, ‘my father is a raging asshole but he’s my only family. He told me he’s here.’ He slips the little piece of correspondence he received in the mail that says:

Dear Idiot Boy,

I have been captured by the Beast of the Four Seasons Manor. I suppose this is where I will live out the rest of my waning years. Don’t look for me.

Wen Kexing sits on the ground in front of the manor door for a long time, resigned to spend the night here as the woods was too dark to navigate with just his little lantern. As he shuffles to make himself more comfortable, pulling out a little piece of bread to eat for dinner.

‘It says not to look for him.’ A whisper, gentle almost.

Wen Kexing scrambles to the door and leans against it so he can speak softly as well, appealing to the Beast’s kinder nature, which he hopes exists, ‘I know but he’s my dad, how can I not?’

Suddenly the door swings open and Wen Kexing falls through to the ground unceremoniously, ‘Sorry Young Master! I didn’t realize you were leaning against the door.’ A quiet, shrill voice. Wen Kexing Looks around, the Beast is nowhere to be found.

‘Welcome to the Four Season’s Manor, Young Master!’ The same voice and Wen Kexing must be hallucinating because it seems like the sound comes from…a teacup?

‘Are you talking to me little teacup?’ Wen Kexing asks, half-jokingly.

‘Yes, it’s me!’ And then the little cup hops further inside the courtyard. Wen Kexing, still dumbfounded on his knees follows.

‘Are you capturing me too?’

The little teacup laughs, ‘Of course not Young Master. Our Master was telling you the truth. He really isn’t here but we can help you find him.’

‘By your Master, you mean?’

‘The Beast of the Four Seasons Manor,’ the little teacup says making a fake scary voice and then bursts out laughing, ‘but really our Master has a very kin-

‘Chengling!’ A deep voice booms across the manor, ‘stop speaking nonsense and bring him to my study.’ The teacup hops once in surprise and looks…sheepish? Wen Kexing doesn’t know how it’s possible but he can make out a little face on this cup. The teacup hops faster, towards the direction of the voice. Wen Kexing this time has enough presence of mind to stand up before he follows it to the study.

The study is dark, illuminated only by one candle sitting atop a table, he can only see the silhouette of the Beast here too, only his eyes shining bright.

‘Do you have an item of your father’s? I can use it to track him.’

Wen Kexing blinks stupidly, shakes his head. The Beast sighs still from the shadows, ‘or even a gift he gave you would do.’

Oh that Wen Kexing does have, he bends down to reach into his boots and pulls out a little dagger.

‘Put it on the table,’ Wen Kexing takes this opportunity to move closer to the Beast, he puts his dagger down and doesn’t move away. Soon after, the Beast emerges from the shadows. He is like a manifestation of the shadows itself. Towering close the to ceiling and walking on hind legs that look ill-equipped for bipedalism. His black fur is…black, a deep black, slick and soft looking. Wen Kexing has the sudden urge to bury his face in it. The dark blue robes he dons like a human – that should look ridiculous by all means on this giant Beast – makes him look regal instead. Like he’s a God befit of devotion and worship.

Wen Kexing is aware with the very little bit of his brain not occupied with admiring this terrifying yet oddly captivating creature – that the mirror on the table has gone hazy, the reflection on it fading to black. The Beast is holding the dagger and it looks comically small in his giant paw-like hands but oddly fitting, like wielding weapons is second nature to him.

Wen Kexing is suddenly snapped back to reality by the tiny teacup - called Chengling apparently – bumping against his leg.

‘Young Master, stop daydreaming! The Divination is complete!’ Chengling hops excitedly on the flat plain of Wen Kexing’s foot. Wen Kexing suddenly remembers that he’s supposed to be looking for his father and steps closer to the table.

The Beast’s (beautiful, magnetic) jaguar-like face is pinched in confusion, ‘Are you sure your father gave you that dagger? This looks like a young man.’

‘Oh it’s him, that fucking asshole.’ Wen Kexing yells as he sees the scene unfold on the mirror. There is Ye Baiyi in his signature white robes sitting at a table in what looks like an inn, peacefully eating noodles, ‘he actually eloped with his boyfriend!’

Somewhere in the back of his head, Wen Kexing is aware that several pieces of furniture seems to be closing in around them but he’s much too busy fuming with anger to really notice.

The Beast seems to consider the situation for a few moments in wide-eyed stupor, decides he doesn’t care enough, ‘Bi Shu! See the Young Master to the gate.’

A small-ish grandfather clock, that reaches around Wen Kexing’s knees at full height, shuffles towards him. ‘Huh?’ Wen Kexing split between the confusion of a clock escort and the indignation of being kicked out, ‘No wait! Where am I going to in the middle of the night?’

‘That is none of my concern.’ The Beast says. As he makes to walk out of the study, Wen Kexing collapses to the floor, shoulders shaking and hiding his face in his sleeves as he cries, ‘my father abandoned me. I have nowhere to go.’

Both the clock and the teacup look at him with sympathy. Wen Kexing peeks his head out of his sleeves, big fat tear drops rolling down his cheeks as he looks up at the Beast with trembling lips. The Beast stares at him once more in shock as several pieces of furniture and utensils look towards the Beast imploringly.

The Beast sighs, as though he lets his furniture (and utensils) bully him on a regular basis, ‘fine you can stay for the night. But you leave as soon as day breaks!’

The little teacup hops in excitement, ‘come Young Master let me show you to your room! I mean it was my room before but a bed is much too big for me so you can take it, I sleep on the shelf with Han Ying anyhow.’ The teacup chatters as he guides Wen Kexing away

Han Ying turns out to be a teapot. He saw a candlestick wave at him, he thinks a dinner plate may have tried to hit on him, by this time Wen Kexing has stopped being surprised.

‘Ah! Master let you stay! I know he looks like a Beast but underneath all that he has the kindest heart!’

Wen Kexing nods, having sensed a sort of despondent serenity in the Beast’s behavior. He was less Beast and more troubled young man pondering the state of the world, ‘your Master. He was a man once, right?’

Han Ying wiggles his little snout which Wen Kexing interprets as a nod, ‘what happened to him?’

Han Ying sighs and a little whisp of steam flows out of his snout as a result, ‘a witch cursed him! Only with two souls joining as one can the darkness in your heart be lifted’

Wen Kexing nods sympathetically, ‘An evil witch.’

‘Oh, no no. The witch was a very nice lady. I will follow my Master to the ends of this world but how do I say this?’ Han Ying pauses and the teacup – Chengling – chirps in, ‘he was really asking for it!’

When day breaks Wen Kexing doesn’t go home. In fact, he pads about the house listening in on rooms until he hears the heavy breathing of an 8-foot animal. He slides the door open. The Beast shuffles at the loud noise this early and technically during his sleep hours.

‘Wake up Master of the Four Seasons Manor. I know how to lift your curse!’

The Beast raises his head, blinking his cat eyes sleepily. His face scrunches like a disgruntled cat when he sees Wen Kexing, ‘no thank you.’ He says and turns away from the door, pulling the covers over his head. The toes of his back paws peek out of the other end, and Wen Kexing has to fight the urge to tickle the sole. Before Wen Kexing can lose his internal battle and potentially his life as a result, the Beast suddenly raises his head once more, ‘ and get out of my house!’

fin.

A/N: yes Wen Kexing's solution is a literal interpretation of two souls joining and he demandsproposes that Beast!Zishu fuck him. But also thank you for making it through this mess, it's very touching haha

#wenzhou fanfic #nani writes

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