if u dont acknowledge the fanfics u read, the writer won’t think anyone is actually taking the time to read their stuff, which makes our effort feel wasted and our passions feel worthless
Warning : Nothing too serious, but there are some suffocation
Word count : 2.2k
Dividers by : @/saradika
He could feel the wind blowing his hair, sprawling on the curves of his face as he snorted irritably, eyes slowly fluttering open and immediately attracting the attention of a pair of eyes, he looked up to the person whose head hovers above him and saw their gaze full of adoration.
Who…?
They chuckled while brushing his locks of snowy white hair away from his face, their hands were calloused and fingers—not as long as those akin of piano fingers—but still long enough to leave wispy trails on his head. His eyelids would slowly shut itself once more and feel the gentle air lulling him to sleep.
Where are the colours…?
If it wasn't for the person to open it back up with force, they placed their thumb of their open hand against their forehead with a pouty face to which the young man sighed lightly and sat up, sitting eye to eye with them. He felt himself smiling as the younger one showed their messily braided hair.
“What is it, ████?”
What did I just say?
The younger one placed their fist with their thumb sticking upwards on the palm of their other hand, then dragged them to their chest. “Sure sure, c’mere” the tween sat on his lap and his calloused hands did the handiwork, the strands of hair he carefully weaved together would flail around by the wind, one by one he’d put them back in place, the serene atmosphere eased his muscles and he felt himself humming absentmindedly. But he’d be lying if he said that rearranging the slipping strands back into place didn’t piss him off, “kid, your hair is really slippery y’know that?”
Why am I doing this again?
The ‘kid’ shook with hands on their mouth, head turned to look up at him with mischievous glint in their eyes, he felt it despite not being able to see it clearly “don’t move, I’m gonna mess it up!” They just shook even more, giggling at his annoyance. The man sighed and rolled his eyes. This kid was clearly a piece of work, but he was amused nonetheless and made quick work with the braiding. Long silky two-tones of ██████ ███ █████, adorned with ribbons. His heart skipped a beat.
Tied into a four-knotted ribbon. He couldn’t see it clearly, but he could’ve sworn there was something on their face, an unreadable expression despite the blur of his vision…? Or…what is this? Something’s nagging at the back of his mind, groaning, massaging his temples as it keeps shivering at whatever’s bothering his mind. The kid stood up with what he could assume a worried expression, he could see the corners of their mouth made a downturned arch. Their hands reached out to his, “dear, it’s alright” ████’s not taking it, but their hands dropped to their sides at his assuring smile.
Who are you…?
Tack tack tack tack tack tack tack…
The scent of boiled vegetables wafting in the kitchen, only silence enveloped the living quarter aside from the knife making contact with the cutting board, same could be said for the soft scratching coming from the other side of the living space. ████ was probably carving something again. He raised the cutting board and let the vegetables fall into the boiling water, accompanied by the ingredients he had put in before.
What am I doing here?
His head tilted and his hands were frozen in position. The sound of the boiling water bubbles rose and popped in a matter of seconds, crashing the metallic walls with its contents bouncing with the waves. Are those carrots? Are those radishes? Potatoes? Slowly softening its texture alongside the grays… or greens of whatever leaves he put in there starting to lose its density and become more limp.
Attention went elsewhere, instead of expecting the familiar gust of wind he only saw walls, doors, tables, potted plants on shelves with vines running along the wall, garlands and lamps hanging off the ceiling, carved statues from wood sat on the windowsills. ████ would change the garlands every so often when its colours began to fade or when it started to cripple, he always thought how cute that was. For living in ████████████, a world untouched by ███ █████, this life wasn’t too lonely with all these.
How did I…
A tug on his shirt brought him back from his trance. The younger one, the kid, it’s evident that they’re afraid of…whatever’s wrong with him. The man jumped upon contact, looking down and gazed into their eyes and their hands, one still had its grip on his shirt while the other was kept close to their chest. Putting down the kitchenware before kneeling down to their eye level, “hey hey I’m alright don’t worry” he motioned to his whole body, assuring with a gentle squeeze on their shoulder.
He could sense the hesitation when they nodded, “nothing to be worried of” that uncertainty still lingers and he just got a hug from ███ ████████, his heart clenched and swelled at the gesture but hugged back, hand on their shoulder and hair, caressing it lightly. There’s nothing wrong with him, they don’t need to worry about anything, he’s here.
Then why does it hurt?
There was something new in the area—green—a carved wooden statue sat on the table painted in green. ████ looked at the direction his attention went to, spotting their handmade statue and a smile made its way to their face, releasing from the hug and took the small statue for him to see.
Like any other of ████’s creations it was made of wood, inspecting the bumps and corners of the handiwork a tug of his lips would turn up. It is no work of a professional or a master carver, the carves were still rough, the shape maybe evident and the painting was quite messy to put it lightly, but he loved it.
“This is really pretty” It’s definitely something he hasn't seen before, it looks like a serpent yet it has the characteristics of a lion, cute, then he took notice of two wings on its back.
The kid pointed at the serpent, held both fists up—palm facing downwards—then moved them down, then their right hand tucked in their middle and ring fingers before moving their arms diagonally across their body and face. “Really? That’s awesome” they gave him a closed eyed smile as they bounced lightly, giving this winged lion serpent another inspection he noticed something.
Heart skipped a beat, inhaling a sharp breath, it felt like his lungs didn’t get any air for one millisecond. Sweat ran down his temples as he breathed out air, trembling slightly. “Ugh…” he really needed to keep it together, clapping and massaging his head with newfound fatigue coming in slowly.
Eyes shot open for his attention to be directed to ████’s craftsmanship once again, as familiarity washed over his senses. The young man had a craving for reading all of the sudden.
“I’ll…finish dinner in a bit, we can do something after. Waddya say?”
They didn’t sign anything as a response, just a nod as they retreated to where they were once made their winged-lion-serpent, he’ll take that. He turned off the stove and the bubbles slowly stopped appearing, the warmth was gone and it’s colder than ever.
When the ripples dissipated, the surface cleared and entered a still state. The man who's spent his time standing—staring—dozing on the kitchen counter, saw a glimpse of light coloured eyes in the reflection, silky snow white hair framing his scar-littered face. Without moving an inch from his side, the reflection moved and donned a mask. His arms ejected his body backwards, hitting the counter with bated breath.
What was that?!
Mind occupied with haze, his eyes couldn’t see where he was going—where his feet were taking him—each step felt the same, an advance forward was all just a blur of black and white and colours he couldn’t describe or comprehend. His feet moved with quick steady steps, one step after another, maintaining its speed for…he didn’t know how long he’d been walking.
He couldn’t feel his body going to finish anytime soon, one scenery seemed the same with any other he went past. He didn’t feel any fatigue. At all. Walking mindlessly in…nowhere.
What am I doing…?
He could feel the humidity, and the soil, and the tree branches that hit his face, and the shivers running down his body. ████ must be cold right now…
Who again…?
It’s silent. Too silent. Walking around in circles, with a clouded mind, and no destination. He could feel himself screaming for something—for someone—but even his voice was drowned by the downpour, joining the harmony of white noises that have been echoing in his ears. Like a zombie wandering around with nothing in mind, and just the body and muscle and nerves to move around.
It’s been too long he’s been in this state. Walking. Wandering. Searching.
It’s suffocating, to see the same murky shades of colours in black and white, to have little to no control over your body. What was he doing? Why did he do this? What was this for? For his power over his own body to be stripped off. Right then and there, he felt a sharp sensation—biting cold—on his wrist, ankles, and torso. After a long time—just wasting his time, wasting his energy, wasting his efforts looking for something—his body finally jolted from the constant cycle, inhaling and exhaling shallow breaths.
He looked down, hands trembling—whole body trembling—with shaky breath, he took another step and there’s pounding in his chest, he winced before bringing his hand to his heart. No doubt he’s been tiring himself out, what was he thinking? Foolish. Breathing wouldn’t be this difficult if it wasn’t for his aching chest, and where did the air go, he could’ve sworn it was so humid it drenched him head to toe.
Taking a step, his feet staggered. Taking another, he wobbled. Another, his body went limp on the ground.
There in the middle of nowhere, with blurry vision, and a weakened body. His head turned and saw yellow, with the form he could make out as a small flower.
His heart skipped many beats, it ached, he groaned as he curled up with his hand clutching the fabric on his chest. He let out a choked groan. He tried to breathe, he tried to move, but he could only feel his chest burning and his hand felt the heat it radiated. Breathing haphazardly, on the ground, alone.
Why can’t I breathe?!
Mouth gaped as a broken scream came out from it, his tears burning his eyelids, dry throat triggered a painful cough. He tried to get up, arms shaking like crazy, then saw yellow droplets on the ground. Bringing his hand up to touch his…tears…fingertips made contact with the liquid, only to retract when he felt his finger burn on contact.
Grunting as he clutched his head, his grips tight, a headache forming and eyes shut tight. Not paying attention to the footsteps coming his way while he had his head hanging low. A hand grabbed his wrist, stopping what he did and loosening his grip on his hair. All of the sudden everything is silent. No more of the echoing, low, high-pitched ringing in his ears.
His breath hitched when he looked up, he let out a shaky sigh at the sight. A mask, concealing a man with snow white hair, the masked one rubbed the tears off his cheek without minding the burning heat. Taking off his mask he could see someone painfully familiar, he recoiled but a firm hand prevented him from backing away even further.
It’s him. Light coloured eyes, silky snow white hair framing his scar-littered face.
His mask was brought up to his face instead, he could hear his words among the silence.
The other released his grip as the mask concealed his face, his tears were now dry and he can only see from the holes of the mask. His hand touched his dimly glowing chest, his heart skipped a beat, the gentle hold suddenly pushed him to the ground.
…̴̱̯̀S̶̡̤̏̚ÿ̴̫͍́b̷̘̍̅i̴̞̅l̵̰̽ͅl̷̗̃y̵̰̽̿n̵̥̆͝
The ground where he sat shattered as he made contact with a body of water, slowly drowning…shades of blue and purple engulfed him. Each heartbeat pulsating his life throughout his body, a dim yellow lit up each beat.
And he could feel himself dropping.
He jumps off his bed in urgency with a loud scream, hair messily sprawling all over his face, the young man puts his hand on his chest—his heart beating rapidly—and he can feel his cheeks starting to wet, “tears…” he hesitates but touches the liquid and bring it to his vision. It’s clear and warm. A sigh escapes his lips, looking at his bedside there’s a mask lying on the drawer.
His door slides open with a loud slam as he yelps and darts his attention to his side, when he sees no one his eyes look down. Lo and behold the conductor has their ear on his door frame and stares at the awakened young man with cute wide blue eyes of theirs. Pom-Pom literally jumps.
Warning : Violence, death, hallucinations, death, amputation— (please do tell me if I need to add more!)
Word count : 2k
Dividers by : @/saradika
“Fēng gē…” Her ears twitched at the mention of that name. Her segmental heterochromic eyes of light turquoise and indigo who set their gaze on the slowly ascending sun on the horizon before their attention went behind her, a boy setting a stool on the patch of grass behind the fence where she stood.
“…do you ever get bored?” The same question as any other day from the same young boy while sitting on a stool, "about what?" Answered the one standing on the fence as she tilted her head at him with a raised eyebrow. “Living so long?” The question just got a laugh from the long-eared girl before fully facing him, "never" she simply answered, his youthful eyes went wide at her.
She folded her arms as the fresh morning breeze ran along the strands of her hair, the tails of her clothes flowing behind her. Her gaze landed on the houses made of woods and crops planted on the terraces greeted by the sunrise, the people just doing whatever they are doing right now, live the life without the need to worry about monsters that will invade their homes. She may not be part of that life, but nevertheless she is glad that she has the chance of protecting it.
“I'm never tired of this” and without another word, she was gone in a blink of an eye. Literally. The boy just blinked and he was gone from his sight. The wind seemed to have stopped blowing before a breeze caressed his small body.
Soaring in the sky with her form being carried away by the wind will always, without fail, soothe her. To see the towering mountains, the sea, to see the cities, villages, houses filled with people living happily under her protection. She may not be part of that life, but nevertheless she is glad that she has the chance of protecting it.
Her movements, graceful yet every slash she made with her swings would penetrate any cover protecting the vital points of her enemies. With every step she takes, even the one with the lightest appearance, she's quick to move from one spot to another, before her polearm pierces her targets to finish the job.
One step after another. One thrust followed by another one. One swing and another one follows without even letting her target go. And even then she would question herself, if she looked at the field full of dead remains and the blood tainting the color of the earth with her absentminded gaze. The grip on her polearm loosened as the battle was finally over. Dust and blood on her body and clothes.
“Fēng gē”
Her eyes would shake in the slightest at the mention of her name from him, her grip tightened. She just let out an exhale, not even batting an eye at his direction, only his dark purple boots with its golden accents were visible.
Seething in breath she turned on her heel, “we deal with death. It is our duty…” Then twisted her body behind as she sent the polearm flying straight to the chest of the remaining hilichurl. Its squirming died out, she pulled out her weapon to see the creature falling helplessly—lifelessly—on the ground, her eyes trailed their way to her blood soaked blade.
She turned back to her initial position and this time, she lifted her head. “…And shall not be swayed by mortal ideals” after she said that she let out another sigh, his golden irises stared back at her. The next thing she realized she was gone, only to leave specks of anemo behind.
It's the truth and that's her life. To live long and fight for the weak, to drift in the wind and carry the wishes and letters of the mortals and gods alike, to see those she knew wilt and their stories eroded by time but remained in her mind. But until when will she keep herself away from the erosion? Even then, tales of old would and will sprout in the future. That she shan't worry about.
Although, the life she's living right now. It feels sour.
“Lady Fēng gē!”
He chose her to protect those in need, if she can taint her hands with the blood of her enemies then so be it. Mortal lives are short, their bodies are weak, horror beyond human comprehension could break them. Their calling brought her awake from her peaceful state under the waterfall, next to the sound of ravaging, screams, the cackles and roars would make her pointed ears drop.
That's her cue to enter the depths of the underground. And that's the only time he defied his orders.
The soldiers would cry tears of joy just at the mere glimpse of cyan outlines of her dress thrusting into the depths of the mine, sending the monsters flying on impact.
As expected from a battle to push the monsters back, lives were lost. Sight of lifeless bodies scattered on the ground, the overflowing energies from both sides, and the stench of blood flying into her nostrils made her want to puke. Fire courses through her muscles to the point of numbness. Her sight began to blur, black dots would interrupt her vision, or perhaps the large amount of red on the scene began to overwhelm her.
For how many times she swung her polearm, how many monsters she pushed back into the shadows from where they came, how many times bursts of anemo she unleashed. Everything seemed static. What brought her back from her state of mind was the high concentration of electro she felt, then rumbles and zaps from the other area of the battlefield. Each one's concentration would become stronger and stronger.
“Brother Alatus, I got you covered!”
A loud boom, a confident fighter, who unfortunately isn't in the sane mind.
But even then, the monsters kept pushing the vanguard to climb their way onto the surface. She felt herself slowly losing her sense of reality, her swings became more rough, her body was what could be described as fierce as a beast. She saw red, her vision would turn blue every so often and sometimes purple, her breathing was unsteady. Persistence is the only way for her to win or go back to the surface, with the power of anemo she decides to lighten her body, to ease her searing pain from every movement.
What she felt next was strong arms gripping her smaller body and she found herself thrown up. The blue sky and the light brought down by the sun was almost overwhelming, the number of people standing near her lying body on the patch of grass, many eyes set on her tattered and beaten body. Her eyes finally widened in realization, she's on the surface.
She would rise up and reach for her polearm only to end up falling on the ground.
“Fēng gē…”
It felt like a plague had been living in her mind and would rise every time she'd fall into unconsciousness. Headaches, pain in her body, hallucinary images. What parasites could live so long, for years? Decades? Centuries? She doesn't even know anymore.
Memories seemed like a partially burnt scroll. Even the waterfall would end up making her more agitated than ever.
But just one glance, just seeing the prosperous life mortals have made for their lives, her mind would end up in a trance and hollowed chest. At the same time, every sun's rising and its time to set into the horizon, to see the city still standing and full of life. Her sanity may be slowly—but surely—deteriorating, her chest may feel hollow, her movements may not have the grace and lightness in it.
Even then, she felt content.
“…you've strayed from your duty”
All she saw was red, even worse everything was a blur and the dark dots appeared, fades of blue and purple clouding her vision with their murky tints.
What did he mean by that?
Everything felt numb. Every time the wind blows it feels as if they passed through her body, like a leaf with holes from being eaten. She felt cold. She felt light-headed. She could feel her body easily swayed by the wind, it's as if another blow would knock her over.
What's going on?
Her ears—in her current state—anything that entered her ears were apparently sharp only to end up with buzzing and ringing. Like combining electro and pyro, her ravaged breathing, the numbing pain coursing through her body, the ringing and the buzzing that would later turn into something louder and ear-splitting.
What did she do?
She wanted to rip her flesh out while she screamed. Her head would meet the clawing fingers for she couldn't even open her head to relieve the pain. The wish to just comb in one place right then and there, to be free from the invisible entrapment she's experiencing, like multiple ropes tying her body tighter every second.
All those feelings came rushing down as she stood there in the middle of corpses bearing the four-sided arcing shape.
Then a fresh feeling came from her left arm. It brought relief like being released from a leash, her moment of joy was cut off when her purplish indigo eyes set their attention to her red-soaked arm.
On the ground.
While blood continuously drips from where the limb was supposed to be.
This parasite inside her seemed to take the joy of taking over, as all she felt before her amputation amplified many folds. Sense of reality didn't even graze her a bit. In her eyes, she saw a monster as her grip on her polearm tightened and it could break it. She saw them in, ready to fall, but she kept slashing and swinging.
She could hear herself scream.
But, about what?
Everything was a murky darkness she desperately wanted to free herself from, only for it to pull back. Then something cold embraced her whole body. A movement she made would be restrained from the external force he—they—had set.
...
Everything feels static, to know what day, year, how long, or wherever she is, her sense of reality seems to be slipping away. Thick mist clouding every other direction she turned to. And everything felt heavy, like being plunged into the very depths of the ocean where she would be squeezed by the pressure, rendering her immobile and attempt at resistance would worsen.
It's suffocating. She used up all of her strength just trying to keep the pain under control.
But just like many living things in the world, her body would give up on her. When all energy drained, she'd shut down. This feeling—how familiar—surely this wasn't her first time, tainted and murky. All tense muscles began to loosen and the silence was no more deafening, instead it was a sense of peace.
At times like these whenever her body stopped from being a weapon, her body would unwind and let the warmth of the sun wash over her, the wind to carry her fatigue away, the Earth to embrace her battered body. How beautiful… Everything seems to be washed down the drain, the murkiness and the squeezing feel on her body.
Sleep in silence, alone, the only other sound was her heartbeat. Every so often, even the sound of her bloodstream would make their way to her hearing. She guesses...
When was the last time the wind brushed between her hair? It's cold, but comforting. The scent flies up to her nostrils, the smell of grass, dirt, bodies of water.
She could feel her body moving, her fingers twitching. Seething, to feel how dry her mouth was. The urge to open her eyes was huge. Everything seemed to be too bright. Now her heartbeats weren't the only sound, her fist would clench and unclench itself, before relaxing.
