It’s quiet, being underwater,
The only noise in the dimly lit room around his tank being that of gentle bubbles within the water itself, rising to the surface and popping once they make contact with the cold surface air.
Crimson eyes blink tiredly as the creature within the glass prison places its webbed hands upon the thick walls of its home, trying to peer outside.
“Did you hope to see something else today?” Someone calls out from another room nearby.
The large, beautifully coloured, fins atop Wei Ying’s head perk up upon hearing that voice.
Scales covering his neck which trail down his back towards his tail, puff up slightly in anticipation,
in fear.
And he hates that he feels fear.
Hates that it’s him, he fears…
Suddenly, the sound of metal clattering disrupts the previous silence.
And despite coming from the other room, he can hear the grating noise of knives being sharpened.
Wei Ying's entire form threatens to tremble.
And it takes nearly all of his willpower to stop his scales from expanding even more.
Not today,
he won’t show it today,
won’t show he’s afraid.
He's confident,
majestic,
powerful…
or so he tells himself, tells himself this mantra of words in his head, again and again.
Until he makes himself believe it to be the truth.
By the end of this mantra, he starts to realise something.
The slicing sound of the knives…stopped.
That is-
Too soon.
He's never done sharpening his tools this soon.
Confused, Wei Ying sways closer to the edge of the glass, touches it with his face to look through it and into the large room.
It is as ever, beautiful. Decorated to the brim with the most illustrious of furniture, and the shelves are packed with glass vials all varying in colour. They glisten and sparkle whenever a few rays of sunshine enter through the elaborate Victorian windows.
But what’s out there, around him isn’t what matters most,
what’s on the inside however…
Inside those innocent looking vials...
One doesn’t need to study them for long to see what’s being displayed in them.
Eyes, noses, mouths,
bones, fish, vermin.
The hand of an elderly man,
a foot of a child.
and the teeth of one that never made it out of its mother.
Even the eye of a kraken, a beast of legend, sits proudly atop one of the shelves…
The lord of this manor, Hanguang-Jun holds many things dear to him here, in pristine condition.
Every ache, disease, oddity or smile, forever preserved here inside this room.
Forever encased within colourful glass containers.
And one of his greatest possessions, a creature recently only known in myths, now exists here within these walls.
Its face remains pressed against the glass of its tank and the scales of its tail and fins reflect into a mesmerising rainbow of light, a beautiful display in the normally dimly lit room.
Focusing on his work Hanguang-Jun carefully and with utmost precision, a result no doubt of years of repeated practice, arranges his knives and tools on his worktable in front of him.
The edge of the blade is still blunt in places, sharpened as if an amateur worked on it.
Normally he would never dare deliver such sloppy work,
but today is different.
Today, his tools won’t require precision.
Today they are allowed to be…rough…
He glances at the golden metal threads on the corner of his work bench and holds one up so it glitters in the faint light that Illuminates the room.
Yes, this wire will make a perfect base to work with.
Decision made, and tools prepared and ready Hanguang-Jun, or Wangji, gathers his things and heads into the main space.
And no matter how many times he stands in front of it, it will never fail to amaze him.
He feels his hair stand on edge, and his breath catch in his throat.
His blood pumps harder, traveling to his ears and neck staining them a vibrant red.
It does things to him, seeing such a marvel right before his eyes.
Oh, what beautiful things he could make from it.
But that, that is a thought for later.
First he must see to it that his possession is…malleable.
Wangji tilts his head, studying the caged creature before him for a few seconds longer, noticing the way its eyes dart around the room they’re in as if looking for a way out, as if trying to spot if there’s anything different.
Anything it could use.
But no.
“The room is the same as it always was Wei Ying.”
He tried but failed to stop his scales from blowing up, like a cat with its fur standing on end.
Wei Ying stares with wide eyes as the Lord of the manor now stands before his tank.
Somehow he just knows, knows that something is different today.
Normally Hanguang-Jun would come to him, open the latch to his chamber. Drag him out by pulling at the heavy chains tied around his neck and tail, and leave him on the cold floor in a constant state of suffocation.
His skin suited for life underwater would become uncomfortable dry, and his scales would bristle to show his discomfort.
He would be kept like that, only occasionally granted some water over his body to keep him alive, but just barely. Just enough so that he would continue to live, but also to know in who’s hands his life is held, to be made aware who is in control.
At the end of this ordeal, he would be various scales poorer, have a pinch of fin missing in multiple places, and would watch as another lock of his hair is sliced off and put into a container.
But again,
today seems different.
There’s something unnerving about the way Hanguang-Jun looks at him, at the way his eyes travel over his body as if examining every detail in a way he hadn’t before.
It sends a shiver down his spine and he wonders if this is the day he’ll break.
After all, he might be important, he might be considered a prized possession to his arsenal of treasures.
But he isn’t Hanguang-Jun’s most cherished one.
That,
that lies in front of him, and in between him and Lord Wangji.
There in the midst of the both of them, a golden metal table carries the one thing more important than him.
But before he can gaze upon it, he's distracted when from the corner of his eyes he sees sharp tools glisten as Hanguang-Jun, careful of the object in the middle, steps closer to his cage.
And Wei Ying ignores the way Wangji’s words make him shudder, they’re meant to demotivate him, to make him lose any hope of ever leaving, he knows this.
So he tries to respond coming from a different angle, because despite his unease he is still curious…
What more could there be, he’s given him so much, done so much…
“Ah Lan Zhan, what more do you want from me?”
His Lord doesn’t grant him a response, so he continues, saying the only thing he can think of that might mean something, that might stir something within Wangji.
“I already gave you my heart long ago”
Atop the gilded table lies a bowl filled with water with a reddened sheen.
In it, is the one thing Hanguang-Jun treasures more above all else.
Wei Wuxian's still-beating heart.
Wei Ying himself might be Hanguang-Jun’s beloved jewel,
But it is the heart that allows Wangji true control over him, with that in his possession,
Wei Ying can never truly leave.
First entry for @sasukimimochi 's Writing&Drawing Challenge!
First prompt is "Immortal" , enjoy~
Also go check out Moma's ficlet for the same prompt! <3
A loving home
A brilliant son
A beautiful husband
Wei Ying had never been happier.
But happiness…is a fleeting thing, isn’t it?
â—† â—‡ â—†
The moon shines brightly, a stark contrast to the dark evening sky which encompasses the land below.
And the stars that normally accompany the moon seem to have run away. Not out of shyness, no.
Rather, they do not want to bear witness to yet another night of sorrow.
Of crying.
Of screaming…
â—† â—‡ â—†
Wei Wuxian gently caresses a bundle of faded white fabric (with a feather-light touch.)
Mindful of its fragility, he holds the few remaining threads between two of his fingers. Twirling the strands in between them as they stubbornly try to keep together in a semblance of what they once were.
A single piece of long thin fabric, shining brilliantly wherever it and its owner went.
The faded remains of its previous brilliance now lie draped over something vaguely round, this perhaps held even more carefully within the palm of Wei Wuxian’s hand than the fabric itself.
Perhaps it was a noise outside startling him, or perhaps it was merely a shiver running through him due to the exhaustion that plagues him regularly.
Whatever the case.
His light hold on the object tightened just a bit, just for a moment, not even a fraction of a second…
And the fragile object held within his hands,
Shatters…
The skull once held securely within Wei Ying’s hands now lies as dust on the cave’s floor…nearly indistinguishable from the dirt surrounding it.
â—† â—‡ â—†
A blessing, it should’ve been a blessing,
This…. immortal existence,
This gift,
Curse
Immortal…
Immortality…
It was what they wanted…what he wanted…
To be able to live with his husband, to be at his beloved’s side for all of time.
To be able to wake up and see those golden eyes soften with love upon looking at his own and gift the other a dazzling smile in kind.
To be in love forever …
Love…
What a cruel thing…
“Tell us Wei Wuxian, how do you like your gift?
Don’t you enjoy it?
This glorious eternal life.
Wasn’t it worth it?
Wasn’t it everything you wished for?
Aren’t you supposed to be happy?
Didn’t you get what you both wanted?”
â—† â—‡ â—†
Long ago it became apparent Wei Wuxian was falling behind.
His husband, Lan Wangji was nearing immortality and him?
He wasn’t anywhere close to getting to that level, he tried and tried. Trained day and night but to no avail.
More years went by and his golden core didn’t change,
But he did.
As he started aging so did his worries grow.
Lan Zhan would become immortal and he would die.
This couldn’t happen.
It wouldn’t happen.
So they searched.
Both of them searched far and wide for a way to improve Wei Ying’s golden core or even for ways to bypass the process entirely.
All for the one purpose, for them to live together.
And when all looked hopeless,
One day it happened.
Wei Wuxian came home and Wangji, his husband was smiling.
A comforting small smile that spoke to him “all will be alright now”.
They found it.
A ritual for life eternal.
Wei Wuxian was so happy. He vividly remembers talking his husbands ear off, so joyful was he.
His husband merely continued to smile softly.
â—† â—‡ â—†
Now, he looks numbly at the ashes before him.
He looks at all that remains from his husband.
His head, now dust.
Wei Ying’s knees are on the floor as he, with trembling hands, desperately tries to stop his Lan Zhan’s crumbly remains from flowing away with the lightest of breezes.
Some particles of dust still escape with the wind and disappear before his eyes.
And as he sees another part of his husband leave him.
Another part of his heart leaves with it.
He thinks back to how happy he was when Wangji told him he found a ritual to immortality, for him to become an immortal.
He wishes he wasn’t so blind.
He wishes he asked.
He wishes he knew.
Wishes he realised back then…
Wangji never told him what the ritual required.
Now all he can do is stare at the ashes before him, and the threads of his husband’s ribbon buried underneath it as the voices return.
“Knowing now the sacrifice required,
We ask again Wei Wuxian.
Was it worth it?
This is a little extra/rewrite of a short-story i had the pleasure of reading and reviewing from ffxiv_daddy (instagram link) nsfw fyi.
The original idea is from them!
There's still some WIP in this cause I wrote this on a whim but it was so fun~
“Just hold still while I find the right angle”
The man’s voice was cold,
professional.
Calculated.
The heat of the surrounding camera lights warmed his skin.
Warmed the both of them.
He looked up and both felt and saw the other man’s body hovering over his own.
The man’s , who he decided in his mind to call “Daddy”, was focused on fine-tuning the angle of a remote camera. So absorbed in his work Daddy was, that he didn’t notice the staring of the one below.
He looked at him, looked at Daddy.
All he could focus on was the heart shaped tattoo artfully placed next to the man’s intense eye that nearly bulged out of its socket. So engrossed was it in its task.
The second thing he noticed as his own eyes drifted was a single bead of sweat, sliding down the curve of that strong jaw.
The bead almost looked…
Black.
That can’t be right? Can it?
Not to mention, the more he looked-
He realised;
There was not a single other sign of sweat on that man’s face.
Only one bead, one drop.
It was as if it manifested right then and there.
Originating from somewhere deep within Daddy’s black heart.
It seemed to pulse as it moved, slowly.
A small collection of moisture that formed a larger droplet, trailing down a wide stubbly chin.
It stayed there for a while, almost as if resting comfortably on its owner until finally-
Daddy moved.
There was a soft sound of something rustling as Daddy adjusted his position above him.
The droplet,
Fell.
Right in between the shallow gap of their bodies.
All was silent,
The sweat drop touched his skin.
What?
It's Burning?
It is Burning?!
That tiny bead’s touch felt like someone poured scalding water onto his skin.
Like he was a demon in a movie that just got attacked by holy water.
Sizzling and seething hot,
isolated in one small spot.
Which made the experience all the more surreal.
All the more startling-
But before he could react-
A large hand attentively cupped his cheek.
He wanted to look up to the man and say….or do something but
Daddy spoke up first.
His voice rang out stern but calm and said;
“I’ve got it now, Don’t move.”
And suddenly, just like that,
it was over.
A single blinding flash of a camera and daddy moved off to check his shot.
As soon as he left, the bed he laid on felt cold, without the radiating heat of the other man it felt as if the room had turned to ice.
Even the air around him made his own damp body feel chilled.
His cheek however still felt the warmth of the burn mark left behind from Daddy.
From where Daddy had so carefully held his face.
Amongst the ice now spreading through his body there was yet one other spot of roaring heat.
Heat that only got warmer.
Strange-
Intrigued, eventually he managed to lift his head up a bit, to look at his chest.
He was met with what could only be described as a looking at the remnants of a murder scene.
And he was the victim that laid there, looking like he had taken a bullet wound to the chest.
Daddy’s sweat droplet had pierced a hole through his heart.
