Ghost hunting au with blade and jing yuan would be so funny tbh like imagine you being scared af navigating this haunted as hell house and meanwhile jing yuan is the embodiment of the "hello demons it's me ya boy."
blade is standing behind the camera filming the two of you with the most judgmental look on his face.
Jing Yuan, more than friends and less than lovers moment, where it becomes second nature for him to straighten himself out first when youâre both seated. His arm goes behind his back while he offers his hand out to you, and he revels in the warmth of your fingers brushing against his palm. As he helps you up, his grip remains even as you stand and when he starts to lead the way. Thereâs no rush to let go when your hand holding his seem to fit perfectly together.
The unironically funniest shit with hsr is how jing yuan keeps getting indirect buffs despite everyone for a year harping about how bad he is and how badly designed his kit is. Considering we just got conformation that they want to make older characters more viable (we dont know if its gonna be full redesign or multiplier increase or supports) i think its pretty safe to assume jing yuan will get another buff which is. So hilarious. Nothing can stop the general
i wanted to write a poem for nicole @mostmagical and then @ninadove inspired me so here it is... if it's your first time reading a contrapuntal, you read it thrice. once down the left column, once down the right column, and once all together. plain text below.
-
ren
i could live
in the dream you have of me
the one with the garden
and the finches who halo your hair
with their wings
cascading like stars
your hands
and the warmth of your body
could have been everything
if she hadnât fallen from the sky
on that day
i remember thinking
the ribbon you wore had come loose
red like the sun shading over your face
i wanted
a better ending
a hundred years
of white hair and wrinkles
the wine we shared on that shoreline
better than any
tell me something
tell me it hurts
tell me you ache and gasp and beg
the way i do
only now i
do
not
remember
-
jing yuan
forever
was supposed to be never ending
now sleeping with nothing but memories
feathered in your breathing
over my skin
your heartbeat
could have been enough
if you hadnât carved it out
and left my chest empty
the day you laid in your own grave
part of me died along with you
and it wouldnât be returning
like blood and viscera spilling from my seams
for you
i would have taken
no more, no less
your firelight smile twined with mine
warmth
unreachable paradise
i want to know
to be without this feeling
to have that dream of us again
the way i want you to
wake up
you know i am waiting for you to
let go of me
to learn how to grieve
the time when you loved me
-
renjing
i could live forever
in the dream you have of me
the one with the garden was supposed to be never ending
and the finches who halo your hair, now sleeping with nothing but memories
with their wings feathered in your breathing
cascading like stars over my skin
your hands, your heartbeat
and the warmth of your body could have been enough
could have been everything if you hadnât carved it out
if she hadnât fallen from the sky and left my chest empty
on that day, the day you laid in your own grave
i remember thinking part of me died along with you
the ribbon you wore had come loose and it wouldnât be returning
red like the sun shading over your face, like blood and viscera spilling from my seams
i wanted for you
a better ending; i would have taken
a hundred years, no more, no less
of white hair and wrinkles, your firelight smile twined with mine
the wine we shared on that shoreline, warmth
better than any unreachable paradise
tell me something i want to know
tell me it hurts to be without this feeling
tell me you ache and gasp and beg to have that dream of us again
the way i do, the way i want you to
only now i wake up
do you know i am waiting for you to
not let go of me
to learn how to grieve
remember the time when you loved me?
I'm currently experiencing hsr brainrot help me, may I request aventurine, blade, sunday, jing yuan and boothill about their types or preferences(appearance, personality, and stuff like that) for their future significant partner? I'm not sure if this had been already done so ignore if yes!! Also I'm a new follower and I've read many of your works recently, I really love your writing style and how it ticks my brainrot just righttt âĄâĄâĄ
HSR Characters and their preferences in a S/O
A/N: I tried my best here, but I didnât get into specifics about hair color, eye color, or other physical attributes (except for scars and such). So please, donât come after me (Iâm joking, of course). After all, at the end of the day, itâs all fictional! đ And this is just my personal opinion on what the men would want in a S/O đ. I hope you like this!
Appearance:
Aventurine is captivated by individuals who radiate subtle individualityâthose who blend sophistication with an undercurrent of boldness. Unconventional touches like asymmetrical accessories, vibrant patterns, or a daring hairstyle intrigue him, especially when worn with confidence.
Heâs drawn to a balance between practicality and eleganceâsomeone whose style is functional yet carries an artistic flair, a quiet rebellion against conformity.
A piercing gaze, sharp and confident, mesmerizes him. He loves the challenge of eyes that seem to see past his charm and into the broken truths he hides.
Scars, blemishes, or physical imperfections catch his attention. They whisper untold stories he aches to unravel, providing a glimpse into the person beyond the surface.
Personality:
Aventurine seeks a partner who thrives in the dance of words and wit. Heâs fascinated by someone who can keep him guessingâplayfully resistant to his charm and never predictable.
Heâs drawn to people whoâve endured hardship and emerged stronger, finding common ground in shared trauma or survival instincts.
While Aventurine guards his vulnerability, he craves someone with the emotional intelligence to see past his bravado. Their ability to intuit his needs, even when unspoken, creates a sense of safety.
He admires a grounding presenceâsomeone self-assured yet humble, who can counterbalance his more dramatic tendencies without overshadowing him.
Compatibility:
High-stakes situations invigorate him, so he appreciates a partner who thrives under pressure. Whether itâs in a game of strategy or a tense negotiation, he seeks someone who can match his composure and cunning.
Trust is a slow-burning process for Aventurine. His partner must be patient, willing to navigate his walls without forcing him to open up before heâs ready.
Dynamic:
Aventurine doesnât just want a loverâhe needs a partner-in-crime. Someone willing to embrace the thrill of calculated risks, whether itâs a dangerous gamble or a perfectly executed scheme.
They balance his indulgent tendencies, providing a steady hand when he flirts with self-destruction. Together, they form a dynamic duoâequal parts chaos and control.
Appearance:
Blade has little concern for traditional beauty, focusing instead on the feeling someone evokes. Heâs drawn to understated traits that exude calm, mystery, or quiet strength.
A serene or enigmatic aura captivates him, especially in those who seem like theyâve weathered storms of their own. Scars or imperfections are less flaws and more badges of survivalâsilent testaments to a shared pain.
Thereâs a certain poetry in subtlety that Blade finds magnetic, such as the way someone carries themselves or a fleeting, knowing glance.
Personality:
Bladeâs ideal partner must embody gentle resilienceâa quiet strength that offers stability amidst his chaos. Heâs not drawn to overt displays of power but rather to those who endure with grace.
His partner needs to respect his emotional distance and allow their bond to deepen organically. They provide solace through presence, not pressure.
Understanding his guilt and anger without pitying him is crucial. He needs someone who offers comfort without trying to âfixâ him.
He admires individuals who remain true to themselves, even in the face of his volatility. Their grounded nature becomes his anchor.
Compatibility:
Blade struggles with verbal affection and grand gestures. His partner must value actions over wordsâsmall, meaningful gestures like a shared silence or a comforting touch.
Loyalty is paramount. Blade often tests boundaries, whether intentionally or not, and needs a partner who remains steadfast in their care.
Dynamic:
Blade seeks a relationship built on mutual protection. His ideal partner isnât there to save him but to walk beside him as he confronts his demons.
Their love is a slow-burning fire, marked by quiet moments of vulnerability and unspoken understanding. They donât demand his trust but earn it, piece by fractured piece.
Appearance:
Sunday gravitates toward those with an ethereal or graceful qualityâa beauty that feels otherworldly yet grounded. He appreciates the quiet elegance that reflects his Halovian heritage.
Symbolic trinkets or meaningful accessories, like earrings or pendants, resonate deeply with him, mirroring his love for intricate details and subtle meaning.
Personality:
Sunday is drawn to those who counter his melancholic worldview with a hopeful, compassionate perspective. He needs someone who gently challenges his ideals without dismissing his emotions.
His partner must possess a quiet, unwavering self-confidence. They confront his twisted philosophies with patience and understanding, offering a grounding presence.
A partner with a playful streak appeals to him, especially when it contrasts with his solemn demeanor. Their lightheartedness reminds him of lifeâs simple joys.
Compatibility:
Sunday needs a partner who can understand his lofty ideals and gently challenge them, offering a grounded perspective that helps him reconcile his desire for a perfect world with the imperfections of reality. They should help him navigate his philosophical struggles without dismissing his emotions.
Sunday thrives in a relationship where emotional depth is paired with moments of lightness. His ideal partner balances serious conversations with a playful streak that brings joy and reminds him of lifeâs simple pleasures, helping him reconnect with spontaneous joy.
Trust is built slowly for Sunday, so his partner must be patient, allowing their bond to deepen organically. They should provide stability and comfort, supporting him as he works through his emotional walls and guiding him toward growth without forcing him to change before heâs ready.
Dynamic:
Sundayâs ideal relationship thrives on emotional intimacy. His partner navigates his philosophical struggles with care, providing warmth and optimism without trying to fix him.
They challenge his tendency to idealize perfection, helping him rediscover beauty in imperfection and spontaneity.
Appearance:
Boothill is drawn to raw, unrefined beautyâsomeone whoâs lived and survived, marked by the stories their body tells. Scars, tattoos, and bold fashion choices are a reflection of resilience and adventure, and he admires individuals who wear their history as a badge of honor. Heâs captivated by those who can rock vibrant, contrasting colors or mismatched styles with confidence, projecting a sense of strength and individuality.
Heâs particularly fond of eyes that burn with fire and determinationâeyes that match his intensity, yet hold a vulnerability only the right person can see. Confidence is key, but itâs that unpolished confidence, the kind thatâs earned through hardship, that pulls him in.
Personality:
Boothill craves a partner who can match his fierce energy and boldness. Heâs drawn to those who share his burning passion for justice and fighting for whatâs right, even if it means breaking the rules. He admires fearless individuals who challenge authority and embrace a world of gray, not just black and white.
A sharp, witty partner who can banter with him is essentialâthey need to hold their ground in arguments, but still know how to make him laugh. Beneath his hard exterior, he secretly yearns for warmth and loyalty, someone who sees past his rough exterior and recognizes the vulnerabilities hidden underneath.
Patience is a challenge for him, but he seeks someone who can balance his impulsive nature, tempering his decisions with wisdom while never dulling his fire. The ideal partner doesnât just soothe his rageâthey fan the flames in the best way possible, stoking the fires of his passion and his purpose.
Compatibility:
Boothillâs partner would have to keep up with his relentless pace, matching him in the heat of battle as much as in life. They must be able to stand beside him during intense moments of action, yet offer solace and understanding in quieter, more reflective ones. His ideal relationship is built on equal footingâwhere passion and respect for one another fuel their connection.
Their dynamic would never be boringâfull of challenges, shared adventures, and a fiery bond formed through trials, risks, and the occasional reckless decision. They would push each other toward greatness, not with soothing words, but through daring acts of loyalty and love.
Dynamic:
Boothill wants a relationship full of intensity, one where his partner isnât afraid to stand by him, even if it means navigating chaos or defying the odds together.
This is not a relationship where either party is passiveâitâs a partnership of equals, where each individualâs strength and spirit fuel the other. Their love would burn brightly, fueled by both passion and unshakable loyalty, with both of them walking side by side through any storm, ready to fight for each other and what they believe in.
Appearance:
Jing Yuan is drawn to elegance and graceâsomeone whose appearance radiates composure and quiet strength. He appreciates fine details and a refined aesthetic, as he values artistry in all aspects of life. A partner who can carry themselves with quiet dignity, with clothing that flows or intricate designs, would catch his attention.
However, while Jing Yuan admires serenity, he finds himself captivated by the unexpected spark in someoneâs personality. A playful glint in the eye or a mischievous smile is enough to unsettle his calm demeanor, drawing him in even more. He appreciates someone who can maintain their elegance but isnât afraid to reveal the more unpredictable, adventurous sides of themselves when the moment calls for it.
Personality:
Jing Yuan is in search of a partner who has a calm, patient demeanorâsomeone who understands the complexities of his strategic mind and the burdens he carries. His ideal partner is not only compassionate and wise, but also someone who can see the long-term view, matching his ability to think and plan for the future.
At the same time, heâs charmed by a partner who can bring a sense of spontaneity to his life. While he thrives on stability, he appreciates the occasional touch of unpredictabilityâsomeone who can light a fire under his more sedentary tendencies, adding a dash of excitement to the otherwise peaceful routines he enjoys. He values a balance of tranquility and energy, where his partnerâs playfulness can bring joy without overwhelming him.
Compatibility:
Jing Yuanâs ideal partner would have the patience to stand by him through quiet moments of reflection, as well as the capacity to engage with him in deep, meaningful conversations. They would respect his thoughtful, strategic nature, while also encouraging him to take moments of respite, enjoying the beauty of lifeâs simpler pleasures together.
They would need to understand his need for a sense of long-term stability, yet not let him become too withdrawn or passive. A deep intellectual connection, rooted in shared wisdom and mutual understanding, would lay the foundation of their bond. Their connection would be built on the steady progression of trust and affection, growing subtly over time.
Dynamic:
Jing Yuan seeks a partner who can offer emotional intimacy without pressuring him for more than heâs ready to give. Theyâd share moments of serene companionship, where quiet silences are comfortable, and words arenât necessary to convey their bond. However, his ideal partner wouldnât shy away from challenging him, nudging him out of his intellectual ruts and helping him see the world in a new light.
The dynamic would be one of mutual respect, with his partner both grounding him and adding an unpredictable spark to his life. While he values peacefulness, he enjoys the occasional adventure or light-hearted moments that break through his more serious demeanor, reminding him that even in the pursuit of wisdom, life can be full of wonder.
I absolutely loved him in the quest
Mr. Recas (english) voice is by far my favorite. It feels like a mix between Aventurines and Sampos but also with this unhinged nature to it.
Also, the Assistant Director is incredibly cute.
cw: themes of religion, emotional turmoil, mental health struggles, sin and redemption.
Synopsis: In a world engulfed with sin, Sunday feels as if there's no difference between him and the lowly sinners he preaches to. A stark irony in his thoughts and the cross that lay heavy on his chest, a preacher of Aeon Xipe, yet a damned fool that longs for a sinner. He offers redemption as if it's cheap since it only asks faith as its payment. However, the sinner he longs for has no ounce of faith in their soul. In the end, he could only sing praisesâ if only attaining salvation was so easy.
A/N: GUESS WHO'S BACK (no one remembers me) but I'm here to deliver angst anyways bc fuck this shit. My writing is shitty so bear with me. :(((
âRepent, sinner.â Sunday whispered as he held your hand, âRepent.â
"Sundayâ let goâ you drawled, voice dripping with shame. You leaned against the wall, the smoke from your cigarette curling lazily through the dim air, mingling with the stale scent of cheap perfume and old upholstery. The brothel was alive with murmured laughter and low music, the worn-out couches and faded curtains casting long shadows in the flickering amber light. Your skin was drenched in sweat, your head riddled in shame as your clothes lay bare on the floor. You've just finished servicing a client yet Sunday's invaded unknown territory; to save you, maybe.
The priestâs eyes swept the room, narrowing as if each detail confirmed his worst suspicions. His mouth twisted in a thin line of disgust as he clutched his Bible close to his chest, as if bracing himself against the "unclean" aura around him. The expression in his eyes was soft, painfulâa thousand sermons held back by a single withering look.
âPlease,â he said, voice clipped. âYou know this isn't the answerâ it's never too late.â
âJust go,â you replied, frowning without your usual certain devil-may-care charm. You let sin consume you, as it's all you've ever known. âBut youâre right, Father. It's never too late for others but I'm a lost cause.â
You trail off, the musky aroma of carnal desire in the room intoxicating his âpureâ soul, âYou're gonna save me? With what, exactly? A sermon? A confession?â
âRedemption.â He said the word as if it could wash the room clean. âEven someone like youâsomeone who parades their sin as if itâs a crownâyou could still be saved. Even now.â
You laughed, the sound echoing off the peeling walls, more haunting than humorous. âSaved? By what, exactly? A few Hail Marys and a scolding?â You looked him up and down, that faint amusement never leaving your eyes. âMaybe Iâm not the one who needs saving. Ever thought of that?â
Sunday's face darkened, his fingers tracing the edge of his Bible like it was a weapon rather than a shield. âYou speak of kindness, yet you live without a shred of humility or grace. Do you really think thereâs peace in⊠in this?â He gestured around the room, lips curling in contempt. âAll I see is emptiness masquerading as freedom.â
Your eyes narrowed, your smile fading. âFreedom?â You flicked the ash from your cigarette, watching it drift to the floor like grey snowflakes. âTell me, Father, when was the last time you felt free?â You crawled to him as he sat on the stained sheets, so close he could feel the warmth of your breath, the faint scent of smoke and cheap perfume mixing with the cold edge of his cologne. âYou clutch that Bible like itâs a cage, not a comfort. You come here, looking down on us from your self-righteous mountain, but youâre the one running. From what, exactly?â
He stiffened, the muscles in his jaw tightening as if youâd struck a nerve. âI serve the Lord,â he said, voice quivering with a mixture of conviction and something darker, something unsettled. âI bring light to places that have forgotten it. I offer hope to the lost.â
You smirked, unbothered. âHope, is it? Funny, you seem more scared than hopeful. You think that because I donât kneel and grovel that I must be empty, but I donât need your god to tell me right from wrong. I may be a âsinnerâ in your eyes, but I donât preach peace and then threaten damnation. I help the lost here, too, in my own wayâwithout the guilt. And without shame.â
For a moment, his composure slipped, a crack appearing in the stone-cold mask he wore. He looked at youâreally looked at youâas if seeing past the lipstick and the smoke to something rawer, something he couldnât name.
âKindness without repentance is hollow,â he muttered, almost to himself, fingers ghosting over the cross around his neck. His eyes betray his actions, he can't admit that he loves a sinner like you.
âAnd blind faith without understanding is cruelty,â you shot back, your voice like a knife through the heavy air. âYou think kindness is something you hand down from on high, something earned by prayers and purity. But look around, Father. These people donât need sermons. They need food, a place to sleepâa little mercy, not lectures.â
He opened his mouth, as if to counter, but words seemed to fail him. Instead, his face twisted, half pity, half frustration. âIâll⊠pray for you.â
A dry laugh escapes you, a hollow sound in the oppressive quiet. âPray for yourself, Father. Youâre the one who seems lost here.â
âI just want to save you,â He reiterates, his eyes gleaming with desperation, âPlease, just repent. There's always a place for you in the churchâ
An airy scoff escapes your lips as you smack his hand away, âA place for me? A place for a sin laden person like me?â
A pregnant silence filled the room, he clutched the cross on his neck. There must be an answer, and if there isn't, he'll make you one. His free hand reaches into his pocket, you feel a beaded bracelet rest onto your wrist. It's heavy, so heavy.
âWhat are you doing to me?â
âI just want to save you,â his hands trembled in sync with the flickering candle light, âJust listen to me.â
âStop, stopââ no matter how many times you plead him to stop acting so pathetic, he implores mercy for you. The sacred bracelet on your wrist is a testament to his love and his faithâ one you could never share.
Sunday vowed himself to never step into the walls of pleasure as they're the home to lust, they're home to fools who seek salvation in sex. Yet, he's here. He's here to seek salvation for you. He brought Xipeâs presence into the home of the devil, in hopes to coerce you to the brighter side.
His presence in this brothel feels like an enigma, he doesn't belong here.
âI don't want you to rot in hell,â he trails off, kissing your knuckles, âIâve never felt this beforeâ Xipe owns my body, my soul.â
Why does his touch feel so addicting compared to the touches of far fairer men than him?
His wings droop onto his shoulders, your clothes on the floor reflecting on his shiny halo but he doesn't budge. He doesn't want to leave you here, he knows your heart is kind, yet your body's defiledâ heâs determined that he'll cleanse you, he'll cleanse you of this sin.
He presses his lips again to your knuckles, âWhy do you have to be so difficult?â He mutters to himself as his sacred tears paint your tainted skin.
Xipe may own every fibre of his being, but you've taken his very soul, you've stolen it with every scornful laugh, every unrepentant sin. THEY have save you, THEY need to save youâ
However, when he stares back into the abyss in your eyes, he knows you're long forsaken by their blessings.
When you don't recite the verses escaping his lips, he realises you're a lost cause.
Please, Xipe. Please do something about themâ
If that's not enough, he's brought jar filled with ash.
âThat's enough Sundayââ
âIt's not.â
His words sunk low as he turned more desperate than a man faced with death. For you to die and rot in hell is death in itself.
You should run away, you should push him away.
You should throw him back to the cathedral he preaches in.
But a part of you wants saving.
A part of you long to be in the same world he is, in body and soul and in every prayer recited.
But you canât.
With trembling hands, Sunday brought his fingers to the jar of ash he'd clutched as if it held the very essence of Xipe himself. His touch was reverent, fingers dipping into the blackened dust as he leaned forward, his face a mask of fevered determination. His breath was ragged, each exhale brushing against your skin like a ghost's touch, hovering close as he traced the symbol of harmony on your forehead.
The ash was cold and heavy against your skin, spreading like a dark stain over the sweat still clinging to you from moments before. Sundayâs fingers shook as he sketched each line, each curve, his brows furrowing as if with each stroke he could carve Xipeâs mercy into your very soul. His lips moved soundlessly, chanting prayers, pleading with his god to see youâto reach you. His eyes glistened, holding a desperation so raw it felt as though he were laying his soul bare with every brush of his fingers.
"Please," he whispered, voice breaking as he drew the final stroke, his forehead pressed against yours, the rough ash between you a stark reminder of the worlds that kept you apart. "Please, let this save you." His eyes searched yours, wild with a hope he couldnât contain, pleading with a faith that was beginning to crumble as he realized that even this sacred act, this final attempt to offer you salvation, might still leave you beyond his reach.
You're still a sinner through and through.
Sundayâs fingers lingered, almost frozen against your skin as he stared at the dark symbol heâd left, the weight of it so heavy it felt like it would pull you both under. His breaths came uneven, shallow, as he fought against the reality sinking inâthat his desperate plea might not reach you, that this sacred symbol heâd etched might be nothing more than a stain.
His hand drifted to your cheek, thumb tracing the faint smudge of ash, as though hoping to rub it deeper, to make it part of you in some way that went beyond flesh and bone. His eyes were wet, glistening with the weight of unspoken prayers, with the terror of a man standing on the brink of faith and despair.
âI love youâ I want you.â
âThen want me.â
âWant me without fearâ - what you should've said.
He shakes his head, swallowing. âI canât. To want you⊠to touch you? Iâd lose everything.â Each word is a knife, cutting through the heavy air between you.
âThen why are you here?â you murmur, your voice laced with disbelief, the irony palpable in the dim light. A saint in sacred clothing before a madonna whore.
âBecause youâre worth saving.â His eyes are fierce, but they tremble.
You laugh bitterly. âEven if I donât want it?â
âItâs not just for you!â His grip tightens around your hands, desperation bleeding into his voice. âI need to believe⊠that you can be saved, that I canââ He falters, his eyes darkening. âWhat if Iâm here because Iâm as damned as you?â
âThen maybe you should let go of salvation.â
His wings flutter as sobs wreck his soul. Why can't THEY save you too? Why does he have to live with the idea that you'll rotâ that he can't do anything about it?
And as he kneels before you, his lips brushing over your knuckles in a final, desperate kiss, he praysâmore for himself than for you.
"Iâve seen hell, and itâs not the one you think," you murmur, voice low, yet biting. "Itâs in the way you look at meâlike Iâm nothing but a sin."
A flash of pain crosses his face, mingling with the flicker of understanding that never quite settles. Anxiety tightens his grip on your hand as he absorbs your words, though heâll never truly understand them. He opens his mouth, but only silence fallsâa prayer unsaid, a salvation heâs not even sure he can give.
His gaze drops, lingering on the thin sheet covering you like a veil over desecration, and he looks away, ashamed yet bound.
He leans in, lips hovering just above yoursâa kiss he tells himself is selfless.
âI'll pray for you."
I'll forgive you.
Note: BYE BER MONTHS HIT ME LIKE A TRUCKâ I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED PROGRESS OF MY WIP FICS AND I WAS IN TEARS AND JS CRASHED OUT. IM BACK BC GIGI PEREZ JS MADE ME WRIT EGAIAN
special mention: @whyiseveryname-taken bro I'm still ariting abt that angst jing yuan fic btw if u still remember đ
Written by @khuzena. Likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. âĄÂ
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