#spooky jam

"The thing that makes him most nervous is the spike of Interest the first time he meets with Nie Huaisang after gaining his unwanted companion. He's been interested in Nie-xiong since they first met, but this is different. Predatory. Like a cat eyeing up a bird. He's getting ideas in his head he never would have considered before and he doesn't know how to feel about it."

The last... hours?... days?... have been a fog.

He's had problems with headaches for as long as he can remember; times where he could barely open his eyes without feeling like someone was trying to shove their thumb in his eye, or the miserable squeezing pressure that always let him know when a storm was approaching... nevermind the throbbing of bruises or possible concussions and the unconscious clenching of his jaw compounding the underlying aches.

This is different, though. This pain pushes and pulls behind his eyes, leaking out and then swelling back up as if something is trying to decide whether it wants to invade his head or escape it.

He's sure it has to do with his unnerving passenger, but with no way to get an answer, or even ask the question, that remains a guess.

At least Yao-ge has been somewhat sympathetic; they can't take the risk of him showing up at the infirmary for anything more than basic injury treatment and he can't stop assisting with the demonic cultivation studies entirely without both of them incurring the demanding rage of their father, but Yao-ge has been quietly passing him pain medication and keeps his workload to a minimum.

But the fog is getting thicker. His thoughts are struggling harder to form. He genuinely can't remember the last time he's slept, and he's so tired-

Contact against his forehead makes him jump and recoil with a startled hiss, only for his defensiveness to turn to guilt when his swimming vision clears and he finds it's Nie-xiong leaning down in front of him, eyes wide and hand raised in a clear fever-checking gesture.

"There you are," Nie-xiong says, concerned tone unmistakable. "I called your name a few times, but you just kept staring at the floor."

"'m sorry," Mo Xuanyu mumbles automatically, then shivers when the back of the other man's hand rests on his forehead again, gentle and warm.

Something ripples through his brain from that point of contact, and it doesn't feel like a fever-checking. Doesn't feel like it's coming from Nie-xiong at all, actually, like it's something already...

Something already...

It takes him too long to realize Nie-xiong is speaking to him again, and when he blinks slowly at the other man, Nie-xiong's expression is even more worried.

For him.

Worried for him.

Pretty, sweet Nie-xiong worries for him.

Slowly, almost as if the air has turned to honey and he is trying to swim through it, he reaches up and takes hold of that graceful hand, staring at it.

There is a gold bracelet around Nie-xiong's wrist.

For a moment, a chain attached to it flickers into view.

Wait... what?

Mo Xuanyu blinks several times, but the chain never reappears. Why... had he...?

"I think we should get you back to your room, Yu-er. You clearly need rest at the very least."

"I... I haven't been sleeping well," he admits, the words feeling strange and goopy in his mouth, like whenever he had a cold and had to cough up stuff.

"Tell me again why we're doing this?" Nie Mingjue grumbled as he leaned on a fencepost. "What even is the point? We hunt actual ghosts and monsters for a living."

"Because Huan-ge has never been to one and wants the experience," Meng Yao said, idly checking his email on his phone. "And none of us can say no to him."

"You least of all," Nie Huaisang added with a smirk as he poked his brother in the side with the paper fan that was part of his costume.

Mingjue muttered something under his breath that probably involved a few creative curse words, then folded his arms and looked away, face red.

Huaisang and Meng Yao glanced sidelong at each other, then both had to bite their tongues to keep from snickering. It really was too easy to pick on Da-ge about his helplessness in the face of his boyfriend's enthusiasm.

Though... now that they thought of it...

Huaisang took out his phone and checked for any new texts, as did Meng Yao.

Nothing.

"Da-ge, have you heard from him yet?"

"It's not like him at all to be this la-"

"Sorry!" Lan Huan's voice called from the entrance to the haunted house grounds before Meng Yao could finish or Mingjue could answer. "Something came up at the school that needed approval, and A-Zhan had already left."

None of the three ghost hunters already waiting could help their amusement. They'd all seen just how much Lan Zhan was tying himself in knots over tonight, given it was both his husband's birthday and the anniversary of their engagement.

"It's fine," Nie Mingjue said, holding out Lan Huan's ticket. "They're going to be open all night so we've got plenty o-"

A chaotic chorus of screams suddenly exploded from the house. Given they'd been waiting around for a little over an hour, they could tell that the flood of people bolting from every possible exit -doors and windows both- weren't acting according to the schedule.

Especially since some of them were clearly the house's actors.

"What th-"

Fog erupted from the windows in the shapes of snarling packs of dogs, but they didn't run far before swirling up the sides of the house to coalesce into a shrieking ghost.

"Oh." They all turned their heads in Lan Huan's direction to see his expression of excitement quickly fall into a mix of concern and disappointment. "That one's real, isn't it?"

Mingjue pressed his mouth into a thin line.

Meng Yao and Huaisang looked at each other and shook their heads.

Then all three silently drew their weapons -or in Huaisang's case, his talisman beads- from the between spaces in their clothing.

You're welcome :))

Thank you for your work, Biscuit. I am deeply on love with ur writing <3

Aww, thank you! I apologize that this is still incomplete, but I wanted to go ahead and post this part so that you wouldn't be left hanging. Hopefully I'll have the rest done within this weekend or so!

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

For all his cousins and his brother's friends thought otherwise -for all he wanted them to think otherwise- Nie Huaisang was not an idiot. He was deeply, frustratingly aware of how many of the divine protections his brother had that he lacked, and how easily injured he was without them, and thus never let himself get so engrossed in the subjects of his tracking that he forgot his surroundings.

So, naturally, when he had noticed the oddly unnatural way the stream in his path shimmered, he had gone looking for a tree or some other sort of bridge to cross rather than attempting to ford the shallow water himself, as anyone with sense would do.

It should have been fine.

It would have been fine, had the water not suddenly turned a deep flaming red and apparently acted with a mind of its own, slashing the tree to splintered pieces before he could make it all the way across.

It slithered over the chunks of wood collapsing beneath him and up his body, sticky and heavy as honey, and muffled his scream as it dragged him down far deeper than the stream should have been. Struggling only made it cling more, forcibly squeezing the air out of him through his nose and making him unable to get any back.

The last thing he remembered before he lost consciousness was the feeling of something like claws sinking into the wrist of his desperately outstretched hand.

---

Awareness came back to him slowly, with the cold being the first thing that registered. Shuddering, he tried to curl himself into a ball to salvage some warmth, but found his limbs didn't want to respond.

Before he could start to work up a panic, a large hand rested on the back of his neck and the numbness in his arms and legs vanished.

"Apologies," said a smooth, rich, unfamiliar voice. "But precautions had to be taken. You were quite delirious when you arrived."

Arrived… where?

The hand moved away and he slowly tried to sit up, even that little bit of motion making him dizzy at first. When his vision settled back into focus, he found that he was in what would have resembled a sickroom, had it not been for the carved red stone tables in place of cots.

One of which he'd been lying on, which both explained the cold and brought up so many new questions.

The hand returned to sweep his hair out of his face and he reflexively turned his head to follow it, his breath catching in his throat when he saw his host.

The man was… pleasant to look at, to put it mildly, but what had made Huaisang freeze was the sight of the crown that held his hair back.

The first set of magical items any child learned about was the Rising Moon and Setting Sun, crowns belonging to two of the most powerful deities in the pantheon.

"A second apology must be made as well," said Wen Ruohan, Bearer of the Setting Sun and Lord of the Afterlife Realms said with a smile that somehow came off as both kind and extremely unsettling at the same time… the latter possibly because of the fact that Huaisang was now nervously aware of just how much power was radiating from him.

"A… A second apology?" he asked, managing to keep his voice from squeaking.

"For an unfortunate mistake, you see. The creature that accosted you was an experiment being conducted by one of my sons and my niece. One that was not permitted to reach the world of the living."

Huaisang swallowed hard, unsure which sounded worse; the idea of a thing like that having managed to escape the underworld, or the tone of Wen Ruohan's voice on that last sentence. Even if their creation had almost killed him, he found himself feeling a little sorry for the son and the niece for whatever their punishment might have been. "But… I'm not dead… am I?"

Amusement flickered across the god's expression. "You are not," he agreed. "However, you are not ready to be returned to the middle realm yet. There is still some way to go before you have fully recovered."

"How long has it been already?"

"Three days."

Three days… three days wasn't bad. He'd only left home one day before that, and his brother was aware -didn't approve, but was aware- that his bird-tracking trips could take as long as two weeks. So he still had some time to finish getting better before his not coming home would be noticed.

Some Analog horror inspired setup. I don't know if you know about "the boy and the camera" , but IF you do I would like a (child) meng Yao following a (child) huaisang after seeing him following some weird looking thing that may be a yao or a doll through his window in the night.

I do know that one! I'm not sure this is exactly what you meant, but I hope it's enjoyable anyway.

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Honestly, the first thing Meng Yao noticed about the boy already living in the practically-ancient roadside inn he and Auntie Sisi had ended up in was the camera in his hands.

He remembered when the advertisements had first come out, how it was the model that could hold the most pictures of any on the market, ideal for bringing the world to his mother while she was stuck in the hospital.

Despite all his efforts, he hadn't been able to earn enough for one before she'd slipped into a coma, the doctors unsure whether or not she would ever recover enough to wake.

And now here one was, in the hands of the youngest child of the family that owned the inn.

Jealousy and a feeling of unfairness sat bitter in the back of his throat, but just as he was about to turn away to prevent that acidic taste from becoming equally acidic words, hands smaller than his own offered up the device that was the source of his twisted feelings.

"Here! You can use it, if you want!"

Caught off guard, he simply stared back at the other boy for what seemed like ages before managing to cough out a "What?"

"Huaisang, stop saying stupid things," an older boy, likely a brother, said from across the dining hall where he was doing homework.

"It's not stupid!" 'Huaisang' yelled back, then stuck his tongue out at his brother before he turned back to Meng Yao. "I heard Mama say you and your Aunt are gonna be staying here a long, long time. So we should be friends! And friends share!"

And he was sharing the first thing he had on hand.

Without even realizing it just happened to be something Meng Yao had spent months desperately wanting.

This had to be the universe making fun of him somehow.

And yet he found himself numbly reaching out to accept the camera. "Thank... you...?"

'Huaisang' beamed, then grabbed his free hand. "C'mon, I'll show you how to print pictures!"

---

It had been almost a year since he and Sisi had moved in. His aunt had struck a deal with the Nies to help the cleaning staff in return for their room being free, and they had even thrown in meals and a small spending stipend, his part of which mostly went towards all the ink and paper he used to build photo scrapbooks for his mother.

She would wake up. She would. And then he would have so much to show her!

This is another one that would probably spawn into a very long fic, so it also gets a concept post.

At first, it seems like mere clumsiness on the part of the Recesses residents. Then, there are accusations of mischief, especially aimed at Wei Wuxian. But eventually, it becomes apparent that somehow, a ghost has managed to get past the barrier surrounding the sect grounds.

And it also becomes apparent that it's too feisty for even Wei Wuxian to capture.

It takes well over a dozen tries of him and Lan Wangji working in tandem, but they finally manage, through a kludged together mix of cultivation techniques, to calm it down enough to at least find out its identity.

When they get a name, Wei Wuxian almost passes out.

There are a hundred questions that Mo Xuanyu is adamantly refusing to answer. Like why he's still around, when his revenge was fulfilled. How he's still around, when the ritual should have destroyed him.

Lan Wangji effectively drags Nie Huaisang to the Cloud Recesses, thinking perhaps Mo Xuanyu's spirit is actually wanting revenge on the one who forced him into the ritual and is merely confused about where he is, but that theory is immediately shot down because the ghost is completely peaceful, even friendly to Nie Huaisang.

And yet remains in the Cloud Recesses when he leaves with a promise to visit (though neither of Wangxian are comfortable with him doing so, they have to admit that until they can get Mo Xuanyu to leave of his own accord, they'll have to allow it.)

Huaisang's visit makes Mo Xuanyu much less violent in his haunting, but Xuanyu still makes it very clear whenever he's present... Until suddenly he doesn't.

This can't be good.

While they initially hope that maybe he's cleared out and gone to stay in Qinghe after all, they have to make sure, and begin checking every building of the Recesses.

It's not until they're practically finished that they think to check Lan Xichen's home. After all, what business could a dead ghost have with a living ghost?

Still, best to be thorough.

As they reach the front door, they hear the quiet sound of a qin.

It's playing Inquiry.

But instead of the stubborn argument that had occurred when they'd tried to get answers out of the ghost, the music is...

Either one of the Nie Moms as ghosts?

A part of Nie Linsong's heart always prickled with guilt whenever she got the opportunity to look in on the boys.

It wasn't fair that Nie Leiyun had never been able to come on one of these visits; that her wife could only subsist on the stories and descriptions she brought back with her to the realm of the dead.

After all, she had gotten eight years with Mingjue and two years with Huaisang- Leiyun had never gotten to meet Huaisang at all before death had taken her.

The guilt made her greedy, taking in anything and everything she possibly could and committing it to memory as vividly as possible so that there would be more to give her wife.

But this time-

-this time-

-she desperately wished that she could see less and do more.

Their husband's body was, in her vision, wreathed in red flames that made sickening twisted shapes of corpses on the floor around him as he stood hunched over, an enraged, animalistic expression of rage on his face and the sturdy, calloused hands she'd always been fond of wrapped around around the throat of their younger son with crushing pressure.

Little Huaisang couldn't even scream with the force on his windpipe, and any moment, his equally fragile spine could-

-forcing herself to tear away from the horrible sight, she streaked from hall to hall, aiming for the bright spark that was their older son.

"Jue-er!" she screamed the moment she saw him, putting all the spiritual force she had in her body into her voice. "Your father's room! He's killing your brother!"

Nie Mingjue jerked, looking around in confusion. "Is someone-?"

"No time! Go! Save your brother!"

Fortunately, that was enough to get him moving, running towards Nie Haoran's room with his mother's spirit right on his heels.

She could only hope that they would be in time; that Mingjue's mad dash across the sect grounds would attract enough help.