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court-of-forever-undone · 3 years ago

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I Knew You’d Come Back to Me

Chapter Two: Slept next to her, but I dreamt of you (Cardan’s POV)

Summary: While homesick and heartbroken in the mortal world, Jude finds a pile of letters on her doorstep that include an official pardon and a love confession from Cardan. What is supposed to be a happy reunion quickly falls apart when Jude is told Cardan has returned to Nicasia in her absence.

Cardan is determined to make it up to Jude.

**This fic is inspired by the love story between Taylor Swift’s characters Betty, James, and August.**

Should you wish to listen: Cardigan | Betty | August

Tags: Multiple POVs, angst and a happy ending, Jurdan, post-wicked king, canon divergence

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Four Months Post Exile

If she has decided that she wishes to stay away and forget about Elfhame, me, then I will forget about her as well. Except that I can’t because for the eternity she has been gone there has been nothing to rid my thoughts of her.

I grab the nearest pitcher of wine, not that they are ever far from my reach as of late, and swallow as much of the tart liquid as I can. At least if I pass out there is a chance I may dream of her, or dream of losing her. But it is a chance I am willing to take.

There is a revel happening, for a reason I cannot remember. Probably honoring some guest that I cannot be bothered to care about at this point. I tend to the kingdom as best as I can for the day, but by the time the dawn is rising I do everything I can to forget the subtle human features that haunt me. The curve of her ear, the flush in her cheeks, the softness of her form.

Since she has been gone there has been an unbearable ache in my chest that only seems to worsen at her memory. I’ve taken back up with a variety of powders that I grew accustomed to at Balekin’s parties. The numbing sensation is highly preferable to the agonizing dread that awaits me in sobriety. At least when time passes differently, I can imagine that she is home again, or at the very least, I can pass more days until she returns.

Her return seems more and more uncertain because despite my letters, she has not come home, nor even responded to them. She has made no inclination that she intends to return, which is ridiculous because she is the queen. When she returns I will have to remember to remind her of all the accusations she threw my way at neglecting responsibilities, meanwhile she has spent months in the mortal world as if waiting for me to come bring her home myself.

I grin at the idea. A trip to the mortal world could quickly end this ridiculous torture. At least I would have the chance to see her in the flesh.

She could get her anger out and then return home with me. At this point, a curse from her lips would sound like music and her fingers curled around my neck would be ecstasy.

In time, that anger might turn to forgiveness and we can all move on from this nonsense.

Present Day

What a dreadful day today has been. I should have returned to my chambers the moment I was given news of a wine shortage because poisoned wine had been found in the castle’s cellars, because that meant I had to suffer through the small council’s bickering mostly sober, followed by hours of grievance hearings from folk. For a kingdom full of people who find me utterly incompetent, they sure do make plenty of pleas to the crown.

Only one hour remains until I can leave the presence of my court and scout for my own wine to drink, poisoned or otherwise.

“Cardan…?” Nicasia said with the air of a question.

I respond with a non-committal sound before glancing in her direction to my left. Again, she had found a seat nearest mine, despite my repeated reminder that she was no longer entitled to that spot. We were nothing beyond friends with a bit of history, even if my entire council, mother, and Nicasia herself thought it was ridiculous to prolong a “land-sea” alliance any longer.

I turn back to the conversation I had been ignoring and make an appropriate response, before quickly tuning them out again. Courtiers have nothing better to do than waste my time.

Admittedly, I could see my advisors’ point and I haven’t exactly fought to deny Nicasia’s advances anymore. Not when the one I want has rejected me entirely, favoring a mortal over me and forsaking our kingdom to my inadequate rule.

If I were a kinder soul, I might have been content to see her happy and adjusted to the mortal world, but I am not. I hate myself for sending her away and I hate her just as much for not wanting to return. Every time someone suggests I marry, I want to scream the truth for the entire kingdom to hear.

I married the mortal Jude Duarte. I did it so she would release her hold over me, but I also did it because I wanted to. I wanted to make her my queen and share this dreaded life with her; the powerful, defiant, occasionally murderous, human woman with all her soft features and perfectly odd ears.

Pride be damned. If she returned, I’d allow her anything. She would never need a geas to command me. She was already a ruler, she deserved the credit. The court would eventually adjust to the idea of a human ruler once they recognized her rule. I would lead the most devoted of her court and in our bedroom, I would further prove to her just how devoted I was by spreading --

Nicasia’s hand sliding over my knee snaps me from my thoughts. The touch of her hand felt sickly wrong considering my thoughts of Jude. I brush her hand aside and purposefully ignore the hurt look on her face. I may allow her into my room on nights where even the wine and the powders cannot bring me peace, but she knows I am far too sober and there are too many people around for that.

At the edge of my peripheral I see a dark shadow approaching. The Roach; always a welcomed distraction usually armed with wonderfully bad news.

“Come to tell me of another attempt on my life?” I murmur as he bows down to whisper in my ear.

“You are needed at once, your majesty” the goblin reports.

At that, I laugh but make no effort to move. “There is a first for everything. What is it?” I am happy to use whatever matter it is as an excuse to leave, but I am curious what requires my attention that the spies could not handle themselves.

“Jude has returned. She is waiting to see you.”

His words hit like the hilt of a sword to the chest. I stand, jumping the courtier closest to me.

“I have matters to attend to. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” I say to no one in particular, trying to ignore the loud pounding in my ears as my heart threatens to beat out of my chest.

I begin to follow the Roach out of the room when I feel a hand on my arm.

“What is going on?” Nicasia asks, her eyes wide. I shake out of her grasp.

“It is a matter of great importance that does not concern you.” Instead of moving away, like my body demands to, I move in closer to her so only she can hear me. “I meant my words in the gardens. Do not show up this evening or any evening again.”

Her mouth fell slightly open as water rimmed her eyes. I didn't stay for her response, instead I turned back and followed the Roach into the tunnel, knowing every step was bringing me closer to Jude. As we stalk through the hallways, I cannot slow the questions bombarding my mind.

Did she decide against her life in the mortal world? Did she miss me as I have missed her? What should I say to her? Will she allow me to embrace her? Should I announce her return tonight?

I have envisioned dozens of scenarios of what I would say or do when she returned, but now that she is only a few steps away I have no plan past seeing her, holding her if I can, to make sure she is real and not my imagination come to life.

We take the final turn that I know leads to the headquarters for the Court of Shadows when Livier blocks the doorway.

“Where is she?”

I watch as her face contorts. She opens her mouth to respond before closing it again, clearly unsure how to answer. I don’t have patience for this. I have to see her now.

“Move Livier,” I demand.

How many months has it been since we had fallen asleep together after our vows? How long has it been that I’ve felt her pressed against me?

“Cardan, wait!” She exclaims as I try to move past her. “She doesn’t want to see you.”

I stop dead at her words.

Before I can speak, the Roach asks for me, “What do you mean? She sent us to get him.”

The pixie nods. “Yes. She went to the royal chambers, but she returned soon after and has stated she does not wish to speak.”

I cannot help the bite to my words. “To speak to anyone, or just me?”

Her silence gives me my answer. “Why?” I spit out.

She is on the other side of the wall. It has been months, what about my room could have made her decide against seeing me? A darker thought crosses my mind; what if she has decided to return to the mortal world again? The idea threatens to break me then and there in the dark tunnels beneath the castle.

Livier looks at her companion with unease.

“Why?” I demand again.

The Bomb swallows before explaining, “When she returned, she asked how long you and the Princess of the Undersea had been back together.”

My desperation melted into cruel pitiful laughter. She was jealous of Nicasia, while she had herself a human plaything. The hypocrisy was grand. I wonder how her face would look when I asked about the man and how she could possibly blame me when she broke our vows first. My laughter quickly fizzled into a frozen anger.

I needed to leave before the weight of the situation could bear down on me. In all my imaginations, I never predicted this. I had hoped she’d run to my arms or more realistically, slap me followed up with a kiss. But never returning and refusing to see me.

I want to beg to see her. Beg for her forgiveness. Beg her to stay even if she hates me.

As a king, I have every right to go wherever I please. But as a queen, she has the right to deny entry to anyone. So I turn in the tight hallway and take the turn that leads to my rooms.

She is home. She wouldn’t see me, but she is home, which meant I could fix this. She might not see me tonight, but I would win her forgiveness and maybe her love too.

****

After almost two weeks of announcements and planning, Jude’s coronation ball will begin soon. I have still yet to see her in person, but through messengers and letters she agreed to rule with me and begrudgingly accepted my proposal for a party to celebrate her return and status.

The actual coronation will not take place for another few weeks due to the time needed to gather all the court’s representatives, but this evening would be a full celebration nonetheless. She is home and that enough is cause to celebrate.

The party will also finally force Jude out of the shadows. I suspect she has moved around the castle quite a bit as I heard she met with her sisters and the Living Council, but she has made a careful effort to avoid me.

There have been several times where I have made it all the way to her door before deciding to leave and giving her the space she demands. For months now, I have had dreams of the moment we saw each other again; I have imagined her vulgar words and sweet touches. Tonight is the last night I can imagine because in a matter of hours I will see her again. For the evening, she will have no choice but to stand in the same room as me. I already announced her as my wife and Elfhame’s High Queen. After this evening, she can avoid me outside of official business, if she wishes. It would be devastating, but no more devastating than how it felt when she was gone.

I pace back and forth in my chambers thinking through all the details of the evening since I have nothing better to do. I dressed long ago in a suit twin to the dress I had sent for Jude. If I thought the last dress I designed for her was stunning, I am not sure I’ll be able to survive seeing her in tonight's creation. I gave the tailor a sketch of a silver gown with a fitted bodice and twin streams of fabric that flow from the shoulders. The hope was to create an illusion of the armor she seemed to favor. I doubt the tailor will disappoint and frankly, Jude could wear an old sack and still be devastatingly beautiful.

Before long I receive the signal to head to the ballroom. As I enter the room, I admire for the first time the servant’s efforts to fulfill my image for the evening. The decoration for a typical revel was nothing compared to the fanfare visible this evening. Long strings of lights and streamers hung from the ceiling and sweet and savory treats of all varieties are piled high on trays. The musicians and other entertainment for the evening are already in full swing keeping the guests happy and amused.

As is customary, the party has been going on for some time now, before the king and now queen enter. The center of the space is filled with revelers dancing and singing. At any other party, I would have gladly joined, but I cannot help the pooling sense of unease as I glance through the crowding looking for a particular face.

I do find the face I am looking for, but not the right person. Taryn is standing on the side of the dance floor chatting with some courtier. Locke is nowhere to be seen, which is for the best. If I notice him even causing Jude to frown this evening, I will have him locked in the dungeons for the night.

I occupy myself with some wine while I wait and use the opportunity to boast of Jude’s brilliance to anyone who decides they wish to speak with me. After about a dozen of these conversations, I finally catch a glimpse of her walking into the room with Vivianne at her side.

My Jude.

I admire her with total abandon. She is absolutely stunning. The movement of her steps causes the fabric to shimmer as it flows obscenely over her body. While I will imagine her in this dress for many nights to come, it is the crown that sits atop her head that captures my attention.

The crowd cheers at her arrival and many bow to her. While she keeps her emotions well concealed, I can see the smallest of smiles appear on her face. She enjoys the recognition. Seeing her now, if I could have given her this from the start I would have.

My heart-stopping queen.

I stay to the side where I am and watch her enjoyment from afar. She dances with her sisters from time to time and speaks to members of the gentry with ease. I know she has noted my presence, even if she has yet to look in my direction. When it is time to address the crowd, it is my turn to avoid her direction. I keep my speech to the folk short, enough to praise her and remind anyone who may be considering treason exactly who Jude Duarte is. At the final toast, I steel myself before addressing her directly.

“Welcome home, Jude.”

Our eyes meet for the briefest of moments, burning with a million unspoken words before she breaks away and turns to address the now-growing crowd around her.

It was the first time she acknowledged me since the morning I sent her away and suddenly the emotion behind that realization hits me all at once. I let my eyes linger on her turned back a moment longer, before downing my drink and disappearing into the gardens to wallow in my own self pity.

I told myself I would be happy if she just returned home, but now I realize how badly each moment I spend away from her aches. In school, I hated the way I longed for her. I had chalked it up to being a disgraceful obsession; one I would have been glad to be rid of whatever that meant for Jude. Now, I am equally obsessed with my mortal queen, but rather than having just my thoughts occupied with her, I feel a feral desperation to be near her, to set things right with her.

It is not uncommon for me to be followed, but when I hear soft steps behind me, the last person I expect to turn and see is Jude. Her brown eyes widened in surprise, as if she was not the one following me. We both stare at each other for a half a second too long, before Jude mumbles something and turns to leave. I take her by the arm before she can take a single step away. I won’t let her get away a second time.

“Ask me how hideous you look tonight,” the words tumble from my mouth before I can stop them.

She turns back to face me. I loosen my hold on her arm, but let my hand linger until she decides to brush it away.

“This again?” She asks, sounding more tired than annoyed. I didn’t realize how much I missed her voice.

Desperate to hear her again, I reply, “I can’t. You look like a knight from a story tonight.” A filthy story, perhaps.

Jude’s cheeks pinken as she shifts away from me. If I wasn’t afraid to lose her, I might have found her unease at my closeness cute.

“I’m glad to see the kingdom is still in one piece.” Jude acknowledges, changing the subject away from her. The distance between us feels infinitely greater than the foot of space physically separating us. I’d give anything to embrace her now.

“I had help,” I state simply. It is the truth. The Court of Shadows kept tabs on everyone, friends and enemies, and the Living Council for all the headaches they cause me, they did their job as well.

“Nicasia?” Jude didn’t try or simply failed to hide the accusation in the question.

I sigh heavily and take a seat on one of the garden’s benches. “Ahh that. Yes, it is about time we talked.” I motion for her to join me, to which she refuses.

“I don’t want to hear anything about the two of you. I understand we married out of political strategy, I won’t hold you to human standards of monogamy.” Jude echos my sigh, “After your letters, I thought… Well, I misunderstood the situation.”

My core twists at the way her voice trembled on the words. When did her pain stop being cruel amusement and instead became a twin knife that hurts us both?

“I meant every word in those letters” I murmured softly. How many times had I imagined this conversation before?

Anger burns across her face, “So, what? You got bored of waiting for me to return from the exile YOU-” she jams her pointer finger into my chest hard enough to bruise, “ordered! Maybe next time make sure your letters are actually delivered or perhaps don’t send me away in the first place.”

I stand, challenging her anger with my own. “You think I wouldn’t have waited? I went to bring you home. I saw you dancing with the mortal. Don’t pretend I was the first to stray.”

I expected more anger, denial perhaps, but not... confusion?

“What the hell are you talking about? I haven’t been with anyone else,” Jude yells exasperated.

“The blond male. I came to see you and…” I trail off when Jude laughs suddenly. “What could possibly be funny?”

She covers her face with her hands, shaking her head side to side, “Cardan, you saw me with a friend. Nothing ever happened between us, ever.”

Shame washes over me like a tidal wave. I had returned from that trip thinking Jude had made her decision to forget me and stay behind. I had walked straight into a revel and drank every drop of wine in sight. Nicasia found me a few hours later laying in the grass outside the castle and when she came near I did the one thing I thought would make me feel better.

Nicasia had been the first to notice me, my first real friend then lover. After Jude, I thought she could be the thing I needed again, but I was wrong. It didn’t take long for me to realize it would never be as it was before because my heart still belonged to Jude. If I had only spoken to Jude that night in the mortal world, none of this would have happened.

“I believed the reason for your continued absence was because you were still mad. I thought I could go to the mortal world and convince you to come home, but I saw you with the mortal man. I did not handle the thought of you with another well. Nicasia was there when I got back and… I let her into my bed, but it was you that I thought of every moment you were gone.”

Several emotions ripple across her face before she quickly schooled her face into the impenetrable mask she wears around others. She wears around me too. I continue before the fear of her rejection can stop me.

“There are no tricks within my words, so please hear me when I promise you, Jude, mortal High Queen of Elfhame, it is you I love. My heart is yours and forever will be. There will be no other’s, and if you choose to have me again, it will only be you.”

I raise my hand to cup her face and watch as her eyes flutter close. My name falls off her lips like a plea and I think it might be the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. I lower myself to meet her soft lips. Her hands soon find the front of my jacket and I don't fight when she tugs me closer to her.

Without breaking the kiss, I use my free hand to grip her lower back and pull her back into the garden seat with me. On my lap, Jude opens herself up to me and I greedily take in more of her, missing the taste of her. I can’t help but continue to caress her body with my fingertips, long after we break to catch our breath. I place a series of kisses along her neck, each more drawn out than the last before I speak the cruel fact still on my mind, “of all my terribleness, the worst thing I ever did was what I did to you.”

It hurts knowing I can speak those words aloud. I reach up to wipe a stray tear that has fallen from her eyes.

“Will you have me again, Jude?” My heart pounds in the wake of the question. I watch as she considers it. Truthfully, I wouldn't blame her if she refused me, but it would be torturous to have her so near and not mine.

Slowly, she gives a subtle nod and I don’t hide my sigh of relief. She stares at me for a second longer, before smiling, “I love you, Cardan."

I capture her lips again, finding her more addictive than the sweetest wine.

“My sweet nemesis, how glad I am you have returned.”

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mystic-poet · 4 years ago

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ROGUE PATHS

I wake up to find myself handcuffed to the hospital bed. The drug they injected me with to tame me seems to be wearing off. Ugh! This again. Better to get it over with, I guess. I drag my free hand into my bun and retrieve a small blade. As usual the dumb police never bothered to check in there thinking a man’s bun would just be a fashion statement. I twist to my side and turn the blade in the keyhole clockwise. My hand comes free. I learnt to pick locks when I was young, one of my many talents. I shake my hand hard to get rid of the stiffness and get up from the bed.

I stride confidently straight towards the door, not in the sneaky kind like a criminal would. As expected, a police officer stands at guard. His lips are on the verge of screaming when I silence him by waving a hundred bucks in front of his eyes. He raises his eyebrows at me and I throw in another four hundred to satisfy his thirst. That ought to shut him up. Money! The most deadly weapon and beautiful thing anyone can ever have.

□□□

Outside the hospital waits Beth. She teaches German in Crawford High. Well, it would be safe to say she taught me the art of viciousness. If angels can house demons, there isn’t any harm in a teacher being an evil mastermind.

“They shot you pretty bad in that leg, huh?” she says as I limp on one good leg. She gives me a look that was overflowing with pity. How I hate that!

“Enough with the puppy eyes already!” I snap. My right leg was hurting real bad and I would have stayed in the hospital until they mended it and made my grand escape later but I won’t want to deprive the world of its foul folks. Besides, I have business to finish.

“I must say, I didn’t expect you to be in the hospital,” Beth says unlocking her car and we sit in.

“They shot my leg in the encounter at the bank and I was losing blood by the second. Couldn’t get much out of me while I was thrashing in pain,” I explain.

“Did you find anything at the bank?” Beth asks raising an eyebrow at me as she drives the car out of the parking lot.

“I was close to. The property papers were in my hands before the cops caught up with me. Couldn’t read a word.”

“So, what are going to do? Got anything up your sleeves?”

“Well, I do. I am going to father’s house this Wednesday,” I say coolly.

“You do know that’s two days away, don’t you?”

“I have thought it through. You’ll see,” I say grinning.

Beth shakes her head. “Just remember I need my share of the money, Carl.”

“We talked about this a million times, Beth. You’ll get your forty percent,” I say casually leaning into the passenger’s seat.

□□□

My dad abandoned me when I was a teen. He is the owner of a multinational electronic company my late grandpa founded. Beth was the assistant manager. She was a frequent visitor in thehouse and shared a fine bond with dad until one day, she was fired when my dad accused her of a theft she never committed or so she told me.

When I was old enough, I tracked her down and discovered that she craved revenge with dad for all the wrongs done to her. She wanted to blow the lid off and reveal all the dark secrets behind dad’s firm. In a way, our common want of vengeance united us.

My dad is stinking rich whereas I was left in some community home and survived off donations. This is why I despise pity; I have lived with it all my life. I have my rightful place in the company and the fortune my grandpa left behind. But I need theofficial documents and my one chance of getting them from the bank slipped away. That’s where the part of infiltrating his house comes in. Ah! It’s been such long while since I did something of this kind. Infiltrating seems such a gorgeous word now.

□□□

“So, how are we doing it?” asks Beth pouring two glasses of red wine for the both of us. She drove us to her house for it’s probably the safest place to be.

“He is hosting some success party on Wednesday and there’s bound to be security. My idea is to go through as delivery persons. The rest will follow. You will tip toe to the computer room while I put up some distraction. I will catch up with you soon enough. Till then, find the papers,” I instruct taking a swig from my glass.

“It won’t be that simple, you know,” she says with a smirk.

“I was thinking you need that forty percent,” I say with mock seriousness.

“Fine!” she says exasperated. How I love when I am obeyed.

□□□

We are wheeling the cart that supposedly holds the cake but instead I just stuffed it with a wad of cotton. I ring the bell of the grand house with Beth beside me. The housekeeper, a woman in maybe in her thirties, opens the door. She gestures to where the cake should be kept. I look around at the magnificence of the place and its each and every adornment and decoration, from the mahogany coffee table to the velvet curtains and even the intricate designs on the glass vases, conveyed royalty. I feel a rush of hatred inside me. My father enjoyed all the money at his disposal and lived in comfort with rugs beneath his feet whereas I tossed and turned with unease in my bed every night wondering if my parents would ever make their way back to me. At least my mother passed away before she witnessed the return of her abandoned son.

“You know what to do,” I whisper in Beth’s ear. She nodded. I take my blade out and make a shallow cut in the back of my hand oozing out blood. That blade is indeed a good partner. I pocket it as swiftly as I took it out.

“Oh, I am bleeding. I am bleeding,” I say dramatically and hold my hand out purposefully for everyone to see the scarlet covering it.

“Oh dear, God. I will fetch you some ice from the kitchens,” the housekeeper says and disappears into a corridor. That’s the thing about kind people; they are easy prey.

I signal to Beth and she sets off in a half-walk and half-run up the stairs. She knows the way to the computer room from all those years of coming to dinners and teas in the house. As she turns into the corner, I rush behind her too wiping the blood on my pants.

I catch up with her soon enough as she looks straight ahead navigating through the rich corridor filled with a few guests. I walk behind her maintaining a safe distance; we can’t afford to attract any attention.

We walk into a long deserted hallway. I am sure the computer room is here and so does Beth, I suppose, as she carefully notices each door. She comes to an abrupt stop in front of the door at the far end of the hallway and opens it without a glance at me. In the middle of the room sits a computer that would be the cause of my dad’s doom. Beth turns it on and gets to work as I stand at the door occasionally peaking in. I was afraid it might have a password but it didn’t. Arrogance! Father must be sure no one could evade his computer. Well, I guess history is being made today.

“Do it quick!” I hiss at her.

“Does it look like I am not trying?” she says making an irritated face at me.

We are silent for five minutes or so when Beth says, “Carl, I found them!”

A smirk creeps across my face. “Transfer it to me. All of it,” I say in an excited whisper.

Beth turns back to the computer and presses send. The next few moments go by as quickly as the blink of an eye. I lock Beth in the computer room and somewhere a safety alarm triggers deafening my ears. I hear her muffled screams calling out to meechoing in the hallway but without looking back I descend the two flights of stairs.

I bump into the security on a landing and adopting my best worried voice I say, “A woman in the computer room. Upstairs.” The words barely escape my mouth and they run upstairs to find the trespasser while I walk out of the mansion with satisfaction.

Indeed, Beth taught me too much than she should have. Call me selfish but that’s what the world made me. I couldn’t have let Beth have forty per cent. After all, what would she do with it in jail? As for my father this episode would definitely motivate him to set a computer password. I whistle walking on the road thinking of the colour my bungalow would be.

Tagging:

@ruins-of-heart @witchpossessinghozier @some-broken-words @sinless-mind @luck1998 @ze-thoughts-are-stupid @random-lit @saamiya @colinisalright @thunder19sstuff @yalocal-deadpoet @asthetically-bookish @literature-is-my-religion @mrun-v @songfromstars @donapreachesart @i-snort-chocolates @duskobserver @apprielle24 @halfagonyhalfhop3 @klainebrittana @ray-of-darkness7 @balladofableedingpoet2112 @morticiapretz @vantaerayleigh1997 @sillylilbakaaa @church-of-burnt-romances @burn-like-starss @mjsespaces-blog @theleechwhodrinksbleach

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wangxiangiftexchange · 4 years ago

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Lunar New Year Gift for vedrividia!

Pairing: Wei Wuxian/Lan Wangji; past Wei Wuxian/Other (implied) Rating: Mature Warnings: brief depiction of sexual harassment, brief instance of misgendering, implied/referenced past suicide attempt, implied/referenced past sexual assault (off-screen), implied/referenced past forced pregnancy (off screen), implied/referenced underage sex & pregnancy (off-screen), alcoholism, coming out, implied/referenced homophobia Other Tags: trans male character, disabled character, gay male character, open ending, unreliable narrator, angst, tender, chance meeting, confession, reunion, character with incomplete spinal cord injury, iSCI, it probably sounds darker than it is

Summary: On the last eve before spring Wei Ying finds himself at the end of a road. What awaits him on the other side depends on the steps he takes to cross it. Someone walks beside him.

Disclaimer: I am neither Chinese, trans nor disabled. All of the portrayal in this fic is based on research. It's not my intent to offend and I'm open to critique as long as it's respectful and constructive. Wei Ying's journey is his own and does not represent all of the disabled or trans community. The fic is set in a world that closely resembles ours, but where corona never happened and maybe China's laws are just a little less restrictive (but still very phobic), so bear that in mind. I do not own any of the characters.

Notes - Beginning: The idea of trans male Wei Ying had been stuck in my head for a while now, and I've been wanting to try my hand at a trans story, because I've never done that before. This assignment was an opening to do that in a darker, more serious setting. I have also wanted to explore Wei Ying's suicidal issues while translating his story into a modern setting for some time (it was supposed to be a coffee shop AU, only the coffee shop never appeared hah). It was simultaneously hard and fun to write, and I'm grateful for it. @vedrividia, I hope you like it!

In the past I didn't feel like I could do a good job at representing anyone of an identity I couldn't quite empathize with. Since then I've surrounded myself with trans inclusive media, and followed transgender blogs and channels, and I hope that this fic does right by all of them.

I am aware of some of the potentially problematic topics, but I also didn't want to ignore all the challenges and abuse and trauma that trans folk are forced to endure on a daily basis. (Did you know that trans people have some of the highest suicide rates, and likely to have alcohol issues? Making everyone happy and nothing hurt felt all kinds of wrong knowing that.) I believe that representing both - an ideal world alongside the real and flawed one - is important.

Positive stories are also important - this is one. Or at least I hope I was able to make it one.

On a more cheerful note, there are pictures that served as an inspiration for this story, namely this photoset (especially the pic in the leather jacket, the one on the couch and the close up) done in faceapp by a genius, this brain-frying picture, and of course this picture from the Harper's Bazaar Photoshoot that none of us are over. I completely blame Xiao Zhan's androgyny.

Last but not least, I owe a massive thanks to Laura for the amazing beta they did on a rather short notice and brought this fic to another level. Thank you for your hard work!!! :)

End notes: Wei Ying has an incomplete spinal cord injury in the lumbar area (at L1 or L2). I didn't realize that I played myself when I gave him an incomplete injury, because the lack of references and information is in terms of quantity a total opposite to everything available on complete SCI. Which in turn made the telling of such a story feel even more important. If any of you know of a good resource for the daily life of people with iSCI, I'm all ears.

Even researching the walking aides was a challenge, since most information is on wheelchair dependent people, which Wei Ying is not. He has a wheelchair but he refuses to use it, for several reasons, one of them being image, another being worry of atrophy. He likes a good walk, and there's progress thanks to physical therapy, most of which is covered by insurance. I was debating an exoskeleton/brace for him, but from what I gathered they aren't really useful for SCI (I welcome any additional info about this), and those that would be cost a ton and aren't covered by insurance - which is a big factor for Wei Ying. The toss ended up being between forearm crutches and a walking frame, but in the end I decided on crutches, because it seemed like Wei Ying would prefer them? For now? With crutches he can pretend, and I also didn't know to what extent a walking frame would be insurance covered (in China), and whether he'd be at a point where he would accept one. (I imagine the simple ones would be covered by insurance, the question is whether they make a huge difference to crutches, and whether a rollator - with wheels and a seat is something that would count as 'necessary' in this case.)

However, once again, I am not adequately educated on all that goes into the decision making here. No one ever mentions things like these in success stories. In the end I left it as a room for future development. I'm pretty sure Wen Qing is trying to convince him to get one.

I was debating whether to tag dysphoria. While it is not explicitly stated in the fic, Wei Ying does experience it, although this has gotten better since he realized being trans, came out and started testosterone. His decision to not transition fully is one that many trans people make at a point in their lives, for any number of reasons. This does not mean he'll never change his mind, or won't explore other forms of expression. It's a choice that the current Wei Ying is making, completely independent of future Wei Ying.

It's possible in China to get a gender confirmation surgery, but the requirements sound like a nightmare. The first thing you have to do is get diagnosed with 'gender disorder', be five years in (unsuccessful) therapy for it, at least 20 and unmarried. If he decides to transition fully to a male presenting body he can only marry someone who is biologically female in the future, under Chinese law. (Imagine having to divorce your significant other in order to be who you are. Imagine having to make this decision. It makes me want to write fic about it.)

It also costs a ton, as none of it is covered by insurance. You can only start hormone therapy in order to get surgery, which leads a lot of trans people to acquire hormones illegally and without medical counseling. I purposefully did not decide where Wei Ying gets his T from. I didn't want him to not have it, but I left the how undecided. For the most part I headcanon it as one of the things that make my world a little different, since hormone therapy is a thing that exists outside of transitioning as well. E.g. many female athletes use testosterone to boost their performance, and many other women take it for various medical reasons. I feel like WWX could find ways to acquire some. Now, whether this would be legal or not is left open.

By the way? Never, EVER deadname. Just don't. The moment someone comes out to you as trans, tells you their pronouns and name, that's what you use. You forget everything that came prior to that, wipe it out of your memory, it's ashes on the sands of time unless stated otherwise BY THEM, got it?

Now, Wei Ying's case. I was hesitant about how to approach this, but from the start I knew two things. I wanted the same kind of intimacy of WWX & LWJ calling each other by their birth names as in canon, but I also didn't want to go the way most authors go in this case i.e. splitting the names to pre- and post- transition. It is my understanding that most Chinese names are unisex (if anyone has more info on this, I'd love to have it), or can be used for all genders, and I didn't want to force a gender issue where there wasn't one. However, I also wanted something parallel that could be used in a similar way. What I came up with is what you see in text. While Wei Ying did change his name, the only reason why it's still somewhat okay to use 'Wuxian' is because he explicitly says he likes it. In fact, in my head somewhere in the imagined future of this verse, he and JFM have a conversation about it where JFM tells him if he wants it, it can still be his name - he didn't give it to an image, but a person. IDK how well any of this works, or translates to actual trans or Chinese (or trans and Chinese) people, so if you have words for me, let me know.

On a side note, in 2015 China lifted the one-child policy in favor of a two-child policy. A-Yuan was born in 2017.

Wei Ying attempted suicide between the 4th and 8th week of his pregnancy. During the early weeks the probability of a fetus surviving a major fall (even a fall from stairs) is significantly higher than later in the pregnancy, and the scaffolding he jumped from wasn't actually that high. I'm also considering that there might have been something to cushion the fall that he hadn't noticed (a stray rope, or a net) or been aware of (like padding on the stage), but that's a detail I decided to leave to your imagination. On the other hand, sustaining a SCI during early pregnancy is likely to have fatal consequences, as I found out a week before the deadline. In the end, they both got very lucky. Wei Ying spent the next 3 months in a coma. When he woke up it was too late to terminate. Jiang Fengmian had been adamant that the decision not be made without Wei Ying's consent, which was nice of him, but also ended up making the decision for Wei Ying regardless.

Last but not least, if you've read this and feel like you have something to add, I love any kind of comments, whether you wanna review the fic, have some useful information for me, would like to discuss a point or just like to say hi! :)

*****

Transverse

If asked, Wei Ying wouldn't have remembered how he had gotten to the bar. He didn't remember taking a different route on the short walk back home, he hadn't even been aware there was a bar in the first place. He only remembered suddenly standing in front of it, aching to his bones, limbs leaden with a familiar exhaustion, morose and longing for nothing more than a little break. His back was on fire, his leg was throbbing, the skin underneath his binder wouldn’t stop itching and to top it off his stomach had been cramping in a way it wasn't supposed to anymore. His body had decided to give him a wonderful gift for the holiday. Wei Ying wouldn't wish this on his worst enemy, and that spoke volumes to anyone who knew who occupied that position.

Needless to say, he was desperate for a drink.

The bar was almost empty so early in the afternoon, and shortly before the holiday, all the regulars had likely gone home to see their families. It was the time of reunions, the golden week of spring knocking on the door. The whole town looked empty, seemingly asleep and abuzz at the same time, a strange kind of liminal space born in the atmosphere of the coming celebrations, quiet with contained impatience. He had been painfully aware of it the entire week, the turning of another year leaving him nothing to do but watch people go where Wei Ying couldn't return anymore.

The Lunar New Year always made him hurt worse than usual, in more ways than purely physical. Wei Ying had felt that strange air peak today, even in the confines of his tiny office at the back of the Pacific Coffee branch he had been working at for a little over two months. It was a tiny thing on the busiest street of their small town, smelling of comfort in the wee hours of the morning and of salvation late in the evening. The staff had needed support with handling the supply chain, so that they could focus on serving the staggering amount of customers that came in all day.

It had seemed perfect when Wei Ying had first limped inside on his forearm crutches, with a letter of recommendation, feeling smaller than an ant but significantly less tough. The reintegration program had been a lifeline thrown to a drowning man when he had first heard about it. It had been the opportunity to restart his life. Earn an income. Be independent. In time maybe even repay his friends for the kindness they had shown when he had nowhere to go. Now? Now he wasn't sure that he'd still have a job after the holiday was over.

"This really can't go on," his boss had said, midway through the most gruesome shift the shop had ever witnessed. "Half the supplies came in wrong, for the third time this week!"

Sometimes, Wei Ying wondered why he still bothered. He could probably survive on aid and love for himself, and the Wens made enough to take care of the rest. It just… It could have been nice. To be the one to take care of the people he cared about, for a change.

He really needed that drink.

The whiskey looked enticing from where he was half-sitting, half-leaning on a stool, crutches stashed between his legs. He could almost taste it, the phantom of the sharp flavor burning his tongue.

"Hi, darling." An unfamiliar voice startled him out of his thoughts, causing him to tense. He had been aware of the middle-aged man at the counter, but he hadn't been paying him much attention until now. "Can I buy you a drink? How about Sex on the Beach?"

It was difficult to control himself at that tasteless, juvenile joke. Wei Ying could almost taste the bile rising in his throat and the beginnings of what would no doubt become a pounding headache throbbing in his temples. Great. Just what he had needed.

The whiskey bottle called out to him again, beckoning him to the bitter burn.

A drink. That was what he needed - a drink.

Do you really? Need it? The voice of his therapist came to his mind, sudden and uninvited.

"Hey bartender!" The man called out in the most unwelcome case of accidental telepathy in the history of mankind, sneaking one arm around Wei Ying’s waist, a sweaty hand settling on his hip. "One Sex on the Beach for the miss, on my tab!"

There was the rising bile again, tension squeezing his muscles, and the flash of a haughty smirk at the furthest back of his mind. This wasn't what he wanted. None of it. Neither the touch nor the drink, no matter what his mind wanted to convince him of.

It's easier to need than the things that take hard work, the ones you have to earn. It had taken him a long time to admit that.

"I don't drink." Wei Ying said, angling his head as much as the muscles of his neck permitted to look at the guy invading his personal space squarely. "Remove your hand now."

The guy bristled.

"Hey, chill out, sweetheart." He was quick to regain his composure with an awkward laugh and not enough common sense. Wei Ying supposed he must have been used to rejection. Too bad. "You're so tense… Maybe a virgin cocktail then."

His crutch shot up before the full sentence was out.

The man stumbled back with a startled yelp as the rubber point connected with his chest in a sharp jab.

"Hey! What's your problem?!"

"I said I don't drink." Wei Ying was completely unapologetic, still holding his crutch like a sword, but the guy was already walking away, muttering ‘fucking bitch’ under his breath.

"You alright there, girl?"

His gut clenched at the words.

He looked up to meet the only slightly worried, but otherwise unbothered gaze of the bartender and told himself it wasn't her fault. She probably wasn't even aware. He knew he didn't… There was no way for him to pass. There was nothing he could do about that, had already decided not to, not at this time, not in this country. Wei Ying didn't expect people to know on sight. He didn't. It didn't change the fact though that every single misnomer felt like someone was peeling his skin off.

"I'm not a girl," he said to her almost too quietly, but he knew she heard when he met her gaze. A strained silence passed between them in which Wei Ying watched her frown in confusion, then sputter with the loss of words, before awkwardly shuffling off. He smiled wryly. How funny. It really wasn't anything complicated, and yet… So few were able to comprehend.

Wordlessly, Wei Ying slid off the stool and made his way out of the bar as quick as his crutches let him be.

Once outside, the crisp air mercilessly purifying, he realized how close to the edge he had gotten once again. He had to stop doing this. He couldn't afford another fall, another spiral back down the drain. Not when he had just clawed his way out. Not when he had people depending on him now. Tiny people with curious gray eyes, so much like his own. Waiting for him at home.

Something icy touched his face and instinctively he looked up only to find it snowing.

That explained the ache.

The cold always made him feel sore, although he knew at least some of it was phantom pain. He hadn’t retained a whole lot of feeling in his left leg, beyond a tingle that had become almost constant and the occasional twitch. His right leg was fine, it just tended to ache a lot, to a point where Wei Ying sometimes found himself wishing it wasn't better off than the other one. But then he wouldn't get away with 'forgetting' his wheelchair at home, so he quickly dismissed that thought. Besides, there were plenty of people who had it worse. He, at least, could still walk. He could still stand. Kinda. He had no room to complain.

After all, he had done this to himself.

'It's better this way.' He remembered thinking, standing on the top of the catwalk stairs backstage of the high school auditorium. 'A-jie, Jiang Cheng,… Lan Zhan. I'm sorry for the trouble I've caused you. I love you. I'll get out of your hair now.'

In the end it had been easy to tip backwards and let himself fall.

Waking up had been the hard part. Not only had he failed, but every reason that had pushed him to end it all had only been made worse. Worse still, after. He had lived though, so that was that. There was no utility in regret. He couldn't go back. The only way was forward now, step by painful step. Standing around and staring at the snow falling was nice, but it wouldn't make the walk shorter. Home wasn't far away. He'd take it slow. He'd be there before he knew it.

He barely took three steps before he felt someone's broad shoulder bump against his, his equilibrium yanked roughly from under his feet.

He remembered falling.

Not the act of it, nor every thought and feeling that preceded it, but he remembered the soft pressure at his skull as he tipped backwards, the endless instant of the free fall, a moment frozen in time. Not the impact, but the inevitability of it, coming, coming, almost there. The loss of control. The frightening, exhilarating realization of his absolute surrender. Not the oblivion that followed but the fragments of muddled awareness afterwards. Disorientation, rock bottom and the overwhelming sense of failure.

It had felt nothing like now.

He felt the loss of ground beneath his feet, the scrape of concrete against his palms, as he all but starfished onto the pavement. A sharp pain. The frustrated annoyance of another thing gone wrong in the long list that made up the day.

Only the failure felt the same, funny that.

"I'm sorry!" Said a deep voice. "I wasn't looking."

"Yeah, no shit." He chuckled, because really, who could have guessed.

"Here, let me help." There were hands on his arm, just as he propped himself up, but he yanked it away.

"I'm fine!" He wasn't helpless. He wasn't, dammit! He had his arms, his abdominals, and most of his legs. Getting up from the ground wasn't such a herculean task for him as for those who depended on a wheelchair. He didn't have to call an ambulance just because he starfished. He didn't need any help at all here, especially not the help of some ditzy stranger with their head in the clouds…

"Wei Ying?"

Wei Ying froze.

Few people on this Earth called him that, and none of them had a voice like that. He looked up to see glowing amber on a face carved out of a dream.

"Lan Zhan?"

Of all the people to be in town today of all days, the least likely would have to be Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan, his former senior, Lan Zhan, his best friend. Lan Zhan, whom he had told his secrets, Lan Zhan, who he… who he…

"Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan… Can I kiss you? I understand you don't like me that way, and it's fine, I'm fine, really, but… uhm… It's supposed to be special. The first kiss. I… I want it to be yours. Just one kiss." A child he barely remembered had wanted and wanted, never satisfied. "Ah, it's okay if you don't want to. I get it. It's fine. I'm just being selfish."

But that had been a long time ago. A person he didn't know, a past life that had never truly been. Not for him in any case.

Lan Zhan was looking at him like a ghost had appeared in front of him.

Although, ghosts didn't need crutches. Honestly, Wei Ying did wish he could float quite frequently.

Face twisted in sardonic amusement at that childish wish, he pulled himself up with some maneuvering and a lot of effort. This seemed to wake Lan Zhan from his daze as he quickly followed. Wei Ying didn't miss the sweeping gaze as his once friend took him in, wondering what he saw. A stranger, perhaps? A new person? Him? Wei Ying knew he hadn't changed much on the outside, aside the obvious and maybe in his weight distribution, but Lan Zhan had always had the ability to look past the surface. Was he still able to do that? Or was he just taking in his appearance, assessing his matted, worn out body that seemed to show every year that had passed multiplied by ten? Wei Ying was aware that time had not been the kindest to him, but he was hanging on. He was past the worst now. He was doing better. He was!

He wondered if Lan Zhan still could see that too.

"Wei Ying." His name again, spoken with enough wonder to give Wei Ying the courage to meet his gaze. There was an unspoken question in it.

"Yeah," Wei Ying answered and felt the cusp of a smile pull at the corners of his lips. "Long time no see, Lan Zhan. Fancy meeting you here."

"I really like you, Lan Zhan," the person he didn't know had said, red faced with embarrassment and a shaking voice. "I mean like… like like."

Back then he had believed that moment to be the most nerve-wracking experience he was ever going to survive. Today he missed his naivety.

Lan Zhan gave him a look like he just realized it was really Wei Ying standing in front of him. Like he still could barely believe it. It unraveled a completely different ache in Wei Ying. They had been close once, and though they had always shared their secrets, Wei Ying had seen him so open and unguarded but once.

"I...like...boys," had been the answer. The refusal so, so gentle, unable to accept, thus giving something of equal value in return instead. A truth for a truth, a secret for a secret. "Wei Ying, I'm gay."

Lan Zhan, always figuring things out so quickly, always willing to accept reality no matter how hard it was. Wei Ying hadn't known back then. If he had known… Who knew what would have been then. It didn't matter anymore. It was a life long gone. What remained of it were a few good memories, some of them he wasn't sure were real.

Now, chance had made them cross paths once again, at a liminal space transversing through time.

"Are you hurt?" Lan Zhan's voice brought him back from his thoughts, and Wei Ying looked where he was reaching for his scraped hands and knees.

Lan Zhan, always the same Lan Zhan… "Not selfish."

So wonderful and kind and warm.

"Eh, I'm fine. Nothing Wen Qing can't fix." He brushed his former friend off, noticing how Lan Zhan's eyebrow seemed to go up infinitesimally at the mention of his old classmate and promptly changed the subject. "What brings you to Yiling, Lan Zhan? Shouldn't you be with your family for Chun Jie?"

"I…" Lan Zhan looked away. "Didn't get an earlier flight."

That sounded suspicious, especially since the Lan Zhan Wei Ying knew liked to plan ahead. But Wei Ying wasn't the same he had been, maybe Lan Zhan wasn't either. People were allowed to change. It also didn't answer what he was doing in Yiling in the first place, but Wei Ying wasn't forcing him to tell. Wei Ying had never wanted to force Lan Zhan into anything, he wasn't going to start now.

"Wei Ying." Lan Zhan looked at him again, this time meeting his eyes squarely. He paused. "How have you been?"

Wei Ying felt the loom of a shadow over him, and his gaze dropped to the ground for a second.

"As you can see." He put a reassuring smile on his face as he summoned enough will to hold Lan Zhan's gaze. "Still alive and kicking."

Which was probably much more than the last time Lan Zhan had heard of him.

"I was looking for you. I wanted to see you. After." The what remained unspoken. Lan Zhan's kind heart hadn't changed. Wei Ying sought comfort in it, warmed by the thought of his best friend trying to get in touch even after everything went to hell. "I was told you… left."

Wei Ying made a soft sound of affirmation through the small smile that had spread on his face. "I moved out on my eighteenth birthday. Aunt Yu… I was supposed to stay till graduation, but... ah. I fucked up. Colossally."

"Wei Ying." Lan Zhan remained the only person Wei Ying knew who managed to frown without a single crease on his face. "You were recovering."

"It was fine, Lan Zhan." Wei Ying chuckled even as he held back a sigh. Lan Zhan didn't know half of it. "I moved in with the Wens."

There was a pause.

"With Wen Qing?" Lan Zhan asked and Wei Ying realized that small detail wouldn't have been immediately clear to him, all things considered.

"With Wen Qing and her family." He nodded. After a moment of thought he added. "Not Wen Chao. I know nothing about that douchebag."

"Mn," Lan Zhan agreed and it sounded so wholehearted that it startled a laugh out of Wei Ying.

"Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan," Wei Ying said, feeling truly light for the first time in a long time. The smile he gave Lan Zhan felt warm and genuine. He hoped Lan Zhan saw it too, and didn't think Wei Ying was trying to shake him off, when he spoke next. "It's so good to see you. You're the best thing that happened to me today. I would love to catch up, but they're waiting for me at home and I'm already late."

"Mn." Lan Zhan nodded. There was a pause. Then, just as Wei Ying was about to ask for his number, "I could. Walk you. If you like."

"I thought you had a flight to catch." Wei Ying wanted to smack his mouth for how hopeful he sounded.

"Mn," Lan Zhan said. "In the evening."

"Lan Zhan!" He startled, amused and surprised at the same time. "And here I thought your bedtime was nine! Don't tell me you crossed to the dark side."

"It is Chuxi." Lan Zhan's voice was soft with a playful note, and Wei Ying felt his heart turn all over again even as he laughed.

"Aiya, Lan Zhan…" A smile spread on his face. "Alright then. I'd love to have your company. If you're sure."

"I am," Lan Zhan answered. "I would… very much like to… catch up with you."

"Well then." Wei Ying's smile broadened and started again in the direction he was heading earlier. "Right this way, sir. But I'm warning you. I'm basically a snail now."

For a beat there was silence, in which Wei Ying figured that Lan Zhan was probably looking for a proper response. He still didn't know how to handle self-deprecating humor, then. Wei Ying chuckled quietly to himself. The more things change…

"That is alright," Lan Zhan finally said. "I have time."

"Oh, do you? That's great!" Wei Ying grinned from ear to ear, marveling at how easy it suddenly was. "Aah, Lan Zhan I really missed this!"

"Mn," Lan Zhan agreed but didn't say anything else.

For a few moments silence reigned again, of a comfortable kind. One that allowed Wei Ying to bask in the startling, almost miraculous presence of his best friend. Or it would have been, had Wei Ying not been keenly aware of Lan Zhan's intense stare.

"Do I really look that bad?" He teased, hoping to give Lan Zhan the opening he probably needed to ask whatever questions he had. "I've actually gained weight over Dongzhi you know."

Lan Zhan blinked, as if startled to be called out. Wasn't he aware that he had been staring? Or had he not expected Wei Ying to say something?

"You look…" he started, then swept his gaze over Wei Ying.

"Tired?" Wei Ying offered, keeping the humor in his words. The last thing he wanted Lan Zhan to think was that he needed to sugar coat his words around him now. "Stressed? Battle worn?"

"Different," Lan Zhan finished.

"Ah." Wei Ying breathed out, something in his chest tightening. "Good different, or bad different?"

Lan Zhan looked at him for a long moment.

"Different you," he finally answered. A pause. "More you."

Wei Ying's breath stuttered, a small questioning sound dragging itself up his throat.

"Wei Ying…" Lan Zhan hesitated for a brief moment, unsure. "May I know your pronouns?"

Always so straight to the point.

"Pro… Pronouns?!" Wei Ying chuckled but even he could hear the nerves buzzing through that sound. "How did you figure that?"

Lan Zhan just kept looking at him. Wei Ying swallowed.

"I…"

He had to know. Since he actually asked, he had to already know. Or at least suspect. Be aware. In general, or about Wei Ying? Had he realized in their years apart, or was there something about Wei Ying now that made him guess? No one has ever been able to tell upon glance. No one.

Something fluttered deep in his chest, like the jingles of a tambourine reverberating. It gave him courage.

Wei Ying took a deep, steadying breath. "He, him, Lan Zhan. It's he, him."

He managed to swallow the thousand words that dragged themselves up his throat instead of that one, simple truth. To his credit, Lan Zhan let him, waiting patiently and with complete silence for Wei Ying to say his part.

"I'm trans," Wei Ying added, finding it easier to say after the initial confession. "As in full time, on actual testosterone, trans male."

Their eyes met. A heartbeat of silence.

"Mn." Lan Zhan nodded. "Makes sense."

Wei Ying had not expected that.

In his defense, no one had ever replied like that to him coming out.

"What?" He choked out, bewildered. Lan Zhan was giving him a gentle look, a diametrical opposite of Wei Ying's wide eyes. "Why does that make sense, Lan Zhan?"

"It didn't before." Lan Zhan's gaze dropped. "Now it does."

"What? Why?" Wei Ying repeated, not comprehending a single word his friend had said. At the back of his mind he knew he should be happy and relieved that as dear a friend as Lan Zhan accepted him, and he would be later, but now he was just confused. "Lan Zhan, what are you saying?"

"You confounded me. Before. I didn't understand. It didn't. Add up." He didn't even expect an answer beyond a shrug and an 'It just does', and yet Lan Zhan gave him one, trying to explain like he wanted Wei Ying to understand something important. Important enough to bring it up at their first chance meeting in years. It still didn't clear anything up. The way he was dragging his words out seemed odd too, for how upfront Lan Zhan usually was.

"What didn't add up?" Wei Ying asked again. What about him had confused Lan Zhan?

"I didn't know you were a boy. So it didn't make sense," Lan Zhan answered without looking up and Wei Ying felt dread tighten his stomach into a knot. "But now it does."

"What?" He frowned, the rush of blood pounding in his ears. "Lan Zhan, what are you talking about?"

Lan Zhan finally looked up at him and Wei Ying suddenly felt light headed. The grip on his crutches must have gone knuckle white from how firmly he was gripping the handles. It couldn't be…

"I was confused why I liked you," Lan Zhan whispered, dropping his gaze again. "Why I enjoyed kissing you."

Wei Ying's brain was white static.

No. No, no, no, no, no, no, "No!"

His whole body wanted to recoil with shock.

"Wei Ying," Lan Zhan pleaded but was cut short.

"I confessed to you! I told you I liked you!" He saw the bob of Lan Zhan's throat, how his eyes fell shut as he swallowed. Wei Ying despaired for words that could express the entire scale of emotions he felt, from betrayal to hope, but mostly just... shock. "You said you… You've never… And now, after everything… Do you even… Lan Zhan!!!"

"Wei Ying," he said his name like it was all he was capable of saying, with a hitch of sudden hesitance on the last syllable, a minuscule frown around his eyes, like he realized something important. "Do you still call yourself Wei Ying?"

The quiet question conjured up another memory, of an occasion much kinder.

"It's my birth name," he heard his youthful voice, still too high although most had described it as low. Lan Zhan had raised an eyebrow at him, even more puzzled than before. Wei Ying had laughed as he went to explain. "Same character as in 'infant'. Wuxian is the name uncle Jiang gave me so that I have a better name than, you know, 'baby'. It's a cool name! I mean, 'no envy' come on! Like I have no match in the world! Totally rad, you know, uncle Jiang's naming sense is A+."

"But you prefer Wei Ying." Lan Zhan had looked at him then, searchingly and Wei Ying had looked away with a snort, to hide his swallow.

"It's a terrible name. Who the hell names their baby 'baby'?"

Lan Zhan hadn't replied anything to that, and Wei Ying still remembered his next words, and how they had burned on his tongue, how he couldn't hold them back.

"It's what the people who loved me had called me."

In the present, Wei Ying found himself laughing in spite of the utter shock. Only Lan Zhan. Only Lan Zhan would give him a heart attack first then go make sure he wasn't deadnaming him on top of everything.

"Lan Zhan!!!" He cried out. "That's so not the point right now! But, yes, I do. I changed it back, actually. Officially, I mean."

"You dislike it." It sounded more like a question than a statement, so Wei Ying answered.

"Don't get me wrong, I still think Wuxian is way cooler, and my siblings still call me that, but…" His gaze fell away from Lan Zhan to something more distant, beyond his focus as he struggled over his words, drawing them out only with great difficulty from where they were rooted deep inside of him. "It's the name given to the image of a person that never really existed. Like… the painting of a person you met in a dream. And I sorta… I like to imagine that, regardless of who I am… They would still love me."

They. The people who gave him that horrible, unimaginative name.

"Mn," Lan Zhan agreed like there had never been any doubt about it. Wei Ying snorted.

"Wei Ying," there it was again, his name, spoken so kindly, if not hesitantly as Lan Zhan too seemed to be struggling for words. "I would like to apologize. I hurt you. I have been looking for you to tell you this."

All at once, Wei Ying felt his shock settle into something more profound, like the wave that had swallowed him revealing the depth of the ocean. There was nothing Lan Zhan had to apologize for. Not for the lack of awareness, and certainly not for his feelings. Even their conflicts had always stemmed from a place of deep care.

"No." Wei Ying shook his head. "Not more than I hurt myself, Lan Zhan. Even when you scolded me, you never hurt me."

Had Lan Zhan broken his heart? Yeah, he had. So what? Did that mean he could be held accountable for it? Wei Ying's feelings were his own shit to deal with, not Lan Zhan's. Returning them wasn't Lan Zhan's duty. Even if he returned them, would it be fair to fault him for running away from them? For feeling insecure and anxious about his own attraction? For not knowing these things weren't as clear cut as all the adults around them had wanted to make them believe? It wasn't like Wei Ying had known either back then. He had, perhaps, understood himself even less than Lan Zhan. Most importantly, it was all in the past now. It couldn't be changed. What they made of it now was what mattered.

"None of my bullshit is your fault," he added. "You didn't go and tell me to fuck up my life. That was all on me."

"You wrote," Lan Zhan started, then paused, hesitating, then started again. "In your letter, you wrote…"

Wei Ying picked up on the question immediately.

"Not you," he said, the same words he had penned all those years ago in what was one of only two letters. "Never you. I had my reasons, but none of them were about you. In fact, I thought of you as the last good thing in my life at that point. The one true friend I still had left."

Lan Zhan's gaze fell on his crutches, but he didn't ask. Wei Ying was grateful.

"Come on, I need to get a move on," he said, starting to walk again, smiling at the surprised expression Lan Zhan had given him, when he realized he was still welcome to accompany him. Maybe it was something about that look that made Wei Ying add, after another second of thought, "There are people waiting for my return."

"Mn," Lan Zhan hummed, falling back in step next to him. "That's good. You should have people waiting for you at home."

Wei Ying couldn't help but smile.

"Say, Lan Zhan,…" he said after a few seconds of silence, when all what Lan Zhan has confessed slowly sunk in. "When you say you've been looking for me… You mean all this time?"

"Mn." Lan Zhan nodded. Wei Ying watched him gather his thoughts, the snow fluttering all around them. "I wanted to see you. Ask how you were doing. See if… If you needed support. Apologize. For not being a good friend to you before."

"Lan Zhan…" Wei Ying listened to him, and when Lan Zhan finally looked up at him his gaze was so sincere that his heart ached with it.

"I wanted to tell you the truth." Lan Zhan didn't let himself be interrupted. "That I liked you back. Without any expectations. That I didn't understand, but that it didn't matter. That I could like you without understanding why. That I wasn't asking for anything, just wanted you to know. That I wanted to help, in any way you'd let me."

"Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan…" Wei Ying sighed, vision suddenly blurred. He drew a deep breath. "But I wasn't there."

"Mn." Lan Zhan nodded. "I asked your sister where I could find you…"

"But she didn't know," Wei Ying finished for him. No one knew, except one person. "And Jiang Cheng wouldn't give you my address if you held him at gunpoint."

"Your brother knows you're here." It had the structure of a question but it was spoken as a statement, the same kind of incredulous as the look Lan Zhan was giving him. All things considered, it was kinda fair, Wei Wuxian thought as he barked a laugh.

"Yeah," he said, shoulders shaking a little as he snickered. "He's the designated secret keeper."

Lan Zhan just stared, wordlessly.

Wei Ying's smile gained an edge at the unspoken question. He had to clear his throat before he answered. "We're… not quite alright yet, but… Ah, how do I say this? He's the better judge of the situation? With, uhm, aunt Yu, I mean. It's… complicated."

Honestly, when wasn't it?

"I… see." Lan Zhan really didn't sound like he did, but didn't press, continuing his story instead. "Your sister was able to tell me which city you were in. So I… applied for a job."

Wait. Pause. Rewind.

"You work here?!" Wei Ying felt his jaw go slack.

"As an attorney. At 'Xiao and Song'," Lan Zhan confirmed, then looked back at Wei Ying. "Civil law. With focus on LGBTQ+ rights. I passed the bar last year."

"You…" There was so much to unpack in that statement that Wei Ying couldn't quite get the words together fast enough. At the back of his mind he was aware he should probably congratulate Lan Zhan on his degree but he was too stunned by the other, more important implications. "You've moved here? For work? All because… Because… You were looking for me?"

"Mn."

"Lan Zhan!" His amazing friend who, for some reason, in spite of having a great new life had been desperate to find him. "But you… But I…"

"Wei Ying," he spoke so, so softly, but with clear intent to stop any protest Wei Ying might have wanted to utter. It worked. Wei Ying's mouth fell shut, taking his friend in with a bright, wide gaze. "I missed you. I have no expectations. I just… missed you."

Warmth spread in Wei Ying's chest over the tender words, like a dying flame rekindled.

"Lan Zhan..." He didn't quite know what to say, oddly touched. "It's how you knew, isn't it? I'm not the only trans person you've met."

"There was a client," Lan Zhan admitted. "They made me think of you. I have wanted to ask you since. I wanted to know if… If I made a mistake."

He didn't specify what mistake he feared being guilty of. He didn't really have to.

For a while Wei Ying just looked at him.

"Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan…" He sighed, a small but genuine smile stealing itself onto his lips. "You… you're something else, you know that?"

Lan Zhan didn't reply, but there was something vulnerable in his expression.

"I missed you too."

Lan Zhan's eyes snapped back to Wei Ying's face, full of naked hope and a surprise so honest and pure that Wei Ying's heartstrings almost snapped. He could accept it. He could accept a friend longing for his company, even as his heart hammered against his chest like it was trying to escape its utter desolation.

"I couldn't have expected you to know something I didn't realize until much later." He hadn't realized there was tension around his friend's eyes until it relaxed.

Wei Ying took him in, his entire appearance and noted that although perfectly poised and immaculately dressed, beneath it all there was an exhaustion, a tension he didn't recognize. He thought about their meeting – the collision of two bodies launched out of their orbit – and everything else Lan Zhan had told him and a question dragged itself on his tongue that refused to be swallowed back in.

"Say, Lan Zhan… Since we are being so honest..." He asked before he could have thought better of it. "Why aren't you in Suzhou yet, for real? You always went home at least two weeks ahead of the festival. Did something happen?"

If there was something happening with Lan Zhan's family… Well, Wei Ying had missed enough opportunities to be a good friend in all the years they had been apart, or even before that. If Lan Zhan wanted to be his friend, Wei Ying was returning that tenfold. A secret for a secret, a truth for a truth.

If Lan Zhan wanted, that was.

For a second Wei Ying wasn't sure, but then the broad shoulders slumped, heaving like a weight was being lifted off them.

"I didn't always intend to go," Lan Zhan admitted. "Brother convinced me at the last moment. I wish he hadn't."

Their eyes met and Wei Ying felt a sudden heat spread through his cheeks at the intensity of Lan Zhan's gaze. He didn't take the bait, waiting patiently instead.

"I came out to my uncle. After the bar." Lan Zhan's gaze fell to the ground again, and Wei Ying already knew what he was about to say, aching dread settling painfully in his chest. "He did not… react well. He tried to set me up immediately afterwards."

"Aw man..." Wei Ying tried to sound both gentle and sympathetic without being too pitying. In his experience that never helped. "Yeah, I get that you didn't want to go home after that."

"Mn." Lan Zhan nodded, but said no more.

"Was she at least pretty?" Wei Ying tried to joke, unable to bear that forlorn expression on Lan Zhan's face and incapable of thinking of anything better to cheer his friend up. It would have been easy in the past, but now, with years containing entire lifetimes between them he didn't know anymore how to make Lan Zhan laugh.

But then Lan Zhan's lips twitched a little, so maybe not all was lost.

"Luo Qingyang," he answered, like Wei Ying was supposed to know the vaguely familiar name. Lan Zhan responded to his confused frown with his own and went on to explain. "You were in the drama club together. She was… Juliet. To your Romeo."

Very few guys had been in the drama club at that time, so Wei Ying had usually gotten the main male protagonist. He had loved it. It had been one of the reasons why he had joined the drama club in the first place. His co-star in all of that...

"Mianmian!" He exclaimed, eyes bright with delight. "It's been ages since I've last…"...Seen her. Seen anyone, he didn't say, schooled his expression and laughed instead. "I can't believe they tried to set you up with Mianmian! How is she?"

"Mn," Lan Zhan made a small sound out agreement that amused Wei Ying, before he answered. "She is well. Studying. Also law. She will take the bar next year."

"All of you are so smart…" Wei Ying chuckled, fond with more memories. "You know I made out with her once?" He promptly laughed at Lan Zhan's expression. "Relax, it wasn't as good as with you."

Their eyes met again and Wei Ying saw something like hope spark in Lan Zhan's eyes, which…

Wei Ying stopped. He let his gaze wander around, collecting his thoughts. He startled as he realized he was almost home, the agonizing minutes he usually needed reduced to nothing in the presence of his friend. The ache that had gnawed at his limbs earlier had all but disappeared, replaced by a longing ache in his heart.

"Lan Zhan," he found himself speaking without the input of his mind. "You said you liked me, so you should know… I don't intend to have surgery." He saw Lan Zhan open his mouth, probably to assure him once more of his pure intentions, which Wei Ying didn't need to hear. "I know, I know, you have no expectations, and I'm not saying we have to, but… My feelings for you never changed. I still like you, but I'm also… I'm a man Lan Zhan, but I'm not adjusting my body. Not to that degree."

"Is it a financial issue?" Lan Zhan asked after a pause and Wei Ying cut him off before he could continue with something ridiculous like an offer to pay.

"It's… not not about money, but…" He thought for a moment about how to say what he wanted to say. "Regardless of that, I refuse to go through all the legal hoops that this government would demand of me, like I'm supposed to beg them just to be who I am. And... Besides that…" He took a deep breath. "I think I'd like to have another child."

"Another…" There was a strangled sound, which he ignored, forcing himself to voice what he'd been struggling to put into words for a while now.

"I want to give it one more try. Voluntarily," Wei Ying found it difficult to say, despite the thought of a baby in his arms filling him with a warmth he wouldn't have expected mere years ago. "With someone I actually like this time."

"This time." There was something very wrong with the tone of Lan Zhan's voice, and as Wei Ying looked up at him, realization hit him with the force of a freight train.

"Oh! Oh no!" Lan Zhan's eyes were akin to saucers, and Wei Ying vaguely thought he had never seen his friend express shock so openly. "Fuck, I'm so dumb! Of course you don't know! How would you know?!"

Of course that very same moment, before Lan Zhan had any chance of collecting himself, a cheerful shout echoed through the street in an all too familiar, youthful voice. "BABA!!!"

Wei Ying winced. In the way life usually was – his life in particular – before Wei Ying could come up with a single word of explanation, there was the flurry of movement, and a warmth enveloping his leg – the better one.

"Baba, baba, you're home!"

Wei Ying's eyes fell down to the source of the excited noise to have two mischievous gray eyes reflected back at him. An unbidden smile spread on his face.

"A-Yuan!" He shifted around a little until he could safely run his fingers through the child's hair, even as he was keenly aware of the man next to him. "Have you been waiting for me?"

There was a twinkle and a nod, his very own baby's face beaming up at him with unabashed adoration. A tiny hand wrapped itself around his wrist and just like that the last of the day's stress fell away. He looked back at Lan Zhan. It was difficult to describe the expression his friend was giving him, frozen with disbelief, shock and something too close to horror, as his mind seemed to be rearranging and reevaluating every piece of information known to him. Finding no point in delaying the inevitable, Wei Ying braced himself and went for it.

"Lan Zhan, this is a-Yuan. He's mine. Gave birth to him and all." He made a point to smile, although Lan Zhan's expression remained unchanged. Deciding to give him the space he needed to get himself together, Wei Ying turned his attention back to his child. "A-Yuan, this is Lan Zhan. He's an old friend of mine from school. Want to introduce yourself?"

"Hello!" A-Yuan said before Wei Ying even finished the sentence. "I'm a-Yuan and I'm already four years old! I like butterflies and bunnies! Baba gave me Radish and a coloring book for my birthday. I was four last month! I love my baba bestest! But I love xiao-shushu und Qing-guma and granny and uncle Shi lotsa too!"

It was an altogether perfect introduction, and Wei Ying felt pride and love thrumming through his heart with a strength he hadn't believed to be possible. He watched the mental math behind Lan Zhan's eyes, a complicated expression spreading on his friend's face. He decided to give him another moment to complete the mental calculations and focused on something else that a-Yuan had reminded him of.

"Speaking of, where's your xiao-shushu?" Wei Ying looked around, then with growing suspicion back at the child still wrapped around his leg. "Did you ditch him again?"

Mischief spread on a-Yuan's face as he hid in Wei Ying's thigh.

"A-Yuan." Wei Ying narrowed his eyes at him, gently scolding. "We've talked about this. No walking around on your own. What if something happened?"

"But I'm with you," came the simple answer. "I have to help you walk. You said! To help you walk I have to take your hand. I saw you and gege wasn't holding your hand, so I came to help."

"Ah, so filial, a-Yuan…" Wei Ying looked up to the skies, silently begging the heavens for strength while fighting a ferocious blush. This child of his was as much a blessing as he was a huge trouble. The best kind of trouble, if Wei Ying was honest.

"A-Yuan!"

He was still busy trying to change his smile into something more stern, when as if on cue the uncle in question appeared around the corner, calling for his nephew, looking just as frantic as Wei Ying expected him to be. He waited for Wen Ning's eyes to find them, before he looked back down at a-Yuan.

"See how worried Wen Ning is? You can't do this, a-Yuan." The child's expression fell. "Go tell him you're alright and apologize for running away."

A-Yuan didn't waste a single second, rocketing towards his uncle with an excited call.

With his child safe in the most dependable arms that there were, Wei Ying turned to Lan Zhan again. His friend's eyes were closed, face pulled into a tight expression, lips pressed into a thin line, all of which told him what conclusion Lan Zhan had reached.

"It was part of the reason," Wei Ying said, because he knew Lan Zhan would never ask and he wanted his friend to know. "But it wasn't all of it."

Lan Zhan's eyes opened, his look agonized but not pitying, Wei Ying realized.

"There were many things going on," he said. "It was all so fucked up… I knew I couldn't keep him, and somehow I figured… Might as well go together. In the end we both survived, funny that."

"The father. The father is…" Lan Zhan trailed off, couldn't bring himself to say the name, but he didn't have to. Just as Wei Ying didn't have to answer other than with a rueful smile. After all, there was only one option. Lan Zhan drew a deep breath. "Was it… Did he…"

Here too, Wei Ying knew what he was asking, felt it like the edge of a knife against his skin.

"I don't want to talk about it." He swallowed, a prickling at the corners of his eyelids. "Not yet, at least. I'll tell you the story another time."

Lan Zhan nodded. Worried his jaw. Wei Ying waited.

"Was that why you… left?" His voice was so quiet that if Wei Ying wasn't paying attention, he probably wouldn't have noticed he had said anything at all.

"To put it in the words of aunt Yu, whores aren't welcome under her roof. She threatened to leave uncle Jiang, if he kept supporting me. It's fine," he added quickly when he saw Lan Zhan's face darkening. "Uncle Jiang gave me the trust fund he had for me, which wasn't little, I have a job and I get some aid from the government too. There's also granny's pension and everyone else is working. You don't have to worry, Lan Zhan, we get by."

Lan Zhan looked like he wanted to say something cutting, but luckily they were interrupted by Wen Ning joining them, a-Yuan in his arms. He was probably getting too big for that, but he knew first hand that Wen Ning could lift a full-sized adult without breaking a sweat so he wasn't very worried for either of them.

"Wei-ge, welcome home," Wen Ning greeted him. His eyes wandered to Lan Zhan for a brief moment, then to Wei Ying's hands which were still scraped. "Is everything alright?"

"More than!" Wei Ying ignored the look, grinning and watched a-Yuan beam at him. "Everything's perfect, look who I met in town! You remember Lan Zhan, right? He was in the same class with Wen Qing. Turns out he works here!"

Wei Ying managed to say all of that in one breath before he even realized he was doing it, yet consciously leaving out the bar and without bothering to detail exactly how the 'bumping' went down. Wen Ning took it all in, then gave Lan Zhan a polite smile, his dark eyes meeting Lan Zhan's squarely.

"I know of Lan-xianbei," he said slowly, cautiously polite, before his expression settled into a smile and he inclined his head in greeting. "We've never met officially."

There was a brief round of long overdue introductions, which Wei Ying was happy to ignore in favor of watching a-Yuan grow increasingly fascinated with Lan Zhan. It etched the lines around Wei Ying's smile deeper into his features, in a way he hasn't felt for a long time.

"A-Yuan." he couldn't help but pinch one of the chubby cheeks, after a little shifting of weight. "You keep looking at Lan Zhan like that, he'll think you like him."

"Pretty gege," was all a-Yuan had to say to that, a smile splitting his face, while Lan Zhan's ears turned red. Wei Ying laughed, alight with surprise that the one tell-tale sign of his shyness still remained. Lan Zhan was looking at a-Yuan with increasing curiosity, that pained line from earlier disappearing from his features, slowly replaced by wonder instead.

Wei Ying only looked away when he felt a tiny finger poke at his cheek, angling his head towards a-Yuan to listen to whatever secret his son wanted to share.

"Will pretty gege stay for dinner?" A-Yuan whispered through his hands, causing a complicated set of feelings to run through Wei Ying's chest.

"Sorry, sweetheart, but Lan-shushu can't stay." Wei Ying mock pouted at his son. "He has a flight to catch later."

"Why?" A-Yuan asked, as he did all the time.

"He has to visit his family," Wei Ying answered.

"Oh…" A-Yuan's face fell. There was no doubt in Wei Ying's mind had the answer been anything else, he would have kept asking, but if there was one word a-Yuan understood better than anyone, it was 'family'. It didn't mean he liked it. "But… But I heard! I heard that we will have a party tonight! I cleaned my room, and I did a picture for teacher, and helped granny bake! I was the bestest and uncle said I could stay up extra long tonight 'cause then baba would live forever!"

"I didn't say forever," Wen Ning corrected him timidly, but neither of them paid attention to him, the poor soul. A-Yuan only heard what he wanted to hear, and Wei Ying was too busy making sure his heart didn't burst. He still sometimes couldn't quite believe how much he loved this child.

"Me too." It came unexpectedly from beside him, and when Wei Ying turned to look he found Lan Zhan looking almost as surprised as he felt. "I mean, I also usually stay up longer on Chuxi."

A-Yuan's smile eclipsed the sun. Lan Zhan returned it with an expression so impossibly soft that Wei Ying's heart almost did burst then.

"Pretty gege can stay, and his family can come too, and I will draw everyone a picture!" A-Yuan all but vibrated with bare excitement that Wei Ying felt bad that he had to chide him.

"A-Yuan, do we tell people what they can and can't do, or do we ask?" He had picked the gentlest way possible, but his son still hid his face in his uncle's neck, utterly dejected.

To be fair, Lan Zhan looked rather stricken himself. It was adorable to watch and Wei Ying… Wei Ying knew that no matter whatever feelings he might be harboring, he only came as a set with his son. There was no possible way of heaping that responsibility on another person from the get go, on top of everything else, and yet. And yet. Lan Zhan was regarding a-Yuan with such fondness that it did strange things to Wei Ying's heart, and just like that courage bloomed in Wei Ying's chest.

"How about a compromise? Lan Zhan," he asked carefully. "You still have a few hours left until you have to be at the airport, don't you? Would you… Would you like to come inside?"

"Yes, yes, yes! Please, pretty gege, pretty please." A-Yuan loved the idea, immediately reaching his arms out in silent demand to be held. Wei Ying could only watch as Wen Ning oh so carefully leaned forward and tightened his hold so that a-Yuan could safely launch himself into Lan Zhan's open, waiting arms. He bet Lan Zhan hadn't even noticed how he held them out in a response that had seemed completely automatic.

"A-Yuan," Wei Ying reprimanded him gently, doing everything he could to ignore the adorable pout that pressed into Lan Zhan's shoulder. It was difficult to do with his heart singing like that.

"I would hate to intrude," Lan Zhan replied hesitantly, his eyes not leaving a-Yuan for a second and Wei Ying felt his heart constrict.

"I don't think anyone would mind," Wen Ning said, smiling gently.

"It won't be an issue, Lan Zhan, really." Their eyes met. "We still have a lot to… catch up on."

There was a spark that darkened Lan Zhan's eyes briefly, something heavy settling in the air between the two of them. Chance had brought Lan Zhan back into his life, and Wei Ying wanted to hold on. In any way he was allowed to. As long as he was allowed to.

"And you could meet… You could meet my family." Warmth spread deep in Wei Ying's chest as the word 'family' echoed in his mind, before he added in a whisper. "If you like."

"Wei Ying…" Finally, after what felt like an entire eternity, Lan Zhan spoke, the softest of smiles spreading on his face, gentle as the first rays of the sun on a misty morning. "I would very much love to meet your family."

"Great!" Wei Ying felt the smile split his face from one ear to another and amidst the cheers of his child that echoed the ones in his heart and started towards the door that Wen Ning held open for him. "Come on in then! Let's give everyone the shock of their life that I brought home such a handsome man!"

"Wei Ying…" It was spoken as a reprimand but it sounded like a chuckle.

"Hi, handsome! You're Lan Zhan, right? I've heard all about you!" Somewhere in his memory a cheerful voice greeted the most beautiful youth that there ever was. "I'm Wei Wuxian. I'll let you call me Wei Ying."

The door fell shut to the sound of Wei Ying's laugh.

#vedrividia #wangxianLNY21 #*LNYfic21 #*LNYgifts21

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yooleestruck · 4 years ago

Text

in which lee rambles about how great writers are

I don’t really know what this is. I don’t know if now is the right time to do this, or a really bad time, or if it makes any sense, but I want to talk about it! I feel like a broken record saying ‘the writing matters most, the writing matters most’ but maybe I need to show what I mean by that? So, here is an attempt.

I’m sorry not all of these are the same length and not everyone is here, because every time I see that someone is a writer I do try to follow but I don’t always know/remember! Also I am weird about this sort of thing and don’t want to tag people in a monster-long post, so I’m just going to link. I also don’t want to make this a producers vs writers thing, it’s not, it’s just, when I say I notice writer-stuff, an explanation of what, specifically, I mean.

Writers have a style fingerprint. I’m sure someone with an actual creative writing or English background could describe it all academic-ly, but my ex-chemist ass is just going to call it a fingerprint.

My first game in Lovestruck was Starship Promise - I love Firefly, I’m a bisexual disaster scientist by education, it fit. But I had been REALLY put off by GIL when it first came out (this was back when they released stories in parts? And the heroine, which I will get to) and though I’d glanced at AFK, I mistrusted it after GIL and Medusa, who was who I was interested in, wasn’t out yet. So I resisted a LONG time. I finally picked up LS and SP and played it explicitly because a friend said, you need to give this another chance, for a list of specific reasons.

And when Atlas’s route came out, I read it a stupid number of times. I must have re-read his season 1 & 2 at least eight times apiece (he is still my most read route, despite the fact I have not read his last season because I want to leave the story open-ended) so when I read Neil Dresner’s route, I recognized the fingerprint. Not only that, when I was reading Jett and the episodes with the paint scene (YOU KNOW THE SCENE) came out, my breath caught with how lovely it was, a particular in-between moment and touch, and even though it wasn’t a phrase I had seen, the style of it, had me re-reading (because it was gorgeous) again and again from the log for like five minutes and I thought, “I bet Melissa wrote this” AND SHE DID.

Physical touch! (& in-betweens)

Melissa-grey has a particular way of writing about physical touch in very emotional moments that is very real and grounded and ironically the effect is just magical. It creates these so skillful “in between” moments, those little things that aren’t dialogue and aren’t metaphor but SHOW you that this closed off person is cracking for their little ray of sunshine. They are SO subtle and so beautiful, like, the heroine noticing the scent of a pillow, or a softening of an aborted hand movement. She sets up and executes these moments of physical touch as a conduit for emotional touch with characters who aren’t ready to admit he latter and it’s DELICIOUS. Those little in-betweens are what I live for in story - and it includes all the supporting cast moments, who swell up to make the world feel lived in, and balanced (I loathe love stories where no one else exists! That’s a recipe for disaster, people need networks) I noticed when she stopped writing, and because I missed it, I went and bought the entire Midnight Girl series, as well as Rated (I hope that is flattering and not creepy!) and that style of writing is so unique, that without KNOWING, I picked it up in four separate routes (noticed in Sev’s s1, too!)

Pacing (& friggen heartache)

Another fingerprint! Ripping your heart out! Arthoure has had me in tears, MULTIPLE TIMES and I get very grouchy about it every time because I am the least sentimental and romantic person that I know (I once MOVED STATES to avoid an ‘I love you’ conversation. I once said ‘yikes’ in response to an ‘I love you’ and I once broke up with someone because I thought he was going to propose. I’m a bitch) but I think it’s because of pacing! I know that producers play a role in that, but that actually makes it more impressive, because making each bit of story feel like it fits precisely the amount of space it needs when you don’t really get a say in how much space that is has got to take a MASSIVE amount of effort. Every little hint, every emotional beat, every character tell, they drop at a consistent build so the emotional payoff is just brutal (in a good, cathartic way?) every time a route makes me cry I wait and see and YEAH ITS ALWAYS ARTHOURE. The sweep and sentiment of Remy’s season 2 is unparalleled. Across Time is gutwrenching, and I actually stopped reading Renzei at one point because I was so emotional over it I had to like, LEGIT TAKE A BREAK to recover. Pacing and heartache. I have to stop and wonder - is it because the routes themselves are so gut-punching? OR is it because she knows how to wring every last emotional drop out of whatever story framework is handed to her? Because, Ezekiel’s villain costume is a bit silly (there I said it, it is) I get the cobra helmet shape in theory but in practice, ooof, but POINT BEING despite being skeptical I’d be able to take his story seriously as a result, I was hiccuping from crying so much (and I am gosh darn adult, in my thirties, with three degrees and a high-stress job at pretty major company. I DON’T CRY EASY)

Dialogue (& heroines!)

Xekstrin is the gosh damn master of dialogue. Clever, witty banter that doesn’t go where you expect it to, meandering but natural topic changes that are delightful to follow and feel real, and--special shoutout for this, okay--the navigation of viscerally important topics like consent, kink, self-worth, power in relationships, self-sacrifice, and apologies in a way that is not stilted or forced at all (listen, I know Viv & Lyris are the most recent and they are amazing but I remember this first hit me when I was reading Astraeus, and I spent half the route with my jaw on the floor going, oh shit, oh shit. The communication! The navigation of the complexity of emotion going on, chef’s kiss! Casual isn’t the right word, but, natural, maybe?). I don’t actually take that many screenshots of the app--it’s usually single lines that get me--but when I do, they are almost always conversations from one of her routes, because they’re so damn good, and often so unexpected, and yet always make such perfect sense for the characters involved. Dialogue is SO HARD OKAY. Actually try and transcribe a conversation sometime, it’s nuts how people talk vs how most people write people talking. Xekstrin also writes some of my absolute favorite MCs, and going back to fingerprints, I was reading Lyris s1 and right there in the first tavern scene, as we were following along with the heroine’s thoughts I went, ah, yes, I know who you belong to and I am SO EXCITED. Being able to give the heroine unique thoughts and quirks, to make her genuinely relatable, without overriding the necessary template of the genre dictates, is a skill all of its own. But I love her MCs! There is a beautiful balance of compassion, competence, and dash of bratty, wild, fun mischief. I can actually cheer for them. I can actually get behind them. I WANT the love interest to flop at their feet for who they are, not just because the story says so. And that comes from how the heroine’s thoughts are written, from her phrasing in conversations, how she sees situations, not just a producer saying ‘she is a strong lead who is self conscious about her ears and she’s nervous in the council meeting’ or whatever. I AM REALLY STRUGGLING to articulate this if you can’t tell from how long I have been blathering. Maybe this - the heroine is the same across every route, presumably, yes? Everyone has the same base. I NEVER question, when xekstrin is writing, why the love interest falls in love with her. Side note - I had hard written off GIL after a bad experience with the standalone app. I only read Aurora BECAUSE I learned she wrote it, and I would have SO MISSED OUT otherwise.

A complete aside in which Lee grumbles about heroines and not writers!

(Complete side vent: Often, the heroine is, if not a blank slate, a sort of collection of assigned traits, and she often remains so unless the story demands she become otherwise. Which is fine! I don’t personally, but I know a lot of folks self-insert, and so erring towards that makes sense. Almost all the otome I’ve played were originally written for a Japanese audience. When I played original Voltage games, starting back in 2014, I always had to remind myself - different culture, different culture, different culture, and it was not possible for me to relate to most of the heroines. I still enjoyed the stories, but I rarely cheered for the heroine’s romance, especially in some of the slice of life stories. I understood her, but I rarely wanted her to get with the love interest, I wanted her success to come in other ways! Another game company, Cybird, tried to ‘Americanize’ their heroine to IMO disastrous effect - it was such a stereotype, and made no sense since they didn’t also Americanize the context, so she come across as, frankly, ridiculous. And frankly, Voltage’s GIL heroine REEKED OF THAT. When they first posted her on social media I was legitimately annoyed about it, like could you lean into this more? I think not. So when I talk about being able to relate to and cheer for the heroine, it’s a big deal, because my blatant mistrust of Voltage and their ability to craft a heroine I could tolerate was a BIG factor in how long it took me to give Lovestruck a try. I was willing to tolerate it in translated stories, I was so skeptical of -en only ones.)

Metaphors (& balance)

literacouture writes beautiful metaphors for connection between humans! I’m really bad at keeping track of who writes what, but I purposefully kept an eye out on tumblr after reading Cal’s route, because there were some lines that were pure poetry, and I wanted to keep an eye out for more. It is HARD to spin metaphors prettily without delving into trite, painful, purple prose cringe territory, and it’s navigated beautifully in Cal’s route. There’s a balance between those spin-out moments and things that are tangible and anchoring and make it feel authentic and unique to the two characters involved, instead of just ‘I am trying to make this sound romantic and this is a romantic phrase so here it is’. That balance is really necessary. You NEED the mundane alongside the metaphor or it doesn’t feel authentic. Also. Trying really hard to write this without throwing any authors or producers under the bus, but...listen. I love Sin with Me. But the world logic (or LACK THEREOF) drives me up a wall. I don’t read Cal because of his character traits or sprite or (sigh) his story. I read him because literacouture writes a beautiful romance.

So anyway...

There are more! When I am less tired and don’t have meetings, I will try and write them up (Please know there are so many routes I love, and so many things I do recognize across chapters! I don’t even HAVE words for what theivorytowercrumbles accomplished with Helena’s story not to mention how much I adore Cyprin, SummerLightning’s handling of Onyx’s past relationship was so deftly done when it could have so quickly become ‘milk abuse for plot’ and joidecombat gave Sev a fresh, mischievous energy and navigated the dream/reality line with SUCH skill, and so on and so on.)

I’ve written a lot of reviews. And I try to give nods where I feel they’re due - sometimes, it really is obvious that the whole team’s work came together to makes something great, the world, the plot, the arc, the art, the words, and the music all fit into place in a well-crafted tour de force. And sometimes one piece or another is lacking, and I’ll admit I’ve left some...less than kind reviews to that end (I try and soften it, because I know there are humans on the other side of everything, but I’ve been harsh more than once with my opinions). I’ve read routes with plots that made me want to tear my hair out because I DO value consistency and logic to a degree, even if I’m going to accept at face value that, say, space travel is a thing or demons turn to sand when stabbed.

In the end, these are romance stories. So I will let a lot slide when it comes to plot. What sells a story are the words - not the outline.

And if Voltage doesn’t believe that - just remember that Hamlet existed long, long before Shakespeare wrote it. His was the version that lasted, because the people liked it best. The plot, the world, the characters, they all existed a hundred times over. Even just look at fan translations of manga. Why do people keep translating, even if someone else has? Because the words someone else picked don’t do the story justice.

I don’t know. I’m talking in circles because I don’t know my own thesis!

Maybe it’s just - the worlds these stories in are nice. But when I say I’m a fan of something, the premise is like. 10%. The rest is the writing.

#lovestruck #lovestruck voltage #lovestruck writers appreciation week #this isn't exactly one of the prompts #but #it's in the spirit of it #brevity may be the soul of wit #but that just means I'm not very witty I suppose #this is not a complaining post #except for maybe one section where I go off on heroines COUGH #but it's flagged

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arrantsnowdrop · 5 years ago

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The Hardships of Love - Aragorn x Reader (angst/fluff)

Request: "...the reader is a dunedain ranger like aragorn and they're very good friends. one day they're talking and the topic of love comes up and they're both sorta upset at their luck for falling for elves. the reader reveals she is/was in love with haldir but sorta ran from that romance because it was doomed (due to the difference in races)"

Tags: @subtle-sunrise

Warnings: angst (break ups and sadness as a result), 2,335 words

A/N: The lovely @subtle-sunrise gave me several ideas about how to finish this request, I chose to go the route of the reader and Aragorn bonding/perhaps falling a little in love with each other. You can choose to read this as platonic or romantic, it's deinfitely up to your interpretation. I LOVED THIS REQUEST UGH I would also love to write more Aragorn stuff bc he's hella cool so lemme know if you are interested, otherwise enjoy :)

The Trollshaws had always been a dangerous place, filled with Stone-trolls who came down from the north looking for people to snack on. Luckily, most of them stayed within the confines of the woods, only eating those dumb enough to trespass on their territory.

However, for the past month or so, the Trolls had been venturing out of the woods, terrorizing the many villagers and halflings who lived on the East-West Road. The situation had escalated to the point where several townsfolk got together and asked the Rangers of the North to intervene.

In (Y/n)’s mind, their plea for help was indicative of the severity of the situation; under normal circumstances, most people were too afraid of the Rangers to even mention them in conversation, let alone willingly talk to them.

You’d been sent out from Rivendell with Aragorn to diffuse the situation by whatever means you saw fit. Though you did not want the confrontation to escalate to violence, you knew it was nearly impossible to bargain with a Troll.

The two of you had ended up fighting a cohort of twenty or so Trolls, killing a few and chasing the rest back into the Trollshaws. You’d returned to the town you’d chased them out of to help dispose of the corpses and offer suggestions on how to deter the Trolls in the future (“Building some fences would not hurt,” you’d said sarcastically, grinning as Aragorn stifled a laugh).

The sun was already beginning to sink beneath the horizon by the time you and Aragorn had begun your trek back to Rivendell. You’d both agreed to travel for an hour or so before setting up camp and getting some much needed sleep; you’d hopefully return to Lord Elrond’s domain sometime tomorrow afternoon.

The ride was almost completely silent, save for the sounds of your horses’ hooves hitting the dirt road and the crickets chirping in the woods around you. You were both extremely tired, and when Aragorn noticed a small patch of moss nestled between a cluster of trees, you’d gladly agreed to stop.

Aragorn was beginning to light a fire in the middle of the small grove, and you were making sure the horses’ reins were tightly secured to a fallen branch. You tossed them both some carrots from a sack you’d brought along with you, then turned back to where Aragorn was piling wood onto a steady orange flame. You grinned, relishing in the warm feeling the fire provided.

“Thank you, Aragorn,” you murmured, sitting down across from him and holding your hands up to the flames. He hummed in reply. It was early fall, and though the cooler air allowed you to fight without producing copious amounts of sweat, it was now too chilly at night for your liking. Aragorn looked up and noticed you shivering slightly.

“Would you like a blanket, (Y/n)?” he asked, gesturing to where your bags sat behind him. You shook your head and Aragorn chuckled, standing up to grab one anyways.

“Aragon, that’s not necessary,” you whined as he rummaged through your bag.

“If you catch a cold, the Elves back in Rivendell will tease you relentlessly for the rest of the week,” he replied as he walked over to you, blanket in hand. “I’m saving you from that rather unlikable fate.”

You laughed, grabbing the blanket and draping it over yourself.

“Thank you for sparing me from certain Elven humiliation, then,” you said, noticing the corners of Aragorn’s mouth tilting upwards into a small smile.

You’d never understood why Aragorn, or Strider as he was more commonly known, had a reputation for being serious and unfriendly. You’d known him since you were a teenager; he’d been your mentor and close companion as you trained to become a Ranger. You were used to seeing him smile and laugh, though it seemed the majority of the common folk thought he was incapable of doing so.

“Would you like some bread?” Aragorn asked, carrying his own bag closer to the fire. You squinted at him in the dim lighting.

“If it’s Lembas bread, I don’t want it,” you replied bluntly. Aragorn chuckled, knowing far too well your hatred for Elven Way bread.

“Luckily, this is sourdough,” he said, grinning as your eyes lit up. “It’s probably stale at this point, but-”

“Throw me a chunk of that,” you interrupted, gesturing to the loaf of bread he had procured from his pack. He ripped off a sizable piece and threw it over the fire, laughing as you caught it in your mouth.

“Elrond would most definitely not approve of that behavior,” he remarked, ripping off a piece of bread for himself and tossing it in his mouth. You rolled your eyes and groaned.

“The other day, he felt the need to lecture me on my dining etiquette,” you said, grimacing at the memory. “Apparently, not knowing the difference between the different sized forks is absolutely disgraceful.”

“Ah yes, the classic salad versus dining fork conversation,” Aragorn grinned. “I myself have received that same lecture on several occasions.” You laughed.

“I’ve always find it funny how when I visit Lothlórien, the Elves only ask about my duties as a Ranger, but in Rivendell, they only comment on my lack of proper manners,” you noted, watching Aragorn simultaneously laugh and choke on his mouthful of bread. He glared at you as you chuckled at him.

"You must never repeat this,” he said seriously, “but the Elves of Rivendell have a reputation for being the most judgemental and fussy in Middle Earth.”

You laughed loudly, nodding in agreement as you popped the last bit of bread in your mouth. It was not very filling, but over the years you’d learned that some food was always much better than none at all.

“Speaking of Lothlórien, how are the Elves there doing?” Aragorn asked, referencing your visit there a few weeks ago. You’d just returned from the other side of the Misty Mountains when Elrond had sent you and Aragorn out to deal with the Troll problem.

“They’re doing well, Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn seem to be in good spirits,” you said, a little too softly for Aragorn’s liking. His brows furrowed in concern.

“How about Haldir?” he asked, noticing you shift uncomfortably.

For the last decade or so, you and Haldir had been in an unofficial relationship. The first time you accompanied Elrond to Lothlórien, you’d managed to capture the blonde Elf’s attention. Since then, you spent most of your frequent trips there with him, writing letters to each other between visits.

You had always thought you were unworthy of his affections. He was so wise and thoughtful, his many centuries of life having influenced his placid demeanor. He was also kind, happy to spend much of his time ensuring the safety of his fellow Elves. Meanwhile, you were a hot-tempered Ranger who was known in the West for being a harbinger of danger.

“Haldir is, uh, well he’s good,” you replied, purposefully avoiding Aragorn’s gaze.

What you weren’t telling him was that you’d ended your relationship with Haldir during your last visit. Of course you still cared for him, very deeply as a matter of fact, but that was the exact reason you had decided to take a step back.

“(Y/n)?” Aragorn asked softly. You nodded, still not looking up from the fire flickering in front of you.

“(Y/n), look at me.”

You bit your lip and shook your head, not wanting him to see the tears threatening to fall down your face.

Silence from Aragorn. You focused on the crackling of the fire, the way the soft orange light danced across the ground. It was a little mesmerizing, and honestly, you were more than happy to be entranced by the lambent flames; it was a welcome distraction from the sadness that had begun to permeate your consciousness.

You snapped out of your daze as soon as you heard Aragorn shuffling from across the fire. You finally looked up, watching as he stood and walked around the fire, sitting down next to you.

“I do not know what troubles your mind,” he murmured, gaze locked on the fire in front of him, “but I know the importance of companionship in sadness, and I’ll gladly offer you comfort if you want it.”

He turned his head, eyes filled with compassion and concern. You felt the tears you’d been trying so hard to contain begin to fall down your face, and you let out a very shaky sob.

Aragorn leaned forward immediately, wrapping you in a strong embrace. You didn’t know how long you spent weeping into his shoulder, him whispering soothing words in your ear as he rubbed your back.

After what seemed like hours, your sobs reduced to small sniffles. You pulled back, exhaling loudly and burying your face in your hands.

“I’m sorry,” you said meekly.

“Don’t be,” Aragorn replied, hands moving from your shoulders to your forearms.

“I told him we couldn't be together anymore,” you whispered, focusing on his thumbs rubbing circles on your skin.

“Ah, then it’s my fault you’re crying,” Aragorn said regretfully. “I’m sorry for bringing it up, (Y/n), I truly am.”

“No, no it’s not your fault,” you reassured him. “It’s better this way anyways. I’d rather cry with someone I trust than break down in front of the rest of the Rangers or the Elves.”

“I don’t know if our Elven acquaintances know how to manage the more intense human emotions,” Aragorn chuckled. You grinned, wiping the remaining tears from your cheeks with the palms of your hands.

“I just, I couldn't do it anymore,” you said, struggling to find the right words. “I felt guilty every time we were together.”

“Why?” Aragorn asked genuinely.

“Because he’s an Elf,” you groaned, flopping backwards dramatically. Aragorn grinned as you stretched out on the mossy ground.

“Like, he’s basically immortal, but everyone knows Elves can die if they experience really deep loss or sadness,” you said, “and then Haldir told me he loved me, and I just couldn’t help but feel ashamed.”

You sat up and looked at him, an unreadable expression on his face.

“I don’t want to be the reason he dies,” you said softly. “I mean, I’m definitely mortal. Hopefully I’ll live a long life and die when I’m old, but with this gig, who knows.” You gestured to your sword, lying behind you on the ground.

“And then he’s just so, so important in Lothlórien, especially now, with Sauron gaining power and all that,” you said softly. “Staying together could result in me unwillingly killing one of their strongest defenders. I couldn’t do that to him, to them.”

“I understand,” Aragorn said softly. “I understand you completely.”

You looked up at him, confusion evident on your face. He sighed, looking at the fire next to him.

“I ended things with Arwen for the same reason,” he clarified, grabbing a stray twig and throwing it haphazardly at the flames. You gasped, inching closer to him and setting your hand on his thigh.

“Aragorn, I’m so sorry,” you said softly, easily detecting the pain in his eyes.

“You don’t have to be, I’m fine,” he said, turning to you and giving you a very unconvincing smile. “But I do understand where you’re coming from, it’s hard to let an Elf love you knowing that you could easily cause their demise.”

You nodded, leaning over to rest your head in his lap.

“I’m still sorry, I know how much you care for her,” you murmured. Aragorn rested his hand on your head, mindlessly running his fingers through your knotted hair.

“I think we’ll both recover,” he replied. “Besides, it’s not like she was the only being I loved. There are plenty of people in my life I care for.”

You looked up, blushing when you saw he was looking down at you adoringly.

“Does Elrond know you’ve stopped pursuing his daughter?” you asked in an attempt to change the subject.

“Probably,” he replied. “We haven’t talked about it yet. I don’t know whether he’ll be pleased or angry at me.”

“Pleased? Why would he be pleased?”

“He was always upset with me for courting Arwen,” he sighed.

“That’s stupid,” you huffed, causing Aragorn to chuckle. “You’re a great person, Aragorn, Elrond’s standards for Arwen’s suitors are intentionally set impossibly high, that way he’ll never have to part with her.”

“Thank you,” Aragorn said with a small smile.

“No, thank you,” you said.

“Why?”

“For letting me talk about Haldir, I guess,” you clarified. “There aren’t many people who understand what it’s like courting an Elf, and how unworthy they make you feel.”

“Hey,” Aragorn said softly, tilting your head in his lap so you met his gaze . “You are not unworthy of Haldir’s affections, or anyone’s affections for that matter. You’re one of the kindest and bravest people I know, do not be so hard on yourself.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, face flushing at his compliment. “You are also worthy of Arwen’s love, though I know why you feel as if you aren't.”

Aragon nodded thoughtfully, eyes darting to his bag lying on the ground.

“We should get ready to sleep,” he said. You nodded and yawned, suddenly remembering how exhausted you were.

You sat up, wrapping your blanket tighter around yourself as Aragorn grabbed his own worn quilt.

“Is there anything in your bag that you want?” he asked, chuckling as you shook your head and stretched out on the ground.

You smiled as you felt him lie down next to you, sleeping side by side as you’d done so many times before. You turned over so you were facing him and buried your face in the soft fabric of his tunic.

“Good night, Aragorn,” you mumbled, surrendering to your own drowsiness.

You had dozed off before you could feel Aragorn press his lips to your forehead and whisper a good night, draping his arm over your body before falling asleep himself.

#aragorn x reader #aragorn x oc #aragorn fanfiction #aragorn #lord of the rings #fluff #angst #oneshot #lotr fanfic #lord of the rings fanfiction

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pumpkinpaix · 5 years ago

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Hello! and PSA

*waves* hi everyone! so uh, I’ve kind of had a bit of a surge in followers recently, and I thought I would make a bit of a PSA/intro post with a bit more targeted info than my about page.

anyways, I’m cyan! statistically speaking, you are probably here for one of the following reasons:

my fic

my meta

my gifs

my translation

all of the above

this is pretty much an mdzs blog on main these days, but I also rb a lot of other misc things because I have never been good at keeping my interests separate. it’s also my personal blog, so expect some of that? i am very all or nothing ahaha. my opinions change very quickly as I process new information, so like, something I said last week or yesterday might be different now! I’ve seen several people going through some of my older posts, and I’m just like oh dear, I said a lot of things six months ago that I no longer vibe with. /o\ please keep that in mind as you go diving in my blog!

i don’t have a BYF or DNI policy, but I reserve the right to block anyone for any reason because this is a personal blog first and foremost, and I do need to be better about setting my boundaries and curating my own online space! on that same token, you are free to follow, unfollow, block, whatever, even if we’re mutuals. <3

you’re free to come talk to me in my inbox or dms, but please be aware that there’s a very high chance I will never get back to you /o\ it isn’t personal!! I am just very mentally ill and have many difficulties with keeping up social interactions or talking to people.

in the interest of trying to be more open about myself, my brain, and what that means for me in an online/fandom space, I’m gonna do a boatload of mental health talk under the cut (or, if you’re looking at this on my blog proper or somewhere where the cut doesn’t display, it starts right after this paragraph), including mentions of self-harm/thoughts of specific self-harm etc, just so you are warned! I’ve been thinking recently that it’s good to try and take steps towards being more open about my issues, both for my own sake and others’. It’s long, because one of the fun things about my mental illness is that I am hyperverbal ahahaha (if that... wasn’t already obvious orz)

so if you’ve read pfmmpd, you can kind of get a sense of what I’m working with. a lot of how i wrote lwj was drawn directly from shit happening in my own brain, but like? dial that up from the specific issues that lwj had in that fic and apply it unilaterally across the board to almost anything you can think of.

I hesitate to describe my OCD as debilitating, but only because my specific cocktail of compulsions and anxieties and triggers push me to be hyperachieving and hyperfunctional. I consider myself pretty fortunate (?) in that regard. on paper, you could never tell how absolutely batshit my internal landscape is! which is very good for me practically in that I can hold down a job, keep scholarships, graduate with honors, have good prospects for my future, hold onto relationships (usually yikes) etc. but the fact of the matter is, I’m like. oh boy.

to give you a peek, here’s a non-exhaustive list of things that have triggered me to varying degrees of severity within the last like, week or so:

my dog

a chinese folk song

my mother reading a chinese haiku to me written by a young gay man

a chinese reader of my fic lovingly and gently giving me a history lesson on china and on mdzs while praising me

stepping on a piece of snow that didn’t collapse in the precise way i expected it to

writing meta

reading meta

ruminating on my triggers (honestly, I played myself)

seeing a twitter thread going around tumblr with decent information but the OP is someone who was exceedingly cruel to a good friend of mine

visiting my grandmother’s grave

deciding to visit my grandmother’s grave

discussing the concept of cuddling my partner whom i love and have been with for four years

self-harming (truly the height of irony, being triggered into self-harm and then getting triggered by the result of the self-harm hahahahahaha)

dropping off a package

trying to explain queer-coding to my parents

talking about stressors in my life related to covid19

having a very pleasant conversation with a person i admire

editing my translation

the fact that the “close” button on my accessibility sidebar on the translation website is the wrong color

choosing between eating all the shiitake mushrooms in my soup and purposefully giving myself a bad reaction or throwing one out and wasting food

thinking about playing a fun game with my partner and a mutual friend

my mom asking me to take a photo of some tea for her

my mom asking my opinion on a photo she was photoshopping

animal crossing

writing this fucking post HAHAHAHA

like!! it goes on!! endlessly! obviously, these triggers are not simply “bad” things. the chinese folk song and the haiku were both really beautiful and i love them! but I did spend a good amount of time curled up on my floor in the dark sobbing as i played the song on repeat. the haiku was one of the last straws that ended up with me screaming and crying and hurting myself. the snow??? like wtf the snow thing. I stepped on the snow and it felt wrong and my brain just started screaming SMASH YOUR KNEECAP. ???? (I didn’t, for the record, and I would never.) I love my partner very much! I love my friends very much, and my mother, and my grandmother etc. my triggers are infinite, unpredictable, and bizarre.

I’m saying all of this because I want to be clear that MDZS/CQL fandom specifically triggers me on a daily basis, sometimes very very badly. this is just a fact! it is no one’s fault! I have decided it is worth it for me to stay anyways. it is impossible for me to request people tag for certain things because I myself have no idea what my triggers are until I encounter them. It’s like a fun mystery boss encounter! sometimes it’s low level and i’m well-equipped to handle it. other times it’s a one-hit KO. We just don’t know! there are lots of very cool content creators in this fandom that I can’t follow because it would make my dash that much more high stakes. the original source canon material triggers me! all the events leading up to Lotus Cove massacre? I was shaking at work for three hours after consuming it for the first time.

Meta specifically is something I know a lot of people like me for, but it’s 100% the most triggering activity I participate in for this fandom. like, that suibian meta post I wrote that’s currently going around? Probably took me four or five hours of concentrated effort to write because I was compulsively panicking and rewriting and editing and panicking more and qualifying and editing and qualifying some more and then debating whether I should post it or not and then fighting with myself about my wording and then immediately regretting it and then every time someone commented on it (regardless of positive or negative!) my anxiety spiked. I started a reply to a response on that post and had to stop after a few minutes because I was already starting to trigger myself over it.

this is actually a pretty good outcome when it comes to meta! I recognized that I was hurting myself before I got any further, and I only spent like, five hours on it! it was good exposure therapy for me! the bad outcome is. well. bad, as you might imagine lmao.

I like writing meta. I like talking to people about it too! I like participating in fandom, I like writing, I like translating, I like all of these things. they’re just also really hard for me! there’s a couple meta requests sitting in my inbox right now that I want to get to, but it might take me like. a long time because of. you know! *gestures* Everything takes me a long time. that first chapter of the translation took me literally five months from beginning the project to posting a final edited version. It’s just over 1k words. D8

I try really hard to be chill and kind in public and I largely think I succeed on the kind part (I hope!). If you thought I had even an ounce of chill before this, perhaps I have disabused of that notion entirely now lmao. I’m not saying this for pity, but like? just so we all know what we’re dealing with here. I don’t want anyone to get hurt when I don’t engage with them or feel snubbed if I never reply to them. and also like, hey, if someone relates it’s like hooray, high fave, solidarity! we’re not alone in this world! or maybe this will help someone understand OCD a little better! I don’t know. I hope this post is a positive thing. BUT! I’ve spent three hours on it already, and i’m definitely starting to compulsively spiral, so instead of going back and editing it over and over, I’m just going to post it. thank you everyone for your understanding! I hope you enjoy your time on my blog! (*´▽`*)

#/#//#///#////#/////#personal #psa #cyan gets too deep in the weeds #HA HA HA.#can't believe i'm using that tag on a personal post except like. of course i am #hello everyone are you ready for some cyan dlc?#well you're getting it #im anxious about this thing because i'm anxious about everything but!#we are doing exposure therapy this year!!#even if the world is burning down around us i can still try to confront my problems!!!#about

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aelaer · 5 years ago

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[1/2] Now this is an actual ask as in asking for help. 👀 I have a problem with Steve and Tony. I spent too much time too early on reading anti/not-friendly post-CW fics about 'Team Cap', and because of that I have been unable to see Tony as a flawed human or Steve as a good person. It's a pattern I've become too familiar with, and even recent stories are often going into that sense. I have been trying for some time now to do something about it, but either the method was bad, or I couldn't

(I tagged a couple people in this post – if you were tagged, the question directed to you is wayyyy at the bottom! Feel free to ignore of course.)

You really hit me with a doozy with this ask. I might offend someone for not thinking the exact same way as them with… everything this topic entails… Steve, Tony, anti-fics. Followers from last year know what happened last time I talked about poor and OOC characterization in fanfic, lmao. Beware The Easily Offended! This Is A Critical Thinking Of Your Hobby Zone! I Am Being Critical Of Specific Types of MCU Fanfic!

Please don’t click the read more button if you can’t handle an opinion that might not match yours. Really. I’m fine with discussing different opinions in a mature manner but if you have issues with people saying they don’t like a specific type of plot, this post is not for you. (The read more button doesn’t appear on the original post for followers using the mobile app, but it works on desktop and in all reblogs. If you don’t see a cut and don’t want to read, just skip it, please).

Yeah. Okay. Moving on. Can’t say folks weren’t warned.

I’ve had this in my drafts for several weeks because of the abuse I got the last time I wrote something critical about certain plot points used in fanfic. I was definitely a bit reluctant to look at this specific topic from an analytical and critical look as I remembered that, but hey, it’s really easy for a coward to use a sockpuppet account and throw abuse. It’s harder to be a minority voice with stark opinions contrasting the popular trend. I’m okay with having a minority opinion amongst the MCU fandom.

(PS - you’re welcome to disagree with my opinions, so long as you’re respectful about it. Remember there are individuals behind the screens!)

Concerning Character Flaws

So the thing about really well-written characters is that they are flawed in some manner. Anyone who thinks Tony or Steve exist without flaws – and I mean real flaws, like arrogance, believing they’re always right, short tempers, and other *real* character flaws that both of these characters have – well, if they don’t think they exist with these flaws, how well do they know the character?

You don’t have to know a character well to be a fan of said character – there’s no rules about that – but if you’re going to write fanfic, and that fanfic entails the character you love against a character you don’t particularly like, I’d say any writer looking to do anything resembling a good job would do their due diligence in figuring out the strengths and weaknesses of both characters before writing the characters themselves. These mental lists of characteristics should be equal for both characters. No, “good abs” is not a character strength if you have no physical aspects in the other character strength column. You don’t have to like a character to still write them well.

Even professionals don’t follow this rule when, say, shows get new writers or comics get different writers, so you might consider me silly expecting those dabbling in fan fiction. But yeah, if an author wants me to take a story seriously as something with quality, I expect the characters to resemble themselves in some manner.

(This level of resemblance varies when you purposefully choose for the protagonist to be evil, be in a completely different time period, etc, but authors who do this *well* still get core personality traits solid, even if morality is out the window or the profession is entirely different. I have a lot of examples from the Sherlock fandom of total AUs that pull this off well – haven’t read nearly enough AUs in the MCU to have a good collection here).

But a resemblance of character, of capturing the three-dimensionality of a character, is what anti-fics simply fail to achieve. The characters they’re anti against usually suffer cases of Flanderization, if they’re not completely out of character altogether in showing traits that were never displayed in the canon, ever. I don’t know why anyone would be interested in such stories, myself, and remain baffled at their popularity. Is there some sort of enjoyment in seeing such a 2D rendition of a character in what is otherwise meant as a serious work and provides absolutely no sense of proper conflict between two characters? Not for me; it immediately takes me out of the story and when it gets too much, I abandon the story. It’s just not enjoyable for me. Turning a canon protagonist into a strawman is just lazy writing and offers nothing to the writer’s favorite, preferred character.

Concerning Steve’s and Tony’s Flaws

Every real human being has some sort of personality flaw that is decidedly unattractive. Some people are really good at showing it very rarely (and are some of the best human beings), but with these two characters we see them at their greatest heights and lowest of lows. Ironically, they actually share a lot of the same flaws, but display them in different manners in canon:

Both men believe they are the best man for the job and will do it without consulting someone who could actually fight against it - or go completely against them. Tony with Ultron is the easy example here. He’s the smartest man in the world and can tackle the issue of protecting it on its own. Steve, same issue, and his job is “helping Bucky”. *He’s* the one who can handle Bucky, the only one who can handle him - big thing in both WS and CW. If both of them had utilized their friends and allies a lot more, a lot of issues could have been avoided.

Both men are sometimes hypocritical. Steve promotes teamwork in all his speeches but again with the Bucky situation. Just… everything Bucky, man. Tony signs the Accords and immediately goes against them with what he gives to Peter, who most assuredly did not sign them (tangent: if he HAD joined the Avengers at the end of Homecoming, I have no idea how that would have gone since Peter would have had to reveal his identity to the UN and then there’s the whole ‘still a minor’ thing, and yeah, Homecoming’s end scene just makes me go nuts). But anyway, their occasional hypocrisy is one of the most realistic aspects of them because most human beings are hypocritical sometimes.

Both men are sometimes arrogant. Tony’s self-explanatory with his genius-playboy-philanthropist-billionaire. One thing he does not suffer from is low self-esteem in regards to his abilities. His arrogance comes from his genius. Steve’s arrogance lies more in his deep-seeded belief that he is on the moral high ground – and one reason I think a lot of people dislike him so much, because moral superiority is very much a faux pas in this day and age for some millennials and many Gen Z folk. He has a very, very solid sense of what is right and what is wrong, and that rubs some folks the wrong way. Tony is more morally fluid – but he is not by any means immoral.

Both of them have a really solid list of strengths as well. As this ask specifically is looking to find the good in Steve, I specifically Googled pro-Steve articles for you to click at your leisure (and one with both). If you need to go back to canon, I highly recommend rewatching The First Avenger and The Winter Soldier, which introduces Steve brilliantly and then lets Steve grow further in the second film.

(Note: I actually prefer Tony to Steve in terms of personal favoritism, but how a very loud segment of Tony fans have treated other characters has led me to be more vocal about the strengths of others, especially Steve and Wanda. So Tony might be in my top 5, but mean-spirited Tony fans have moved me to be a champion of other characters, if only to show other fans that there are indeed Tony fans that do like the other characters and treat them – and their fans – with respect).

Bringing Balance (to the Universe…) Fanfic-Style

This addresses the second part of your ask in regards to the fanfics. And this is where I started running into trouble, too, mostly because, well, just how many Stephen and Steve fics are there? Yeah, exactly. Stephen’s my main guy. So I did some research, outsourcing, and reading.

Here’s two I knew of before cuz Stephen’s in them in some capacity:

Identity Theft by KitKat992 - it stars Peter and both Tony and Steve play integral parts from what I recall. Good story too, very engaging.

A Dysfunctional Senior Year (series) by ApolloLoki97 - this also stars Peter and has a large Team As Family aspect, so it shows the entire Avengers team as just decent people. My favorite part is naturally part 3 because Stephen comes in that one, haha.

And to find other stories, I went into the Anti-Accords tag. It was nice to find fics that didn’t have such a love of hypocritical authoritarianism. Aannyyyyway.

Making Sense of Chaos by SparkedtoLife - mind the tags. Seriously, it’s heavy duty. Yet another Peter fic because he’s way more popular than my favorite character, qq. Lots of Netflix Marvel characters too! Anyway, deals with not only Tony and Steve really well (and has a different dynamic with Tony that isn’t IronDad, so that was a nice change of pace), it also deals with the Accords situation very realistically. And none of those are even main plot points. If you can handle the very serious, sensitive subject that is the main plot point, I highly recommended it. It’s a very masterfully done work.

Atlas by nanasekei - Stony. Treats all characters with respect and both Tony and Steve as three-dimensional, flawed humans with some serious self doubts. Also highly agree with the author that Thaddeus Ross sucks and is basically one of the biggest people to blame for Everything Going To Shit.

Homecoming by an orphaned account - Some Stucky. This is a lovely one-shot of things I basically wanted to happen when the team got together again but didn’t. Sigggghhh. Everyone is definitely in character in this one, traumas and healing and all. And look, another person realizes that trusting Ross is a really horrible idea.

Locks Not Replaced by Riverdaughter - first this writer has a Tolkien-based username so yay. Anyway, the fic starts off by Tony realizing that he almost killed Steve during the fight with his repulsors, and it was only Bucky that stopped him. Do people seriously think he’d survive a shot to the face with that power? This is one reason the ‘Steve tried to kill Tony’ people piss me the fuck off. What do you think those repulsors shoot, fucking rainbows? Honestly, guys. Anyway, mini rant over. This fic is great. Author comes in with a Cap favoritism but treats Tony well, and honestly Tony turning a blind eye to everything and ignoring Ross is what I like to think happened in canon (he clearly dislikes the guy). And also I love the Robin Hood parallels. Love love love. I think this fic is my favorite of the ones listed in this section.

Meeting Your Heroes by Riverdaughter - naturally after reading that fic I went to explore more and found this gem. She’s not incorrect in saying Tony wasn’t a good mentor at the beginning - I think he had his own growth after Peter’s actions in Homecoming especially (though even through Homecoming he was trying, just… not always successfully lmao). Anyway love these two together. It’s great.

Photograph by slytherclaw420 - A scene we deserved in Endgame and didn’t get. Sigh. Definite IronDad feels here. Hopeful Steve, rebuilding of a friendship.

And uh, an honorable mention of sorts:

Balancing the Scales by MoonFire1 - I’m not recommending this fic for good characterization or plot. It really doesn’t have either. The fic was written in retaliation for the nasty Tony fans completely trashing Steve’s character. You should only read this if you want to see the argument from “the other side” and if you want to see an anti-Tony fic like you’ve seen anti-Steve fics. Don’t harass the author though. This is presented as a counterargument to anti-Steve fiction, for those interested to read the other sides arguments. I don’t like the nature of the fic, but I loathe that “not Steve friendly” has 30 fucking pages of works with tens of thousands of kudos, so one anti-Tony fic (with a comparatively small three pages under that tag) really doesn’t compare. Ugh. I hate the anti culture in this fandom so much. Loathe it. It’s such a nasty energy! Why would you indulge in such negativity? But as I’ve mentioned before, I appreciate authors aware enough to tag it so I can avoid it. I wish that part of fandom culture didn’t exist, but well, can’t change it. Just can criticize the fuck out of it on my blog. Maybe encourage people to think less one-sided in the process if I’m lucky.

But there’s probably more good characterization Steve fics to be found, so I am forcefully recruiting two people via tag:

If you’re looking to dabble into Stony fics with good-guy-Steve, if anyone would know of any, I’d imagine it’d be @babywarg.

You don’t know this person, but @cairistiona7 has actually known me the longest of anyone here on tumblr (half my life! HALF! She even knows my real name :P She betaed a LOTR work of mine a decade ago I ended up never fully publishing… thanks again for all your help there…). Anyway, she’s a big Bucky fan, and Bucky friendships is the best thing. So if anyone would know any wholesome Bucky and Steve stories, it’d be her. (Or really I’d take any of your recs, Cair, as I’ll probably enjoy them as well).

I hope this was helpful to you md, and that I didn’t piss off too many of my followers in the process of answering this lol.

#mdcbd #tony stark critical #steve rogers critical #meta #the sokovia accords #character analysis #tony stark #steve rogers #peter parker #since he's in a lot of the fics #fic rec #ask #answered #anti culture

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thatwritingho · 6 years ago

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offdensen for the sexcanons??

YES THESE WERE SO FUN TO THINK UP THANK YOU!!!

tagging @atoenjeru who asked for this in a comment

Man oh man

Behind that refined appearance and casual apathy, this dude is a huge perv

Like foreal

He’s the type to steal your worn panties and keep them in the inner breast pocket of his suit (right next to his heart) while he’s working

I’m sure all of you are wondering if he fucks you in his office

And I’m here to tell you that he absolutely 100% does

I mean, he’s a busy man, he doesn’t have time to make a trip to the bedroom every time he wants some pussy

Probs like 60% of your sexy times are in his office

Leaves the door unlocked tho because he lowkey wants Dethklok to walk in on you two

Lots and lots of tipsy sex, he’s always offering you a glass of wine or brandy

Will pour wine on your tits so he can lick it off

You know when Beyonce poured that super expensive bottle of champagne in a hot tub?

Yeah, that’s gonna happen, and he’s gonna dick you down in said hot tub immediately after

Biggest god damn tease in the world seriously

He’s super handsy and is always always touching you

Dude is riskier than you would expect because he’s real confident in his ability to get away with shit

Like he’ll grope your boobs or ass while in a room full of people when he knows no one is looking

Or finger you underneath the table during meetings

Or have you ride him while he’s on a super important phone call

Or even sneak you under his desk and have you blow him while he’s talking to someone else in the room

You get major brownie points for giving him easy access, loves when you go commando and wear a skirt or dress

TALL HEELS

Loves when you ride him in big tall heels Cardi B would be proud

GO BRALESS TOO

Will purposefully set the temp in the entirety of Mordhaus a few degrees lower so it’s cold enough for him to see your nipples get hard through your shirt

Sneaky bastard

Wear a butt plug around casually and flash it to him a few times through the day, he’ll fuck you like a god damn animal that night

And if you wear one of those little discreet vibes too?

He’ll stop whatever he’s doing, pull you into the nearest closet, and make you scream for him so loud the whole place will know what you two are up to

He really only cares if the band sees you fucking

Doesn’t give two shits about the Klokateers most of them dont live too long anyways so why does it matter what they see

So many Klokateers have seen you fuckin

Or just seen you naked

Charles likes to show you off, so sometimes he’ll purposefully call for one of them while he’s balls deep, and just all nonchalant give them whatever order he has while you’re writhing underneath him

And idk where this came from but I’ve always had the head canon that he would fuck you in a church

Right up on the alter like a true god damn heathen

Or in the confessional booth

Forgive me father for I am about to SIN

Reallllllly likes to watch you masturbate for him, with toys or your hand doesn’t matter

Sit in that plush comfy chair in front of his desk and put on a show for him

Or just straight up sit on his desk in front of him and spread out

He likes to have a close up view, after all

Speaking of, he just really likes to observe your body during sex

Like every single move you make, every muscle spasm, every squirm, he knows what they all mean because he pays super close attention

Dude just really likes your body

So much so that he’ll hire a photographer to take artistic, erotic photos of you that he has blown up really big and printed on canvas to hang in this bedroom

Like one of your naked silhouette

One where you can see his hand groping one of your breasts and you biting your lip in frame

One that’s just a super close up pic of your pussy

One where you’re bending over with your legs crossed to make a silhouette of a heart while showing off your glistening folds and asshole

One where he’s pulling his fingers out of you after you’ve cum and the lighting is perfect to see how wet you were, strings of your arousal still connecting his digits to you

One that’s a close up of his cock pulling out of your pussy, your lips gripping his shaft tight to keep him inside you

All in black and white of course

Like I said, dude’s a perv

And he has the most beautiful, photogenic dick tho

Like utter perfection foreal

Long but not too long, girthy, defined head, smooth skin with a perfect complexion, prominent vein on the underside that drives him wild when you run your tongue along

You will literally beg for him to send you dick pics

SPANKING SPANKING SPANKING

Loves to punish you when you’ve been a bad girl

But lets be honest here, with the way he punishes you, he doesn’t provide much incentive to be good

He calls you ‘my dear’ in the streets

And ‘darling’ in the sheets

And you call him ‘sir’ all the time in the sheets

Ngl, all the mtl dudes love eating pussy

You heard it here first folks

And Charles is no exception

Loves how you taste

But also likes to experiment and have you eat and drink different things to see how it changes your pussy’s taste

Really likes to put his mouth on you

Always kisses you nice n deep when he puts the d in for the first time

Will be surprisingly sweet and like put little kisses on your eyelids and forehead and the tip of your nose to contrast the hard pounding he’s doing with his hips

Dance for him

He lives for trip teases

NAKED WALTZING

He’s not a sugar daddy per se as much as I wish he was

But he’s def gonna be looser with spending money on you when you’re fucking on the regular

The best time to ask him to buy you something expensive is right after he cums down your throat

#yes daddy take pics of me and pay off my student loans #charles foster offdensen #dethklok #metalocalypse #x reader #smut

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impossible-rat-babies · 6 years ago

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In Character Interview!

I got tagged by @ariela-of-aedyr! Thank you lovely!

In the spirit of answering for Ariela, I’m going to do Aoife for this meme! :)

I’m going to tag: @apostatetabris, @whispersofyenwood, @dragonie, and anyone else who wants to do this!

—

What’s your name?

Aoife! Aoife Fawcett.

Do you know why you were named that?

One of my mothers was Aedyran and she wished me to be named that when I was born. Sadly, she passed when I was born and my other mother, Ciara, honored her wife’s wish and named me that.

Are you single or taken?

Taken, as of now. Something I didn’t think I’d find myself saying, but here we are.

Have any abilities or powers?

I am a Cipher and a Watcher, so I have no shortage of powers. I’m quite skilled with a bow though, slowly learning to be better with a sword however. I still like a mace better.

What’s your eye color?

Gold. I do have pupils, mind you, but they are the same color as my iris.

How about your hair color?

Black, with a bit of a wave at the end.

Have any family members?

Yes, I do. I have my mother, Ciara, who still lives at home in Ixamitl. I have an older sister and brother, Wren and Daniel. I don’t know where they are now, but I am....estranged from both of them.

I do have Vela, my daughter as one might suppose. She’s a sweetheart and I would do anything for her.

Oh? How about pets?

Ciara isn’t a pet, but she is the closest thing. She is my animal companion, a grumpy war hawk. Bred to be larger than their cousins and fit as any war bird. She likes to play with hair...

That’s cool, I guess. Now, tell me something you don’t like?

Slavery, harming innocents, people who chew with their mouths open. I can’t be expected to be as old as I am and not have a few things I dislike.

Do you have any activities/hobbies that you like to do?

I enjoy reading, when I can manage it. I like listening to Aloth read when I can’t manage it. I like practicing with my bow, enjoying the sun, playing with Vela. Rather simple things for complex times.

Have you ever hurt anyone in any way before?

Yes, both purposefully and accidentally. Being a young cipher without directions from peers or a mentor leads to accidents. It’s a much more purposeful affair now.

Ever… killed anyone before?

Yes and with the intention of doing such a thing. My life has had no shortage of those who have deserved it.

What kind of animal are you?

I don’t fancy myself an animal, but I am rather fond of hawks and other birds.

Name your worst habits?

I pick my nails, can be argumentative, too honest for my own good. Others have said I am too rational or far too sympathetic, but we can rarely be the judges of our own character.

Do you look up to anyone at all?

Rarely, since I’m over six foot tall.

Are you gay, straight or bisexual?

I fancy who I fancy, truth be told.

Did you attend school?

I know my letters and basic math, but the formalities of education didn’t happen. I am not without seeking out my own sort of knowledge and learning however. I do like learning languages though, and Rekke has said I have an ear for them.

Ever want to marry and have kids one day?

I have Vela, my daughter, and Aloth, for so long as we wish to have each other. That is enough for me and for now. Mayhaps things will change one day.

Do you have any fangirls/fanboys?

I would surely hope not, but people do have the strangest obsessions.

What are you most afraid of?

I am afraid of hurting the ones I love and being used as a tool, the later a fact I see everyday when I look in the mirror or think about where I have been, where I have come from.

What do you usually wear?

Whatever will fit, honestly. I rarely find things that don’t need modifying due to my height and my tail, but I’ve made due. I do like patterns and colors, mainly blues, greens and reds. Yellow too.

What’s one food that tempts you?

My mother makes a wonderful rice dish that I miss greatly. No one quite makes it the same, but that’s true of all the foods one grows up on. I do have a weakness for little fried balls of dough rolled in sugar.

Am I annoying you?

No...?

Well, it’s still not over!

Go on then.

What class are you (low/middle/high)?

Class means little when you live on your own with your mother, but I would suppose most would call that low class. Caed Nua did make me a noble and I still have the rights to that land, so I assume I still retain that status. But oftentimes being a noble in the Dyrwood of all places isn’t quite as illustrious as being a Vallian or Aedyran noble.

How many friends do you have?

Many, and I cherish each of them.

What are your thoughts on pie?

It is very good. I enjoy both sweet and savory ones.

Favorite drink?

Water or mead. Occasionally rice wine. It’s not as bad as Rekke says it is.

What’s your favorite place?

The roof of Brighthollow at Caed Nua. I could watch the stars from up there and few knew how to get up there, so it was private in its way. It had a good view of the Keep and I miss it dearly.

Now, I do like my private cabin or being up near the top of the mast of the Tempo. I like the sea breeze in my hair.

Are you interested in anyone?

Yes I am very interested in someone and that interest has been reciprocated.

That was a stupid question…

I’m not the one who asked it, now am I?

Would you rather swim in a lake or the ocean?

Ocean. I was a pirate in my youth. The ocean is in my blood.

What’s your type?

Smart, compassionate, understanding. I do like folks who can tell a joke or two, dry witted or not.

Any fetishes?

None I will say to you, but many find death Godlike interesting in that sort of fashion. Never care to indulge anyone either.

Camping or outdoors?

Outdoors, surely. I spent six months camping across the Dyrwood and five years later I’ve still had my fill of it.

#under the cut bc it long #tag meme #oc tag #oc: aoife #pillars of eternity #weeee my boy who has next to no humor

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yvesdot · 2 years ago

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I'm going to be the five-year-old lone voice to the contrary and say... it's always this way! I hear a "does writeblr seem less active lately?" every few months. This as, of course, writeblr maintains its top 10 spot in Tumblr's Communities list year after year after year. So, why does writeblr so often feel dead?

If you're following, say, twenty writeblrs, and one does each of the following:

deletes their blog because writing was a phase they're out of

deletes their blog because they're merging the content with their main blog

goes on temporary hiatus

goes on permanent hiatus (especially accidentally)

changes their icon and URL such that you accidentally unfollow them

changes what they blog about such that you purposefully unfollow them

doesn't post often, because they only post original fiction

doesn't post often, because they're not as into writing

has a drastically different time zone from you

has the same time zone, but uses Tumblr completely differently

...you might see, on any given day, only ten writeblrs on your dash!

That's just the nature of writing. People can't drop original writing daily, and most people aren't obsessive about The Discoursethetic of Writing. It's a difficult hobby to really sit down and do consistently, let alone also dedicate an entire separate blog to. Most people do not get invested in blogging-about-writing on a daily basis permanently. It is far more common, in my experience, for a blog to eventually go on extended hiatus than it is for it to stick around. I maintain this blog consistently, but very few of the people who were around when I got here are still here in the same way. I am a professional writer-- meaning, I get paid to do it-- so Tumblr is my professional social media. I'm not surprised most people can't dedicate that much time to what is often a thankless, effortful, and time-consuming hobby. (It's also, as others said, mid-"Holiday Season" and post-NaNo and mid-COVID and etc.)

Tumblr has many fandom circles, though, and there's likely a group of active writers right next door to you whom you haven't met yet. I'd never seen you around before, but Tumblr delivered me this post on Explore: Hello! Nice to meet you! So, the good news is that this problem is easy to solve. I follow the #writeblr intro tag, tag writeblrs in my activity for tag games, participate in events, chat in the Welcome to Writeblr server, and try to be loud when I like something. You can also always make a new writeblr intro/promo post and openly state that your dash is dry. Right now the Twitter Exodus is lending us a lot of new blood! If you keep reaching out, you'll build a circle that can last even when some of the fringes fall off.

I also want to add that, since I've just spent thirty minutes typing this out and I'll undoubtedly link back to it when future people pose the same question, I love everyone who asks this. I love the concern and support shown for other writers. I love seeing people express care for those around them. I think it's incredible that you're asking in the first place, and I'm so glad to see the response you're getting. I hope you've found some new folks this way!

Does writeblr seem quieter lately for others? I’ve never been “popular,” so I’m used to notes being small, but even other writer mutuals I’ve barely seen get active.

#txt #yves talks #Oh and I ought to clarify I've specifically been seeing MORE activity on my blog recently...#But that's in tandem with 1) new fandoms 2) reblogging more intros 3) being more active 4) dropping more writing 5) doing Twitch streams.#yves talks writeblr

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blue-likethebird · 6 years ago

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Vee El Dee: The Good The Bad and The Ugly

If you’ve ever been on this hellsite, you’ve probably heard of Voltron: Legendary Defender. You’ll find the characters and the ships (and the discourse. Dear God the discourse) in tag after tag and on blog after blog. Now that the show has officially come to an end, I’m reviewing the whole damn thing. Talking about what I think worked, what didn’t, and what exactly the show did to make even the fans look at it so harshly now. (Just a warning “The Ugly” section discusses racism, and homophobia so if any of that triggers you I’d suggest you skip it)

Review under the cut

The Good

The Character Potential:

Voltron’s characters had so much potential at the beginning. Their motivations, potential subplots, and clues to their arcs the first crew left us were actually interesting. How did Coran know Allura before they were frozen? What happened that caused Shiro to lose his arm? Is Lance going to reunite with his family? The show didn’t answer all of these questions mind you, but at the time they were introduced, those questions felt like they were worth sticking around to hear the answers.

The First Season:

The first season is the only season that genuinely sticks out for me, way back in ye olden days when Voltron was a character driven show as opposed to plot focused. In season one, the plot took a backseat and the characters were what held up the show, and it’s probably not a coincidence that most of the character development and more emotional/memorable scenes occurred in season one, when there was time for the characters to develop. Likewise, the character focus allowed for everyone to get their day in the limelight -not just the characters who were valuable to the plot at the moment-.

The Balmera and The Return to The Balmera:

I am never gonna be shy about my opinion that the Balmera arc is one of the strongest arcs that Voltron has had. Allura using the story of her people to inspire others and using Altea’s ancient connection to the Balmera to save an entire damn civilization! The goddamn adorable chemistry between Hunk and Shay! Believable suspense! Unlocking Lion Powers! The Balmera arc had it all and I was fed. Plus, Balmera gave us the introduction of the most blessed couple in Voltron history, hunay.

The Bad:

The Timeskips:

In theory, there’s nothing wrong with a timeskip. But you’ve gotta be able to show that the characters and show’s universe changed in some way during that timeskip and you can’t use them just to avoid actual story and character development. Take season six (? Or was it five? I don’t remember and I don’t wanna) when Keith and Krolia take a two year camping trip on a space whale while Voltron is off doing God knows what. Presumably during that time they developed some sort of mother-son relationship but we don’t get to see that development happening, or how that new relationship changed them, or really any proof that the timeskip happened at all besides Keith getting Galra marks and a teleporting space wolf. That particular time jump felt more like a cop-out to avoid writing Keith bonding with his mom.

Pacing:

To put it plainly, the pace is way too fast for anything to stick. The writing cycles from one season's worth of plot twists and WTF? moments to the next at the speed of light, leaving no time to address how the previous events affected the characters involved or not the show’s universe as a whole. So Lotor was actually evil all along and was using Allura to achieve his goals? Well there’s no time to mention how Allura feels about that, we’ve got three more surprise twists and a magic robot to shove into the plot! On the flip side however, the pacing is slower than a geriatric snail during fight scenes. The giant robot fights are usually the most exciting part of anything, but in Voltron, the fights are so formulaic that they just kinda… blur together into a boring fog. Lemme know if you can name this Voltron fight scene: the team’s fighting some random baddie, there’s a lot of yelling, someone gets a power up just big enough to defeat the current baddies when a bigger, eviler baddie appears who’s more powerful than the power up they just got, new baddie whoops Voltron’s ass, the support team watches in horror, someone else gets a power up that’s powerful enough to defeat the new bad guy, Voltron reins triumphant. What fight scene was that?

The Filler Episodes:

The fast pacing also means that they need to set aside breather episodes just to allow characters to interact besides in battle. That’s all well and good and there’s nothing wrong with filler episodes, if done right they can be some of the most memorable episodes a show can have (The Tales of Ba Sing Se anyone?) that is, if done right. But Voltron filler episodes don’t have that going for them. Filler episodes in vee el dee are an oasis of mud in the desert that is canon, they’re a generally unhelpful standstill point amidst a constantly changing series. I’ll admit that they can be funny at times but for the most part filler episodes are bizarre, unnecessary, and more often than not, poorly timed. If we just heard about a millenniums old empire folding in on itself and we’re just about to see a major character attempt suicide do we really need to see Coran go batshit while planning a space Disney On Ice?

The Ugly:

Racism:

#justiceforallura

I must confess that I am whiter than a polar bear in a snowstorm, but even I know that killing off a black girl (or black coded as the case may be), constantly torturing the Japanese guy, reducing the Samoan guy to food and fat jokes, and having the latino guy flirt with everyone before turning him into a farmer isn’t the best way to handle writing characters of colour. Denying said characters of colour arcs and screen time in favour of giving your white characters the same story in a different hat over and over again is also not the best treatment you can offer your poc characters. That’s not even mentioning other horrible treatment and stereotypes you’ll see the Voltron characters of colour experience. Let us also recall #notallgalra, the “what if the genocide victim was actually the bad guy” au mess in s3, all those “lol lance is stupid�� jokes, the black character Kinkade speaking mainly in grunts, Allura dying to redeem the two genocidal dudes responsible for most of her trauma, and Hunk’s (half black half Samoan) family being enslaved at a fucking concentration camp like goddamn what the hell were you thinking Voltron that’s like hetalia levels of fucked up when we remember what kind of genuinely awful shit this show’s done to it’s minority characters.

Homophobia:

If you’re reading my review in the Voltron tag, and you watched the whole series, then there’s no way in hell that you haven’t heard about Adam dying and the backlash against Voltron for it. If you are somehow the .000001% of people who don’t know, Adam (a gay moc) was Shiro’s (another gay moc) fiancé who got a grand total of forty five seconds of screen time before dying when the Galra invaded earth. Meanwhile, L*tor and Allura’s relationship got almost triple that despite being abusive as fuck. But Shiro got married at the end of season 8! In a credits scene, to a guy in the background of a couple of scenes Shiro was also in. When lgbt fans expressed outrage at their rep being hyped up despite having no bearing on the plot or even Shiro as a character outside of one scene, instead of owning up to their mistakes, the crew of Vee El Dee said (or implied) that it was the fault of lgbt fans for hyping ourselves up. Yeah okay. Except after that we got confirmation that Ezor and Zethrid were a couple! Yay! Clearly a win for us El Gee Bee Tees right? Well… not really considering that both of them were depicted as psychotic torturers who also died a couple minutes later. Gotta love those crazy dead lesbians amirite?

Klance:

But why is klance in the “ugly” section!? You cry, I thought you were a klanti! I am an anti and I did ship klance but that’s not what I wanna talk about right now. When I put klance under ugly I wanted to discuss two things, the crew and the shippers. First let’s talk the crew; several folks on the Voltron staff have at the very least, not reacted negatively to the omnipresent ship that is Keith and Lance. I’m sure you’ll also remember that Lance’s VA Jeremy Shada was considered a KICK icon before that went south. The crew was also purposefully misleading when they talked about possible romances for Keith and Lance, the language they used was ambiguous enough that shippers interpreted it as proof that klance would become canon. When it inevitably didn’t and shit hit the fan, the staff backpedaled again. Stating that klance was never meant to be interpreted as romantic and we were all fools for thinking otherwise. That’s happened in the past so it’s a reasonable defence, except for the fact that scenes with Keith and Lance tended to contain unnecessary parallels to canonically romantic relationships, (the bonding moment paralleling an allurance scene in season six and their talk at the start of season eight paralleling two scenes, hunay in season one and l*tura in season five). So it’s not unreasonable to be a little suspicious there. Klance was huge on the internet, it’s impossible for the crew to have been completely unaware of what they were doing.

Next I wanna talk shippers. I’m not saying that being disappointed that a ship didn’t become canon is a bad thing. But when you act like that’s the worst thing Voltron did amidst the sea of ableism, racism and homophobia it gets a little tiring. The fact that so many klancers rushed to demonize Allura after season seven and eight and add on that I saw more people complaining about klance not becoming canon king than Allura dying a completely unnecessary death to redeem L*tor of all people was the final straw. I washed my hands of klance and Voltron as a whole.

———————————————

So that’s my review of V*ltron. I was gonna do a separate review of season eight but I didn’t even finish s8 and to be honest it probably wouldn’t have been any more than the words “Fuck Vee El Dee, Allura Deserved Better” in big pink letters. And I know I probably made someone angry with this review but if you actually managed to stick around my ramblings all the way to the end then I salute you regardless of whether or not you agree with me.

#voltron legendary defender #voltron #v*ltron #v slur #klance #anti klance #(kinda?)#allura deserved better #justiceforallura

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grumpypacifiers · 7 years ago

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Time for a moment of self-reflecting and apologies?

Alrighty, folks. Long story short, I’ve been checking out a block list within one of the regression communities, and I’ve also been learning what makes communities different.

Let me say first that I am not in or associated with any community. I do not have a DNI, on here or on my main blog, and anybody can purchase from me. I have also read that businesses fall outside of most DNIs, so if you would like to purchase from me, I’m pretty sure you’re allowed to. (Not positive though, so ask your mods if you’re unsure! Of course, do whatever makes you comfortable!)

All of that being said, I will admit that I’ve been pretty ignorant about communities and what different terms have come to mean because it was never like this when I first joined years ago. I decided to stay away from them, and thus, did not educate myself. I was even upset and hurt by DNI banners because I did not understand fully. I thought it was just silly terms and petty drama, like, “You say to-may-to; I say to-mah-to; we can’t be friends.” I thought that all words and terms were two sides of the same coin, two words that meant the same thing, etc.

Man, I am rambling a lot before the actual point!

Getting down to it, I’ve crosstagged in a lot of my posts. I’ve even tagged #crosstagging, and I will tell you why. I simply wanted to get the word out there to as many people as I could who like pacis. I started this blog to help people, and I know that people would like a low-cost pacifier from all kinds of communities and for all kinds of reasons. I tagged crosstagging because I thought that meant something like, “Hey, just showing that I am purposefully crosstagging, not trying to hurt anyone, not in any of these communities, just trying to include everybody.” I had good intentions.

Because I hadn’t taken the time to educate myself on terms, communities, etc (I’m still not completely knowledgeable or aware of them all), I didn’t realize that this was bad. I figured it was okay because I myself was not posting any NSFW material.

I’m starting to understand why I was wrong, and I wanted to say that I am sorry. I did not mean to make anybody feel unsafe or uncomfortable in any way. I also was not trying to ignore other people’s comfort to selfishly promote my business! I swear, I just wanted to help people get a paci, no matter what community they’re in. I still feel this way.

I wanted to take the time to post this, explaining myself and apologizing, but unfortunately, most of the people who I potentially hurt have probably blocked me due to my ignorant mistake. This means they’ll never see this post. Still, I feel that this is important to publicly apologize.

I plan to go back through my posts and delete any community tags and terms, and I will not use these tags in the future. I will most likely stay away from tagging all together, other than tags that organize my blog, until I have a better understanding of the concept.

I’m not sure if I’m on any block lists, or if the “businesses don’t count” rule applies on some blogs. Either way, I hope that moving forward, I can prevent myself from being added to any other DNIs due to cross tagging and prevent anyone from getting hurt because of me.

Bottom line, I love all you paci-lovers, no matter what you call yourself or who you interact with! I hope to learn more about what it means to truly respect this. I want everyone to feel safe coming to my blog, and I want the experience of getting your own paci with me to be positive and comfortable for all! If I do anything that potentially goes against this, kindly tell me please!

Thank you for reading <3

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howardlinkedin · 8 years ago

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Shelter - Part 11

Running title: Shelter Part 11 Summary: Alma reveals their talent for costume design and Kanda cuts things out while the story leads to the inevitable meeting with those Noah folks. Also, Allen makes a very gushy revelation to Link and Cross gets stuck in a bush. Part 10: Here Part 12: Here

Alma dumped a pile of fabric into Kanda’s arms. “Here, make yourself useful and cut this into a feather pattern.”

“What the fuck, why?” Kanda asked, because he had literally just walked through the door. Now that he looked around Alma’s room, it was covered in downy fabrics and piles of shredded bits. “Did your beanie babies explode or something?” “No they’re safe in the closet.” Alma corrected, because their collection took a lot of time and heart, and there was no way they’d leave the dolls out to fend for themselves whenever Kanda was about. Their boyfriend had a bad habit of wanting to cut the tags off of everything.

Beanie Babies needed their tags.

Which was not the main point at all. “We’re making Allen his first stage costume!” Alma redirected with cheer. They pointed to the stencil cut out of the feathered design they made and wanted Kanda to cut out.

Kanda looked between the fabric and Alma, contrite. He was between wanting to scowl, because why the hell does he need to make anything for the beansprout, and intrigue, because cutting out patterns for his sweetheart was probably one of Kanda’s favorite ways to waste the day away. Alma was doing that thing with their mouth and their eyes that always made Kanda give in anyway, so the other teen went to the impromptu cutting station. “Why feathers?” “Because it’ll look cool, that’s why.” Alma stated smugly.

---

Ever since Allen had met Mana, even when the child version of himself didn’t want anything to do with the man, a song had started to form in the place of his mind where the music often collected. It started out as a myriad of all that Mana made Allen feel. The frustration, the anger, confusion…

The feeling of belonging.

The longer Allen stayed with Mana, the better form the song took. It’s quality started to make sense and the notes began to adjust into something quite like a melody.

He often imagined that, if he had more time, Allen would have had the entire some completed and composed long before now.

The song itself came to an abrupt stop the night Mana left.

---

“Uh, guys?” Allan’s eyes wavered between Alma and Kanda uncertainly. School was done for the day, and somehow Allen ended up at Kanda’s place.

Tied to a chair.

Alma had a look of approval on their face while Kanda stirred a bowl of...something. All Allen knew was that it was white and smelled like glue.

He thought Kanda hated glue.

“Okay Allen, sit back and think of Link.” The tallest teen joked, eyebrows quirked while Kanda approached with the bowl. Allen began to squirm, because what now?!

“H-hold on KANDA WHAT IS THAT?! WHY-”

Tiedoll, Kanda’s father, popped his head into the room, and asked curiously. “Yuu, what on earth?”

“Don’t worry sir! Yuu’s helping me make a mask mold for Allen!” Alma practically sparkled with faux innocence.

Nodding, and seeing nothing wrong with the situation at hand, the older gentleman left. “Have fun then!”

Allen tried to bite Kanda’s hand.

---

“What is all that white shit in your hair?” Cross asked, tears of laughter streaming down his face, because holy shit. He took a picture of it on his phone and sent it to Socalo.

Considering his kid’s hair was already stark white, it was quite a sight to see it matted up in...even more white. Allen had the look of a very pissed off cat. The actual cat in their house was currently sleeping in Cross’ hat, which god fucking damn hell creature.

Allen practically threw the swear jar at his guardian’s head and stomped down the hall, presumably towards the bathroom. Timcampy, who had not stopped pitter-dancing around Allen feet since he came home, followed after.

---

Lenalee was the first to ask. Always polite and kind to a fault, Lenalee never means any harm. Regardless, her curiosity always got the better of her.

“Hey, Allen? If the Marshall adopted you, whatever happened to your parents?”

Kanda looked up from his homework that Alma was hassling him to complete. Both were also curious, but also shocked that their friend had asked out of the blue.

At Allen’s expression, she regretted asking. “Gosh! I’m sorry; that was insensitive of me! You don’t have to answer if you don’t want!”

With a melancholy quirk of his lips, Allen reassured that it was alright. “You can ask, it’s alright Lenalee.”

With his friends, he explained.

---

“Wait, so you were in a circus?” “Ha, yeah. I don’t really remember much before that.” “And the guy who was gonna be your dad was a clown? Are you serious?” “Kanda why would I lie you butt head!”

“I’m gonna butt your head right off your shoulders beansprout!”

“Yuu don’t curse it’s rude.” “ALLEN WALKER YOU GET DOWN FROM MY DRESSER!”

---

“When I was five, my parents were murdered.” Lenalee allotted. The reality still stung, but after all her years being raised by her brother, it hurt much, much less. “I’ve only ever had Komui as family.”

“I never knew my parents either.” Alma shared. “My birth parents anyway. I don’t think they could afford to take care of me, so I was in and out of foster care since I was born. Foster care sucks! But I’m okay now, with my adopted mother.”

Kanda grunted from his corner. “The old man found me wandering the streets one day. For some stupid reason he decided that I was worth his time. So here I am.”

Allen had learned that it was nice, to have friends who understood. Despite the sadness of all their combined pasts, they had found family.

---

Somewhere between waking up in the hospital to a gruff man with wild red hair, and meeting Link, the song had started back up again.

Which, for Allen was like the first breath a drowning man takes when his head breaches the surface. It had been torturous silence in that place inside of himself. Now the song was back, but the melody was beginning to change.

With Mana, the beat of the song was steady and consistent. Allen could mimic it with the tapping of his fingers if he had wanted. It was a comforting melody, just like Mana’s hand on his shoulder.

Cross and Link had changed the melody almost entirely. It was no less a comfort than it was much like painting your room a new color. It was still the same, but different now. It excited Allen to no end.

Then came Miranda, Lenalee, and Kanda and Alma. One by one, each person added to the refrain. Even the other Colonels at the Precinct added to the song (except Lvellie. The man had a tune about as refined as a squeaking sneaker on tile).

Which, may explain why Allen had such a difficult time getting the song itself written and composed.

In retrospect, he soon learned that he was actually missing a key component to his song.

---

“My friends are embarrassing and weird and I’m firing them.” Was Allen’s greeting to his nightly Skype session with Link.

The former arched an impressive eyebrow, and moved his laptop so it’s camera was directly on Tokusa and a mutual friend, Goushi, playing a very formidable match of “Chubby Bunny,” as if to say that both of their sets of friends are embarrassing.

“Oh my gosh, I would totally win at that.” Allen states with Atuuda nestled deep in his arms, purring up a storm as though to agree. Timcampy barked from atop Allen’s desk.

“I believe the objective of the game is to get as many marshmallows into your mouth as possible, but not to eat them Walker.” Link sassed, because that is totally what Link does, Allen knows. The young man was the sassiest person alive, and no one could tell the teen otherwise. “Also, why is your dog on top of furniture again?” “He likes to feel tall.”

---

“You know, Lenalee once asked how I knew you loved me.”

Link looked downright flabbergasted on the computer screen, completely unsuspecting the turn of the conversation. He really should have been used to Allen sudden subject changes by now.

“I...see?” Link didn’t really know what to respond to this. The elephant in the room had gone purposefully unnoticed all these years, simply because Link still had no idea how to address it.

“And I gave her a really silly answer.” Allen scratched Atuuda’s ear, which made the cat chirp in praise. “But after this whole thing about...Mana’s family, I really know why now. Like, I always knew? But I didn’t notice.”

Link was belatedly aware that Allen did not state what he had answered to his friend previous on the statement. “And I am to assume your answer is a more satisfying one?”

“Yeah.” Allen blinked his clear gray eyes and smiled at the chat window. “You make me feel really safe Link. Thank you.”

---

Allen took a quick screenshot of the chat window, because never had he seen Link get so red and flustered.

---

“Alma, why is there a cape with feathers?” “Shut up Allen and put it on. It’s cool.”

---

The day of the party, Allen walked up the driveway of the very expansive and pristine mansion that belonged to the Minister of Foreign Affairs. Allen began to wonder what, exactly, is his life. Especially since there was a strong possibility that the people inside were Mana’s family.

Link had came, as promised, walking besides him. Also with them were Lenalee, Alma, and Kanda - Allen’s own personal musketeers it seemed.

Also with them was Cross, because like hell he was going to let his kid do this without him. He held less trepidation, though, as he marched right up to the door and kicked it loudly. Allen jumped and hissed to his guardian. “What are you doing?!”

“Shut up.” Cross mumbled and then shouted. “Oy! Sheryl you slimy fuck! Open up! We’re here for your brat’s party!”

Allen was too mortified to demand compensation for the curse, instead thinking of just shoving Cross into the bushes to make him stop. Which, he did. “Allen what the fuck!”

Kanda took a video with his phone. Link signed, while Lenalee and Alma tried to look like they didn’t know any of them.

“Sh-shut up! Why do you have to be so-” Allen was interrupted by the door swinging open.

---

“Welcome to the party, boy.”

“AH! Gas Station Hobo!” Allen exclaimed, pointing at the man who opened the door. It was the xylophone man!

Said man looked rather put off at being called a hobo. “Well that was rude.”

There was giggling further inside the mansion, and Wisely poked his head from behind the xylophone man, newly dubbed Gas Station Hobo, looking as expressionless as he could while stating, “Petition that everyone calls you that from now on.”

“Bite me Wise.” “AH!” Allen once again exclaimed. “Wisely!”

“Hiya Allen, Link. Long time to see.” The young adult waved them all in. “Come in, come in, and thank you for accepting my invitation.”

They all were ushered inside. Cross was still stuck in the bushes. “Oy!”

---

Once inside, Allen was accosted by a rather strong hug around his middle. “Oof!” “I’m so excited to finally see you in person Allen!” Came a squeal. Oh boy, and there were now legs wrapped around him too. Excellent. Link looked particularly bothered and prickly at the situation.

Kanda kept filming.

The human koala had somewhat wild dark hair, and definitely a good head shorter than Allen. Which. Finally. Someone smaller than him that wasn’t his dog.

“Road get off of him and let the boy breathe.” Admonished the accordion hobo. Now that Allen got a good look at the man, he didn’t look like a homeless person anymore, not with the expensive suit he was wearing, or his slicked back hair. Noticing the teens stare, the man grinned and held out a hand. “Tyki Mikk.”

“Um? Hello?” Allen shook the hand.

Kanda had only just stopped taking candid videos of Allen’s discomfort when a rather tall and burly man came out of nowhere and offered Alma a candy bar. “Do you like sweets?” “Yes, actually!” Alma answered, enthused, despite the odd situation they found themselves in. “Hey asshole back off!” “Yuu don’t call people asshole it’s rude!”

Lenalee startled slightly, when two other popped out besides her. They were sniggering in unison. “Hobo and Asshole!” Said one, while the other joked, “I’m sure we can get Neah to change their names for you Wise!”

Everything seemed to be getting out of hand, thought Allen. Link managed to shoo his attack hugger - Road, away and decided standing close enough to be Allen’s very intense shadow was efficient use of his person for the time being. Which, Allen was grateful for, because he felt like he was on the slow verge of a panic attack.

“I would arrange it, but I don’t want dad to get after me when the inevitable fall out happens.” Said yet another new voice somewhere in the mansion. Allen looked towards the voice, which was at the top of the grand staircase in the center of the floor, and felt all the air leave his lungs.

His mind was bombarded with the loud chime of a grand piano, that only he could hear, and it held such an aching familiarity his bones echoed with it.

“Mana?”

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