#I’m grateful it doesn’t currently impact my life more than it does

[lurking-latinist]

.

[archived-kin]

ten steps behind

note from kin: kind of a greek mythology au? this is based on the story of orpheus and eurydice, feat. venti as orpheus, you as eurydice, kaeya as apollo, zhongli and ei as hades and persephone (+ diona, razor and gorou as cerberus, and xiao as charon the ferryman)

in hindsight maybe putting guizhong as persephone would’ve worked better in terms of adhering to canon… but i wouldn’t have any idea how to write her and also eizhong is a rare pair close to my heart

fandom: genshin impact

character(s): gn! reader, venti, zhongli, ei ,kaeya, xiao, diona, gorou, razor

pairing(s): venti/reader, zhongli/ei

warning(s): death, violence (not descriptive), greek mythology spoilers if that kind of thing matters to you (though i’m pretty sure most people already have an idea of how this story goes)

genre: angst but the narrator’s voice is pretty light-hearted so it’s not that bad

The curtain opens on a small house situated on the outskirts of a quiet farming town. Its door is half-ajar, and the windows are grey with dust. It seems to be nothing more than a monument, a derelict memorial left for the life that once occupied its space.

But what is this? A shadow, standing on the porch - though no footsteps have been heard for hours, and the dry leaves littering the nearby paths are undisturbed. A hand places itself softly on the rusted knob of the door; with a quiet click, it swings open, and the shadow silently steps over the threshold.

A figure is sat by the fireplace, rocking back and forth, as if trying to shake something from their body. There are no flames in the grate; the figure sits in lightless isolation, staring hard at the half-charred log as if gaze alone might ignite it. The shadow watches them in silence.

“You’re going to have to stop moping eventually, you know,” They say finally. The figure by the fireplace looks up at them with eyes of an age far beyond their years.

“Go away.”

Of course, the shadow is none other than the deity of (among other things) the sun, poetry, archery and music. His true name is unknown, but I believe that he is currently taking the form of a man called Kaeya who, rather confusingly, wields a sword rather than a bow. The figure by the fireplace, meanwhile, is a bard named Venti, and he is perhaps the man most sympathetic to the things that Kaeya represents.

Indeed, he enjoys warming himself in patches of sunlight, frequently spends time writing increasingly imaginative (and flowery) prose, makes use of a magnificent bow that he likes to call the Stringless despite it clearly having a string because otherwise it wouldn’t fire, and is possibly the greatest musician in the entire country - nay, the world. Both the mortal one, and, as we will find out, the unliving one.

I wish I could say that that is an exaggeration, but it is not. Indeed, it has been said that his music is so pure, so sweet, so pleasing to the ear, that he could be playing to you as you were torn to death by wild animals, and you would still die in peace.

Venti’s preferred instrument is the lyre, though he dabbles in other mediums too. He sings, as well, of course, but unlike other performances of similar nature, the highlight isn’t his voice. It is, indisputably, the golden shower of notes that rain across the audience the moment his fingers meet his instrument’s strings.

They say he must be a son of the deity of music himself. Kaeya doesn’t bother remembering enough of his long past to know whether or not it is true that one of his old faces fathered the boy, but he does know that it was probably Venti’s doing that his beloved lyre has become such a popular instrument again. True, it wasn’t Kaeya who invented it - it was, in fact, the deity of messengers who did that, and it’s always been a bit of a sore spot to him that he wasn’t - but it was Kaeya who improved it to what it became by the time Venti had taken it up.

He’d be lying if he didn’t have a personal interest in the boy - his fault for making a bet with the deity of wine, really, but he hadn’t exactly been clear-minded at the time - but he does also really feel quite bad for him. Less than six months ago, this derelict little shack that Venti spends all his hours moping around in had been quite the little haven of happiness.

For, though Venti had long since declared that he needed nothing but his music, there had always been one piece missing from his life. It was neither glory nor adventure - it was, in fact, every poet’s best friend: love.

Which is where you come into the story.

The two of you had met, quite by accident, by some little creek in a forest. You, a seasoned warrior back from a crusade under the local ruler, still dressed in full armour and wielding a heavy axe; him, delicately paddling his feet in the water and teasing a bubbling melody from the strings of his lyre.

You had paid him little attention but a salute of greeting and a stern half-smile from beneath your helmet. Venti took one look at that smile and fell in love.

He came to find you the very next day; you’d opened your front door to find practically dancing on his toes in front of it, lyre in hand, with a ballad he’d written overnight at the ready. Of course, you listened to him play for a while - it would only be polite. He had a talent for music, that was sure, but you didn’t find yourself particularly enamoured. You appreciated the thought, though.

You’d gently rejected him, but thanked him for the effort, and then been on your way. But, of course, that wasn’t the end of Venti’s pursuit. Affairs of the heart are not so easily dismissed; as it turned out, this particular love of his wouldn’t be halted even by the barrier between life and death.

For several long weeks Venti had set about establishing himself a place by your side. You welcomed him as a friend, and though he thought at first that he would be content simply to have any place in your affections, it soon became clear that it would never be enough. Nevertheless, he could only still his aching heart, and hold you at arm’s length - always afraid that, if you came closer, he would lose his self-control entirely.

He continued to play you songs, but they were all carefully void of any romantic meaning - simple ditties about the morning dew, or a rabbit disappearing into its burrow. As you smiled more and more to his music, Venti finally dared to play that ballad again. You didn’t say anything as the song came to a finish, but you placed a war-hardened hand on his for a moment, and that was enough.

Some time later, when you taught him how to handle his bow without being snapped in the face by the recoil, you did not reject the hesitant hands he embraced you with at the end of the day. You did not reject him when he asked for a kiss, either.

The two of you had married on a mid-spring eve, when the air was reasonably cool but the flowers flourishing, and for a while all had been well. You earnt a fair wage for your services to the kingdom, and Venti was in no shortage of the loose change that enthusiastic audiences would throw to him for his more public performances.

Venti played his best when it was just the two of you, though. You would sit in your armchair by the fire, free of your usual clanking armour, and a smile would play on your face as Venti’s fingers capered back and forth on his lyre; his songs would climb the reaches of the sky to the heavens above, and even the deities residing there found themselves moved by his simple, pure love.

But Fate would strike when all was warm and light and deliriously happy. Its wizened hands would only begin to creep over the edge when the world seemed at its most beautiful, and it would tease that golden string of life with a single, shadow-veiled finger. Then it would begin to pull - first, slowly, slowly, moving a fraction of an inch with each passing week… until finally, it would tug it free in one sharp yank.

A call to arms was delivered to the cottage that the two of you called home. It came at an odd time, in the midst of a period of peace, but you knew better than anyone that war was unpredictable, and so you weren’t suspicious.

The note said that a meeting was to be held in the nearby forest, and the siege would take place two days after that. Nothing strange. Plans of attack were usually made in advance.

You reassured Venti that you’d be back before sunset and left. He watched your figure disappear down the road, sighing to himself about how truly ethereal you looked, even when not clothed in shining armour like a celestial being. Perhaps he’d write a song about that.

He busied himself with his music, as per usual. Hours passed, and sunset came. You didn’t.

It had not been a call to arms, after all - merely a plot hatched against you by a jealous former comrade. You arrived at the meeting place to find it empty; just as it hit you what you might have walked into, a spear was thrust through your chest. If only you had worn your armour on the expedition - but you had been expecting a planning session, not a true battle.

A passing farmer discovered your body unceremoniously thrown into a ditch. A crowd soon gathered, and more than half of them recognised your face. Two or three left to fetch your partner.

They say that Venti’s cry echoed to all four corners of the Earth when he recognised your broken form in the dirt. It skewered a sharp horror deep in the hearts of all who listened - including the deities high in the heavens.

Kaeya had been among those deities who developed a fondness not only for Venti’s music, but for the blissful domesticity of his life with you. Indeed, among them, perhaps it was he who was most deeply affected by the loss of that homespun warmth - affected enough that, even if he hadn’t made that foolish bet, he’d probably still be here right now.

“I won’t go away,” He says sternly. “Not until you pick that lyre back up.”

“I will never play again,” Venti replies mournfully. “Not until I have my [Name] by my side once more.”

“Come on,” Kaeya tries, gently pushing at his shoulder. “You’re wasting away like this. Is this what your fine warrior lover would want for you?”

Venti curls in on himself and continues staring gloomily into the empty fire grate. “...my lyre’s gone. I threw it into the river weeks ago.”

The melodramatics of these mortals! Kaeya fights back a sigh. “Would you play again if I got you a new one?”

“No.”

“Even if it was a divine lyre? One that only you could bring the true potential out of? That true potential being the ability to move the hearts of even the rulers of the Underworld?”

Venti turns to look at him. His face is weary, so very weary, weighed down as it is by grief - but he manages to speak with some semblance of excitement. “...what do you mean?”

“I mean that, if anyone could charm Master Zhongli and Mistress Ei into giving up one of their dead, it would be you,” Kaeya replies. “And the ferryman and guards would be easy by comparison.”

A flicker of hope dances through a heart he had thought to be dead. Venti gets to his feet. “And this lyre?”

“Right here,” Kaeya replies, and draws a magnificent golden one from beneath his cloak. Slowly, reverently, Venti reaches out and takes it.

He raises a shaking hand, then strums a single, singing chord. It soars through the room like and flits out into the night, limpid notes dancing a perfect waltz on the cool breeze. In its wake, the room suddenly seems to be filled with warmth.

Kaeya smiles. Even he himself could not produce such a sound from this most empyrean of instruments.

“I will escort you to the entrance to the Underworld,” He says. “From then on, you’re on your own.”

Venti presses his hands against the lyre’s strings, muting their vibration, then turns to look up at him. The flicker of hope has burnt into a white-hot flame; he nods determinedly.

Kaeya accompanies him on a long journey all the way to the southernmost part of the land - a journey that should have taken weeks upon weeks, but somehow only seems to take a single day. When they arrive, he gently pushes Venti towards the entrance, then steps back and melts into the shadows. His role in this story is complete; he can only observe from this point forwards.

Venti stands there for a long minute, staring deep into that gaping maw. He can see no path, no staircase - no easy route down. Of course, he’d known from the moment he set out that this quest would not be a simple one… but there is a substantial difference between contemplating the void and standing directly before it.

He thinks of the first smile you gave him. He thinks of the way you had looked at him as you were wed. He thinks of the cold body that the farmers had had to drag him kicking and screaming away from.

He thinks of you, and he plunges forward.

The darkness is cold and unwelcoming; he does not belong here, and it knows it. It gathers against him in damp, bubbling clumps, trying to eject him from the realm that they live and breathe. Any other mortal would have given up and left, but Venti does not. He tucks the lyre more securely in his cloak and stalks onwards.

What feels like an eternity later, he comes to the main gate. Shadows lap at his ankles, and the fog threatens to squeeze the breath from him with every step, but he has arrived. As he advances, three sets of eyes open from within the darkness ahead.

Venti pauses, breath misting in the cold air in front of him. Three not-quite-human, not-quite-animal silhouettes melt out of the murk, eyes fixed on him. He knows well enough who they are - the three guardians of the Underworld’s gates.

“A mortal!” hisses Razor. He rises on his hackles, dark energy seeping from his every pore. “A living mortal!”

“What is it doing here?!” Gorou’s ears fall back; he snarls, showing off sharp canines that seem to elongate through the mist. “Presumptuous thing!”

“Kill it, kill it!” chimes Diona, tail lashing about with animosity.

Venti stands his ground as the three prowl in circles around him. The fog draws over them like a curtain; what little he could make of their shadowy figures blurs and almost disappears. He can still see their eyes, though - barely blinking, fixed on him like little pin-pricks of light through the darkness - and he can hear their low, growling voices as well.

“Make red your claws with blood… torch its limbs like wood…”

“Kill it quick, or kill it slow?”

“To Asphodel, or to damnation?”

“No matter! No mortal passes alive!”

The thick mist makes it hard to breathe. No matter. He will play well enough not to need a voice - so long as his hands stop trembling so much.

The first strains of his song are as bold and bright as ever, so strong in their brilliance that they seem to cut through the fog altogether. The three pairs of eyes fixed on his trembling form soften.

Slowly, slowly, Venti advances forwards. He moves from the jaunty melody to a soothing lullaby, sweeping so smoothly from one to the other that the three guardians barely even realise it before they’re halfway to the floor.

The main gates, unobstructed, open before him. Venti walks backwards through it, eyes fixed on the three as they droop and slowly settle in a heap together. Diona is the first to fall asleep; Gorou and Razor follow soon after.

Venti lets the song play itself out and keeps moving all the while. The three guardians stay huddled together in their little group, caught firmly in the reaches of peaceful sleep. Even as the melody shivers and fades away, they do not stir; they only wriggle closer to each other, and sigh, dreaming of things unknown in a deep and happy slumber.

“Sleep well, my friends,” Venti whispers to himself as Gorou begins to snore loudly. “Sleep well, and sleep long. I fear you may not look upon me as kindly when you wake up.”

He is light-footed when he needs to be; he turns and runs forth from the gate without so much as a backward glance, each step muted and almost soundless. The path dips and rises, then narrows to little more than a treacherous tightrope, leading him across distances unknown. He clutches his lyre all the while, casting his eyes in every which direction for oncoming foes and obstacles.

None come until the path widens once more and comes to a stop upon the shores of a seemingly endless river. This, too, is cloaked in thick mist, so much so that the other side of the water is scarcely visible. The water itself is grey and opaque, and every now and then a limp light darts across its surface - yet another soul being swept along in its current.

Venti comes to a stop by the river, feet sinking into the mud as if the earth below him is trying to consume him. He listens carefully; sure enough, he can hear the faint splash-splash-splash of the ferryman’s pole. Before long, the boat arrives at the shore.

Xiao stretches out a hand for payment, then quickly draws it back as if he has been burned. His eyes, eerily bright against the pallid complexion of his face, are wide with alarm.

“Alive!” He whispers, clutching his pole as if for support. “This boy is alive!”

His hand inches towards a talisman at his belt, as if to call for his masters to smite this insolent creature on the spot. Venti’s breath stutters, but he lifts his lyre nevertheless. With a deft sweep of his hand, he plucks out seven, simple notes.

They ring out across the water, glancing from the jagged walls of the cavern and echoing themselves into nothingness. Xiao hesitates, and his hand falters. It is a small opening, but Venti dives for it like a drowning man; a full, laughing chord bounces along the surface of the river, and Venti takes in a deep breath. Then he begins to sing.

He sings of Xiao himself, the ferryman so vital to the never-ending cycle of life and death. He sings of diligence, modesty and hard work - and, most importantly, of loyalty. All who know Xiao the ferryman know of his deep dedication to his masters.

Xiao’s face remains static, but his tense fingers slowly loosen on his pole. He knows better than to be moved by flowery but meaningless words, but somehow this mortal’s music creeps under his skin in a way that nothing has been able to before. He almost smiles, but stops himself just in time. His masters are, and always will be, the only ones allowed to see any visible joy on his face.

Silently, he steps a little to the side. Venti inclines his head in gratitude, and steps forward into the boat.

They set off quickly. The boat cuts through the rapid currents easily, and Xiao poles along with ferocious efficiency. If he is exercising more care and urgency than usual, that is between him and the mist batting at his face.

They’re halfway across the river when Xiao finally speaks. “Your objective?”

Venti gazes down into the water. His reflection stares back at him, but it is warped - gaunt and hollowed-out in a way that cannot be of the living world. “...to plead at the feet of your masters, and bring my love home.”

“The Mistress and Master will not give up a spirit easily,” Xiao warns. “Do you have gifts? Or do you plan to rest your case on promises alone?”

“I have my voice and my lyre,” Venti replies. He strums it as if to prove the point; Xiao shivers imperceptibly at the sound.

“Then let us hope they are enough,” He says, and continues poling forth in silence.

He does not bother with seeing Venti off when they reach the other shore. Almost as soon as he has stepped off the boat, it’s turning and sailing away again.

Venti watches Xiao go, then turns around. He must follow the path onwards - to the Palace.

The air is thick and almost oppressive in its heaviness. An overwhelming sense of dread washes over him, rising and falling like the waves across the river behind him.

Movement from ahead. Two tall silhouettes, seeming to call power from the very ground they walk on. His heart rate spikes.

Zhongli and Ei emerge from the mist and come to a stop before him. Venti sets his lyre aside, then drops to his knees and kowtows, eyes squeezed shut as he presses his forehead to the ground. For a long while there is nothing but silence, and the sound of his own heavy breathing.

Then Zhongli speaks. “What is the meaning of this?”

Venti bites hard on his lip as a terrified whimper threatens to burst from his mouth. The rulers of the Underworld’s mere presence seems to sink shadow deep into his very bones, like congealed blood dripping into water. “My lord. This… this humble servant begs for your favour.”

“You are living,” says Ei calmly. In her hand, her spear glints dangerously, though the light is not strong enough to reflect so intensely. “It is forbidden for those of your ilk to trespass on our land. You’re lucky we haven’t struck you down already.”

“This one is grateful,” Venti whispers into the ground. “But I… I must ask something more of you.”

A subtle but dangerous shift in the air. Zhongli’s reply is one short word, deep and unimpressed. “Impudence.”

His arm begins to lift, a sharp golden glow piercing from his jade-like irises, but Ei sets a hand on his back, and he pauses. She murmurs, “A-Xiao allowed him to cross the river. He must have had a good reason to.”

“A-Xiao is young,” Zhongli counters softly. He allows her to link her hand with his, nevertheless, and the glow disappears. “He is romantically given, even if he does not act it. His favour is easily tipped by the right person…”

He turns his eyes to the boy still bent to the ground, and a frown tugs at his brows. “...but you are right. We should hear him out. Rise, mortal.”

Venti hurriedly gets to his feet. Half-bent in a bow, he picks up his lyre and says, “This one is… deeply, deeply grateful.”

“You have said that already,” Ei says, sounding almost a little amused. “Go on, then. Say your piece.”

Venti nods, still staring at the ground. It’s almost impossible to meet either of these deity’s eyes. “My… my [Name]. You have them.”

“If we have them,” Zhongli says, “Then they have died, and so they are rightfully ours. We do not give up our dead.”

“This one is aware,” He murmurs, voice nearly breaking at the memory. “But… please allow me to attempt to change your mind.”

“There is no force that can shift an immovable will,” Zhongli replies, “But you are welcome to try. We will give you two minutes.”

He casts an arm out, and a pair of shimmering, silver-lined chairs seem to coalesce from the very fog. As one, he and Ei sit down, and look at Venti expectantly.

He has no time to waste. Venti lifts his lyre and opens his mouth. It all comes to this - never before had he asked so much of his fingers, of his voice.

The song comes like the gushing grey water of the river he had crossed not so long ago. The words come to him so quickly that he scarcely has to think before he sings, and each anguished strike at the lyre’s strings bring forth sobbing notes that linge long after they are played. They seem to fly about like birds, and they settle into the listening deities’ skin like ink.

Almost involuntarily, Zhongli reaches for Ei’s hand. Its solidity in his is what reminds him that he is still here in this moment, and not back on that clouded night on which they had first met. Like pure magic curling through the air, the music seems to take him far away from this familiar but painfully grey kingdom. All worldly difficulties disappear; all that is left is love.

Venti sees in his mind’s eye the last moment he had seen you alive, and he cries out his song for the world to hear. He sings of joy, he sings of parting, he sings of sorrow. He sings of a star gone before he could truly bathe in its light. He sings of you.

Two minutes he had been given, and two minutes are all he needs. He rests his every hope on one final cry, one final note. Though his heart feels, and has felt, weak without your presence, his voice is strong.

Venti lowers his lyre. He knows he has won.

Zhongli and Ei look at each other briefly; they seem to say a thousand words with a single glance. Then Ei looks to Venti and says, suddenly stern, “You are aware of the nature of such a request?”

“I am,” Venti says softly, forgetting in the moment to speak with the correct formality. Neither Zhongli nor Ei comment on it, however. “But it… is inarguable. I can’t go on without them.”

A long silence. Zhongli sighs. “Kaeya put this up to you, I presume? It wouldn’t be the first time he has disrupted a cycle of grief.”

“Your words do your love credit,” Ei says, “But you will recover in time.”

“I might have begun to,” Venti replies, voice barely above a whisper. “Before. But now that hope has touched me… it would be my destruction to let it go. Truly.”

“You would rather die than leave without your [Name],” Zhongli muses. “In that case… a wager.”

Venti catches his eye. Somehow the Lord’s gaze isn’t as piercing as he’d thought it may be.

“You will have an opportunity to bring your [Name] back to the living world,” Zhongli says impassively. “But you must trust in us. If you fail, you will receive punishment.”

Venti nods. He had been expecting this. “And… what will it be?”

“Your [Name] will return to our custody, just as they would have been if you had never come in the first place” Ei says, then pauses, as if she knows how her next words will be taken. “...and you will be forbidden to die for a century afterwards. Each attempt you take will be met with refusal; the Guardians will not let you past the gate, and Xiao will not take you across the river, no matter how many songs you play. You will not be allowed to simply forget your grief on the tip of a sword or the edge of a cliff.”

“Even once you die, you will not be conscious enough to be aware of a reunion should your souls meet each other in the afterlife,” Zhongli states. “This is your only chance. Do not waste it.”

Venti looks up at the two deities. In the end, any debate is fruitless. He knows what his answer will be.

“Thank you, my Lord and Lady,” He replies, bowing deeply in gratitude. “This one accepts your proposal.”

The chairs dissipate into nothingness as Zhongli stand up once again. Ei sweeps out an arm, and a door seems to open right there in the mist.

“Leave us,” She tells Venti. “This door will lead you back to the surface.”

As Venti’s face twists in half-confusion and half-betrayal, Zhongli says, “Your [Name] will follow you - ten steps behind. Once you are both out in the light, they will live once more.”

“But,” Ei continues seamlessly, “You must not look at them. Keep your gaze fixed forward; if you cast even the smallest glance back in their direction, so long as they remain in the Underworld’s darkness, they will return to us, and then they will be ours forever.”

“Steady steps,” Zhongli advises, a small smile playing on his lips. Though it feels naive to think it, Venti can’t help but believe that he truly wants him to succeed. “Take them carefully and at a regular pace. Do not turn around until you are twenty steps out into the light - just in case.”

“Good luck,” Ei says, and with a wave of her hand, the door opens.

An unearthly wind whips back Venti’s hair. As he stares up at the spot of light, so far above, he imagines he feels a hand brushing against his own - and whose voice could it be but yours, whispering an almost-there encouragement to him?

“Trust in me.”

“Trust,” Venti repeats softly, resolutely.

He begins to walk.

The corridor is long, almost endless. Its walls are narrow, so close that he can hold out both arms and trail his hands along them, and the air is stale, as if nothing has breathed within this passageway for years. Of course, no being has breathed here - nothing that resides in the Underworld has any breath left in its lungs.

He counts his steps as he walks, keeping a silent beat in his mind, clutching the lyre to him as if to provide security. As the light grows ever closer, he imagines he can feel your presence growing stronge.

It had been silence surrounding him at first, but now he thinks he can hear a set of footsteps in almost perfect sync with his own. They are faint and fleeting, like a butterfly’s wings brushing against a leaf, but they are there. With each passing moment, as he moves further onwards, he thinks he can hear them grow clearer and stronger.

So close now - so close to the living day!

He imagines that he can already feel your arms around him now, that he can already see the smile on your face - small, often transient, but oh, so beautiful. There will be so much to do, so much to say… oh, the cottage! He’d left it in such disrepair and untidiness. But no matter - soon enough, the two of you will have all the time in the world to restore it to its former glory.

You will scold him, he’s sure, for letting himself fall to this extent. But that is alright, quite alright - you’ll be there, and he’ll be able to hear your voice again after what has felt like an eternity.

Only so many steps left. His breathing quickens, skin prickling with anticipation. He crosses the threshold and takes in a deep breath of the cool air, feels the sun on his face.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten!

He is ten steps out into the sun now, and everything around him is lively and radiant. He’s done it, he’s in the light - finally, after so long—!

...you can stop reading here, if you like. It’s nice to just imagine that this is the moment where Venti turns to see you standing before him in all your living glory, and the two of you will embrace to an overture of calling birds and rustling leaves. It is nice to just… leave it here, and pretend this is a happy ending.

But it is not, and so I will continue telling it the way it is. And you are just as welcome to continue as you are to stop.

For - and this is precisely what Zhongli had warned against - Venti had quickened his pace. In his excitement, in his anticipation to be out in the living world and see you again, his steps had become hurried.

He had been told that you’d be ten steps behind him - what this meant was that you would begin following after he had taken ten steps into the corridor. If he sped up, the distance between the two of you would increase, for your still-incorporeal shade would be incapable of matching his speed.

And so, when Venti turns around, you are still in the Underworld’s shadow.

Twenty steps, Zhongli had said. Do not turn around until you are twenty steps out into the light. Knowing of mortal folly as he was, he had given the advice in the knowledge that Venti would not be able to keep a steady, calm pace for long.

You’re so close when Venti sees you. Ten steps back in the shadows.

Your eyes meet his for a fraction of a moment, for a single beat of a hummingbird’s wings. There is light in those irises, light that had flared into life as you followed him to the surface.

Light that dies as quickly as it had come. The darkness grows, consuming you with greedy relish, seeming to gloat - I knew it, I knew it!

Living consciousness had returned to you for such a brief moment, and yet it is already disappearing. The last thing you hear before the doorway closes is Venti’s scream, and then you are standing before the Underworld’s rulers again.

Ei looks at you and sighs. “...I had hopes.”

“Mortals will always make mistakes,” Zhongli murmurs. “I suppose we won’t see that one for another hundred years.”

A hundred years - even a hundred years will not be enough, it seems, to quell Venti’s desperate anguish.

He had thrown himself forward as soon as the doorway closed, but even the most quick-footed of people would never be able to out-pace the Underworld itself. There was no door, there was no darkness, there was no you. There had been nothing but cold, unforgiving stone.

His scream is raw and raging, so harsh that it seems to tear his throat out. He can taste something metallic on his tongue, feel tears running down his face. The wind teases innocently at his hair; all the strength leaves him, and he collapses forwards onto the grass.

His mouth opens and closes silently, blood trickling from the corner of his lips. His voice fails him, and the pain that comes from even trying seems to dig deep into his flesh, aching and aching and aching.

If he had only taken Zhongli’s advice, if he had even just taken five more steps, waited only a few blinks of an eye, you would be by his side now. The two of you would be free again, free to return home, free to go north, south, east, or west. You might have asked for adventure, and Venti would have willingly gone anywhere in the world with you.

Ten more steps. Ten more heartbeats.

So little time between this world and the next.

[nat-20s]

Wonderful! Au Part 7! (also on ao3 here) another episode only installment, and obnoxiously fluffy! Have fun!

~*~

Martin, tired: Hello everybody! Welcome, or welcome back, to a very low energy episode. We have had, as the kids say, A Week Tm.

Jon, equally tired, but fond: Is that as the kids say?

Martin: I don't know, and perhaps worse, I don't really care. I guess I could ask Jeremiah next time he's over, but I'm not sure if that would actually help.

Jon: Shockingly, I don't think two year olds have their finger on the beating pulse of youth culture.

Martin: Hmm, maybe not. Speaking of Jeremiah, he's part of why the format of this episode is gonna be a bit different than our regular. On top of me dealing with a frankly obscene amount of inventory management, and Jon being swamped with grant writing-

Jon: I never want to look at proposal guidelines again-

Martin: we were on babysitting duty for our favourite neighborhood hellion-

Jon: Hey, Jeremiah is a very sweet kid! I know he's a toddler, but we shouldn't be slandering him anyway.

Martin: One, we're not even using his real name, I don't think that counts as slander, and two, exactly, he's a toddler, he's by default a hellion.

Jon, teasing: This coming from the person that actually wants one?

Martin: I..look, if anything, the last few days have shown we should not be permanent parents.

Jon: But?

Martin:...There's no but.

Jon: I don't believe you! Are you lying for my benefit or the audience's? Because someone spent the last five days wearing one of the largest grins I've ever seen, exhausted as it may have been.

Martin: Okay! Fine, I admit, I liked having a kid around. I still think it would be a bad idea to do it full time, but I dunno. I wish we weren't both only children or something. We would make such good uncles.

Jon: Should I should have taken that teaching job after all?

Martin: Perhaps. After all,

Martin, singsong: An English teacher, is really someone!

Jon and Martin, singing together: If only you, had be-come one!

Jon: Honestly, though, I was considerably underqualified. I'm much more suited to my current job, even if it doesn't have quite the same impact on the "shaping of the next generation" or whatnot.

Martin: Wait, you actually care about qualifications now? When did that change?

Jon: This coming from Mister "master's degree in parapsychology"? And it was probably around the time that the world ended from taking on a workload I was ill-suited for.

Jon:...

Jon: Metaphorically speaking, of course.

Martin: Oh, of course. Definitely nothing literally apocalyptic in our pasts, no siree, nothing to see or speculate about or make weirdly involved forums for here. Uh, anyway, long introduction not so short: Both of us have been averaging about 4 hours of sleep, so any sort of actual research was not on the table.

Jon: If any of you are wondering why we didn't just say that we're both very much worn out and thus we'll be taking a week off, it's because we're both deeply, deeply stubborn.

Martin: It's one of our best shared qualities that has never caused any conflict between us, ever.

Jon: In fairness, sheer stubbornness does account for, what, 75% of the reason that either of us are still alive? And it hasn't caused a major conflict between us in a good three years.

Martin: That's true. We've become a deeply boring, relatively conflict free couple. Which fucking rules, by the way. To all the couples out there: I highly recommend being boring. It is so nice. We've gotten to go to the farmer's market so many times.

Jon: You do love the farmer's market. I would say that it's the access to fresh produce, but I think you just like the attention that one yarn seller gives you. Can't believe you would take advantage of a crush to get discounts on wool. How did I marry such an opportunist?

Martin: Ollie does not have a crush on me. They're just friendly to everyone.

Jon: Bullshit. I certainly never get an extra skein or stitch markers or delicate fabric cleaner tossed in my bag. Actually, I think I've been charged more for committing the crime of having married you before they could.

Martin: I'm..70% sure that's not true, but every sentence we speak, we stray further from even pretending to be on topic. So, to everybody listening, this is the itty bitty episode! Basically, we're only doing small wonders and user submissions. If you want details or backstory for things we like, too bad, come back next week. Jon, I believe you're first this week?

Jon: Oh, right. My first small wonder is cat names.

Martin: Delightful, but unsurprising. Though, I would've expected either more or less specificity. Why cat names as opposed to pet's names in general, or, like, military title names?

Jon: Well that's simple enough. I've simply never met a misnamed cat, even if the name itself wasn't to my personal tastes, and I think that speaks to the wonderful universality of cats.

Martin: This, of course, implies that you have met animals that were misnamed.

Jon: Oh, I have. I once met a papillion dog named Meatball.

Martin: Now I know you don't like food names in general for pets, but are you sure that Meatball didn't suit the dogs personality? I've known some "Meatballs" in my lifetime.

Jon, only half-mock offended: Of course it didn't fit, Martin. She was a lady. A nervous, jittery lady, but a lady nonetheless.

Martin, laughing: And what, you've never met a dignified cat with an undignified name, or vice versa? Would you be okay with our cat being named Meatball?

Jon: I would be upset if our cat was named Meatball, because we named her and we're above that sort of thing, but, technically speaking, she could have been Meatball in another lifetime and it wouldn't have been wrong. You see, all cats are a mix of both extremely austere and little baby idiot.

Martin: Oh, is that the scientific terminology?

Jon: It is. Now, while there's probably some amount of, er, normative determinism or confirmation bias or something that results in a cat with a more dignified name seeming to possess more of that austerity, as all cats have both, any name can, potentially, fit. Hence why it's wonderful.

Martin: I..accept your proposal for now, but I think more research needs to be done. Maybe we should visit the shelter this weekend and test your hypothesis.

Jon: Hmm. I think we may need to visit multiple shelters, actually. A large sample size is necessary for any sort of veracity, obviously.

Martin, imitating Jon tone: Obviously.

Jon: Glad you agree. What's your first small wonder?

Martin: Tofu!

Jon: I..didn't realize you liked that much?

Martin: Well, I don't get it very often since I know you can't stand the texture, even though it is not like 'worse scrambled eggs', and you're a horrible food thief-

Jon: Lies and slander. We readily share. If I'm a horrible food thief, you have committed the exact same, if not worse, crime as myself.

Martin: Well, we are thick as thieves.

Jon, groaning: You're thick as something alright

Martin: Rude! My beloved husband-

Jon: -uh huh-

Martin: whom I love and trust with my most tender of hearts-

Jon: -an oddly cannibalistic turn of phrase-

Martin, badly suppressing laughter: Oh, my god. I want a divorce, then I can put tofu in as many dishes as I like. I'll triple my protein intake.

Jon: It'd never go through. I'll burn the papers. No, wait, I'll burn down the legal offices where the papers are kept.

Martin: Hmm. While my experiences with it have been, uh, varied to say the least, I do have to admit that arson is one of the more attractive crimes of passion. I suppose I'll take you back.

Jon, flat: I'm so very grateful.

Jon, genuine: You do have yet to actually tell me why you think tofu is wonderful, love.

Martin: It's just a good food! It's neutral enough that you can toss it in pretty much anything with a sauce, you can bake it, you can fry it, whatever. Plus it's what? two? Three quid? I spent many years of my life living off the cheapest, saltiest approximation of noodles you could imagine, and half a pack of tofu, a little bit of sesame oil, and some green onions went a long way to both making it more filling and less sad. 

Martin: Plus, I feel like it often gets decried for being something it's not? It's so often viewed as a meat substitute or the vegan alternative option, and so when people try it, they often go in with a false preconceived notion of what it's going to be like, and then end up disappointed. They're all like, 'ugh, this doesn't taste like turkey!' and yeah, of course it doesn't. It's the oatmeal raisin cookie of the protein world, a perfectly good and tasty treat on its own, but if you want chocolate chip, it's not gonna work.

Jon: Martin you don't even like oatmeal raisin. I'm the only one that ever eats them out of the multipacks.

Martin: Well, yeah, but I don't like oatmeal raisin because of its flavor, not because I think it should be chocolate chip and fails. It illustrates my point. Also, just for balance, is your next small wonder oatmeal raisin cookies?

Jon: No, though, maybe one of these weeks. They are good. But no, um, my next small wonder is being married.

Martin, let out a high bark of a laugh: Being married is a small wonder?!

Jon: Small wonders doesn't mean a lack of importance! Or even significance in our lives. Half the time we even end up spending just as much time chattering on about them as the things we actually research. But, yes, I didn't feel like researching the concept of being married. For one, a lot of the history of it is depressing and patriarchal, and for two, it's not something I really feel any need to elaborate on. Being married. I very much enjoy it. I recommend it for anybody that's found someone that they want to marry, and who wants to marry them. I really recommend being married to Martin Blackwood, I think I would enjoy it significantly less if it was to anybody else, but one: we typically try to make the wonderful things in this show  applicable to more than just ourselves, and two: I got there first, so I believe the appropriate thing to say here would be; neener neener and/or everyone else can go suck it, Ollie.

Martin: Well...

Jon: Well, what?

Martin: Saying you got there first is technically not true-

Jon: What?!

Martin, laughing like a bastard: Sorry, sorry! Couldn't resist! Jon, you already know that you're my first real realationship, how would be married before fit that?

Jon: Hence my surprise at the notion! I cannot believe you! I give you my trust, my earnestness, and belief-

Martin [only laughs harder]

Jon: and you throw it in my face for a bit. I take back everything, being married is a nightmare, because sometimes your partner thinks he a fucking comedian and you just have to put up with him because you love him and want to live the rest of your life with him or some such nonsense. Not worth it, if you ask me. My turn to ask for the divorce.

Martin: Babe, hate to break it to you, but both of us are guilty of doing bits that the other doesn't like, it's an integral part of  a healthy marriage, and secondly, you knew who I was long before I proposed. You should've said no when you had the chance.

Jon: Hang on, you proposed?

Martin: Yeah? This isn't part of a bit, of course I proposed. I'm even pretty sure you were there. The whole visit back to Scotland trip? I finally made you a sweater and said it was because we would now be immune to the boyfriend curse?

Jon: No, no, I remember all that, but it wasn't the proposal. It was a reaffirmation of the proposal. We had already decided to get married.

Martin: Well, yeah,, I wasn't just gonna spring that on you, we had had conversations beforehand-

Jon:  No, I mean, I had already proposed. I asked you to marry me a good three years earlier, and you said yes, which is a proposal by any definition that I know.

Martin: Jon, love, darling, apple of my eye, fire of my soul, I mean this in the nicest way possible, what the everloving fuck are you talking about?

Jon: In the ambulance ride when we, uh, moved here. It was the thing I said to you the second I saw your eyes were open.

[An audible pause is left in the recording.]

Martin: That does not count.

Jon: How does it not count?! I asked you to marry me, you very emphatically said yes, that's the de facto definition of an accepted marriage proposal!

Martin: It doesn't count because you were half-delirious with blood-loss, and I had a traumatic brain injury that the hospital was very surprised I made a full recovery from. No court in the world would consider anything we said then more than pain driven ramblings, let alone, I dunno, contractually binding.

Jon: Well, I knew what I was saying well and clear. Just because it was desperate doesn't mean it wasn't sincere. I didn't realize that you weren't as cognizant when you accepted.

Martin, snorting: Yeah, didn't really need to be cognizant to say yes. I've wanted to marry you since the train ride to Scotland.

Jon: Wait, really? Martin, we hadn't even been on a date.

Martin: And yet we were on the lamb together, which I honestly think is more romantic than sitting in some restaurant somewhere trying to get through icebreakers. Also, back up, from your perspective we've been engaged since 2019? What did you think we were doing in the interim?

Jon: Uhh..

Martin: Yes?

Jon: There are people that have long engagement periods, and it's not exactly like we were in any sort of position to get married for awhile. Especially not that first year.

Martin: Okay? And?

Jon: And..I sort of thought you had changed your mind. For awhile. Was rather surprised that you kept living with me, considering that, on the worst nights, I was convinced you were going to storm off and leave me forever any minute now. Hence why your proposal was rather relieving.

Martin: Oh, Jon, love. That is so very ridiculous, and so very you, and so very close to many of my own fears and doubts. Do you have any idea how terrified I was to float the idea of marriage to you? Half the time I was convinced I was just meant to keep you company until you found someone better. And, Christ, we'd, from your perspective, been engaged the whole damn time. Fuck.

[Jon, after a beat, starts laughing. It has a slightly hysterical edge to it. Martin joins in. It takes a minute for the laughter to subside enough for them to speak again.]

Jon: I'm rapidly realizing that our entire romantic relationship would've been, if not more successful, a hell of a lot faster if we weren't both complete fools.

Martin: You're realizing that now? I think I've known that since the CV incident. I've definitely known it since the Lonely.

Jon, with a slightly tired chuckle:Yes, yes, something probably should've tipped me off earlier. Shockingly, observation of our own personal romantic trends is not always a strong suit of mine.

Jon: Anyway, please tell me you have another small wonder, this has gotten wildly of track.

Martin: Since we're talking about marriage anyway, I think my next small wonder is having a shared reference in your wedding vows. Our friends had "I have been, and always shall be, your friend" in theirs, and I made Jon cry with a slightly altered Lord of the Rings quote in ours.

Jon: First off, we were both openly weeping long before that point, secondly, I defy anybody to have been through half of what we have and then have the love of their life look them in the eyes and tell them "Leave you? I never intend to. I am going with you, if you climb to the moon" without at least tearing up.

Martin: There wasn't a dry eye in the audience, either. Granted, the audience was only 20 people, but that was also literally the only time I've seen Eloise show a strong emotion, so I'm pretty smug about it.

Martin, soft: I still feel exactly the same, you know. If you're climbing to the moon, I'll make sure the rope is strong enough for two.

Jon, soft: I know, love.

Jon: Though, to be fair, the moon is also significantly more pleasant than many places we've been.

Martin: God, I hate how much that's true. Look at this barren, oxygenless rock, at least it's not actively trying to kill us. Practically a honeymoon location.

[Martin sighs]

Martin: I am so tired. Let's do the user submissions then take a very long nap.

Jon: Please.

Martin: So, first submission is from Josie; They find it wonderful getting cards from their friends. They say they're lucky to have so much love in their life and have friends that care enough to send them things. That is wonderful Josie! We have a drawer in our house dedicated to every loving card we've ever received since the move, and they're always such a nice reminder of the people in our lives.

Jon: We should really organize that drawer, but, yes, agree with the sentiment. Even the cards from people that are no longer in our lives are lovely, I think. Those connections are very much meaningful for both of us, whether they're active or not.

Martin: That's very true.  Next submission is from Lys, who submits the sound of leaves crunching under your feet in the fall. Ah, that's a classic.

Jon: I just felt myself relax imagining it. I wish it was autumn.

Martin: Don't we all? Alright, for the last submissions, I'm grouping them together as they follow a similar theme. Jadwiga submits the feeling of waking up well into the morning with the sun shining through the window and your cat laying next to you, and Oran submits when a dog falls asleep with its head in your lap.

Jon: I can heartily recommend at least one of those, considering that's how we try to wake up most mornings. The Duchess is a dutiful darling girl who spends every night with us, and she's usually still there when us humans rise.

Martin: I bet you'll agree with the other when I finally convince you to get me a dog for my birthday.

Jon: It hasn't happened yet, so I wouldn't hold your breath.

Martin: But you don't even dislike dogs! You're just as happy to pet them when they pass by as I am.

Jon: Being fine with an animal isn't the same thing as wanting to adopt one for yourself! We don't even know if The Duchess would put up with a dog.

Martin: I bet she would. I bet we could get a big senior dog who's the calmest animal you've ever met with those soft eyes and a little grey on the muzzle and she would cuddle up in an instant. And we did say we should visit a shelter or three this weekend..

Jon: I think you're rather callously taking advantage of my exhausted state, but I suppose we can look. 

Martin: Hell fuckin yeah. So, I think that'll close out the episode, and as we always say at the end, uh, go take a nap and get a dog. Not necessarily in that order.

[my-writings-and-musings]

Hello! Thank you for answering my Ravage request, I love it so much! Also your last Rodimus prompt really helped me yesterday, thank you.

Can I request some headcanons about how would Megatron, Swerve and Rung react to love confession from their human crush? Free to ignore it if there's too many characters

(sorry if it's not okay to send more than one request in such short amount of time)

Yay I'm glad that you liked what I wrote and that some of my other stuff helped you out! Sorry for the delay in answering these, I've been quite surprised by the volume in my inbox! I have three lovely bots reacting to love here, and feel free to send in requests so long as my inbox is open!

Megatron

·The confession thankfully occurs while he's seated, as the impact force of a thirty foot mech collapsing to the floor would have been... considerable. That's not to say his physical reaction is at all subtle though. Eons of combat training and discipline dissapear in a flash and his expression shows the full extent of his shock. Was he dreaming? Or did his audials need repair? There must be some confusion, because he's fairly certain the little human on his desk just said that they loved him. No matter his own considerable feelings for them, he must be considerably mistaken, because that would simply be impossible.

·Except it isn't impossible. In fact, it's the truth, you tell him more than a few times over once he starts asking if you're confused or perhaps unwell. He wants to be elated, but a lifetime of training keeps that reaction well contained, as he knows from experience that these things simply cannot happen to bots like himself. Kneeling before the table you stand on, he tries not to sound pitiful or ungrateful as he requests clarification one final time, saying that he couldn't possibly expect love from one who had so much to hate him for.

·You're firm but as gentle as you might be with a fragile bit of glass as you make it undeniably clear; you love him. The only thing you're unsure of, and hoping to find out yourself, is whether or not he feels the same. All the expectation in your eyes compels him to act as impulsively as a sparkling, and he emphatically returns your feelings in a hushed reply, raising a tender hand to hold your little body in the rush of emotion shooting through him.

·There's a moment of icy reality to stop him in his tracks. Don't you know what he's done? What being with him could put you at risk of? That there's nothing to be gained from entangling yourself in the mess he's made of his life? Well accustomed to this behavior, you stand your ground and look him square in the optics, affirming that you're well aware of everything he's just said, but that the only thing you want from him is him, so everything you must endure in relation to him is already worth the struggle. In a rare burst of emotion he pulls your little body to his chest for the gentlest of hugs.

·He laughs for the first time in what has to be eons. There's the smallest hint of a fog in his optics as you find yourself tearing up too, overwhelmed by this hulking bot finally opening up to you completely and just being happy. For his part, he can't truly believe any of this is yet real, but he isn't going to bother with that for now. To know you love him is the greatest peace he's ever experienced, but also the most invigorating kind of euphoria. There's youthful hope in his spark again, encouraging his desire to explore and experience the wonders of life now that he has you at his side, but for this single moment he's content to just... be. One bot, one human, embracing through their laughter and tears.

Swerve

·Somehow he forgets he was polishing a glass at all in the second it takes for it to shatter upon impact with the ground. You had been talking, going round in a way that suggested you were intent on getting to a particular topic, but then...? The glass is forgotten as he gently cuts off your attempt at an apology, spark pulsing and voicebox constricting as he asks you to repeat yourself, looking like he's terrified beyond all belief as he does so. A kind of fear he hasn't felt in a long time prevents him from pretending to be okay like he's so used to doing.

·At your careful reassurance that you did indeed say you love him, and that you meant it, he speaks so softly in response you can barely hear him. The questions he whispers are slow and deliberate, and if he could see anything but you he'd be grateful no one else is present to witness him acting so... shy. He has to make sure though, because it just doesn't seem possible; you love him? Beautiful, intelligent, funny, caring you is in love with... him? But he loves you too, and that means you love each other, and how is that possible?!

·Disbelief slowly melts into a happiness he's afraid to let in only because it's so foreign to him, but bit by bit he begins to realize this is actually happening, and his lonely spark lets the feeling in. Tears start to drop from his foggy visor as a trembling smile pulls up his cheeks, compelling you to reach out from your spot on the bar and invite him into a comforting hug. While he clarifies that he's never felt better, he still happily takes the hug, pulling in your tiny body with his large servos and carefully holding you close.

·Feeling the warmth of you against him sends another wave of beautiful confirmation through him; this is real. The loneliness that always plagued his spark seems insignificant now, as if he's gained a kind of perspective just knowing someone like you could care so deeply for him. All of his friends, all of his patrons, and you at the very center of it all... Why wasn't he ever able to see just how much warmth and goodness there was before this moment?

·Tears are streaming down his face when he lets you go, and at your concern he assures you it's nothing to worry about. There are more questions, but they're happy now, and he's smiling like never before as you dutifully answer every query whilst dabbing his cheeks with a towel that's blanket sized for you. He wants to know; when did you start to have feelings? Does this mean you really don't mind his jokes? Can he tell the others? Is he handsome by human standards? There's so much for him to say but, for once, no rush to say it. Somehow he's finally realized that he doesn't need to talk to get your attention, he just needs to be himself, and the banter is simply a lovely bonus.

Rung

·Though he's certain he misheard, he removes his glasses almost on instinct, looking to the little lifeform he's grown so close to with an unguarded expression of apprehension tinged with hope, gentle but rarely seen optics looking to you with that vulnerability he keeps so well hidden from everyone else. You only remain silent because you briefly lose yourself in his gaze, which is as desperate as it is due to him wanting so badly to believe he did indeed just hear what he's uncertain is actually possible. The request for you to repeat is so soft it's barely audible. Thin digits try to polish his lenses as is his custom when concealing stress, but he fumbles so frequently he has to cease just as he begins.

·You stand near the edge of the table, speaking slowly and clearly so there can be no misunderstanding. The confession is indeed irrefutable this time around, the simple words breaking the silence with their surprising weight and drawing a tiny gasp from him in the process. His hand over his mouth prevents further exclamations, though he's certainly not capable of making any in his current state. Something in the depths of his being has always yearned for this, but he never dared to even dream it could happen, that he could love and in return be loved.

·Tears on his precious face spur you to act, if only because they're absolutely heartbreaking, but as he moves his hand from his mouth you see that despite his sobs he's absolutely beaming. You're surprised even further when he laughs through the tears, and at your prompting says that he's just overwhelmed. You, wonderful and thoughtful and brilliantly unique little you, in love with the bot no one can remember? What has he ever done to be this fortunate? Admittedly he's not fully convinced that this isn't a dream, but he has no intention of letting that stop him from basking in this wonderful feeling.

·You can't help but cry a little too, seeing him overwhelmed in a way you never could have anticipated. Tiny human hands take his offered servo and guide the tip of his digit to brush adoringly over your cheek, just as he so often does, but you notice that for the first time ever there's no hesitation to the action. There's only pure, serene affection. Looking into his optics, you see a mech almost made new, as if the validation you give him just by existing and loving him has changed his entire outlook on life. For a bot who does so much for others, you can't even begin to describe how wonderful it is to give him that peace.

·Still as bashful as they come, he blushes when you move in to embrace him from the tables edge on a whim, but the sheepish hesitation quickly gives way to a mutual hug. The hum of his spark is almost melodic in your ears as you press your head into his warm chest. Your tiny heartbeat, just perceptible to the servo he has cradling you close, is equally jubilant to his touch. The beauty of it all is almost enough to make him dizzy; for the first time in his life he feels truly seen, truly heard, truly here. Reality is still moving just as it was before, but now he genuinely feels like he is a part of it all, here with you in his loving arms. You make him certain that he's worth remembering.

[lilydalexf]

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with bugs

bugs has 40 stories at Gossamer. They mostly focus on Mulder and Scully, but there are also some goodies featuring Reyes and Doggett. I’ve recced some of my favorites of her fics here before, including The Link. She also co-ran WhyIncision, a fun, smart X-Files mailing list that dissected fics like a book club. Big thanks to bugs for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

Not really. While I was still in high school, I started watching the then 20 year old OG Star Trek and became a Trekkie of a sort. Starlog magazine, James Blish novels and the other novelizations, and while I was working as a library page, I found fanfiction one day among the periodicals.  Who knows how fanfiction ended up as part of a library's materials, but there it was, this tattered mimeographed collection. The fic that had the most impact on me was one where Nurse Chapel wrestled a giant alien snake to save Spock's life.

So when I got into XF, one of the first things I did was look for fanfic, knowing somewhere out there, Scully was wrestling a big snake for Mulder.

That experience showed me the power of fandom, that even without the internet, how the second generation of Trekkies joined the original group to advocate for the franchise to be revived. I remember sitting in the theater for that first awful Star Trek movie, choked up with what we'd done.

Tragic backstory way to say, no I'm not surprised that a well-produced show like XF would beget future generations of fans, and that they'd be chewing their way through the fanfic archives still being maintained.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

I'm so grateful to the fandom. Literally formed the life I have today through the confidence it gave me. Many of my friends to this day are 'pocket friends' from the various fandoms I've been in, and the longest friendships were formed in XF. I learned how to write, both technically and finding my voice. I learned how to think analytically, more than any college courses.

The two most important things I took away were, write for yourself first and always, and shit ain't that damn important. In the end, it's a TV show.

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

YIKES.  I came in at the Fight the Future summer hiatus, so the waning days of ATXC, then we moved to mailing lists, right?  Yahoo Groups was in there somewhere. Finally message boards. Live Journal rose up at the end of the run which began to fragment the fandom even before the show ended, along with the migration off our individual websites to Archive of Our Own, fanfiction.net and such. We went from group discussion platforms to 'come look at my blog for my thoughts'. It was different and I didn't particularly like it, but in the end, when I came back to fandom for a new show....I had to get a Live Journal. That's the most interesting part of fandom, that a platform doesn't mold a fandom; we use the platform and when it's no longer useful to us, we abandon it en mass.

What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

I've touched on that a bit, but to elaborate, I'm glad I started in the XF fandom. It had such high standards and I hope that I maintain those standards for myself to this day. These days, I don't usually have a beta reader, but that took a couple hundred posted fics to get to that point.

Having seen the same exact flamewars and divides and squabbles over and over, seen how the taste of 'fame' can drive someone to be rather unpleasant, has given me a much more 'whatever' attitude. It's sort of comforting when joining a new fandom to know what's going to happen next in its natural progression.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

There's a meme "I have a type," and XF definitely had that type, but it just took me a while to get there. I was away at college then working on the road when the show started, and wasn't home on Friday nights most of the year. My mother has always been a big sci-fi fan, so she actually was watching before me. I don't like scary things, and would leave the room if it was on when I'd visit her. I was home for Christmas when Christmas Carol/Emily aired and I remember standing tentatively just inside the room so I could flee if necessary, and watched Scully go through the wringer, and ranting, "What the hell is this? Why are they putting that poor woman through this!?" I also saw how the show was doing the big ship tease, and I was like, uh, I don't have time for this. Even by my 20's, I'd been done wrong by so many shows that I'd become bitter. But the first film trailers suggested they were actually going from UST to RST, so I figured I could give 2 hours of my time for that.  And yeah...but I was hooked, and WENT TO BLOCKBUSTER AND RENTED THE VHS TAPES TO CATCH UP....this interview is making me feel very old.

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

I've always been a shipper and have no shame in that, as I think forming and maintaining a relationship is the most conflict-ridden enterprise humans can attempt, and thus is the most challenging thing to write about. Like many fanfic writers, I'd 'told stories in my head' ever since I can remember about the characters from books, shows and movies. It was just a matter of then writing it down for the first time.

After I was sucked into the show and it was still the summer hiatus, I got on my first computer, dialed up that screeching modem, and went on Netscape to search for that fanfic I knew had to be out there from my Trek experience a decade ago. Like many people, after inhaling much of the delicious fics out there, I decided I can do that. I'm someone who's very methodical on my approach to something new, so I studied what worked/what didn't, the expected formatting, got a sense of the culture I was entering, acquired a critical beta reader, so when I actually submitted the first chapter to AXTC, I was calm and confident.

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

I watch from the sidelines, with a vague little smile on my lips.

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

Yes, I have. Battlestar Galactica had a lot of Philes, but it was still a big step away from the very organized fandom in X-Files. Plus, with so many characters, there could be lots of little groups focused on their favorites. Same in the Downton Abbey fandom. Just a different dynamic.

On the other end of the spectrum, one of my most popular fics is in the Silence of the Lambs fandom which I've never been involved with any other fans or their fandom, if it exists. It just sits out there on fanfiction.net and chugs along with the reads. My current fandom is The Doctor Blake Mysteries which is tiny but mighty--the saying is, we're six people and a shoelace. It's shown me that it's not the size, not the 'fame' possible, but the passion that makes a fandom.

Sadly, at least at this time, I don't think there will ever be an experience like The X-Files heyday. It was such a golden moment of the rise of internet and home computer use by the general public, a large generation of educated women having the time to participate in fandom, and there wasn't the amount of 'noise' that is distracting us all now. I'm so glad that you're doing this exercise to record our thoughts. We've already lost so many of the OG folks. My first beta, Janet Caires-Lesgold; Trixie, way too young; Shari, also too young; Brandon D Ray, leaving his family too soon; and many more.

(Posted by Lilydale on March 9, 2021)

[hurricanery]

If the Sun Comes Up - pt. 2

A/N: Here’s part 2 of If the Sun Comes Up! (AU- interns fic). Thank u thank u thank u for the nice messages about the first chapter, your messages and replies seriously warm my lil heart. I’m still basically planting seeds for some future plot points here, but I hope you enjoy anyway <3

You can read part 1 here.

_______

And if the sun comes up, if the sun comes up, if the sun comes up

And I still don't wanna stagger home

Then it's the memory of our betters

That are keeping us on our feet

_______

Everything’s different when the sun comes up. It all comes to light in a different way. The sun rises, and reality settles in. Like sleep is some magic reset button. And all of the thoughts and decisions, all of the fun, all of the mischief, it all seems worlds away. Like that was then, and this is now.

A funny thing happens though, when that reset button gets skipped. When there is no sleep, and no separation of night and day. When you stay awake for 24 hours straight and you watch the sun come up in real time; you watch the sun rise twice in fact, and there isn’t that detachment. It all flows together like a never-ending moment.

It’s strange, Amelia thinks, to have no reset button. To sacrifice the idea of choosing sleep. Because instead of calling it quits after two sunrises, she finds herself in a bar, of all places, sitting across from the people she’d met just 24 hours ago.

“I’m sooo happy you’re moving in with me,” Maggie yawns hugely next to her. And Amelia bites down on a smile at the confession; at what no sleep and a slim two beers has done to this previously panic-stricken intern. The intern that was currently dealing with the impact of being related to a Grey.

Except the panic isn’t worth it. Because there isn’t any fallout. Lexie practically laughs until she cries, when it all comes to light. When Maggie finally lets it slip about who her birth mother is. Between the delirious fits of laughter, all Lexie can manage is a “good luck telling Meredith that.”

And it only gets more chaotic.

There’s no reset for all of the sleep-deprived decisions. Lexie and Jo, in an impressive and almost falsely confident manner, venture off towards the bar, where a handful of residents and attendings claim territory. The rest of the newly formed crew stick together, in their quiet corner of the bar.

Amelia can feel Link’s eyes on her from across the booth as she brings a warm mug of tea to her lips. But her eyes remain glued down, staring down at the crumpled tea packet on the table. One of those cheap brands. Cheap because it’s a rare request in a place like this. The kind of drink that ends up taking longer for the bartender to make. More time-consuming to prepare than one of those fancy cocktails even, because it ends up that the bartender has to go search in the stock room for a tea bag in the first place.

Her thoughts are interrupted when a strong hand occupies her line of vision. It’s jolting, to say the least. For her focus to be intruded on like that. The tea packet she’d been so comfortably resting her eyes on, now suddenly consumed by Link’s grasp. He covers it completely, picking it up and further crumpling it in his fist before dropping it back down on the table.

The action forces Amelia to look at him. Which is probably his intention, anyway. So she does, and it’s equally as jolting. His expression. Because she’s half expecting it to mirror the harshness of a crumpled tea packet. But it doesn’t. It’s warm. And it’s soft. And it’s slightly curious.

“You should all move in with me.” Maggie’s voice chimes in.

And Amelia rips her gaze away from Link’s.

“Okay, slow down there,” she lets out an amused exhalation. “You were barely on board with the idea of me moving in.”

Winston playfully nudges Maggie’s side, from where he’s seated on the other side of her. And Amelia doesn’t miss the way his hand settles just above Maggie’s knee. The interaction stands out to her, and she decides she’s going to bookmark it for later. Revisit it perhaps when everyone’s feeling more awake and alert.

“Who should all move where?” Lexie slides into the booth next to Link, eyes wide with naivety as she sips a full drink.

“My apartment,” Maggie responds matter-of-factly. “I have one more room open.”

Amelia scrunches her nose at this, and she staggers through her confusion. “Wait. Just one more? What happened, I thought-”

“Well, I already promised a room to Link….” Maggie’s voice is laced with exhaustion and something else, as she turns to explain to Amelia. “When you were in the bathroom….I told him, I-” She hiccups slightly, abandoning her sentence. And Amelia tilts her head to the side quizzically. “Anyway,” Maggie gestures across the booth towards Link. “Meet your new roommate.”

Amelia’s gaze returns to Link, and he shrugs somewhat defensively, muttering under his breath, “Sorry.”

But Amelia doesn’t feel sorry. She feels something else. The notion rises in her chest, and she wants to label it as anticipation.

“Okay, but I have to get out of Meredith’s house!” Lexie slams her drink down on the table. “I’m living with a bunch of residents.”

There’s unanimous murmurs of condolence from the group.

“Oh! Speaking of….” She continues, picking her drink back up and nodding towards the bar. “The plastics attending….Mark Sloan? Just bought me this drink.”

“Ugh,” Amelia’s quick to counter. “Do not go there.”

All heads turn to her, and she feels heat rise in her face as she takes in the curious stares. When she doesn’t follow up on her previous precaution, Lexie speaks up again.

“....Have you?” Lexie swallows, a disconcerted expression on her face. “Gone there?”

Amelia doesn’t miss the way Link surveys her expression, following this particular question. She clears her throat, eyes shifting back to the crumpled tea packet.

“No, no. God no.” Her tone is low as she shakes her head dismissively. “I’ve just….known him my whole life.”

“Oh,” Lexie shrugs, taking another sip of her drink. And Amelia quickly surveys any other reactions to her response.

A general quietness falls across the table and Amelia’s eyes eventually settle back to the tea packet. She can’t quite determine why it seems to be the focal point of her evening. Or morning. Or whatever this was. She wants to claim it’s the vivid yellow packaging that keeps catching her eye.

But, her thoughts are intruded once again when Link suddenly stands up from the table. She peers up at him intently.

“Shepherd,” his tone is gentle as he starts moving away from the table. “I think I promised you a game of darts.”

Amelia blinks. Partly in confusion. But also mostly against her sudden bout of exhaustion.

“I, uh,” she mutters, turning around in her seat as she watches Link make his way around the booth.

“Come on.” He raises his eyebrows at her.

And she bites the inside of her cheek, turning around to set her mug down.

“Okay, okay,” she’s not yet facing him when she stands from the booth. “One game and then I’m out of here.” She looks pointedly at Maggie as she exits the booth. “And I can drive anyone home that needs a ride.”

Maggie offers her a toothy grin, and Winston nods in grateful agreement at the offer. Amelia steps away from the table, and tries not to mirror the smug look on Link’s face.

“One game,” she repeats.

And he chuckles a bit, proudly.

“I don’t know….” he lets her lead them across the bar, towards the wall that’s filled with dart boards and other bar games. “You’ll probably want a rematch….when I beat you the first time around.”

Amelia feigns shock at his words. But really, somewhere deep down, she’s suppressing her gratification. Because he’s feeding into her competitive side completely.

“We’ll see,” she says, as she collects the darts and starts separating them.

She hands Link his portion of the game’s pieces and he mimics her words back to her. “We’ll see.”

_______

It ends up that uninhibited decisions turn into concrete plans. Link and Lexie move into the apartment. And Amelia adheres to her pride that she was the first choice in the matter, and that everyone else just happened to follow suit.

She wakes up in the new apartment on this particular morning, and it takes her a moment to adjust to her surroundings. She groggily registers that the unfamiliar space around her is, indeed, her own bedroom.

Her alarm blares again loudly, after it’s been snoozed repeatedly for the last 15 minutes, and she aggressively shuts it off. Sitting up in bed, she throws on a cardigan before shuffling out of her room and down the hall, towards the shared space of the apartment.

“Gooood morning,” Maggie practically sings, her voice an irritating level of cheerful for the early hour.

As Amelia rounds the corner into the small kitchen area, her tired eyes settle on Maggie, where she occupies one of the stools at the counter. All she can manage to mutter is a slight “mhm,” in acknowledgement of the greeting.

She reaches into the cupboard for a mug, before filling it from the coffee pot that’s already been prepared. Once her mug is full of the steaming liquid, she turns back around to face Maggie. She leans against the counter as she brings the cup up to her nose, inhaling the scent and closing her eyes in gratitude.

The sound of Maggie’s bedroom door creaking open eventually shakes her from her blissful moment, and then her expression quickly turns to one of shocked amusement. Because her eyes settle on Winston, as he exits the bedroom and enters into the main room. He’s dressed in the same clothes he’d been wearing the day before, and Amelia looks him up and down, biting her lip in excitement, like she’s just remembered where she’s hidden the last piece of a puzzle.

“Ha,” Amelia’s delighted revelation sounds gravelly, the sleep still evident in her voice. “You don’t live here.”

She shifts her gaze to Maggie, who offers a pleading look in return. And then she looks back to Winston, who has since halted in the doorway. She can’t hold back the raspy sounding chuckle that escapes her lips. “I get it. You guys are sex friends. It all makes sense now.”

Winston scratches at the back of his neck awkwardly. And Maggie blinks, dumfounded. She stands suddenly, stepping away from the kitchen counter, like she’s desperate to remove herself from this situation.

“I’m gonna go shower. Don’t want to be late,” Maggie mutters.

Amelia just smiles further, eyes shifting playfully between the two, before she turns to walk back to her room. She raises her coffee mug slightly above her as she walks away, like she’s motioning a ‘cheers’ to the air. She tilts her head back once more in their direction, before she disappears from the kitchen, and sarcastically repeats Maggie’s greeting from before. “It is a good morning.”

Maggie rolls her eyes, but follows after her through the hallway, turning into the bathroom.

“Let me know when you’re done!” Amelia announces when she reaches her room. “I want dibs on the shower next!”

_______

Amelia finishes her coffee, and as she sets her empty mug in the sink, her impatience steadily rises.

“Maggie!” She yells, as she returns to the hallway. “You’re gonna make us late!”

There’s no response, but she hears that the shower is still on, and she even hears music coming from the bathroom. She finds the music choice odd for Maggie, and also finds it odd that Maggie is even the type of person that listens to music while she showers.

“Maggie,” she tries one more time, knocking her fist against the door.

There’s no answer.

She sighs, glancing at her watch. And then she decides to push the door open slightly, stepping into the small bathroom. “Maggie are you almost done?! I’m just going to brush my teeth real quick while you’re in there,” she announces loudly, over the music, as she reaches for her toothbrush on the sink.

“Um, not Maggie.” A surprisingly deep voice sounds from the other side of the curtain as she starts brushing her teeth.

And oh, that’s Link. “Shit, sorry! I thought you were Maggie! Wow, I just barged right in-”

“It’s fine” he interrupts, and then Amelia hears the water get shut off. “Could you, uh, actually hand me a towel though?” A dripping wet hand shoots out from behind the shower curtain and Amelia just stares at it, her toothbrush falling slack between her lips.

“Hello….? Towel?”

“Uh, right. Here.” She mutters around her toothbrush.

Blinking from her daze, she slowly reaches for a towel and hands it to him. And then suddenly the curtain is sliding open and Link is climbing out of the shower, towel around his waist, in all of his soaking wet glory. And holy shit, Amelia thinks, as she not so subtly darts her eyes around the tight space. Attempting to look anywhere but at him. She settles on turning around, and facing herself in the mirror as she makes quick movements of brushing her teeth.

She doesn’t know where the sudden panic comes from. She’s a confident person. Never timid. And somewhere, in the back of her mind, she retaliates against the idea that she’s lost any of her game. Or that she’s the one creating any awkward tension.

Link enters her line of vision through the bathroom mirror, and she feels frozen where she stands. Because, for some reason, he starts inching even closer.

He clears his throat.

“Just need to, uh, grab something…”

She practically jumps out of the way as Link reaches around her for the medicine cabinet.

“Ah, sorry. I’ll get out of your way,” she exhales a sheepish laugh at her own reaction, and tries not to cringe at the way she sounds with her mouth still full of toothpaste.

Link finally moves to exit the bathroom, and Amelia wants to sigh in relief, as she resumes her position in front of the sink. But she doesn’t. She holds back. And from her peripheral, she can see him pause in the doorway.

She turns her head in his direction. And he smirks at her before he leaves.

“Shower is all yours.”

The bathroom door clicks shut and Amelia spits harshly into the sink.

_______

Carpooling is apparently a thing they do now. They arrive at the hospital, and everyone piles out of Maggie’s car, beginning to cross the parking lot.

“Hey!” Jo’s breathless voice sounds from somewhere behind them as she locks up her own car and jogs to catch up with the group. She steps into pace with them, walking next to Link. “Whose service are you guys on today?”

“Neuro. With Shepherd,” Winston responds.

“Same here!” Lexie actually sounds excited.

“Okay, but why are we all on Shepherd’s service?” Jo mutters.

Everyone turns towards Amelia, as if she knows the reasoning behind her brother’s request. She just shrugs nonchalantly.

“Someone a little let down that they aren’t with Karev today?” Link nudges Jo playfully, and Jo feigns shock at the accusation, swatting at his shoulder.

As they enter the hospital, Amelia slows a bit behind the group, letting everyone else venture off ahead of her.

“Not excited about neuro?” She hadn’t realized Link had slowed down with her. “Not exactly my first pick either, but-”

“No, no,” she cuts in. “That’s not it.”

Link just stares at her for a moment, and Amelia almost feels scrutinized by it.

“Oh,” he continues. “Not excited about your brother, then?”

Amelia sighs, questioning to herself when they started getting so personal with each other. And then she cringes at the direction of her thoughts. Because maybe the getting too personal thing had started this morning, following the shower incident.

“That’s not exactly it, either.”

“Not exactly?” He raises his eyebrows.

“Okay, what’s with-”

“Amy Shepherd?!”

Both Link and Amelia turn around, following the voice that’s interrupted their conversation.

Mark Sloan is walking towards them full force, a huge grin on his face.

“Mark?!”

“Amy?!”

“....Amy?” Link mutters under his breath, chuckling at the nickname. And Amelia glances sideways at him in warning.

“The only person that still calls me that is Derek,” she raises her eyebrows at Mark, matching his grin.

“Well, Derek didn’t mention you were in town,” He finally approaches, and Amelia pulls him into a tight hug. They pull apart and Mark looks her up and down. “You look….different than the last time I saw you.”

“You look different, too,” she smirks.

Link looks between the pair curiously.

“And I’m not just in town,” Amelia adds as she steps out his embrace. “I work here now.”

“You work here?! Why didn’t Derek say anything…” Mark gets momentarily distracted by something, or somebody behind them. “Derek!” he yells. “Why didn’t you tell me your sister works here now?!”

Derek approaches, his demeanor reflecting his overall impatience. He completely disregards Mark’s question.

“Why do you people not answer your pages?”

“....And this conversation’s no longer entertaining. Catch up later?” Mark glances at Amelia a final time before stepping away. Then Derek turns towards his sister expectantly.

“When I requested you all on my service today, I expected punctuality.” He raises his eyebrows, and when Amelia offers no response, he continues. “I have a patient being admitted today. She’s had a sudden onset of seizures. We don’t know the cause. But we need to figure out the cause.”

There’s slight hesitation at his instructions.

“Okay, you! Dr….” his eyes shift down to glance over Link’s ID badge. “Dr. Lincoln. I want you to grab the rest of the interns and head to the library. Starting now, you all are in charge of research. Anything, I mean anything, you can find on this. Case studies, research papers, all of it. Just….find something for me.”

Link nods respectively, and he begins to turn towards Amelia.

“And Amy,” Derek’s eyes settle on hers, in an almost disdainful way. “You’re with the patient.”

Amelia is stunned for a moment, her mouth hanging open in disbelief.

“You want me to do what, exactly?” She steps forward towards Derek, who mutters under his breath in frustration. “Babysit your aneurysm? Because my time is worth way more than-”

“An aneurysm, is the last thing this is-”

“And what makes you so sure of that?!” She looks between his eyes incredulously.

“You think this woman’s just been walking around with a ruptured aneurysm-”

“I didn’t say ruptured-”

“Well if it’s not ruptured, she’d likely not have any symptoms at all, so your logic makes absolutely no sense.” Derek raises his eyebrows, like he’s won the argument.

“I’m just saying! I did a research paper on this. Similar case. Sudden onset of seizures. No prior history. But, this woman fell and-”

“I never said my patient had a fall.”

“Well did you ask her that?”

“Amy,” Derek breathes, exasperated. He tries to move around her, completely done with the conversation.

But she blocks his movements. And he gives her a blank stare. While Link stands off to the side, looking between the two uncomfortably.

“Derek.” She retorts, the frustration in her tone highly evident.

“Take my patient to CT. And then stay with her, while she gets transported to a room. You can manage that, right?”

Amelia bites her tongue, nodding numbly. She refrains from voicing everything she wants to say, and she tries to fight off the emotions that arise as Derek steps around her. She feels defeated. And small. Which was typical lately, following any interaction with her older brother. She curses herself for thinking it would be any different, now that she was here under specific circumstances. Professional circumstances. Hand picked for this surgical internship out of a large pool of equally impressive applicants. But it’s not different. If anything, it’s even more demoralizing, to be met with this discouragement both personally, and now professionally.

Derek steps away and she’s left standing there with Link.

“Your brother is….kind of a jerk.”

Amelia rolls her eyes, pushing past Link.

“Shepherd, wait-”

She ignores the way he calls after her, and she keeps walking. Because she has a patient now. A patient who needs a head CT.

_______

Link finds her about a half hour later. She’s walking from CT with a stack of scans in her arms. She nods a greeting at Link as begins walking with her.

“Hey! So, we've all been in the research library, could probably use your help-”

“I was right,” she says simply, shaking her head. “It’s an aneurysm. It’s tiny, but it’s there.”

Link doesn’t hold back his surprise. “Wow, how’d you-”

He’s cut off again when Amelia turns to him, forcing the scans over into his hands.

“What are you-”

“Make sure Derek gets these.”

“....You don’t want to hand them over yourself?” Link objects, trying to give them back to her. “Tell him you were right?”

“Nah,” she breathes, turning away from him. “I want off his service.”

Link comes to a halt in the middle of the hallway, watching her continue in the opposite direction. She turns around, facing him once more before she’s off again.

“Just please, hurry. He needs to see those now.”

_______

Several hours later, after her shift has ended, all Amelia wants is a peaceful evening. The first thing that comes to mind for her, when seeking this, is chamomile tea.

After changing into her sweats, which includes her favorite Harvard sweatshirt, she wanders down the hall to the kitchen to begin her evening routine.

The kitchen is dark, so she flips on one of the dim lights before she starts rummaging through the cupboards. To her left, from the balcony attached to the small kitchen, she can hear the sound of Jo’s exuberant laughter, mixed in with a couple of other voices.

A moment later, the sliding glass door is opening and Link is stepping inside. He slightly grimaces at the difference in volume to the quiet kitchen, as the voices outside get cut off with the door sliding shut again.

“Oh, hey,” he mutters, as he sets an empty beer bottle on the counter. “Didn’t know you were up. Are we being too loud?”

Amelia shakes her head, her focus still on her tea set-up.

She knows she’s being standoffish, and probably to Link’s notice, too.

“Weird day, huh?”

Amelia shrugs. And then realizes she has yet to say anything out loud here.

“Yeah, kind of.”

“You seem like someone….that would want to talk about it, no?”

Amelia smirks at this revelation.

“It’s a long story,” she murmurs, listening to the water in the electric kettle start to boil, and then the comforting sound gets interrupted by Jo’s laughter from outside. “Shouldn’t you get back out there, anyway?”

“Sounds like Lexie’s keeping her entertained.”

Amelia leans her back against the counter, peering across the kitchen at him.

“Derek….he’s not a jerk,” Amelia says simply. “I know it seemed that way earlier. But really, there’s more to it.”

Link shrugs, moving to lean against the opposite counter.

“It just seemed like he wasn’t taking you seriously. When you happened to be right, so. Maybe he should have.”

Amelia nods to herself.

“Do you have siblings?”

“No,” he chuckles. “Only child.”

Amelia grins. Something about this piece of information makes sense to her.

“I think sometimes it’s hard to....I don’t know,” she trails off momentarily. “Take the baby of the family seriously?”

It’s probably obvious to Link that there’s more to it. Reasonings that she’s conveniently leaving out. But he nods along with her explanation anyway.

“Anyway, I don’t want you to go on thinking my brother is some bad guy….” she mutters as she turns around to face the kettle again. “Because he’s not, he’s….one of my favorite people, actually, so.”

Link watches as Amelia starts drumming her fingers against the countertop, her eyes glued to the tea kettle.

He steps towards the fridge, because he’d originally come inside to grab another beer.

The kettle clicks off and Amelia’s fingers against the counter come to rest. She places a tea bag into her mug and pours some of the boiling water over it. She turns around just in time to see Link shut the fridge door, empty-handed.

“Aren’t you heading back out there?”

“Yeah, I just….” he gestures towards the kettle. “That looks pretty good, actually. Is there any left over?”

Amelia holds back her surprise, but quickly nods. She reaches over for another tea bag and hands it over to him.

“Knock yourself out.”

She watches Link hesitate, turning the packet over in his palms.

“It’s nothing fancy,” she grins. “Just use the water from the kettle.”

Link nods, reaching for a mug.

“I’m going to bed. Think you can handle it?” Amelia gestures towards the mug in his hands.

And Link rolls his eyes. “Yes, I’ve got it. Is it that obvious that I’m not really a tea guy?”

Amelia bites her lip, and shrugs, turning on her heels and back towards her bedroom.

“Goodnight, Amy.” She can hear Link snicker from the kitchen. And the use of the nickname causes Amelia to halt in her tracks. She slowly rounds the corner back into the kitchen.

“Don’t even.” Her voice is tight with astonishment. “Do you want me to start referring to you as Atticus? Because I will.”

The threat causes Link to falter only a little. And then he grins.

“Try again,” she mutters.

“Okay,” he’s laughing now. “Goodnight, Amelia.”

She thinks it’s the first time he’s said it out loud. Or called her by her first name at all. She’s been so used to hearing him refer to her as ‘Shepherd,’ that the sound of her first name falling from his lips actually stirs something inside her. She convinces herself that that’s it. That’s the reason it stuns her a little. It’s simply because she’s not used to it. Definitely has nothing to do with the fact that she enjoys the way it sounds.

She can’t help the smirk that crosses her face, as she repeats his sentiment. She turns back towards the hallway, an amused edge to her voice.

“Goodnight, Link.”

//

[dazais-guardian-angel]

Fic Questionnaire

@ford-ye-fiji tagged me to do this; thank you. ^_^

How many works do you have on AO3? 106

What's your total AO3 word count? 395,897

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they? 27 fandoms, though for most of them it’s only like one or two. They are Akatsuki no Yona, Bungou Stray Dogs, My Hero Academia, Hunter x Hunter, Tales of Zestiria, Tales of Berseria, Tales of Graces, Tales of the Abyss, Tales of Xillia, Tales of Hearts, Tales of the Rays, Professor Layton, Noragami, Pandora Hearts, Dai Gyakuten Saiban, A Series of Unfortunate Events, RWBY, Tangled the series, Doki Doki Literature Club, Ori and the Blind Forest, Vanitas no Carte, Genshin Impact, Kiznaiver, Boku dake ga Inai Machi, Kuroshitsuji, Ai the Somnium Files, and Charlotte.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? “Pictures, Posters, and Tender Beauty”, “Plus Est En Vous”, “My Reason”,  “I Am Here, Too”, and “A Bandage for my Scars, and your Heart” ...Not surprised that four out of five of those are MHA fics, but I will never understand how that Tangled the series one I did got so insanely popular..... maybe because the show director himself acknowledged it. 0_0

Do you respond to comments, why or why not? I try to, though I have to shamefully admit I pick and choose which ones I respond to. I appreciate every comment I get, of course, every writer does, but idk, I just feel like a broken record responding to all similar shorter comments with “Thank you so much!!! I’m so happy you liked it <3″ or something like that... Is that cruel of me? >_> I also feel weird responding to comments on my super old stuff, because aside from a few exceptions, I don’t really like most of my old fics anymore alkgklflkkl and I barely remember them enough to be able to give a reasonable response to comments on those. Instead I just put all my energy into responding to longer, more detailed comments, because with those I actually have more to work with to say back... But again, I love all my comments!! I’m really sorry if I don’t respond to your comment, it doesn’t mean I’m not grateful, I just don’t know what to say back OTL

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending? Haaaah, there are a few, but proooobably the most angsty ending would be in “Smile, and maybe tomorrow, you’ll see the sun.” Since the thing is basically 12k words of agonizingly drawn-out All Might death... :’) Though I meant for the actual ending to be somewhat hopeful/bittersweet? and I surely have other ones that have more painful endings... But that’s the obvious one that comes to mind, since I’ve had multiple people yell at me for it. :)

Have you ever received hate on a fic? I can’t remember any instances of outright hate, but I’ve gotten some... odd comments every once in a while... Or just some annoying criticism that the person didn’t intend to be mean about, I don’t think, but that realllly wasn’t warranted. These comments are very rare though.

Do you write smut? If so what kind? Noooo way in hell lol

Have you ever had a fic stolen? ....I mean, not that I know of!

Have you ever had a fic translated? Yeah, I think I had at least one someone asked to translate into Russian, although they put it on FF.net lol

Have you ever co-written a fic before? No... I really want to though. Multiple friends and I have planned different ones, but we haven’t gotten around to doing any of them yet because I’m into different fandoms atm and also dealing with health problems that distract me.... My ex-friend and I had a major one that was in the planning stages, but then she stopped being my friend so it never got off the ground. :’) I’m still upset about that...

What's your all time favorite ship? Mmmmm that’s hard; I don’t ship that much at all, so although I have a few favorite ships, one in particular doesn’t really stand out to me as my hardcore OTP.... Buuut I guess I would say Snow/Serah from FFXIII; I love ff13 so much, it’s so special to me, and those two are just the absolute sweetest and the heart and soul of the game 🥺❤️ I haven’t written anything for them or ff13 in general, but maybe someday.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will? I only ever have one WIP at a time, so..... Hopefully not my current long one, I am constantly trying to slap myself for thinking, intimidated as I am by it with all my ideas for it and all the research I need to do. :’)

What are your writing strengths? I think I’m really good at writing characters’ emotions... the emotions they show, and everything they’re feeling internally. I really like the stream-of-consciousness style of internal monologue I’ve started using within the last few years; I think it’s very... cathartic? In general I just think I’m good at writing softness, cause I definitely feel the soft feels rereading my stuff lol

What are your writing weaknesses? Motivation.... starting a writing session and not getting distracted.... ADHD.... what do I do. :’) Although I just said I like that stream-of-consciousness style I use, I often feel like I use it too much, or things get redundant, and too wordy and overwhelming, bah..... I’m also shit at just.... knowing things, like worldbuilding, but like, real-world stuff that everyone knows, but I’ve been living under a rock my whole life and not done a lot of things that are normal for most other people, so I struggle with that in my writing, which is why all my fics not-so-subtly eek around mentioning things like food and irl places and so much else, haaah.... now I’m got myself writing 1800s Victorian London; someone save me

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? Ehhhh only do it veryyyy sparingly, like when a character is startled and might briefly revert to their native language, or something similar. I just did that in one of my recent fics, actually, and looked up a few Russian words, being super anal about getting it right.... and I still got a comment correcting my Russian, even though it was only like 3 words in the entire thing, with nothing else to say about the rest of the fic... it was a little frustrating :’)

What was the first fandom you ever wrote for? Akatsuki no Yona/Yona of the Dawn. That was the first series that really got me into fandom and making online friends, and gave me the courage to try writing fics; I’m so grateful to it for that, and it still remains one of my favorite mangas <3 Ah, to be able to pump out fics as easily and quickly as I did back then...

What's your favorite fic you've ever written? I think it’s still “Manufactured Hearts, Real Happiness”, the sole Tales of the Abyss fic I’ve written. TotA is my favorite game of all time, and I wrote this for a Tales big bang that happened a while back; it turned out much longer than I ever anticipated, one of my longest fics to date, and pretty much exactly how I wanted it to be, which is always the best feeling... I was so happy to feel like I did my favorite game justice. :’) Now.... my dream is for my current WIP to become my new favorite, if I can pull it off right; we’ll see :’)

Uhhhh I’ll tag @sixtyfourk , @cenally , @arcane-palm , @kyoukalay , @magicmetslogic , and @evevoli03 , if any of you want to do this~

[chiwhorei]

a cigarette between friends

pairing: k. ukai x fem!reader

word count: 3.4k

genre: angst, implied smut, 18+ minors dni

warnings: implied smut, no actual sex scene; death of a parent; fwb; cursing; smoking; drinking; characters are 18 i do not, would not, and will not write minors

hymns: mover awayer by hobo johnson, it ends tonight by all-american rejects, and closing time by: semisonic

After the ceremony ends, even just a few hours removed, the reality of adulthood starts to settle uncomfortably in both of their chests. This would be the night that changes everything.  

“I have to say it.” They both think to themselves and brace for the impact this night is bound to bring.

Ukai Keishin and Sawamura y/n sit on the roof of y/n’s house and watch the sky melt  from pink to deep purple. They should be out with friends or family, rejoicing in the freedom that graduation has brought them, but neither have many friends anyway. Not ones worth more than this rooftop and the view above them. “Cheers, Kei. We’re celebrating.” She says grabbing a pack of cigarettes and lighter  from the windowsill behind her. She rolls her big, doey eyes and smacks the bottom of the box. She lights one and passes it to him after a few puffs. “Volleyball is over, one cigarette won’t fucking kill you.” She was wrong. That one cigarette would stop his fucking heart every time he watched her take a drag. The way she talks with it bobbing between her teeth was just as intoxicating as the six-pack of beer next to them.

Never has the tension between them been so thick. There are words hanging like nooses from her tongue, but for the first time in her life y/n couldn’t say what was on her mind. Ukai is always on the receiving end of the sharp comment shooting off of her lips, and he always dishes back what is served. The more they hurl verbal weapons, the closer they are pulled together. There was a magnet impeded in each respective skull and they always come crashing into one another. 

If anyone ever saw them together- or caught them together- during school or before Volleyball practice, they were fighting. The steam rising from both parties was palpable whenever they were within ten feet of each other. No one knew what it was like in these moments, though. No one knew what the pair was like behind a closed door or on top of a roof. They were truly inseparable. 

The only times y/n is quiet is when sucking on Ukai’s tongue. 

It goes one of a few ways with Ukai Keishin and Sawamura y/n. There are plenty of late-night booty calls or summoning each other out of pure boredom. Most often, however, their screaming matches end in hate fucking. That’s how this all started anyway.

“Maybe if you could take your head out of your ass, Ukai, we would be able to finish this project without ripping each other’s throats out.” She whispers at him in an even tone, glaring across the table they share at the library.

Being in the same classes was already grating on both of them. Whatever subject, they would be at odds. Constantly prolonging class discussions just to try to win the competition they created for themselves.

 Ukai didn’t actually care to debate the meaning of Cordelia's death in King Lear, but since Y/n had an opinion he surely wasn’t going to miss an opportunity to piss her off. This fighting came to a head when they were paired together for a literature project at the beginning of their third year. Everyone around them braced for impact when the pairs were assigned, realizing the cluster-fuck about to unfold.

“And maybe you could take the stick out of your ass.” He grumbles, but then a sadistic grin spreads across his face. He picks up his chair and drags it to the spot directly next to her. He leans right into her ear, “Unless that’s where you like it, Miss Perfect.” 

His comment was a gamble for sure, Ukai knows that the hot tempered girl next to him will probably hit him with her notebook, but if he shocks her, he wins.

“I usually don’t start with things up my ass. Plus, I’m into blondes.” A small shrug and bored look was all he got. Dammit. He should have known that he wouldn’t faze her that easily. Still… She doesn’t acquaint her hand with the back of his head, so he decides to push her a little further.

“How about we take a break and I can relieve some of your tension, y/n.” She stops writing in the sea of papers in front of them and looks at Ukai with unwavering eyes. Her stare is so intense he starts to prepare for the worst. At least in the position they’re currently sat in she can’t kick him in the balls. 

“Okay.” Y/n starts packing up her things and Ukai is reeling. Nothing shocked her, and even if he had propositioned her, Y/n always had control. 

Whichever way it starts, whether the tension threatens to boil over or just out of boredom, it ends in with him slamming her against the nearest surface while she pulls on the short brown hair at his nape. She has an amazing way of bringing out passion in people and Ukai is no exception. She challenges him at every turn. She elicits rage, anger, frustration- but he comes back for more like she’s holy communion. 

“What are we doing?” Ukai is agitated by the silence that has consumed the past few moments. Y/n scoffs at his quip and takes the cigarette from his hand, bringing it to her plush, disarming lips. “Come on, what’s some room temperature beer and a cigarette between friends?” Now it was his turn to scoff. 

“I’m not sure we would be considered friends, princess. We’re,” He pauses to contemplate, rubbing the bottle he’s holding between his palms “more like business associates.” The comment feels like poison in his mouth, even though it receives the intended chuckle from y/n. He takes a hearty sip from his beer to wash down the taste of his own words. 

He wasn’t lying, these two are not friends. Ukai, even if he was closer to a delinquent than a valedictorian, lives in a different world than y/n. He has athletic talent and a drive to compete, he has a group to belong to and a uniform to adorn. She mulls around with the crowd who directly opposes structured sports. Every time they’re shuffled into the gymnasium for a pep-rally, her friends jeer and taunt as various captains speak words of encouragement.

She hates her friends almost as much as she hates everyone else. She never thought liking vinyl and horrible black coffee were interesting traits, definitely not ones to develop a whole personality around. Y/n thinks it stupid to oppose society without a good reason. She has plenty of reasons, but the friends around her never made compelling points. Even so, she doesn’t have to like the people around her to understand the need for a place to belong. Until she found somewhere to truly be herself, they would have to work. Not that it matters now, even freshly out of graduation, she knows she isn’t going to see anyone from high school again.

“Business associates, huh? Is that what you call this-” She motions between them with the beer bottle in her hand, “thing that we do? Is Hate Fucking right under the NASDAQ when you check the stocks in the morning?” Her comment was sharp but her actions directly contrast. She moves to sit in between his legs and presses her back to his chest. Even if she’s not offended by his comment, she craves the intimacy of his arms wrapped around her. She craves to prove wrong a point she cannot argue. Every time she leans into him is a silent claim. She touches him in a way that no one else does. Y/n would never be seen at one his games donning his number or cheering him on, that was an action reserved for a girlfriend. She wasn’t there to jump into his arms after a win, but she was surely there to take his frustration out on after a loss. Her touch was not that of a romantic, but it served a purpose for both of them, and she revels in that control. 

It’s not like he minds, pushing his hands under the shirt that hangs so deliciously on her petite frame. His shirt. He rests his calloused palms on her stomach and she reaches up to run her hand over the back of his hair. 

Ukai is addicted to the feeling of her skin. Her soft, curvy body and the smell of strawberry lotion mixed with the faint trace of smoke clouds any rational thoughts. The feeling of her thighs wrapped around him could keep him up at night. At the beginning, sex was more than enough to quench his thirst. The fucked out look on her face in those moments was like methadone. However good that feeling was though, it quickly became insufficient. The real drug is this moment, with her in between his legs and his chin resting on the top of her head. If her sex was methadone, this is heroine. 

The comment she made was almost lost by the feeling of her flush against his hard chest. Where he was almost drunk on the feeling of her bare ass pressed into him, she wasn’t flustered in the slightest. 

Sawamura y/n was unmatched when she spoke. It seems like she employed a whole writers room to push out bitchy comments. How was she able to counter his dumb remark with a pointed jab and lay into his chest in a way that’s making him want to protect her? How are both possible at the same time? Fuck, he has to tell her before he chickens out again. He doesn’t know where to begin, but his words tumble out in a small voice. 

“We don’t always hate fuck, y/n.” He’s referring to the fact that they do spend time together with their clothes on, but his tone implies something different. The accusation is not lost on either of them. She doesn't show it, but his hushed confessional knocks the breath out of her lungs. He was right again.

She can’t deny the soft touches she places on his face after falling into bed together, studying his features as they let their breathing steady. She can’t deny the times she presses her small hands into the dips of his shoulder blades after a grueling practice. She can’t forget the night he came to her after being beaten to a pulp, and she will never forget the way he grabbed her thighs to ease the pain with each swipe of antiseptic on his beaten face.

“Ukai Keishin, why are you calling me at three in the morning. This better be important.” Y/n uses his full name as a sign of her frustration and it feels like a knife piercing his skull. 

“Your parents are gone this weekend, right?” He doesn't mean to sound like a prick, but the throbbing in his head is making him lose his senses. He coughs and blood spatters on his hand.

“Yes, but my brother’s asleep so if you’re coming over you have to be quiet. My window is open.” She whispers into the other end of the line and he hears her getting out of bed.

“I can’t come through the window. I’m at your front door.” The idea of climbing the tree in her backyard and jumping up to the roof seems impossible in his current state. He hopes that the tone of his voice is enough to stifle any argument from her. It seems to work as the door to her house is unlocked as quietly as possible. Upon opening it, she nearly screams at the sight in front of her. Ukai is leaning against the door frame with a beaten face and a small, apologetic smile. 

“I didn’t know where else to go.” He stumbles and y/n helps him inside. She puts her hands around his waist and hauls him clumsily into the bathroom. She sits him on the edge of the bathtub and grabs the first aid kit from the closet with shaking hands. “Is she shaking because she’s concerned for me? Or is she just pissed?” His inner-monologue is drowned out by the feeling of his own heartbeat in his swelling eye.

Y/n runs a washcloth under warm water and turns to face him. He looks up and is able to see her clearly for the first time- as clearly as he can with one good eye. Her bed head is the first thing Ukai notices, h/c locks wildly spilling over her shoulders. She looks exhausted. The bags under her eyes are deep and it looks like she’s been crying. “That wouldn’t be from me right? Surely not, if I ever did something worth crying over, she would just yell at me.” He watches the form in front of him, clad in nothing but an over-sized shirt from a band he doesn't recognize and- he lifts up the shirt slightly- yeah, a pair of underwear. 

If she notices him staring at her, she doesn’t say anything and approaches him with the washcloth. She looks so different standing above him like this, she looks like- 

“An angel.” He says out loud, only realizing it when the sound of his voice hits his ears. “Hardly Kei. Stop being weird.” She chuckles at his dizzy comment and lifts his chin up, at least her nickname for him is back on her lips, where it belongs. “This is going to sting but you have to stay quiet. If you wake up my brother I will kill you.” Y/n stands in between his parted legs and starts to dab lightly at the blood under his nose. He winces and grabs her thighs to anchor himself, biting his tongue to stifle a painful grunt. Her honey-sweet thighs keep him distracted, at least a little, from the sting of the rag making contact with his face.

“What happened?” Y/n asks so softly it is almost a hum. 

“The guys and I were just hanging out- ah, ouch- and some prick from the basketball team started messing with one of our first years. They called him a queer, so my fist attached itself to the douchbag’s jaw.” He says simply and digs his nails into the spot right below her ass.

“And I can guess that said basketball douchebag had friends.” Y/n puts a band aid on the gash under his blackening eye, and Ukai lets out a low chuckle.

“Yeah, but I’m the only one who really got hurt.” She sighs and cleans the dirt from his shaved hairline with feather-light touches.

“Don’t expect me to tell you that you’re a hero, Kei. I think what you did was stupid. There are better ways to support gay rights than getting your ass handed to you.” His desire to stand up to injustice was commendable, even if it was rough around the edges, but she wasn’t about to stroke his ego by voicing that opinion. She steps away slightly to clean up the small pile of wrappers and gauze, and Ukai immediately misses having his hands on her bare legs.

“I wouldn't expect a gold star from you, y/n.” He clears his throat in an awkward series of coughs and takes the aspirin and glass of water from her outstretched hands. ‘Can I ask you a question?” He swallows the pills thickly and sets the cup next to him. He plays with the hem of her sleep shirt and looks up at her, awaiting her acknowledgement. The way his fingers tug at the fabric makes him feel like a child.

“I’m not blowing you just because you got hurt.” That damn tongue of hers, so sharp no matter the situation. She puts the first aid kit back and wrings the blood out of the washcloth in her hands, skin tinted pink under the water before running clear.

“You can ask me whatever you want, but I’m going upstairs to sit on the roof.” He follows y/n like a lost puppy, he’s only ever been in her room so walking through these halls feels like an intrusion. Ukai winces as he climbs out of her bedroom window into the cool night’s air. 

“Were you crying?” He asks as she lays her head in his lap and blows cigarette smoke in his face, an action he usually finds annoying. He grimaces but lets it slide without complaint. Maybe it’s the late night, or the news that she received a few hours ago, but his presence is calming her racing mind. So as to not look too out of character though, she gives his earnest question a harsh scowl. 

“Maybe. Why do you care?” Y/n tries to quell her fastened heartbeat at the thought that he cares about if she’s been crying. The night’s events really must be taking a toll if she’s started caring about that. She takes another deep, cancerous inhale and ashes the cigarette in her fingers with a practiced flick.

“You’re an ugly crier, it’s weird seeing your face all sad instead of bitchy.” Maybe an asshole comment isn’t the best idea, but Ukai knows exactly what reaction he would receive. Even if he doesn’t know what upset her, he knew that the insincere insult would make her laugh. She did, she laughed loudly and tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. She needed that, and he knew it.

As her giggle subsides, she looks up at his bruising face, She reads his eyes like a book, they tell of fondness and concern where she usually sees anger or agitation. Ukai hesitates, but cards his fingers through her hair that has cascaded around his lap. The tender action feels foreign to them both, but she makes no move to stop him as he scratches gently at her scalp. The silence around them is ringing in both of their ears.

“It’s my dad. My mom took him into the city for an appointment yesterday, he was admitted on the spot. He’s not going to make it more than a few days.” Y/n blows a smoke ring into the crisp air and continues, “He’s been sick for a long time. Like, a really long time. I mean he was so frail when I helped him into the car yesterday, but I didn’t expect that call. I don’t think you can ever expect that call.” She doesn’t realize she had started crying again until his rough hand meets her cheek to thumb away the escaping tears. 

This shouldn’t be happening. Even if the circumstances are tragic, and his intent is genuine- it’s selfish to love the feeling of his comforting gesture. Y/n let’s Ukai do so much to her, but this moment feels like she is stealing from him. She’s a thief, but she indulges herself, resolving to make sure this never happens again. In this moment, this horrible night, she leans in shamelessly and memorizes the feeling of his sweet, strangers touch.

“My brother and I are going to see him tomorrow. I haven’t told him yet. He deserves one last night of sleep. His childhood ends tomorrow.” Ukai holds the shaking frame in his arms, tightening like she would disappear. 

His heart breaks for her and the nine-year-old boy in the next room. The boy Ukai has never met. Why would he know y/n’s brother? He only ever comes to this house to get off and sneaks away before the sun wakes in the morning. There’s no love here, there shouldn’t be, but his heart breaks all the same. 

“Kei,” she exhales a cloud of smoke from her nose and sits up to face him. “I need to tell you something.” His hands start sweating frantically and he knows it is now or never. He has to say the thoughts that are burning a hole in his tongue. Y/n and Ukai spoke at the same time. Both said one sentence that would hang off of this fucking rooftop for the next eight years.

“Y/n, I think I’m in love with you.”

“Kei, I’m moving to California for college.”

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

[hereisleo]

NEON JUNCTION

w/ k.ys & j.wy

g/ cyberpunk!au, friendship, mild angst

w.c/ 3.8k

a.n/ @moonchildsaurora, here it is finally. from your birthday through christmas, new years and now our one year of friendshipvery, this is long overdue and thank you so much for you patience. ah, time flown hasn’t it. i will forever be grateful of your friendship and reaching out to me first, my lovely 🌹 anon. the incredible talent you have in creativity, you have me absolutely smitten over world building (multiples now) in our convos. you’re such a vibrant person, Sunray, and i adore you dearly from the bottom of my heart. seeing your messages first thing in the morning and at the end of the night is a good way to start and end the day. cheers to more years to come and who knows our dynamics might shift akin to woosang. i love you to pluto and back! here’s to friendship and to our first pieces of the year! (excuse the mistakes you find here pretend they don’t exists).

t.w/ expletives, character death (not the mains)

playlists/ cyberworld | k.ys skates & drones

An illegal virtual world. A damaged psyche.

How far is Yeosang willing to go to find the answers to his questions? Will he put his friendship on the line? Just as how his life is beginning to near its end. The DarkNet is not a place for weaklings and its the only place where he perhaps will get his answers.

A treacherous journey is afoot.

Yeosang knows the DarkNet better than he knows his world, the real world where his body is still on the chair in the attic of his friend’s humble abode. In the net, it’s only his mind and light particles forming his appearance. Dangerous but thrilling. He has come to love the rushing adrenaline, an outlet for him to rid of his pent up frustration. Is he properly armed? Is his supply stocked well? In the old world, this is all a video game played on television. In the current world, the world he lives in, the post-apocalyptic environment, this is his reality. The DarkNet, everything illegal happens here. Credit, fame, information, it doesn’t matter what or who you are in the real world but the DarkNet requires you to build a name for yourself. It has taken so much from him. He’s sore, tired, most definitely overworked although the last is self-imposed for many reasons. He can’t rest until he has answers and the credits needed.

A virus slams his wall of codes, dragging him into a fight, vision blurring slightly from the impact and red lights of warning. His monitor reads a huge output of energy from the wild AI that strikes him. The resounding sound of ‘FIGHT’ reverberates in his ears and his light particle fingers flew across the screen, mind racing and the heartbeat bar on the top right corner shines yellow in warning with how fast his heart is hammering in this ribcage. Not being able to code is akin to a death sentence in his line of work. Talons slam on to his screen, vicious orange lines of codes burning into his memory, a phoenix avatar. He hasn’t seen one in so long after- No, now is not the time, Yeosang. A little character waving a sign appears, the nervous bouncing and worried expression have him refocusing. ‘STAY ALIVE.’ He will and with it comes forth his avatar, roaring at the wild phoenix AI. A sophisticated dragon in black codes emerges, wrestling the phoenix on to the virtual dirt ground. If there’s one thing Yeosang has that is his own, it’ll be willpower. His friend calls it being stubborn but he’ll take stubborn too.

The virtual cheering falls deaf to his ears, the colosseum is a mere replica of past time, almost real, he could almost touch it. Almost. Alas, what’s long gone can never be rebuilt the same way. Yeosang simply doesn’t have the clearance or importance to enter the colosseum in the real world. No, those are for the governmental scums. The reason why he resorts to the DarkNet. Another swipe recalibrates his mind that he’s still in the middle of a deathmatch. He hates phoenix, they’re hard to kill. His neon green French nails dance under the black light of his screen, the pads of his fingers typing codes after codes. ‘TERMINATE’ and his dragon glows from within, orange light peeking between the scales, rumbling with brewing fire. The dragon pins the phoenix to the ground by its neck, the angry screeching of the bird makes Yeosang ground his teeth. Too close to home, the similarity of the screams of survival from that night comes crashing to the forefront of his mind. “End it, Mars!” He yells and his dragon obeys, jaws unhinging and relentless waterfall of flames burn the phoenix to its ashes. ‘VICTORY’ flashes on his screen. He doesn’t stick around for long, his vitals are yellow, caution. It’s time to log out, he taps the green box of ‘EXIT’ on the corner. The tugging sensation of his mind being dragged back into reality has him closing his eyes to diminish the dull ache. Yeosang doesn’t see the ashes trembling as his light apparition disappears from the illegal virtual world.

Disengaging from the DarkNet is proving to be difficult for Yeosang, his consciousness ebbs and flows, brainwaves tangled up in what’s real and what’s not. Wooyoung stands stiffly next to the Meta, feeling sick in his stomach, chest constricting with worry. He’s not averse to the virtual world but it doesn’t mean he likes it the same. He watches the Meta shut down, Yeosang’s vitals and brain activity updated on the glass screen mounted on the wall. The little character Yeosang crafted into the AI system jumps up and down with happy chirps, ‘STABLE.’ Hehetmon, it’s called, a moniker after the old TV show from the gone world. He and Yeosang would binge-watch together occasionally when he’s not swamped from juggling two jobs. Three. Watching over Yeosang is a job in itself. A job he’s willing to sacrifice everything else for.

A groan has Wooyoung almost throwing himself to his friend but he digs his heels and instead he kneels beside the blasted chair and hands reaching to disconnect all the wires attached to Yeosang’s body. He doesn’t know all the names of the cables but he does know the two most important, the EKG and the digital implant. Hehetmon on the screen highlights the different wires that need to be detached first. The cables slither itself back to its ports within the chair. He gingerly touches the base of Yeosang’s neck, the wire attached to the neural digital implant gives into his fingers without a fight. He thinks it’s muscle memory, he does this often enough Hehetmon keeps a record on how fast he could bring Yeosang out of the Meta. (Less than a minute when push comes to shove but usually under two.) They have come so far.

14-year-old Wooyoung was putting his younger brother to sleep, a worn-out storybook clutched between his hand as his brother rested against his chest, the strong thumping of his heart and his voice lulling the younger. He could have used the tablet, everything was in it but they only had one and he didn’t want to take it from his parents. They needed it more and they couldn’t afford another one, they couldn’t afford many things. His parents splurged on a book when they first had him, a treasure for their little treasure. He had read the compiled fairytales from cover to cover, the make-believe of the olden freedom, a taste he can only experience between the pages and in his mind when the house was still. A dream far from reality.

The door creaked open and Wooyoung stiffened. It was the newcomer. “How’s Kyungmin?” Timid. The new addition- Yeosang, his parents scolded him for being impolite by not referring to the other boy by his name. Exhausted, malnourished and was most definitely ill. His parents were apprehensive about Yeosang's sudden appearance but took him in regardless. Wooyoung was reluctant to have a new addition in the place. As if they need another mouth to feed. They were struggling to meet ends. He glanced at the barely one-year-old sleeping on his chest, the high temperature took a toll on the small body. “The fever broke.” He left it at that and Yeosang was understanding enough to let the matter rest. He put the book aside and cradled Kyungmin securely before standing up. Yeosang was shifting from foot to foot by the door, Wooyoung sighed exasperatedly, he was tired enough, “Just lie down somewhere already.” The blonde let out an awkward thanks and shuffled to the bottom bunk bed on the other side of the room. Wooyoung didn’t have the energy to tell him the bed Yeosang occupied was his. He left the room and laid Kyungmin back in his crib in his parents' room.

“What are you doing?” Wooyoung didn’t expect Yeosang to flinch at the question nor did he expect to find the other boy to be curled up on the floor and reading the fairy tales book. Yeosang stood up, the book slipping from his hands and both of them winced when it hit the ground. He picked it up hastily and hung his head, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-” Wooyoung waved him off, “It’s fine.” Thick silence blanketed the room and neither moved to ease it. Yeosang opened his mouth before closing it again. He managed to string out a sentence after a while, “There were never any books back there.” Back there? Did he mean home? “Do your parents never read you to sleep?” Wooyoung almost apologised, Yeosang flinched at the mention of parents. The blonde shook his head and Wooyoung felt his stomach twist. “Mum used to sing me to sleep.” His chest tightened.

“How did you end up out here, Yeosang?” Wooyoung thought he was a bastard for not calling Yeosang by his name sooner. He never witnessed someone look so surprised by hearing their name. He walked up to his bed and sat down, patting the space next to him. Yeosang hesitated before giving in and sat next to him, posture tense and ready to bolt. “I ran away.”

Yeosang rouses from his ‘sleep’, the warm dark yellow light welcoming him into reality and so does the familiar voice next to him. Wooyoung is reading to him and he recognises the old story immediately. The Ugly Duckling. “It’s getting worse lately.” The pages flutter and Wooyoung keeps reading line after line in soft tandem. The book closes inaudibly. “You slept through dinner.” Yeosang steps into the Meta in the afternoon and for him to wake up at night, it’s getting worse indeed. He’s grateful that he hasn’t started hallucinating though he knows it wouldn’t be far if he keeps going at the pace he’s been putting his psyche through.

“Woo-”

“I know.”

“Wooyoung, I-”

“I know, Yeosang!”

“I know you can’t stop going into the Meta. I know I can’t stop you from fighting in the DarkNet. I know you need answers. But would you please take care of yourself for once!” Wooyoung runs an aggravated hand through his hair, he slumps forward in his seat, elbows digging to his knees and face hidden in his palms. Yeosang falls silent, letting his best friend, who is as close as a brother, gather his bearing. He stands up and his legs give out under him, muscles convulsing, sending him tumbling back to the Meta chair. He feels like puking yet his throat is also closing up, his head spinning and there is ringing in his ears, Wooyoung’s voice sounds so distant even though he is being held against the ravenette. He could make out flashing blue lights through his blurry vision, the health scanner kept handy beeps but he could barely hear it.

It could have been a minute or ten or an hour before Yeosang takes a hold of reality. His heart slams furiously within his ribcage and he’s once again reminded of the sped-up mortality rate of a DarkNet gladiator. The effects the Meta has on a person is damaging and he started to show the symptoms of what they called the bleeding effect. He currently renders more physical than mental and it won’t be long until the latter catches up. For how long he’s been exposed to the Meta, it’ll be sooner than he expects.

He blindly searches for Wooyoung’s hand, grasping it in a vice-like grip. He’s not the only one who’s scared. Yeosang doesn’t want to lose his sanity. He’s exhausted enough but there’s no rest for the wicked. He can’t rest, he can’t sleep with both eyes closed knowing there are answers for him out there and he needs to find it. He’s quite willing to put his psyche on the line even if it means him being thrown into the loony bin. Wooyoung loops his arms around Yeosang, tight enough for the blonde to feel how fast Wooyoung’s heart is racing. There’s a hole of emptiness in his stomach. “Can you stay with me tonight?” His voice is too raspy for either’s liking. There’s not a peep of sound coming from Wooyoung. Action speaks louder than words, especially when it’s Wooyoung. Wooyoung has a lot of words to use and yet he chooses not to, Yeosang knows better than to question it. He trusts the other with his life, his psyche and all that he is. There’s nothing that would err Yeosang to turn his back against Wooyoung. He owes Wooyoung way too much. All the credits in his account couldn’t repay what the other has done for him. It’s never enough and never will be. The seven years that they have known each other and the experiences they go through, Yeosang thinks he could never not trust Wooyoung. His life in reality and the Meta is in Wooyoung’s hands. Others would say their relationship isn’t healthy, that they are too dependent on one another and maybe that’s true. He knows he can’t function in the real world without the other.

“Promise me one thing, Yeosang. Don’t go into the Meta without me.”

Yeosang nuzzles his head into the space between Wooyoung’s shoulder and neck, his hands bunching the fabric of his friend’s shirt. The emptiness settles deeper. It’s not an answer because he knows he can’t keep such a promise. Wooyoung knows it too.

The DarkNet has shifted again. No two places look the same after each login. It changes constantly to avoid detection from the government’s pesky security. The lines of codes forming his apparition in the Net walk on the edge of a skyscraper. Mars languidly flew around the building ready to catch him if he slips. He won’t die necessarily, forcibly exited from the Net with some repercussions but not dead or just as good as dead. He has heard of those who were in comatose or worse. Mars huffs out a flaming breath, a rumbling growl thickening in its throat and Yeosang halts on his track. A stray orange feather twirls into his vision and his hands involuntarily shake, mind racing hundreds of miles an hour and he almost could feel the phantom cold sweat. He sees Mars’s wing slides between him and the feather, the thick lines of codes that formed the dragon burst into a pixelated mess and his ears ring from the explosion and the angry roar of his avatar. In the distance, Yeosang sights a phoenix emerging amongst the skyscrapers.

He sinks to his knees, hands covering his ears trying to block the screaming in his head or maybe he’s the one who is screaming. Mars knocks him into safety, away from the ledge and under its wing. No! No! No! His nails dig into his scalp.

The screeching of a phoenix avatar was the last warning he heard. The last sound to be ingrained to his memory with his mentor, with his brother, with his only friend in the blasted tech conglomerate. Yeosang could make out the silent words of the man across from him, trapped under locking codes and rubbles. Damages sustained in the Meta transferred over to the real world. The red warning signs ‘LOW HEALTH’ flashed before his eyes. His screen lit up with white words and Hehetmon skipped across the coded lines in loading.

- AVATAR TRANSFER IN PROGRESS -

URL: ORTECH://psh.MARS.980403

PREDECESSOR: [loading…]

Yeosang reached out futilely. The orange feathers fluttered around them, singing with heat as they glowed and sparked. Through his heavily cracked screen, he saw a small content yet the regretful smile of his friend. His eyes prickled with tears, dread, no, acceptance of the inevitable sank into him. Why is it always the best one to go first? One of the feathers zinged, a chain reaction of explosions rained upon them and Yeosang couldn’t hear his scream.

“Seonghwa!”

Take care of him, Mars.

- AVATAR TRANSFER COMPLETED -

“Kang Yeosang, get a grip of yourself!”

Yeosang stills at the call of his name. His battle screen is already up and the rectangular box of the communication line is open. Since when? Hehetmon spins in cheers when his eyes locked onto the pair of brown eyes he’s never tired of seeing. The beauty mark under the right eye puts a soothing balm into his mind. Wooyoung. His nails ease from its abuse against his scalp. Fuck, he must look so pathetic right now.

“You little bastard, I told you not to go into the Meta without me!” Guilt tinges in his chest. Yeosang opens his mouth, apology ready at the tip of his tongue. “Keep your ‘sorry’, we got a bird to cook.” Wooyoung never fails to reassure him but he knows it’s merely the calm before the storm. He’ll get his scolding later. Mummy never forgets.

He does what he does best even in trouble, “I’m still taller than you.” There’s still a quiver in his voice but the incredulous look on Wooyoung’s face makes him feel better. “Strip it off its feathers already, dammit! There’s milk on fire here!” Yeosang exhales and rises to his feet, his screen following his movement. The French manicure is chipped but the neon green is still vibrant in contrast to the black light emitting in front of him. He types in a series of battle commands, Mars flies higher and higher into the virtual light blue sky. Blades like armour materialise over the avatar’s claws and thick orange light peeks through between its scales. The phoenix is still far but his screen picks up the avatar’s image, the damages from their previous encounter aren’t fully repaired. What kind of a gladiator does that? Even Wooyoung can do better.

From Yeosang’s view, Mars appears to be a crow, so small up so high. Of course, he never sees the real bird, far extinct in the old world but there’s nothing that couldn’t be found on the Net. His avatar reaches right below the height barrier and takes a sharp nosedive, its weight falling at terminal velocity. Mars jaws unhinged and the fire stokes in the depths of its belly slowly rise to its throat. The screech emitting from the bird is as irritating as he remembers and his fingers tremble. He can’t tell if it’s fear or physical exertion but his head is in the game and mind is surprisingly clear despite the fireballs of feathers that are about to burst. Mars is partly hidden from his eyes with the myriad of singing explosives surrounding the dragon. Yeosang learns the hard way and he’s a learned man as Wooyoung puts it. He activates the defence codes just as the first fireball of many rains upon the black scales. He smirks from his perch, he didn’t spend many sleepless nights perfecting the codes for nothing, the tautness in his shoulders and back are good reminders too. The enraged squawk from the phoenix AI lifts his mood. The crosshair locks into place and the ‘TERMINATE’ sign appears. “Give it a good roast, Mars.” His finger taps the sign and an eruption of fire falls on the ugly big bird. His avatars claws sink into the phoenix broken pixels and glitches are visible around the broken codes. The storm of fire doesn’t relent, damages blooming across the sky and buildings. Surely the surge of energy catches the attention of fellow DarkNet users and government security. Mars doesn’t let up until each code is destroyed beyond repair, its claws tearing the wings apart by the joints. Yeosang slams his fists against the screen and yells when ‘VICTORY’ pops up in vibrant gold. Wooyoung’s cheers fall deaf to his ears over Mars roaring.

He slumps against the ledge, laughing like tomorrow won't come. He can’t believe it. He’s still alive and he supposes revenge is exacted. It feels empty somehow, he doesn’t know how to process the emotions in him at the moment. The event hasn’t hit him yet. “You’re so melodramatic, Yeosang,” Wooyoung chirps from the corner of his screen, “Give it a good roast, Mars!” His friend mimics his words earlier and Yeosang rolls his eyes but he can’t help the smile creeping on his face. Mars lets out a proud huff beside him, the dragon gives him an affectionate nudge and its ember eyes shine with much familiarity. His breath hitches but the avatar disappear with a sharp toothy grin. “Yeosang?” He makes a noise of acknowledgement. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He might have, “I’m alright, Woo. I’m going back now.” Even now you still look after me. Messages and clips of the fight start to spread in the forum. Data from the scrimmage is filed away, he’ll deal with them later. Hehetmon is skipping over the green box of ‘EXIT’ and he lets the mini AI jump on the button. He closes his eyes as the pull on the base of his neck erases his condensed light form from the DarkNet.

“Six months?!”

Wooyoung clicks his tongue as he inspects the nonexistent dirt under his fingernails, “Do you want one year instead? Okay. I’m completely fine with it.” Yeosang frantically refuses the added length, “Six months! Six months! Deal!” He never wants to wipe the shit-eating smirk off his friend's face so much. “Get scrubbing then.” Mummy never forgets indeed. Wooyoung not only scolds him but also gives his ear a good pinch and twist as soon as he is fit to walk around. Now he’s stuck on dishwashing duty under ‘consider it your retribution for breaking your promise.’ Yeosang sighs, he picks up a dirty dish and squirts the washing liquid on the plate. He’ll count himself lucky Wooyoung didn’t put him out there as hall staff.

“Did you process the data from last time?” His hand stops moving at the inquiry. Hell, he didn’t like what he saw on the files and Wooyoung most certainly wouldn’t either. God, he hates this so much. He doesn’t like it when the past comes biting back. “The phoenix URL traces back to ORBIT Tech.” A utensil clatters to the floor and Wooyoung curses like his seventeen-year-old self. “ORBIT Tech? Please tell me it’s a different conglomerate and not the piece of ‘the future is virtual science’ shit of your lunatic father’s!”

Yeosang nods, lips thinning, “Unfortunately, it is. That’s not the worst.” Wooyoung sucks in a breath, the come hither motion gestures him to go on. “I thought the phoenix was a wild AI or someone from the DarkNet was bribed,” he pauses, eyes searching for the dark browns of his friend’s, “It was under Seonghwa’s name.”

“Seonghwa’s dead! He couldn’t possibly-” Wooyoung halts his rant when he notices the unflinching gaze of his seven years companion. It clicks in his mind the inevitable of many other inevitables are descending rapidly on them. At some point, there will be a time where he couldn’t protect Yeosang. There will be a time where his friend has to return from where he comes from. He would be lying if he didn’t lose sleep thinking of this day. The twinkling skyscraper at the centre of the city mocks him. Yeosang doesn’t belong in the nest infested with lies. He’ll be damned, he much rather have Yeosang fights in the DarkNet instead. He’ll take the repercussions. But the chills running down his spine, the pressure in his chest and the unnerving hollowness in his stomach douse him in the harsh reality they live in. The finality of it grips his marrows.

“It’s time for me to stop running.”

[drinkingthemoon]

BRB I’m Shifting to Twilight

So about a month ago I discovered reality shifting through TikTok and have since fallen deep down the rabbit hole.  If you’re unaware, shifting is basically the process of moving your consciousness out of your current reality and into a new one that matches your desires.  It goes off the multiverse theory, that there are infinite realities existing simultaneously and we actually shift every second with every choice we make.  Since realities are infinite everything is possible.  Lot’s of people are shifting to Hogwarts, for example.

You script what you want to happen.  You can write yourself into the wizarding world and be friends with the golden trio or you can shift to a world exactly like this, the only difference your appearance or job.  It’s important to note that scripting is not the process of creating a reality, it’s more like choosing the reality you want to be in.  Since every possible reality exists anything you script is already real.  There are no constraints, you can go anywhere, do anything, and you can have more than one desired reality too.  Want to go to Hogwarts, be a Marvel superhero, and a K-pop idol?  Go for it, you can have as many DRs as you want.

When you shift you leave behind what is called a “clone,” which sounds scary but it’s actually just you.  Your awareness moves into your new life and in this reality your clone takes over, behaving and feeling exactly as you do unless you script otherwise.  You can script that your clone will clean your room or study for your classes, take care of themselves and others, etc.  You can also script how time moves.  You can make it so that a year in your DR is only a minute here.

My current DR is my own Twilight AU (and no I’m not ashamed don’t come for me.)  I really went overboard on my script to be honest.  Scripting isn’t even necessary but people recommend it just so you have a clearer picture of where you’re trying to go.  Most people write up a page or two describing their desired appearance, personality, relationships, and life.  My script is nearly seventy pages.  I wrote out in depth profiles detailing the pasts and personalities for everyone in my DR, used Face App and Photoshop to create totally original character portraits, and poured over the official Twilight illustrated guide to make sure I had all the details necessary.  I even used Google Maps to make custom maps of Forks that are CR accurate but with all the locations from the books in their proper places.

Yes, I’m fucking nuts.

I’ve been immersed in this for thirty days now, though I’ve only truly attempted to shift maybe twelve or so times.  I haven’t managed it yet.  This is where my frustrations come in.  Shifting is supposedly all about belief.  If you don’t truly think shifting is real and that you can do it, you won’t.  Everyone is different.  Some people shift on their first try and for some people it takes weeks, months, or even years.  This is partly what trips me up.  One cannot shift if they don’t believe they can, but is it even possible to truly believe something so outrageous and too good to be true?  Part of me does believe it, at least I keep telling myself that I do, but I also have doubts.

There are tons of “methods” that you can research and attempt in order to shift.  Many involve affirmations, counting, meditation, inducing sleep paralysis or creating lucid dream portals, etc. but people say that even methods are unnecessary.  Shifting is easy, apparently you can literally close your eyes in this reality and open them in another the same second if you truly believe in yourself.  This is a major issue to me for some reason and is actually starting to impact my mental health negatively.  It’s basically saying that if you’re not shifting then you only have yourself to blame.  You don’t believe enough, you don’t have faith, you’re getting in your own way.  “Just go home,” everyone says.  “Shifting is as easy as breathing,” they claim, and if you can’t do it it’s because you haven’t done enough work on yourself.

I did get super close once.  I was in bed, lying perfectly still for nearly an hour trying to induce sleep paralysis (as it is supposedly one of the easiest methods, shifting through SP.)  My entire body was numb, I felt disconnected from my limbs, lights were flashing behind my closed lids and it felt like I was falling.  These are all the common shifting symptoms but I think I started affirming that I was in my DR too soon and pulled myself out.

Despite coming so close I still don’t know what I believe honestly.  Are we actually shifting into a real alternate universe or are we just splitting our consciousness so that our awareness goes into a sort of hyper-realistic hallucination?  I find it easier to believe it’s more like a waking dream than an actual existing destination, but does thinking that mean I won’t shift because I’m doubting it’s validity?  It’s infuriating.  According to the many people who claim to have shifted everything feels exactly as real as it does here.  It’s supposedly nothing like a lucid dream, everything is solid and you are fully awake.  You can do everything there that you can here plus more and you don’t ever have to leave if you don’t want to.  Once you’re there you can stay forever.

I think I’m going to take a break though.  Breaks are important apparently, you need to have high vibrations and lots of energy in order to shift and I’ve been feeling very drained lately.  The trying and failing while so many others are claiming to succeed is making me depressed.  I’ve been actively trying to detach from everything in this reality and am partially succeeding but that just makes me feel worse every time I fail to wake up in my DR bedroom.  I don’t want to be here anymore, my family doesn’t feel like my family and I miss the friends I have in my DR even though I technically haven’t met them yet.  That makes me feel guilty though, which I’m sure is also impeding my shifting.  I want to leave behind my friends and family and pets and it makes me feel like a bad person.

I am grateful for what I have in this reality, but this isn’t my home.  I'm not happy here and I haven’t been for 12 years now.  If there is even the slightest possibility that I can escape into a universe where I might actually like myself then is that so selfish?  I don’t think so.  And the people I know here won’t even know I’m gone.  They’d be better off with my clone in truth, he’s going to be a better friend and do a better job here than I ever could.  That’s how I scripted him anyway.

I do believe in shifting and I am going home.  In truth I’m there already, I just have to get my awareness to switch over.  I want the constant cloud cover, to inhale the scent of fresh rain and run my fingers over the squishy moss-covered mother logs.  I want to walk through the misty forests and feel their chill.  Falling in love and eventually becoming a practically indestructible immortal is really just a bonus to me.

God, I sound fucking crazy.  Sigh--  

     -Astral  

[kneamet]

Delusion (5/5)

Trigger Warning: alcohol, obsession

Summary: she was the only girl in his band whose singing he loved so much. She was the person he truly respected. Andy Miles was someone Hank Williams had an unrelenting obsession with.

Chapter five: Lovesick Blues

POV Hank

He was glad to breathe a sigh of relief in his free chest, feeling as if he were the freest man in the world. Hank was finally able to remove this unpleasant burden that weighed on him in the bonds of an unloved marriage. A marriage that literally drowned him down.

He was glad that he was able to go through everything in court through the proceedings and slander in his direction, written and claimed from Audrey. As if she knew anything about him and understood him at all. And now, Hank, being completely free, can do whatever he wants and can show the love of the girl he loves.

The guy smiled, closing his eyes for a couple of seconds and stopping moving. The beloved girl who will soon become his wife. She would be someone he would cherish and protect beyond measure. Andy will be everything to him, after he finally gets the recognition from the public.

"Why are you frozen, Hank?" There was a sneer from his right, and he turned his head in the direction of the intended speech, realizing that he could have listened to that voice for years without interrupting. He wouldn't care what she said. The main thing is the sound.

Williams was sure that once he and Andy were finally a couple, exchanging light formalities and vows to keep, he would definitely have her humming to him and reading aloud, just enjoying herself.

It was a joy to Hank to hear her voice, soft but slightly hoarse and tired, after a lot of rehearsals, from which he was very tired, but always enjoyed it. He was always so soothing. So gentle and, you might even say, caring, unlike Audrey, a voice that always made him mad.

He knew that he had invited her to the studio just so that she wouldn't yell and make him lose his temper, or else he might have flared up like a match and wouldn't have stopped in his anger, which would have continued to eat at him from the inside out.

Audrey's voice was really terrible. Unpleasant, eating into the brain and piercing it into a million small particles.

Blinking a couple of times, Hank turned his attention to his beloved, who was sitting a foot away from him, looking at him with a puzzled look, slightly raising an eyebrow, which caused small, barely noticeable wrinkles to form on the bridge of her nose. It was very cute.

"It's fine," he says, grabbing the ketchup and quickly unscrewing the white cap. His gaze reluctantly shifts to Don, who just grins. "Here's what, I'm not buying," the guy finally says, pressing down on the middle of the plastic bottle with his fingers.

"A ketchup burger?" Helms asks, adjusting the gold-plated watch on his left hand and nodding at his friend's food.

"Ha, ha, yeah," Hank smiles, tossing the top of the bun on top of the rest and thinking that he probably wouldn't be able to eat the burger without the extra extra. It was sad that no one shared his taste in this kind of food. Although in his opinion, it was deliciously delicious.

"Sammy," he calls out to the guy who was sitting at the opposite table, carefully reading the list of songs listed in the ratings. "Well, have you finished reading?"

"No, I didn't start from the end," he doesn't miss the opportunity to mock, grinning slightly, to which Hank just smiles and continues the banter, in which they measure their sense of humor and ability to tease the other person.

"So they still teach you to read at school," Williams doesn't even look at him, watching out of the corner of his eye as Andy tries to choose where to start eating. The smile on the guy's face does not come off, but only becomes more noticeable.

There's nothing to be heard from the side, and Hank just raises an eyebrow. Just gave up? This is not like him and their usual conversations.

"Funny, Hank," Sammy nods and turns to face his friend, still clutching the small magazine that is important to the musician's fate. "You're not much older than me."

"I was older than you when I was born," Hank says, taking a sip of the scalding coffee, setting the cup down next to him. His attention is completely focused on saying something ironic to Pruett.

However, instead of continuing, the latter gets up from his chair and pushes it back to the table, going over to the others and tossing the publication with the open page, on which the latter has found something that will really attract the attention of the group.

"Look at this," Hank dusts off the small crumbs on his palm and picks up the magazine he's offered. "Take a look," everyone looks at Williams.

The guy's eyes widen. He can't believe it. I don't want to believe it. It seems that this is just a hoax. A lie that will be revealed later. No, it's not possible.

His palms trembled and began to sweat. His mouth fell open. My breath was knocked out, and my heart began to give a loud rhythm, interrupting any sounds and actions from the environment.

First place in popular. First place in sales. His song. His.

He covers his mouth with his hand, trying to hide his smile and the naive look that doubts what he sees. It's too much for him. It's not real and he's sure of it, handing the magazine to Andy, who accepts it happily and with some suspicion.

Hank finally got what he wanted. He was finally able to get at least something that he had worked so hard for for so long. His dream to get into the charts came true.

It remains to implement another one...

"Hank, this... God, congratulations, " Andy says, putting his left arm around him and hitting him on the shoulder with his right, trying to show support. Hank only sends a grateful smile to his beloved, but his gaze is still detached from what is happening.

"I'll tell you what," interrupting his thoughts and disbelief, he leans closer to the table, in the middle of which Miles has placed the magazine. Everyone moves towards him, starting to listen carefully. "And it's not all bullshit. If, after that, I don't get to the Opry," he points a finger at the publication and turns his head towards the girl, starting to laugh. "I'll give up the music," there's laughter, at which Hank slams his hand on the table and rocks back in his chair. "Honestly. Let them then look for me then for me and beg me to sing for them. And they'll have to beg me."

And he wasn't lying. Lying wasn't his style, especially when it came to something he'd devoted his entire adult life to. He can really give up music, even though he will have to listen to his mother's loud talk about how she spent a lot of time driving him around the states in his youth and showing his talent. He'll quit the music. The truth will leave if he does not achieve what he wants, but with him will be his beloved wife, whom he has been trying to get for so long.

***

It's raining. The gray ground seems to droop, and small puddles form on the old black asphalt. Countless splashes of raindrops can be heard in the muddy puddles. Steady noise. The impact of raindrops on the window pane causes unpleasant thoughts.

Andy exhales cigarette smoke, enjoying the weather. Its cloudy mood and the state of nature. She dusts off a bittersweet cheap cigarette and the weightless ash falls on her starched white shirt, which she rarely changes.

Taking another long drag, wanting to enjoy the bright aftertaste. Hank knows this feeling, and he often does it, even though he knows how disgusting it is sometimes. However, this taste of cheap tobacco was always poetic, which he certainly liked. But the guy himself preferred more expensive cigarettes and at some points did not quite understand how Miles even smokes them. The throat after them hurts, and they do not last long, because after the taste disappears altogether, forcing people to think about buying more expensive.

Williams was sure that as soon as he and the girl finally lived together, he would forbid her to buy cheap tobacco.

"You know, Andy..." Pausing for a moment and taking a deep drag on his own cigarette, he waited for her to look at him. "I just realized that inspiration is literally chasing me," he heard a small grin from the side, to which he only smiled, shaking his head and lowering it down, pursing his lips. A small habit that he couldn't get rid of and that showed up in moments of doubt or embarrassment.

"Has the muse finally visited?" Miles joked, and the tobacco smoke filled the small space around them again.

He liked to be near the girl he loved, to whom, if he could, he would dedicate all the odes and songs of the world. He liked to stand with her under the awning of the cafe, smoking the cheap cigarettes he smoked just for her, and watch the restless rain, wishing it would never end and they would enjoy each other's company.

"Yes..." sighed Hank, biting his lower lip with his front teeth and lowering his hand to brush off the ash.

The Muse he was talking about was literally everything to him, and he didn't know why Andy didn't take the hint. He was torn between telling his beloved what he had wanted for so long and remaining silent until the right time came. I didn't want to ruin the established idyll between them, but I didn't want to be silent either. Doubts tormented him for quite a long time and he simply could not properly settle his obsessive thoughts.

***

Hank wandered through the little-known streets, trying to calm down and come to his senses. In his relationship with Audrey, he was always disturbed by quarrels, which he literally hated. They were terrible and very annoying, literally infuriating. What difference does it make if she sings well or poorly? They would have achieved nothing anyway, knowing her not-so-simple nature, expressing defiance and defiance.

His head was down, and his hands were in his pockets, pulling down the trousers that were held at the old belt. His thoughts were currently occupied only with obsessions.

The light wind didn't bother him. Her hair was already disheveled, so there was nothing wrong with it becoming even more messy.

"...I got a feeling called the blues, oh Lord... " a young female voice was heard nearby. Hank raised his head, trying to catch the pleasant and melodious sound coming from. This aroused a genuine interest in him.

He liked that unusual voice. It clearly belonged to a woman, although no, most likely a girl, and a very young one at that. He sounded a little hoarse and tired. As if the person doing this was just trying to calm down and avoid boredom.

"...Since my baby said goodbye.. " came again, and Hank tried to find out where it was coming from. He had never heard a better voice in his life than this girl's.

Williams quickened his pace, straining his ears. It wasn't that far away, so it was safe to say that he wasn't far from the unknown with the amazing voice.

Hank's eyes widened and his lips parted slightly. He looked at her with awe and admiration. She was beautiful. But no, not even that, because she was so damn beautiful.

He had never seen anyone more beautiful than her. Even Audrey, his beloved wife, was terrible compared to this songbird. God, she was beautiful.

He knew that at this moment, in this second of his life, he didn't give a damn about anyone around him. He doesn't care about the problems, the world in general. All that matters is that he has seen the most beautiful stranger.

Her melodious voice caressed his ears. He closed his eyes for a couple of seconds and took a few sharp breaths, saying flattering words to the girl who was sitting on the bench right in front of him.

"Do you want to join my group?"

***

June 11, 1949

Grand Ole Opry, Nashville

He hadn't felt this kind of excitement in a very long time. This jitters that literally enveloped him from head to toe. A sense of fear, uncertainty, and nervousness filled his mind, making it difficult to think rationally.

His hands were sweating, and he began to shake in a slight tremor. He pressed his lips together, trying to calm the rapid beating of his heart.

The only thing that gave him hope and comfort was the belief in what their celebration with Andy would be like today. He thought for a long time and finally realized in his life that the most important step in his life was to marry the girl he loved, which aroused in him the most beautiful and wonderful feelings on earth, expressing love and care. He would protect her.

He took a few sharp breaths, giving his heart time to calm down and stop pounding in his head. On his chest, on the suit, was sewn a small pocket, which at the moment was the most intimate and most sensual thing in the world. Ring. A ring that men give when they get engaged.

The guy exhaled sharply, turning to face his beloved, who was looking at him with an encouraging and encouraging look, as if calling for him to calm down and begin to cope with his difficult feelings. Squeezing his shoulder tightly, as if to show support, Andy smiled at him, and he just nodded at her.

"Hank, Andy!" A gruff voice is suddenly heard calling out to Williams. It doesn't take him long to realize that it's Fred. Smiling a tight smile, showing that he is supposedly not afraid of anything, the guy shifts the guitar case to the other hand and shakes the producer's offered hand. "How are you?"

"Not bad," Andy replies with a shrug, to which Hank is surprised, not understanding why she remains calm and not overwhelmed by excitement. Rose just chuckles at the comment.

"Don't worry, they may kill you, but they won't eat you," the man tries to defuse the tension by straightening his dark tie.

"It's comforting," Hank smiles, looking toward the stage. The stage on which he will perform. The stage on which his whole future uncertain fate will be decided.

"I'm very proud of you, Hank. I'm saying this as your friend, " Fred looks at his friend again, trying to express his support. Hank just looks at Miles, who is looking around the backstage area with a certain calmness and intensity. However, there is also a small, barely noticeable difference in her gaze... was it contempt?

"You can handle it, Hank," Andy looks around at the ceiling and turns his attention back to his dear friend with a slight grin. Williams pursed his lip again, feeling his palms begin to shake again with a slight tremor. She supports him. He exhaled. How nice to hear the support and dear words from a loved one.

"Thank you."

Everything that was happening was a blur to him. His brain still could not accept the information that he was worthy of and finally in his life got what he so ardently and long desired. He will finally get the recognition that he was striving for and then he will have one desire, or more correctly, it will be called a goal that he will need to achieve.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a guest of honor today and this is his first appearance on the Grand Ole Opry show," were the words of the announcer introducing Hank, and he knew that a lump had settled in his throat. He was afraid to sing. It was scary to get censured by people. It was scary to hear their arguments and opinions that he was a bad singer. "Let's welcome the guy who performed Lovesick Blues-Mr. Hank Williams!" He was not impressed by the joyful intonation of his voice and at the moment when he went on stage with a guitar that his mother gave him for his birthday, he was only interested in seeing Andy.

It was important for him to see her and understand that there was no need to worry. That she would be happy to support him and reassure him. That she would just be there to warm and protect his thoughts.

The applause was unexpected.

Williams was aware of the fact that the greeting of a new member of the show was always accompanied by applause, but it was still very pleasant and made him fall into confusion and let his head think that he was worth something.

The instant light blinded him. His lips trembled, and his knees buckled. Williams ' gaze darted to Andy, who only nodded at him, giving him a hopeful look at his moment of doubt in front of an audience that expected a great performance from him.

He gave her a soft smile of gratitude.

"Hi, I'm Hank Williams," he mumbled into the microphone that reverberated through the room, and he reached down to his guitar, running his fingers over it, caressing the strings, and wanting to draw the audience's attention to him. "Guys, turn it on," referring to the band with whom he had previously played the song.

His forehead was sweating and a drop of sweat ran down it. He swallowed and took a rare breath, touched the string again, and closed his eyes, hoping only that he would be received appropriately.

"I got a feelin' called the blues, oh Lords,

Since my baby said goodbye."

The only thing that warmed him with hope and calmed him down was his beloved, who was always ready to show support.

***

He just couldn't believe it. His brain couldn't process everything that had happened a few minutes ago. People took it well and were really inspired and enthusiastic. It was so unreal that he didn't want to think of it as real. It was probably just a dream that wouldn't happen again, but that he would remember for the rest of his life.

Hank couldn't stop smiling. He was so impressed that he felt over the moon when he heard the audience applauding and shouting the words he wanted.

Standing in the backstage area, which was lit by small lights, he just kept his eyes closed, arriving in voluptuous bliss.

"You were amazing, Hank," said a voice he'd known and loved for a long time. He glanced at Andy, who was standing next to him, watching him with a smile that was very often seen on her face.

Williams took a deep breath, grabbing the girl's hand and squeezing it lightly. He looked straight into her eyes, feeling that this was the moment that should have been years ago. The moment when they finally admit to each other in immeasurable love and live "happily ever after". No quarrels, no bickering, no problems. They will be a real family.

His free hand reached into his sewn-on pocket, taking out the small ring he had been searching for for a long time, but which at the moment was the most secret for him and his future wife.

He didn't care that people were looking at them. I don't give a damn. The main thing is that they will finally be reunited.

"You..." He really didn't know what to say, even apart from the fact that he had been preparing for this event for a long time, constantly rehearsing how he would confess. He wanted to express his love in an unimaginable confession, but words just weren't enough. My heart began to beat even faster. "Will you share the burden of life with me? Will you let me be your legal husband by putting this ring on your finger?"

His eyes full of hope were reflected in her eyes, which were full of incomprehension and fear.

[haechanhues]

My Analysis Of Enhypen (From I-Land mostly) and I was going to do it straight out of watching it, but it was like 2am and the next day I was sick so today it is :) (Edit : It took a couple of days to even write it) and I also watched some Enhypen videos so.... yup but I’ll try my best to keep it to my observations with I-Land and like the behind videos 

Sunoo

- My expectation of him : I thought he’d be the loud one like San/Wooyoung  is in ATEEZ from the get go but he was so shy at first. Watching him open up and spread who he is as a person was one of my favourite parts of the show. He also became more confident in himself and his abilities. You may think differently but if you take the first episode and last episode as examples, you’ll be able to see his level of comfort in showing his qualities as a person.

- In saying that, his expressions, especially in brighter concepts astound me. Like in those concepts, he just has the spotlight. For real, for real. He can also do intense concepts too. Amazing. He also has a voice that surprises me, like you’d expect his voice to be slightly higher but it’s among the lower tones (I don’t know the tonal scale)

- He doesn’t really take too harshly to teasing or when the other people poke fun at him. He takes it in good stride (Though nobody should go overboard) He just accepts it as it is with a smile or maybe a little sigh or even just teasing back. He knows it’s all with a good heart. I find that really admirable - it’s not an easy trait to have. Also the fact he can joke with the others as well.

- I love the way he monitors others, especially his members, and like he can make a person feel good. Like the way he without any hesitancy will help style another person’s hair if they asked or whatever. He just wants to do well, together. He wants to share his happiness with other people and I think that’s such a reason to love him. He also is the first to emphasise the beauty in every person. He brings attention to it in such a beautiful, caring way. He also can see the bigger picture so easily and so thoughtfully. Always looking for others.

- In saying all this, I have a theory that he was chosen as the producer’s pick because he has this ability to him. Like a moodmaker is someone that keeps the team’s spirits up and provide the stress relief and I feel he’s more than that? He has absolute faith in other people and can bring out hidden components of a person they didn’t really know they had e.g Sunghoon during Chamber 5/ The Heeseung Aegyo fiasco. Like he has this flamboyancy and shamelessness to him that you can help but join in or that it’s alright to join in.

Sunghoon

- My expectation of him : I thought he’d be a refined person, with a real likeness to someone with a status of a prince. Regality to a tee. But he’s got such a dorky tender heart. He’s so incredibly handsome. I know this is a really shallow and obvious observation. Anyone with two working eyes can see the boy is incredibly gorgeous. But he just leaves you in awe. He’s arguably the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen. I also love how shy and bashful he can get. 

- The way he cherishes the people around him. I feel from the very first episode, he’s not necessarily a social person, but you can tell he wants to get along with everyone.  He’s so comfortable to be around and you want to try anything in your power to make him smile and laugh and be your friend or whatever. During I-Land, you can see it from the way he talks about his sister and his friendship with Jake and the other I-Landers. 

- He’s a massive dork. Like he doesn’t know how cute he is. And because he’s got that Prince look to him and that title attached to him, when you see him being dorky and screeching you can’t help but like that paradox. I think Episode 10 was his episode and that one VR segment too. Like he’s so funny and just he’s a soft spot for me I think. The ‘Pork Slice’ part I want ingrained into what made my life a life worth living. 

- As a leader, it was so interesting to see him work. He helped K a lot with his leadership when Sunghoon left the team. He takes a couple of steps backwards for other people, and at times it scared me, but it ended up so right for him in the end anyway and I’m thankful. It helped people see what kind of a person he is and I’m glad he had other people looking after him. He also is careful and accepts suggestions and sincerely works with each of them. He makes observations on his own too. 

- This can be interrelated but I think a large massive part of why he’s in Enhypen is how hard he works. He works diligently and wholeheartedly. He’s a quiet powerhouse in that respect. He does his work without the need for attention but solely to improve his skills as a performer and for his future. He doesn’t care if his hands get dirty. As long as one person, even if it’s himself has faith in him, he’ll do it. 

Heeseung 

- My expectation of him : I thought he’d be known as The Ace and hardworking and etc. It wasn’t a wrong assumption but I think we can go into more detail. He’s a really talented person and I mean that with every fibre of my being. From the very first episode, he’s labelled as the ‘Ace’ and it continues throughout the programme so when he does debut, it isn’t too much of a surprise, if at all. 

- Too be honest, I’m not really sure if this counts but I’m going to add it anyway. His relationship with his brother (so hilarious) is such a heartwarming moment. In I-Land he was one of the older ones (I think) and someone with a leadership role and so a lot of people relied on him. But it was great to see he had a good support system who he loves and adores with all his heart. The way his older brother is a source of energy for him really made my heart go into overdrive. So fucking cute. 

- As a leader, I feel a bit like stupid for mentioning it cause it’s so obvious, but he’s got leadership skills. (Duh) But like as a leader, he works on the synergy of the team. He’s patient, stern and is usually almost on the right path. He’s someone very reliable and his objective is clear. He wants to fit the concept as well as he can and makes sure that everyone is on the same page without anyone falling behind. 

- He also has the ability to let loose and have fun. He makes jokes and tries things out because it looks fun. He’s under a shit ton of pressure, especially on I-Land as the ‘Ace’ and I’m grateful he’s able to enjoy his time with the other contestants. He actually plays around quite a bit and his smile is so wide and bright, it’s so nice to see. 

- Even though he’s not the leader in Enhypen now, he has a role of being a caretaker. He helps out when he’s needed (e.g Helped out Taki for the BTS performance) He’s a really thoughtful and understanding person. He’s always the first one to state problems and then come up with solutions. When someone feels bad for getting criticisms, he takes it as his own as well. He doesn’t want to succeed solely. 

Jake

- My expectation of him : No joke it’s just Aussie, at first. He was the first Enhypen member/I-Land contestant who I ever learnt about. I also think he’s a little like Eric from The Boyz. Slightly. Just, not as crazy. Like it’s weird just seeing a not-loud Eric and/or a crazy Jake. Also, he’s really attractive. I don’t know exactly why he’s so attractive but there’s something about him you just can’t describe in words. 

- His debut astounds me the most. Not because I didn’t think he could do it. But because he had such a short training period and even as a trainee he had to exceed hundreds of others (500 others/499 others?) to be let into the company. He’s just got this natural luck to him as well. Imagine that. He’s also quite an adaptable and fast learner. He always seems to improve with every little thing he learns and it always has such an impact. 

- He’s got a charming way of performing. He may not be as rich in skill training as the other contestants or members and often gets criticism for it. But every time he had a performance where you forget about it. He’s got this irresistible charm on stage. You want to learn more about him, watch him more and he plays his role really well. 

- His eyes are so sparkly and they just lure you in. He’s currently one of the only boys I’ll accept lip bites from (I usually find them cringe). But he makes it look natural. He gets so excited with new possibilities - new opportunities of fun, to get to know other people and know the people he knows more. He always engages with every situation with eagerness and acceptance. 

- As I mentioned before, he’s the icon of growth. Yes, everyone knows it. But you don’t look at him and see his inexperience nor the lack of skills in comparison. You want him to debut immediately and grow with him. Out of all of them, I feel like you look at him and apply yourself in his shoes. You want him to succeed and to learn and to grow and you want to hold his hand during the whole process. You want to watch and do the same with yourself. 

Niki

- My expectation of him : I thought he was going to be a mood maker of the team cause I saw a lot of compilations of him being groovy and weird. It’s a weird thing to say but he reminded me of seaweed in the game of Seaweed (I don’t know how to explain this game to anyone, it’s kind of like tag I guess except when you get tagged you have to act like seaweed in the ocean) or like those inflatable balloon people at car autos or something. Weird analogy but- He’s actually quite chic. 

- From the very first episode and all to the very end, he’s a very skillfull dancer. He picks up the dances quickly and he’s such a small person but he has this way of performing large gestures that astound you. He was a really meticulous teacher too. A stickler for details. He’s very satisfying to watch dance. When he’s in the zone of dancing, it’s really beautiful and you just want him to perform more and he could do the same dance again and again and it’d still have the same impact it did the first time. 

- In I-Land, in the earlier episodes he struggled with the team aspect. He was amazing individually and could lead the team well during dancing. But wanted to show the best version of himself and forget about the rest of the team. BUT, if you look at him now, he knows the importance of his teammates and strives for the best. He also allowed himself to open up emotionally and cried more and adored more. (I noticed this moment especially with Hanbin, Sunoo, Taki and those who were eliminated) 

- During the show, it didn’t really show Niki enough being playful. I think we got to see cheery Niki when he received the hanbok from Jungkook. But you can see it better in the behind I-Land videos with the sheep costume that Jungwon wears and during Enhypen’s debut. But my favourite moment is when Jungwon wants to sneeze and he looks at him and he’s like ‘Jungwon hyung ANDWAEEE’ and his voice and everything is going to be stamped into my head. 

- He’s practically made to be an idol. His dancing is one thing but when he takes pictures and has to fit concepts that his hyungs find awkward, he just does it with such a chic way of doing things. He knows where to angle his head and he’s gotten so good at expressions. Off stage, he’s chic yet playful and extremely loving with his hyungs. 

Jay

My expectation of him : First of all, the whole reason I’m into Enhypen is because of him. He’s the reason I watched the show. He’s almost always my avatar on Rhythm Hive. I expected him to be confident and good at everything. He’s also really good looking. Like, the type of guy I’d have a crush on if he lived in my country type of crush. 

- He’s a great speaker. His ability to give feedback and constructive criticism is an amazing feat. He points out problems carefully and constructs a solution. He does so in a way that he creates a feeling of trust and faith. I’m terrible with criticism, like I can accept it but I don’t know how to reply to it. But with Jay, I actually want him to provide feedback. 

- He’s a really intense performer. He’s just constantly burning and his gaze is like a promise. He uses emotion to perform harder and to outdo himself and to prove to others that they’d regret making their decision. He is very emotional and it shows when he performs. A really determined person to do well in everything he does. He’s got this wild and untamed look in his eye but his body is very controlled and confident. It’s seriously a good look on him. It’s really attractive. 

- His leadership qualities are amazing. He knows how to utilise everyone’s talents to make the team standout more. He has an in depth understanding of everyones personalities and talents enough to put them in the right position. (That sounds like a report card). He’s also not as hardheaded as I had expected him to be, he’s flexible and is able to listen to everyones opinions and communicate on an equal level. He helps out without taking complete control over the situation. 

- He’s the moodmaker! Yes, he’s responsible for about 95% of the memes and quotes in I-Land. I don’t think I have to quote them. In saying that he’s pretty much the victim of Enhypen and I-Land pretty much. 

- I think the way he is so emotionally driven is what makes him stand out. He is the epitome of a fiery personality. He’s so unapologetically him and also open about what he’s feeling and what he’s aiming for, which is considerably quite new considering how boys are kind of taught to suppress their emotions. He also doesn’t let his emotions dictate how he treats a person. He treats them fairly, even when he’s disappointed or angry at someone. Watching him succeed and sometimes fail and promise to come back, genuinely felt like he was destined for it and wasn’t waiting for Lady Luck to shine on him. He goes and does shit done himself. He invokes so many emotions and empathies in other people. 

Jungwon 

- My expectation of him : When I was watching KCON:TACT 3 I was really attracted to his voice and they way he talked and danced. Though I didn’t expect to end up biasing him to the point of no return. Never in my life have I loved a boy quite like this. I don’t know it feels different. It felt different with both Haechan, Kyungsoo and Sunwoo but this is all so different this feeling right here. Warning : This is going to be extremely biased. Like no joke. I’m sorry, this boy is just going to have longer lines but I’ll still keep to the same bullet points. 

- He’s so lovely. So so lovely. He has this ability to smile and have fun and tease and make little comments. His eyes are like hypnosis. You’re able to look at him, see the uplifting of his smile and every one of his facial features are uplifted so it makes his expressions brighter, more welcoming and more trusting.  He’s got broad shoulders and like someone you want to cuddle and watch with stars in your eyes. Like that chick is so right, ‘you’re someone I can’t live without now.’ The way he reacts to such comments, bashful smile and the whole hand over his mouth. He’s so pretty. I don’t want him to be sad or whatever. 

- He’s so accepting of other forms of life and doesn’t care for status, wealth, age or whatever. For him, if they’re part of the team, they’re part of the team and he’ll look after them as a team member. He puts his importance on things that actually matter and looks to create an atmosphere where he can be relied on and that others feel comforted. He has fun and talks with others with softness and makes others feel engaged. He’s so fucking attentive. Like he understands other people well and has high observation skills. Like if one is upset, he’ll just quietly go to comfort them and give attention in a soothing matter. He’s also got a soothing voice. I love hearing him talk. 

- The hidden ACE. He made an impact during the competition at significant times. I think the reason why many contestants and him, himself went down the ranks was because they were previously in the higher ranks and were believed to be safe. But as a vocalist, he has such a clear and stable voice. You can recognise his voice immediately, even when I wasn’t a Enhypen stan, I could recognise his voice even without knowing who he was. But as a dancer, he’s so amazing at it. Like, his popping and his ability to do intense choreographies. As a performer he understands nuances, meanings and the concepts of a song and understands his role in the performance. Him getting praises was my favourite thing ever. I think he was a favourite among the producers. Though when he did have stumbles, I was so worried for him. Like no, I refuse. 

- He’s got an optimistic way of thinking, without being overcompensating. Basically when things don’t necessarily go the way it was set out to or when others suggest another way of doing things, he takes his time to think about it and decides. He basically uses it as a tool to grow and adapt in order to produce the best results. Now that I’m thinking about it, rather than being optimistic, I would say he’s an opportunist(?) in a sense. He’ll accept the suggestions and has this greed to live up to and exceed the expectations. This is easily seen when Jungwon isn’t doing too well doing part 5 and ends up swapping with Heeseung. And he also has this greed. It’s a greed I’ve never seen before. The goals are the same but in a way that’s different?; He doesn’t  want his grandmother to be devastated if he is eliminated, he wants to be an artist that does music he loves, ‘it’ll be even more impressive if we can go beyond their expectation’. He uses the current happenings as a way to exceed them and to go beyond capacity. In short he’s a realist without being stuck, he’s an idealist without being too high up in the clouds, he’s optimistic but not unrealistic. It’s inspiring, he’s inspiring. They all are but Jungwon has my heart at the moment. 

[buildhope]

@lingeringscars​, @ghosthaunt​ sent 👪 for an important person 

this has been sitting in my inbox for a while because i’m very vocal  ( as is alden )  about the important people in alden’s life so i wanted to talk about something i haven’t very often.  obviously the most important people in his life are earl, tammy rose, and adam,  his family,  but there’s also henry,  who he sees as a little brother / a younger version of himself,  and enid, his first relationship,  and luke, his best friend,  along with his birth mother + older brother —-  all of which i usually never shut up about anyway,  so this post is for maggie.

he and maggie haven’t always seen eye to eye;  she was his prisoner,  she intended to use him as as hostage against the other saviors,  etc.  but alden knew,  even just from meeting her for the first time,  that part of her interactions with him / the other hostages was just a persona.  he got to hilltop and it was the first time he saw that places like this could actually exist.  he had already decided he wasn’t going back to the sanctuary whether or not they let them go,  because hilltop gave him hope  --  and it’s maggie’s leadership that did that,  even when she was supposed to be the enemy   (  but like he said to her,  ‘i don’t think we have to [be the enemy].’  )  

even as maggie’s hostage,  alden was trying to look out for her.  he saw her for who she was rather than who she thought she had to be against the saviors.  he understood why she thought she had to be a certain way and he didn’t try to taunt her for it;  he genuinely wanted to help her see that her feelings were valid and that he would support her for it,  even though his opinion wouldn’t matter to her,  because he thought she deserved to be heard.  the others probably just felt threatened / expendable  ---  but alden could see that maggie was more than just that person she was trying to make herself out to be against them.  she was good,  she didn’t want to just kill to kill;  she wanted to make things right.  and this wasn’t the right way,  but it’s why he was so patient with her.  

he does feel like he owes a lot to her for letting him stay at hilltop.  it wasn’t just that he didn’t have a home;  hilltop was a choice that he made.  he wanted to be there,  he wanted to follow a leader like her,  he wanted to be around the people of hilltop who had all voted her into leadership  ---  as opposed to his previous ‘community,’  where there was no voting,  rather just a bunch of assholes who continuously tried to take over leadership and control the people there.  he respected maggie and that’s a big part of why he chose that to be his home,  even after she had spent the past few weeks pointing a gun at him and telling him he would never be their people.  he is now,  because he’s been loyal to her even before he was ‘supposed’ to be. 

i think that before maggie left,  they formed a really good bond.  she obviously trusted him to make hilltop into something even better,  and beyond that,  she trusted his opinions + his plans  (  even if she didn’t always agree to follow them;  but even then,  alden always understood her perspective and respected it / didn’t try to push where it wasn’t welcome.  )    alden didn’t always agree with her choices either,  even as a leader  ---  particularly the public execution of gregory,  which made him uncomfortable,  though he still trusted her instinct and was grateful that she hadn’t done the same for earl and gave him another chance.  but even when he didn’t agree with her choices,  he respected her  + he tried to understand her.  

even since before they were friendly,  he’s always been trying to understand her and trying to anticipate what’s best for her.  it’s why he’s always called her on it when she threatened the saviors before,  because like he said, “you don’t want to do this”  ---  and it’s because he can tell that she isn’t some mindless killer.  she can stand her ground without making it a bloodbath like the people she’s against,  and he’s always worked to try to help ground her in that way,  out of respect and care for her.  

i imagine there were a lot of conversations between them as she was planning to leave.  he really wanted to keep making hilltop into the best place for their community to live,  and he wanted her to trust him to do that while she was gone.  hilltop is very much about the sutton legacy between earl and alden’s construction --- but the heart of it,  the people there,  it’s about maggie’s legacy, too.  he wanted to make her proud,  not just of him,  but in this community that she had come to make something special on her own too.  it’s pretty clear that she believed in him,  which is very important to alden because he needed that.  

there was a lot of respect for her mission,  too.  of course he wanted her to stay at hilltop because she had become his friend and a very important person in his life,  but he’s very big on following who you are / what you want,  and going with georgie was what she wanted,  so he respected that.  he also was a bit envious of it because he thought what georgie was doing was really powerful;  he himself took her book and ran with it and had done great things with it,  so he understood why she would want to join her.  he’s always been anticipating her return,  and a big part of that is learning about the lives they affected on that journey,  just as georgie had done for hilltop.

during the whisperer war,  he fought so hard for hilltop because of his son,  but maggie was part of that, too.  he always believed that she would come back someday,  and he wanted her to come back to something even stronger and more beautiful than how she left it.  that’s how it was supposed to be.  seeing it burn down broke his heart for a thousand reasons,  but she was part of that,  too.  and i think that’s really important for their relationship going forward;  he’s always going to feel like he’s let her down even though this was so beyond his control,  because she deserved to come back to her home,  fortified and better than ever,  not the ashes of it surrounded by bodies. 

he told her that ‘ she gave him a life ‘  -- - and that’s true.  there was no life to live at the sanctuary.  there was no heart,  no community,  no love,  no happiness,  no future at the sanctuary.  but there was all of that at hilltop,  led by someone he thought was really special and such an important voice for the community there.  so he doesn’t always agree with maggie,  and they’re not always on the same page  ---  but they disagree with one another in a way that’s respectful and understanding,  and i think that’s why it’s such an important relationship for him.

maggie’s return is obviously really impactful for a lot of characters still currently on the show,  and alden being a minor character probably means they’re not going to have as much screentime interacting as the characters definitely deserve with each other,  but i’m hoping we get more anyway.  i feel like it’s more important now than ever that they do get that chance  ---  enid was maggie’s family and she died while she was gone;  alden obviously has so much to tell maggie about the life that enid lived while maggie was gone,  and how proud she should be of all that she accomplished.  the two of them, out of anyone, probably are the most heartbroken about hilltop’s destruction given that the two of them had been leaders of the community.  i’m hoping they get their chance to have that friendship on screen that they had been building towards before she left.

[ironwoman359]

Hello. I saw the post you reblogged about toxicity in the TS fandom. And as someone who is relatively new (Just over 2 months, heyo!), may I ask what kind of toxic behaviour do you see in the fandom? I hope this isn't too much for me to ask, I was just a bit curious and wanted some clarification on the matter. Please feel free to ignore this if it bothers you!

Well, welcome to the fandom, first of all! I hope you’re having fun so far. 

In regards to the post you’re talking about, I think @izzyfandoms said it best: “...most fandoms are okay but have a loud toxic minority, but for us the not-toxic people are often the loudest so we can come off as pure and perfect...” 

Most fandoms do have an amount of toxic behavior in them, it’s very rare (I’d say impossible, actually) to find one with zero problems, but it’s also usually more noticable in other communities than in this fandom, as we have been fortunate to have the non-toxic majority also be the louder voices most of the time (most often in fandoms, toxicity is a loud minority, though there are of course exceptions to this as well). 

The other thing I think is important to remember is that this fandom started out smaller than it is now. I’ve been a presence here since november 2017, and there are other who have been around even longer, and back then, the fandom was much smaller and therefore the toxic minority was even harder to notice. This led to us gaining a reputation of “purity,” which in turn made issues more complicated when they started to crop up. Every fandom is going to have issues, things that people in it disagree about, and people who try to stir up trouble. This is normal, and a fandom displaying those traits is not immediately a bad fandom. What can shift a fandom into an unhealthy one is when issues, disagreements, and drama become the focal point and people begin to treat each other poorly over these things. And I would say a majority of fanders are good at not falling into that type of thinking or acting. But it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist, and it doesn’t mean that the fandom as a whole can just stick our heads in the sand and pretend everything is fine. 

So, you asked me what toxic behaviors I see. I’m going to talk about some examples I’ve seen in this fandom, and before I do I’d like to state first off that it is not my intention to attack anyone specific, or to shame people for their tastes in characterizations, ships, or their triggers or squicks. This is me trying to give my open and honest opinion about this community while being as respectful and tactful as possible. 

Also going forward, every time I say “the fandom” or “people” or refer to the community in some other all encompassing way, know that I do not mean every single person in it, or even a majority necessarily, just enough people to make it noticable. If you exhibit some of the behaviors I’m talking about, I’m not saying you’re a bad person or that you shouldn’t be here, far from it. But everyone has flaws, and these are just some common things that I see in this community. Maybe if you see yourself in this post, you can take a step back and consider your thoughts and actions to see how they may be harming you or others.��

Regardless of everything I’ve said and am about to say, I really love this fandom and the people in it, and I’m incredibly grateful for the impact it’s had on my life. Some bumps in the road aren’t going to change that. (Also I don’t engage with the fandom much outside of tumblr, things may be different on twitter, discord, or other places, this is just my experience with this platform specifically. Okay? Okay.)

So...here’s what I see in this fandom:

It is quick to judge. Anyone been here long enough to remember the week when Roman was “cancelled” between Accepting Anxiety part 1 and part 2? I came into the community later that year, but the fandom elders can tell you, there was a rally against Roman as a character, and a slew of people calling out prinxiety shippers for shipping such a “toxic ship.”  You’d think after that first time, the community would have learned to perhaps be not so quick in its judgements, but we’ve seen the same pattern over and over again.

People were quick to judge Deceit when his character was introduced, which was followed by a back and forth where people argued about what was and wasn’t “sympathetic” content, how things should be tagged, and 

People were quick to judge Virgil after Embarrassing Phases

People were quck to judge Patton after SvS and Patton AND Virgil after DWIT. 

People were quick to judge Remus after DWIT.

And here’s the thing, it’s fine if you have different interpretations of characters, or prefer certain versions. You see Patton’s character flaws and decide “you know what, this character isn’t for me now” or want to explore those flaws taken to their extremes? That is okay. What is not okay, and what this fandom does a lot, is insisting that YOUR interpretation and version of the character is the correct one and shaming people with different ideas. It’s fine if you don’t like Patton or take issue with his current flaws being displayed. It’s NOT fine to attack people who disagree and send anon hate to blogs who speak out in support of Patton. It’s fine if you don’t like unsympathetic sides content. It’s NOT fine to shame people who do or send anon hate to unsympathetic sides blogs. There are lots of different ways to interpret all SIX sides, and yet so often I see people go on some sort of crusade to defend their opinon and insist that it’s canon. 

But that’s all just the characters, this fandom also is very quick to judge the individuals in it. Real, breathing people with lives outside the internet are often shamed or attacked for their opinions about the characters, different ships, the way they’ve chosen to portray the characters in their art or stories, I could go on. Purity culture and cancel culture are prevalant in all areas of the internet, and this fandom is not exempt from it. Demonizing people for making small mistakes, or even for just disagreeing with you, is never okay, and yet it is something I’ve seen again and again in this fandom. Which leads me to my next point...

Anon hate. God, it makes me so angry, and this is the only one that I won’t try to portray both sides of or be diplomatic about, because it is flat out unacceptable no matter the circumstance. There are so many blogs in this fandom that have horrible anon hate problems, and I am sick of seeing it. I don’t care what a person has done or what opinions they have that you may disagree with, I don’t care if they’re the worst person in the world. It’s not okay to send anon hate, and it’s not okay to tell people to kill themselves. You find a blog in this fandom that you just Do Not like, either because of their content, their opinions, hell, just their personality? Unfollow them. Block them if you want. But sending anon hate over ships, characters, opinions and statements, it’s just childish and unacceptable. And it happens enough in this fandom that there are people who are afraid of making statements about things for fear of attracting more of that energy. Love always follows the hate and drowns it out in this fandom, for which I’m grateful, but the hate shouldn’t exist in the first place. Cut that shit out. 

In general, this fandom has not handled differing opinions well, be it opinions on how to tag content, disagreements over characterizations, or encountering an idea that you personally may not care for. It is ultimately up to individuals to curate their online experience, by unfollowing blogs they don’t like, blocking tags and blogs they don’t want to see, and reading summaries and content warnings before opening fics. Often in this fandom I think people get upset if something isn’t tagged the way they want it to be (and I’m not talking about not tagging triggers, I’m talking like, someone insisting a blogger tag deceit content as #ts deceit when they already tag it as #deceit sanders. In situations like that it is the responsibilty of that someone to either block the tags a blog is using or not follow blogs whose tagging system doesn’t work for them), or if someone disagrees with them and we forget that it is okay to just...unfollow people. You don’t have to follow every blog in this fandom to be a part of the community, and if a blog is making posts and content you don’t like, unfollow them, don’t attack them for it. Accept that they have as much a right to their opinions and their space in the fandom as you do, and adjust your block and follow list accordingly so that you can get the experience that YOU want out of this fandom. 

I hope this was helpful, and I hope it didn’t get too long for you. I’m not putting this under a cut because I think it’s important, but I will tag it as #longpost so my mobile users don’t suffer too much. If you want to discuss this in the notes, please keep it civil, and remember that we all are fans of Thomas here, and that we probably have more in common than we do differences. I love you guys, stay awesome

[officerrxyes-inactive]

Fox’s Pride Round table Discussion Highlights

feat. Brian Michael Smith and Rafael Silva

This isn’t perfect but it’s my rough take on what Brian and Rafa talked about in the stream. I highly recommend checking it out on your own if you have the time! Besides what’s mentioned below, the other guests had some incredible things to say as well and I think it’s really important everyone checks it out. It’s available on Fox’s pages on Instagram, Facebook, Youtube, and Hulu!

See my notes under the cut (I wrote them on my phone so and I have capitalization turned off and I’m not going through and fixing it... there’s also probably some spelling mistakes oops. Also this was just my take on what they said but if you got something else and find any of my paraphrasing incorrect and/or disrespectful please let me know!)

•brian talks about being a black trans actor on a major primetime tv show and what it was like to experience it, especially with it being pride month. it was a lot of what he said in his live with ronen. he explains how monumental it was on a personal and collective level. he also talks about the people who have reached out to him; parents of trans youth and trans people themselves, some out, some still in the closet. they tell him how much it means to them that kind of representation his character has brought to television, and that the character is played by a trans actor. he mentions growing up he didn’t even know there were other people like him. he grew up loving and watching film and wanting to do that but feeling like that’s not possible. even when he started acting he thought he would only be able to get background work or facing the fear that he may be outed and face violence. but now to be able to see better representation of real trans experiences, mentioning laverne cox on oitnb, he realized there was a way to tell trans stories in a way that was authentic. once he realized that was possible, he decided that’s what he wanted to do since that’s the skills he’s aquired in life and that’s what he’s lived through. he wants to use the talent he was given in acting and storytelling to bring something that many other people might not have seen and that they need to see. he is so grateful to be able to play a trans character on a such a large scale. he says that film is one thing but television is in your living room, in your home, so to bring that sort of representation into the homes of people that may not have otherwise seen it, or be able to relate to it, is going to change the way they relate to people in real life and how they respond to news. it will feel personal and he is happy to be apart of that.

•rafa talks about what pride means to him. he shouts out the people that came before him that fought so he could be here today (directly and indirectly). he also talks about the importance of self reflection and self education because we need to recognize and learn about those who have come before us and allow us to take the stand that we currently do. he says the pride is the recognition of everyone, whether he knows them personally or not. he mentions that it’s important to recognize stonewall and the aids crisis when reflecting on our history. he identifies himself as out and gay (we knew he had a husband right and previously said he was in the lgbtq community but this is the first time he labeled himself correct?). he talks about ryan murphy, and how he makes television for everyone who has been oppressed. he says that pride is also embracing everyone in the lgbtqia+ community. he says that as a community, we do a great job at advocating for ourselves in but there are other issues that need to be addressed such as racism and transphobia that still exist within. he says that who are we to tell other to accept us if we don’t accept ourselves fully and we need to take responsibility. pride is calling people out, calling people in, bringing it to the light, self education, and celebrate who you are.

•brian talks about how you don’t have to be an activist or an expert to contribute or be apart of this. there are people out there who have dedicated their lives to advocating for change and building the framework for the stuff we are seeing now so you don’t have to be an expert in something to contribute. just by having conversations with friends and family, or calling out people when they say/do something problematic or by educating yourself can have an impact. he also talks about ways to use your position or talent to create a path for someone who has the experience to come in an amplify the message. he says it’s important to recognize when to step out of the way and let someone’s voice be amplified if it’s not your place to speak on their behalf. he says you don’t have to be an expert or have the skills bc there are people around you who do and will step up.

•rafa talks about coming out in hollywood and if he felt pressured to keep his identity a secret when he was starting out. he says that growing up in brazil, it was ingrained to be strong and not talk about it (he says some specific word but i can’t pick it out). he came out when he was 19, right after college and he didn’t know what he was doing when he came out but he needed to get it off his chest. coping with coming out and having just moved to nyc, he says the shame was always there since it was happening in the most formative years of ones life. he does feel pressured to conform to a certain type of behavior, then and now. but also recognizes that he feels this way and he doesn’t have to. he says that he tries to own up, be himself, and say the things that he wants to say (and if that’s gay, than nice, that’s the point :) he says that as soon as you own up to the way you feel, power is bound to happen. he says that being yourself, you aren’t sure how that will impact other people. when you help yourself, you allow others to do the same. he talks about how the blm movement encouraged to own up to who he is as an immigrant, latinx, gay man in this industry and outside of it.

•brian talks about his hope for the future with regard to fox’s tv for all. he says it’s phenomenal that he’s black trans man playing a series regular on a major tv network. he also notes that it’s a positive representation, playing one of the most heroic positions in society. and by putting a black trans person in that position is beyond significant. he wants to continue to see that expansion with more normalization. he praises ryan murphy for doing a good job bringing these stories to light. he wants to continue to see the representation of people who are nonbinary, genderqueer, disabled, and older trans people on tv. he notes that these roles should be significant as well, not just minor or side characters. many people feel alone in the community and their connection is through what they watch so it’s so important to show that in media. he says that kids need to see this kind of representation and that if he had seen a black trans father on tv as a kid, he would probably be on a very different path.

•rafa shared his last thoughts, saying how easy it is to act on emotions and go with the crowd when everyone else feels the same way and the same time. he thinks that the way to keep it going is when all the emotions are gone and we are left with rationality, is when we need to be strongest and push for change. when it’s not easy or comfortable, that’s when the growth will start.

[delicioussshame]

Happy New Year! Have a transition chapter.

If there is a thing Luo Binghe doesn’t understand, it’s whatever appeal Shang Qinghua holds.

There must be something of note to this insignificant man, for Shizun to consider him a friend. For all that Shen Qingqiu disparages Shang Qinghua all the time, Luo Binghe is too familiar with his husband’s temperament not to notice the affection hiding behind the harsh words. Their relationship is not only that of fellow peak lords.

Why did his husband, usually so discriminate, decide to favor this man out of all?

Even more incomprehensible, Shang Qinghua has managed to enthrall Mobei-Jun? Someone who, up to this point, had remained cold to all advances made to him? Luo Binghe admits he has sometimes enjoyed watching the women who had their heart set on him turn to the next best option, his second-in-command, only to have all their flirting hit the unbreakable wall of ice that was Mobei-Jun, all without causing a single crack. It had been one of the reasons why he’d felt it safe to hand him Shizun’s care. He couldn’t imagine Mobei-Jun would open up for the husband of his superior. Luo Binghe flattered himself that Mobei-Jun respected and trusted him too much to attempt such an affront.

Then again, they had struck an accord that Luo Binghe did not regret. Shen Qingqiu needed all the allies he could gather in the demon world, since his position as Luo Binghe’s sole spouse made him the target of more enemies than could be imagined. Knowing Shen Qingqiu has someone on his side when Luo Binghe left him behind did make it easier for him not to worry.

Maybe he could consider Shang Qinghua as one such ally? He was heavily involved in this realm too, after all, and managed it well enough not to have his own share of enemies, as far as Luo Binghe knows. He might be wrong about this. He doesn’t pay Shang Qinghua much attention.

At this point, he might as well ask his husband. Shizun taught all his students that knowledge is power. If Luo Binghe understood Shen Qingqiu’s relationship with Shang Qinghua, it might soothe some of his worries. Since he’s going to be an important part of Mobei-Jun’s life and thus, of his and Shen Qingqiu’s, a few questions should be acceptable. “Shizun?”

Shen Qingqiu lifts his eyes from the book he’s reading.

Luo Binghe feels a hint of guilt at interrupting Shen Qingqiu’s leisure time.

“Yes?”

“Why are you friends with Shang Qinghua?”

Shen Qingqiu sputters, his countenance disturbed by the unexpected question. “What? We’re not friends!”

Luo Binghe sighs. Why does Shizun bother to lie about such matters? He’s terrible at it. “Why do you spend time with him then? You both see each other quite often, not to mention Shizun arranged his relationship with Mobei-Jun. Surely you wouldn’t have extended them this courtesy if you didn’t believe they were worthy of one another? “

Shen Qingqiu has pulled his fan, and is using it to try to hide his discomfort with the subject at hand. It’s cute. “Their affairs are their own business! I just gave them a tiny little push! Why does Binghe care who I spend time with?”

What a ridiculous question. “I care about how Shizun spends every second of every day, of course. I’m just not quite certain why Shen Qingqiu chooses to do so with Shang Qinghua. This disciple’s insight pales when compared to his master’s; if he could illuminate his stupid student on the matter, this Luo Binghe would be forever grateful.”

As expected, Shen Qingqiu rises to pat Luo Binghe’s head, his discomfiture forgotten in his urge to console Luo Binghe. “Binghe isn’t stupid! Anyone would have difficulty noticing Shang Qinghua’s qualities. The few he has are well hidden.”

He leans into it shamelessly. Also like he didn’t say what he just said to get this exact reaction. “What are they?”

Shen Qingqiu falters for a moment, but Luo Binghe tilts his head in his hand and stares at him with wide eyes. “He’s… learned? Sometimes. He occasionally remembers things I don’t. We share… similar interests as scholars. He can be a good listener, if not a very good advice giver.”

That’s… surprising. “How did you find out you two had similar interests? You didn’t meet very often when we were still on Qing Jing Peak.”

“I… Shang Qinghua and I are from the same place. We did not know one another intimately, but because of it we share… values that some other cultivators don’t.”

Luo Binghe straightens. It is extremely rare from Shen Qingqiu to talk about anything regarding his past. When the topic comes up, he is usually very evasive. Luo Binghe doesn’t push him. He wants to know everything there is to know about his husband, but not if Shen Qingqiu doesn’t want to talk about it. What has passed long ago has no impact on their current life.

Or at least he thought this was how it was, but if the past is what ties Shen Qingqiu and Shang Qinghua… “Where did you two come from?” A place that could create Shen Qingqiu, whose noble nature can be noticed by the blind, and Shang Qinghua, who does not possess even a fraction of a similar presence. “We could visit! I would love to see where Shizun grew up.” What a place it must be, for it to have given birth to his husband. He imagines it is just as beautiful and serene as him, with only the sounds of the wind travelling through the bamboo to disturb the peaceful silence.

Shen Qingqiu squirms, just a little. “We can’t.

“Why not?”

“Because… it’s unreachable.”

“Was it destroyed?” Wars, bandits, monsters, natural disasters. Anything can happen to a measly village.

“No, it’s not that, it’s… I didn’t plan on talking to Binghe about this today! Give me a minute!”

Luo Binghe flinches a bit at his husband’s unexpected outburst. He remains still and quiet after, giving Shen Qingqiu the time he requested.

Shen Qingqiu sighs. “Binghe has a right to know. He should have been told a long time ago, really. I just… was afraid he will not like what he will hear. Would he prefer not to be told about it?”

Luo Binghe shakes his head, cutting off his husband’s escape route. Whatever this is, Shen Qingqiu seems to be troubled by it. From what he just said, this secret has been weighing down on him. It would be better for him to free himself from it, so that they can work on the problem together.

“Just like the other you, the one who appeared, Shang Qinghua and I do not come from this world. We come from a completely different world, a different time, really. We died, then we came here. The big difference between us is that while Shang Qinghua was born in the body he is inhabiting, I arrived later. The real Shen Qingqiu, the one who earned this title… He did not survive the fever he suffered from when you were still a disciple.”

He’s not lying. Why would he?

Luo Binghe has no idea how to react to this revelation, so instead he’ll react to his husband’s tense frame, like he expects to be hit. “I believe you.”

Shen Qingqiu turns almost frightened eyes toward him. “You do?”

Luo Binghe nods. “My husband would not lie to me about this.”

…Are Shen Qingqiu’s eyes turning wet? Really?

He’s never seen Shen Qingqiu cry.

“Does Binghe still consider this master… no, this man, his husband? Despite the deception? Despite the many treacheries he had to accomplish to keep hiding? Because I would understand if Binghe didn’t. He married his husband under false pretenses, so if he wanted to reconsider, I would cooperate. I could return to the peak until he decides what he wants to do, or maybe visit the human realm, where no one cares who I am. Whatever Binghe wants, I will facilitate, I promis-”

Luo Binghe shuts his husband up by pressing a finger to his lips. “Shizun has said enough.”

Shen Qingqiu audibly stops talking.

“This is… a complicated matter. Something I will need to think about. Something I want to hear more, much more, about. But first: did Shizun decide to come here? Did he pick his body?” Did you kill your predecessor, husband of mine?

He removes the finger.

“No! No to both questions! I woke up in this body, and the System, that’s the… deity is the easiest comparison, responsible for mine and Shang Qinghua’s situations, enforced my silence about it.”

Luo Binghe nods. “I see. Then, since the man in front of me is the one I fell in love with, I see no reason why things would change. Shizun should remain here, and we can discuss it further. Later, maybe, when Shizun has calmed down a little.” He takes his husband in his arm and holds him there, until Shen Qingqiu has regained his inner equilibrium.

He holds him a little longer, just because he can.

______________

Something weird is going on.

Shang Qinghua is being tailed.

Well, not really. They’re not being subtle about it. From the moment he set foot inside Luo Binghe’s palace, two burly demons have been following him everywhere he goes.

He would have said something if they weren’t wearing Luo Binghe’s livery.

Hopefully they’ll get bored of watching Shang Qinghua pouring over the books of Luo Binghe’s library and leave to do something worth their time.

Except Big Scary Demon number 2 decides to steal the book he’s perusing. “You’re meeting Junshang now.”

“Huh, no? I would know.”

The demon gives his comment all the consideration he must think it deserves: none at all. “You’re coming with us or we’ll make you go. If Junshang has to wait, you’ll pay for wasting his time.” He grins the kind of grin Shang Qinghua bets dumb henchmen everywhere grin. “If you’d rather wait, I’ll happily watch Junshang punish you. It’ll be fun.”

Yeah, no. Shang Qinghua jumps to his feet. Better not make Luo Binghe wait. Nothing good will come out of pissing him off. “I’m coming, I’m coming! Don’t hurt me!”

He’s unceremoniously shoved in the direction of the door and escorted through the meanders of Luo Binghe’s palace.

Luo Binghe dismisses his flunkies with barely a word. Ha! Shang Qinghua knew they were nobodies.

In other matters, it is possible Shang Qinghua is in deep shit. Luo Binghe has never cared about his existence before. If he had him “accompanied” to his quarters, then something is wrong. “Lord Luo?”

Luo Binghe stares at him wordlessly.

Shang Qinghua has developed reflexes when it comes to scary demon kings glaring at him; he freezes and starts sweating helplessly. “Please tell me why I’m here? If I’m not needed, my king has left me duties I need to complete. There is no reason for me to keep you from your own very important duties.” Please don’t kill me.

Luo Binghe sighs. “You’re here because Shizun told me the truth about your common origin.”

Shang Qinghua freezes on the spot, only more than before. Cucumber-bro, really!? You went and told Luo Binghe about transmigration and didn’t even warn me about it? That was the least you could have done! “I see.”

“Shang Qinghua is not going to deny it? Or ask questions?”

If anything had happened to Shen Qingqiu, who stood to lose a lot more than Shang Qinghua after that revelation, he would have heard about it. As a spy, he needs to keep afloat of such major developments. He heard nothing, so things should be fine. “He did tell you about transmigration, right?”

Luo Binghe nods.

“Then you probably have heard everything relevant. I don’t have anything to add. Unless Lord Luo is the one who has questions?” He would not be surprised to hear Shen Qingqiu has been less than forthcoming.

He’s going to have to talk to Mobei-Jun about this, right? Can’t have him learn the truth from Luo Binghe. That would turn out badly.

“I used to wonder why my husband and yourself had a relationship at all, but I have been made aware that you are his sole compatriot. As much as it pains me to admit it, this puts you in a position where you can offer Shen Qingqiu solace I cannot. As such, you are important to my husband’s happiness, and since my husband’s happiness is my first priority, it is incumbent on me to do everything necessary to preserve it. You will now be the subject of increased security. I have also warned Mobei-Jun to do the same, though I have been told you were already under extensive protection.”

Huh. News to him. “Okay.” That’s going to make his life harder, isn’t it? Can’t spy if you have your own guards. “Thanks, but that’s really not necessary? I’m not anyone’s target. It’s mismanagement of resources.”

Luo Binghe frowns. “It is not. Shen Qingqiu would be displeased if something happened to you. Resources extended for my husband’s sake are not misused.”

Okay, so Shen Qingqiu waltzed right out of any issue regarding his real identity with his control on Luo Binghe intact. Of course he did.

Trying to get Luo Binghe not to do something he thinks will benefit Shen Qingqiu is an even bigger waste of time. “As Lord Luo wishes, then.” No point in opposing the protagonist.

“Shizun told me the place you two came from is very different from here, and that sometimes these differences can be… overwhelming to him. Do you have any idea of what he could mean?”

Shang Qinghua bites back his laughter. “Oh yes. There are so many potential triggers I couldn’t possibly count them.” The lack of any modern comfort can still annoy them, despite all the years they have been living here.

“Tell me if there is anything I could do to make his life easier. Just because you can apparently help doesn’t mean you should be the one only doing it.”

Luo Binghe would want to be the only one doing it. Big surprise here. He must have loved hearing all about how Shen Qingqiu was separated from everything Luo Binghe grew up with, but Shang Qinghua shared baggage with him.

Shang Qinghua thinks that not even Luo Binghe could bring Shen Qingqiu his beloved internet back, or his favorite books, and let’s not even get into the families they left behind when they died. Even the protagonist doesn’t have those skill sets.

What he does have though… There should be rushan somewhere? He thinks he included some at some point. It’s not quite right, but what does he know about food anyway. “While the food we used to eat is not completely different from what we can find here, some more recent offerings have been sorely missed. I don’t know anything about cooking, but you do, so are you up to a challenge?”

He can see Luo Binghe light up at the idea of helping his husband with something he can definitely handle. “Yes! Whatever Shizun used to eat, I’m sure I can reproduce.”

“Well, clear your calendar, because I can count what I know about cheese production on my fingers, and if we’re making pizza, it’s going to be necessary.”