#doing illegal things to change his physical form and in the end found love and acceptance with a caring individual?

[bananakeiky]

genshin be like trans kid with mommy issues gets a new mommy

[call-sign-shark]

Loose Cannon|| Arthur Shelby x Reader

Summary: The heatwave continues and you have an excellent --and illegal -- idea to refresh yourself... To Arthur's greatest despair. But let's be honest, your antics only make him fall harder for you || . Modern!Peaky AU Loose Cannon

Words: 4.2k

TW: language, mutual pinning, unresolved sexual tension, idiots in love, physical description of the MC, quick allusion to child abuse, no proofreading we die like John.

Notes: Each part is individual and can be read as one-shots in no particular order.

“I FUCKING HATE YOU!” A painful moan escaped from your quivering lips, your voice rendered croaky by all the effort. If your heart could break free from your ribcage it would have done it already but yet he was, drumming and agonizing in a prison of bones.

“Shut up and take it.” A low growl underlined by a light tremor of fatigue replied to you, its owner wiping the sweat from his eyes with the back of his hand as he kept on moving increasingly faster. The cacophony of his pulse hammering in his temples almost covered your complaints but, unfortunately for him, it wasn’t enough, and still heard you scream at him. Arthur should have known that you wouldn’t be docile.

“You’re torturing me!! I’ll sue you, Arthur Shelby!” Forced to pause between each word, you tried your best not to faint well aware that the soldier had no pity for you. He would continue what he was doing whether minding your consciousness. Why would he while you were the one who asked for it? All you wanted was for him to stop and yet he remained criminally deaf to all your supplications, “I can’t… I can’t anymore.” Your voice cracked.

“You wanted to do this with me so now yer going to assume your choice. Faster ey.” He ordered through gritted teeth, and the gravel in his voice made you crumble from inside.

“ It— It hurts. My legs are fucking shaking! Please stop! St—” You were about to keep whining when all came to a quite brutal halt. Indeed, this confusing chaos ended up with your face suddenly bumping against the soldier's chest. “Aouch!” You exclaimed, pushing yourself from him and ready to excoriate the fucker. “Couldn't you fucking warn me, bastard” You brought your hand to your nose and rubbed the pain away, your furious eyes shooting him a murderous look.

“And can’t ye stop fookin’ complaining? I told you that each afternoon I go for a run with Hannibal. You’ve spent all the morning begging to come with me and now that you’re here, ye do nothing but whine like a fookin' kid.” As Arthur lashed out his frustration on you, his chest rose and fell quickly for his lungs had troubled to understand he wasn’t running anymore. And despite his erratic breathing he still found enough air to scold you. Usually, you wouldn’t have minded his explosive anger but a particularly harsh night of nightmares and insomnia had turned you a bit overemotional today. While holding a bit of truth, his words still vexed you which resulted in you fleeing his eyes and crossing your arms on your tight chest.

“You don’t understand.” You mumbled, nervously chewing the inside of your cheek as your brain processed with forming a kind of explanation to offer him.

“And now she's sulking!” Arthur roared and rolled his eyes, losing the remnant of patience he had left. “Yer a fookin’ pain in the ass, that’s what you are ay. Go home if ye too tired to keep running, but I ain’t gonna change me habits for you.” An arrow through the heart would have been less painful. Your lips parted, willing to speak, but not a single coherent thing came out. You stuttered a very brief while before definitely giving up and the only thing you knew: being insolent.

“That’s not what I asked for!” You exclaimed, fists closed tights and blood boiling in your veins. Obviously, the corrosive effects of anger didn’t help. “You’re a bloody idiot, that’s all you are ay!” If there was one thing positive about this whole scene it was your perfect imitation of him.

“So what the fook d’ya want?!” His hoarse voice resounded so loud in the park that a few passersby couldn’t help but glance at you with curiosity. Lacking proper words, you ended up stomping your feet and screaming with frustration, hands pulling your own hair. The noises, the images, the smells in your head… They were all too much. Caught in a whirlwind of panic and anger, you would have given everything to be able to calmly explain that all you wanted was to be with him and not alone with your twisted thoughts, bad memories, and the faint voices in your head. Then, you would have proceeded to tell him that the only moment your mind was quiet was when he was by your side, as hard as it was to admit it. If it had been the case, everything would have been easier but no, and you hated yourself even more for all of this. Come on Rat, say it, you thought.

I just want to be with you, Arthur. Because it feels good when I'm with you. I might want to murder you sometimes but your presence is comforting to me. Please, let me stay by your side and protect me from myself.

But words remained stuck in your throat and all of it was because of a deep-rooted and still open wound you carried with you every day of your life. From the day Uncle Jack entered and destroyed it the only way you could express yourself was with violent emotional outbursts and tantrums, your body and mind still not recovering from the pain he had inflicted on you. And here was the reason why you were in the middle of the park sulking at Arthur Shelby after he had scolded you like an unruly kid.

Woof. Between the two of you sat the soldier's huge malinois, wondering why his master had stopped running and why everyone looked so angry. Curious, Hannibal stared at him with his dark beady eyes reflecting the sunlight. Then, his focus shifted to you before letting out a louder bark. In the end, what caught his attention the most was the girl's utter sadness he could sense. That was why he walked to her and gently bumped her legs with his head.

“What?!” The soldier barked back, his steel-blue eyes diving into the dog’s chocolate-brown irises, quite not believing that his own K9 had turned against him. Hannibal finally sat by your side and barked at Arthur again, and his antics brought a pause in all this senseless chaos.

“Listen...” You started, your free hand nervously spinning one of your long blue braids, “I’m sorry,” You finally mumbled, losing your slim fingers — which were wrapped with multicolor bandaids — in the beast's fur. The softness of his hair under your flesh sends you a wave of comfort. “Fucker." You added, for you couldn't address him without at least calling him names.

“Yeah.” Arthur sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as if he wanted to stop his dawning headache — which was the case. At least you apologized and that was already a win. "Alright." He finally said with his thick Brummie accent, his muscles finally relaxing and the handsome features of his face softening, “Alright.” He repeated, running a hand in his scruffy beard as he looked for an idea to maybe make amend for how he had yelled at you in public. "I wasn’t feeling it today anyway. It's too bloody hot out 'here. Wanna get an ice cream instead?" He suggested, one brow raised. For once, you didn't need words to be understood for the way your eyes enlightened at the mention of the frozen treat had been more than enough for him to understand. Just like the sun coming after the storm, your lips curled in a faint smile.. A smile that made Arthur's anger vanish and his heart melt more than he was willing to admit.

Did you, two independent and tough adults, fight over ice cream's flavors? Absolutely yes.

"Pistachio and chocolate is THE banger."

"Suck my dick you unoriginal dumbass, lemon and raspberry is the best combo."

"No one fookin' likes lemon sorbet, dumb bitch. You're just being a weirdo."

"If I were you I would shut the fuck up right now because I'm about to smash my ice cream on your ugly face!"

"Oh yeah? Go ahead and I'll beat your fucking ass -- don't care if people see me, you bloody brat!"

It was the kind of heated conversation you had during the whole way home, to Hannibal's greatest despair. At one point, you even swore you had heard the dog sigh loudly, probably bored of your stupid fights. The beast had found hope when you almost tripped on your own feet and Arthur, with his sharp reflexes, had managed to grab you by the hand right before you hit the ground. With that little unfortunate event, he assessed that you were far too clumsy for your own good and that keeping your hands in his was the best way to avoid injury. The more minutes flew by, the more your fingers intertwined together. You finally reached home, reluctantly letting the soldier's large and calloused hand go. As he searched for his key, you simply stretched your body with your hands high and your body weight momentarily resting on your tiptoes, the intense temperatures of the heat waves had exhausted both of you.

"Arthur." You called him, something catching your attention nearby.

The soldier replied with an uninterested "hm" as he opened the door to let Hannibal rush inside before he finally looked at you from above a freckled shoulder. For a split second, he completely forgot that you were talking to him, far too hypnotized by the way sweat made your silky skin glow and how your bright blue braids danced in your back at each of your movements. Arthur couldn't lie to himself -- You were an otherworldly and unusual combination of beauty and chaos.

"Did you know that your neighbor owned such a big-ass pool?!" You exclaimed, your little fists on your hips and your broken-doll face adorned with an outraged pout.

"Hm, yes I did." He absentmindedly replied, too busy carefully observing your lean frame, which exuded a sense of boundless energy that perfectly matched with your vibrant and expressive powder-blue eyes, filled with a mischievous spark. From your grunge makeup and your colorful hair to your attractive body and the blue clouds tattooed along a whole arm, everything of you enticed him.

"Fucking cunt. It's a shame to have such a big swimming pool and not use it." You shook your head and pout, shifting your body weight on one leg more than on the other, hence making your seductive hips tilt. Arthur forced himself to look away -- it wouldn't be that hard if you weren't wearing the shortest shorts he had ever seen.

"Well, he's on vacation." He shrugged, "C'm'here Rat. I ain't your bloody door holder."

"Do you ever stop being grumpy?" You kicked a pebble with your combat boot in his direction.

"Do you ever stop being an annoying little shit?" His lips stretched in a carnivorous and teasing smile at your childish antics.

"Fuck you, Arthur." You retorted, laying a kiss on his jaw before disappearing inside the house.

Please do, he thought.

Just one night.

There was the exact wording he had used when you forced your presence in his bed two weeks ago, arguing that the only fan in the whole house was in this room. While your excuse could be believable, it didn’t explain why you ended up in his arms. So when you came back the night after and slipped under the thin sheet to snuggle up with him without uttering a single thing, Arthur told himself “Just another one”. But the heart was a strange creature and when it fell, it fell hard. Your surprising demonstration of affection was all it took for Arthur's mind to quickly forget about chasing you away, the idea gradually becoming unthinkable until he genuinely wondered how he managed to sleep without your presence next to him. From then an odd game of pretend settled between you and him: During the day you were fighting about the most ridiculous details, never missing a moment to get under the other’s skin, and yet, when the night came and the world turned silent, you found yourselves melting against each other, your lips brushing his neck to make him shiver and his nose buried in your vibrant hair to lured the demons of war away.

As Arthur woke up, his eyelids still heavy and his mind still foggy, he growled in dissatisfaction at the realization that you weren’t in his arms anymore. Maybe the heat had finally won, and his body temperature really kept you from sleeping? It was with this in mind that he stretched one arm, his hand patting the mattress. Not only he want to make sure you were still next to him, but he also already missed your touch. His fingers were met with empty sheets as they collided with the soft fabric. Blood immediately rushed through his entire body, adrenaline rattling against his every nerve just like it used to when his squad had to wake up to gunshots and bombs. For one second, Arthur couldn’t tell if he was in Birmingham or back to Iraq and somehow, he didn’t mind. Jumping from the bed and trying not to drown in his PTSD-induced paranoia, the soldier looked around him with haste, “Love?!” He called, rummaging through the room until the sight of the wide-open bedroom window made him freeze. After a few microseconds of complete panic, Arthur leaned over the window sill in a desperate attempt to see you and fortunately did. You were here, safe and sound in Small Heath. Far from death, maimed bodies, and agonizing soldiers. His shoulders dropped as he relaxed, watching you swimming in the neighbor’s pool. The information soon reached his brain: the neighbor’s pool? “Fuck me.” Arthur sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes at the thought of you trespassing the garden to take a midnight bath in his pool.

Unbelievable.

Wasting no more time, the soldier left the house without minding the fact he was wearing nothing more than his sweatpants. It wasn’t difficult for him to climb the fence and jump on the other side of it, right into the neighbor’s garden, considering how he had learned much more during his military training with the SAS. With both hands on his head, he roared “Are you fookin’ crazy?!” His steel blue eyes, whose color shone brighter under the glow of the pool’s lights, also noticed a familiar bottle in your hand, “Is it me or you’ve stolen me whisky? Jesus Christ, I’m going to drown you, you fucking disaster of a girl!” He looked so dramatic that you couldn’t help but giggle, his screams not impeding your little bathe. “LAUGHING AT ME FACE SHE IS!” This time Arthur, breathless with rage, was yelling so loud that the pale skin of his face had turned bright red.

"Sheeesh, calm down, you gonna pop an artery.” You swam closer to the edge of the pool, slightly lifting your body to cross your arms on the warm tiles. The way your two long blue braids danced behind you, waving like two water snakes, captivated his attention for a very short while. The soldier was about to retort something murderous when you cut him for a second time, “Why don’t you join me instead of making a fool of yourself eh? The house’s empty anyway.”

“You wish,” He exhaled slowly through the nose, his nostrils flaring as he tried to contain his boiling anger and not wake all the neighborhood up, “This ain’t fun, Rat. Get the fuck out of the pool right now.”

“Come and get me then.” You challenged him with a finger gun gesture.

“I don’t think you understand you stupid brat. Do you realize that what you’re doing is illegal?”

“Yeah.” You giggled.

“And that you could be in fookin’ trouble for it?”

“Yeaaaah!” You exclaimed, pale eyes shimmering with excitement and recklessness so childish it baffled the poor soldier. Taken aback by your behavior, Arthur blinked several time as he looked at you — Somehow he should have known that you weren’t going to obey him. After all, he could tell from your chapped lips and always bloody knees that you were everything but a nice little girl. No, you were an unhinged little shit and he liked it despite everything, “so? Do you really wanna catch me ‘cause I’m getting bored.”

“Okay, I’m done.” The soldier quickly took off his sweatpants to be in underwear and, with a nimbleness you didn’t suspect, dived into the pool. Engulfed by the water, Arthur had disappeared amidst the bluish light and the rippling tiles at the bottom of the pools. All you could see was a quick silhouette coming at you with what seemed to be the speed of a torpedo.

“Oh no, no, no!” Before you could do something, two large and calloused hands grabbed you by the hips and pulled you under the water, leaving you just the time time to take a deep inhale before getting swallowed by a chlorine tide. All your vision turned into a blur for a brief but intense second, chaos taking the form of confusing bubbles and foam until everything stopped. Reopening your eyes under the water, you found yourself transported in a parallel world in which a tranquil hush enveloped your senses. With each graceful stroke, you embraced the weightless sanctuary, finding solace in the quiet depths of the pool, where worries dissolved, and the rhythmic pulse of water echoed a soothing lullaby powerful enough to shut the insufferable screeching of both sickening memories and psychotic thoughts. Surprisingly enough, Arthur wasn’t there — or at least he wasn’t in sight. All you could see was an odd combination of bluish tiles and underwater spotlights that created a surprisingly serene and liminal landscape. It seemed like the cool water had the same calming effects upon the soldier, for when you turned around at the feeling of fingers gently brushing your ribs you were met with a playful smirk. Raising an eyebrow, you gently shove him before trying to escape several times but he inevitably caught you. A small bubble escaped from your lips as you tried not to laugh, amused by how Arthur made both of you slowly spin under the water, as a jolly sailor waltzing with her mermaid lover. With your bodies moving elegantly together, halfway between dancing and gently fighting, your fingers cupped his face. Despite the underwater hush, Arthur’s interrogation is visible through the way one of his eyebrows arched when he saw your face getting dangerously closer to his. Closer. Closer. Until your mouth finally crashed against his. Arthur’s eyes widened in shock, pupils suddenly dilating under the effect of adrenaline when the warmth of your mouth found his. The peck was brief, so brief he wondered if he hadn’t hallucinated it but it was enough for him to lose control of everything. His body softened, letting you a short moment to break free from his playful embrace. Offering a last wink, you trashed your legs to come back to the surface and took a deep inhale. As the warm air of the night filled your lungs, a strange state of calmness possessed you a with it followed a genuinely amused giggle at the remembering of Arthur’s surprised expression. The man broke from underwater a few seconds after you, quickly sliding his hair back with his hands before swimming to you, eyebrows knitted together and lips sewn tight in a thin line.

“What did ya do?” He rasped, his steady breathing rendered irregular for his heart raced in his chest. The taste of your sweet yet damaged lips was still tingling on his skin.

“What are you talking about?” You pouted even though you didn’t make a peculiar effort to hide your amusement. “Hey!” The complaint fell from your mouth when his strong arms wrapped around your waist to press your body against his. A wave of fire spread through your being.

“Do it again.” Arthur could barely believe he just said that and yet he did and now that it was too late, he decided to go for it and see what would happen. Taking advantage of your surprise, he nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck, his lips grazing the soft skin sprinkled with tiny droplets of water similar to translucent pearls engraved in your flesh. A delightful thrill crossed through your body as his beard scratched your skin -- A thrill that soon turned into a wave of heat that made you feel feverish.

“Do what?” Your fierce and loud voice was merely a whisper as your cheeks flushed red, as red as the blood simmering in your veins. You might have been slightly confused by the situation but your bandaged fingers seemed to know what to do when they lost themselves in his wet hair to slick it back with a tenderness you never knew you possessed.

“Kiss me.” The low rumble made your own soul quake. Punctuating his sentence with actions, the soldier's face left your neck to lean his forehead against yours. In this whirlwind of emotions and arousal, you batted your eyelashes while drowning in the dark blue of his eyes and wondered if they had always been this charming. What happened next none of you could tell for any thoughts left disappeared. Mouths grazed each other, the two of them timidly discovering the shape and details without daring to break the few inches remaining. Soft lips against chapped ones, and against all expectations the rougher pair was yours. How could such an unsufferable and brutal little minx like you feel so fragile in his scarred hands? A frail moan escaped from your mouth at the blissful sensation of the soldier's hips moving with yours at the water’s discretion and, for once, you weren't ashamed of it. With your underwear fabric sticking to your skin and bodies closely interlocked, you could both feel every intimate detail and shape, gently and sensually grinding against each other due to the flow... Or maybe the flow wasn't the cause and you were both actively asking for more, who knew? Arthur growled again, for even in the cold water of the pool the warmth between your legs made him weak and far too aware that you yearned for him.

"No, you kiss me first you coward." You tried to sound mean but your voice could produce nothing but an enamored tone.

"Ah, shut up Rat." Arthur softly bit your lower lip, trapping the juicy flesh between his teeth and pulling it a little bit. The taste of anticipation lingered in the air, mingling with the heady scent of perfume, chlorine, and the warmth of intertwined breaths.

"Go on then, shut me up..." And your wish became his command. His warm tongue gave a faint lick on your lower lips just to taste the water, almost too shyly for the man he was. Then a second one and a third, and as he did he kept his hands busy by slipping them under your panties. His large palms conquered your buttcheeks and then pressed on your flesh to bring your core closer to his until you could clearly feel how enthusiastic he was to have you so close. In reply, your fingers hung at the hem of his boxer, slightly pulling them down to disclose his V-line. In the secluded haven of the dimly lit swimming pool, the water's gentle caress enveloped both of you as you shared this moment suspended in time. Arthur's patience finally reached its limits and pressed his lips against yours for another chlorine kiss you were both eager to deepen. A kiss that felt like a car crash and still sounded like water lapping and the rhythmic beat of hearts. It could have been perfect if Arthur hadn't back up suddenly, eyes wide open at the sight of a car's headlight in the house's alley.

“Out of the pool, now!” He exclaimed, hauling himself from the water quickly to grab the bottle of whisky, then his pants before seizing your wrist to lift you from the pool.

"HOLY SHIT!" Adrenaline rushed through your body, momentarily shutting down everything except your flight instinct. That was how you both ended up dashing across the garden half-naked and completely soaked up. Fortunately enough, you both managed to climb the fence and lock yourselves into the house, banging the door so close that poor Hannibal jumped from the sofa and barked. Time stopped for a while, the two of you with your back leaning against the door and trying to catch your erratic breath, bodies dripping with water. A heavy silence floated in the corridor, only broken by the sound of your own heart drumming in your ears. And then, you heard it... It started with a little nervous giggle and then it became a loud and gravelly laughter. Despite the whole panic, you were soon infected by a fit of hilarity too, your aching heart drowning in a feeling you hadn't experienced in a long time: joy in its purest and most innocent form.

♠️ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

♠️ Tag list: @cljordan-imperium @1nterstellarcha0s @raincoffeeandfandoms @babaohhhriley @zablife

[mrcowboytoyou]

The City on the Edge of Forever: The Original Teleplay (the comic)

The City on the Edge of Forever is arguably a pretty popular episode of TOS and with good reason. It's a pretty dramatic episode and it was influential in forming Kirk's character and inspiring future ST material, both in the beta canon and in fan works.

Fun fact (though a bit off-topic): Edith Keeler is brought up in the novelization for Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home. Bones mentions her and it results in a pretty emotional altercation with Jim. The scene isn't in the film but I think it adds an interesting level to the story especially where Gillian Taylor is concerned. Makes her parting in the end sting a little worse.

"She had a mission in her life, and she wouldn't have given it up to go with you."

A bit of foreshadowing aye? Anyway, this aside, I actually have something else entirely to talk about.

Recently, a trek artifact found its way into my lap. And that is the comic version of Harlan Ellison's original script for The City on the Edge of Forever. The comic isn't that old really, but I'd seen other people talking about it and was excited to of found it out in the wild myself.

For those unaware, the script underwent a lot of changes resulting in pretty different experiences between it and the episode that aired. I think even more than what's in this comic version, which came out in 2015. I've not actually read the original script though.

I did read some commentary from Ellison who's original script apparently ended with Kirk deciding he would save Keeler, because fuck it, he loves her, and Spock saves the day by physically holding him back from doing so.

The episode ended with Kirk stopping McCoy, and by extension himself, from saving Keeler; the comic ends with Kirk hanging back as Spock stops Beckwith (instead of McCoy) from saving Keeler. I do have my opinions on which ending I like best but I'll get to that a bit later.

Since I've not read the original script (except for one exchange which is in the comic and was wholly responsible for my excitement in finding this comic to begin with), I will avoid comparing it to this comic for the most part. While, I'm sure there are differences, at present time I don't know all of them besides what I've already said above.

Instead, I will compare this comic experience to the episode. Besides, there's going to be a lot more differences I think between this and the show rather than this and the script.

So first things first, let's actually talk about the conflict here. I mentioned that instead of McCoy we have an antagonist of the week type named Beckwith. Beckwith is a drug dealer in karkow, which is a drug that resembles comically big, colourful crystals. Seems an unfortunate thing to have to ingest, but it apparently sends you on quiet the whirlwind.

Beckwith has some larger agenda surrounding this drug and has gotten one of his shipmates hooked so that they might, in a drug induced daze, assist him. This other lieutenant references that Beckwith caused a slaughter on Harper V, but I don't know what the details of this are. Looking it up only brought up a dead ensign, may he rest in peace lol.

So, while I'm curious, I don't think that bit of info is important beyond just detailing Beckwith's track record. It's a bit of a strange setup to me in some regard. Like it feels too big of an issue all on its own to just be a component of a story. I mean there was a "slaughter" on a planet because of very expensive and illegal drugs.

Additionally, there is something else very interesting about an antagonist that we aren't attached to, like McCoy. For one, we do not care if he lives or dies. Really we only care that he sees justice, because we care about the motivations of Kirk and Spock.

But in keeping with the episode, the conundrum ultimately becomes about the life or death of Edith Keeler. Beckwith, like McCoy, saves her and now Spock and Kirk have to prevent that. That's interesting because, we are given information that paints Beckwith in no uncertain terms, as a very bad person. Additionally, his saving of Keeler is something one of our leads wants very much to do himself. So it's a interesting dichotomy.

I sorta like that aspect of it a lot. McCoy wants to save Keeler because he's a good person and a doctor. We know that his ignorance and desire to save others motivate him. With Beckwith, its a bit of a mystery, and as an audience we must now think about what it means that Kirk and him might share a want or an instinct to save.

The comic ends with Kirk and Spock discussing this very dilemma. Why might Beckwith of done that? This may be the only part of the comic you'd know at all because it is in the original script, and pictures of the text circulate ST tumblr every so often.

Following this bit of a dialogue Spock asks Kirk why Beckwith would try to save Keeler. An appropriate question given what we know. I think the answer is a bit cryptic but the long and short of it is- humans are capable of good and bad things.

Beckwith, a horrible man, was still capable of saving a woman's life. And Kirk, noble and level headed as he is, can still be selfish. At the end there they mention Keeler and a soldier whom Kirk paid for information. The soldier is homeless and legless but saves Kirk's life when Beckwith fires at him, dying in the process. When they go back to the Guardians Kirk asks if the soldier's life, just as Keeler's, might have affected reality but the answer is no, he was inconsequential.

This cruel uncertainty about the value of people weighs on Kirk. He wasn't inconsequential to him. That man saved his life, and was paramount in finding Beckwith.

I think the ending dialogue is a bit confusing and I don't know if that's just me, but at the end Spock assures Kirk that Keeler was not negligible. Kirk replies, "...but, I loved her".

I think there is a thought which remains unsaid here about the loss of these two. Part of Kirk's confusion and hurt comes from the fact that if Keeler was so important to the future, why couldn't she be saved in some manner? Why was her fate to also die like the soldier, whose loss was labeled as negligible by the Guardians?

In response to this, Spock says:

"No woman was ever loved as much, Jim. Because no woman was ever offered the universe for love."

It's very touching. The value of life isn't lost because someone dies, and your feelings for her aren't without purpose or meaning because you didn't save her. It's something he needs to hear. Shortly after, Spock leaves, and Kirk now alone in his quarters screams into the inky darkness of space as the Enterprise hurtles on to boldly go... Good ending.

There are a lot of parts of the story which hit similar beats to the episode. The plot largely is intact after all but even in the way of dialogue. There are cute moments where Spock doesn't understand the lingo of the time period in both, for instance.

Additionally, the tension that builds between them, and which has been the source of so much fanfic, is very much alive and well in this comic. Some of those scenes play out pretty similarly as they do in the episode. Even the panel designs are reminiscent of shots from the show at times. But there's also bits like this only in the comic that I couldn't stop rereading...

"Captain, fooling me is simple. Just give me the order, I will change my opinion."

WOOF WOOF. Just an absolutely great line. It's the sort of thing only Spock could and would say. There's something about it that is so rich with understated emotion, like the way a dam holds back a flood.

So would I recommend this? Oh, easily!

Is it better than the episode we got? This question is harder to answer so readily, but I think after much thought, I would say no.

So much change is taking place between these adaptions that they're different enough stories to both be fulfilling to experience. There are parts of this comic that I'd of loved to see acted out, for sure. Obviously there are some amazing bits of dialogue that did not make the final cut and that's disappointing; they'll always be in my heart, but I like the canon ending a lot more.

In the show, Kirk's choice to stop McCoy is really very significant. It's not just that he's stopping Bones, he's also stopping himself. He went back to save Bones and also the entire rest of the ship's crew after all. In my mind, Kirk was always going to make this choice no matter what. Yes, he loves Keeler, but it's not like he loves his ship, friends, or crew less. He just loves them in a different way. Ultimately though, he would always do what he needed to do when there proved to be no other option.

So I'd of hated an ending where Kirk defies the beliefs he's consistently maintained throughout the show to save Keeler. I also don't really like that Kirk hangs back in the comic's rendition and that Spock ends up stopping Beckwith. It's less significant for Spock to be the one doing it.

I don't mind Beckwith being there instead of Bones but I do think the drug dealing component to his character feels a bit out of place. As I said in the beginning, something about it feels too large to be just a mere component of an episode. It feels more deserving of its own episode entirely.

In any case, I really liked this comic. The art is beautiful and the back of the book included a bit of how J.K Woodward (the artist) went about creating panels and poses. Despite the fact that I ultimately like the episode we got, this comic is still a great story, so I think it's a nice addition to any Star Trek collection.

[roseunspindle]

Naruto: Next Gen

Sasuke and Naruto get together and eventually (they may have been slightly drunk) decide to start a family via sexy-no-jutsu. Given Naruto's massive amount s of Chakra he ends up having twins (and doesn't get to tired having to hold a jutsu at least internally for nine+-months.

Sasuke has never actually been re-instated as a Konoha-nin as well, the former higher-ups did have his clan slaughtered...but he stays and helps a bit between also being a wandering spy due to his love for Naruto and belief in Naruto keeping his promises of fixing the Shinobi world. They originally traveled together as "advanced problem solvers" (they found shitty situations and made them less shitty. But Kakashi finally tells Naruto he wants to retire and will be naming him Hokage so Naruto has to stay and job shadow.

Kakashi had started making inroads on fixing things, though he's less than pleased at how much he does is literally fix previous generations shit. Sarutobi has massively fallen in his eyes. (Also he has had so many post-mortem trials because he feels he owes it to the dead for justice so they can rest, and for the living to see that their "good upright leaders" hadn't been so great.

Naruto isn't subtle about some of the changes he plans to make, such as intending to make the Hyuuga remove the curse seal on all current Hyuuga branch members and forbidding the seal from being placed on any knew members.

He and Sasuke and others of the rookie nine + team gai have discussed the subject a lot. They thinks they've come up with a way were Naruto won't be "I can tell clans how to run themselves" but still make it happen.

Slavery. It's illegal in Konoha and if Danzo can be posthumously tried for it for the seals binding the Root soldiers tongues, than the Hyuuga and their caged bird seal falls under that.

So years pass, and while Hisashi is actually relieved to agree to remove the seal, other members aren't and we have another "make hyuuga great again secret faction" form along with a "make konoha great again" faction that feels that Danzo had the right ideas.

Things are still tense occasionally between nations, nothings perfect...but Naruto and Sasuke along with many ninja across the nations are doing there best.

Boruto and Sarada are born during this transition period (Boruto will always claim the eldest title, for all he's a minute and 26 seconds older). (Naruto opted for a c-section as he was not going to attempt to hold a full henge during labor...he figured that was a good way to have no end of problems.)

Both Naruto and Sasuke would like to re-start their clans if possible that they and their traditions and Jutsu's might not be lost, so they agree to name one child an Uzumaki and one an Uchiha (based on if either develops a sharingan or a gift for dramatics and if one has massive chakra reserves and can eat twice their weight in ramen...it's a very strict determining system.

Sasuke is still gone from the village a lot but pops back in often to see his husband and children, while Naruto takes advantage of peace-time to be a Hokage who wears his children to work. (thy have their own play area and Naruto has clones that can take them to the park, though he tries to physically be there for at least dinner and dispel the clone that cared for them that day so he can absorb the memories and can discuss the day with his children.) Shikamaru decides to copy this habit of child-wearing as well with his own son.

It's entirely possible that since Naruto does a lot of paperwork and can make so many of himself a great many of the people who work in the Hokage Tower bring their kids for Naruto to watch... plus various friends, so Sarada and Boruto are never without playmates.

If you want to know what happens to Sakura and Hinata, no worries, Hinata formally withdraws as clan heir (she knows she isn't suited for it and Hanabi is) and eventually marries Gaara as both a political marriage and because the two have become fond of one another, both laugh over their original connection being crushes on Naruto. Kiba follows Hinata to Sand, thought a certain puppetmaster ends up being his reason to stay there. He and Temari act as more bonds forged between Sand and Leaf. (Also Neji never died due to Hinata's need to confess...)

Sakura finally fully realizes how much she...made up any romance between her and Sasuke and pours herself into the hospital ad healing for years before Lee finally gets his courage up again and asks her out and this time, Sakura finds herself happy to say yes.

Sasuke is much like a cat, and brings Naruto random things whenever he pops back to hidden leaf. Except two years after Boruto and Sarada's birth he brings back a small girl, obviously of Hyuuga descent by her eyes that he'd found. Hisashi does some digging and finds a random main branch clan member who'd "gone missing" decades before . This child most likely being a grandchild or greatgrandchild of the missing Hyuuga. Deciding that since he can't marry either of his daughter 's to the Hokage Hisashi decides this is a pretty good way to have a familial connection and so Himawari Uzumaki is adopted. (Naruto tells Sasuke she's the best present he's brought him yet.)

[robboyblunder]

ive been thinking about you comic with jayce ever since it crossed my dash -uh so forgive me if these questions are uh abbrasive and yoh dont need to answer them but im very curious about the workd building of his world..? Specifically when he was a blob-conciousness?? Was he fighting the other things to become like a real bot? Were they fighting for physicalality or ? Was that when they were all data? Is this normal? Id love to know more

Ohhh I’m happy you asked! I actually haven’t been asked about his world yet so I’m happy to talk about it some! :) his story is something I want to develop further someday but I’ve been unsure where it’s going exactly for now but I’ll answer best I can;

When jayce was a ‘blob’, that’s my drawn interpretation of his unique AI and it’s manifestation/evolution as it grew and changed! There isn’t really a physical AI form, it’s just a representation of code, data, and electricity because it’s easier for us to kind of see it that way (like tron for instance; human design for something inhuman).

He was part of an unethical illegal experimentation lab using living AI for testing and potential weapons use, and because his program seemed very promising they put him into a final “test” the engineers were pressured into by military to basically create an AI poison jar. The AI were given two options when uploaded into a super computer all at once: either adapt your data or be consumed and integrated by the other programs, because choosing to do nothing was not an option- that giant gray mouth guy you see in there? He’s a super Trojan made to force them to fight or they get corrupted and, well, I guess you could call that ‘death’ but it’s more like having your existence zombified and broken up and smeared into an existential crises of a broken reality. Not fun!

So, jayce had to fight like hell to survive; he ended up ‘absorbing’ all the other AI and using the Trojan like a tool, essentially ripping them up and taking what was useful and discarding what he didn’t need as dead program bits. This changed a lot of how he felt as a living program, his view of the world, and his feelings. He’s one conscience- there isn’t others in his head, BUT sometimes he feels haunted like there’s ‘ghosts’ in his instincts like a part of them sometimes is there. Is he guilty? YOU BET! Was this normal? Absolutely not- it violated tons of ethics codes and rights in this world and was shut down the second it was found out!… after jayce had already broken out. It became a huge coverup thing though so very few people know it happened unless they really really really dig for it.

But jayce’s break out is something I plan to hopefully make into another comic when I have time :) you’ll get to see some more of him then! There’s a lot I’m leaving unsaid but I think it’ll be fun to show rather than tell when I get the time! Thank you for asking!

[anarchy-n-glitter]

The Noir Revelation

Summary: Klaus - aka The Revelation - reflects on what made her join the Seven with her therapist. During their session, a new issue comes to light causing Dr. Sorkin to suspect something else is going on in her patient's life. (Kind of Homelander x OC) Word Count: 4,229

TW: references to emotional and physical abuse, coercion in the beginning. Stay safe guys xoxo

This might be a one shot but I might do a part 2 later. If there is a part 2 we'll get more characters particularly Black Noir, so yeah this whole thing is not just about Homelander lol.

The night was chilly and quiet, a stark contrast to the busy and bustling nature of Manhattan. The wet leaves rustled in the wicked wind, shaking the dew from the branches to land in the puddles below the trees. It was the dead of night - empty - the only light came from the street lights and the neon red and blue from the diner’s sign. The clouds overhead hung lowly in the sky, covering the waning crescent moon - the last phase before the new moon.

It was spring, a time full of changes, and it was the end of March. The lights glimmered in the wet streets, and three lonely cars sat apart from each other in the empty diner parking lot. The night was empty, lacking any sort of excitement to keep the late night staff of Poe’s Diner going as the night dragged on. There were only a few patrons in the diner, five at most, with even less staff to watch over them.

The late nights brought in the strangest characters, and she had seen them all. From Supes who were hiding from the world to do their (often illegal) thing, to travelers who were on the road all day and night to get to where they were going. All of them were strangers, and all of them had a story. She had met so many people on her journey from a scared girl running for her life to a woman laying low for god knows how long. She served the strangers coffee in the morning, and she served them at night. New comers, regulars, the shady ones, it didn’t matter. Money was money, and she knew money was everything. 

When he arrived it was as if the clouds above parted - like a curtain being pulled across a stage to reveal the actors - as if the sky itself treated him like the god he thought he was. The ground shook briefly upon his arrival, the puddles rose and fell like waves in the ocean, and the trees trembled once more. He stood slowly, looking at his surroundings as if he landed on another planet, before zeroing in on the diner across the parking lot. His cape billowed in the chilling wind, but he didn’t shudder. He marched on. 

He was used to the sounds of cheers and applause when he landed, crowds of people would flock from everywhere to see him - to worship him. Yet, when he arrived in that parking lot on Long Island, he experienced no such thing. What he could tell, however, was that he evoked panic - fear, even - and perhaps that was just as effective.

“Was that what I thought it was?” A masculine voice whispered, panicked. The patrons hardly moved. They didn’t look up nor did they talk amongst themselves. Instead, they sipped on their strong-smelling coffee, and played with their food. The sound of the cutlery hitting and scratching the plates was almost louder than the whispering. Almost.

Bright blue eyes found the form of a young woman. She was pale, with equally pale hair that faded into cotton-candy pink and blue split down the middle. It was obviously bleached, but it made sense for someone like her. Her eyes were nearly violet and her dark, smudged makeup seemed to accentuate that feature. Darker lips were pressed into a line as she glared out the window, leaning on the counter with one hand on her hip. Her eyes met his and seemed to lock, and despite the vitriol in them he felt a connection. 

There was something about hate. Hate gets under people’s skin, gets them thinking about that other person. It’s as addictive as love but burns so much more, lasts so much longer. He didn’t need her to love him, that’s what the acting was for. She could try to kill him in private if she wanted but when others could see? 

She removed her apron, tossing it on the counter with a huff.

“I’ll take care of it.” She grumbled, much to the dismay of the cook. 

“You’ve been ‘taking care of it’ for months now. He hasn’t stopped.” At that she could only sigh. 

“Yeah, cause assholes like that don’t know that no means no.” She spat. 

He watched in amusement as the creature he considered below him marched up to him and took a deimatic stance. Her legs were shoulder length apart, with her shoulders raised slightly and her head low. She stared up at him from beneath furrowed brows, and if he didn’t know any better he’d say she was baring her teeth at him. She looked almost animalistic. His infatuation never came from a place of genuine respect, despite the fact that on paper she was virtually the same person as him. Instead it came from the way she fought back, and the fact that Vought wanted him to want her. To him, there couldn’t be another him. He was the only one who suffered, and he was the only invincible one - a god amongst men. She refused to bow. 

She would do nicely, seeing as she was an out of the box choice. Her and her bold choices would wash whatever blemishes from his previous relationship off of him and out of the public eye. She was a free spirit and she dyed her hair crazy colors, and Vought said she preferred purple over red and she… wasn’t a nazi. A low bar, but after the PR nightmare that was Stormfront, Vought couldn’t take their chances. 

“I told you not to come back.” She was seething, standing strongly from a few feet away from him. Her hand moved slowly in circles as the glow in her hand grew in size. One pink and the other blue. It matched her hair. 

It was obvious that she was using her powers as a warning, a threat. Did she want to fight him? Surely she didn’t think she would win if she did.

“Revelation, Vought still thinks you’d complete the Seven and -”

“I said leave. Leave me alone. I don’t need Vought’s blood money.” Her hands glowed brighter as the car behind her shook. “And I have a name. Use it.” She spat. He pressed his lips into a thin line as his brow furrowed. She took note of how his jaw clenched and unclenched, and she braced herself. There was a storm brewing under his skin.

“This, whatever you think it is you’re gonna do, isn’t gonna work so why don’t you put that car down,” he marched forward, pointing at the smaller woman as anger rose within him. The fear in her eyes was barely recognizable, but it was there, hidden behind fury of her own. “Talk to me. Please. We’re both adults.” She could have rolled her eyes at him calling himself an adult. The harshness of his tone melted away as he begged her to just talk. 

“Klaus, come on.” He pleaded once more, causing the woman to let her guard down.

“What are you doing here?” She asked calmly yet sternly. The pink and blue glow on her hands began to fade, but her body language did not soften. She stood up straight and crossed her arms across her chest, glaring at the man before her. 

“Aren’t you afraid your friends in there are gonna find out you have powers? We keep doing this out in the open.” He pointed out. 

“They can’t see me if I don’t want them to.” At that there was a flicker of blue light behind her. It seemed like a threat - was it a threat? Would she attack him? Surely she knew she couldn’t take him, there was no way, so why would she try?

She wouldn’t - she wasn’t going to attack him. 

“I also don’t want the last few patrons of the night rushing out cause they see Homelander’s here.” She scoffed. It was time to change the subject, Homelander decided. He took a step forward, startling the smaller woman. 

“Don’t-” He stopped himself as he let out a sigh, forcing a smile to his face as he shook his head. She was difficult, but smart. If it was under any other circumstances her fear would be almost flattering… but the mask had to go back up, no matter how irritated he was. “You know I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.” She said nothing. 

She stood there choking on laughter and contempt, wanting to roll her eyes at the mere thought of him being genuine with her. If she wasn’t smart she would have spit in his face. Instead she stood her ground and she said nothing. 

“I know what you’re thinking, but I don’t want you because Vought wants me to, I genuinely like you, Klaus.” Every word felt carefully selected - hand picked to clumsily attempt to manipulate her and lure her into his and Vought’s grasp. She wouldn’t go back to Vought, and she wanted nothing to do with him. He was a ticking time bomb and she knew that the moment he showed up at her diner. She knew what he would do to her friends if she said the wrong thing, and she wanted no part in it. 

But there was always a part of her that was curious. She knew enough about him by the time he left the first time, because she was smart and while he tried to convince her she went through his mind. It was harder than if someone gave her express permission, but with enough focus she was able to do it. She found out they were similar, raised in a lab and treated like property - but his whole life he was told he would be great. She wondered if he would be able to relate to her. 

And maybe, just maybe, she could finally stop running. 

“Just one night, let me show you around the tower and then you can decide.” He represented everything she resented. 

“Let me think about it for a few days. You have no idea what you’re asking of me.” Klaus seemed a lot more reserved, the fire in her voice and posture gone, and she seemed more sad. She continued to refuse to meet his gaze. Homelander took a deep breath, then spoke.

“Fine, I’ll give you a few days.” The mask continued to slip despite his desperate attempts to hold onto it, clawing into it as a last ditch effort to keep it up, but the more he thought the more impatient he became. He walked towards her again, pointing at her. She continued to back away. “But I’ll be back, and I don’t want the run around again, I want a damn answer.” 

She knew what answer he wanted, and she knew she would have to give him what he wanted. He seemed fed up with trying to lure her back to Vought, and she didn’t blame him. They gave him a truly impossible job, and she was sure it was annoying having to go all the way out there just for the same answer over and over again. 

As he left and she took down her illusion, she was left confused and angry, but most importantly she was tired. She worked so hard to build up a life of her own after escaping Vought, making friends and finding some sort of security in her job at the diner despite knowing that the rest of her life would be nothing but running. She couldn’t help but look behind her at the diner, thinking about Jensen and Ellie. If she left, if she gave Vought what they wanted, would Homelander still come after them? If she made him mad would he threaten them to keep her in line? Would Vought use them against her? She felt nothing but guilt as she thought of the danger she put them in. She loved them deeply.

“And did you take him up on that offer?” 

The sound of her therapist’s voice took her out of the memory. 

“I’ll take that as a yes, and I’m assuming that’s when you joined the Seven as well.” The therapist could feel her patient’s eyes bore into her as she wrote her notes. Klaus was not very talkative, and it usually took a lot for her to open up during their sessions. The doctor suspected it had something to do with her ever-present paranoia regarding Vought and their influence, and while the doctor could acknowledge that she worked for the company, she took her patient’s privacy very seriously. Whatever Klaus told her would be her secret, and she made that very clear upon their first session. 

The doctor leaned forward and pushed up her round glasses, smiling warmly at her sulking patient. Indeed, Klaus was a special case and the doctor knew she was holding back out of fear. The question was who was she afraid of, Vought or the narcissistic megalomaniac the company forced her to be with? It was no secret that they paired her with Homelander not only to repair his broken image but also to control her. 

“Klaus, I really wish you would be more open with me. I know this was mandated after your incident but… I truly believe we can make this more productive than what they want out of it.” She worded carefully, hoping to finally break through the twenty year old superhero’s icy and guarded demeanor. From what she had gathered, Klaus was a very free-spirited, rebellious woman. She often showed it through her style, but the more the doctor heard about her she realized that Klaus wouldn’t hesitate to voice her rebelliousness either. Any mention of the company that essentially owned her since birth causes anger, then sadness, and then she would shut down. It made it hard to get to the center of her problems, but it was to be expected. 

The doctor could acknowledge that Klaus had been through a lot of trauma, and lately it seems like it was just getting worse. She doesn’t have many safe havens, aside from the one or two friends she made in the Seven. From what she could gather, Klaus liked Starlight a lot, but couldn’t get close to her out of fear of being judged. She assumed she wanted to be close to her due to them both being new to the group and underestimated. On the other hand the man she openly calls her friend is essentially Vought’s puppet. The doctor was sure she was aware, but chose to turn a blind eye to it. She wanted to know why exactly she would make an exception for him, and she suspected that there was more to their friendship than Klaus was letting on. It was clear from previous sessions that Klaus was desperate for some sort of connection. She was in denial. 

“Look doc, I really don’t want to air out my dirty laundry for Vought and their cronies. My life has been mine and mine alone for seven years, and then all of a sudden that freedom was taken from me. They sent that flying asshole to threaten me into coming back… into letting them put their strings back on me so I could dance for them.” Klaus was on the verge of tears, unable to hide her emotions anymore. In that moment of vulnerability something flickered away. She glanced up at the doctor with wide, frightened eyes.

She was careful, so careful and yet -

If her reaction didn’t give it away she was sure the blue flicker of light did. The mistake was corrected long before she reacted, but she knew the damage was done. She let it slip, and now she would have to answer a barrage of questions that the doctor would have.

“Have you been hiding this the whole time?” Her therapist asked, completely at a loss for words. Klaus found it hard to look her in the eye before, but now it was nearly impossible. She tried so hard to hide it. 

“Dr. Sorkin, I know what it looks like. I was told I had to hide it by the higher ups, something about ‘our heroes need to seem invincible.’ I got hurt while I was fighting.” She hoped her lies would hold up. 

“Who were you fighting?” Dr. Sorkin asked without hesitation. Klaus hesitated, unable to muster up the energy to find a good alibi. 

“Bad guys.” She muttered, making Dr. Sorkin sigh in disappointment. She couldn’t help but internally cringe at her excuse. 

“Klaus, I need you to be honest with me. What did you think I thought it was? For all I knew you did get it while fighting ‘bad guys.’ All I asked was if you had been hiding it the whole time.” Dr. Sorkin explained and she couldn’t help but put air quotes around bad guys. The usual melancholic smile on the doctor’s face faded into something more solemn and serious. She looked her patient deep in the eye before speaking again. Her words were slow and poignant, and they filled Klaus with dread. 

“Did Homelander do this to you?” 

How was she even supposed to answer that? This was a man who valued his image more than anything, one who was probably listening to her therapy session at that very moment. At that thought, she determined it was a matter of self preservation. She would have to lie again, and again until she could figure out what to do. She would have to save his image over her own wellbeing. 

He would kill her if she told the truth. She has and always will hate him, and every day she wishes Vought had sent someone else to convince her to join the Seven, someone she could have turned down safely. Now she wasn’t even allowed to visit the people she was trying to keep safe. She didn’t even know if her sacrifice made a difference. 

She opened her mouth to speak, taking a deep breath only realizing the tightness in her throat and chest prevented her from successfully doing so. She was getting overwhelmed and damning tears welled up in her eyes. It forced her to look away. She huffed and shook her head, denying any allegation or help. 

“Alright,” the doctor began, her voice quieter than before - gentler, “so you’ll be seeing a doctor then?” She was worried about her, and rightfully so. Klaus managed a small smile. 

“Already did. Broken cheekbone, shattered actually. Lots of rest and no fighting for a while until they can get me in for surgery.” That was the truth. The emergency doctor she saw seemed to know what happened, but he didn’t pry. He took her excuse in stride and simply told her what she needed to do. “He said I was lucky the bone didn’t end up in my eye, it was pretty bad.” 

“I’m so sorry that happened.” Dr. Sorkin muttered, to which Klaus shrugged. 

“Eh, what’re you gonna do? It’s all part of the job.” Except it wasn’t, and both of them knew that. 

Dr. Sorkin glanced out the window at the city. The sun was shining high with clouds being scarce.

“What’s your favorite kind of weather, Klaus?” She asked, tearing her eyes away from the window to look at her patient. Klaus quirked an eyebrow at the question. Would she resist the question and refuse to answer? Would she wonder if there was an ulterior motive? 

“Rain.” The younger woman answered. Her voice was soft and solemn, yet she wore a smile. “I like rainy days.” 

“And why is that?” Klaus shrugged.

“I like to stay inside under the blankets and watch TV, sometimes I even watch outside the window. Everything gets cooler and the grass grows. I just like it, I can’t really explain.” She remarked.

“So would you say you’re an introvert or an extrovert?” 

“That feels like a day one question, not something you ask after being like ‘hey is your boyfriend beating you? Did he shatter your cheekbone?’ Just saying it out loud… you think I’m weak, don’t you?” Klaus had the tendency to get defensive in addition to her usual guarded nature, but it was the end of her speech that got the doctor’s attention.

“What makes you believe I think that?” Her patient narrowed her eyes at the question, and for a moment Dr. Sorkin worried Homelander was beginning to rub off on her. 

“Uh, you asked if he broke my cheekbone?” She snapped back, still clearly hung up on that accusation. The doctor shook her head.

“No, Klaus, why do you believe I think you’re weak?” The mere thought of the girl before her being weak made her want to chuckle in disbelief. Klaus was far from weak both mentally and physically.

“I don’t know, I guess I just heard it my whole life so I just assume everyone sees me that way.” She was clearly trying to appease her with her answers. Her hands fiddled with her necklace, one that the doctor had yet to see her without. It was a nervous tick of hers, something she used to do in the Home and never stopped doing. It would ground her, but sometimes it reminded her of the worst times of her life. 

“But that’s not true, is it?” Worry continued to build up within her as she continued to turn the charm between her fingers even faster than before. Dr. Sorkin searched through her notes which usually sat untouched in her lap, and pulled out a packet. She held it up triumphantly.

“These are the notes from your time in the Home. Do you have any idea what they said about you?” Klaus couldn’t bring herself to look up at her. “They said that your power was exceptional, that you had the potential to become their most powerful hero yet.” 

“Their. It’s always about them.” She countered. 

“You’re deflecting. No one at the Home called you weak. Everyone at headquarters considers you extremely dangerous. Klaus, they don’t even have a contingency plan for you because they don’t have any idea what could stop you. But of course, that’s why they were looking for you for seven years. Reality warping is… it’s a scary power. If you wanted to leave no one could stop you. Now tell me, who has been insisting you’re weak and why have you been listening to them?” There was a grave seriousness behind Dr. Sorkin’s soft blue eyes, and it told Klaus that the doctor already knew who was telling her these things. 

“They can’t stop me, but they know who I care about. I put everyone I love in danger just by knowing them. And it would be my fault.” Yet again she refused to answer the doctor’s question directly, only serving to further confirm what Dr. Sorkin had begun to suspect. Just the mention of her friends told Dr. Sorkin that she was afraid of someone going after them, and she couldn’t be everywhere at once. 

“It would be exhausting to constantly have to watch them. My place is here.” There was an overwhelming sadness that came over the doctor at her patient’s words. She sounded defeated.

“I think you need to focus on yourself instead of fighting the machine. Do what’s best for you and no one else. You’re a strong person but I think you have someone around you who’s threatened by you and they’ve gotten in your ear. Reevaluate your relationship with them and ask yourself if it’s really worth it. I can tell you feel everything and everyone has hurt you in the past, but I think you use that as a crutch and an excuse to not make new friends and allies. You can move past it. I think you want to do better, desperately, but you’re too afraid to open up and ask for help. I need you to internalize that you are not weak.” 

Klaus sat for a moment, thinking over what the doctor said. She wondered how to do any of that and where to start, and worst of all she wondered how any of that would go over with Homelander. If he truly was intimidated by her things began to make more sense. 

“You got it, doc.” Klaus smiled. The smile still seemed sad, and the doctor was sure she was grappling with a lot at the moment. She knew her patient was in an incredibly toxic situation, and for a moment she wondered if she should go to the higher ups about it. There was one person who could stand up to Homelander and live to tell the tale, and if Klaus couldn’t bring herself to stand up to the menace then he could. The question was whether or not he would care enough to do it. 

She watched silently as Klaus left the room without another word. 

“I do believe my patient, Klaus aka The Revelation, is being abused by her appointed partner Homelander. She says she has loved ones - friends - on Long Island still, but stays away to keep them safe. I want her to trust me enough to open up to me, however I don’t see that happening any time soon. She feels threatened by her current partner but will not say it. This concludes session and tape four.”

[rouecentric]

Hi! Idk if the request is open can I request who made me a princess with sister atty and father claude with reader who want to go home to her world, so she used amnesia spell on them both thank you ❤

Requests will always be open unless stated otherwise on my pinned post, hope you enjoy reading this!

fem/fem aligned!reader

TW: MENTIONS OF COMITTING SUICIDE, BEING CONFINED

-You were tired, angry and hurt. I mean, who wouldn't if anyone was in your place? Being a princess would be a dream to a lot of people, but becoming a princess in your next life with a possesive father and sister, no one even knew you neither the fact that the emperor had a child other than Athanasia

-Being confined in the palace without being able to go outside by your father, the emperor of the Obelian empire, can do harm to you, both physically and mentally

-You didn't even belong to this world, and somewhat neither did your "sister", too

-So, as the spoiled and beloved daughter of emperor Claude de alger Obelia who won't get married and doesn't have to go to any classes she doesn't like, you spent most of your days in the imperial library and taking magic classes, trying to find a way to be able to induce extremely strong amnesia or open up a portal to another world

-Day by day, your magic grew stronger and your knowledge on various kinds of magic increased, mastering all kinds of magic, until you found out about dark magic, a dangerous and forbidden form of magic made illegal by the Obelian law, so finding two entire bookshelves about dark magic in a hidden corner in the imperial library is shocking

-You decided to enchant a diary that had a lock and key to have more and more pages everytime you finish writing a page, but it never grows bigger, making it an infinite diary

-You wrote down everything there was in the books about black magic instead of taking the books, deciding that it was dangerous and risky if someone finds them in your bedroom, and so you studied holed up in youe room every second when you had free time from being with your family

-Claude and Athanasia were happy that you found something you loved, supporting you in every way they could, hell, Claude even offered to teach you things he knew! (you begrudingly accepted after realising he had more experience with using magic as a whole)

-When you found out it was impossible to go back to your world as your original body died in that world, you cried for twelve days and silently grieved for twenty days, hesitantly agreeing with yourself to keep yourself in this world instead of just ending your own life

-You put your anger and sadness into studying and mastering every single magic there was to get away from your current family, even being better at magic than Lucas, who was the magician of the Black Tower

-You learnt dark magic so efficiently and mastered it so well, that whenever you now used it, it never has any side effects!

-With your plan of mastering dark magic was completed and you casted magic to permanently change your appearance/eyes, it was now time to take your things and then cast magic on everyone in the palace which consisted of Claude, Athanasia, Lily, Lucas, Felix, Jeanette, Ijekiel, and the staff that worked there

-Although it took up some of your energy and mana, you had enough to run to a place outside that didn't have strong defense magic and made a portal to a village just meters away from the capital so you could sell your stuff

-As promised, your magic worked really well, and everyone forgot who you were and that you even existed! But it had one minor side effect, you appeared in their dreams. Well- your physical appearance wasn't shown, instead, it was a mass of black fog forming a teenage girl's body and whenever you talked, your voice was staticy and glitchy, but not too much as they were able to understand what you were saying, but not being able to describe your voice and match it to a human's

The dream, or, well, memory, Athanasia had right now was weird.

She looked at the door infront of her, two knights standing outside and guarding it, ignoring the person(?) that was loudly hitting it and desperately screaming to let them out while footsteps were nearing her in the hallway.

"Don't worry, Athanasia, your sister is just acting bratty because she broke a rule I enforced for her, just give her time." her father, Claude, calmly announced, holding the younger person's shoulder.

"But [censored] is going to be hurt if she'll continue banging the door so harshly.." she pouted, looking back at the door.

'Why is the person's name censored? and sister? I don't have a sister. Unless this is an alternate universe of this world or dark magic was used on me..' she thought with a inwardly confused expression.

-after that, she had magic voluntarily used on her to stop those kinds of dreams as they were ruining her sleep

-While claude sometimes also had dreams like those, most of them were nicer, more.. docile, if you will

-In his dreams you were always quiet and were almost doll-like in his dreams, always shaking or nodding your head instead of vocally answering his questions

-Was it because of how he wanted you to act? More like a doll than a human being that he could nurture, care for and dress up? He and neither did you know, only the deepest and most twisted parts of his brain knew

-When you sold all of your belongings and bought commoners clothing with sanitary products and a bag for travelling that you enchanted that had infinite space, you headed to a small and quaint medium-sized village near the borders of the Obelian empire, with multiple forests, lakes and rivers, it definitely was the best place to reside in for the rest of your life, and if for some reason your magic wore off, you could always run away to another stronger empire

-The villagers welcomed you warmly and even pitied you for your made-up backstory, being a runaway servant from an abusive low-titled noble family

-The house you bought was nice and big enough for you, a two story building with a big backyard for farming and gardening, your bedroom being on the second floor with a balcony and bathroom, and in the first floor a small living room and kitchen

-Your job was fairly simple, a humble seamstress that sold clothing for cheap

-But with your rising paranoia that your family will find you and forcefully take you back, you casted multiple defensive barriers from different kinds of magic

-Although you're not able to go back to your world, this is most likely the best case scenario for you, the true happy ending for someone who deserves it.

[guaxinimraccoon]

jesus christ why-

oh mY DEAR GOD-

FIRST OF ALL I'm SO sorry for taking so damn long to answer those, I've been really really busy and I'm very sorry, I'm doing my best to answer everybody ; o ;

BUT FINALLY let's talk about our big last Euphoria reveal (about four months ago but ok-), where I showed you guys that Alex is Brad's father and Elisa is Toby's mom.

"BUT GUAX WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK??? HOW?? WHEN??? WHERE??"

SHUSH , CALM YOUR TITS DOWN and let me explain:

Ok, so I'll be putting some links here and there because yes, Alex and Elisa's story is very, VERY connected to Brad and Toby's. 

And get ready for a veeeeeeeeeeeeery long post. You were warned.

As you all already know, Alex and Elisa had a troublesome meeting, but eventually got closer to each other, they fell in love yadda yadda yadda BUT their will to get closer to each other, in other words, their relationship brought HUGE consequences.

Yes, they did manage to build a healthy relationship, they were happy, they were fine.

But they were also adults, adults that wanted something serious and concrete, they couldn't spend the rest of their lives as forbbiden lovers.

So Elisa did something literally illegal. She did a potion that was forbidden by the Colony authorities - a shrunken potion - to get closer to Alex.

Those potions were never developed, they're rustic and really antique, so they could do more harm than good or not work at all.

But Alex didn't care, he took the risk and drank the potion to get closer to his girl, the woman that was the love of his life.

The effect of the potion is temporary, so Alex would drink them from time to time whenever he had the opportunity to visit the Colony, spend some time with Elisa and, of course, be a part of her life.

He wasn't just trying to "be like her", he was also trying to be a part of her home. He made friends with her friends, he met her family, he met new imps, new fairies, all of it under his "imp disguise". He even fought for the Colony at it's war times (that is lasting till the current story time). He EVEN presented himself with a more “impish name” - Turk - to make sure people wouldn’t suspect anything.

Of course, people eventually started to ask why didn’t he live in the Colony with Elisa, why did he only showed up from time to time. Alex and Elisa lied, obviously, they told everyone that Alex belonged to a secluded imp tribe that lived walking around the forest as nomads, which made sense since those types of imp communities do exist.

ANYWAY THE POINT IS Alex grew affectioned of those people and with their lifestyle. He started to feel like he was one of them. 

And, of course, he was now closer than he ever was to Elisa.

Since they were different species, they never worried about having kids. I’ve never said this before but Alex is a doctor, he knows about this stuff, so he always made sure to reassure Elisa that "they were their own condon" and, as sad as it may sound, they couldn't have kids.

... Or so Alex thought.

You know how tigers and lions can have offspring together? Yeah, it's the same thing.

It's very hard to happen, but they spent YEARS together if you know what I mean so yeah

That's how Alex and Elisa gave birth to their first child: Tobias, the only one of a specie that is a mix between human and imp.

His parents were really worried at first, afterall, they new NOTHING about Toby's condition. They didn't know if he was going to grow as large as a human or if he'd assume imp proportions forever. After some research with his son's blood, Alex found out that Toby was indeed half human and half imp, but he was predominantly physically an imp. That means his biological features are, mostly, imp like: he'd hardly grow as large as a human through his life's course and could live as a normal imp in the Colony. The fact that he showed talent for magic (once he was old enough to do so) and was able to do it just like any other imp in the Colony also made things easier.

Elisa and Alex chose to raise Toby in the Colony, they believed it’d be healthier and safer for him (especially after some events that I’ll be talking about in other posts), although it hurt Alex to pretend that he was an imp to his son and that he couldn’t see him everyday. 

Even if they couldn’t see each other everyday, Alex and Toby were very close. Toby loved his daddy very much and was very attached to him.

After five years after Toby was born, Elisa got pregnant again and gave birth to their second child: Bernardo (that’d eventually be nicknamed as “Brad”), one of the two only beings of the specie Alex and Elisa accidently created together.

For preucation, Alex took a bit of Brad’s blood and made some research, just like he did to Toby.

And what he found out wasn’t exactly... relieving.

Brad, just like Toby, was half human and half imp, but he had expressed mostly human features in his physical body. He was as small as a baby imp now, but it was a matter of time until he started to grow very VERY large.

Unlike Toby, Brad couldn’t live as an imp in the Colony and things got very complicated for them.

Alex wanted to leave. He told Elisa the Colony’s community would NEVER accept their youngest, they would never accept Alex and probably wouldn’t accept Toby either. They had to leave that place before they couldn’t hide the truth anymore, even if it cost revealing Toby, a five year old child, that most of his life was a lie.

But Elisa was hesitant. She didn’t want to leave her home, her parents, her friends. She knew Alex was right, they couldn’t stand that play for too long, but how to leave everything she had built behind? How to leave everything she knew as home behind? It wasn’t that easy.

Until something very bad happened.

Remember I said Alex made a few friends in the Colony? So, one of them was Stefan, a experienced fairy soldier that had known Elisa for as long as she was alive. He was pretty much her best friend (even if he was old enough to be her father) and now he was also great friends with Alex.

Stefan is important here. He has a very tragic backstory involving humans. He lost pretty much everything to them: his whole family and his wings, something that meant more than just flying to him.

So, as expected, he hates humans and truly believes that they are nothing more than monsters that try to manipulate you and to get advantage from imp’s and fairy’s magic. 

After some years, he started to get very suspicious over Alex. Some things weren’t making any sense anymore and that “nomad imp community” was starting to sound way more like an excuse than the actual truth. He simply didn’t understand what was stopping him to live with Elisa and his sons for once.

So he did some investigation. One day, he followed Alex (that he knew as Turk) out of the Colony, in one of the days he had only come to visit his family. Alex had said earlier that he had to “go back to his own society”. Yeah, right. Stefan was hiding the whole time and followed Alex till a good distane from the Colony’s limits. 

And he didn’t get exaclty happy to see his best friend growing impossibly huge out of nowhere.

Stefan now knew the truth: Alex was pretending to be an imp using shrinking potions. He didn’t belong to any nomad imp group, he was a human that lived in his own house and was coming to the Colony to play family with them.

Of course, he didn’t only felt betrayed, but pissed as fuck. Stefan didn’t waste any time: as soon as Alex came back to the Colony he confronted him. Alex tried to explain himself, but they only argued and ended up having a pretty bad fight.

In anger, Stefan didn’t want to hear no more explanations, so he told some of the Colony’s high authorities about Alex’s lies and that they had to do something about it. 

The Colony’s Council decided to call Elisa and solve things between imps and fairies only. But they showed her no mercy.

They basically gave her two options: or she’d prove her loyalty to the Colony and would kill her husband and her human son, or the Colony would sentence all of them to death penalty, including Toby and Brad, children that they claimed should have never been born. 

Elisa was in shatters. She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t kill the man she loved and her baby child, she just couldn’t. She was about to accept the second option, rathering die with her family than killing them, but Stefan decided to help her out.

He wasn’t expecting the Council to be so cruel and he started to regret his decisions the moment he saw how Elisa was worried about her family and how much she loved them, even if they were human. He hated Alex and Brad, but seeing Elisa in excruciating pain over them was impossible for him, so he made up a plan with her to save everybody.

It cost Elisa to trust Stefan, he had told their secrets to the worst people possible, but she had no option aside from accepting his help and following his plan.

The plan was simple: Elisa would tell the Council she’d kill Alex and Brad and would tell Alex that she had changed her mind and that they should leave the Colony as soon as possible now that Stefan knew the truth.

Alex believed her and, after Stefan’s confirmation, so the Council did. The next step was to take Alex and Brad to the Colony’s limits, pretending they were about to leave. 

Then it happened.

Elisa made, with Stefan’s help, a huge barrier on the Colony’s frontier that didn’t allowed humans to cross it. It was basically a security method that they never thought it’d be necessary.

But now it was and it wasn’t meant to protect the ones inside the Colony...

Of course, Alex didn’t understand SHIT.

He spent MONTHS returning to the Colony in his shrinking form, trying to find a way to cross the barrier and to get Toby back. 

Or to talk to Elisa.

Or to understand.

Or anything.

He just wanted his family.

Eventually, his potions ended and he was left to raise Brad on his own and to never see his wife and oldest son again.

Since then, he hates Elisa. Or at least thinks he does. He’s just deeply mad at her, he doesn’t understand why she left them. 

He did everything for her. Denyed his own race, submitted himself to the dangerous effects of a extremely nocive potion which he faces the consequences till this day, did his fucking best to be the best father and husband his family could have-

All this love, all this effort, all this sweat and blood

Wasted.

It took years for him to fully recover. Aside from the health problems the abusive use of the shrinking potions brought, he also became alcohoolic. Because he wasn’t mentally estable enough, neither to take care of himself and of his very very small son, he went to live in his parents house. His family knew about Elisa and the children they had together, his folks actually liked her a lot so it saddened them as well that she simply abandoned Alex and Brad and that they would never see Toby again.

His family didn’t had to worry about Brad’s very little size for too long though, before he was one year old he had already reached his human size.

Anyway, Alex’s family gave him a huge help until he was healthy enough to take care of Brad, the only one left from the family he built.

Back to Elisa, she didn’t told Alex her plan because she KNEW he wouldn’t want to do it. She simply knew Alex would be too stubborn. He’d have wanted to try to escape or to face the Council. Both alternatives would get them all killed.

Toby didn’t understand why his mother did what she did. He was forced to go back home with her, screaming the whole time, saying that they left his father and brother behind while Elisa was crying endelessly.

Stefan came to them eventually and calmed Toby down. His heart broke when he saw Elisa. She was... not okay.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to assist her. He immediatly went to a representent of the Council and took them to Elisa and to the Colony’s frontier to prove that she had done it and did even more than she was suppose to. Of course, not without consequences to her sanity, she had just killed her husband and baby, of course she was in pain.

Nevertheless, the Council confirmed Elisa had done her part and left to leave her alone with the child they let live.

After that, Toby spent weeks returning to that spot of the frontier to look for his dad and brother. No sucess.

As time went by, he eventually forgot about Brad, he was very young when they tore apart and Elisa and Stefan never talked about him nor Alex. All he can remember is that there was a baby in the middle of that mess, but he can’t relate to it.

He kept the memories of his father though, who was closer to him, and till this day he believes he’s alive somewhere and that he can be found. But he has no idea he’s a human and has no idea of his own true nature.

Elisa and Alex miss their respective sons deeply and think about them everyday. They also miss each other very much and the first months after the incident were terribly agonizing for the both of them.

They kept going for the child that had remained for the both of them and raised them apart from each other. Alex never told Brad what happened and so Elisa did to Toby. Like that, none of the brothers knew about the existence of each other.

Until the day Toby was sent, coincidentally, to his “little” brother’s house

And none of them has no idea of this fucking long backstory I just spent four months writing :)

enjoy

[vulpesse-arc]

au verses added  /  updated  /  still in the work  !

♡     ⸻     𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐚𝐮:   a woman with neither past nor future,  she is lamentably part of an ancient lineage of servants and gisaengs who never bothered to fight for a better present,  for a brighter future.  even in the current day,  with naught but few houses still working in the business of entertainment,  that’s where she has grown up and that’s where she will die:  there is no need for humans in the chambers where she dances and sings and performs,  for humans break easily and can never be truly fixed  ;  what is needed is a doll,  one that can be torn apart just as many times as it is necessary to do so,  only to easily put her jagged pieces back together.  but what happens when the doll becomes a monster,  a half-monster  ?  ever since the entity took residence in the depth of her mind,  ahri understood that this was her one and only chance to be more than a fragile little woman wearing garments of silk and velvet:  this was her one and only chance to have others beg at her feet.  and thus,  with a subconscious much too twisted and fragmented to be wholly dominated by the entity,  ahri is slowly learning how to control her monstrous self,  her freshly birthed desires,  her vicinity to the freedom that she has dreamt of for the entirety of her life.     

***   [   i miss my sweet home oc a lot but i don’t think i have time to be on so many blogs at the same time so this felt like the best solution to my love & adoration for this media  !  obviously,  ahri’s monster form revolves around the features of the nine tailed fox:  when she is only partially transformed,  she will have a constantly changing amount of tails and only when she will be wholly transformed,  will she actually resemble the beast of the myths.   ]

♡     ⸻     𝐏𝐒𝐘𝐂𝐇𝐎-𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒 𝐚𝐮:    a criminally asymptomatic woman,  who once foolishly dreamed of becoming a famous pop singer:  unfortunately,  due to the inability of the sibyl system to properly scan and categorize her value and thus decide on a path for her,  ahri soon became an achromatic ghost in a colorful society where everything was strictly and ultimately decided by the artificial mind & heart of the city.  thrown to the side and cruelly shunned by everyone around her,  ahri struggled for many years,  fighting against an impending sense of doom and drowning in an ever-haunting loneliness,  searching for a place in which she could finally be herself,  a place in which her colors could have shone as bright as those of anyone else.  in the end,  she found what she had been looking for in the illegal underground,  where anyone willing to oppose the dictatorship of sibyl gathered.  there,  she started performing for her “comrades”,  donning a fox mask in pursuance of concealing her real identity and focused on gathering as much information about the system as she could  ;  with her knowledge about technology and especially drones / bots,  she built herself a little family of artificial foxes that now serve as spies,  defenders and even hunting beasts.  although she does not have a real purpose in her life,  she is continuously searching for new stimuli and experiences,  intoxicated by the awareness that she can easily avoid the lethal shots of the dominators thanks to her curse,  thanks to her blessing. 

♡     ⸻     𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐚𝐮:   a creature of old,  one that hauntingly lingers in the most ancient of legends and in the most gruesome of tales narrated to naughty children before their bedtime:  ahri is an ancient creature,  a fox who has lived long enough to accumulate an enormous amount of mystical power within herself and who is now capable of freely molding her physical self at will.  her little home,  situated in the heart of an “enchanted” forest,  is rarely treaded ‘pon,  for the inhabitants of the nearby villages have yet to forget and move on from the inhumane screams that sometimes echo throughout the entire land.  in order to earn her favor and hopefully soothe her childishly irritable disposition,  each month the villagers leave jewels and incenses and books and exquisite fabrics in the outskirts of the forest:  truth to be told,  she does appreciate these little offerings a lot.  believed to bring good luck to lovers and dismay to hunters,  it is not too unusual for desperate lovestruck souls to seek for her help,  for the miraculous love potions that she is said to be crafting...  unfortunately,  one may never know which side the fox will take,  nor whether she will be willing to help or not.  despite her desire not to engage with the power plays between the royals and the grisha,  she is not against the idea of lending a hand   /   for the right price,  of course. 

***   [   ahri is ancient and capricious,  someone who has observed the world change from the comfortable safety of her little forest.  despite her innate hostility towards humans,  she is easily intrigued by the desires and goals of others,  especially if they are harbored by peculiar hearts:  the only way not to be eaten by her is indeed this,  to pique her attention.  she could be a valuable ally,  but is it really a good idea to trust a fox  ?   ]

♡     ⸻     𝐈𝐍𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐂𝐘𝐂𝐋𝐄 𝐚𝐮:  tba,  because i’m really struggling with this.  on one side,  she could easily be a “werefox”  (  since we canonically have werecats in the novels  )  but i don’t know if this sounds interesting...  or,  maybe she could simply be a spirit who has taken on a humane physical appearance to mingle with mortals  ?  still thinking about this,  might even re-read the books to see if i get any sudden inspiration.  one thing that i might work with is the fact that in the first book,  it is said that “The Spine was one of the only places that King Galbatorix could not call his own. Stories were still told about how half his army disappeared after marching into its ancient forest. A cloud of misfortune and bad luck seemed to hang over it.” so maybe that’s where ahri resides  ?  far from everyone,  in her own little realm,  ready to eat anyone who dares interrupt her peace. 

♡     ⸻     𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐚𝐮:   an ancient and malicious sorcerus hailing from the forgotten kingdom of ashkahi,  ahri has sacrificed her humanity in the name of the moon and his cult in pursuance of earning the abilities to manipulate the hearts and souls of others.  once her beloved home was lamentably eradicated from existence by the falling of the deity’s skull,  she began traveling across the world,  earning riches and breaking hearts and painting her hands in red whenever the situation called for it  ;  left without a purpose and without a hearth to ever come back to,  the soulless woman began to ultimately lose herself,  becoming naught but the selfish and hollow ghost of who she once was.  things,  however,  changed once she was requested to become part of the red church.  even though she currently does not appreciate the ones who rule over the church,  she remains loyal to the murderous cult of the mother...  waiting for something to happen,  for a reason to finally breathe again.

♡     ⸻     𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐚𝐮:   a coordinator with a dark past,  ahri is continuously struggling to find her place in the world.  after leaving floaroma town,  she and her vulpix were scouted by the team galactic with deceitful promises to create together a better future for everyone.  she fought hard and did her very best to blindly obey to every order that she was given but after the first real defeat of their leader,  she ended up abandoning the team out of all-devouring guilt.  in order to try and cleanse her hands from all the crimes that she had naively committed,  she started traveling from one region to the other,  capturing new friends,  strengthening her own mind and slowly growing interested in the world of contests:  rather than relying on violence,  these contests relied on beauty and grace and that felt like the fastest way to move away from all the pain and ache that she had previously caused.  currently, she is pursuing a career as a coordinator and is chasing the dream of spreading the traditions of the pokemon festivals across the other regions, as well  ;  her couple of ninetales has become two of the hardest foes to defeat in the field.

more tba. 

[my-arlington-academia]

Cliffany (Claire×Tiffany) part 1

Hello there!!! It’s been a while. Yes, you’re not dreaming, this is a crackship fanfiction between Claire and Tiffany from sweet elite. I wrote this a couple of weeks ago and posted it on the Dulcet discord server. I’ve decided to post them on tumblr if anyone is interested (or not, that’s fine too.)

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

"Cut the bullshit, Claire. I told you to stop sticking to me like glue!"

Tiffany was tired of it. No matter how many times she showed Claire how terrible she can be and how her words can cut deep, Claire kept coming back to her, looking for an explanation that doesn’t exist. Saying nonsensical one-liners like "are you really okay?" Or "You can talk to me if you need someone to listen." Tiffany found it pretty funny at first. Like, she could do any atrocity and this blond haired dumbass would come back to her anyway, thinking that she had some issues that needed fixing or something. After a while though, this shtick got annoying real quick. It was like Claire was completely unaware of who she was talking to and was blindly following the childish belief that everyone is kind and understanding on the inside.

"I’m just worried about you Tiffany, you keep pushing people away from you. That’s not good for your mental health. If you have troubles you can share them with someone..."

Tiffany sighed in exasperation. Was this girl senseless? Is that it?

"Listen here. I know you like to believe that everyone is good deep down but that’s not always the case. Not to mention, we’re not exactly close, you and I. If I wanted to "share" anything, it wouldn’t be with you."

"But..."

Claire’s eyes wavered for a second and she looked around, checking to see if there’s anyone nearby.

"...Honestly, the reason why I’m offering is because I don’t feel like you have anyone truly close to you. At least not in Arlington."

"Excuse me?"

One of the things that pissed Tiffany the most about Claire was that she could say the most insulting things with the best intentions, without any ounce of malice.

"Ha. And you’re the one to say this? You’re pretty much a wannabe psychiatrist who goes around being a punching bag for your classmates. People rely on you when they need you, but really? They don’t give a shit about you, honey."

Somehow, Claire’s gaze stayed on Tiffany, unchanging. This made her want to be meaner, more vicious, strike the parts she’s sensitive about. Claire was known to be patient like a saint and understanding like a mother. How nice would it be to finally put this dumb bitch in her place? Tiffany wanted to get a reaction from her, not only to make her leave but also because she was kind of interested to see what face she would make when she got upset.

"Oh, my apologies. What I told you just now, you were already aware of it, weren’t you? That you’re only needed as long as you’re useful. You might think that people like you Claire, but don’t get the wrong idea. You’re only useful, not lovable. Tell me about it sometime, how is it to be a walking doormat?"

Tiffany could feel it. Despite the fact that Claire’s expression still hasn't changed, there was a certain glow forming in her eyes. If she went on for long enough, she may be able to get the reaction she wanted.

"...Are you done, Tiffany? Can we talk like two civilized people now?"

"Hm. What was that? Do I hear some bitterness there, Miss I-Have-A-Savior-Complex? You probably got a lot of praise, huh? For your stupid speech at the department competition with your whole "people gather in front of misfortune" bullshit. Or- Ah! How could I forget, you also volunteer at the city’s hospital during weekends, right? You get all the praise and credit needed to get into Gold Tier even though all you really want is acknowledgement for your sorry existence."

Claire grabbed her skirt’s hem and kept tugging at it, looking down. In reality, Tiffany knew that there was no ill-will whatsoever behind Claire’s benevolent actions towards the people she took care of at the hospital. That was, however, the reason why she was so pissed right now. Instead of protesting against those baseless insults, Claire kept her silence, swallowing up her pride, waiting for this storm of verbal abuse to be over. At this point, Tiffany’s small conscience was telling her to stop. Yet, she couldn’t. Not now, not when she was getting closer and closer to results. And so, she kept pushing, wondering when Claire will finally talk back.

"Is that really what you think of me, Tiffany?"

"What’s wrong? Are you unable of taking any criticism, Claire? Or maybe you’re not used to being called out for your BS. You want it, don’t you? You want everyone to love you and have them keep you by their side while you’re playing the role of a perfect little girl who helps the weak but who’s just no fun to be with. The truth is that you just never learned to say no when people asked favors of you and it stayed as a habit. But instead of fixing that habit, you just went along with it, enjoying the attention."

Claire’s lips were starting to twist downward. There it was. The anger of being so blatantly insulted, the frustration of having to play nice even in front of someone who’s rude to you, the need to get all of those negative feelings out on someone and hurt them back either mentally or physically. Come hit me, yell at me and insult me. I finally get to see what you’re always hiding. No matter how ugly it is, I’ll accept it and laugh at it once you’re done pouring it out. When it comes to belittling others and making them feel worthless, I’m just the best at it.

"Honey, what’s going on? Want to turn back after coming so far? Well, I wouldn’t blame you. This is about the time when anyone would leave. Ah, by the way. Did you know that there was a certain rumor going around about the Durand family? Something like... a family member having a real nasty disease or something? So tell me who it is. Your mom, your dad? Surely not! He’s still working diligently everyday to take care of his little research facility in Florida. It would be terrible if he was actually pushing himself too hard to keep the business going, right?"

Tiffany finally went silent, grinning to herself, waiting impatiently for the crack to open and let the ocean out. Show it, Claire. Show that you can fight back so I can ridicule you even more for overselling your annoying "sweet girl" image.

However, none of that ever came.

"...Why... did you have to..."

Claire finally raised her head, showing a face full of tears. Despite that, she was trying to keep a smile on her face. "I’ve never seen anyone cry like that." Tiffany uselessly thought at first, until a wave of guilt she wasn’t even aware of went through her small conscience. There was something so upsetting about someone getting insulted to no-end and choosing to cry instead of letting their anger out. If only she exploded and hit her or yelled at her, it would’ve been better. But now, Tiffany felt like she just did something illegal. Attacked someone who didn’t have the means to defend themselves, who *didn’t* want to. Like she just robbed a homeless person who had barely any change left. It may have been the first time in her life that Tiffany truly felt pathetic for what she did. Shame, guilt, confusion. It was all welling up inside of her.

"Wh-why... *sniffle* Did you have to go so far... *sob* That was uncalled for..."

And yet you’re still not leaving? What’s wrong with this girl?! Before she even knew what was happening, Tiffany’s arms were reluctantly holding Claire into a tight embrace.

"A-are you a complete lunatic?? Why would you let me say all of this shit and cry afterwards?! That’s not how it works, you should’ve insulted me back and told me to fuck off!"

"I-I can’t... *sniff*"

"Why not?! Why can I and you can’t? You’re such a fucking moron, what the hell is wrong with you... When someone hits you, you hit them back! That’s basic knowledge every little kid has ever since kindergarten."

Claire’s hands slowly went up to return Tiffany’s hug. Through that small gesture, Tiffany felt every bit of emotion Claire was trying to communicate to her.

"Because... *sniffle* If I did you’d get sad and this conversation would end with both of us feeling sad... *sniffle* I know that you always act like you don’t care but, the truth is that you always get upset about what other people have to say about you, right? ...Especially with all of your social media accounts and the exposure you get. It must already be so hard to get so much unwanted criticism everyday even though you never asked for it..."

For some reason, before she even knew it, Tiffany’s heart rate picked up ever so slightly. To the point where neither she nor Claire even noticed it. After a relatively short amount of time, Tiffany let go of Claire, finally noticing how wet her blazer had gotten.

"Ugh. Seriously? Couldn’t you have at least- Oh God... You look like complete shit, go wash your face."

To that rude remark, Claire smiled gently, knowing that it didn’t have any malice behind it. Tiffany caught herself thinking that Claire really was an angel. She quickly erased it though. She didn’t want them to get involved in each other's business again, seeing how it can end. She didn’t want to make her cry again, no matter how weird that sounded coming from someone who never misses the chance to be a jerk. While parting ways, Claire’s crying face went through Tiffany’s mind again, filling her up with the desperate need to punch herself.

[southeastasianists]

Editor’s note: The following is a guest piece authored by LGBT+ advocacy group Heckin Unicorn on so-called conversion therapy in Singapore. It was not produced by Coconuts Singapore.

Sam embarked on a journey of self-discovery in his 20s. He had been through many abusive relationships, and for reasons he couldn’t quite grasp, he’d always felt that something was missing in his life. Sam wanted to get in tune with his emotions. He wanted to heal.

At 26, Sam flew to Japan to attend a spiritual workshop. The workshop’s exercise was simple, but intense: attendees were paired up, and for 3 hours, each pair had to stare meditatively into each other’s eyes. The poetic beauty in this exercise wasn’t lost to him: staring into the windows of another’s soul would help him get in touch with his own.

Yet for hours, nothing happened.

Then his sensei came over and gently touched his chest, or what spiritual practitioners called the “heart space”. And in a single stroke, Sam’s inner soul broke loose with an explosive force. He started shrieking — so uncontrollably, in fact, that he had to be restrained by several workshop attendees. Anguish, anger, and confusion raced through his mind. It was an excruciating 30 minutes of raw physical reaction, as if years of emotions ripped through his body. Yet it was nothing compared to what was about to hit him in the months to come.

Because in that moment, something clicked into place. Sam suddenly recalled that he was a victim of “conversion therapy” over a decade ago. He finally understood why he’d always felt that something was missing, and why he felt so strongly that he had to heal himself. Deeply repressed and harrowing memories came rushing back like an avalanche.

Sam fought to stay alive over the next 3 months. He suffered from hallucinations, and would cry inconsolably for days on end. He would vomit uncontrollably. His body burned in pain. He wanted to end the suffering. He wanted to end his life. But in between the painful outbreaks, Sam found the strength to fight for his survival. He knew that to live, he had to find out more about what had happened to him. He began researching extensively about “conversion therapy”, and the more he researched, the more he recalled the lost years of his adolescence.

Slowly, his memories fell into place.

Sam went through a lot at a young age. He learnt that he was gay while going through puberty. And through interactions with his closest family members, he learned that it was something he needed to get rid of.

When he came out to his mum at 13, she told him that she expects a grand funeral when she dies. It was her cold, indirect way of telling him that she expects him to bear children and grandchildren for her. When Sam turned to his aunt, she called him derogatory names and told him that people will not accept him if he continues to be gay. The message from his family was clear: turn straight, or else.

So at 15, Sam scoured the internet for answers about his sexuality. In the age of dial-up internet, genuine LGBTQ+ content was hard to come by. The information that he found about STDs scared him — HIV was still called the “gay virus” back then. Sam started getting desperate. He needed to find a way to turn straight.

And then he found a solution — or so he thought.

Sam began attending a “conversion therapy” programme offered by a local church when he was 15. It marketed itself as a counselling service that could help people who were “struggling with unwanted same-sex attraction”, and sounded exactly like what Sam was looking for. Even though he only signed up for their counselling services, he felt compelled to attend their church services as the years went by. His family never knew that he was participating in “conversion therapy” sessions; they were more concerned that he was converting from Taoism to Christianity.

Perhaps the scariest part about the “conversion therapy” programme was how, to 15-year-old Sam, it just felt right. Sam’s 1-on-1 sessions with his counsellor felt like normal counselling sessions. Sure, scripture was quoted a lot in their hour-long sessions, but to Sam — and anyone who desperately wanted to turn straight, for that matter — everything seemed to make sense. Because in a world full of rejection, the programme claimed to provide all the answers.

Sam’s memories about his counselling sessions are hazy, but their core message remains clear in his mind: you’ll go to hell if you’re gay. It was a powerful and terrifying message, and it fueled Sam’s desire to continue with the programme. He didn’t know back then that his sexual desires were innate and perfectly normal, so he confided his feelings with his counsellor and followed everything he was instructed to do. For a long time, everything he heard in his counselling sessions made him feel like turning straight was a real possibility.

Celibacy was a strong mandate of the “conversion therapy” programme. Sam’s counsellor told him many times that he would go to hell unless he stopped masturbating. He told Sam that it was wrong and sinful to have sexual desires. And as an impressionable teenager going through the peak of puberty, Sam absorbed and believed everything his counsellor told him.

Throughout his 4 years in the programme, Sam suppressed his desires and took things to the extreme. He would hold tightly onto his bed frame every night before going to bed to prevent himself from touching his body. It was a physically and mentally exhausting exercise, but Sam managed to push through every night for 6 consecutive months before he succumbed to his desires. He wouldn’t know this until years later, but this extreme psychological conditioning left him with a debilitating inability to touch himself.

In one church session, the pastor discouraged churchgoers from listening to secular music. Only Christian music should be allowed in their lives, the pastor declared. The next week, Sam brought his entire music CD collection to church, and watched it being burnt and destroyed. Sam was so enthralled by the programme’s promises that no physical coercion was required to get him to engage in such extreme activities. To him, listening to everything they say was the only way to not end up in hell.

There were a few reasons that ultimately made Sam leave the programme after 4 years. First of all, nothing worked. Sam knew that he was still gay, and that all he managed to do was to suppress his innate desires and convince himself that he isn’t worthy of love. He was also harassed by a cell group leader, but nothing seemed to be done about it after he raised this up to the church leadership. And in an attempt to negotiate some joy back into his life, Sam asked a church friend if God would accept him if he were to be in a loving gay relationship, but abstained from sex for life. The answer: an unequivocal no.

When Sam left the programme at 19, he wasn’t a changed man — he was broken. He left not because he realised that their teachings harmed his mental health, but because after 4 years of trying, he has resigned to his fate of going to hell.

Sam turns 38 this year. And in the last decade or so, he’s been to hell and back.

After spending thousands of dollars in medical scans, Sam was diagnosed with fibromyalgia. In simple terms, he experiences chronic physical pain induced by his extreme psychological trauma (side note: psychological trauma isn’t the only factor that could induce symptoms of fibromyalgia). These painful outbreaks aren’t just unpredictable, but also incurable. His chest would tighten and he would gasp for air; his face would twitch suddenly and uncontrollably; he would suffer from the inability to speak; he is often fatigued and would suffer from migraines.

Sam also faced considerable financial challenges over the last couple of decades. There were months when Sam was unable to get out of bed. His inner demons would take control, and he would find himself once again fighting for his life. Because of this, Sam had been in and out of jobs. This, coupled with his expensive medical treatment and therapies, set his finances back considerably.

It would be nice if we could end Sam’s story on a positive note. But the truth is that even though Sam is a fierce survivor, his experience with “conversion therapy” still affects him decades after the sessions have ended. Sam isn’t ready to date yet, because he thinks that he carries too much emotional baggage for any relationship to work. He continues to face difficulties fully accepting his sexuality, even though he understands that there’s nothing wrong with being gay. And he continues to sleep with his arms wide apart, because physical contact still makes his body burn in pain.

Let this be clear: “conversion therapy” practices exist in Singapore. Many of these programmes continue to showcase “success” cases without acknowledging, or perhaps understanding, how “conversion therapy” can irreparably damage a person’s psychological and physical wellbeing.

According to the United Nations, any attempt to change or suppress someone’s sexual orientation or gender identity is a form of “conversion therapy”. Many international psychiatric organisations have condemned “conversion therapy” practices because the medical consensus agrees that they not only don’t work, but could cause mental harm to participants (page 115). Taiwan has fully banned “conversion therapy” practices, while Germany has done so for minors. Other countries such as Canada, Israel, New Zealand, and the UK are considering legislation that would make them illegal.

Yet “conversion therapy” remains legal in Singapore. Many teenagers like Sam will continue to enrol in programmes that psychologically condition them to suppress their innate sexuality. Most of them would emerge from the programmes with their sexuality unchanged, but mental health deeply affected. Some of them will kill themselves.

[wangxiangiftexchange]

Lunar New Year Gift for vedrividia!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****

Transverse

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

Needless to say, he was desperate for a drink.

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

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

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

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

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

He really needed that drink.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The guy bristled.

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

His crutch shot up before the full sentence was out.

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

"Hey! What's your problem?!"

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

"You alright there, girl?"

His gut clenched at the words.

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

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

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

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

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

That explained the ache.

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

After all, he had done this to himself.

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

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

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

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

He remembered falling.

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

It had felt nothing like now.

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

Only the failure felt the same, funny that.

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

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

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

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

"Wei Ying?"

Wei Ying froze.

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

"Lan Zhan?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wondered if Lan Zhan still could see that too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So wonderful and kind and warm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was a pause.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Different," Lan Zhan finished.

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

Lan Zhan looked at him for a long moment.

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

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

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

Always so straight to the point.

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

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

"I…"

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

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

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

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

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

Their eyes met. A heartbeat of silence.

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

Wei Ying had not expected that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wei Ying's brain was white static.

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

His whole body wanted to recoil with shock.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wei Ying picked up on the question immediately.

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

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

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

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

Wei Ying couldn't help but smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lan Zhan just stared, wordlessly.

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

Honestly, when wasn't it?

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

Wait. Pause. Rewind.

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

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

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

"Mn."

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

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

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

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

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

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

For a while Wei Ying just looked at him.

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

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

"I missed you too."

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

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

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

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

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

If Lan Zhan wanted, that was.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Baba, baba, you're home!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"A-Yuan!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[featherwurm]

Stories

Longer narratives with complex character interaction and distinct through-lines. (Please note that this is not a free prompt - these are my own personal Wips.)

The Eternal General - A man is forced through a grueling ordeal in a low-fantasy world as the actions of the man he served as head general take shape as an unearthly monstrosity. This begins an endless bond of servitude to otherworldly forces and an eternity of different lifetimes (Features: Marcus, Rin, Ivan, Ytra.) This is a collaborative project with @fullyfunctionalminiaturebeehive.

Scratched Sky - Lifetimes and worlds away from where he began, Marcus finds himself in a world nearly destroyed through outside forces which took his likeness and were forestalled by an embittered and exhausted Ivan. He is forced into a life of recluse as we learn of the outfall of the creatures that Marcus has become bound to. (Features: Marcus, Ivan, Lynne, Shay.) This is a collaborative project with @fullyfunctionalminiaturebeehive.

Longbody Dragons - Below the ocean a reclusive empire reigns, and these dragons ferociously guard their own secrets. The Dragon King pits his many offspring against each other to determine who will succeed him and protect his empire from any interaction with the outside world. The twins, Shen and Su, take very different paths in life, but when Su's self-imposed exile comes to an end, there will be major change. (Features: Shen, Su, Dragon God Rahab, Ji-Ho.)

Gryphon and Dragon - Two creatures from another time that seem very out of place in a world where, from a technological dark age, a strange dieselpunk future has arisen. They must both unravel the strange mysteries of her past (who she is, why she is subservient to human will and whim), and going forward, ensure they understand his kind (what kind of a creature has the mind of a man but venom enough to fell him). When they find Gryphon's sisters, they are in for more than either of them is ready to take on, but out of duty and out of obligation they will go forward to whatever end. (Features: Gryphon the Sphinx, Dragon, Irina, Olga, Masha.)

Parnassus - A creature who at once seems beautiful, alluring, and otherworldly copes with being ripped from his homeland in an event that nearly destroyed him. Along the way he finds and gives much kindness to many, and the ways in which it trickles through their lives is complex and deep. (Features: Parnassus, Esquiline, Lucifer, the Tendriled Woman.)

The Voices - Strange and horrible creatures rise from the sites of massive human calamity in a slowly post-apocalyptic world. What they do, who they interact with, and what happens to them may be critical to the remainder of human life in the world (Features: The Voice of the Drowned, the Voice of the Decadant, the Voice of the Burned, the Bird.)

Humanfolk - ‘Humanity’ at the brink of collapse has split into three subgroups through various means, the humans, the flight-afflicted, and the merfolk. While once a hope of the last bastion of human thought, the merfolk had long since distanced themselves from land-dwelling humans and were considered little more than a food source. The flight afflicted are the result of a strange sickness that warps the mind and body - giving the precious gift of flight at the cost of reason and understanding. Humanity will have to find new ways to survive. (Features: Orcafolk, Flight Afflicted.) This story may blend with The Voices.

Vali the Dreamwalker - A story about surviving, enduring, and eventually thriving. Vali is gifted with the incredible ability to traverse and alter the dreams of any living thing, but ultimately, for all his efforts, healing will be his ultimate trial. (Features: Vali, Media, Oxalis, Fenn, A'thel, En'thel, B'rath, Ensen, Neis.)

Anton the Changed - A circus is abducted and altered by the fae for their own entertainment, some 100 years after this, one of their members manages to escape back to the mortal realm, although he has been permanently changed by the ordeal. He finds others that understand him and together they plan rescue of those he was bound with. (Features: Anton, Pleasant, King, Malachi, Samuel, The Fish.)

Anachronism - An immortal afraid of the ways in which the world changes, they have tried to keep to strange 'time bubbles' where the world stays still as time moves forward around them. When they are shunted from their last bastion of an older time, they are forced to confront the modern world and their own nature. (Features: Butler Cross, Rail.)

The Unable - Strange tentacle-headed creatures appear one day on our planet, inert apart from their subservience to any human whim. Their existence becomes a new economy, until, at last, one day they appear to awaken and develop wills of their own.

The Gardener - At the forefront of human bio-engineering and molecular botany, a strange and singular person lives in total recluse. Despite their successes, there is much they hide. They are forced to confront their own issues as they deal with corporate espionage, the ethics of synthetically made life and sapience, and reconciling a painful past. (Features: The Gardener, Glass.)

The Pitfighters - In a wold where manipulation of the human body can be pushed to tremendous and frightening physical extremes, underground pitfighting is a brutal blood sport fed by using the bodies of the illegal and the unwanted. Three different former pitfighters tell their stories in a political drama (Mercutio), a buddy road trip (Tac and Ephra), and a gentle love story (Tom and Zir) (Features: Mercutio, Tac, Tom, Ephra the Shifter, and Zir the Reptile Charmer)

Sinkhole City - In the world, strange portals to some other place are opening, and while they are dangerous, people seem drawn to them, and cities form around their edges. In this strange place Leon, recovering from a previous life, discovers many secrets and quirks of it, and the dramas that play out because of it. (Features: Leon, Lynne, the Horned Man, Rin, Ivan.)

The Beast of 1,000 Shadows - The monster lives far and away in distant hills and changes her form when she removes her pelt. She has different ones, but not many, and those that pass through her domain know to fear her. All but one. One who had been through many other things long before and marked them all on her skin in her own way. A wanderer and a wayfarer who found reason to pause. (Features: The Beast of 1,000 Shadows, The Tattooed Woman.)

Soft Minotaur - A version of the myth where the poor beast escapes with the help of two Athenian sacrifices, seeking only a simple life.

Quellus and Cipher - Raised in secret to be trained as the perfect king, the young man known only as Cipher (his real name lost - it was supposed to be a cipher for him to determine), suffers in the military academy where he has been pushed ahead, ahead, ahead, even though he'd rather retreat into the woods. When he is revealed as prince, his elder brother Quellus, with much hesitance and love, helps him flee from their war-torn society. (Features: Quellus, Cipher, Cipher's Sister.)

The Raw - ... I was going through some things. (Features: The Raw.)

The Unnamed World of the Four Schools - When a war for conquest comes to the Dark Mage's swamp, she is forced out of the neutrality that binds mages to lives of recluse. Reluctantly joining up with the mage, Arthur of the Woods, the two of them journey to forestall further conflict, and prevent a magic war that could damage the very fabric of reality. (Features The Dark Mage, Arthur of the Woods.)

The Unwitting Mage - Terrivald had lived a peaceful life under his brother's shadow, quietly enjoying a solitary life in his library, until a baffling artifact of elven making and a strange prophecy teleport him halfway across the world. As he journeys home, he must discern the purpose and abilities of said artifact, and whether or not he truly believes that he is some sort of savior figure, or if someone is simply having a laugh. (Features: Terivald, Navaras, Sandstorm.)

I often record my more memorable dreams as short fiction with accompanying illustrations. They are all tagged under 'Dream' and are sometimes a starting point for a longer piece of fiction.

I occasionally make short comics if I think the idea suits the medium.

My husband, @fullyfunctionalminiaturebeehive is working on a story involving Sihal, Farrow, Agate, Fall, Muriel, Rochelle, and others (side characters include Druzy, Saphire, Emerald, Snowflake Obsidian, etc.)

Some old stories may or may not see the light of day (but have some fragmentary existence in my portfolios) include: Mortalis, D.R.L.H., There are Places, Unfortunate Innocence, Vlasis and Lavinia, Lane Davenforth.

[cle1024]

drunk in love | hjs

member: han jisung 

genre: angst 

summary: jisung is a lightweight; no matter what kind of alcohol he ingests, he somehow manages to become completely obliterated in minutes. as his best friend, you tend to take on the duty of taking care of him during his inebriated moments, even if it hurts you in the process.  friends to lovers!au, college!au 

warnings: swearing, alcoholism, brief mention of drug use 

a/n: credit to @str9ykids​ for the gif <3 this is kind of friends to lovers, kind of complicated

Han Jisung was a great guy; he was talented, creative, intelligent, passionate, charismatic, entertaining. There was a genuine care held within his eyes that most orbs missed, even in moments of honesty and loyalty, an underlying message whenever he spoke with someone about their hardships. He always seemed to understand and sympathise with people who ranted to him as a form of therapy, always willing to listen to whatever was on their mind regardless of how minute the issue. The only downfall you’d found in your time knowing him was his inability to know his limits. There had been numerous occasions of overworking himself, as well as breakdowns after trying to bottle up all his problems and emotions until he cracked under the immense pressure. Of course you were always there to pick up the pieces, that’s what friends do, and he was always there to thank you in the long run. Though, there was one particular limit of Jisung’s that even he was conscious of: his inability to hold any form of alcohol. Despite being strong in both mental and physical ways, the boy was an undeniable lightweight. Every morning after a night of drinking he’d wake with a splitting headache, downing a glass of water and painkillers you’d left for him, but he never changed his ways. At first, you’d brushed it off as a bad habit, perhaps an early and worrying sign of alcohol addiction. Over time you’d started to wonder if there was an underlying reason he allowed himself to become absolutely obliterated, his mind seemingly detached from his body as he stumbled around whatever party or club he’d found himself in. 

Even if he was mentally strong, he had his moments of weakness―it’s human nature, after all. Those moments where his walls crumbled and he shed tears of stress, anger, raw and unrelenting sadness. You couldn’t help but wonder what kind of secrets lied beneath his emotional shield, only reaching the surface in those rare moments of giving out under immense pressure. As much as you wanted to pry, Jisung was just too damn good at keeping secrets. Everything was brushed off with a laugh and joke about how you’re going soft on him, but he was always thankful for your concern nonetheless. Nothing ever erased your concern; Jisung continued his destructive drinking habits and secretive behaviour. Even when you saw the occasional slip-ups and heard the drunken babbles of “I wish I could tell you the truth” before he knocked out, Jisung was far too good at lying about his feelings to have you take it as anything other than a bad day. So, you moved on from the questions about his emotions and just took on the duty of taking care of him when he was wasted beyond belief. Things would be easier that way, wouldn’t they? You’d put him to bed, stay the night, leave water and painkillers before leaving his dorm. Then you’d see him in one of your classes looking like he crawled from the depths of Hell and tell him all the embarrassing things he did in his drunken state. That’s how things were supposed to go, but some slip-ups just can’t go unacknowledged. 

Jisung didn’t think he had a drinking problem, but he also didn’t know how to deal with his problems. Drinking until he was numb and venturing another realm always seemed like a good choice until he made more mistakes in his drunken and gave himself new reasons to abuse his liver. Some mistakes were worse than others; deciding to wear a white shirt when he knew he couldn’t keep a steady hand after drinking, listening to the encouragement of his friends―almost as drunk―and attempting to jump from one side of someone’s pool to the other, as well as other injury-inducing actions. Though one of his worst mistakes was one that came about during a sober mindset. It wasn’t a decision, necessarily, so does it really count as a mistake? Regardless, Jisung found himself tangled up in emotions he shouldn’t be feeling. He shouldn’t want to kiss you, his best friend―that’s all you were, after all, a friend. Yet the urge withstood his relentless berating, his drunken kisses with other people who’d never given him a name to call them by, its persistence drove him to the brink of desperation. Knowing that you would never feel the same way ― or, rather, assuming you would never reciprocate such feelings ― pushed him over the edge, and he found himself tumbling down a dark hole of irreversible mistakes, fabricated feelings and verbal mishaps. Though, in the end, it didn’t matter what Jisung did to forget about his feelings or have them blossom for someone else, it was something he could never get out of his head. He drank to forget but he always remembered, and now he was falling far beyond return. 

“Hey, baby,” you rolled your eyes at your friend’s words. That was another habit Jisung had, aside from excessive drinking, he often said things he didn’t mean. He played with words, took their meaning and stripped them down to platonic nouns and adjectives. It bothered you to no end, mainly because you could never figure out when he was being serious and when he was teasing, it all blended into one neutral speech. You hummed in response, eyes remaining focused on the bright screen of the laptop in front of you. A huff escaped Jisung’s lips, slightly unimpressed with your lack of interest, “good to see you too,” he deadpanned. There was always something about you that drew Jisung in. Perhaps your appearance, personality, thought patterns, interests, passion―it was evidently more than one thing. Your presence was a soothing hug in the midst of a ferocious storm, easing worries with a simple smile or comment about the weather, a habit he’d always found endearing. Now that he thought about it, he can’t remember the first time he noticed it. Frankly, he couldn’t even remember the first time he noticed you, but he was always grateful his brown orbs caught sight of you and not someone else. You were the kind of friend anyone would yearn for, loyal, understanding, helpful, appreciative. There was a lot he could praise you for, but there simply isn’t enough time within the average human lifespan. There were many other things Jisung couldn’t remember about you: when did you become his sober caretaker on drunken nights, his closest friend, his favourite design major, his first true love? Many things had happened in Jisung’s life that had simply slipped his memory, he liked to blame it on his over-drinking habit and found it to be bothersome, but nothing ever changed. He still chugged such liquids like the sun wouldn’t rise above the horizon the following day; he knew that one day it wouldn’t. Though, he also knew that one day the alcohol excuse would stop working. At some point he’d have to face the damage he’d done, internally and externally, and the mistakes he’d made under the ‘influence’ of alcohol. Someday it would all come crashing down and he hadn’t a clue how to deal with it. He shook off the depressing thought, it was something he could worry about in time, when that day inevitably comes. That day is not today. 

“Plans for tonight?” He questioned eagerly, leaning on his crossed arms as you tapped your keyboard in thought. Your nose scrunched slightly as you pondered the question, a soft smile appearing on Jisung’s pink lips as you did so. 

“Study, but I’m assuming that’s going to change to taking care of your drunk ass?” An amused smile graced your features as Jisung narrowed his eyes in your direction. 

“I mean, yeah, but what’s wrong with that?” the boy sounded thoroughly insulted, “best friends take care of each other!” 

“Yes, but I wasn’t aware they also vomit on each other’s carpet. You’re so lucky I got that out or your ass would be grass, Han,” he held up his hands in surrender with wide eyes. Of course you weren’t holding a grudge against him―not anymore, at least―but you always got a kick out of bringing up one of Jisung’s most embarrassing moments, “where are you headed?” 

“Hyunjin’s, his frat is throwing a party at nine,” as per usual. You had nothing against Hyunjin or the frat he was in, in fact you found both to be tolerable and quite welcoming in comparison to cinematic portrayals, but the parties they threw were another story. Loud, rowdy, chaotic, illegal. You weren’t sure how no one had called with noise complaints, or how no one had been carted off to a holding cell for doing cocaine off someone’s ass, but there were some questions you didn’t really want answers to. Another reason you hated their parties specifically was the alcohol. There was so much of it, a never ending fountain of mind-numbing concoctions to go around, and of course that meant dealing with a very, very, wasted Han Jisung. 

You huffed slightly, “just don’t drink too much. For once.” 

“I won’t, I promise!” Jisung slaps a hand against the table in excitement before picking up his backpack and bidding goodbye, rushing off to his next class. That was another thing that irritated you about Jisung, he was a damn liar. 

The bass thumped throughout the house, strobe lights blinding you and energetic partygoers blocking your path. Jisung was amongst them you assumed―you arrived at the party two hours after it started, purely because you were dreading the crowded environment. In all honesty, you weren’t in the mood for a party tonight, but you were here for Jisung’s sake. You found yourself in the midst of drunken parties for said reason quite often. Jisung was a drunken mess, borderline alcoholic, and most of his friends lacked the sobriety or responsibility to take care of him in such a state. Thus, you took on the role of Jisung’s ‘caretaker’, as Seungmin once put it. Your thoughts were broken by a drunk Jisung stumbling in your direction, eyes rolling slightly at the sight. Here we go. 

“Y/N!” He cheered, dragging out the last letter of your name before hiccuping slightly. You opened your mouth to respond, only to be shut down by Jisung’s hand around your wrist and voice in your ear, “come on! Let’s dance!” 

He attempted to tug on your wrist, weakened by the alcohol in his body. You saw Changbin approaching from the corner of your eye, the male smiling sympathetically and gesturing to Jisung, “he’s already so far gone, party only started an hour ago.” 

“Go figure.” 

Changbin chuckled lightly, “yeah, he seemed to want to get his mind off something,” he shrugged nonchalantly, “he should probably be getting home. I’ve had a few, will you be alright to get him home?” 

You nodded stiffly. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, but a feeling in your gut warned you something was going to happen if you did. Something bad―but perhaps that was just the stench of alcohol churning your stomach. 

When did Jisung become so damn heavy? Perhaps it was when he stopped using his legs to help you drag him into your apartment. You would’ve taken him back to his apartment―you should have taken him back to his apartment―but his roommate wasn’t exactly the most empathetic when the boy was absolutely obliterated, or painfully hungover. Besides, his apartment block had so many stairs. A breath of relief passed your lips as you dropped Jisung on your bed, moving his legs so his full body was laid out comfortably. 

“Sleep on your side, I’ll go get you a bucket,” you advised as Jisung hummed groggily and shifted his position. Your footsteps were gentle along the dark floorboards as you crept towards the cupboard, scavenging for the blue bucket you often used when mopping the floors. After placing the bucket next to the bed, you shuffled towards the kitchen to retrieve a cold glass of water and a headache tablet―Jisung always managed to give himself a sore head before he even reached the hangover stage, you’d give him another in the morning for the inevitable and monstrous hangover. Jisung breathed gently with half-lidded eyes, brown orbs following you as you pulled the blankets up to his chin. The warmth flooded his exhausted body, ensuring his warmth throughout the note. As you shifted the blanket to cover him fully, the words just came spilling out. His voice was soft, almost a murmur when he spoke. 

“I love you, Y/N.” 

Your body went frigid at the words. Of course he meant it in a platonic sense, he must have meant it in a platonic sense, but he’d never said those three words before―not to you, nor to one of his ex-partners, as far as you knew. Han Jisung wasn’t the type to throw such a word around so flippantly. His brown eyes stared into yours, causing you to shift your gaze intentionally, “y-yeah, love you too, ‘Sung.” 

The boy shook his head dramatically, “no, no, no. I love you as more than a friend,” he exclaimed with an emphasis on the ‘more’. A heavy silence fell in the air as you stayed silent. All words escaped you in that moment; what could you say? Was it untruthful, drunken slurs or a genuine confession? Jisung’s borderline whisper sliced through the silence, “I know you don’t feel the same.” 

Pushing the hair off his forehead, you offered a small smile, “we can talk about this when you’re sober. Goodnight, Jisung.” 

With those words, you flicked the lamp off and exited the room, gently shutting the door behind you. Jisung shifted his legs in search of comfort, eyes lowering as he mulled over your words. Even in his drunken state he could feel his heart tear at the realisation that you didn’t, and would likely never, reciprocate his romantic feelings. By the time morning had come, both of you had decided to pretend the words were never spoken. 

Saying that things between you and Jisung had been… off after that night was the epitome of an understatement. For two people who were almost attached at the hip, considered one another family and had an unfathomable amount of loyalty and trust within one another, awkward glances and avoidance were weird. It was as if an unspoken agreement had been made between the two of you ― smile if you have to, then fucking leg it. Don’t talk to one another, don’t make an effort to see one another, and certainly don’t talk about the drunken words that spewed from Jisung’s mouth. To distract yourself from the absence in your life, and heart, you threw yourself into your studies, though that only seemed to be a temporary fix as you swiftly burnt out. The two of you had a mutual friend, Somi, who you’d confided in after it was clear things with Jisung could never go back to normal. She’d helped as much as she could, took you out of your familiar bedroom to cozy cafes and blooming parks in the middle of town you’d somehow never seen. When she suggested a night out, another frat party of a friend’s-friend, a part of you cried in resistance. Everytime you’d gone to a college you ended up hauling Jisung’s wasted ass into a car and sobering him up before he slept, what were you to do now? You didn’t want to see him either, and it seemed to be inevitable considering how Jisung spent his nights―perhaps he would spend that upcoming night at the party, drinking to forget the friction between him and his best friend. You certainly were. 

There was a part of you that understood why Jisung allowed himself to be thrown into a night of nonsensical drunken thoughts and gravitationally difficulties. At this point, you weren’t certain how long you had been within the frat house, each pulse of the bass and change in coloured lighting seemed to blur together in an almost nauseating succession. In all honesty, you weren’t even certain if Somi was still on the dance floor or if she had, as did you, found a stray wall to lean against as she recomposed herself and figured out how to stand without wobbling. You hadn’t seen Jisung, but you had seen Changbin, so you assumed the younger was there too―the two had some sort of tradition of getting shitfaced together, probably because they shared the same stress over music production and assignments put aside for far too long. There was a ruckus sounding in the room you stood in ― it wasn’t the main room, where everyone danced far too close for comfort and shared sweat, but it was a mainly empty space near the stairs that gave you a clear view of the partygoers. It sounded as if a drunken scuffle had started on the second floor, probably inebriated douchebags with low anger tolerance and a great sense of entitlement―the kind of people who have the immediate instinct to jump on a foldable table after two drinks. Though as you turned your head, you were met with the sight of people who you knew were far from that―though, they had their moments. Changbin and Jisung, stood near the head of the stairs, in the midst of an apprehensive affray of glares and seething words. They looked tense, yet Changbin still stumbled back when Jisung gave him a harsh shove, and then another, and another. You weren’t in the right sober frame of mind to stick to acknowledge the unspoken deal to not interact with Jisung. Instead, you were tipsy and figured Jisung was too far gone ― you’d never known him to be angry or violent, maybe he truly had been drowning himself in booze to forget his words to you. Maybe that’s why they were arguing, Changbin wanted him to stop drinking. Pushing yourself from the wall with a newly gained sense of sobriety, you made your way to the second floor to intervene before things could blow out of proportion. 

“Knock it off, ‘Sung,” you'd spoken, standing in front of Changbin and gently pushing Jisung away. 

“It’s no use, Y/N, he’ll never change,” Changbin snided. Jisung scoffed. 

“Changbin, stop.” 

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you. How far has your advice gotten me, Changbin? Look how fucked up everything got!” What was going on? Your eyebrows were furrowed in confusion. Jisung’s dark eyes, glossed over with either tears or a drunken haze, trailed from Changbin to you, a bitter smile on his face. “And you, I don’t need you to constantly hover around. God, you act like my mother or something, it’s suffocating!” Words couldn’t pass your lips as you struggled to wrap your head around the situation at hand, “you know- you know how often I drink without you babying me? In fact, tonight was going perfectly fine until this fuckwit,” he gestured at Changbin angrily, the older scowling, “came along. It’s not the alcohol you need to keep me away from, it’s you!” 

It felt as if everything paused in that moment. The music no longer vibrated in your chest,  you couldn’t hear the cars moving around outside as people joined and left the party. All you could hear was Jisung’s words echoing in your ears, and all you could see was every time you had taken him home from a party, every painkiller and glass of water you set out for him. You had wasted so much time on a boy who couldn’t give a shit about you, and for what? Were you even friends? There was a lot you wanted to say, but what was the point? He wouldn’t listen, he’d continue to yell at you for trying to tell him otherwise, trying to talk him into something he’s not. As tears glossed your eyes, you turned away from Jisung and rapidly made your way down the stairs. The two males remained in their spots, the regret settling in Jisung’s chest as the gap between the two of you extended. An even heavier weight tugged on his already cracked heart―as if it had dropped from his chest to his stomach. It was a stupid plan, one he hadn’t thought through in the slightest, and a small part of him hoped that would play in his favour. Everything he spat was a damn lie, everything he pretended to feel was a fabrication. Everything was an excuse to stop himself from being in love with his best friend―you knew him better than anyone else, you knew what he was like when he was drunk and yet it still worked. That overwhelming sensation that came over him when tears glazed your eyes, one that made him want to give up the stupid plan, tell you “hey, it was a stupid dare! I’m sober!” But he couldn’t put this stupidity on anyone else. He won’t have to see you again after causing you so much pain, right? Please God, let him be right. 

It was often in the inebriated moments of his life that Jisung worried about whether he was being too candid with what he was saying, consequently saying the wrong thing. And yet, in the most sober mindset in a while, he’d managed to find the perfect words to do exactly that. He couldn’t quelm the guilt in his chest―what a stupid fucking plan. 

Somehow, much to his horror, Jisung had managed to tangle himself in an even more intricate web of lies, starting as soon as he caved on his plan of ‘hating you’. Rather than allowing the distance to grow, watch you fizzle into an imperceptible face in the crowd as his heart finally unravelled from around you, his slim body had stood in front of your dorm to pretend he couldn’t remember anything. You believed him with hesitance, as far as he knew, and Jisung spent another night drinking his guilt away. The following week, Jisung started to embrace his unravelling life―it felt as if Yeah Right by Joji was constantly playing as he lived deceptively. His plans to get over you had gone from spouting absolute bull shit in your face to spouting absolute bull shit to someone else; namely, Gaeun. Truthfully, he knew nothing about her beyond her partying habits ― he met her at one of many parties, let her dance all over him as she stared at some other guy who was clearly uninterested, and agreed to have the title of her boyfriend. He had told himself it was under the guise of getting over you, pretending she was the true recipient of the immense love that bloomed for your taking. Though, he still wasn’t sure if he believed that. He didn’t like Gaeun―not in the way a boyfriend would, at least―but it was better than being alone. Jisung was getting sick of being alone, and, for once in his life, no drink could quelm the dissatisfaction of being quite distressingly destitute. 

When Jisung had told you of his relationship with Gaeun, you were taken aback. He talked about her with an admiration that you were almost unfamiliar with, one you would never expect to hear from Jisung. Especially considering he’d never mentioned her before, yet seemed to be so desperately infatuated. She shone like the sun, as far as he was concerned, the best thing since sliced bread. You knew of Gaeun―she was nice, that was it. There was an essence of certainty in your soul that she was a lovely person, but something about her and Jisung was just… off. It was a match that would seemingly make sense on paper ― two fun-loving, regular partygoers in a spontaneous and exuberant relationship ― but it was so wrong in person. It wasn’t something you’d been exposed to up close, just in passing and at the occasional get-together Somi had convinced you to attend on a mopey Friday night. There was that part of you that entirely denied the relationship altogether―it was a lie, just like everything else had been telling you recently, right? First he tells you he loves you, then he hates you, then he’s in a relationship with some unmentioned girl he’s been pining after for months? It was off. But people act bizarre when they’re drunk, don’t they? You weren’t so sure anymore. 

It wasn’t the break up that surprised you, it was Jisung’s reaction. He’d stumbled over to your place, alcohol wafting off his breath as he slurred something along the lines of “she’s left me, she’s joined them” before making his way into the living room. As far as you could coax from him, between the begs for him to stop drinking and dumping empty bottles in your lounge room, Gaeun had approached Jisung with a revenge plot. When all was said and done, when she had finally got what she wanted, she blurted the plan to Jisung with a promise that it was ‘nothing personal’. Gaeun never truly liked him, sure he was cute, but she just wanted someone to pay attention to her. Someone to fill that void her ex-boyfriend―that guy she always stared at while with Jisung, the one who never seemed interested―had left, before he fell victim to her plot and came back to her. Then everything would be back to normal, right? Jisung didn’t care about that, he was doing the same in a way. They were in ‘love’ for the wrong reasons, and he was almost certain Gaeun knew that when Jisung agreed to date her―he didn’t have to say it, but the way he radiated around you was almost obnoxiously clear. Maybe that’s why she chose him, she knew he wouldn’t take it personal. Jisung didn’t care about her reasoning, honestly, that wasn’t what had him downing alcohol to conceal his stress and sorrows. Instead, it was the crushing feeling he felt from the universe, the one that screamed “now you have to tell the truth” that was haunting him. It left him shit faced on your couch, vision blurring as tears welled up in his eyes. Somehow, despite everything he had done, Jisung knew the worst was yet to come. 

“She never loved me, did she?” he chuckled bitterly from his spot on the couch. Uncertain of how to respond, you stared at him pitifully. His soft brown eyes, glistening under the reflection of the flickering lamp rose to meet your own, “do you love me, Y/N?” 

“W-what?” 

Jisung stumbled to his feet. He had thought this was the right thing to do, to tell the truth, but instead it just made him feel even worse about deceiving you for so damn long, “have you ever loved me?” 

“Of course I do, Ji. You’re my best friend.” 

“I-I mean as more than that,” a thick silence clouded the air, “please,” he uttered in a broken voice. A sigh was caught in your throat as your lungs constricted; you felt a sense of déjà vu, everything was happening again―everything was going to end up as shitty as last time. 

“Jisung, you’re drunk, you’re not thinking straight.” 

Gosh, Jisung had never spoken with such anguish in his life, “when you’re drunk you think honestly.” 

“No you don’t!” you burst, startling the boy as a cluster of tears covered your eyes, “the last time you were drunk you told me to stay away from you, that I suffocated you. So what the fuck is it, Jisung?” The considerable silence hung heavily in the air, laying against your chest in a way that had you almost struggling to breathe, gasping for breath as you attempted to hold onto some grip of reality. You sniffled gently, “I can’t keep running in circles with you. I can’t keep doing this.” 

The two of you had argued before, you’d been friends for a notable period after all, but it had never left you this way. Neither of you had ever been stunned into silence by the stinging reality of the other’s words, nor had you pleaded for the other’s understanding with a sense of almost embarrassing desperation. But your minor squabbles and bickering never had earth-shattering revelations; there were never any consequences until now. That was the difference. 

“I love you, Y/N. You know that, don’t you?” he blubbered, almost pleading that you confirm his beliefs. 

“No,” it came out softly, uttered with hesitance, “I don’t.” 

There was more you needed to say, more about the unrelenting love you had held for such a long time, but you no longer knew how to word it. It felt as if none of it even mattered anymore, as if you waited until you were an adult to fix a toy you had broken as a child―what was the point? 

“I love you, Jisung,” there was something in his eyes that changed, almost lit up at the revelation that you truly did feel the same. Yet, at the same time, it seemed as if something shifted in his head. It felt as if he knew there was no salvaging this relationship, he had tugged you beyond the brink of extinction. You struggled to keep looking in his eyes―that look, that bright and almost hopeful look, god it killed you, “but I can’t be with you if you can’t let yourself feel the same.” 

If Han Jisung was still pursuing the plan to push you away, he had succeeded. No, he certainly wasn’t over you―truthfully, he never thought he could be―but you had faded significantly. You were a slightly blurred face in some of his best memories, the hesitant suppression of a smile if eyes ever met. You were no longer the one he was in love with, his best friend, the person to take care of him when he was drunk―and Changbin still refused to uphold that position. Instead, you were a has-been. Once, you were his best friend. Once, you were constantly left to take care of him in his inebriated state. Once―no, still―you were the one he fell tempestuously in love with. Now, you faded from him as if you were a reverse polaroid picture. That defectless, perfect image of you by his side with a smile of genuine happiness, radiating with the potential to bloom into something even more beautiful. Even so, the contingency withered. It crumbled at his fingertips, slipping from his grasps as he continued to spiral deeper into his feelings. 

When he thought of love prior to his experience, Jisung believed it was something almost indescribable―that belief he continues to maintain―and the heartbreak that often followed was just as puzzling. Questions of what went wrong, what should have been said sooner, why did it end up this way―he didn’t question it one bit. He knew the answers, they lied in his questionable and remorseful actions, the ones he regretted as soon as he formulated a plan to execute them. He was confident he could minimise it to less words than necessary, exclude the pivotal details and self-judgement of every time he overtly fucked up―he knew exactly what went wrong. By the time he felt compelled to re-offer the truth, he had so inexplicably failed to acknowledge the consequences. 

As he brought the glass bottle to his lips, the male graciously allowed the alcohol to burn his throat, as if it would override his emotional pain he felt from the aftermath of his bitter-tasting decisions. Han Jisung was just too late. 

[dont-call-me-halbae]

OK. I took all courage I have to write theory – or more like my story based on MV we have from ONF.

It will be looong journey.

Let’s start!

ON/OFF

All right. We know we have some post-apocalyptic world, reference to space journeys, spaceship interior and seven androids with barcodes on their necks. They live in desolate world but happily, playing and everything.

Hyojin has red hair – it’s Red Hyojin (ok, here starts my devil-red-hyojin theory :D)

It is hard to say if they are on Earth because of the environment and trees but on other hand it could be big spaceship with all facilities like cinema for people (e. g. Star Trek Yorktown) but all the people are gone, maybe they didn’t survive the environment, recycling devices could be broken, oxygen could be gone etc. And what could also happen is that the battery of tracking system could be gone and the airship with androids is long lost somewhere in the space. They want to get on Earth but can’t. And who knows what state Earth is, we have reference here on the meteorite.

But Laun somehow gets the lithium battery, activates the device and 1) they are found by survivors of Earth of their present time (post-apocalypse). 2) got enough energy to come back in time by themselves 3) combination – somehow contacted some people of the past to help them with energy supply and they got into past time (before apocalypse).

Maybe Laun inserted not only the battery but also his android energy, so he is down lying after that?).

Complete

This is quite nice. Androids are enjoying their life on Earth but the apocalypse is coming closer. The meteorites start to fall down. They are forced to leave Earth back to their starship.

We must love

Once you taste something, you can’t get over it. Laun is caught up in memories and feelings from Earth (watching whale in the screen, wanting to live somewhere where everything is real, not in the space). So he transports himself back in time before the whole apocalypse happens.

On one hand I want to believe that he lost his memories (Lyrics: “Did we lose our memories? In our past or in our future or maybe a different world?”) as he painfully holds his head but somehow some pieces came back to him (causing crying?).

Our six boys of course went to look for him. That means that they have to search the universe and timeline, in their physical form or as an anagram (Wyatt). MK is always good with computers, Yuto is carefully watching the time for their return so they will not cause any time-damages. But something still happened. 1) time damage (J-us with the hands up – idk what guard or who forced him but still, the screen does not lie) 2) I think that they located the wrong Laun in the Universe 01. The non-android Laun (he doesn’t have the barcode on the neck when he was reading the book on the station) and E-tion understands it. So they got into wrong universe.

I chose for the screenshots another moments: Wyatt riding bike (he always goes on bike or car, I think that they have limited time-watches so he must use time-driving-mashine). Then we have the motive of train for the first time? Train will be repeatedly used.

And the final scene, Hyojin and Laun’s argument. It doesn’t fit that they found him and then let him go. I think it maybe happened even before the meteorite shower, somewhere between Complete and We must love. I’m just making this up, don’t take me seriously :D But they knew what’s gonna happen with the meteorites so he wanted to turn back time and save the world or maybe live comfortable life but Hyojin didn’t want to damage the timeline.

What is sure: Real Laun is lost; human Laun is reading his books. Bye.

Why

Now it’s gonna be a bit messy (I feel like I captured every scene of the MV and it’s still not enough).

Our androids are now in universe 01. And skunk Hyojin made his appearance.

Apocalypse is coming. Our boys, at first together, now divided. It is mostly psychological reason. Red Hyojin as the leader of androids failed, because of departure of Laun and everything in We must love. He wants to do everything now to save the world and get things back to its order, but it is too late. We see how Wyatt runs with others and then he is alone, he is disappointed in humanity and everyone. The same as E-tion, as we see his last moments with Yuto and then Yuto goes his own way and E-tion is all alone.

With their messing up with time, the technology of the world has greatly advanced (and who knows how many years has passed). I feel like they found a way how to save (or destroy) the world and it is connected to the big cube (Pandora’s box). It is super-duper technology.

Yuto is focused on finding the activating key of the box and using illegal means. MK is looking for it virtually. Wyatt does not believe the world and society could be saved so even when he obtained the key somehow, he throws it away. He feels like the life and androids have no future. E-Tion applied for a detective position and his mission is to get Yuto but he accidentally founds the cube (because Yuto is searching for it too). They are like cat and mouse. Red Hyojin is looking for a way how to get his team back, but someone is in his shadow…

And we have here my skunk Hyojin (don’t get me wrong, I LOVE his red colour but… you will get it later). This Hyojin is not from the same universe. He came from different time and space (BB universe)

Ok, I don’t know how Wyatt got imprisoned in the glass foggy thing, maybe Yuto did it to obtain the info about the key he lost or it was skunk Hyojin? J-Us? Or it is not prison but some androids recovering device – IDK. Skunk Hyojin make his appearance and J-Us got there too. He tell J-Us about where he came from and what is needed to be done to put everything normal again. He does not believe it, confronting skunk Hyojin, aiming on him his gun. But Hyojin has it’s back-up – mask people (remember, mask people!) and he escapes.

Now, MK somehow manage to control the cube. I don’t know what his motive is, but it seems like he wanted to destruct to world the whole time. Like, in We must love – it is starting with MK and meteorites. The first meteorite in Complete showed up with MK in the frame. Or it is just a coincidence and they got to control the cube which resonates with all androids of ONF but it is too late and the meteorites couldn’t be stopped and the world is destroyed.

Yuto is leaving somewhere, Wyatt is all healthy and shining in the nature, E-Tion is broken and leaves the planet.

In the end we see flashback of skunk Hyojin and his happy memory with J-Us. I think it is his flashback from BB universe where he came from. But skunk Hyojin couldn’t save this world and uses the power of the cube to come back to his right universe while he encounters his future him telling him so.

Specially captured: MK using the VR technology as used by Wyatt in BB, time-space door (as in New World, or Sukhumvit swimming time-road or BB time road), cube and skunk Hyojin – I think this is the cube from skunk Hyojin universe (BB) and he used it to get into Universe 01

Sukhumvit swimming

You can say it is not in the ONFverse but I think it matches everything quite well.

After many many years after the apocalypse, we see how individually ONF lives. Wyatt is making money by driving space-time tuk-tuk (remade from his super-duper time-bike). Yuto is living as a party drug man. E-tion left the planet and lives on the moon with his blue flower (ok, it is rose not orchid as in WHY MV) all alone. MK is still hacker, no change. J-Us took the advices from skunk-Hyojin seriously. As he guards the ruins of the city that was destroyed, he also guards the time and search for Red Hyojin in colab with masked men of skunk Hyojin (different mask, same group of followers).

Because Red Hyojin wants to manipulate time again and save everything. Skunk Hyojin told J-Us that only with his death everything can turn normal.

We see especially red cube as in WHY MV and also time clock, that will be shown in BB too. I think that how the camera captures the clock, from side to up – is seems like we go further in time. That’s why I think Sukhumvit timeline is far in the future. There are also barcoded corpses of other androids that did not survive the apocalypse, we see flashback of post-apocalyptic world, destroyed town but not the ruins yet… In BB, the clock will be captured from top to side, as we go back in time.

Ok. So what is happening? Masked people detected Hyojin (in train! And Yuto is also partying in the train with same masked people, maybe – they drugged him to discover Hyojin position, or – Yuto is already dead and the train has different purpose). The guard of ruins, time and skunk Hyojin follower goes to him to kill him. There is moment where it seems like Hyojin was first to kill J-Us. At that moment, around Wyatt falls meteorite; E-tion cries when looking at black Earth from far, in his eyes is yellow flash looking as another meteor falling. He is sad that it’s the end of everything.

But J-Us was faster and kills Hyojin. Yeah. It is hard, because Red Hyojin and J-Us were friends, they went through many hardships, but still. Only death of red hair can save the time.

After Hyojin’s death, J-Us cries. Around J-Us are bodies of ONF members, maybe it means sacrifices that were made and that it is all over. But then, the time starts to reverse, ruins are disappearing and J-Us looks up surprised to see that really it is happening.

Similarly, E-tion is surprised when colourful fireworks show up – it’s hope, it is the result of BB happening.

Twice in the MV we can see barcodes falling, that could mean the end of androids, life of sacrificed androids or ONF’s life through all dimension? IDK.

Beautiful beautiful

So. The first danger was rid of. Universe 01 J-Us killed Red Hyojin. Now, in the BB universe, the team of androids can save the time, the world and everything.

According to what the big screen tells us: “…machines and become the humanoid. Time warp is possible but the timeline has messed by past time travels and classified as…”

What that mean? Seems like the humanoids are not common in the BB universe. So maybe 1) after Hyojin’s death the time reversed to this point 2) in the specific moment the dimensions split into two. I would say that it could happen right after ON/OFF or Complete; in one timeline – the team searches and Red Hyojin leads the team to failure; in the second timeline the team didn’t search for Laun but found different way how to live or maybe their dimension was already affected by the first dimension 01 disturbances.

But let’s continue.

We have train, light and bright, the celebration that it was this place where everything was saved; we have the team living comfortably. But they still have warrant on them and they help each other to escape the prison and fixing the time as it should be. Wyatt and his VR time-space riding car that helped skunk Hyojin, MK hacking so the police won’t be able to track them and the screen won’t show them, J-Us escaping with the help of Hyojin from prison and jumping on their ship. E-tion using his time-watches to fix small occurances. Hyojin and E-tion drink while the cube is activated. We see the names of previous three songs.

And in the end, they together control the cube and protect in time the Earth from meteorites that would turn into rainbow puff (the same as E-tion saw in Sukhumvit).

The world is saved!!!! THEY DONE IT!!!

(the world should be more grateful to them, hehe)

Ok, I’m sorry that in order to my theory work I have to make red Hyojin the villain even though he was not the villain but his potential actions and existence was dangerous…

Or we can forget Sukhumvit and just say Hyojin dyed his hair and in the end they somehow worked the things together in the team, because in the moment of apocalypse they all turned time back from Why to BB. It is more compatible with New World, where everyone find his key and uses Pandora box to travel into different dimension. But why the hell would Wyatt throw his key then in Why? :DD Why? 

 I absolutely don’t think this could be right theory, even from 10%, and I never wrote theories on anything, but still I was quite into it when I wrote it!

And I can’t believe how this amount of nonsense came from me.

But whatever!

[writing-prompts-for-friends]

Notes on Robert McKee’s Story 33: The Principle of Antagonism

I had the hardest time trying to condense this section, so unfortunately this post will be almost entirely direct quotes from the text.

"The principle of antagonism: A protagonist and his story can only be as intellectually fascinating and emotionally compelling as the forces of antagonism make them."

McKee believes that the principle of antagonism is the most important and least understood precept in story design, and this is the primary reason screenplays and the films made from them fail.

"Human nature is fundamentally conservative. We never do more than we have to, expend any energy we don’t have to, take any risks we don’t have to, change if we don’t have to. Why should we? Why do anything the hard way if we can get what we want the easy way? (The “easy way” is, of course, idiosyncratic and subjective.) Therefore, what will cause a protagonist to become a fully realized, multidimensional, and deeply empathetic character? What will bring a dead screenplay to life? The answer to both questions lies on the negative side of the story.

The more powerful and complex the forces of antagonism opposing the character, the more completely realized character and story must become. “Forces of antagonism” doesn’t necessarily refer to a specific antagonist or villain. In appropriate genres arch-villains, like the Terminator, are a delight, but by “forces of antagonism,” we mean the sum total of all forces that oppose the character’s will and desire.

If we study a protagonist at the moment of the Inciting Incident and weigh the sum of his willpower along with his intellectual, emotional, social, and physical capacities against the total forces of antagonism from within his humanity, plus his personal conflicts, antagonistic institutions, and environment, we should see clearly that he’s an underdog. He has a chance to achieve what he wants—but only a chance. Although conflict from one aspect of his life may seem solvable, the totality of all levels should seem overwhelming as he begins his quest.

We pour energy into the negative side of a story not only to bring the protagonist and other characters to full realization—roles to challenge and attract the world’s finest actors—but to take the story itself to the end of the line, to a brilliant and satisfying climax."

To make your protagonist stand out even more, he needs to have a good antagonist that not only pushes him to the very brink of his ability and willpower, but also acts as a fine foil.

Take Story and Character to the End of the Line

“Does your story contain negative forces of such power that the positive side must gain surpassing quality? Below is a technique to guide your self-critique and answer that critical question.

Begin by identifying the primary value at stake in your story. For example, Justice. Generally, the protagonist will represent the positive charge of this value; the forces of antagonism, the negative. Life, however, is subtle and complex, rarely a case of yes/no, good/evil, right/wrong. There are degrees of negativity.

First, the Contradictory value, the direct opposite of the positive. In this case, Injustice. Laws have been broken.

Between the Positive value and its Contradictor, however, is the Contrary: a situation that’s somewhat negative but not fully the opposite. The Contrary of justice is unfairness, a situation that’s negative but not necessarily illegal: nepotism, racism, bureaucratic delay, bias, inequities of all kinds.

Perpetrators of unfairness may not break the law, but they’re neither just nor fair.

The Contradictory, however, is not the limit of human experience. At the end of the line waits the Negation of Negation, a force of antagonism that’s doubly negative.

Our subject is life, not arithmetic. In life two negatives don’t make a positive. In English double negatives are ungrammatical, but Italian uses double and even triple negatives so that a statement feels like its meaning. In anguish an Italian might say, “Non ho niente mia!” (I don’t have nothing never!). Italians know life. Double negatives turn positive only in math and formal logic. In life things just get worse and worse and worse.

A story that progresses to the limit of human experience in depth and breadth of conflict must move through a pattern that includes the Contrary, the Contradictory, and the Negation of Negation.

(The positive mirror image of this negative declension runs from Good to Better to Best to Perfect. But for mysterious reasons, working with this progression is of no help to the storyteller.)

Negation of the Negation means a compound negative in which a life situation turns not just quantitatively but qualitatively worse. The Negation of the Negation is at the limit of the dark powers of human nature. In terms of justice, this state is tyranny. Or, in a phrase that applies to personal as well as social politics: “Might Makes Right.”

Consider TV detective series: Do they go to the limit? The protagonists of Spenser: For Hire, Quincy, Colombo, and Murder, She Wrote represent justice and struggle to preserve this ideal. First, they face unfairness: Bureaucrats won’t let Quincy do the autopsy, a politician pulls strings to get Columbo off the case, Spenser’s client lies to him. After struggling through gaps of expectation powered by forces of unfairness, the cop discovers true injustice: A crime has been committed. He defeats these forces and restores society to justice. The forces of antagonism in most crime dramas rarely reach beyond the Contradictory.

Compare this pattern to MISSING, a fact-based film about American Ed Horman (Jack Lemmon), who searched Chile for a son who disappeared during a coup d’etat. In Act One he meets unfairness: The U.S. ambassador (Richard Venture) feeds him half-truths, hoping to dissuade his search. But Horman preserves. At the Act Two Climax he uncovers a grievous injustice: The junta murdered his son… with the complicity of the U.S. State Department and the CIA. Horman then tries to right this wrong, but in Act Three he reaches the end of the line—persecution without hope of retribution.

Chile is in the grip of tyranny. The generals can make illegal on Tuesday what you did legally on Monday, arrest you for it on Wednesday, execute you on Thursday, and make it legal again Friday morning. Justice does not exist; the tyrant makes it up at his whim. MISSING is a searching revelation of the final limits of injustice… with irony: Although Horman couldn’t indict the tyrants in Chile, he exposed them on screen in front of the world—which may be a sweeter kind of justice. 

The principle of the Negation of the Negation applies not only to the tragic but to the comic. The comic world is a chaotic, wild place where actions must go to the limit. If not, the laugh falls flat. Even the light entertainment of Fred Astaire/Ginger Rogers films touched the end of the line. They turned on the value of truth as Fred Astaire traditionally played a character suffering form self-deception, telling himself he was in love with the glitzy girl when we knew that his heart really belong to Ginger.”

In Summary

“Fine writers have always understood that opposite values are not the limit of human experience. If a story stops at the Contradictory value, or worse, the Contrary, it echoes the hundreds of mediocrities we suffer every year. For a story that is simply above love/hate, truth/lie, freedom/slavery, courage/cowardice, and the like is almost certain to be trivial. If a story does not reach the Negation of the Negation, it may strike the audience as satisfying--but never brilliant, never sublime.

All other factors of talent, craft, and knowledge being equal, greatness is found in the writer's treatment of the negative side.

If your story seems unsatisfying and lacking in some way, tools are needed to penetrate its confusions and perceive its flaws. When a story is weak, the inevitable cause is that its forces of antagonism are weak. Rather than spending your creativity trying to invent likable, attractive aspects of protagonist and world, build the negative side to create a chain reaction that pays off naturally and honestly on the positive dimensions.

The first step is to question the values at stake and their progression. What are the positive values? What is the preeminent and turns the Story Climax? Do the forces of antagonism explore all shades of negativity? Do they reach the power of the Negation of the Negation at some point?

Generally, progressions run from the Positive to the Contrary in Act One, to the Contradictory in later acts, and finally to the Negation of the Negation in the last act, either ending tragically or going back to the Positive with a profound difference. BIG, on the other hand, leaps to the Negation of the Negation, then illuminates all degrees of immaturity. CASABLANCA is even more radical. It opens at the Negation of the Negation with Rick living in fascist tyranny, suffering self-hatred and self-deception, then works to a positive climax for all three values. Anything is possible, but the end of the line must be reached.”

McKee also breaks down what the positive, negative, contrary, and negation of negation are for many more common values such as love, loyalty, greed, courage, intelligence, etc. But that would make this post entirely too long. I definitely invite you to get this book and check them out yourself. 

I found this section incredibly helpful to me. Until now I've always thought of conflict in terms of "good vs. bad" and...not much more than that. I had never contemplated the Contrary, let alone the Negation of the Negation. If I can manage to pull off a conflict of that level, I think I might have a really good story on my hands! This has helped me to shape my antagonistic forces and plot. I hope it helps you too!

Source: McKee, Robert. Story: Substance, Structure, Style, and the Principles of Screenwriting. York: Methuen, 1998. Print