Unnecessarily Complex Fit

Cringetober 2023

Do you know the Maleurous? What are your thoughts on each of them?

I am aware of the Maleurous. Honestly, with all of my screw-ups, including that time I forced my will on Fiamme, I am wildly surprised they didn't shunt me into that catagory myself. There's also the matter of being the treasurer of the local evil union, but that's not important right now.

What was I talking about? The Maleurous, yes.

I suppose I ought to iron out my thoughts, I've only recently met two of them so most of this is just surface-level evaluations.

Sinnocence: That poor creature. I don't' know what sick soul made them all that way--I have some theories, some accusations to be levied against a certain Empire in Azaveyr for that tacky appearance alone, but they're nothing more than baseless accusations--but the sheer fact they were a threat to both Paladins and Doomknights alike made them a force to be reckoned with. I can only think that an attempt to combine Destiny and Doom Spirits/Weapons was an attempt at making an Exalted Weapon, but all it made was a mess. Actually, on that note, there's one other person I know who would do such a thing, but it's not right of me to accuse her of things when she's not here to defend herself.

Mr. Nameless: He... wasn't the first toy I've seen animated with human souls, but it doesn't get easier. Let's hope no one looks too close at their commemorative plushies. His sheer magical power, even as a single soul bound to a toy, was fantastic. The sheer scale and control are greater even than some greater mages and wizards. I'd have loved to have seen the spellwork in action. Was it purely a multilayered illusion spell or was it a large scale transmutative spell? I could study the remnants but that's not as good as the first hand spell.

*Ahem.* Heard third-hand through Artix that Sally is still upset. Maybe I should send her something to try and cheer her up. Honestly, I don't know enough about Nameless--Twinkles wasn't it?--to comment on him specifically, another experiment gone wrong, probably of a necromancer. A lot of villains are born from such carelessness.

Voyna: I cannot put everything on her, but the socio-economic and environmental damage the so-called "Angel of Azaveyr" caused by hunting dragons to extinction in Azaveyr and forcing the survivors to flee overseas here to Green Guard (Battleonia), has caused lasting chaos to the many native species of dragons living here. She's caused so much grief. I'm not just saying this because of my ties to the Dragon Priestesses and my ties to the elementals. Seriously. In any other context I might actually applaud her power and tenacity, but she's inconvenienced me so she has to go.

Lock and Key: CYSERO THE BAG OF HOLDING DEVELOPED A PERSONALITY AND FEELINGS AGAIN! (That, probably isn't fair of me, seriously good for you guys, I'm very proud of you, please stop stealing my relics).

MyalOS: An Actual DRAGONOID????? IN THIS ERA????? I am literally so hype about this I might die, think of the things they could teach us, the things they've seen and done--They have memory issues? Oh, yes, I suppose that does follow. Damaged and all. They're still a living legend from another world, I can't not get excited about them. I would have killed to have explored their ruined mecha. Oh, the things they've seen and done. The things we could have learned.

They overpowered the Avatars you say?

What...like that's hard?

I wonder if I could improve the universal controls... but I'd have to ask Cysero's permission first, it'd be impolite otherwise. Oh, where was I? right, right, the fish is next.

Remthalas: I don't care much for Remthalas. I pity him. Being beholden to a higher power, I get it. Been there, done that, t-shirts are ordered but on delay. It sucks. But, really, when you knock on the Devil's door, he'll eventually open it for you. Just don't drag the hero down with you, if you can.

Notha: Notha. Notha Ly'Ehr. What to say about the First and Final Maleurous? Brilliant and dangerous in equal measure. Who trusted you with an orbital nuke? Ah I can't be too harsh, you're really an interesting person. Cloning huh? I can't believe humans have finally reached that point. Will extending your life like that really grant you the answer you're chasing? The real answer. How much time is enough? Does that answer mean anything if you can't keep and protect what you want? What's really your end goal? You want to be free, but do you even know what that freedom means for yourself?

I guess I can't judge too hard, it took me literally thousands of years to get where you kids are, so kudos!

Ah, this wasn't very informative more than just me complaining about them, wasn't it? Hope that clarifies things.

Hey!! I'm obsessed with your soulmates swap aus, really i love them they're so good i can't even explain 😭

Could i ask you one with kid but no one can really see they exchanged bodies 'cause they are literally the same? Like y/n has the same character as kid so they seems literally the same as always and it's quite a problem.

Thank you if you do, have a nice day 💕

helloo anon my love! ❤ i'm so so glad you like them! i'm sorry i took long, by the way! but here it is, and i hope you like it! have a nice day ❤

— What are you looking at? — you snapped at someone at the bar. That person was looking at you for you don’t even know how long.

— (Y/N), calm down. It’s your birthday, don’t stress trying to fight again. — one of your friends asked, holding your arm. — Just leave it.

You sighed, taking a sip of your drink. It was easy for you to get irritated and start a fight, you had quite a temper, and honestly, you don’t know how your friends put up with you. The only reason why you didn’t get into more fights, it was because of them.

— I swear, your soulmate better be someone calm. — another friend giggled. — Imagine if they have that temper.

— It’d be a chaos. — you laughed, forgetting about the fight you almost started before. — But I guess the world couldn’t handle a couple like that. I hope they’re level headed.

It was late when you went back home, and you fell asleep right after, hoping you wouldn’t have a hangover the next morning.

Your peaceful slumber got interrupted with a loud bang on the door. Since when your roommate got so aggressive? You barely had time to open your eyes, and realize you were sitting on a chair, in front of a desk, in a room that wasn’t yours. It smelled like oil and metal. What an awful time to switch bodies with your soulmate.

You knew it’d happen eventually, but it wasn’t something you looked forward to, unlike your friends who acted as if it was such an event.

— Kid, the ship just docked. — someone said. — We’ll go get some supplies and head to a bar.

— Go away! — you screamed, still in shock while looking at that body which obviously wasn’t yours.

The man had scars on his chest and right arm, while apparently he didn’t have his left arm, replaced with a heavy mechanical one. You looked at the long coat over your shoulder, the vest and his pants and couldn’t help laughing at his fashion taste. How tacky.

— What a clown. — you whispered to yourself, still laughing. — Out of all people, this is my soulmate? How lucky…

You got up and headed to a bathroom, maybe when you washed your face and actually felt awake, you could find a solution to switch back and go home. Looking at the broken and dirty mirror, your soulmate was very attractive. He had red hair, no eyebrows, a scar on the left side of his face, and goggles. He’s someone you’d look at if you saw him at a bar.

— Now, how do I find him? — you asked yourself. — Well, if he’s in my body, I’ll call my house. I’m sure there’s a den den mushi here somewhere.

When you left the bathroom, you tried to find the transponder snail. It took a while, walking from room to room, but you finally spotted one in what seemed to be the captain’s bedroom. You started calling your house, hoping that your soulmate would answer.

— What?! — the man answered. — If you’re the person who is in my body, you better find a way to switch back.

— Look, I’m not happy with this situation either. I want to go back to my body, so what do we do now?

He sighed, obviously as annoyed as you were.

— I’m the captain of this ship, so you tell my crew to come here to your island so we can switch back. Don’t let people know what’s going on, I don’t want anyone to know about that. I have a damn reputation.

— Are you even that relevant? — you laughed.

— Watch it, just because you’re my soulmate it doesn’t mean you can talk to me like that.

You rolled your eyes, hanging up before replying. First, you went to the kitchen, feeling thirsty. Luckily they had some beer. You took one, and soon enough, you found one of the crew members that stayed on the ship. You demanded to go to your island quick.

— We need to go there. It’s important, and don’t ask any questions, I’ll be working on something or whatever.

You went back to Kid’s workshop, slamming the door behind you. Being in another body was annoying. You didn't know who this person was, you were far from home, and his mechanical arm was so heavy it was bothering you.

When a tall blonde man wearing a mask knocked on the door, opening it right after, you just told him to go away, threatening to throw something at him if he didn’t leave. After that, everyone left you alone.

The only time when anyone knocked on the door after that, was the next morning, when someone said they arrived at the destination.

Finally!

— I’ll be back soon. I don’t want neither of you following me around, got it? — you asked and the crew nodded.

You left the ship, going towards your house. And when the door opened you saw your figure, which was very weird.

— Took you long enough! — he said with a frown. — How do we switch back now?

— I should’ve know you don’t understand about soulmates. — you sighed. — We need to kiss.

— Is that all? — he seemed surprised, thinking it was too easy to be true. — Then let’s kiss now!

— It’s not a simple kiss, you fool. It’s a kiss when we’re in love, which it’s probably not going to happen, so we need to figure something out.

Kid yelled, complained, cussed, and finally accepted how things really were. You two tried to talk without bickering on each other, trying to think of another solution. And after a long discussion, with you yelling at him, both decided that you needed to stay with him on the Victoria Punk until you could switch back.

The crew kept whispering, curious about who was that small person that their Captain just brought to the ship. Maybe an affair? A new member or an ally? No one dared to ask him directly, though, especially since he was in a bad mood.

Kid still didn’t want the crew to know, even though Killer was smart enough and could probably help. You spent many times together at his workshop, seeing him work while you complained you were bored. At night, you two agreed that sleeping in his room would be the best. The red haired man let you keep the bed, saying he didn’t want his body to be sick or in pain, apparently. Whenever his mechanical arm got too heavy, he tried to ease the weight or help you take it off.

Eventually, you had longer conversations with him, seeing you two had a lot in common, surprisingly.

The showers were a little weird, especially during the first few times, when he kept saying your body was very hot, making you feel flustered for the first time in your life. But after a while, it just felt normal.

It has been almost a month since you two met. The ship had docked and everyone was at a bar. A man was flirting with you, or well, with Kid, while thinking it was you. Indeed, you used to draw attention from people when you went out, and you forgot about that until a man was approaching Eustass, complimenting his beautiful looks.

Feeling annoyed, and perhaps even a little jealous thinking that other men wanted you, he got up from his sit and pulled you into a kiss. Of course, the crew had their eyes open. Who knew the mysterious person Kid brought was that straightforward, and who knew their captain would let someone steal a kiss from him.

The kiss wasn’t romantic or cute. It was full of passion and desire, it was unexpected and possessive, as if he was saying “you’re mine”. He bit your lip, and it felt like he was claiming you. Honestly, it was a good feeling, as if you’ve been waiting, without even knowing, for him to make this first move.

You felt butterflies, something you’ve never felt before.

When you opened your eyes, you saw his figure towering over you, and a grin that wouldn’t leave his face so soon. He pulled you closer, making it clear that you were his. He didn’t even ask, but your answer would be “yes” anyway.

— I can’t believe we finally switched back. — he laughed, flexing his arm. — I missed my body.

The crew gasped.

— Switch back? — Heat asked. — Wait, you were in (Y/N)’s body this whole time? And (Y/N) was in your body?

— I must say, I’m surprised. I couldn’t notice any difference. — Killer said. — You two are very alike.

At first, you two seemed offended until realizing the masked man was actually right. You two has the same personality, and it wasn’t what you expected your soulmate to be. Someone peaceful and quiet would be fun, but someone who could raise a little hell with you could be even better.

— You’re annoying sometimes, but I want you to sail with me anyway. — he said gently lifting your chin with his index finger, still with his signature smirk on his face.

Hop on the Wen Chao Haterade Express!

Hahah! I hope you weren’t expecting something about Tano and Kenobi right? Because I have thoughts that must be shared with others and you are all my unwilling victims. Can one be a willing victim? 

Episode 17: Wei Wuxian goes to the Ancient China Google School of Medicine

After Episode 16: Running and Crying; Now with Running and Crying In The Rain we left our hero sitting in a boat having an existential crisis because that’s what happens in boats in ancient China. Crises and crying. Nothing good happens in boats in Ancient Fantasy China. Wen Chao was probably born in a boat. 

Wen Ning is flawless and really strong for the local Woobie Badass and carries our 200 lbs of whoopass and Mommy issues to the crisis boat and Wei Wuxian with the promise that everyone back in Lotus Pier is drugged off their asses and will wake up with the same headache I have every morning when I remember the state of the world I’m living in.

There is no ibuprofen that can save you Wen Chao. I hope you suffer you unmitigated twat. I hope you trip on every loose board in Lotus Pier and break all your toes. I hope your hideously tacky and vicious little bloodsucking mosquito of a girlfriend lands face first into a pile of fire ants. I hope... 

Woah... I’m not even sure I hate Palpatine that much. Wow. Fire ants... damn. I need to calm down. 

Eh-hem. So When-Will-His-Face-Make-an-Expression Zhuli is very zen about the whole thing and I just don’t get his character. What is going on? Why is he all :| when he is serving the Wen Clan? He seems so annoyed by Wen Chao, which automatically makes him better than all the other Evil Wens, but he still goes around melting cores and killing Beloved Parental Figures and having respectful dialogue like he’s not the bag man for the WORST heir to a fantasy throne since Game of Thrones. I bet he and Joffrey when to some kind of evil royal boarding school together. Ramsay Bolton was probably there too.

Then we float on a boat of sadness and pick up Yanli, who is understandably sad and say goodbye to an old lady who I think is going to die off screen? Who are you? Where did you come from? Does Jiang Cheng need to avenge you too? 

The boat floats on until it transforms into a cool box carriage thing and My Perfect Son Who Gives Me Echo Vibes smuggles our beleaguered family into the earth kingdom Yiling which hold up! Isn’t that where Wei Wuxian is supposed to be like the Great and Terrible Yiling Patriarch? Where he did such horrible things like make a compass that detects ghosts and cool goth varsity flags that summon ghosts? I feel like this place is important and LOOK AT ALL THE TREES!!! *cries in Central Texan about trees* 

My Other Equally Perfect Son Who Does Not Deserve This Jiang Cheng is sick and feverish and Wei Wuxian decides this is the perfect time to get him a blinging black cape with red accents and I swear I am hearing the Imperial March in the background. The I-Do-Bad-Things-For-Reasons-I-Think-Are-Good-But-Are-Ultimately-Bad-And-My-Light-Side-Boyfriend-Gets-His-Heartbroken-Because-Of-It vibe is very strong.

Anyway, Dr Wen Qing Medicine Woman shows up and looks at her baby brother and understandably gives into that sweet innocent face because Wen Ning Has Done Nothing Wrong In His Life. AND WHY THE HELL IS HE THE GHOST GENERAL?? WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY PRECIOUS SON WEI WUXIAN??? DO I NEED JIANG CHENG TO STAB YOU AGAIN?

After some ancient Chinese medicine, which looks so much more pleasant than my last visit to the GP, The Radiant Goddess Wen Qing explains that Jiang Cheng has no golden core and that’s clearly bad but it isn’t until Jiang Cheng wakes up and tries to apparently suckerpunch Wei Wuxian with all his spiritual energy that we learn the truth.

Wen Zhuli is a Monster and He Hurt My Precious Child. Madam Yu energy intensifies.

So then Wei Wuxian basically badgers Wen Qing into letting him look at all her medical books and of we go into a studying monologue where time is measured in stubble and plates of uneaten food. Wen Qing is being very patient and gorgeous about the whole thing even though she knows there’s Nothing You Can Do Anakin Wei Wuxian. You Cannot Keep People From Dying Rebuild People’s Golden Cores After The Palm d’Or of Death Smacks Them. 

Then Wei Wuxian makes Yanli cry and he is on my List now because Yanli is Perfect and Flawless and none of you bastards deserve her, except you Wen Ning or possibly Meng Yao WHERE IS HE? HOW DID HE NOT DIE FROM BEING STABBED IN THE CHEST? QUI-GON JINN FELL OVER LIKE A SACK OF BAD POTATOES BUT MENG YAO IS JUST OUT THERE LOOKING FOR WORK WITH A BLEEDING CHEST WOUND?

Then Wei Wuxian mentions Lan Zhan and Yanli tells him “Listen, Asshole. ACheng is Sick and trapped in an acupuncture coma because he won’t sleep, I am ominously coughing and you have HIDEOUS stubble. Your Robot Bunny Boyfriend will just have to wait. We are the A plotline in this story, not your bromance with the reserved and gorgeous nerd in the back of the classroom who knows all the answers because he’s already finished the text book. Focus on my face and my tears you idiot. You made me cry!”

Wei Wuxian understandably feels bad, sleeps, shaves and then goes back to studying after Wen “I am so going to regret this in two episodes” Qing picks up her library and decides that someone with ACTUAL medical experience should be doing some research. 

Also... what is going on with those pots that Yanli and Wen Ning keep fanning? What is in those? Medicine? Ox bone soup? Poison I can give to Wen Chao?

After some more lovely shots of Yiling that REALLY make me want to hire their set designer to build my dream house, Wei Wuxian finds the wooden scroll book “How to Give Your Core To Your Adopted Brother Because You Have SO Much Guilt And Also Your Promised Your Adopted Father Figure You Would Take Care of Him And They Don’t Have Talk Therapy In Fantasy China Yet”. 

There is some dramatic sitting, some dramatic “Hell No I am not doing this” on Wen Qing’s part and lots of “No, really, you have to do this. I am totally okay sacrificing for the Jiangs because it’s REALLY going to make everything hurt so much worse later on when ACheng murders me to death on the edge of a cliff on Mustafar Quishan” 

Wen Qing is probably thinking of all the horrible ways this could go south and is trying to be An Adult when Wen Ning shows up and is pure and good and full of faith and devotion to Wei Wuxian and I think I need to send a clone extraction team to rescue my poor baby boy. 

Unable to withstand the purity of Wen Ning’s smile and because the script says she has to Wen Qing agrees and gives us some ominous stats and Wei Wuxian is cool with that because “It might work and if it doesn’t who cares? Wen Chao is going to show up at any minute to murder us and probably you and Wen Ning and then Lan Zhan will show up with his Guzheng (yes I did have to google that) Of Pretty Magical Death and then we’ll just have to wait for the next episode after that where everybody magically survives except all the people *I* like because that’s how these things go.”

WHEN DOES WEN CHAO DIE? HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE TO GET FROM LOTUS PIER TO YILING BECAUSE IT FEELS LIKE IT’S TAKING WAY TOO LONG AND I AM SO VERY WORRIED ABOUT YANLI’S COUGHING. WHAT IS THE STYGIAN TIGER AMULET AND WHEN DO WE GO BACK TO THE FUTURE?? 

WHEN DOES WEN CHAO DIE?????? 

The unmarked envelope is heavier than Michael expects.

He’s still getting used to having one hand and one claw, so it takes him some effort to get it open. When he does, there’s no paper in it. No long explanation he can roll his eyes at and read a thousand times over. He actually has to tip the envelope over.

A pair of dog tags spill out.

For a moment his mind shuts down. He knows even before he picks them up what’s on them, though his eyes don’t want to take in the information. He sits down hard on the bed, staring at the two tags on their long ball chain. He’s noticed Alex isn’t around, but why the hell would he be? After Michael couldn’t protect him, after he was so useless what point was there in sticking around. Roswell has never felt so claustrophobic. Now he knows where Alex is.

Alex is in the Air Force.

Michael grips the metal to his chest and for the first time since the hammer fell down, he lets himself weep.

He doesn’t think much when he hears about the military changing their dog tag rules.

Not until the envelope comes.

These ones are different, there’s a series of randomly generated numbers instead of the digits of Alex’s social security number. And now both the tags are surrounded by black rubber bumpers. He looks up the news immediately and tries not to be sick at the announcement that the first people who get these are the ones who are deploying.

Alex is good and smart, of course they want him on the front lines.

God, Alex is good and smart and so reckless. Michael feels sick to his stomach as he holds the tags in his hand. He can’t even look at them. He puts them in the drawer with the last ones and flees to the Pony, getting so shitfaced that he winds up being not only thrown out but also banned for a week. He staggers home and pours three bottles of acetone down his throat before he goes back to the drawer.

He runs his thumb over the dog tags before he loops the chain around his neck and falls asleep as close to Alex as the world will let him get.

The next set of tags arrive two years later.

The only change is Alex’s religion.

Apparently he’s a Jedi now.

Michael laughs.

“I need to borrow a shirt,” Alex admits, holding up the one that Michael has literally torn off him.

“Top drawer,” he says.

Alex rolls his eyes at the smile he flashes and pushes himself up. Michael enjoys the view as Alex does up his pants and goes over, opening the wrong drawer. The sharp lines on his golden skin go even sharper and Michael realizes with a dull thud of alarm that he’s opened the wrong drawer. He’s opened the drawer with his collection of Alex’s tags. Which wouldn’t be quite so creepy if he hadn’t made it so that each had their own built in box, carefully done so they wouldn’t tangle and he could see each of them.

They are naked and they have been inside each other a lot over the past few days, but they both have an out. This can just be sex. Amidst the chaos of his trailer, Alex’s dogtags are possibly the best organized, most maintained objects. Michael doesn’t get off the bed but he does push himself up as Alex stares down at his history—at their history—with an unreadable expression on his face. Michael finally gets up and reaches over, pulling out a t-shirt and holding it to him.

“Thanks,” he says. Michael has to resist yelling when he doesn’t reach for it and instead, brushes his fingers against the dog tags, “you kept these?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Michael says.

“I—“ Alex starts.

“I said don’t worry about it,” Michael says and closes the drawer when his hands are free. He doesn’t need Alex’s pity and he doesn’t want to talk about the fact that he’s kept the dog tags. He doesn’t want Alex to leave. “Here,” he says.

Alex finally takes the shirt.

He comes back two days later and then Michael can open the drawer again.

“Michael please,” Alex says, crouching in front of him.

Michael doesn’t remember. Not how he got on the floor, not why everything smells like the acetone bottles he can see everywhere. His hand is red and purple like it’s supposed to be but the skin is smooth. It smells like nail polish. Looking at Alex takes a moment for his eyes to focus and he tries to smile but it only makes the pain on Alex’s face go worse.

“Your family—“

Pain slices through him.

“My family’s dead,” he snarls.

“Isobel isn’t,” Alex tells him, his voice low and angry, “I’m not,” before Michael can respond, he gets up and goes into the drawer. Michael can barely think but he knows he’s not supposed to go in there. Before he can stop him, Alex comes back and loops the chain around his neck, tucking the tag into his shirt. It hangs over his heart like a brand, “you’re not either. Please remember that.”

“Why’d you send these to me?” He questions, pushing himself up.

“I was a coward,” Alex says and fuck him for saying it so calmly. Like he can look at his flaws and face them. “But I wanted you to know.”

“So I couldn’t look away,” Michael snaps.

It comes out like an accusation but Alex doesn’t take the bait. His head dips but he doesn’t snap back. Michael isn’t in any position to fight but hell if he doesn’t want to. The lack of pity in Alex’s eyes doesn’t help. He hates Alex for once again being mature and reasonable. Better than he could ever hope to be. Alex pushes himself to his feet, he’s good with the prosthetic now. Better than he was the last time Michael remembers seeing him.

“I don’t look away either,” he says, “that’s not what family does.”

“This isn’t Game of Thrones!” Michael yells after him.

He gives up trying to be upright after that and lays back on the floor. His hand is still tacky with polish, but there’s no acetone left. He doesn’t care about his already ruined shirt and closes his hands over the dog tags, pressing them into his skin.

Maybe some of Alex’s strength will seep into him via osmosis.

He can only hope

“Captain Manes?” The guard at the gate looks confused, “ID?”

Michael has a doctored ID which seems to pass first inspection, but then the guard looks down and he prays to every God he knows that he grabbed the right tags. The most recent ones. The guard’s lips curve into a faint smile.

“Jedi, that’s a good one,” he says.

“I thought so,” Michael says and they wave him through so he can go and un-kidnapp the real Alex Manes.

Hopefully before anyone figures it out.

Alex lifts his shirt off and stops, staring at the tags.

“How long—“

“Since you put them on me,” he says.

Alex kisses him until he’s dizzy and sure the tag is pressed between both of their skins. He doesn’t mind the thought of having Alex’s information branded onto him. No more than he minds the thought of his lips doing nothing else but finding new ways to kiss his skin. Alex dips below his collarbone and before Michael can whine at the loss of contact, he kisses the imprint the tags have dug into his skin.

There’s something that’s both chaste and hot as fuck about it and if not for Alex’s hands at the small of his back, he’s pretty sure he’d be jelly. Alex’s lips continue to trace the outline and then kiss down his abs and lower until Alex is on his knees in front of him. Michael opens his mouth but all that seems to come out is air as Alex opens his belt and caresses every new sliver of exposed skin with his mouth. Michael clutches the tags so hard it’s a miracle they don’t leave him with a whole new kind of hand scar. He’s not entirely successful in controlling himself and for the first time ever, he moves something during sex.

“Sorry,” he exhales and Alex releases him with a wet sound that’s hotter than anything he’s ever heard, “fuck you’re good at that.”

Alex grins and untangles Michael’s hand from the tags, kissing his palm.

It feels like being reborn.

“What are you doing?” Michael asks as Alex slips the ball chain off his neck while he’s elbow deep in soapy water.

“Here,” Alex says and drops a new chain over his neck.

Michael glares at him and Alex rolls his eyes, holding up his own tags so Michael can read them. The name on them doesn’t feel real. A part of hime expects he will open his eyes and still be on the floor of the trailer, still be sobbing himself to sleep with those first ones clutched in his hand. Not standing doing the dishes and having silent conversations with the person who knows him best in the world.

“Go put those with the others,” he says.

“Fine, Guerin,” he says.

“That doesn’t work anymore!” Michael calls after him, “it’s your last name too now! We’re both Guerin. I have the proof.”

It hangs by his heart.

Right where Alex Guerin always has been.

older, wiser, prettier

date: various, december 4th 1998,  2001, 2006, 2011, 2018 word count: 2170 triggers: emotionally abusive parenting, neglectful parenting, general shitty parenting, underage drinking,  forced drinking, abandonment, general terrible family  notes: me?? being literally like twenty fucking days late on her birthday solo ( it was meant for dec 4th but whatever i dont give a shit ) ?? yes, of course because indeed, i, am terrible, in fact, this is terrible and none of y’all should read it, i’m only posting it bc i won’t let myself not do it.

1998, age one. she spends her first birthday crying.

she was never a quiet baby. when she was first set into her mother’s arms by the nurses, she was crying; she cried through the nights from when she got home into the empty estate. her room is white, adorned with lace and silk, toys and it looks like a showroom – the perfect “socialite’s first baby room” for her mother to giggle about to her friends, show off as she barely takes a glance over the infant dozing in the bed. adjacent to her parents’ room, close enough to be heard, far enough for her not be seen, like most of the problems in the son family.

“come on,” it’s two in the morning, her mother, usually polished and a gushing smile on her face, was tired, “i don’t know what’s wrong with you.”

“she’s hungry, i don’t know, why don’t you feed her?” her father was skulking in the corner, head in his hands as she slumped over in the pristine rocking chair in the corner of the room.

“i already tried, she’s not hungry – she always does this, i don’t know what to do.”

“then work it out,” he lights a cigarette in the corner of the room, drawing in and out without a thought, “i don’t know what you want me to do – move her into one of the other rooms, i would like to sleep – do you think creativity stems from this? do you think i can write another best seller if i never get any sleep? what do you expect from me – you can’t keep walking around pretending you’re even something without money rolling in; even your body’s gone after her.”

her mother didn’t even react to his words – it was normal. “as if you’re the peak of creativity – you’ve been writing the same thing for years.”

“as if you know anything, you’ve made a living of being on your back.”

“i’ve made a living out of working hard, unlike you, how about you actually release something if you’re such a bestseller and stop pretending you’re some starving artist locked away in your study.”

“i’ll stop locking myself in the study when the baby’s gone and you’ve decided to stand there and look good again, quietly.”

“oh, but you’re fine to get yourself out of the room when the cleaner comes over, or the cook, or any of the other young women that seem to come and go a little richer than their contract.”

“shut up,” her father grumbled, “not exactly like you’ve held up well.”

“how about w-“

the two were cut off by the loud cry of their daughter.

“i’m leaving.” with a few slams of doors, her father left.

and her mother was alone, eyes shifting around the sickly room to her daughter.

“you better be worth it.”

and she left the room with her daughter crying out, far enough that she didn’t have to think about her for a second.

2001, age four. she spends her fourth birthday on stage.

she’s been dressed up like a doll: the dress is bright pink, puffy and encompasses all of her; her face felt tacky, sticky, and was covered in heavy makeup; and her eyes can barely stay open. she’s spent the hours of the morning walking around in circles, her feet ached, and she’d made a picture perfect routine.

before she could walk, she had been in beauty pageants, her mother was trying to shill her to industry connections to get her into ads and modelling jobs; sohee hated it. she screamed at her mother, she cried all the time, but it didn’t stop it, so eventually little sohee learned to deal with it.

her friends had teased her relentlessly the days before, playing in the park with wide smiles ( sohee hadn’t even noticed her father had sulked off instead of watching her ) before they started poking fun at her for not having a birthday party; they didn’t mean it, they were young, barely enough to know anything but they’d all been able to have parties, so why not her? sohee had ran home, tugging at her mother’s dress, and she just shook her head. she woke up on her birthday early to practice, nothing else was new.

she smiled, she twirled, she sang, and she got some stupid crown at a no name beauty pageant.

she went home a winner, and her mother yelled at her for her foot placement.

2006, age nine. she spends her ninth birthday lost in the woods.

her father’s writing process was something he called an art, it was something that her mother called stupid and a waste of time, sohee never even noticed any sort of backwards routine before her ninth birthday. one of his writing rituals included packing his bags, getting on a plane and flying out to a woodland cabin across the pond to “cleanse his thoughts” and that time, much to his dismay, chipper, young sohee was along for the ride.

she’s gleeful the entire way there, and it gives her father a headache, but she doesn’t notice. the car’s silent apart from her remarks as it always was. he didn’t have much to say to her, but with what ran through his mind it was better that way. she doesn’t know how to communicate with the people there, she knows how to ask basic questions and greetings, but when her father has short conversations with those they meet at pit stops, sohee stands there by his side wide eyed and confused.

the house isn’t the rustic, cold and damp place that bleeds information as he pretends it is – it’s a vacation home, without a doubt. and when they walk in, it looks like the type of extravagant place that families in movies sohee’s seen come to get together for christmas celebrations before slapstick chaos. but when her dad went into his office and slammed the door, she felt so cold.

she spends three days sitting around the house, flicking through magazines and watching dvds that she’d packed with her. and then her birthday rolls around, and it’s more of the same – her father’s locked away in his office smoking up a house fire and barely touching pen to paper and she’s pacing around the house pouting and crying that she hasn’t heard happy birthday once.

the hands on the clock hit five and little sohee decides that she’s had enough with all of this. shoelaces hastily tied, a backpack stuffed with her favourite stuffed animals for company and snacks for the trip – she decides that she’s going to have an adventure by herself if no one else wants to have fun with her.

it’s a few hours before she realises that she has no idea where she is, and the cold air starts to brush harshly over her skin. she’d not thought to bring any sort of torch, or even a warm jacket, with her mind clouded for a want to simply do something cool – and now she’d been trekking through the woods into the breaking hour of the night. and she was scared.

she’s out there for around three more hours, sitting herself atop of a log crying before by luck a group of hikers come by her, patient with her lack of understanding, and comfort her before leading her back to her father’s house without a hitch. she’s so thankful, she tries her best to talk to them, she exclaims that it’s her birthday in the best way that they can understand, and she makes it back inside. she tries to get them to stay, but they just smile at her, and wish her a good night – they try to speak with her father, but he doesn’t even answer the door.

cold and exhausted, sohee decides to end her birthday as quick as she can when she gets inside.

her father checks on her to say one thing,

“why did you track mud through the house? can’t you do something right?”

2011, age fourteen. on her fourteenth birthday, she decides that she’s grown up.

her parents decide to make some ill fated attempt to go to dinner on her birthday, but she doesn’t care, the most acknowledgement she gets of the day is that her mother makes some offhanded comment about how many years she’s been suffering because of her. in all truth, sohee’s happeir that they’re out of the house – she skips going to her training that night, she calls it a gift to herself.

so she does what she thinks the grown ups do, she reaches up to her father’s liquor cabinet and she pours herself a comically full glass of whiskey – it’s her first drink, she just wants to feel cool, grown up, independent. she takes one sip and she decides she’s done, and then she sets the glass down coughing up the fire in her throat.

“what are you doing?” her mother’s voice cut through the air, and sohee’s heart skipped a beat.

“nothing,” sohee dismissed, curtly, her chest pounding with anxiety, “i thought you’d be gone for the night, i believe you said that you couldn’t stand the reminder of me being born, or whatever.”

“doesn’t seem like nothing,” her mother hummed, glass now in hand and examining it like something priceless, her gaze practically cutting through it back through to her daughter, “your father was getting along with the waitress, i left them to it.”

that didn’t even dignify a response from sohee, who instead huffed, shrugged, and returned to a point of apathy.

“drink it.” her mother sits the glass in front of sohee. she’s confused.

“what?”

“i just said drink it, you poured it, and you’ll finish it.”

“i don’t want to – it tastes shitty, and you can’t tell me what to do.”

“i can,” her mother is completely unbothered by sohee’s argument, “want your tuition paid? want to continue to live somewhere? you’ll finish it.”

“i can’t,” she knows she can’t, she already feels sick to the stomach.

“i didn’t raise a quitter,” her mother’s tone is harsh, firm.

and so sohee drinks it, raises the liquor that burns like fire to her lips and takes a drink. but it’s not enough.

“the entire thing.” her mother states again.  

so she does, it’s every drink makes her feel sick to her stomach – it’s an overwhelming type of sickness that she’s never felt before, her stomach a ship at storm, and then she runs off to the bathroom. she barely catches her mother’s content smile, before a sigh.

she spends the rest of the night curled over the toilet.

2018, age twenty one. it’s her first birthday as an idol.

she doesn’t really celebrate birthdays anymore, ever since she spent the fifteenth birthday holed up in her school library – which she considered the best day that she’d had up until that birthday – acknowledging it just felt better to her than acknowledging she was an entire year older.

but she turns around in the morning, eyes barely open and her hands reach out for her phone.

━━ [ 💌 pretty flower sooyeon 🌺 ] : my sohee!!!! ━━ [ 💌 pretty flower sooyeon 🌺 ] : happy birthday~ ━━ [ 💌 pretty flower sooyeon 🌺 ] : i hope your wishes will come true and u will have the greatest birthday ever!!!!!!!!!!! ━━ [ 💌 pretty flower sooyeon 🌺 ] : lmk if gold star ever gets too much 4 u and u need 2 hide in the wish dorms i'll call u my emotional support human

she smiles, she doesn’t quite know how to respond to the message – and she notices that there’s more notifications behind it – she rarely ever told people the day she was born in high school to avoid any hype around it for bad memories sake but now, her chest feels gentle, and she’s smiling from ear to ear. she makes a note to respond to it later, when it’s processed for her.

so she walks out into her kitchen and she sees seunghee standing there, a huge, motherly grin on her face that she’s grown to adore seeing on her close friend. “what’s got you smiling like that?” she questions, pacing around the room.

“i have something for you,” the leader shifted to the side, a dainty, well decorated cake sitting behind her on the counter. “it’s for you, a you’re getting old signal,” she laughed, bringing over the cake to be in front of sohee, “i’m only kidding, happy birthday.”

the leader rushed to shove a candle into it, “i know we’re going to have to go soon, so i’m going to do this now,” she lit it up, “now make a wish.”

it’s the first birthday cake she’s ever had, and she doesn’t quite know how to approach it. so she doesn’t make a wish, but instead she just smiles and blows out the flame.

it’s her first happy birthday

.

Do Not Want: Organizing my Trashy AU

Jason Todd: Who was never a Robin, but helps out Red Robin and Robin in patrolling the truly bad parts of town; not as Red Hood yet, but he’s getting there. Who works as a mechanic and a courier, but also does construction--and by construction, he means knocking down walls with a sledgehammer and no shirt on, even in the winter. Who kinda has the hots for Icicle Junior after he stumbled into one of the apartments Jason was working on and he prevented the Young Justice from taking him off to jail by talking to them. Who sometimes gets a laugh by popping into the Watch Tower and Metro Tower to drop off food for the proteges on Harley’s request--Mister Terrific and Captain Atom are always so confused about his visits. Who owns and maintains and adores his motorcycle, but often rides around town on a mutated, jumbo sized Bud or Lou (the hyenas supersized courtesy of Bane being an idiot). Who often walks around Harley’s apartment in only his underwear and a ratty kimono, eating her food and lounging on her sofa playing guitar--not badly. Who might end up in a poly-amorous relationship with Cameron/Tuppence Terror/Tommy Terror if I can figure out a way to make it work.  Stephanie Brown: Who did in fact get pregnant and have her baby, but it was entirely without Batman having had anything to do with her; Steph never having been a Robin, a Batgirl, or Spoiler--though Spoiler is still possible. Whose baby was delivered by Harley and was given to a lesbian couple courtesy of Harley being a relative constant at a gay bar Renee Montoya also frequents and having connections nobody would ever know about. Who ended up helping out Klarion the Witchboy with his cat when she went into heat, and then ended up dating the Chaos Lord as a result. Who may end up having to save him from being burned at the stake in Limbo Town by his mom, but so far he just get harassed constantly by his sister and Steph ends up fending her off. Who is set to start at Gotham Academy, courtesy of Bruce Wayne noticing Harley actually watching out for the girl, though there is still the problem of figuring out how to word a piece of paper about Steph wearing the uniform with pants rather than those horrible skirts. Who will be a badass at school, so help me god--if only because the class goes on so many field trips where people almost get kidnapped or trashed and she’s the only one with a spine. Who may end up facing an Atlantean threat and getting branded, but I’m still unsure about this. Who will constantly insist on Red Robin asking out Lagoon Boy, because seriously, neither of them have any luck with women and she’s seen them giving each other looks. Who takes care of the Bud’s hyena cubs because Jason is not good with them, Harley is never home (and still mad that Lou was fixed, but Joker lied about Bud) and they’re albino, mixed and adorable and love her back. Tim Drake: Who has scar marks in the form of teeth along his neck from Harley having nothing else to tear out the genetics-altering microchip Joker was implanting in him while also torturing him, but it’s not that big a deal since all he had to do was raise the neckline of his suits and put on makeup for the rest of his life; it could have been much worse. Who is intensely grateful that Harley got him out of the torture when she did and dropped him off with the Bat signal lit up, rather than trying to fix his injuries on her own and doing something equally foolish; especially when he found out what happen when Joker caught her with Tim escaping. Who wanted to pay her a visit, he was so excited when she returned after months of her just being gone from Gotham and everyone thought she’d died, when she returned to Arkham (but Batman saw her and that was enough). Who likes to drop in at her apartment just to check on her and make (incredibly awkward) small talk and somehow ended up making friends in both Jason and Stephanie despite himself. Who might end up becoming closer to Stephanie once she starts attending Gotham Academy, but I’m still not sure in if it should be from her saving his ass or Harley showing up at Student-Teacher Conference and there being an incident. Harley Quinzel: Who is actually the main POV, but not as much as in ‘Hating This.’ Who has been divorced from Joker for 5+ years. Who is working back at Arkham, but on perpetual probation. Who has interns that she scares and bosses around and toughens up in the weirdest of ways. Who has healed up Eddie just enough to reintroduce him to society and is trying to get Ivy to talk to her again. Who prevented Jason from stealing Batman’s tires, thus preventing him from becoming Robin, but trains him in combat since he has taken to following the vigilantes around like a ridiculous shadow. Who scoffs at the idea of wearing white doctor coats and had her own died black (it also helps cover up all of her constantly bleeding stitches). Who lives next door to Stephanie Brown and took her in when Clue-Master went to prison and Mrs. Brown went to rehab. Who is often sick and injured, but won’t go back to crime. Who was gutted by Joker while she was getting Red Robin out of being tortured after three weeks. Whose was confirmed pregnant when Joker tore out a fetus instead of her liver or heart and stomped on it. Who can take some solace in the fact it probably would have died anyway. Who has found friendship in Joan Leland for some reason she still can’t explain, but doesn’t fight it. Who is still on the fence about accepting dates from Creeper, but less so with Ryder. Jack Ryder/The Creeper: Who both have feelings for Harley, but while Jack is wholly and entirely unsure about how to proceed when his track record with women is abysmal (both he and his last girlfriend broke up because they were cheating on each other, after all), Creeper is a little like a more mellow, less insufferable Pepe Le Pew. Jack is consistently freaked out now that Harley knows where he lives after Creeper was injured and brought back to their apartment, but Creeper was sedated when she left him a letter promising she’d never be back to the place--it looked far too tacky for her tastes. Creeper has so far only taken Harley on one date, but Harley agreed to take him on one after the first was a success, so Jack isn’t freaking out as much as he could be. Jack is sort of friends with Vic Sage, Iris Allen-West and right on the border with G. Gordon Godfrey, but not Clark Kent or basically anyone from the Daily Planet--and also not Summer Gleeson, or Vicki Vale or basically anyone that is consistently more irritating than Creeper can be. 

LOADING INFORMATION ON JINX’S MAIN RAP SEO YEEUN...

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: Yuna CURRENT AGE: 27 DEBUT AGE: 20 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 16 COMPANY: Midas SECONDARY SKILL: Fashion

IDOL PROFILE

NICKNAME(S): koala, seo yeoshin INSPIRATION: officially, she has often credited a lot of her inspiration to girl groups like s.e.s and fin.k.l noting how she watched their success as a young girl. however, much of her original love for music would come from her dad, though she would never admit to that. SPECIAL TALENTS:

can play bass; has played on radio broadcasts during jinx’s debut era.

tongue-twisters or just basically talking fast

painting

NOTABLE FACTS:

pretty much acknowledged from fans as a “useless” member, seen as a “pretty face” in the group. she wouldn’t deny this herself and she honestly doesn’t care.

plays both bass and guitar but really only showcased her playing bass during their debut as midas thought that would be a good way to promote the group.

known for being fairly stylish and her fashion risks. can sew, used to make her own clothes before debut.

predebut pictures caused a big stir between fans whether she was all natural or not.

fans like to hype up her creative side. they often point out that she can knit, sew, and paint.

IDOL GOALS

SHORT-TERM GOALS:

currently, she’s working on her own clothing line. in terms of talent yeeun knows she doesn’t have any. but she does know about design. she’s good at sewing, she’s good at putting together a nice outfit. this is actually something she feels somewhat confident in.

LONG-TERM GOALS:

she had always been told an idol’s life or career is often brief. a small blip and then people would move on. that if yeeun was smart, and too often she presents herself that way, she would be able to branch out into a more stable career option. she hopes that the fashion industry will be the career that sticks.

IDOL IMAGE

it takes a lot of time for her to become jinx’s main rapper yuna each day. time that is spent adjusting to what the public—the fans expect of her. how she is to behave.

she is an inconsequential piece of a much larger puzzle they inform her before the group’s debut.

in the early part of their career, the company decided to market her in a rather broad manner. in short she is just supposed to be seen as pretty, doll-like they emphasize to her. she can be cute off stage if she prefers but being sexy and charismatic on stage is a must.

essentially, yuna is to ooze a charismatic quality without trying, without talking. she is kind to her members, making sure to take care of them. she is charming in a cute and eccentric way. mostly she attempts to stay happy, cheerful and refreshing.

she is silly, girly, and cute in talk shows when required. she is sexy and ethereal on stage. she is overall unthreatening. this is how she want it. it’s better for her off-screen for her to be unthreatening to the public, to be somewhat unnoticeable. it’s after the first article of her predebut photos, of her alleged plastic surgery, that she realizes she prefers to be in the background. yeeun knows yuna is untalented. so yeeun tries her best not to hold the other more talented members in jinx back.

behind the scenes she is only slightly different than her tv persona.

where yuna is a bit more quiet and aloof at times. yeeun is chatty, sociable, and more of an airhead.

her manager had joked once while they had been out drinking, three years after their debut, that yeeun would be perfect for variety shows if she never opened her mouth. meaning, she had a great face and worked hard but she was stupid. so stupid it would ruin the groups image. it was enough to get her to be more quiet. because yeeun, above anything, else wanted the midas to know she was dedicated. dedicated and hardworking.

IDOL HISTORY

1997 "you’re so pretty,“ wrinkled hands cup her face "my puppy.” the summer sun paired with her grandma’s hands fill her with warmth. yeeun studies her face, there is nothing she wants more now—at twenty-seven than to go back to this moment. to be able to study her face again. to outstretch her hands and feel the curves of her face. the older lady’s laugh lines had always been her most prominent feature yeeun recalls, it had always been her favorite feature. that smile. a glowing reminder of who she was before she had gotten sick.

she tries to mimic it often. to find that same light her grandma had hidden in that smile. that warmth that her grandma had exuded, she envied many people in her life but nothing came close to that desire to be more like her.

“you’re lucky yeeun,” plump lips stretching into that soft smile “the world is always so kind to girls who are this pretty.”

1999 "come here sit with me yeeun.“ she’s cautious, cautious small hands fumbling with some toy, cautious little eyes looking at anything but the man sat on the living room rug. "my pretty little yeeun.” he slurs out while his calloused hands strum his guitar. the air feels thick, tacky with moisture and the room is illuminated filled with a dusty orange light, her favorite color.

she hates when he’s like this. she’s too young to know what’s wrong just that something is wrong. that something is different, is off about him. evident in his smell and speech.

they often did this; he would call out to her or put some record on or play something for her and she would dance. or they would both dance together. he would pick up her fragile small frame and sit her on top of his feet so they could dance together. so he could show her the steps. sometimes, she would sit on his lap and he would guide her fingers along the guitar strings.

but on occasion, like this one and many more to come, he would be different. a cigarette hanging from his mouth and his breath smelling of alcohol.

yeeun often felt sad for her youngest sister who she knew didn’t have memories like those. the good ones. where he was whole and alive and sober. no she was stuck with the ones just like this one. where his speech would slur or he would stumble or worse fall and yeeun would feel her face go hot with embarrassment as if someone she knew would see and know, know that her life wasn’t perfect that her parents weren’t perfect.

and then, eventually, he would be gone too like her grandma.

2003 "mom,“ yeeun pushes the lump in the bed with as much force as she can muster at twelve "mom, get up, we have to go to school.”

she knows it’s useless, since her dad passed earlier that year her mom had barely moved. “it’s normal,” her aunt had explained to her one day “she’s just tired.” her family repeat the same mantra. yeeun she’s just tired. yeeun she’s just sad. yeeun it’s normal. don’t worry, it’s to be expected she just lost the love of her life. she’ll snap out of it but none of that is true, she never does, not really. not fully.

“mom, will you at least watch yerin while i’m at school.” “your aunt will be here soon.” “i know, but it’ll be at least two hours before she can make it after i leave.” “okay,” she grunts as she tears herself from the bed “okay i’m up.”

the image of her mom like this sticks with her. hair a mess, eyes stained red, and so devoid of any feeling. yeeun, again with a hint of envy, had always loved her mom’s eyes. they were captivating and yet soft, always gentle looking at anyone with love and understanding. that had disappeared completely after her dad had passed.

“yeeun,” she turns to her mom before walking out the door “thank you.”

she pauses her mom’s eyes soften it’s the last time they look like this. the first time in months she has seen some emotion from her. or has seen her mom at all.

“i’m sorry yeeun.”

2007 "i have to leave yerin.“ she confesses this to her little sister one night. the air thick with summer heat while they lay in their bed. yerin had taken to sleeping with her that summer. clinging to her side at any chance she got. yeeun doesn’t know why she admits this. it will only cause chaos but she couldn’t hold it in anymore. she turns to face the child fast asleep next her, arms wrapped tight around yeeun. pulling at her heart. guilt filling her body.

carefully, she moves her sister’s small arms off of her as she looks for her brother. she needs to tell someone. she feels like this is a revelation and yeeun has never been one to hold anything in. even if she knows better.

"jun?” she whispers out his nickname, his real name he hates and continuously asks her to call him something else. ‘anything else.’ he tells her one day. she doesn’t ask questions just obliges. she finds him outside, the familiar smell of ash and nicotine indicate where he is.

“can’t sleep either?” he greets her with a smile that she can barely see only visible because of the end of his cigarette. “you know me.” she huffs out as she joins him. she hasn’t started smoking yet, but she does enjoy keeping him company while he does. it’s more like she just enjoys the late night conversation. he’s nineteen and already the bags under his eyes are too visible. he’s nineteen but for some reason she’s the one who is stuck taking care of their family. she tries not to resent him for this, even now.

“look at what someone gave me today.” she hands him the card. the name printed on it she can’t remember but the company prestigious. she can remember running her fingers over the indents numerous times. dreaming of escaping and running away to seoul. he chuckles before handing it back as he flicks a bit of ash from his cigarette.

“you can’t sing yeeun.” “so, a lot of singers can’t, besides i can play instruments and i’m pretty enough.” “wow,” it comes out in disbelief at her confidence “everyone in seoul is pretty enough.” “we could use the money.” “mom won’t let you and you’ll break yerin’s heart.” “i can’t stay here jun.”

2009 “what about you yeeun?” she knows the question is coming. yeeun realizes early on into her trainee days how obsessed they all are with each other. how each of them got there. how each of them were built. how the competition sizes up to one another.

she wonders if any of them really truly care about her story or care about her at all.

but, regardless, she tells them. because yeeun isn’t built for competition. she wasn’t crafty enough to be calculating. tells them how she left home at sixteen despite her mom’s criticism. tells them, in detail, how she got up early one weekend to take a bus and then to board a train just to get to the midas building. she tells them of her audition because they of course ask about that too.

“i played bass.” “you play bass, since when did you play bass!?” “yeah, since i was little,” she pauses and shrugs “my dad taught me.” “oh does he teach?” “no.”

yeeun finds it easier to not mention him being dead. she doesn’t appreciate the false sympathy and it doesn’t really matter anyway. it’s true that she played bass but she had done a number of things. she had sang and danced too, but she knew that wasn’t why she got in. they had even told her that at the time. it had been a collection of: “you’ll need to work on your dancing.” “she can’t sing.” “but i can see potential.”

and once yeeun is done telling the trainee of her simple beginnings the conversation moves on to another trainee. onto whether miyoung will be able to debut or if siyeon will be kicked out for her scandalous past or if sooyoung has lost enough weight yet.

her story getting filed away in a large storage of girls who might not make it.

2011 "you’ll need to fix your nose.“ someone in the company tells her this one day, early before they can debut. it’s the first time she hears she’s anything but beautiful. she cries to herself that night, alone in her dorm away from prying eyes. the only thing she had been confident in and it too is taken from her so easily.

she listens, however, to show her dedication. a few days later she obeys and visits a doctor. and after her recovery period is up she is bitter to admit she looks better.

when visiting her family one weekend, a rarity, yerin is visibly upset over her change. jun just laughs. she is bitter, once again, that he was right.

2013 "she’s so lucky she’s pretty.” yeeun hears it often. even well after the groups debut. she knows it’s true too. she isn’t a strong dancer, she isn’t a solid vocalist, she isn’t even good at rapping. her supposed position in the group. she is oddly unremarkably shaped and colored piece of the puzzle that is jinx. not really fitting in anywhere.

the public points out her past photos often. as if, being naturally pretty would have made her being untalented more bearable. yeeun admits they are right though, she is lucky. lucky to have member of jinx forever attached to her name. no matter where the group ended up, it’s a title that she knows will help her in some way. she is sure of that. even a new name—yuna (they tell her it’s prettier than her real name) to erase who she was completely.

2016 “you’ve got a good eye.” jun yells trying his best to get his voice to reach her as they make there way to a table hidden away in the restaurant away from the large crowd. she mishears it smiling as she accepts the compliment “thanks, i got them touched up about a week ago.”

he rolls his eyes as he sits down across from her at the table. “no, i mean like a good eye for clothes, you fucking idiot.” she isn’t sure what brings it up or even how to respond. it must be written on her face, though yeeun has never been able to mask her emotions with jun. a problem with knowing each other this long.

“you mentioned last week that you didn’t know what you were going to do if the group split up,” he shrugs like the destruction of what is essentially her whole identity is just a simple thing to shrug off “i’m just giving you some ideas.” she tries to ignore the knot in her stomach, the panic, this causes.

“i’m sorry, i just thought it was important to you.” “no, you’re right i can’t just keep living off jinx without branching out.” “right,” he smiles “so that’s why i was thinking, you should look at how you could get into the fashion industry.” “you’re too excited about this.” “well you know how i feel about you being in a girl group.” “no i don’t,” she stifles out a laugh “tell me how do you feel about me being in jinx?” “it’s fucking weird,” he pauses as if waiting for her to laugh or to ask a question before he unravels “i mean it’s just weird watching your little sister do these objectifying things for the attention of random strangers. to hear about you from old college friends wanting your number or asking if they think they have a chance with you. also it’s especially fucking weird that you’re so relaxed about you having work done. it’s like i’m talking to a totally different person.” “are you done?”

they both go silent a stark contrast to the bustling atmosphere of the restaurant. she feels her face go hot. feeling like that child again caught in embarrassment with her drunk dad calling out to her. she knocks back her drink, the sting of the alcohol burning her throat as she gulps it down. yeeun orders another one quickly before jun opens his mouth again. it’s going to be a long night.

“why don’t you quit?” “why would i quit.” “cause, yeeun, you never get to see me or yerin, you get no sleep, and honestly you look a fucking mess right now.” “thanks.” “i’m just saying it doesn’t seem worth it.” “well it is.”

2019 “have you talked to mom lately?” yerin’s voice calls out to her over the phone. no matter how much time passes yeeun can’t help but feel her heart melt at her sister’s voice. still seeing her as that little child she left behind. guilt forming a lump in her throat making it difficult to answer. “no,” she manages to get out before clearing her throat “have you?”

“fuck no,” yerin laughs “not since i moved out for college. which is going great by the way thanks for asking.” “i’m sorry,” she tries to bite back any sadness from her voice “i’m sorry i couldn’t make it to your graduation too. they wouldn’t let me off for it.” “it’s okay i still love you.” “i love you too.”

the line goes silent. yeeun exhales knowing what topic is going to come next she can feel it. she takes a long drag from her cigarette before exhaling again. she’s at least thankful yerin can’t tell she smokes, yet. it would cause her to spill into one of her long lectures about yeeun needing to take better care of herself. these have become more common now that yerin is on route to becoming a doctor.

“jun called me to talk about you.” “oh yeah?” “yeah, he says you should call him and thank him for his genius idea.” “i’ll talk to him after he apologizes to me.” “i wish you guys would stop dragging me into the middle of things.” “okay,” yeeun laughs “okay i’m sorry but he did start it.”

there’s another long pause after yeeun’s laughter dies down.

“i saw one of the jinx members on tv the other day.” “yeah, i think some of them have been pretty busy right now.” “i miss seeing you on tv since you’ve just been doing photoshoots and stuff lately.” “i miss you too.” “are you guys having a comeback soon?” “fuck if i know.” “geez, i just thought i’d ask,” yerin sighs “are you busy at least?” “i’m working on something i can’t really talk about it, but it’s something.” “at least you’re getting work.” “yeah guess i should thank jun after all.”