#but really something close to nothing considering how important those authors are as basis of the entire history of western philosophy
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I love the Goncharov meme conceptually. It feels like classic academia perhaps, definitely like studying ancient philosophy at times. You get a fragment (knockoff boots), a general context (Martin Scorsese films existing), and then a very long discussion about nothing starts. But the nothingness isn't entirely nothing, and there are still limits to what can and cannot be said framed by both the existence and non-existence of that which is being discussed. Hilarious, truly, and the fact itself so very interesting to analyse in so many ways.
#This feels a bit like studying and discussing presocratics or Socrate himself xD#ngl while I loved the boots thing (I had often thought about those knockoff boots‚ I found them hilarious)#I don't find the Goncharov memes particularly funny#But the concept is fascinating conceptually and thrilling to analyse in so many levels#The fact that almost every webwaving‚ even the ones about a fake film‚ have the same quotes#That basically everything said about this film is what is said about any other popular media#Is so interesting as how short media analysis falls into superficiality and miopic repetition of patterns#As is the fact that we can discuss to eternity something that doesn't exist#in a sort of Narcissus looking at his reflection on the pond situation‚ in love with our own discussion more than the thing itself#And that's a level. But it's also very interesting in how basically everyone has a very similar idea of what the film is about#How nothingness with sprinkles can tell us something‚ a lot‚ and make a ghost of a film which can effectively to some extent be analysed#It's also hilarious in how it puts a mirror‚ so to speak‚ in front of so many academic studies#How we've basically been doing this for centuries unironically and I'd say with at least a certain sense of self awareness#How this brings back studying and discussing the lost texts of Ovid or Sappho based just on what they say about them or the absence#in what they say about them‚ or what other authors say about them or how their works are wrapped around those lost texts#How it brings back the study and analysis of presocratics like Pythagoras or even Socrate himself of which we have Plato and Xenophon#but really something close to nothing considering how important those authors are as basis of the entire history of western philosophy#And yet there's honestly so much to say about them given the nothingness we have accompanied by the something!#And Goncharov memes work a bit that way#I don't know. There are really so many facets to this meme and they are all conceptually hilarious yes xD#Another but not less important aspect of this meme that I love conceptually is that#I'm a bit fan of funny lies. I adore them. Especially when constructed between several people#And Goncharov is precisely that lol#Goncharov#I talk too much#I should probably delete this later#Meme shit
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heyy! can you give me some advise on what to look for in a birth chart when it comes to long term relationships (any information: when, where, with who etc.) and with ideal career/job (again any information). i know there's a looot of information about it but if you could share some and simplify it a bit i would realyy appreciate it! xx
of course!
I'm trying not to make this too long....but you know me. 🤡
synastry
first house. this is the house of your physical body. where your personality shines through. and yes, this applies to those with saturn conjunct their ascendant screaming I don’t have a personality, I'm just like this. well, whatever. the mannerisms unique to you seep through here. so, having someone's planets in a positive aspect to your first house, indicates someone who approves of the way you conduct yourself. have you seen before those couples who are like....”oh, it’s just the little things they do...” more often that not, they’re talking about the first house. in a house connected to an ego, having someone who likes your little quirks, does wonders for your self-esteem. did I mention, that they will probably find you attractive? not bad at all. for some, looks fade so personality. over. everything. and I get it. I totally do. luckily enough, this house combines both...so uh, win win?
fifth house. this is the house of casual dating and fun. when someone’s planets aspect this house positively it can...well...sometimes make you want to act a fool with them. you can’t help but feel really playful around them and maybe act a lil dramatic, but in the most harmless and super entertaining (or so you hope) way possible. this house is indicative of one’s creativity, too. so in a long-term relationship, when perhaps you want to bring the spark back in a relationship, sometimes you may have to go back to what initially brought you together in the first place. for a lot of people it’s a shared interest in a particularly hobby or perhaps a way of creative expression. date nights can be seen here. but also recreational activities....did someone say netflix & chill?
seventh house. it’s how you view relationships and what you bring to the table. it’s an air house, so things don’t tend to get too emotionally weighty here. but it’s a cardinal house, indicating dynamic movement in this area of life. so when your partner has planets that sit here, it will indicate how you see them. mercury? you could see them as someone who you feel comfortable talking about anything and everything under the sun with. you may feel more willing to talk things out, which is important considering this house is other deemed the house of the shadow. you may enjoy travelling around locally together, too. this house also rules contracts, so positive contacts here could signify you and your partner closing really important and fruitful deals here/wanting to go into business together.
eighth house. I'm sure you’ve seen or heard couples who are like, “when we first started dating, they were this way...but now they’re like this....” *sharp nudge* “it’s because I'm comfortable with you, dammit!” who knew? oh this house knew. this is you, letting your guard down. this house is where we get to the nitty gritty of how you are in a relationship. we’ve moved from the lightness of the seventh house into a fixed water house where decisions made have ramfiications that can affect us more deeply on an emotional level. like joint accounts or debt that someone is bringing into the relationship. this house shows what you need from an intimate relationship. for example. you have your moon here. this placement often produces a moon who has been through it, but doesn’t necessarily show that. with their SO they will relish being able to be vulnerable, be told it’s going to be OK, that they’re able to lean on someone else’s shoulders for once. someone’s saturn might struggle there initially in synastry. the moon person may want emotional reassurance but the saturn person may act reserved or distant. in this house, you bare your soul in a way so it’s ideal to have someone who accepts all of you. someone’s sun here for example, can help shine light here.
planets
the sun. it’s one’s ego. it’s what drives you forward. aspects to the sun show someone who supports you for you, or someone who may try and dim your light. it can also show how comfortable you feel about being yourself around them as it’s a lil sensitive.
the moon. the inner child. it shows what you need to feel emotionally cared for. it rules the emotions and it’s helpful, to say the least, to be with someone who gets where you’re coming from. not someone who lets you have your own way unfairly all the time, but at least empathises. the moon fluctuates on a day to day basis, so you can see how important it is. love languages come to mind.
mercury. if you can’t hold a conversation together, I- .
venus. shows how you express your love. venus in water may be more sentimental. water in earth may be practical about it. what kind of person you’re attracted to is also governed by this planet. venus in fire may be attracted to someone who they are physically stimulated by, but also who has something about them that makes them unique. venus in air may be attracted to someone who makes them see things a different way, or opens them up to new experiences.
in your birth chart
look to where the ruler of your seventh house is. it will give you information as to how the relationship with evolve over time and also, the partners you choose. for example. let’s say we have a chart with aries rising using whole signs. the sign on the 7th house cusp is libra. venus rules libra. venus in placed in capricorn in the tenth house. so we can say that the ruler of the seventh house is in the tenth house. now with that information, we can see that this person may be attracted to someone who presents themselves as mature, or is older than them in age. they may go for people who are goal-orientated. social standing may be important. “looking good” together, too. it can also show meeting your partner at a work do, for example. you can do for that all the romantic houses, so namely the first, fifth, & eight houses to see how the themes of the house play out in your life.
aspects
saturn. whatever saturn touches, it usually sticks. saturn aspecting the dc, moon & venus, ruler of the fifth + eighth house can add a sense of longevity. whether or not the parties in question are agreeable about that is another situation..........
career
second house. your natural talents. you can look to this house to give you an indication of how you can attract abundance into your life. if fire rules this house, you may just need to go get it. be daring. take a risk. tell yourself nothing can stop you. confidence or the lack of, is important here.
sixth house. so you've found your talent. in this cadent house, you need to put in the work to nurture your skills if you want to strike out on your own for example. it rules daily habits. let’s say you have scorpio on the sixth house. this indicates that in your day to day life, themes of forgiveness, healing, and self-destruction may come up. it may mean that you have to gethonest about ways you sabotage your efforts through certain rituals or habits. for those of you wanting to move up the career ladder, the sixth house shows you’re ideal work environment. continuing on with this example, let’s add pluto to the mix. so, someone with pluto in scorpio in the sixth house, may prefer to be in small, intimate team, (pluto generally talks of downsizing things) or work alone. they will favour jobs that have a bit of depth to them. maybe they like to research topics that are taboo, or deal with death in some way. they could find themselves helping others in their grieving process for example. last but not least, planets in the sixth house can signify how others see you at your job environment, which I guess is important in a day and age where favouritism can sometimes get you further. whether or not its justified is another question. co-workers fall under this house so they may view someone with their pluto in scorpio as mysterious, intense, enigmatic. scandal and work can become intertwined.
the tenth house. now it’s time to take your talent and show the world. your biggest goals and dreams for yourself rest at the top of your chart. your legacy can be seen here. what you want to be know for in society. relationships with authority can be seen here too. as it sits opposite the fourth house, for some people with an afflicted planet in the fourth house, it can signify a sort of breaking free from what they view as holding them back when it comes to family. or, it can show taking what we have been given to us by our elders, and going on to do more with it.
planets.
i’m just going to name one i think is underrated.
mercury. “everything in life is a negotiation.” chris voss. (has anyone taken his masterclass?) and...that’s all I have to say on that one.
by no means did I cover everything, but I hope that it was somewhat useful. if anything was unclear let me know and I can clarify for you :)
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Is it just me or does Norman's relationship with the Lambda kids seem kinda weird? For example, he is constantly burning down factory farms, therefore killing the children inside them, yet Jin and Hayato, who are from factory farms, don't seem to care. Idk about you, but I would be at least a little upset if someone I trusted killed a bunch of my peers. Did Norman just not tell Jin and Hayato about burning the farms, or are they in a weird toxic situation where they think Norman can do no wrong?
MMMMMMHHH ok I get that the Norman burning farms keeps being problematic, and I know that people despise him for that. My personal take on the matter is that he really thought he had no other choice, and the other Lambda kids thought the same. In chapter 113, Norman explicitly states that there's nothing they could do to save them, for removing the devices from the children would cause their dath. At least to their eyes, there was nothing they could do to save the mass-production kids, and when the only option was them being eaten by demons, burning the farms probably felt like an act of mercy. And it's not like Norman was ok with it- as I've said before, I consider Norman to be an extraordinary emphatic person, and it's pretty clear looking at chapter 113 how it phisically hurt him to see those children suffer and to cause their deaths.
On the other hand, I won't deny that the relationship between Norman and his close circle of Lambda subordinates (including Hayato and Jin) is... Complicated to say at least. I've talked about it a little here already if you'd like to check it out. Overall I still stand by my statement that it was not anyone's fault for it being like it was, they were just a group of people that met in very unfortunate circumstances that didn't help them grow an healthy relationship. First of all, much of their coming together was for their common hatred towards a group end their desire to kill them all which is... Definitely not something that helps build and healthy bond, you know. Reading the interactions between Norman and the others, it's particularly disturbing how cold and emotionless he is towards them, and it's all the more striking when compared to how warm and gentle Norman is towards his GF family. I mean even in chapter 145, when he was supposed to reassure them that they won't die, it sounds more like a "this is my plan so it's impossible for anything to go differently from what I predicted, so you won't die." It's not a speech of a friend, it's a speech of a leader- and that's the whole point! In a moment of deep insecurity and unstableness, after having been abandoned of all the firm point of their lives, the Lambda group needed a strong, stable point to rely on. It's not like they asked him to guide them, it was probably more about everyone subconsciously taking on a role: Norman, who has remarkable wits and good leader abilities, became their boss, and the other Lambda people became soldiers that could rely on him. Since in this context there isn't any difference of status between the highest authority and his subordinates, it's natural that the Lambda peers were ok with their roles: after all, finding their place within a system is often considered a reassuring factor for people. Again, this separation was dictated by the circumstances: in a different context, Norman would have had no need to lead them, and they could have just been, you know... Friends. Instead in this case the distance between Norman and the others grew to be bigger and bigger: I'm guessing that for his gentle nature, Norman wanted to fit the best he could in the role of a strong leader, but that made him become cold and stone hearted, someone who, being the one everyone relies on, can't rely on anyone, because that's his role. Again nobody asked him to- I guess Norman is just like that. I'm not saying either he liked to act that way (he most likely didn't), but still did because he thought that was what the others needed.
I think I got lost along the way, but the point I wanted to make is: I think the Lambda group doesn't work as a group of friends simply because... Until chapter 153 Norman doesn't act as their friend, but as their leader / emperor: I believe that for a friend group to be healthy and balanced everyone needs to feel equal to the others, and that clearly isn't a thing in that environment. I like to underline that, excluding Norman, the Lambda squad is pretty cohesive and makes a nice group of friends (I mean chapters 123/138 even imply that Vincent, Barbara and Cislo hang out together which is... Honestly heartwarming 🤧); it's just that Norman wasn't part of that group to start with. (A pretty visual depiction of it:)
But... At the same time, that doesn't mean he never will? As soon as Norman stops feeling like he needs to be a god™, and as soon as everyone else realizes they have to treat him as the human he is, I really believe they can become friends in the healthy way of the term pfft. And the manga put very nice basis for such development: most notoriously the chapter 154 Cislo speech, but I also consider very important for Vincent's character growth the moment in chapter 168 where he stops calling Norman "boss" and starts addressing him with his name (for real, it's such an emotional moment: it's Vincent chosing to sacrifice himself not for his leader, but for his friend).
So yeah to sum up: Norman's relationship with the Lambda group is pretty unbalanced and not what I would define an healthy friendship, but that is something that can happen when the environment you live in is hostile, and it's really nobody's fault (like, for real- life lesson between the lines lol). That doesn't mean that they can not be friends once they've overcome their differences, and I personally think, once in the human world, they'll be friends who love and support each other <3
I answered all of that not knowing there was a part 2 attached rip.
Ok now I've talked a little about what I think of Vincent and Norman relationship and Vincent “buttler” role here. Overall, I guess that even if you're a very smart person yourself, thinking there's someone who holds all the answers and can give you solution to any problem is still a very compelling concept. For real peoples, it shouldn't be so surprising... These kids live in a constant nightmare, it's only natural for them to seek for reassurance, even if it comes from a very tall 13 y/o who acts like an emperor. I may have done the same at their place.
Yeah I TOTALLY GET THE FEELING OF THE CHILDREN IN THE PARADISE HIDEOUT BEING LIKE "there is now war in Ba Sing Se" like:
But I think... This is what Norman wanted to give them? A safe place to be happy without having to worry about the horrors of the outside world, because he was enough to handle them. I believe all the hideout children knew about the war against the demons Norman was getting ready for, but it was ok, because their Mr. Minerva was so good at what he did that they would have never been in danger. I think part of their easy believing is also due to the fact that most of them are just little children... It's easy for them to believe in that happy tale, they lack critical thinking lol. They were children rescued from farms, right? They most likely never saw a demon themselves, contributing to making them distant, abstract entities that couldn't hurt them. So more than “there's no war in our world” it's more like... “there's a war in our world but our boss is just so good that it's never going to effect us in any way :)". Can this considered brainwash?? I mean, I think Norman was just trying to be hopeful and spread some positivity among the children who would have probably been very scared to be taken away from their homes... Besides, Norman believed in that story as much as the other children did.
#tpn#the promised neverland#tpn norman#tpn jin#tpn hayato#tpn vincent#tpn minerva suicide squad#tpn manga spoilers#tpn analysis#mine#people asks me stuff#The ask talked about Hayato and I merely mentioned him- sorry Anon ;;;;
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No Limits: Part 10
Author: biaswreckingfics
Genre: Mafia AU - Warnings? Everything that goes on in a mafia au
Word Count: 2k
Previous Chapter
Junmyeon's POV
"If we attack these two buildings immediately, they'll be forced to stop their shipments and scramble to find new routes that haven't been compromised yet."
Junmyeon considers Minseok's plan as they go through strategy after strategy in regards to the map Sehun had sent them. The members had all been coming up with possible scenarios and outcomes for when they attacked the Baem's properties. Currently, he, Minseok, and Jongin were in his office running through their 15th plan. They weren't satisfied enough with any of them.
Junmyeon welcomed the distraction when he heard a knock on his door because his mind was becoming mush. He sits back as Baekhyun walks in to discuss something with Jongin. Junmyeon studies the younger men as they animatedly discussed whatever it was.
He had known Baekhyun for close to seven or eight years, and he had always liked him. Baekhyun had been so full of life before his sister was killed, and after, he tried to keep up with the life he previously had, but it had become darker and more twisted. He had become darker, just like the rest of them.
Baekhyun once lived the party lifestyle: girls, booze, and drugs. He lived hard and wanted to party harder, but it had become clear to Junmyeon that it wasn't the life Baekhyun really wanted. He was just filling a void within that he didn't know how else to fill. That was until you came along.
It was so subtle at first that Junmyeon almost didn't notice it. Baekhyun had started going out less, stopped bringing girls home, and hung around the house more. He became more curious about you and more interested in who you were. It was almost like he was drawn to you, and Baekhyun himself didn't even realize it.
Junmyeon truly noticed Baekhyun's actions and thoughts towards you when you were kidnapped by the Baem. Nobody helped him out more with the search and rescue than Baekhyun did. The pair spent countless hours strategizing ways to save you while Minseok tried to keep the two of them level headed. Junmyeon pushed everything he was noticing at the time to the side because, obviously, there were more important things, but now... How did he feel about whatever was going on between you and Baekhyun?
Well... he didn't know how to feel about it...
As your older brother, he wanted you to have nothing but the best and be with someone who would move mountains for you. Deep down, he knew Baekhyun would move heaven and hell for you if he could figure out a way; however, Junmyeon didn't think Baekhyun was good enough for you. This wasn't a fault on Baekhyun's part because Junmyeon would always think there was nobody on this Earth that would be good enough for you.
That being said... there was almost nobody else on this entire planet that he would really trust more with you than Baekhyun. Minseok was really the only other person that came to mind, and that was because he was Junmyeon's second.
The only thing that was really pissing Junmyeon off was Baekhyun's back and forth with you. He clearly wants to fucking be with you, so what's stopping him? Junmyeon was suddenly determined to find out.
"I need everyone to leave," he says before looking at Baekhyun. "Except you, Baekhyun. We need to talk."
Junmyeon notices the confused expressions on Minseok and Jongin's faces, and the startled one on Baekhyun's, as the men begin standing up and heading towards the door. Baekhyun watches as they leave the office, shutting the door behind them. A worried expression sits on his face before one of defiance and determination takes over.
"Sit." Junmyeon orders, gesturing to the chair in front of him.
Baekhyun slowly sits in the seat and then meets Junmyeon's stare head-on, which Junmyeon respected. He waited a moment to see if the younger man would question what this was about, but they both already knew.
"Stop messing with my sister and choose."
Baekhyun looks down at his hands in his lap, fidgeting with his fingers. "I did choose."
"The wrong thing." Junmyeon snaps, causing Baekhyun's head to jerk up, his eyes wide and confused.
"I... what?"
Junmyeon slowly starts speaking, gathering his thoughts as he goes. "I know you care about her and that you have feelings for her... If it's because of me... I won't stop you..."
Baekhyun opens and closes his mouth a few times in shock. Clearly, he didn't think Junmyeon would approve of the two of you being together. Honestly, Junmyeon was, kind of, shocking himself, but after the conversation the two of you had where you poured your heart out to him, he knew that it truly had nothing to do with him. If Junmyeon was one of the things stopping Baekhyun from being with you, then he wanted to change that.
"I'd rather her be with someone I can 100% trust, and that's you. I'm giving you my blessing... so to speak."
Baekhyun was clearly flabbergasted as he stuttered out a "thank you", but Junmyeon could still sense the hesitation behind his eyes, and that confirmed what Junmyeon was afraid of. He wasn't the only reason.
"What?"
Baekhyun looks off to the side of the room as he chews on his bottom lip. Junmyeon knew that look, and the only way to describe it was that he was fighting his inner demons. Baekhyun finally turns back to Junmyeon, and Junmyeon has to hide his shocked expression as he sees tears building up in Baekhyun's eyes.
"I'm terrified..." Baekhyun whispers. "I kill people on a weekly basis, yet letting myself love your sister is the most terrifying thing I've ever done."
A tear spills over his cheeks, but he doesn't even notice as he continues. "With everything that happened with Jisoo and Minhyuk... I can't risk that happening to Y/N... I would rather die. I couldn't go on knowing I was the end of her. I wouldn't want to. She... means everything to me."
The sincerity in Baekhyun's voice makes it hard for Junmyeon to breathe, and he knows, with everything in him, Baekhyun's the one for you. The only person he will ever approve of.
However, Junmyeon remembered all of the horrible things that happened to Jisoo and Minhyuk. He remembered Baekhyun's state during that time, and he knew he would be even worse if the same thing happened to you. He knew it would be the end of Baekhyun. Hell, it'd be the end of Junmyeon too. There was no way either of them would survive that.
"Baekhyun... She's my sister. She's the daughter of one of EXO's leaders. She will always be a target, whether she's with you or not..." Junmyeon reminds him before trying to turn it into a joke. "If anything, they'll be taking you to get to her."
Baekhyun nods his head, agreeing with everything Junmyeon was saying, but missing the joking undertones of his voice. Junmyeon sighs, feeling like he's close to a breakthrough, but he can't get to it.
"It's okay to be scared..." He softly says. "But living life out of fear isn't living... Both of you are going to die someday... Why not spend the small amount of time we're here together?"
Baekhyun looks at him, really looks at him, and Junmyeon holds his breath. He watches as a small light grows in Baekhyun's eyes, and a small smile fights its way onto his face. It was like someone finally turned the lights on in a once abandoned home.
"Hyung..." Baekhyun calls him for the first time in years. "I've gotta go."
Y/N's POV
You don't know how you ended up wandering down to the living room, but here you were, standing next to your favorite spot. The cozy chair next to the window.
Your thoughts were stuck on what Chanyeol had told you earlier in your bedroom. About him being the reason behind those girls with Baekhyun, and how you automatically assumed the worst about him... None of it was Baekhyun's fault, and you should've known that. You should've trusted your gut when it told you Baekhyun wouldn't do something like that to you.
A noise comes from down the hall, and you turn apprehensively toward it. You hold your breath as the sound of someone running nears you, and you quickly try to decide if you should be prepared to fight or not. Why the hell else would someone be running around here unless there was some type of trouble?
Surprise stalls you when you see Baekhyun run breathlessly around the corner, his eyes wild and determined. Once he spots you, he immediately turns to you.
"There you are!"
You take a step toward him, wondering what the heck was going on. Was someone injured? Did someone's mission fail? Was it Sehun?
"What's wrong?"
Instead of answering you, he takes a deep breath and stalks toward you with purpose. There was no other word to describe what was happening. He was looking at you like you were his prey, and all you could do was watch him in bewilderment.
Once he's in front of you, his hands immediately reach for your head, and he pulls you to him, crashing his lips into yours. Your eyes widen in shock at what was happening, but then you quickly give in to him without question.
This kiss wasn't like your first one. It was passionate and fueled by desperation. It was filled with everything the two of you wanted to say but couldn't bring yourselves to speak. It showed all the love, fear, hope, and longing that you both felt. It was soul-shattering... and it ended too quickly.
He pulls away and rests his forehead against yours as the two of you try to catch your breaths. You ignore your tingling lips and the lightheadedness you feel and look into his eyes, noticing him wildly searching your face.
"I love you," he earnestly speaks. "I love you so fucking much it drives me crazy. I'm terrified about how much you affect me, and the thought of living without you by my side makes me want to not live at all. You're it for me. No matter how much I tried to fight it. You're all I want."
His words overwhelm you and send you into a frenzy.
"I love you too," you whisper before you bring your hands to the back of his head and pull his lips back to you, kissing him with every emotion that you have.
His hands find your waist, and he tries to pull you impossibly closer. You part your lips, and Baekhyun eagerly slides his tongue into your mouth, stroking and teasing yours. A small moan escapes from you, and it takes everything in Baekhyun to stop himself from tearing your clothes off right there.
A low hum comes from Baekhyun's throat, which sounds suspiciously like a growl, causing fire to sear through your veins. The two of you were lost in each other, and there was nowhere else you'd rather be.
It takes a couple of seconds for any noises to penetrate the lustful fog that surrounded you two. When it does, you notice the sound of obnoxious throat-clearing coming from the doorway. The two of you reluctantly pull away from each other and breathlessly look over at whoever interrupted you, the thought of killing them only briefly crossing your mind.
"Really? Just right here in the living room for everyone to see?" Minseok says, shaking his head. "Well, sorry to interrupt the porno that was about to be made, but Sehun texted."
Tagging: @knjkitten @kpopserene @multifandombxxch @tashaxvamp @kpop---scenarios @bhyunni @chanyeolismybaby @flaming-laboob @taetaeeyong @lilbitoflyssa @misstressporkchoppp @hoseok-wang @spiltkpop @isha454 @depuis2mille @marovekian1 @ladylynae @abby8451 @lynniev @insta1010 @sawadabegum @avxngxrrogxrs @equesasprokishi @imstuckinafictionaluniverse @layisanangel @mongryong-the-corgi @overthelamebowz @lizbether01 @thatanonymousgirl-as14 @nothingbutadeadesceane @kim-ji-hyeons-world @suhappysuho @futuremrspcy @lovebuginlove @skylions-den @precious-seungwooya @softysuho @kuppyjiminie @blushinyouth @bat-shark-repellant @vickylamore @heartshapedenchiladas @cardtak @tanithrea @wooya1224 @multifanstuff @hyuniebaby @sehunnies-hunnie96 @endzii23
#no limits#mafia au#EXO Mafia#exo mafia au#exo au#exo au scenarios#exo au series#exo angst#exo scenarios#exo scenario#exo series#exo fic#exo fic rec#exo fanfiction#exo fics#exo fanfic#baekhyun fic#baekhyun fanfic#baekhyun scenario#baekhyun series#baekhyun angst#baekhyun au#byun baekhyun fanfic#byun baekhyun scenario#byun baekhyun au#byun baekhyun angst
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Lunar New Year Gift for vedrividia!
Pairing: Wei Wuxian/Lan Wangji; past Wei Wuxian/Other (implied)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: brief depiction of sexual harassment, brief instance of misgendering, implied/referenced past suicide attempt, implied/referenced past sexual assault (off-screen), implied/referenced past forced pregnancy (off screen), implied/referenced underage sex & pregnancy (off-screen), alcoholism, coming out, implied/referenced homophobia Other Tags: trans male character, disabled character, gay male character, open ending, unreliable narrator, angst, tender, chance meeting, confession, reunion, character with incomplete spinal cord injury, iSCI, it probably sounds darker than it is
Summary: On the last eve before spring Wei Ying finds himself at the end of a road. What awaits him on the other side depends on the steps he takes to cross it. Someone walks beside him.
Disclaimer: I am neither Chinese, trans nor disabled. All of the portrayal in this fic is based on research. It's not my intent to offend and I'm open to critique as long as it's respectful and constructive. Wei Ying's journey is his own and does not represent all of the disabled or trans community. The fic is set in a world that closely resembles ours, but where corona never happened and maybe China's laws are just a little less restrictive (but still very phobic), so bear that in mind. I do not own any of the characters.
Notes - Beginning: The idea of trans male Wei Ying had been stuck in my head for a while now, and I've been wanting to try my hand at a trans story, because I've never done that before. This assignment was an opening to do that in a darker, more serious setting. I have also wanted to explore Wei Ying's suicidal issues while translating his story into a modern setting for some time (it was supposed to be a coffee shop AU, only the coffee shop never appeared hah). It was simultaneously hard and fun to write, and I'm grateful for it. @vedrividia, I hope you like it!
In the past I didn't feel like I could do a good job at representing anyone of an identity I couldn't quite empathize with. Since then I've surrounded myself with trans inclusive media, and followed transgender blogs and channels, and I hope that this fic does right by all of them.
I am aware of some of the potentially problematic topics, but I also didn't want to ignore all the challenges and abuse and trauma that trans folk are forced to endure on a daily basis. (Did you know that trans people have some of the highest suicide rates, and likely to have alcohol issues? Making everyone happy and nothing hurt felt all kinds of wrong knowing that.) I believe that representing both - an ideal world alongside the real and flawed one - is important.
Positive stories are also important - this is one. Or at least I hope I was able to make it one.
On a more cheerful note, there are pictures that served as an inspiration for this story, namely this photoset (especially the pic in the leather jacket, the one on the couch and the close up) done in faceapp by a genius, this brain-frying picture, and of course this picture from the Harper's Bazaar Photoshoot that none of us are over. I completely blame Xiao Zhan's androgyny.
Last but not least, I owe a massive thanks to Laura for the amazing beta they did on a rather short notice and brought this fic to another level. Thank you for your hard work!!! :)
End notes: Wei Ying has an incomplete spinal cord injury in the lumbar area (at L1 or L2). I didn't realize that I played myself when I gave him an incomplete injury, because the lack of references and information is in terms of quantity a total opposite to everything available on complete SCI. Which in turn made the telling of such a story feel even more important. If any of you know of a good resource for the daily life of people with iSCI, I'm all ears.
Even researching the walking aides was a challenge, since most information is on wheelchair dependent people, which Wei Ying is not. He has a wheelchair but he refuses to use it, for several reasons, one of them being image, another being worry of atrophy. He likes a good walk, and there's progress thanks to physical therapy, most of which is covered by insurance. I was debating an exoskeleton/brace for him, but from what I gathered they aren't really useful for SCI (I welcome any additional info about this), and those that would be cost a ton and aren't covered by insurance - which is a big factor for Wei Ying. The toss ended up being between forearm crutches and a walking frame, but in the end I decided on crutches, because it seemed like Wei Ying would prefer them? For now? With crutches he can pretend, and I also didn't know to what extent a walking frame would be insurance covered (in China), and whether he'd be at a point where he would accept one. (I imagine the simple ones would be covered by insurance, the question is whether they make a huge difference to crutches, and whether a rollator - with wheels and a seat is something that would count as 'necessary' in this case.)
However, once again, I am not adequately educated on all that goes into the decision making here. No one ever mentions things like these in success stories. In the end I left it as a room for future development. I'm pretty sure Wen Qing is trying to convince him to get one.
I was debating whether to tag dysphoria. While it is not explicitly stated in the fic, Wei Ying does experience it, although this has gotten better since he realized being trans, came out and started testosterone. His decision to not transition fully is one that many trans people make at a point in their lives, for any number of reasons. This does not mean he'll never change his mind, or won't explore other forms of expression. It's a choice that the current Wei Ying is making, completely independent of future Wei Ying.
It's possible in China to get a gender confirmation surgery, but the requirements sound like a nightmare. The first thing you have to do is get diagnosed with 'gender disorder', be five years in (unsuccessful) therapy for it, at least 20 and unmarried. If he decides to transition fully to a male presenting body he can only marry someone who is biologically female in the future, under Chinese law. (Imagine having to divorce your significant other in order to be who you are. Imagine having to make this decision. It makes me want to write fic about it.)
It also costs a ton, as none of it is covered by insurance. You can only start hormone therapy in order to get surgery, which leads a lot of trans people to acquire hormones illegally and without medical counseling. I purposefully did not decide where Wei Ying gets his T from. I didn't want him to not have it, but I left the how undecided. For the most part I headcanon it as one of the things that make my world a little different, since hormone therapy is a thing that exists outside of transitioning as well. E.g. many female athletes use testosterone to boost their performance, and many other women take it for various medical reasons. I feel like WWX could find ways to acquire some. Now, whether this would be legal or not is left open.
By the way? Never, EVER deadname. Just don't. The moment someone comes out to you as trans, tells you their pronouns and name, that's what you use. You forget everything that came prior to that, wipe it out of your memory, it's ashes on the sands of time unless stated otherwise BY THEM, got it?
Now, Wei Ying's case. I was hesitant about how to approach this, but from the start I knew two things. I wanted the same kind of intimacy of WWX & LWJ calling each other by their birth names as in canon, but I also didn't want to go the way most authors go in this case i.e. splitting the names to pre- and post- transition. It is my understanding that most Chinese names are unisex (if anyone has more info on this, I'd love to have it), or can be used for all genders, and I didn't want to force a gender issue where there wasn't one. However, I also wanted something parallel that could be used in a similar way. What I came up with is what you see in text. While Wei Ying did change his name, the only reason why it's still somewhat okay to use 'Wuxian' is because he explicitly says he likes it. In fact, in my head somewhere in the imagined future of this verse, he and JFM have a conversation about it where JFM tells him if he wants it, it can still be his name - he didn't give it to an image, but a person. IDK how well any of this works, or translates to actual trans or Chinese (or trans and Chinese) people, so if you have words for me, let me know.
On a side note, in 2015 China lifted the one-child policy in favor of a two-child policy. A-Yuan was born in 2017.
Wei Ying attempted suicide between the 4th and 8th week of his pregnancy. During the early weeks the probability of a fetus surviving a major fall (even a fall from stairs) is significantly higher than later in the pregnancy, and the scaffolding he jumped from wasn't actually that high. I'm also considering that there might have been something to cushion the fall that he hadn't noticed (a stray rope, or a net) or been aware of (like padding on the stage), but that's a detail I decided to leave to your imagination. On the other hand, sustaining a SCI during early pregnancy is likely to have fatal consequences, as I found out a week before the deadline. In the end, they both got very lucky. Wei Ying spent the next 3 months in a coma. When he woke up it was too late to terminate. Jiang Fengmian had been adamant that the decision not be made without Wei Ying's consent, which was nice of him, but also ended up making the decision for Wei Ying regardless.
Last but not least, if you've read this and feel like you have something to add, I love any kind of comments, whether you wanna review the fic, have some useful information for me, would like to discuss a point or just like to say hi! :)
*****
Transverse
If asked, Wei Ying wouldn't have remembered how he had gotten to the bar. He didn't remember taking a different route on the short walk back home, he hadn't even been aware there was a bar in the first place. He only remembered suddenly standing in front of it, aching to his bones, limbs leaden with a familiar exhaustion, morose and longing for nothing more than a little break. His back was on fire, his leg was throbbing, the skin underneath his binder wouldn’t stop itching and to top it off his stomach had been cramping in a way it wasn't supposed to anymore. His body had decided to give him a wonderful gift for the holiday. Wei Ying wouldn't wish this on his worst enemy, and that spoke volumes to anyone who knew who occupied that position.
Needless to say, he was desperate for a drink.
The bar was almost empty so early in the afternoon, and shortly before the holiday, all the regulars had likely gone home to see their families. It was the time of reunions, the golden week of spring knocking on the door. The whole town looked empty, seemingly asleep and abuzz at the same time, a strange kind of liminal space born in the atmosphere of the coming celebrations, quiet with contained impatience. He had been painfully aware of it the entire week, the turning of another year leaving him nothing to do but watch people go where Wei Ying couldn't return anymore.
The Lunar New Year always made him hurt worse than usual, in more ways than purely physical. Wei Ying had felt that strange air peak today, even in the confines of his tiny office at the back of the Pacific Coffee branch he had been working at for a little over two months. It was a tiny thing on the busiest street of their small town, smelling of comfort in the wee hours of the morning and of salvation late in the evening. The staff had needed support with handling the supply chain, so that they could focus on serving the staggering amount of customers that came in all day.
It had seemed perfect when Wei Ying had first limped inside on his forearm crutches, with a letter of recommendation, feeling smaller than an ant but significantly less tough. The reintegration program had been a lifeline thrown to a drowning man when he had first heard about it. It had been the opportunity to restart his life. Earn an income. Be independent. In time maybe even repay his friends for the kindness they had shown when he had nowhere to go. Now? Now he wasn't sure that he'd still have a job after the holiday was over.
"This really can't go on," his boss had said, midway through the most gruesome shift the shop had ever witnessed. "Half the supplies came in wrong, for the third time this week!"
Sometimes, Wei Ying wondered why he still bothered. He could probably survive on aid and love for himself, and the Wens made enough to take care of the rest. It just… It could have been nice. To be the one to take care of the people he cared about, for a change.
He really needed that drink.
The whiskey looked enticing from where he was half-sitting, half-leaning on a stool, crutches stashed between his legs. He could almost taste it, the phantom of the sharp flavor burning his tongue.
"Hi, darling." An unfamiliar voice startled him out of his thoughts, causing him to tense. He had been aware of the middle-aged man at the counter, but he hadn't been paying him much attention until now. "Can I buy you a drink? How about Sex on the Beach?"
It was difficult to control himself at that tasteless, juvenile joke. Wei Ying could almost taste the bile rising in his throat and the beginnings of what would no doubt become a pounding headache throbbing in his temples. Great. Just what he had needed.
The whiskey bottle called out to him again, beckoning him to the bitter burn.
A drink. That was what he needed - a drink.
Do you really? Need it? The voice of his therapist came to his mind, sudden and uninvited.
"Hey bartender!" The man called out in the most unwelcome case of accidental telepathy in the history of mankind, sneaking one arm around Wei Ying’s waist, a sweaty hand settling on his hip. "One Sex on the Beach for the miss, on my tab!"
There was the rising bile again, tension squeezing his muscles, and the flash of a haughty smirk at the furthest back of his mind. This wasn't what he wanted. None of it. Neither the touch nor the drink, no matter what his mind wanted to convince him of.
It's easier to need than the things that take hard work, the ones you have to earn. It had taken him a long time to admit that.
"I don't drink." Wei Ying said, angling his head as much as the muscles of his neck permitted to look at the guy invading his personal space squarely. "Remove your hand now."
The guy bristled.
"Hey, chill out, sweetheart." He was quick to regain his composure with an awkward laugh and not enough common sense. Wei Ying supposed he must have been used to rejection. Too bad. "You're so tense… Maybe a virgin cocktail then."
His crutch shot up before the full sentence was out.
The man stumbled back with a startled yelp as the rubber point connected with his chest in a sharp jab.
"Hey! What's your problem?!"
"I said I don't drink." Wei Ying was completely unapologetic, still holding his crutch like a sword, but the guy was already walking away, muttering ‘fucking bitch’ under his breath.
"You alright there, girl?"
His gut clenched at the words.
He looked up to meet the only slightly worried, but otherwise unbothered gaze of the bartender and told himself it wasn't her fault. She probably wasn't even aware. He knew he didn't… There was no way for him to pass. There was nothing he could do about that, had already decided not to, not at this time, not in this country. Wei Ying didn't expect people to know on sight. He didn't. It didn't change the fact though that every single misnomer felt like someone was peeling his skin off.
"I'm not a girl," he said to her almost too quietly, but he knew she heard when he met her gaze. A strained silence passed between them in which Wei Ying watched her frown in confusion, then sputter with the loss of words, before awkwardly shuffling off. He smiled wryly. How funny. It really wasn't anything complicated, and yet… So few were able to comprehend.
Wordlessly, Wei Ying slid off the stool and made his way out of the bar as quick as his crutches let him be.
Once outside, the crisp air mercilessly purifying, he realized how close to the edge he had gotten once again. He had to stop doing this. He couldn't afford another fall, another spiral back down the drain. Not when he had just clawed his way out. Not when he had people depending on him now. Tiny people with curious gray eyes, so much like his own. Waiting for him at home.
Something icy touched his face and instinctively he looked up only to find it snowing.
That explained the ache.
The cold always made him feel sore, although he knew at least some of it was phantom pain. He hadn’t retained a whole lot of feeling in his left leg, beyond a tingle that had become almost constant and the occasional twitch. His right leg was fine, it just tended to ache a lot, to a point where Wei Ying sometimes found himself wishing it wasn't better off than the other one. But then he wouldn't get away with 'forgetting' his wheelchair at home, so he quickly dismissed that thought. Besides, there were plenty of people who had it worse. He, at least, could still walk. He could still stand. Kinda. He had no room to complain.
After all, he had done this to himself.
'It's better this way.' He remembered thinking, standing on the top of the catwalk stairs backstage of the high school auditorium. 'A-jie, Jiang Cheng,… Lan Zhan. I'm sorry for the trouble I've caused you. I love you. I'll get out of your hair now.'
In the end it had been easy to tip backwards and let himself fall.
Waking up had been the hard part. Not only had he failed, but every reason that had pushed him to end it all had only been made worse. Worse still, after. He had lived though, so that was that. There was no utility in regret. He couldn't go back. The only way was forward now, step by painful step. Standing around and staring at the snow falling was nice, but it wouldn't make the walk shorter. Home wasn't far away. He'd take it slow. He'd be there before he knew it.
He barely took three steps before he felt someone's broad shoulder bump against his, his equilibrium yanked roughly from under his feet.
He remembered falling.
Not the act of it, nor every thought and feeling that preceded it, but he remembered the soft pressure at his skull as he tipped backwards, the endless instant of the free fall, a moment frozen in time. Not the impact, but the inevitability of it, coming, coming, almost there. The loss of control. The frightening, exhilarating realization of his absolute surrender. Not the oblivion that followed but the fragments of muddled awareness afterwards. Disorientation, rock bottom and the overwhelming sense of failure.
It had felt nothing like now.
He felt the loss of ground beneath his feet, the scrape of concrete against his palms, as he all but starfished onto the pavement. A sharp pain. The frustrated annoyance of another thing gone wrong in the long list that made up the day.
Only the failure felt the same, funny that.
"I'm sorry!" Said a deep voice. "I wasn't looking."
"Yeah, no shit." He chuckled, because really, who could have guessed.
"Here, let me help." There were hands on his arm, just as he propped himself up, but he yanked it away.
"I'm fine!" He wasn't helpless. He wasn't, dammit! He had his arms, his abdominals, and most of his legs. Getting up from the ground wasn't such a herculean task for him as for those who depended on a wheelchair. He didn't have to call an ambulance just because he starfished. He didn't need any help at all here, especially not the help of some ditzy stranger with their head in the clouds…
"Wei Ying?"
Wei Ying froze.
Few people on this Earth called him that, and none of them had a voice like that. He looked up to see glowing amber on a face carved out of a dream.
"Lan Zhan?"
Of all the people to be in town today of all days, the least likely would have to be Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan, his former senior, Lan Zhan, his best friend. Lan Zhan, whom he had told his secrets, Lan Zhan, who he… who he…
"Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan… Can I kiss you? I understand you don't like me that way, and it's fine, I'm fine, really, but… uhm… It's supposed to be special. The first kiss. I… I want it to be yours. Just one kiss." A child he barely remembered had wanted and wanted, never satisfied. "Ah, it's okay if you don't want to. I get it. It's fine. I'm just being selfish."
But that had been a long time ago. A person he didn't know, a past life that had never truly been. Not for him in any case.
Lan Zhan was looking at him like a ghost had appeared in front of him.
Although, ghosts didn't need crutches. Honestly, Wei Ying did wish he could float quite frequently.
Face twisted in sardonic amusement at that childish wish, he pulled himself up with some maneuvering and a lot of effort. This seemed to wake Lan Zhan from his daze as he quickly followed. Wei Ying didn't miss the sweeping gaze as his once friend took him in, wondering what he saw. A stranger, perhaps? A new person? Him? Wei Ying knew he hadn't changed much on the outside, aside the obvious and maybe in his weight distribution, but Lan Zhan had always had the ability to look past the surface. Was he still able to do that? Or was he just taking in his appearance, assessing his matted, worn out body that seemed to show every year that had passed multiplied by ten? Wei Ying was aware that time had not been the kindest to him, but he was hanging on. He was past the worst now. He was doing better. He was!
He wondered if Lan Zhan still could see that too.
"Wei Ying." His name again, spoken with enough wonder to give Wei Ying the courage to meet his gaze. There was an unspoken question in it.
"Yeah," Wei Ying answered and felt the cusp of a smile pull at the corners of his lips. "Long time no see, Lan Zhan. Fancy meeting you here."
"I really like you, Lan Zhan," the person he didn't know had said, red faced with embarrassment and a shaking voice. "I mean like… like like."
Back then he had believed that moment to be the most nerve-wracking experience he was ever going to survive. Today he missed his naivety.
Lan Zhan gave him a look like he just realized it was really Wei Ying standing in front of him. Like he still could barely believe it. It unraveled a completely different ache in Wei Ying. They had been close once, and though they had always shared their secrets, Wei Ying had seen him so open and unguarded but once.
"I...like...boys," had been the answer. The refusal so, so gentle, unable to accept, thus giving something of equal value in return instead. A truth for a truth, a secret for a secret. "Wei Ying, I'm gay."
Lan Zhan, always figuring things out so quickly, always willing to accept reality no matter how hard it was. Wei Ying hadn't known back then. If he had known… Who knew what would have been then. It didn't matter anymore. It was a life long gone. What remained of it were a few good memories, some of them he wasn't sure were real.
Now, chance had made them cross paths once again, at a liminal space transversing through time.
"Are you hurt?" Lan Zhan's voice brought him back from his thoughts, and Wei Ying looked where he was reaching for his scraped hands and knees.
Lan Zhan, always the same Lan Zhan… "Not selfish."
So wonderful and kind and warm.
"Eh, I'm fine. Nothing Wen Qing can't fix." He brushed his former friend off, noticing how Lan Zhan's eyebrow seemed to go up infinitesimally at the mention of his old classmate and promptly changed the subject. "What brings you to Yiling, Lan Zhan? Shouldn't you be with your family for Chun Jie?"
"I…" Lan Zhan looked away. "Didn't get an earlier flight."
That sounded suspicious, especially since the Lan Zhan Wei Ying knew liked to plan ahead. But Wei Ying wasn't the same he had been, maybe Lan Zhan wasn't either. People were allowed to change. It also didn't answer what he was doing in Yiling in the first place, but Wei Ying wasn't forcing him to tell. Wei Ying had never wanted to force Lan Zhan into anything, he wasn't going to start now.
"Wei Ying." Lan Zhan looked at him again, this time meeting his eyes squarely. He paused. "How have you been?"
Wei Ying felt the loom of a shadow over him, and his gaze dropped to the ground for a second.
"As you can see." He put a reassuring smile on his face as he summoned enough will to hold Lan Zhan's gaze. "Still alive and kicking."
Which was probably much more than the last time Lan Zhan had heard of him.
"I was looking for you. I wanted to see you. After." The what remained unspoken. Lan Zhan's kind heart hadn't changed. Wei Ying sought comfort in it, warmed by the thought of his best friend trying to get in touch even after everything went to hell. "I was told you… left."
Wei Ying made a soft sound of affirmation through the small smile that had spread on his face. "I moved out on my eighteenth birthday. Aunt Yu… I was supposed to stay till graduation, but... ah. I fucked up. Colossally."
"Wei Ying." Lan Zhan remained the only person Wei Ying knew who managed to frown without a single crease on his face. "You were recovering."
"It was fine, Lan Zhan." Wei Ying chuckled even as he held back a sigh. Lan Zhan didn't know half of it. "I moved in with the Wens."
There was a pause.
"With Wen Qing?" Lan Zhan asked and Wei Ying realized that small detail wouldn't have been immediately clear to him, all things considered.
"With Wen Qing and her family." He nodded. After a moment of thought he added. "Not Wen Chao. I know nothing about that douchebag."
"Mn," Lan Zhan agreed and it sounded so wholehearted that it startled a laugh out of Wei Ying.
"Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan," Wei Ying said, feeling truly light for the first time in a long time. The smile he gave Lan Zhan felt warm and genuine. He hoped Lan Zhan saw it too, and didn't think Wei Ying was trying to shake him off, when he spoke next. "It's so good to see you. You're the best thing that happened to me today. I would love to catch up, but they're waiting for me at home and I'm already late."
"Mn." Lan Zhan nodded. There was a pause. Then, just as Wei Ying was about to ask for his number, "I could. Walk you. If you like."
"I thought you had a flight to catch." Wei Ying wanted to smack his mouth for how hopeful he sounded.
"Mn," Lan Zhan said. "In the evening."
"Lan Zhan!" He startled, amused and surprised at the same time. "And here I thought your bedtime was nine! Don't tell me you crossed to the dark side."
"It is Chuxi." Lan Zhan's voice was soft with a playful note, and Wei Ying felt his heart turn all over again even as he laughed.
"Aiya, Lan Zhan…" A smile spread on his face. "Alright then. I'd love to have your company. If you're sure."
"I am," Lan Zhan answered. "I would… very much like to… catch up with you."
"Well then." Wei Ying's smile broadened and started again in the direction he was heading earlier. "Right this way, sir. But I'm warning you. I'm basically a snail now."
For a beat there was silence, in which Wei Ying figured that Lan Zhan was probably looking for a proper response. He still didn't know how to handle self-deprecating humor, then. Wei Ying chuckled quietly to himself. The more things change…
"That is alright," Lan Zhan finally said. "I have time."
"Oh, do you? That's great!" Wei Ying grinned from ear to ear, marveling at how easy it suddenly was. "Aah, Lan Zhan I really missed this!"
"Mn," Lan Zhan agreed but didn't say anything else.
For a few moments silence reigned again, of a comfortable kind. One that allowed Wei Ying to bask in the startling, almost miraculous presence of his best friend. Or it would have been, had Wei Ying not been keenly aware of Lan Zhan's intense stare.
"Do I really look that bad?" He teased, hoping to give Lan Zhan the opening he probably needed to ask whatever questions he had. "I've actually gained weight over Dongzhi you know."
Lan Zhan blinked, as if startled to be called out. Wasn't he aware that he had been staring? Or had he not expected Wei Ying to say something?
"You look…" he started, then swept his gaze over Wei Ying.
"Tired?" Wei Ying offered, keeping the humor in his words. The last thing he wanted Lan Zhan to think was that he needed to sugar coat his words around him now. "Stressed? Battle worn?"
"Different," Lan Zhan finished.
"Ah." Wei Ying breathed out, something in his chest tightening. "Good different, or bad different?"
Lan Zhan looked at him for a long moment.
"Different you," he finally answered. A pause. "More you."
Wei Ying's breath stuttered, a small questioning sound dragging itself up his throat.
"Wei Ying…" Lan Zhan hesitated for a brief moment, unsure. "May I know your pronouns?"
Always so straight to the point.
"Pro… Pronouns?!" Wei Ying chuckled but even he could hear the nerves buzzing through that sound. "How did you figure that?"
Lan Zhan just kept looking at him. Wei Ying swallowed.
"I…"
He had to know. Since he actually asked, he had to already know. Or at least suspect. Be aware. In general, or about Wei Ying? Had he realized in their years apart, or was there something about Wei Ying now that made him guess? No one has ever been able to tell upon glance. No one.
Something fluttered deep in his chest, like the jingles of a tambourine reverberating. It gave him courage.
Wei Ying took a deep, steadying breath. "He, him, Lan Zhan. It's he, him."
He managed to swallow the thousand words that dragged themselves up his throat instead of that one, simple truth. To his credit, Lan Zhan let him, waiting patiently and with complete silence for Wei Ying to say his part.
"I'm trans," Wei Ying added, finding it easier to say after the initial confession. "As in full time, on actual testosterone, trans male."
Their eyes met. A heartbeat of silence.
"Mn." Lan Zhan nodded. "Makes sense."
Wei Ying had not expected that.
In his defense, no one had ever replied like that to him coming out.
"What?" He choked out, bewildered. Lan Zhan was giving him a gentle look, a diametrical opposite of Wei Ying's wide eyes. "Why does that make sense, Lan Zhan?"
"It didn't before." Lan Zhan's gaze dropped. "Now it does."
"What? Why?" Wei Ying repeated, not comprehending a single word his friend had said. At the back of his mind he knew he should be happy and relieved that as dear a friend as Lan Zhan accepted him, and he would be later, but now he was just confused. "Lan Zhan, what are you saying?"
"You confounded me. Before. I didn't understand. It didn't. Add up." He didn't even expect an answer beyond a shrug and an 'It just does', and yet Lan Zhan gave him one, trying to explain like he wanted Wei Ying to understand something important. Important enough to bring it up at their first chance meeting in years. It still didn't clear anything up. The way he was dragging his words out seemed odd too, for how upfront Lan Zhan usually was.
"What didn't add up?" Wei Ying asked again. What about him had confused Lan Zhan?
"I didn't know you were a boy. So it didn't make sense," Lan Zhan answered without looking up and Wei Ying felt dread tighten his stomach into a knot. "But now it does."
"What?" He frowned, the rush of blood pounding in his ears. "Lan Zhan, what are you talking about?"
Lan Zhan finally looked up at him and Wei Ying suddenly felt light headed. The grip on his crutches must have gone knuckle white from how firmly he was gripping the handles. It couldn't be…
"I was confused why I liked you," Lan Zhan whispered, dropping his gaze again. "Why I enjoyed kissing you."
Wei Ying's brain was white static.
No. No, no, no, no, no, no, "No!"
His whole body wanted to recoil with shock.
"Wei Ying," Lan Zhan pleaded but was cut short.
"I confessed to you! I told you I liked you!" He saw the bob of Lan Zhan's throat, how his eyes fell shut as he swallowed. Wei Ying despaired for words that could express the entire scale of emotions he felt, from betrayal to hope, but mostly just... shock. "You said you… You've never… And now, after everything… Do you even… Lan Zhan!!!"
"Wei Ying," he said his name like it was all he was capable of saying, with a hitch of sudden hesitance on the last syllable, a minuscule frown around his eyes, like he realized something important. "Do you still call yourself Wei Ying?"
The quiet question conjured up another memory, of an occasion much kinder.
"It's my birth name," he heard his youthful voice, still too high although most had described it as low. Lan Zhan had raised an eyebrow at him, even more puzzled than before. Wei Ying had laughed as he went to explain. "Same character as in 'infant'. Wuxian is the name uncle Jiang gave me so that I have a better name than, you know, 'baby'. It's a cool name! I mean, 'no envy' come on! Like I have no match in the world! Totally rad, you know, uncle Jiang's naming sense is A+."
"But you prefer Wei Ying." Lan Zhan had looked at him then, searchingly and Wei Ying had looked away with a snort, to hide his swallow.
"It's a terrible name. Who the hell names their baby 'baby'?"
Lan Zhan hadn't replied anything to that, and Wei Ying still remembered his next words, and how they had burned on his tongue, how he couldn't hold them back.
"It's what the people who loved me had called me."
In the present, Wei Ying found himself laughing in spite of the utter shock. Only Lan Zhan. Only Lan Zhan would give him a heart attack first then go make sure he wasn't deadnaming him on top of everything.
"Lan Zhan!!!" He cried out. "That's so not the point right now! But, yes, I do. I changed it back, actually. Officially, I mean."
"You dislike it." It sounded more like a question than a statement, so Wei Ying answered.
"Don't get me wrong, I still think Wuxian is way cooler, and my siblings still call me that, but…" His gaze fell away from Lan Zhan to something more distant, beyond his focus as he struggled over his words, drawing them out only with great difficulty from where they were rooted deep inside of him. "It's the name given to the image of a person that never really existed. Like… the painting of a person you met in a dream. And I sorta… I like to imagine that, regardless of who I am… They would still love me."
They. The people who gave him that horrible, unimaginative name.
"Mn," Lan Zhan agreed like there had never been any doubt about it. Wei Ying snorted.
"Wei Ying," there it was again, his name, spoken so kindly, if not hesitantly as Lan Zhan too seemed to be struggling for words. "I would like to apologize. I hurt you. I have been looking for you to tell you this."
All at once, Wei Ying felt his shock settle into something more profound, like the wave that had swallowed him revealing the depth of the ocean. There was nothing Lan Zhan had to apologize for. Not for the lack of awareness, and certainly not for his feelings. Even their conflicts had always stemmed from a place of deep care.
"No." Wei Ying shook his head. "Not more than I hurt myself, Lan Zhan. Even when you scolded me, you never hurt me."
Had Lan Zhan broken his heart? Yeah, he had. So what? Did that mean he could be held accountable for it? Wei Ying's feelings were his own shit to deal with, not Lan Zhan's. Returning them wasn't Lan Zhan's duty. Even if he returned them, would it be fair to fault him for running away from them? For feeling insecure and anxious about his own attraction? For not knowing these things weren't as clear cut as all the adults around them had wanted to make them believe? It wasn't like Wei Ying had known either back then. He had, perhaps, understood himself even less than Lan Zhan. Most importantly, it was all in the past now. It couldn't be changed. What they made of it now was what mattered.
"None of my bullshit is your fault," he added. "You didn't go and tell me to fuck up my life. That was all on me."
"You wrote," Lan Zhan started, then paused, hesitating, then started again. "In your letter, you wrote…"
Wei Ying picked up on the question immediately.
"Not you," he said, the same words he had penned all those years ago in what was one of only two letters. "Never you. I had my reasons, but none of them were about you. In fact, I thought of you as the last good thing in my life at that point. The one true friend I still had left."
Lan Zhan's gaze fell on his crutches, but he didn't ask. Wei Ying was grateful.
"Come on, I need to get a move on," he said, starting to walk again, smiling at the surprised expression Lan Zhan had given him, when he realized he was still welcome to accompany him. Maybe it was something about that look that made Wei Ying add, after another second of thought, "There are people waiting for my return."
"Mn," Lan Zhan hummed, falling back in step next to him. "That's good. You should have people waiting for you at home."
Wei Ying couldn't help but smile.
"Say, Lan Zhan,…" he said after a few seconds of silence, when all what Lan Zhan has confessed slowly sunk in. "When you say you've been looking for me… You mean all this time?"
"Mn." Lan Zhan nodded. Wei Ying watched him gather his thoughts, the snow fluttering all around them. "I wanted to see you. Ask how you were doing. See if… If you needed support. Apologize. For not being a good friend to you before."
"Lan Zhan…" Wei Ying listened to him, and when Lan Zhan finally looked up at him his gaze was so sincere that his heart ached with it.
"I wanted to tell you the truth." Lan Zhan didn't let himself be interrupted. "That I liked you back. Without any expectations. That I didn't understand, but that it didn't matter. That I could like you without understanding why. That I wasn't asking for anything, just wanted you to know. That I wanted to help, in any way you'd let me."
"Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan…" Wei Ying sighed, vision suddenly blurred. He drew a deep breath. "But I wasn't there."
"Mn." Lan Zhan nodded. "I asked your sister where I could find you…"
"But she didn't know," Wei Ying finished for him. No one knew, except one person. "And Jiang Cheng wouldn't give you my address if you held him at gunpoint."
"Your brother knows you're here." It had the structure of a question but it was spoken as a statement, the same kind of incredulous as the look Lan Zhan was giving him. All things considered, it was kinda fair, Wei Wuxian thought as he barked a laugh.
"Yeah," he said, shoulders shaking a little as he snickered. "He's the designated secret keeper."
Lan Zhan just stared, wordlessly.
Wei Ying's smile gained an edge at the unspoken question. He had to clear his throat before he answered. "We're… not quite alright yet, but… Ah, how do I say this? He's the better judge of the situation? With, uhm, aunt Yu, I mean. It's… complicated."
Honestly, when wasn't it?
"I… see." Lan Zhan really didn't sound like he did, but didn't press, continuing his story instead. "Your sister was able to tell me which city you were in. So I… applied for a job."
Wait. Pause. Rewind.
"You work here?!" Wei Ying felt his jaw go slack.
"As an attorney. At 'Xiao and Song'," Lan Zhan confirmed, then looked back at Wei Ying. "Civil law. With focus on LGBTQ+ rights. I passed the bar last year."
"You…" There was so much to unpack in that statement that Wei Ying couldn't quite get the words together fast enough. At the back of his mind he was aware he should probably congratulate Lan Zhan on his degree but he was too stunned by the other, more important implications. "You've moved here? For work? All because… Because… You were looking for me?"
"Mn."
"Lan Zhan!" His amazing friend who, for some reason, in spite of having a great new life had been desperate to find him. "But you… But I…"
"Wei Ying," he spoke so, so softly, but with clear intent to stop any protest Wei Ying might have wanted to utter. It worked. Wei Ying's mouth fell shut, taking his friend in with a bright, wide gaze. "I missed you. I have no expectations. I just… missed you."
Warmth spread in Wei Ying's chest over the tender words, like a dying flame rekindled.
"Lan Zhan..." He didn't quite know what to say, oddly touched. "It's how you knew, isn't it? I'm not the only trans person you've met."
"There was a client," Lan Zhan admitted. "They made me think of you. I have wanted to ask you since. I wanted to know if… If I made a mistake."
He didn't specify what mistake he feared being guilty of. He didn't really have to.
For a while Wei Ying just looked at him.
"Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan…" He sighed, a small but genuine smile stealing itself onto his lips. "You… you're something else, you know that?"
Lan Zhan didn't reply, but there was something vulnerable in his expression.
"I missed you too."
Lan Zhan's eyes snapped back to Wei Ying's face, full of naked hope and a surprise so honest and pure that Wei Ying's heartstrings almost snapped. He could accept it. He could accept a friend longing for his company, even as his heart hammered against his chest like it was trying to escape its utter desolation.
"I couldn't have expected you to know something I didn't realize until much later." He hadn't realized there was tension around his friend's eyes until it relaxed.
Wei Ying took him in, his entire appearance and noted that although perfectly poised and immaculately dressed, beneath it all there was an exhaustion, a tension he didn't recognize. He thought about their meeting – the collision of two bodies launched out of their orbit – and everything else Lan Zhan had told him and a question dragged itself on his tongue that refused to be swallowed back in.
"Say, Lan Zhan… Since we are being so honest..." He asked before he could have thought better of it. "Why aren't you in Suzhou yet, for real? You always went home at least two weeks ahead of the festival. Did something happen?"
If there was something happening with Lan Zhan's family… Well, Wei Ying had missed enough opportunities to be a good friend in all the years they had been apart, or even before that. If Lan Zhan wanted to be his friend, Wei Ying was returning that tenfold. A secret for a secret, a truth for a truth.
If Lan Zhan wanted, that was.
For a second Wei Ying wasn't sure, but then the broad shoulders slumped, heaving like a weight was being lifted off them.
"I didn't always intend to go," Lan Zhan admitted. "Brother convinced me at the last moment. I wish he hadn't."
Their eyes met and Wei Ying felt a sudden heat spread through his cheeks at the intensity of Lan Zhan's gaze. He didn't take the bait, waiting patiently instead.
"I came out to my uncle. After the bar." Lan Zhan's gaze fell to the ground again, and Wei Ying already knew what he was about to say, aching dread settling painfully in his chest. "He did not… react well. He tried to set me up immediately afterwards."
"Aw man..." Wei Ying tried to sound both gentle and sympathetic without being too pitying. In his experience that never helped. "Yeah, I get that you didn't want to go home after that."
"Mn." Lan Zhan nodded, but said no more.
"Was she at least pretty?" Wei Ying tried to joke, unable to bear that forlorn expression on Lan Zhan's face and incapable of thinking of anything better to cheer his friend up. It would have been easy in the past, but now, with years containing entire lifetimes between them he didn't know anymore how to make Lan Zhan laugh.
But then Lan Zhan's lips twitched a little, so maybe not all was lost.
"Luo Qingyang," he answered, like Wei Ying was supposed to know the vaguely familiar name. Lan Zhan responded to his confused frown with his own and went on to explain. "You were in the drama club together. She was… Juliet. To your Romeo."
Very few guys had been in the drama club at that time, so Wei Ying had usually gotten the main male protagonist. He had loved it. It had been one of the reasons why he had joined the drama club in the first place. His co-star in all of that...
"Mianmian!" He exclaimed, eyes bright with delight. "It's been ages since I've last…"...Seen her. Seen anyone, he didn't say, schooled his expression and laughed instead. "I can't believe they tried to set you up with Mianmian! How is she?"
"Mn," Lan Zhan made a small sound out agreement that amused Wei Ying, before he answered. "She is well. Studying. Also law. She will take the bar next year."
"All of you are so smart…" Wei Ying chuckled, fond with more memories. "You know I made out with her once?" He promptly laughed at Lan Zhan's expression. "Relax, it wasn't as good as with you."
Their eyes met again and Wei Ying saw something like hope spark in Lan Zhan's eyes, which…
Wei Ying stopped. He let his gaze wander around, collecting his thoughts. He startled as he realized he was almost home, the agonizing minutes he usually needed reduced to nothing in the presence of his friend. The ache that had gnawed at his limbs earlier had all but disappeared, replaced by a longing ache in his heart.
"Lan Zhan," he found himself speaking without the input of his mind. "You said you liked me, so you should know… I don't intend to have surgery." He saw Lan Zhan open his mouth, probably to assure him once more of his pure intentions, which Wei Ying didn't need to hear. "I know, I know, you have no expectations, and I'm not saying we have to, but… My feelings for you never changed. I still like you, but I'm also… I'm a man Lan Zhan, but I'm not adjusting my body. Not to that degree."
"Is it a financial issue?" Lan Zhan asked after a pause and Wei Ying cut him off before he could continue with something ridiculous like an offer to pay.
"It's… not not about money, but…" He thought for a moment about how to say what he wanted to say. "Regardless of that, I refuse to go through all the legal hoops that this government would demand of me, like I'm supposed to beg them just to be who I am. And... Besides that…" He took a deep breath. "I think I'd like to have another child."
"Another…" There was a strangled sound, which he ignored, forcing himself to voice what he'd been struggling to put into words for a while now.
"I want to give it one more try. Voluntarily," Wei Ying found it difficult to say, despite the thought of a baby in his arms filling him with a warmth he wouldn't have expected mere years ago. "With someone I actually like this time."
"This time." There was something very wrong with the tone of Lan Zhan's voice, and as Wei Ying looked up at him, realization hit him with the force of a freight train.
"Oh! Oh no!" Lan Zhan's eyes were akin to saucers, and Wei Ying vaguely thought he had never seen his friend express shock so openly. "Fuck, I'm so dumb! Of course you don't know! How would you know?!"
Of course that very same moment, before Lan Zhan had any chance of collecting himself, a cheerful shout echoed through the street in an all too familiar, youthful voice. "BABA!!!"
Wei Ying winced. In the way life usually was – his life in particular – before Wei Ying could come up with a single word of explanation, there was the flurry of movement, and a warmth enveloping his leg – the better one.
"Baba, baba, you're home!"
Wei Ying's eyes fell down to the source of the excited noise to have two mischievous gray eyes reflected back at him. An unbidden smile spread on his face.
"A-Yuan!" He shifted around a little until he could safely run his fingers through the child's hair, even as he was keenly aware of the man next to him. "Have you been waiting for me?"
There was a twinkle and a nod, his very own baby's face beaming up at him with unabashed adoration. A tiny hand wrapped itself around his wrist and just like that the last of the day's stress fell away. He looked back at Lan Zhan. It was difficult to describe the expression his friend was giving him, frozen with disbelief, shock and something too close to horror, as his mind seemed to be rearranging and reevaluating every piece of information known to him. Finding no point in delaying the inevitable, Wei Ying braced himself and went for it.
"Lan Zhan, this is a-Yuan. He's mine. Gave birth to him and all." He made a point to smile, although Lan Zhan's expression remained unchanged. Deciding to give him the space he needed to get himself together, Wei Ying turned his attention back to his child. "A-Yuan, this is Lan Zhan. He's an old friend of mine from school. Want to introduce yourself?"
"Hello!" A-Yuan said before Wei Ying even finished the sentence. "I'm a-Yuan and I'm already four years old! I like butterflies and bunnies! Baba gave me Radish and a coloring book for my birthday. I was four last month! I love my baba bestest! But I love xiao-shushu und Qing-guma and granny and uncle Shi lotsa too!"
It was an altogether perfect introduction, and Wei Ying felt pride and love thrumming through his heart with a strength he hadn't believed to be possible. He watched the mental math behind Lan Zhan's eyes, a complicated expression spreading on his friend's face. He decided to give him another moment to complete the mental calculations and focused on something else that a-Yuan had reminded him of.
"Speaking of, where's your xiao-shushu?" Wei Ying looked around, then with growing suspicion back at the child still wrapped around his leg. "Did you ditch him again?"
Mischief spread on a-Yuan's face as he hid in Wei Ying's thigh.
"A-Yuan." Wei Ying narrowed his eyes at him, gently scolding. "We've talked about this. No walking around on your own. What if something happened?"
"But I'm with you," came the simple answer. "I have to help you walk. You said! To help you walk I have to take your hand. I saw you and gege wasn't holding your hand, so I came to help."
"Ah, so filial, a-Yuan…" Wei Ying looked up to the skies, silently begging the heavens for strength while fighting a ferocious blush. This child of his was as much a blessing as he was a huge trouble. The best kind of trouble, if Wei Ying was honest.
"A-Yuan!"
He was still busy trying to change his smile into something more stern, when as if on cue the uncle in question appeared around the corner, calling for his nephew, looking just as frantic as Wei Ying expected him to be. He waited for Wen Ning's eyes to find them, before he looked back down at a-Yuan.
"See how worried Wen Ning is? You can't do this, a-Yuan." The child's expression fell. "Go tell him you're alright and apologize for running away."
A-Yuan didn't waste a single second, rocketing towards his uncle with an excited call.
With his child safe in the most dependable arms that there were, Wei Ying turned to Lan Zhan again. His friend's eyes were closed, face pulled into a tight expression, lips pressed into a thin line, all of which told him what conclusion Lan Zhan had reached.
"It was part of the reason," Wei Ying said, because he knew Lan Zhan would never ask and he wanted his friend to know. "But it wasn't all of it."
Lan Zhan's eyes opened, his look agonized but not pitying, Wei Ying realized.
"There were many things going on," he said. "It was all so fucked up… I knew I couldn't keep him, and somehow I figured… Might as well go together. In the end we both survived, funny that."
"The father. The father is…" Lan Zhan trailed off, couldn't bring himself to say the name, but he didn't have to. Just as Wei Ying didn't have to answer other than with a rueful smile. After all, there was only one option. Lan Zhan drew a deep breath. "Was it… Did he…"
Here too, Wei Ying knew what he was asking, felt it like the edge of a knife against his skin.
"I don't want to talk about it." He swallowed, a prickling at the corners of his eyelids. "Not yet, at least. I'll tell you the story another time."
Lan Zhan nodded. Worried his jaw. Wei Ying waited.
"Was that why you… left?" His voice was so quiet that if Wei Ying wasn't paying attention, he probably wouldn't have noticed he had said anything at all.
"To put it in the words of aunt Yu, whores aren't welcome under her roof. She threatened to leave uncle Jiang, if he kept supporting me. It's fine," he added quickly when he saw Lan Zhan's face darkening. "Uncle Jiang gave me the trust fund he had for me, which wasn't little, I have a job and I get some aid from the government too. There's also granny's pension and everyone else is working. You don't have to worry, Lan Zhan, we get by."
Lan Zhan looked like he wanted to say something cutting, but luckily they were interrupted by Wen Ning joining them, a-Yuan in his arms. He was probably getting too big for that, but he knew first hand that Wen Ning could lift a full-sized adult without breaking a sweat so he wasn't very worried for either of them.
"Wei-ge, welcome home," Wen Ning greeted him. His eyes wandered to Lan Zhan for a brief moment, then to Wei Ying's hands which were still scraped. "Is everything alright?"
"More than!" Wei Ying ignored the look, grinning and watched a-Yuan beam at him. "Everything's perfect, look who I met in town! You remember Lan Zhan, right? He was in the same class with Wen Qing. Turns out he works here!"
Wei Ying managed to say all of that in one breath before he even realized he was doing it, yet consciously leaving out the bar and without bothering to detail exactly how the 'bumping' went down. Wen Ning took it all in, then gave Lan Zhan a polite smile, his dark eyes meeting Lan Zhan's squarely.
"I know of Lan-xianbei," he said slowly, cautiously polite, before his expression settled into a smile and he inclined his head in greeting. "We've never met officially."
There was a brief round of long overdue introductions, which Wei Ying was happy to ignore in favor of watching a-Yuan grow increasingly fascinated with Lan Zhan. It etched the lines around Wei Ying's smile deeper into his features, in a way he hasn't felt for a long time.
"A-Yuan." he couldn't help but pinch one of the chubby cheeks, after a little shifting of weight. "You keep looking at Lan Zhan like that, he'll think you like him."
"Pretty gege," was all a-Yuan had to say to that, a smile splitting his face, while Lan Zhan's ears turned red. Wei Ying laughed, alight with surprise that the one tell-tale sign of his shyness still remained. Lan Zhan was looking at a-Yuan with increasing curiosity, that pained line from earlier disappearing from his features, slowly replaced by wonder instead.
Wei Ying only looked away when he felt a tiny finger poke at his cheek, angling his head towards a-Yuan to listen to whatever secret his son wanted to share.
"Will pretty gege stay for dinner?" A-Yuan whispered through his hands, causing a complicated set of feelings to run through Wei Ying's chest.
"Sorry, sweetheart, but Lan-shushu can't stay." Wei Ying mock pouted at his son. "He has a flight to catch later."
"Why?" A-Yuan asked, as he did all the time.
"He has to visit his family," Wei Ying answered.
"Oh…" A-Yuan's face fell. There was no doubt in Wei Ying's mind had the answer been anything else, he would have kept asking, but if there was one word a-Yuan understood better than anyone, it was 'family'. It didn't mean he liked it. "But… But I heard! I heard that we will have a party tonight! I cleaned my room, and I did a picture for teacher, and helped granny bake! I was the bestest and uncle said I could stay up extra long tonight 'cause then baba would live forever!"
"I didn't say forever," Wen Ning corrected him timidly, but neither of them paid attention to him, the poor soul. A-Yuan only heard what he wanted to hear, and Wei Ying was too busy making sure his heart didn't burst. He still sometimes couldn't quite believe how much he loved this child.
"Me too." It came unexpectedly from beside him, and when Wei Ying turned to look he found Lan Zhan looking almost as surprised as he felt. "I mean, I also usually stay up longer on Chuxi."
A-Yuan's smile eclipsed the sun. Lan Zhan returned it with an expression so impossibly soft that Wei Ying's heart almost did burst then.
"Pretty gege can stay, and his family can come too, and I will draw everyone a picture!" A-Yuan all but vibrated with bare excitement that Wei Ying felt bad that he had to chide him.
"A-Yuan, do we tell people what they can and can't do, or do we ask?" He had picked the gentlest way possible, but his son still hid his face in his uncle's neck, utterly dejected.
To be fair, Lan Zhan looked rather stricken himself. It was adorable to watch and Wei Ying… Wei Ying knew that no matter whatever feelings he might be harboring, he only came as a set with his son. There was no possible way of heaping that responsibility on another person from the get go, on top of everything else, and yet. And yet. Lan Zhan was regarding a-Yuan with such fondness that it did strange things to Wei Ying's heart, and just like that courage bloomed in Wei Ying's chest.
"How about a compromise? Lan Zhan," he asked carefully. "You still have a few hours left until you have to be at the airport, don't you? Would you… Would you like to come inside?"
"Yes, yes, yes! Please, pretty gege, pretty please." A-Yuan loved the idea, immediately reaching his arms out in silent demand to be held. Wei Ying could only watch as Wen Ning oh so carefully leaned forward and tightened his hold so that a-Yuan could safely launch himself into Lan Zhan's open, waiting arms. He bet Lan Zhan hadn't even noticed how he held them out in a response that had seemed completely automatic.
"A-Yuan," Wei Ying reprimanded him gently, doing everything he could to ignore the adorable pout that pressed into Lan Zhan's shoulder. It was difficult to do with his heart singing like that.
"I would hate to intrude," Lan Zhan replied hesitantly, his eyes not leaving a-Yuan for a second and Wei Ying felt his heart constrict.
"I don't think anyone would mind," Wen Ning said, smiling gently.
"It won't be an issue, Lan Zhan, really." Their eyes met. "We still have a lot to… catch up on."
There was a spark that darkened Lan Zhan's eyes briefly, something heavy settling in the air between the two of them. Chance had brought Lan Zhan back into his life, and Wei Ying wanted to hold on. In any way he was allowed to. As long as he was allowed to.
"And you could meet… You could meet my family." Warmth spread deep in Wei Ying's chest as the word 'family' echoed in his mind, before he added in a whisper. "If you like."
"Wei Ying…" Finally, after what felt like an entire eternity, Lan Zhan spoke, the softest of smiles spreading on his face, gentle as the first rays of the sun on a misty morning. "I would very much love to meet your family."
"Great!" Wei Ying felt the smile split his face from one ear to another and amidst the cheers of his child that echoed the ones in his heart and started towards the door that Wen Ning held open for him. "Come on in then! Let's give everyone the shock of their life that I brought home such a handsome man!"
"Wei Ying…" It was spoken as a reprimand but it sounded like a chuckle.
"Hi, handsome! You're Lan Zhan, right? I've heard all about you!" Somewhere in his memory a cheerful voice greeted the most beautiful youth that there ever was. "I'm Wei Wuxian. I'll let you call me Wei Ying."
The door fell shut to the sound of Wei Ying's laugh.
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YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND HOW INCREDIBLY GOOD THIS COMIC IS UNTIL YOU REREAD IT FOR LIKE THE THIRD TIME AND ALL AT ONCE AND THINK ABOUT WHERE ALL THE CHARACTERS ARE COMING FROM AND WHAT THE HEART OF THE JEDI’S ISSUES ARE AND OH MY GOD THEN IT HITS LIKE A FREIGHT TRAIN.
Okay, maybe that’s just me, but I reread this coming in one sitting again and it just smacked right into me how incredibly spot on this comic is about the main issue and what it’s doing to Anakin. The story is that there’s a war that’s been raging for centuries on a planet that has torn it apart, the Open and the Closed all want each other dead, no one even really knows who started it or why they’re fighting, only that nothing matters more than winning this war just for the sake of winning the war. There’s a Scavenger who is dropping kites in from the sky, pieces of salvaged art and culture, so that it might spark a memory of how they used to be more than this, but ultimately the Scavenger wants to furiously kill all the older members (and maybe even the Jedi sent to help them because he didn’t side with her and kill all the older Closed and Open) and “start over” with the younger ones, who say, wtf, no, whatever else is going on, this is our fight too. These are our people!
Interspersed with this is a story about Palpatine strong-arming the Jedi into letting him spend an afternoon with Anakin to thank him for his help with Naboo, to help mentor him while Anakin’s rage is having difficulty getting it under control. Palpatine takes him to the Underworld, where Senators are gambling away and Palpatine spins a story about how they’re corrupt, if we could just make them slip up a little more, we could go after them, because the system is hampering us. Anakin nudges the dice (which is what Palpatine wanted him to do), then the Senator loses his game, Palpatine takes Anakin back and says, oh, if only I could do more. The Jedi can’t just wipe him out, even knowing he’s corrupt, and my hands are tied, too. Oh, if only there was some other path outside of the system. By the way, have you ever considered leaving the Jedi and coming to work for me?
Anakin is considering leaving the Jedi, he fully intends to and has made those intentions to Obi-Wan known, who says he’ll respect it, if that’s what Anakin truly wants, but he believes Anakin is better off with them. In the end, Obi-Wan saves the day through calling in the Jedi, by saying there was a source of Tibanna gas on the planet, who cares if that’s actually true, the point was that he wasn’t on his own, that he was working to use and make better the system that he was working with, because they’d have died if they were on their own. Being part of something bigger is what saved them, what allowed them to give this planet any kind of chance at all.
THAT IS EXACTLY AT THE HEART OF EVERYTHING THAT’S GOING ON WITH ANAKIN AND THE JEDI. Everything in this issue is designed to be an echo of what Anakin is going through, right down to how he thinks the Open vs the Closed are like the Jedi fighting the Sith, which is what Palpatine will also tell him one day in the future, that they’re both “evil” from a different point of view, that both want power, and it completely sidesteps that the Jedi and the Sith are not mirror images of each other (no matter how much marketing makes it seem that way sometimes), that the Jedi do not want to win a war just for the sake of winning a war, and it’s not about fighting the Sith because they’re Sith, but because they go around murdering people and oppressing entire planets, that you can’t say one side is “just as bad” as the other when one side is going around murdering entire peoples and planets on purpose, you can’t say it about the Rebellion or the Resistance or the Republic, because there are legitimate reasons to fight and real people being fought to protect. But it’s sure going to be a handy excuse for Anakin, who is going to strip context out of everything, when Palpatine is dangling the possibility of saving Padme in front of him, that Anakin doesn’t necessarily want to think that way, but if there’s wiggle room to justify what he really wants (saving Padme), then he’ll jump on it.
But at the heart of this moment, the question is: Do you remain as part of the system that is deeply flawed because it’s the only way you can see to make any kind of actual betterment for people? Or do you leave the system all together, doing whatever you want, where you can act more directly against things that are wrong, but you have no weight behind you other than your own?
Palpatine is planting the seeds in Anakin for the latter, that going outside of the system seems like an appealing idea for someone who feels he’s not doing enough, that the Jedi won’t just go in and clean up the mess. And Palpatine makes it seem appealing because he’s deliberately side-stepping the consequences that would happen if the Jedi did that, that we see incredibly clearly in books like Master and Apprentice or Queen’s Shadow that these methods would not work. Padme goes around the Senate in TPM and pays for it for years, in her inability to actually get anything real done. Qui-Gon is only able to help the people on Pijal because he’s part of the Republic, if he’d left it, the slaves would have been absolutely fucked and Czerka would have gotten away with it. He understands that, if they just take out one Hutt, in a few months, a new one will take their place and everything will be back to where they started.
Obi-Wan’s point is that the only chance they have--deeply flawed and imperfect as it is (he says it directly when Anakin says “this entire world is just gone because that’s the system?”, “I don’t like it either. But, yes. The system is... not perfect.” “Then the system should change.” “Perhaps someday it will, Anakin.” THIS IS IMPORTANT FOR THE RESOLUTION OF THE STORY.)--matches up with exactly what Obi-Wan has always believed, that you work from within the system to change it, to make it better, because that’s the only thing that actually seems to work beyond just a few months at most.
And it’s precisely what happens:
The Jedi could go storming onto that planet and separate everyone, but as soon as they’re gone, the fighting will resume. They’re only 10,000 in a galaxy of quadrillions and they have other people who need their help, too. The only way to get anywhere is to be part of the Republic, to have that weight behind them, to be allowed to negotiate in the first place (if you’re not part of the Republic, then whatever treaty you negotiate doesn’t mean anything because no one’s going to honor it, the Republic isn’t going to honor something they never agreed to, never gave anyone the authority to offer on their behalf, NOR SHOULD THEY, otherwise Cad Bane can just go in and make a fucking awful treaty and have that be honored, too), to use the system as best you can to make changes for the better, which ultimately Anakin agrees with, hence deciding to stay with the Jedi.
But the seeds have still been planted and they’re definitely going to grow. Anakin’s desire to just go where he wants and do what he wants is going to be constantly at war with his desire to stay with the Jedi (with Obi-Wan) and his understanding that Obi-Wan has a point--as powerful as Anakin is, he’s not an entire system of government, that being part of something else makes him stronger, allows him a reach and an authority he would not have on his own. It’s not until he thinks he’s strong enough to be that entire government (and he’s deep in the grips of the dark side and his own fear at what he’s done to save Padme’s life) that he’s willing to truly step away from the Jedi. It’s not until Palpatine has engineered an entire war to completely overwhelm the Jedi’s attempts to change things (and there’s a very strong recurring theme in canon about how the Jedi keep trying to nudge things towards the better, keep trying to appeal for better decisions, and are consistently turned down--hell, that happens in this comic, when Mace tries to say no to Palpatine, who then strongarms him into being forced to agree) so that they’re too busy putting out tire fires and being in triage mode to actually make enough change anymore, especially when they have so little real authority themselves, as compared to the Senate and the Chancellor, that Anakin will be willing to step away.
What Palpatine does here is masterful, he lets Anakin think that doing something illegal and outside the system (ie, a small taste of just doing whatever it is you want to do, when you want someone taken out) will lead to clearing away some of the corruption in the system, instead of addressing the far more complicated questions of how easy that kind of power is to abuse and why it’s actually a really awful idea to go down that road, even if you think you’re doing it with good intentions. The system should change, pretty much every single person is onboard with that. (Except Palpatine and the other corrupt Senators who benefit from it.) That’s not the argument. The argument is about how that should change--radical action or steady work from within and what each of those entails and when you’re stepping over a line that you’ll pay for (which isn’t about yourself, but about the good you were doing, the people you can help, if you’re allowed to help them) and how Palpatine just threw a giant ball of mud into the pond that is Anakin’s understanding of all of this, because he needs those waters muddy to turn Anakin towards him. To take all those good intentions and all that power Anakin has and continue to use it for his own ends, rather than Anakin actually truly helping anyone on a long-term basis.
ALL WRAPPED UP IN A COMIC THAT ALSO HAS THE MOST GORGEOUS ARTWORK AND AN EXCITING ACTION STORY AND SERIOUSLY LOOK AT THIS COVER:
I went into this thinking, okay, I’m going to scream about Obi-Wan being amazing and Anakin’s star-struck face any time Obi-Wan does something and yell “I FEEL YOU, ANAKIN” and how Obi-Wan was planning to leave the Jedi Order with Anakin if that’s what he decided and just have fun.
Instead, I got a comic that just fucking nailed everything about one of the central conflicts between Anakin and the Jedi in a way that wasn’t really even that apparent until I actually started thinking about it (and have been yelling about it a lot recently, as my understanding of the GFFA evolves) and how there’s legitimate frustration and grievances there, but Palpatine strips out context and twists everything around to get his own desired result and it seems perfectly reasonable until you stop to think about it and how he played Anakin perfectly. That it showcases how there aren’t any easy answers to this, only people trying to do their best within deeply flawed circumstances.
THIS COMIC WAS SO FUCKING GOOD.
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Mister America, Prologue: Massachusetts
CHAPTER NUMBER: 1/?
CHARACTERS: President!Chris Evans/OFC (see notes)
GENRE: Romance/Drama
FIC SUMMARY: After a massive social media write-in campaign organized by others, Chris finds himself thrust into a spotlight that he is unprepared to handle. His campaign managers suggest that a political marriage might help him weather the storm and help his image during the campaign... just so long as it isn’t the one woman Chris really wants.
RATING: M
WARNINGS: Nothing.
AUTHORS NOTES: This story is AU in the fact that this is the 2020 presidential race, and Chris is a candidate. But everything in the past is still the same with him being an actor. Also, COVID-19 is not a part of this story. I needed to play in a land where COVID didn’t exist and “Captain America,” in his alter ego, punched out a Nazi in a metaphorical(?) way. For more on the story, go here.
This first part is prologue-y.
I have also curated a soundtrack for all 50 states, and then some. You can listen on Spotify right now, may eventually put it on Youtube. There will be 50 chapters (I’m hoping), but many of them will be shorter.
Also on AO3!
Boston, MA
Evans for President Campaign Headquarters
November 3rd, 2020
30 Minutes Before First Polls Close
Stage fright is no joke.
When it hits, it hits like a semi truck going seventy on an icy Massachusetts road. In the blink of an eye, you’re completely obliterated. Except this is on stage and you’re not dead, even though you wish you were. In fact, you’re very much alive. Alive enough to feel the force of the impact, followed by the squeezing in your chest and choking on your breathless words. Paralysis takes over. Cold clammy sweat slicks your palms and also trickles down your back to that one spot between your shoulder blades you can’t reach, but causes your costume to uncomfortably stick to your skin.
There’s no escape. You know what’s coming. You worry you’ll forget your lines, or trip on your cue, or make a complete and utter fool of yourself. You feel like an imposter, questioning why you’re here, in this role, when that dude, JD, from your acting class years ago was a million times more talented than you, and you’re the one that got that teen movie deal. You’re the one who became one of America's most beloved superheroes for a decade.
You’re also the one who has a very real chance of winning the 2020 presidential election, despite no college education, limited understanding of what elected officials in DC actually do on a day to day basis, and the closest thing you have to experience as a “boss” or “commander in chief” of anything was a movie set or two where you were director and executive producer.
Nope.
What I, Chris Evans, have is a dedicated online fan base who took the time to write my name into ballots when they discovered I had filed for ballot access in every state of the union. I didn’t do the filing on a whim; we sat around late one night talking about the interviews I had been conducting in DC for a website about party positions on important issues. My business partners and I came up with the idea that a long form documentary about campaigning would be interesting, and we determined the best way to understand the process was to become a “candidate” myself. Meaning, we only planned to use the credentials to be on the front line of the campaigning process. I was never going to create signs and make speeches or debate with others.
I never intended to run a legitimate campaign.
But, as I mentioned, something strange happened during the Democratic primaries. People started to vote for me, a trickle of rain in a hurricane.
I won a few primary delegates.
Without even trying.
Not enough to win the Democratic ticket, but enough to make pollsters sit up and take notice.
My loyal fans stepped in again, undaunted, and ignited a storm. They dubbed it “Operation America’s Ass” and created a grassroots campaign across the country with GoFundMe donations and a lot of pluck. I thought it was a joke. A part of me still does think it’s a joke. I mean, what other explanation is there for this mess? For the red, white and blue bunting hanging on the walls with the “Chris Evans for President” sign plastered underneath it? For the staffers who stop briefly to see if I need anything...‘Would you like a drink, sir?’... or, upon seeing how pale I look, give me a vote of confidence… ‘Are you ready for your acceptance speech?’ There’s absolutely no good explanation as to why there are twenty or thirty people buzzing around the hotel suite waiting for results. They’re so energized with hope for a better future.
Hope that I can be everything they ever wanted in a president.
An Independent president, free from party oversight.
A president with class.
A president for the people.
A president who can bring the United States back from the brink of destruction at the hands of previous leaders.
I wish I had their confidence.
When they asked me on career day in school what I wanted to be when I grew up, I always said artist. When I was older, in high school, I knew I was going to be an actor. Never president. The job never entered my mind as being a possibility, not even when I used to work for my uncle’s congressional campaigns. Or when I started filming those interviews.
Why does anyone think I, a straight white momma’s boy from Boston should be president in 2020? Just because I made a few popular Tweets about the current president’s lack of leadership?
It has to be a joke. A cosmic one. I’m a punchline. I am convinced they’ll jump out from behind a doorway and yell “You’ve been PUNK’D! We really got you this time, now here, Bernie, you’re the better candidate.”
And yet…
What if they see in me something I do not?
I place a lot of stock in being in the moment. I’ve also put a lot of work into accepting the twists and turns of life instead of allowing all the “what ifs” and “what should I dos” to eat away at me. I told everybody after I was done with Marvel and financially secure enough to only work on projects I really wanted to, I’d take life as it came at me.
Well, it came after me.
To be fair, I originally chose to get into politics, even in a tiny way, because I wanted to be informed about my choices. I created a website so others could learn, as well. As time went on, I became more involved on Capitol Hill. I even did some lobbying for a few causes dear to my heart. And, yes, I did file the ballot access paperwork.
Had I unintentionally set my path in this direction? Was it inevitable for me to become a contender for the presidency?
Fortunately, I learned early on in the process that a lot of being a presidential candidate is being a convincing showman. An actor. The world's a stage, after all, and I am but a player. You have to have some solid ideas and convictions to back up the image, but a lot of the governing comes from other members of the executive branch. Should I win, I’d only be signing off on everything.
Of course, that “everything” affects the lives of more than 300 million souls. I wouldn’t trust me with a kitchen knife, much less nuclear launch codes and people's livelihoods and education and health and…
My hands shake with nerves just thinking about it.
Let it be said, once I do make it out onto the stage--be it as an actor or presidential candidate--I rise to the challenge. The energy from the audience buoys me. Makes me feel alive. But I am not, by nature, someone who likes to sign away so much personal freedom in exchange for the weight of carrying an albatross around my neck. I thought signing for Captain America would be tough; the human toll of running for president even moreso.
Actually being President? I can’t even wrap my mind around that.
It would be easy to call it quits, even now when the votes are already cast. I could have done it a long time ago, when the reality of the situation hit me the first time. I didn’t. Something told me to hold back, play it out. I persevered. Why? Somewhere, along the line, I began to believe I could do this. I could make a positive difference in the lives of Americans.
I certainly want to do right by all my supporters--and my detractors. I want to be a leader for all Americans.
But can I, really, while knowing my incredible deficiencies?
Maybe I can’t, but I can be the team leader. A brand ambassador, if you will. A good leader delegates. And I intend, should I win, to surround myself with the best and brightest. I will accept no less. I will do ‘Whatever It Takes,’ as our slogan boasts. I am American, first and foremost, and I care deeply about this country.
A real Captain America, if you will. Maybe not as strong or powerful as others, but I sure as hell can give a great speech and will defend my country from bullies until my last breath, whether they be purple… or orange.
Except, I suppose if I’m elected, I won’t be Captain America anymore. They’ll call me Mr. President.
Or, horror of horrors, what if the new name my nearest and dearest coined makes it out into the public. They tease me with it just to see my visceral revulsion and get a laugh. But if I have learned anything about the internet--and pop culture--is that if something is catchy, it sticks around for a long time.
Maybe I ought to get used to the idea of being a punchline.
So, I suppose I have a question for you.
Won’t you consider a vote for Mr. America?
#chris evans#captain america#chris evans fanfiction#chris evans fan fiction#chris evans fanfic#chris evans fan fic#mister america#president!chris evans#president
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30. I Consent
Word Count: 5714 Previous
Whenever they had a chance to be together, she was pretty restrictive of what he could and couldn’t do. He felt almost like he was being trained for her pleasure... which was frustrating on some of his more needy nights, but any other time pretty hot because... well... she was Grace. Others didn’t stand a chance even being able to get a whiff of her and she would put it right in his face, sometimes allowing him to do something about it, sometimes seeing if he can follow rigid directions in a position like that. It made her smile, therefore, he enjoyed it to a certain degree. He kinda liked the torture at times. It was familiar to self harm, but in this instance, he actually got a treat sometimes, and the denial that he got at other times made for his longing to intensify.
But, he had hurt her in the past and now she had to reassure herself that he respected all of her boundaries, even those that seemed unreasonable. He needed to confirm if he was capable of seeking out her affirmative consent, or if he was simply playing along with some games in order to get sweet satisfaction. If it were the latter, he was going to have to really work for it. She had already decided on at least a 3 month probation period, meaning he did not even pull his tool out for that long and she would reevaluate on Christmas Eve whether or not they were in a place of going further than her current boundaries.
Sometimes, he wondered if her boundaries were real, or if she set them up just to test him.
Either way, he was settling into his new position at work, managing a project that had been his baby for YEARS, and also able to set aside time to set up his workshop for his hobbies.
Buying a big house was something his father advised him against, considering the cost of living in New York, the fact that he was “fickle,” and probably wouldn’t want to stay in New York once Grace was “done with him,” and that he wasn’t rich. Simon could afford the house that he bought. He wasn’t Monroe rich, but he did okay for himself considering his drawbacks and he was doing better all of the time. As his skill and success grew, so did his salary. He was confident that he wouldn’t harm himself with the purchase and comfortable about the size of it, because different moods needed different spaces.
His workspace was specifically for working, with his desk with three laptops and all of the work things associated with it. He had his little home “lab” in the same room. Lab tables and equipment for projects and various prototypes were set on the workstation and there were cabinets of supplies and stock for various technological needs.
His study was a miniature library of sorts (he didn’t have a lot of physical copies of books, as most of those were available electronically), but he did have some - important ones that changed his life, ones he had written, ones he had been given as gifts, ones he had from when he was little, etc… and his reading nook was there, as well as his writing desk.
His workshop would be mostly for his crafts. He designated the closet in there for his work tools - for house work and yard work and such, and the rest of it was going to be for all of his figures, whether wood or robotics. He had been jealous of his dad’s garage for a time, the way that everything was set just like he liked it and he had that space to himself just to delve into his model building. Simon determined at an early age, he’d have a designated space for his own passions too.
All of those rooms were set in different areas of the house, near the back. In fact, one had to pass by his study to get to the back porch… which was very big, and the backyard was even bigger. Grace used to indulge him when they were younger, and jokingly say, “I’d better stop spoiling you or you’ll get used to champagne taste.” The unspoken being understood by him - that he didn’t have the income for such taste. Instead of discouraging his tastes, it inspired his drive. Grace would always credit his good traits to, “Well, you’re a Leo-Virgo cusp. Of course you’re virtually perfect.” Simon didn’t buy that. Simon’s perfectionism was because he knew that he needed to be the best at everything that he was good at to be seen as worthy in those areas and to be taken seriously and ultimately be ahead of the curve for all of them. That was why he focused just as much on writing as he did building figures. That was why he focused just as much on engineering as he did writing. That was why he focused just as much on business skills as he did engineering.
So, that despite the fact that he was not an ambassador’s kid, he could still hold his own when they were together. Course, Grace was focused on other things at the moment. He made a conscious decision to check in with her every day to see if she needed/wanted anything, if there was something aside from that he could do for her or Hazel, and just to see how she was faring.
She was generally too busy, as she was working on her upcoming album release, and also mothering. Hazel was generally very close by or with her. She had a nanny, but Grace was very adamant about the nanny just being an extra pair of hands and eyes while she was busy, and not “a stand in mommy,” which… that couldn’t happen anyways, with the way that she tended to hover. Hazel had tried to talk to her about it, but Grace just didn’t know how to ease up. For that reason, Hazel was DELIGHTED that Grace was so busy with album business.
She loved her and enjoyed their time together, but she really just wanted to breathe sometimes. She wanted an adventure sometimes that didn’t involve her mom. That didn’t much include meeting celebrities like musicians, singers, dancers and such… because as cool as that was, Hazel wasn’t that interested in those types of celebrities. However, she DID love the fact that she was on a first name basis with Shana, because she loved her shady videos and the way that she made news fun, as Shana didn’t just dish out trash… she was an actual journalist and spoke on current events and world issues. She was an activist and a public figure and more than the gossip persona the public generally associated her with. And, she let Hazel use bad words whenever she was with her.
But, Hazel really liked whenever she was able to meet authors, particularly ones that wrote sci fi and fantasy. As far as she was concerned, aside from Grace, the most impressive celebrity that she had met was Simon. He wasn’t as popular as he had been a few years ago, staying out of the limelight these days and slowly getting back into publishing work, but the first Book of Esmoroth had sentimental value to her. It got her through a lot of bad real life and let her escape to a world where harming children was punishable by death and the only adults ever mentioned either served or helped the children. That was a very nice fictional place to go whenever most of the adults in her real life had been absent or weary from her. Plus, she would have a hand in the future publications of the series and that was a great feat FOR HER. Simon had even put her name in the credits of Book 2 and told her that he was dedicating it to her.
“For Hazel, seen only as a child when she really is a beacon of wisdom and reflection. The Throne of Esmoroth shall be yours someday.” That was WONDERFUL! THAT was gonna be published soon!!
She also liked that Simon was always available. She knew that it was because he wanted to impress her mom, but it was nice to have access to the one person who understood some of her less public ways a little bit more AND wanted to be on Hazel’s good side. Most of Grace’s friends were close enough that they knew her and got her (most of them knew her better than Simon, at this point in life), but they also were Grace’s friend first and Hazel’s associate second. They might see a need to tell Grace some of the stuff that she said, out of concern or duty or whatever. Simon… often struggled with that.
Hazel could call him and tell him about kids at school and not have to worry that Grace would get a text and want to speak with the administration about things or worse - to the other kids’ parents. She could tell him when Grace was getting on her nerves and he would laugh about it and rarely ever reminded her that she was trying her best and a good mommy (she KNEW that. She didn’t need people telling her that. She needed to vent on the days that Grace was TOO much of a mommy). Turned out that while Hazel and Simon were very different types, they were similar in some ways that made them connect a little bit easier than she could with someone who was her parent.
Of course, nobody would ever be as close to her as Grace and she could never love anybody more, even if she tried. At this point in life, Grace could probably leave her under a bush, and she’d spend the rest of her life trying to get back to her. She groaned at that thought. That was another thing that she could talk to Simon about and he understood it better than anybody else that she had ever met… that fear that maybe one day she would casually lose the most important person in her life. Maybe to her career, maybe to a love interest. Maybe to being tired of playing mommy… She had a very real and sometimes paralyzing fear of losing Grace. Simon understood it and always comforted her. That was when she DID need to hear what she already knew: Grace would never turn her back on you. If she ever accidentally put anything else first, she would fix it. What would not happen is that something would make her decide to ignore you or turn you away. Nothing is more important to Grace than you. And I should know. I used to be where you are. But, I messed that up. You’re really lucky. She loves you even more than she ever loved me.
“That’s not really true, you know… I was around when she was trying to get over you. I was around when she still loved you. After you hurt her… she still loved you. She learned to heal herself after being hurt, but you hurting her didn’t make her stop loving you.”
He needed that too. He had been told so much by Grace before, but it just felt more genuine coming from a kid who hadn’t technically been affected by those events. He knew that Hazel had no reason to say anything but what actually happened/what she believed from her observations.
So, while Grace focused on her career, Simon built his life in New York, and Hazel got used to the other person who she had come to respect a lot. She and Grace stopped by for the tea parties, as the tea table and stuff were there. Lucy and Lindsey liked Simon’s house… mostly the fact that it had a yard. Lucy lived in a penthouse condominium and Lindsay lived in a brownstone with nothing more than a stoop and sidewalk outside. Simon found it a little bit funny that these rich girls didn’t have yards, but after thinking about how happy it made them (so happy that they usually forsook the tea party to play outside in the yard), it made him sad. THEY didn’t care about the brownstone or the condos… those were parental decisions that deprived them of playing out in a yard, even though their families could afford to…
“What are you thinking about?” Grace wondered, from the cushioned back porch swing that she was reading a book on while the tea party table sat next to her, abandoned by girls throwing fall leaves at each other. It was so damn cold, but Simon had an outdoor fireplace and it was in the perfect spot in proximity to this seat for her to claim it as hers for this event.
“How people try to make space in their world for kids, instead of letting their kids make space in their worlds,” he said. She made a confused face and set her book aside. He glanced at the book, shrugged his shoulders and expounded, “People will plan to have kids or maybe even not plan to, but wind up with them, nonetheless, and they cut out what they imagine to be a child sized space in their world, giving them a percentage of their physical space, a percentage of their mental space, emotional, etc… Then the kids shows up and they’re often larger than life. Some people aren’t able to accommodate it. That’s sad… but it’s sadder when they are able to accommodate it, and they… just don’t..” She frowned. Was he attacking her parenting in some way? Was he saying that she wasn’t doing something for Hazel that she needed to be? She was on the verge of insult when he started crying. “I just… If I would have been a better person… I might have a kid running around with them.” He took a deep breath, then laughed, “I’ll shut up.”
“No… it’s… fine. Do you want to talk about it?” He bit his lip. “I didn’t ask do you think you deserve to be able to talk about it, because I know how you think. You think that everything that you say to me is whining, but I don’t think that. So. Do you want to talk about it? I consent.” he smiled a little and moved closer to her, so that she sat up and they were next to each other with opposing knees pressed against each other.
“I just… Sometimes, I’m upset that you didn’t tell me, but I also know that at that time, I wouldn’t have cared. I most likely would have responded as atrociously as i did about anything else, and then again, I always wonder, what if I didn’t? What if that could have been just the thing to help me see how fucked up I was and how fucked up I was being? What if knowing about them could have changed me then? Changed us?”
Grace nodded, waiting to see if he had more to say. He seemed finished. “To that, I say this… The way that you treat other people is how they might perceive you. Even if you say that could have changed you, I don’t think for one minute that it would have changed me. My trajectory was already affected by what had already taken place. I didn’t tell you, not only because I didn’t think that it would matter, I didn’t tell you because the flipside of that - that it might matter, that it might make you change, that it might change us… that was even more terrifying. The thought that someone could do the things that you did to me, then I might be faced with signing on to a commitment via a child with them… and just have to believe that they might be okay for us? The shoulda woulda couldas are behind me, because I know that even if I had told you, i still would have had an abortion, and I still would be at peace with that decision today. Because, for who we were and what happened, it was the best decision. It was a decision that in hindsight, I would have found to be the best decision, even if you were a better person. So… if you’re gonna be upset about it, the target is me. Because I would not have had a baby at that time, no matter the circumstances. Hell, I’m 23 and I don’t know that I want to have one now. Maybe 26, but who knows? I could reach 26 and think maybe 36. The thing about it is… that’s not on you. What you did affected me and us, but it didn’t affect that pregnancy or the outcome.”
“If I have a kid, can I name them Ivory?”
She flinched but shrugged her shoulders, “I don’t own the name… But, I’m probably gonna still name my first bio that.”
He smirked. “They could be the same person…”
“Yeah right. Kids playing in leaves is giving you baby fever at 23. You’re not gonna wait for whenever I’m ready to start producing one of those.”
“You’ve always struck me as a surrogate type,” he said.
“I absolutely am! Just the thought of the whole body changing, horrific ordeal that is pregnancy, and ultimately labor… just reads like a traumatic horror scene of gore and anguish. Now… I’m willing to pay good money for somebody else to do that, but the actual me doing it myself? I’ve read far too much about the subject matter to just want to. Anyways, they let Black women drop like flies in maternity mishandling all over the country. Someone would have to pay ME to have a baby, at this point.”
Simon laughed at that thought, then stopped. “I promise, I am not laughing about black women dying in childbirth!”
Now, she chuckled a little, “I didn’t figure that you were…”
“How much would you charge for something like that?” Simon wondered.
“To have a baby? The surrogacy process generally costs 6 figures, Dude. My prestigious womb would be double the usual.”
He laughed and shook his head, “Wow. What if you fall in love? Like… what if you meet someone and you two want a family and you happen to get pregnant? It’s happened before.”
“Yeah, when I was a kid. I don’t have enough sex to facilitate that could happen to me again and if I was already in love and already with someone, they would know and I would know that me squeezing a baby out isn’t a current option, so we’d be placing preventative measures in place!”
“Preventative… So, if you’re feeling extra good with somebody you love and the mood is right and you’re both really feeling it and you have a whole hot night of being pumped full of nut, you wouldn’t be inclined to keep a pregnancy that came about from that?”
“First off, be less gross. Jesus. Secondly… There would be no pregnancy to come about from that, because that’s why scientists created the morning after pill.”
“Good to know. I’m gonna act a fool in there, since it won’t bother you either way,” he said.
She knocked his knee with hers, “You just bought yourself longer probation.”
“I was joking! Partially…”
“You’re tryin’ to have a night of nutting in my immaculate womb and I’m not gonna give you a free to skeet pass!”
“OH MY GOD!” Hazel shrieked. Lucy was red in the face and Lindsey was cackling.
Grace covered her face with both hands and Simon said, “That wasn’t what it sounded like… and you all are like… 10-11… it should have sounded like absolute gibberish to you in the first place!”
“At what age do you think people know these things?” Hazel wondered.
“I don’t know… 13 sounds fine.”
“WHAT? You have to know about pregnancy and insemination as soon as your body is able to produce such things! Meaning, when periods start! Which, for most girls is between the ages of 10 and 16!!”
“I’m sorry…” Simon said. “This was absolutely my fault. Do I need to call their parents and explain?” He asked Grace.
“They heard ME, not you!” She said. “And… I’m not saying anything unless someone’s mom calls me and asks.”
Lucy shook her head, “I didn’t hear anything,” she said.
Meanwhile, Lindsay stated, “My mom’s career started in porn.”
Simon was red now, “Okay, well…. None of any of this happened and enjoy the rest of your tea party.” He got up and quickly left.
Lucy and Lindsay went back to the tea table. “Still hot!” Lindsay cheered, pouring them some from the pot. Hazel folded her arms, looking at Grace.
“It was a joke… You had to be there. Simon and I aren’t…”
“You’re doing SOMETHING. I can tell…” Hazel said, eyeing her suspiciously.
“Hazel, if something serious transpired between Simon and I, I would immediately talk to you about it, just like I did whenever he wanted us to start hanging out again. Okay?”
“Okay…”
Hazel went back to her tea party and the girls were giggling. She didn’t like whatever they were saying, but she eventually got over it. Whenever their parents stopped by, Grace did explain, “I’m really sorry, my friend and I were having an inside joke and the girls overheard something rather vulgar. I am willing to do whatever needs to be done if that affects her in some way. I just feel so bad that they overheard it.”
Lucy’s mom wondered what was said, so Grace said it very low to her and she looked scandalized, but she simply sucked it up and begged Grace to try to be more careful next time. Lucy’s father didn’t seem to even know what the words meant.
Lindsay’s mom didn’t ask, but Grace did say it on the low to her, and she laughed it off and said that Lindsay had unfortunately been picked on whenever someone at her old school realised that she was the daughter of Sommar Kittyn, so they had the talk with her when she was around 6, and the rest, the Internet fills in when nobody’s paying attention. Besides, her dad’s a rockstar… she absolutely had overheard her fair share of inappropriate things from their friends. She even gave Grace a no worries hug to accentuate that it was okay.
When they were gone, Grace noticed that Hazel wasn’t with her (probably was too embarrassed to look at them at the moment), and whenever she went inside, Hazel and Simon were speaking quietly, but both shut up whenever they saw her. “Hey… so, I think it’s gonna be okay. Definitely with Lindsay’s folks… hopefully with Lucy’s too… Really sorry about that.”
“You and Simon have been seeing each other,” Hazel said. Simon lowered his head into his hands. “He accidentally told me, because he didn’t know that you’ve been lying to me.”
“I have not been lying and Simon and I are not seeing each other. That’s the thing of it, Hazel. Adults and children have differing ways of dealing with each other and maybe Simon just didn’t really understand the proper way to communicate to you what our friendship is, because there’s not really a child equivalent.”
“I’m not a baby, Grace,” Hazel said. “You two are doing stuff with each other, and that sounds serious to me, for you, somebody who is publicly an ace figure and only recently began to even consider the possibility of perhaps demi… You’re doing stuff… that means your demi is activated!”
“No. It doesn’t. It means my curiosity is activated and there is someone who I can explore that with.”
“You two were talking about babies earlier.”
“Hazel. It isn’t anything that needs to be shared, at this time. Just some musings, Baby…” Hazel got up and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her and locking it. “Did she just?”
“She locked herself in,” Simon said. “I didn’t mean to make a problem. I misspoke.”
“How do you misspeak our situation to a child?”
“I certainly didn’t tell her that you’ve been training me to be an obedient partner.”
“That is not…”
“I only said that we were discussing having babies, but we’re not there in our arrangement yet… and she started trying to ask questions to understand better and all of the answers were accidentally more serious sounding than I meant to…” They spent hours outside of the door waiting (after at least half an hour trying to speak to Hazel about coming out). Eventually, she did and Grace was leaning onto Simon’s shoulder, but jumped up whenever Hazel came out. Simon quickly said, in a very stern tone, “Hazel, don’t do that again. You had your mother worried. She didn’t do anything wrong, and that’s unfair. If you try that again, I will remove the lock, do you understand?”
“Yes, Simon,” she said.
He sighed and gave her a hug. “You’re entitled to your privacy and your feelings. But, at least let us know that you’re okay. That you haven’t jumped out of the window or passed out or something.” She nodded. Simon left them alone.
“Hazel...:”
“I don’t feel like talking to you,” Hazel said. At least she was telling her the truth. Grace nodded and they left. Hazel didn’t say anything to her on the way back and Grace didn’t reach out or respond to Simon for days, which Hazel gradually came around to not being mad at her. Things came to a head when Grace was waiting outside of Hazel at school - in the New York November cold, mind you, and she was taking much longer than ever before. Grace consulted the calendar, to see if she somehow forgot that Hazel had tutoring or something. Eventually, she began to call her friends’ moms, to see if she had taken up shelter in one of their vehicles or something and just didn’t see Grace outside. Lindsay nor Lucy claimed to have seen her since school let out. She began to call even kids that she didn’t know as well - Todd, Alex, Louis… nobody knew where that girl was. She walked through the hallways and looked into classrooms, as she called Simon.
“Thank you for gracing me…”
“Have you talked to Hazel today?”
“No. Hazel’s pissed at me. We haven’t talked since tea party night…” Grace started crying. “Grace… what happened?”
“She’s missing! Or… hiding… I don’t know, but I’ve been waiting at her school for over an hour and I don’t see her anywhere!”
“Where is it? I’ll come help you…”
.
Grace was crying the entire time, pacing, tearing herself down and explaining to the staff, the security and the police how their schedule usually goes. Grace always either walks or drives Hazel to school. She parks in a certain place, stands in a certain place. She gave the time range that it usually takes, and explained why she “waited so long” to reach out - because she was confirming. Because Hazel doesn’t just wander off and she had no reason to suspect that she hadn’t mixed this up with math help day or something… They were acting like she had done something wrong and nobody was helping her find her child.
Eventually, Simon sat her down and offered, “I’ll speak with them, with your consent.”
She nodded her head, “I consent,” she barely choked the words out crying.
Simon began speaking as patiently as he could through his teeth, about how Hazel was in the care of the school until she walks out of the doors and that there’s staff everywhere and even cameras that they could possibly try to check to see if during the small window of time where she might have vanished, she was caught or seen. He didn’t want to bring it to threats, but he certainly would, if they made him.
After talking for a while, they seemed much more helpful with Simon and eventually advised them to go home and wait, make more calls, consider other familiar places that Hazel might have gone to, and contact them if they still hadn’t heard from her in 24 hours. Grace was a mess. She was crying and trembling. Simon took her home. She absentmindedly told him where it was, not worried about him not knowing, either out of the panic she was in over Hazel or having actually gotten comfortable with him over the past few months.
Whenever she came inside, she rushed through, calling Hazel’s name and looking for her. Hazel didn’t respond, but she found her on the bathroom floor and she collected her in her arms, “Hazel? Hazel??” She checked her for marks or bruises, or anything else… She saw none. Hazel was a turtle. Grace sobbed and collected her to herself. Her entire body was trembling, but Hazel was safe. She didn’t know how long it might take her to calm down.
“What’s happening?” Simon wondered. Grace shook her head. She hadn’t explained this to him before, and Hazel probably hadn’t either, because she didn’t like to tell people about it, and it hadn’t happened in a little while. Grace eventually calmed down and Simon remained in the doorway, watching, waiting.
Hazel’s eyes blinked and she looked at Grace and immediately began crying, “Are you going to give me back now? Now that I’m difficult again?” Grace burst into tears and she picked Hazel up and carried her into her bedroom, set her in the bed and cried more. Simon simply watched. “That’s what happens. First they find more important things. Then, they start to find other people or focus on other people. Then, they wait for me to mess up and they send me back.”
“There’s nowhere to send you back to! THIS is your home!” Grace said. She stood up and asked, “Did… Did you do this on purpose, to scare me, Hazel? Because, that is NOT okay! That’s not how we handle being mad at people. I thought you were gone. I thought somebody took you from me or worse! Don’t you EVER do something like that to me on purpose, EVER again!” She stormed out of the room and Hazel could hear her wailing as she made her way into the bathroom to collect herself.
Hazel started crying. She wasn’t used to Grace fussing at her. To her, that was even more of a sign of what would happen. Grace was gonna give her up. They always gave her up after a while. She had tested to see if Grace cared. She dodged her, made her way back home on her own, but while waiting for her to get home, she panicked. She became a turtle. And now, Grace was mad at her. Maybe, that was an excuse. Maybe Grace was waiting for this, so she and Simon could be together without her. Why else would she have hidden that they had been secretly seeing each other ever since her birthday?
Grace came back into the room, more calm now, and she sat on the bed. Simon was still simply there.
“Hazel, I need for you to understand how serious what happened today was, okay? One reason it is important to me not to ever leave you alone is because unlike where I grew up, kids go missing here so much more, and when they do… it is usually bad. Someone takes them and makes them a prisoner or uses them for bad things. Sometimes, they die. We live in a good neighborhood, but you wandering off by yourself, I imagined that you could’ve easily wound up in the wrong place, or ran into the wrong person. I don’t ever want anything bad to happen to you and for you to try to scare me into thinking about that is very hurtful, Hazel. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about me and Simon. I thought it was easier to not say anything and get your hopes up, because I know that you really like him and I haven’t been sure that I like him enough for him to be that kind of presence in our life. So, I didn’t tell you. You can be mad at me. Tell me, give me the silent treatment, whatever makes you feel better about me hurting you. But, it is not decent to hurt me by making me scared for your life.”
“I didn’t think about it that way. I’m sorry!” Hazel said, crying. Grace bit her lip and collected her to herself. Hazel cried against her. “I thought you were getting tired of me…”
“No, no… no… never. I’m hurt and I was scared, but I could never get tired of you, Hazel. Tired of life, maybe, and if I do, guess what? I’ll give up something else. Never you. Never ever you.” Simon finally started to feel intrusive and he slid out of the room and made his way out of her front door. They were okay, now. They didn’t need him. He was getting ready to get into his car whenever he heard his name. Simon turned and Grace was running from the townhouse to him. She threw her arms tightly around him and he hesitated before sinking into the hug. “Thank you… for being here for me.”
“I’m always going to be,” he said. He pulled away and looked at her. She still looked shaken up. “You need me to stick around a little longer?”
“I’m really still pretty shaken up. I can’t explain it. I know that she’s safe, but the after effects, especially not having had one of these episodes in a while… Do you want to stick around and help me with kid and turtle meal preps?"
"You got a turtle?"
"Hazel. Her psychosis... she sometimes thinks she transforms into a life sized turtle. I like to be sure to have some people safe turtle food so that she doesn't go out and eat bugs and grass like she did at her first home."
He was in awe. She blushed and shrugged her shoulders, "Her parents couldn't handle how she was. They dropped her off at an institution, and whenever she seemed okay, she was taken to a foster home. They tried for a short time and brought her right back. That’s what she was talking about in there… Everybody she wanted to trust - They locked her up. She didn't need to be locked up, she needed to be loved."
"Are you projecting?" He asked, trying to ease her nerves a little. She was still shaken up as they headed back across the street.
"Absolutely not. I definitely needed to be locked up."
"Maybe I did too."
"Well you know you could always go ask them to hold you and they'll let you know in 72 hours if you in fact, do. I'll be here for you, either way. You’ve been really trying and I don’t think that I realized just how much until I needed you today and you came through like..." Simon leaned towards her mouth, tempted to kiss her on the lips. She hadn’t kissed him on the lips. It was something that he wanted, but never attempted, as he was generally terrified that she would shut down and go home. He knew where home was now and she was asking him to stay a while. It was as good a time to press his luck as any… and Grace leaned into it. “I consent,” she whispered, letting him fills the space after that confirmation.
"Well, that was a friendship kiss."
"Very platonic affection," and they kissed again… “We’ll tell Hazel tomorrow…”
Next
#If They Didn't Get on the Train#AU Infinity Train#Infinity Train#Nesha Fanfiction#Infinity Train Fanfiction#fics
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We’re the Same Ch.3
AO3/FFN
So honestly this chapter should probably be titled "I got distracted by the Lovesquare." Also one of my favorite chapters, because DAMMIT these two are too cute!
Thanks to @mini-minou for betaing once again, she was really helpful! (also pretty sure this is one of her favorite chapters so far too.)
Disclaimer: This is a Lovesquare fic, with Identity Reveal, Hawkmoth Reveal, and Hawkmoth Defeat. It is NOT a salt fic.
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“You’re late.”
“We’re not exactly on a time limit, Damian. And I didn’t agree to meet you at a specific time,” Ducard said with a huff.
He narrowed his eyes. “You were only a couple miles away, it should NOT have taken this long for you to arrive.”
“You know what?” Staring at him flatly, she said, “Yes, it shouldn’t have. I took this long because I was buying donuts. But hey, you don’t want any, that’s cool. I’ll just have them all myself.”
Looking at the bag she was carrying, it said “Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patissiere”.
“I suppose some sustenance is a decent reason for delay,” he stated begrudgingly.
She smirked at him. “I knew you’d see it my way.”
He chose to ignore that.
While sitting on a rooftop munching donuts, they compared notes.
“The dot disappeared at this bakery,” Ducard told him between bites. “I’d thought that maybe Ladybug had just gone in for a bite to eat and the tracker had fallen off, until I spotted the owners’ daughter, Marinette. She looked a lot like Ladybug – she even had the same hairstyle as her – but she didn’t exude the same air of authority that Ladybug did, so I wasn’t sure it was her.”
“You went invisible and followed her?” Damian said.
Ducard nodded. “I had to be really careful. Her bedroom door is actually a hatch door, you have to climb up a ladder to reach it. Luckily she wasn’t looking behind her while I opened it, and it closed quietly enough that it wasn’t a complete giveaway. She DID look around suspiciously for a moment, but she didn’t discover I was there.”
“I’m guessing she was Ladybug?”
Ducard nodded. “This little ladybug-like floating magical creature emerged from her purse. They started talking about what happened during our little encounter today, why the Lucky Charm might have said that we were needed here. After listening for a bit, I planted a few bugs and then left while she was in the bathroom.”
She gave him a critical look. “You know, she thought you were pretty rude today. It might not hurt to lighten up a little, be a bit nicer.”
“I don’t do nice,” he huffed.
“I’m just saying, sometimes it helps when needing to work together with others.”
“Hmph.”
Ducard sighed, then changed topics. “So, what did you discover?”
Now it was Damian’s turn to smirk. He told her what he’d found out.
Ducard winced. “Chat’s father is Hawkmoth? Do you think he knows?”
Damian considered. “From what we saw of him, he didn’t SEEM like the type to go along with that… but I haven’t seen much of him yet. He might just be a good actor. Though considering that he’s in love with Ladybug and his reaction to her being in danger, if he DOES know, I doubt that he wants to hurt anyone – especially her.”
“Maybe we should tell him then and see what his reaction is?” Ducard suggested. “He COULD still be a good enough actor to fool both of us, but I doubt it.”
“Oh, we’re going to do more than that,” Damian grinned. “You WERE just talking about working together with others. Ladybug and Chat Noir surprised us. I think it’s time we repaid the favor.”
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So this wasn’t the only sighting of Robin and his companions.
Adrien sat in his computer chair, looking at various international news stories he’d found. Only a few had clear shots – Robin hadn’t exactly been sticking around for close-ups – but those clear shots were unmistakable. Giant furry red dragon-bat things weren’t exactly common after all.
(Well, that Adrien knew of. Discovering Miraculous and getting acquainted with magic in general had thrown a LOT of old assumptions out the window.)
He’d been right about Robin having disappeared and presumed dead for awhile it seemed, though he’d been back for several months now. He’d have to ask him about that at some point. He certainly HOPED that Robin had just been grounded or something, but looking at news reports of the Batfamily’s behavior just after Robin’s disappearance, he got a sinking feeling.
It wasn’t like he was totally unfamiliar with death, at least of a sort; he’d been caught by akuma numerous times, and not all akuma were benign. He’d never heard the full story of what happened with Timebreaker. But considering that his life apparently depended on defeating her, plus there being a Ladybug from the future but no Chat, he could make an educated guess.
Maybe Robin had just gotten badly injured and came back once he was healed. That might explain why he was gone for so long and why the Batfamily was so violent while he was gone.
He really, REALLY hoped that was the worst of it. It had to be. Right? He’d seen Robin, he looked fine now. What’s the worst thing that could have happened to him?
…Dammit. Don’t think about it.
Ok, changing tack, why would the lucky charm point them towards Robin? He was useful in defeating the akuma, sure, but it was nothing he and Ladybug couldn’t have handled.
Considering what had happened on Heroes Day, maybe he was needed for some extra backup? Even with their team, they still struggled against Hawkmoth’s onslaught. Their whole team was taken out in minutes! Maybe they needed some more experienced help and that’s why the Lucky Charm indicated that Robin should stay? God he hoped not.
But… they had no idea why Hawkmoth hadn’t pulled the stunt with releasing hundreds of akuma like that before. He might be able to repeat it, even just this short time later.
A pit opened in his stomach. That many akumas on a regular basis? Not only would it be incredibly difficult for him and Ladybug to deal with, but the city’s business would grind to a halt. Usually akumas were at least SOMEWHAT localized, so that while one corner of the city was impacted, most of it was left unscathed. Wasn’t always the case, but usually.
With Scarlet Moth attacking on a regular basis? It would make things a LOT more difficult. People had gotten pretty good at bouncing back, but they had limits to how quickly they could resume business-as-usual after having dodged akumas or been turned into mind-controlled puppets or frozen or knocked out or whatever.
Or perhaps… Batman was sometimes referred to as “The World’s Greatest Detective”. Maybe Robin had inherited some of his investigative prowess? He and Ladybug didn’t even know where to begin in tracking Hawkmoth down, maybe he’d have a better idea? He dealt with some more regular, police-grade crimes in Gotham after all.
He rolled back in his chair, sighing. Well, not much use speculating. He didn’t even know how to find Robin right now anyway. Hopefully the Lucky Charm’s meaning would become obvious later – if not to him, then to Ladybug.
A hand clamped over his mouth and nose, smothering him with some kind of cloth. Reflexively he struggled, attempting to break free. Unfortunately, struggling required oxygen. Which required breathing. Which meant inhaling whatever substance the cloth was covered in...
As his head swam dizzily, he distantly felt his ring be removed.
NO! Plagg…
He had to…
He… had to…
He…
...
…
…
Wha-?
Something was in his lap.
Something large.
And warm.
And soft.
Blearily, Adrien cracked open his eyes.
A twin pigtailed head pressed against his chest, face buried in his shirt.
Oh.
This must be a dream.
He pulled Ladybug slightly closer. She moaned and snuggled up to him even more, pushing herself even further into his lap.
As she adjusted, he caught sight of her face and clothing.
Ah.
So Marinette was Ladybug.
Well that explained his weird feelings towards her.
He put an arm around her, holding her close, tucking her beneath his neck.
He frowned as her pigtails dug into him, but was unwilling to dislodge her.
Maribug whined slightly, turning her head upwards and blinking up at him, eyes half-lidded.
“Oh, it’s Adrien,” she mumbled, before laying her head flush against his chest again.
He purred in response.
“Mm…? Kitty…?” she murmured. “Oh... Adrien is Chat… that makes sense”
He purred harder. He’d dreamed of them finding out each other’s identities many times before, but this? This was his new favorite.
“Hey Adrichat,” she mumbled against his chest. “Did you know I love you? I’ve wanted to tell you so many times, but I never could. Get a hamster with me?”
He smiled. Yep, DEFINITELY a dream, but damn it was a good one. No way was he this lucky. She even wanted a pet hamster like he did!
“Of course, milady.” He yawned. “We’ll… we’ll name it-“
“You’re awake. FINALLY,” a boy’s voice called, tinged with exasperation.
Adrien frowned. Nope, he did not want to wake up right now. His sweet little Maribug was cuddled in his arms and she’d just confirmed that she loved him. School could wait. Photoshoots could wait. AKUMAS could wait. He just wanted to be with her, even if this was just a figment of his imagination. At least let him have this!
Evidently Maribug agreed. She cracked open one eye again, glaring at the boy – Robin apparently, Adrien guessed that his subconscious had wanted to work in the encounter from earlier in the day – and she glared at him as ferociously as was possible while half-asleep and cuddled in a boy’s arms.
“No.” she stated firmly. “Adrichat cuddles now. Wake up later.”
Robin let out a frustrated grunt. “You two are ALREADY awake. Now get up, I have important information for both of you.”
Well this figment of Adrien’s imagination was persistent. Really though, did his mind think it could fool itself? …Maybe shouldn’t think about that too hard.
“Nuh uh,” Adrien said, lips pursed in a pout, then turned his attention back to Maribug. Ah, she smelled like cookies. How had he never noticed before that Marinette and Ladybug had the same scent? …Then again, he didn’t get a lot of chances to smell Marinette. That would be weird. And in the waking world maybe they DIDN’T share a scent.
After all, just because Marinette was Ladybug in the dream world, that didn’t mean they really were the same person in reality.
He frowned. He really, REALLY wished this dream was true.
“I did not knock you out this hard,” Robin said.
Adrien ignored the manifestation of his responsibilities that had apparently taken Robin’s form. Dammit, he could get up LATER, he could survive being late to school, Plagg could survive waiting a little bit longer for cheese, whatever the reason a portion of his mind was trying to get him to stop cuddling with the love of his life, it could wait..
As her pigtails collided with his neck again, Maribug’s eyes drooped slightly open. “Hair ties,” she mumbled quietly. “Take off.” She attempted to raise an arm towards her head, but dropped it after only getting it a few inches off the ground, evidently too exhausted to do more than that.
She wanted her hair ties out? Well, who was Adrien to refuse?
Luckily he didn’t have to move his arm as far as she did. It meant temporarily shifting his right arm so that he was no longer fully cuddling her with it, but it was a small sacrifice to heed His Lady’s request.
Slowly he worked one of her hair ties out of her hair, then shifted again to reach the other one. It took a bit of work, but he managed it.
“That’s it, you two are getting up,” Robin growled, starting towards them.
Both Maribug and Adrien let out unhappy noises, Maribug cracking open her eyes temporarily to join Adrien in death-glaring him.
Robin didn’t get very far. The girl next to him caught Robin by the arm. Oh yeah, there was a girl there. Had she always been there, or did Adrien’s mind insert her just now and pretended that she’d always been there? Oh who cared, it was all a dream anyway
“Wait, maybe hold off on getting them up just yet?” she pleaded.
Adrien silently cheered. YES, his mind must have created a counterpart to push back against the manifestation of his responsibilities, one that didn’t require him to stop cuddling with his little bug!
He glanced down at her, snuggled up in his arms. His eyes blew open.
Her hair poofed out from both sides of her head, finally free of the hair ties’ confinement. Gently, he ran his fingers through her hair, the silky smooth strands easily slipping between his fingers. Maribug closed her eyes and snuggled up even closer to him, making a small noise of contentment.
He HAD to be dreaming – no way beauty this radiant could exist in the real world. Though if it could, of course Maribug would possess it.
“Why should I?” Adrien heard Robin say belligerently. He paid him no mind. Hopefully that girl would stop him, and if not, he wanted to enjoy what little time he had in this fantasy while he could. “We should do this as quickly as possible.”
The girl – Adrien vaguely remembered fighting her that afternoon, he guessed that his mind was trying to compensate for that by making her into his defender – let out a loud sigh. “Look they’re pretty exhausted, especially Marinette. They’re gonna be useless until they get some more rest anyway, and they need to be at the top of their game for what comes next. Waking them up now is going to cause us to need to delay more.”
Robin was silent for a moment, then grunted. “FINE. Two hours, and then they’re getting up if I have to hang them upside down from a building.”
Adrien silently cheered. He could stay snuggled with Maribug forever, but he could make do with two more hours.
His eyes started drooping once more. He rested his head against hers and slipped back into unconsciousness.
…
…
…
Adrien blinked his eyes open. That had been a NICE nap. He’d needed that. Such a nice dream too, he’d have to write that one down!
Wait.
He didn’t remember going to bed.
Looking around, he processed his surroundings.
It looked like he was high up, open sky above him.
Rooftop. I’m on a rooftop.
It seemed an awful lot like his dream.
This weight on his chest…
He glanced down, his heart skipping a beat
Marinette lay against his chest, snuggling up with him just like in the dream, her long, unrestrained hair running down her back.
It wasn’t a dream.
…It wasn’t a dream.
IT. WAS. NOT. A. DREAM.
His heart went from skipping to jackhammering.
In his dream, Marinette was Ladybug.
In his dream, she’d figured out that he was Chat Noir.
In his dream, she’d loved him. Had for awhile.
And this wasn’t a dream.
Mouth dry, he nudged her. “Ladybug?”
“Mm?” she blinked up at him groggily. “What?”
She glanced around.
Processed for three seconds.
Then jumped up.
“Wait, WHERE- WHAT- HOW did we get here?! What’s going on! Last thing I remember…”
She froze. Her voice went up an octave. In a strained voice she asked, “That dream… where you were Chat Noir and we were going to get a hamster together… that wasn’t a dream, was it?”
He stifled a laugh. “Afraid not, Milady.”
The noise that came out of her mouth wasn’t something he’d ever heard emerge from a human’s mouth before, just this weird shriek-groan-chirruping-laugh mix.
Huh. Maybe that was like a noise that ladybugs would make when translated to human? Not like he hadn’t made his share of cat noises. His purring was what gave him away, after all.
And then it kept on going. And going.
She had an impressive set of lungs.
“Are… you okay?” he asked hesitantly. He’d been thrilled when he realized that she was Ladybug, but not surprised. She’d always reminded him a bit of Ladybug, and his calling her an “Everyday Ladybug” a few weeks ago was just him acknowledging that.
As soon as it crossed his mind in the not-dream, everything just clicked.
To an outsider it might seem like Marinette and Ladybug were pretty different, but being close to her on both sides of the mask, Adrien knew differently.
Marinette came off as shy, hesitant, and anxious a lot of the time – and that wasn’t wrong.
Ladybug stood as a brave, shining icon to confidence, heroism, and ingenuity, standing up to Hawkmoth and telling him “No, you’re wrong!” When she promised to protect Paris, she said it with such confidence that one couldn’t help but believe in her. She could take the most mundane object and turn it into the centerpiece of an insane plan, plans that honestly made his head hurt just trying to figure out how she came up with them.
But Marinette could ALSO be confident, heroic, and ingenious. He still remembered when she helped to take down Evillustrator-
Oh. So THAT was the secret mission Ladybug was on. No wonder she couldn’t tell him.
Marinette had helped save them both, figuring out how to use his staff to free them both from the akuma’s imprisonment. She’d taken charge and won the class election with a rousing speech, and DAMN had she stepped up to the plate as Class President. Without her, Marc and Nathaneal may never have gotten together, much less have merged their talents to create a comic book for everyone to enjoy. Without her, Chloe might never have reconciled with her mother..
But while he KNEW how awesome Marinette was, in and out of the mask, he also knew how vulnerable she could be. Those first two days as Ladybug she seemed unsure of herself, of what she was doing and whether she was good enough. And a few days ago during Heroes Day, she’d doubted for a moment about whether they could win when faced with such daunting odds.
He knew the Hero of Paris, the Class President who always had a solution for everything… but he knew the girl beneath those too. She could get upset, angry, sad, and be uncertain. They’d laughed, cried, and commiserated together when things went wrong.
Come to think of it… when she was talking about heartbreak as Marinette, and telling him about the boy she loved as Ladybug… while half-asleep she’d mumbled about how she was in love with him, had tried to tell him so many times.
He- he was the boy she loved?
The boy she kept turning him down for… was himself?
He let out a groan. Plagg must’ve been laughing his furry little butt off about this.
Wait… where was Plagg?
He glanced down at his hands.
His ring was missing.
Oh no. Oh GOD no.
“MILADY!” he cried out, half-panicked.
That broke her out of the strange frozen-shrieking state she’d been in for the past minute.
“Cha- Adri- whatever I call you, WHAT? I don’t think I can handle any more surprises! I still haven’t wrapped my brain around this one!”
He’d love to oblige her. He really would. But… “Marinette… where are your earrings?”
Her pupils shrank, her eyes bulging out. Her hands flew to her ears.
There was nothing but smooth skin.
“NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!” she yelled, growing higher-pitched and more panicked with every word. “HAWKMOTH MUST’VE KIDNAPPED US AND HE HAS BOTH MIRACULOUS AND HE’LL MAKE THE WISH AND TAKE OVER THE WORLD!”
Maybe he would. Maybe he wouldn’t. But right now, his partner, his closest friend, the love of his life and the most amazing person he’d ever known was his first priority.
Stepping towards her, he wrapped her in a hug, squeezing her tightly. She tensed for a moment, then relaxed, hugging him back. He rubbed circles on her back in the hopes that the stimulation would calm her down further. He hated seeing her in distress.
“The world hasn’t been destroyed yet,” he mumbled into her hair. “That means we still have a chance. And even without your Miraculous, you’re incredible, milady. Between the two of us, we’ll figure it out. Just you and me against the world.”
She gave a little choking-sobbing laugh, but at least she WAS laughing now. They’d be alright. As bad a situation as it was, they were together and free. And together? Together there wasn’t a force on the world that could stop them.
“You two are the most sickly sweet couple I have ever seen,” a boy’s voice said.
Adrien and Marinette’s heads whipped around to face the voice. Robin stood in front of them, arms crossed, looking grumpy.
So business as usual then.
Wait… Robin had been in his dream. At the time he thought that he was a figment of his imagination, but if the REST of it was real…
Marinette evidently had the same thought. “What are you doing here?” she asked suspiciously.
Robin glared at her. “I acquired both you and Chat because I came across some important information. But both of you just REFUSED to wake up. Seriously, it’s been two hours, how were you still that out of it?! I know I dosed Adrien correctly at least.”
A girl materialized beside him. Like, actually materialized. One moment there was empty space, and the next the girl who’d been with Robin when they’d met before just kind of appeared. Maybe she could turn invisible? Either that or teleport. “Hey! I dosed Marinette correctly too! They must just have been really, REALLY tired.”
“YOU TWO WERE THE ONES WHO KIDNAPPED US?!” Marinette exploded. “WHY- HOW- THAT’S TERRIBLE!”
Adrien tensed beside Marinette. She seemed to be handling the yelling-at-Robin bit fine on her own, but if she needed protecting, he had to be ready. He wasn’t sure what he could do against Robin and his friend without powers, but he had to try. No way was he letting her get hurt. Not when he could prevent it.
Robin seemed unfazed. “It didn’t harm you. You’re both fine. You two need more training though. I expected at least a LITTLE resistance, but neither of you managed to lay a hand on either me or Ducard. It was pretty pathetic.”
Adrien hissed. Calling him pathetic? He didn’t like it, but fine. His father had implied it often enough. He was used to it. Calling MARINETTE pathetic? No.
Marinette’s eyes widened in realization. “Wait… you were the ones who kidnapped us… WHAT DID YOU DO WITH PLAGG AND TIKKI?!”
Robin blinked. “Plagg and Tikki? I’m guessing those are the small beings that were hanging around you two. I haven’t done anything to them. They disappeared when I took your Miraculous.”
“GIVE. THEM. BACK,” he and Marinette growled in unison.
Damian opened one hand, showing them the Ladybug earrings and the Black Cat ring.
The boy gave a shit-eating grin. “You want them back? Show me what you’ve got.”
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I remember when writing this chapter, I went "Okay, how can I have Damian meet up with both Adrien and Marinette and facilitate an identity reveal without either of them protesting or getting out of it? And what would this whole conversation with them be like here? How would he persuade them to come with him?" And I was stuck.
Then I remembered how he assembled the Teen Titans. By tazing, gassing, or otherwise knocking out each of them, kidnapping them, and stringing them up in the restraining device from The Incredibles (no, seriously. I checked. It's identical, from the wheels on the side, to the lightning arcing everywhere, to the sphere constraints around to the hands, to even the electrocution capabilities if the prisoners get too feisty.)
So I went "that works!". But with something a lot less severe, since
A. such severe measures weren't needed, with them being ordinary civilians without their Miraculous. They weren't gonna escape super easily.
and
B. I wasn't gonna do that to either of them. I didn't want someone who was supposed to be "good" to hurt them, plus they probably wouldn't be willing to work with him at ALL if he really hurt their partner.
Yeah, I love Damian, but there's a reason he has a reputation as a jerk. He's just not JUST a jerk, there's a lot more to him, especially when you look into his reasons and mentality.
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Manifesto prompt : that meeting goes as well as a truce negociation during the war of independance in Scotland 500 years ago
I thought they might yell at each other, but in the end they seemed to settle for sarcasm and cold hostility *shrugs*
[AO3]
x
Sutherland eyed her for a moment, then pushed himself upright, gesturing to the side where a tray sat, containing a teapot and taller pot of coffee, two cups and saucers, milk jug and sugar bowl.
“Can I offer you some tea, Miss French?” he asked. “Or perhaps some coffee? They just brought it in before you came.”
“Thank you. Tea, please.”
He nodded, and poured a cup for her, setting it on the table and pushing the milk jug and sugar towards her. Belle added milk and stirred, setting the spoon in the saucer.
“I trust you made it to the hotel without incident,” he added, as he poured coffee for himself. “The press can be rather - intrusive - I find. Have they been bothering you?”
“I had to lock the library doors to keep them out,” she said flatly, and a tiny smile twisted the corners of his mouth.
“Well, that’s notoriety for you,” he said lightly. “Try being in Government.”
“I have no desire for more press scrutiny, thanks,” she said.
“I very much doubt they’ll be going anywhere until we move on,” he said. “You should try not to let it bother you. It’ll blow over in a few days.”
“You hope, right?”
Sutherland gave her a brief, side-long look, and stirred his coffee, tapping the spoon on the edge of the cup.
“Please, take a seat,” he said. “You’ll find the couch quite comfortable.”
“I prefer to have this discussion here,” said Belle, slipping the satchel from her shoulder onto the table and opening it up.
“As you wish,” he said, with a tiny shrug.
He took a seat opposite her and leaned on his elbows, threading his fingers together. He had long fingers, with clean, manicured nails. Nice hands and nice eyes. Belle pressed her lips together, and turned her attention to the contents of her satchel, trying to gather her thoughts. She pulled out the folder she had brought, setting it in front of her, and took a drink of tea. It was hot, and she winced, setting the cup down. It rattled in the saucer, and she realised her hands were shaking. Squaring her jaw, she clutched the edges of the folder, trying to think of what to say. Sutherland was looking supremely calm, and it only made her more nervous. He raised an eyebrow.
“Well,” he said. “I came up here to give the public some good news. To celebrate a local success story. You appear to have derailed that somehow.”
“Sorry I ruined your photo-opp with some hard truths.”
“Are you?”
“Not really.”
Sutherland sucked his teeth, eyeing her cautiously, as though she was a wild creature that he was unsure how to handle. Good, be wary, she thought. Corner me and I’ll bite.
“Might I ask why the library is closing?”
“Because the Council doesn’t have enough money,” she said. “Or - or at least they do, but they’ve decided to spend it elsewhere. The new bypass, for one.”
“Which will undoubtedly provide the town with much-needed infrastructure,” he said. “It’s a long-term investment for the good of all.”
“You think education and literacy aren’t?”
Sutherland didn’t answer, reaching for his coffee and taking a sip.
“How long have you been running the library?”
“Three years, give or take.”
“You must have gotten to know Avonleigh’s residents fairly well in that time.”
“I like to think so.”
“I suppose the library used to be sort of a focal point, in towns like this,” he added. “I remember going to one as a child in my own home town.”
“That’s how I’ve tried to run it,” said Belle.
“Of course, things change over time,” he went on. “People take in information in different ways these days, and technology makes a lot of the old ways redundant, but that doesn’t mean libraries can’t move with the times, does it?”
Belle felt her eyes narrow.
“There’s still value in the printed word,” she said. “And technology’s only useful when you have access to it.”
“Which most people do these days.”
“Most isn’t all, is it?”
“So the majority of your patrons are the elderly and unemployed, I presume?” he asked. “Well, we certainly want to ensure the continued provision of excellent services for disadvantaged groups.”
“Which means what, exactly?” she said, and he gave her that politician’s smile again.
“Funding is allocated on the basis of need, with budgeting at a local level delegated to relevant authorities.”
She reached for her cup to give herself a chance to think, taking a sip and feeling intense relief when her hand remained steady.
“So you’re telling me the library closing is the Council’s fault,” she surmised. “Weird, they’re singing a different song.”
Sutherland spread his hands, as though trying to show how open he was being. It made her eyes narrow further.
“The Government wants to give local communities the final say in how they apportion taxpayer funds,” he said smoothly. “We prefer to relinquish central control and delegate spending decisions to those on the ground, who know how best to prioritise the needs of their people. It seems that in this case, from what you’ve told me, the need for a library was considered less important than other spending priorities.”
Belle stared at him for a moment, processing what she had just heard.
“That’s bullshit,” she said bluntly, and Sutherland’s brows drew down.
“Is there a problem?” he asked quietly, and Belle frowned.
“You’re basically trying to tell me this has nothing to do with you,” she said flatly. “But it’s central Government that controls funding, right?”
“We don’t set local authority rates or interfere in budgets.”
“Maybe not, but don’t try to tell me that’s the only source of funding those authorities get, because we both know that’s not true,” she said. “And we both also know that central Government has slashed payment to local authorities under your administration. Which leaves them short of funds.”
“Difficult decisions have had to be made.”
“Really?” Belle folded her arms. “Do you tell that to big business when it comes knocking?”
“You shouldn’t believe everything you read online, Miss French,” he said, in a bored voice.
“I’m well aware of that, don’t patronise me,” she said coldly. “Critical thinking’s something I teach in one of my after-school classes, I don’t need lessons in it from you.”
“Nor do I need lessons in the assessment of beneficial services,” he said, matching her tone.
“Then we both know where we stand, hmm?” she said. “Which begs the question: why ask me to come tonight?”
Sutherland pulled a face.
“I thought you wanted to use your new-found notoriety to discuss the fate of local libraries,” he said, looking irritated. “I thought it best that we start with a realistic assessment of the current status, that’s all. I’d hate you to have unrealistic expectations.”
“More bullshit,” she muttered under her breath, and Sutherland raised an eyebrow.
“Excuse me?”
Belle leaned on the table, watching his eyes flick up and down momentarily before fixing on hers.
“I think we both know that you’d rather not be speaking to me right now,” she said. “I have no doubt that it’s only due to the coverage of me yelling at you that you’ve decided you have to. This was as much of a press opportunity for you as it is for me.”
Sutherland frowned.
“I’ve made no secret of that.”
“So maybe we can stop with the fake concern, I’m tired,” she said coldly. “Don’t act like you care about the fate of this library or any other when it’s your Government destroying them!”
He sat back, tapping his fingers against the table top.
“Antagonising me won’t help your cause, Miss French,” he said. “I deal with more difficult people than you everyday. Most days three times before breakfast.”
“I don’t doubt it,” she said. “And I’m well aware that you’re the one with the power here. All I have is a voice, and the inability to shut the hell up and sit down when people tell me I should.”
His mouth twitched a little at that.
“I won’t deny that you’ve provided a - distraction - that we hadn’t anticipated,” he said. “But perhaps I would have reacted in the same way, were I in your position.”
“Except you never have been, have you?” she retorted. “I imagine you’ve never had to go without anything in your life, right? Never had people dismissing your opinion and shutting you down because of your gender or your colour or - or the fact that you’re poor or illiterate! You have no idea what it’s like to have nothing, do you?”
“Does that mean you think I stand no chance of making the right decisions regarding those that do have nothing?” he asked mildly. “By that rationale, no one with a job should be a public servant. Something of a contradiction, wouldn’t you agree?”
“That’s a prime example of reductio ad absurdum and you know it!”
She could feel her fury building, her hands tightening on the folder, and Sutherland sat back in his chair. His eyes were very dark in the light from the lamps around them, his skin warm-toned and his hair gleaming, flecks of gold and silver in amongst the brown. His forefinger was running across his mouth as he watched her, an unreadable expression on his face, the pad of his finger gently pressing against the soft fullness of his lower lip as it passed. For a moment of pure insanity she found herself wondering what it would feel like to kiss him, and she licked her lips, blinking rapidly. Good God, woman, get yourself together! You’re supposed to want to yell at him, not bang him senseless!
“Getting angry won’t help you make your point,” he said quietly. “It just means that I’m more likely to stop listening.”
“Did you have any intention of listening?”
Sutherland let his hand drop, and the tip of his tongue ran across his lower lip, making it glisten briefly.
“Would it surprise you if I said yes?”
Belle huffed in frustration.
“Wow, you politicians really love answering questions with more questions, huh?”
He smiled a little at that.
“Force of habit,” he said. “How about I ask you a question you want to answer. Exactly what is it that you want from me?”
Belle hesitated.
“I want to save my library,” she said simply. “And all other libraries in this country.”
“I’m afraid that’s out of my hands.”
“No it isn’t!” she insisted. “Not if you don’t want it to be! Unless you’re saying that the Prime Minister has less power than - than a local Council leader!”
Sutherland gave her a thin smile.
“I don’t even get paid as much as some of them,” he remarked. “If you’re trying to appeal to my ego, Miss French, you’re wasting your time.”
“This whole meeting’s been a waste of my time, it seems,” she said bitterly.
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” he said insincerely. “What’s in the folder you keep fondling?”
“Research,” she said stiffly. “Research I put together for my meetings with the Council. For all the good it did.”
“Leave it here, I’ll read it.”
Sure you will, she thought wryly, but tossed the folder across the table to him. Sutherland slapped a hand down on it, fingers pushing up onto their tips to hold it in place.
“Was there something else?” he asked.
“I - I could take you through the research, if you wanted,” she said.
“Much as you need no lessons in critical thinking, I need no help with reading a few documents,” he said coldly, and Belle felt her jaw clench.
“So this is you patting me on the head and telling me to be a good little girl and stop bothering you, is it?” she said, and he smirked at her.
“You’re more than capable of interpreting intent and meaning, I’m sure,” he said dryly. “I’ll get this back to you before I leave Avonleigh, Miss French.”
Belle hesitated, bouncing on her toes, and he continued to watch her with that flat, dark-eyed stare.
“If that’s all?” he said.
She realised that she had screwed up, that she had allowed her frustration to get the better of her, and that she had, no doubt, played right into his hands in doing so. God, she wanted to scream! She swallowed down the bitter words she wanted to spit at him, and raised her chin, trying for a calmness she didn’t feel.
“Thank you for agreeing to see me,” she said stiffly. “I’m sorry we couldn’t reach an agreement.”
“I’m sorry too.” He was already looking away, to where his empty coffee cup sat. “My Chief of Staff will see you out. Good evening, Miss French.”
He began pouring himself more coffee, not looking at her, and Belle wanted to stamp her foot. Turning on her heel, she headed for the door, frustration boiling over inside her.
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Independent and strong-willed, Sagittarius personalities are all about going off the beaten path. Sagittarius isn’t afraid to step away from the pack, and is a natural born leader who ( goes after what he or she wants ), regardless of what other people think. Sagittarius is a BORN ADVENTURER, and loves solo travel and exploration. Sagittarius also loves exploring the inner workings of their minds, and love stretching their horizons through a good book or movie. Sagittarius is open-hearted, generous, and BIG-SPIRITED, but Sagittarius is always ( t r u t h f u l ). Because of this, they may hurt others’ feelings, or may be called out for not having tact or empathy. The latter is not true. With their keen imagination, Sagittarius is adept at putting themselves in another person’s shoes, but they DO NOT feel the need to beat around the bush or lie. You can trust a Sagittarius to tell you what they really think. You can also trust a Sagittarius, period. Unlike other signs — they won’t spill any secrets.
THE SUN ( SAGITTARIUS ): Your style, your life purpose, your destiny…
What is your character’s drive like and what fuels them? Cam hasn’t always been a hard worker, but she was raised in a situation where she had to become an adult very quickly, raising their two younger brothers considering their parents couldn’t. Albeit very lazy at times, she was pushed by the owner of She Loves Me and eventually fell in love with the entire trade. She might not be a morning person, but the flower shop is the only reason she’s excited to wake up at that time each and every morning. Having security is what is most important to her, and she never wants to rely on anyone EVER for that.
What is most obvious about your character? She’s blunt as hell, and speaks her mind often without thinking about what comes out of her mouth, or even softening the blow. Cam is also very protective of her family and close friends, and exudes a quiet confidence unmatched by many. Don’t cross her, for she loses her temper quite easily.
Who and what kind of people does your character surround themselves with? Family, and friends she considers family. Cam also cannot stand dishonest people, or people who are inconsiderate, so she’ll rarely have time for people like this.
THE ASCENDING ( SCORPIO ): How the world sees you…
In a public setting, would your character be easy to adapt or hesitant wherever they are? Easily adept. Like a Scorpio, she blazes her own trail no matter what others think, and rarely, if ever, cares about what anyone in the town thinks of her. Cam has learned not to allow herself to be affected by town gossip, knowing her family used to be the very centre of it growing up. She does her own thing, and is in some ways a little intimidating at times.
Is your character an extrovert or an introvert? An extrovert, through and through, though she has introvert qualities like enjoying one’s own company more often than not.
What qualities do you think people first see in your character? Her passion, her bluntness, her fight to be authentic. She also appears very closed off, which might very well be the case sometimes but, she’s very in tune with her emotions, and sees a lot more than she lets off.
THE MOON ( TAURUS ): Your habits, reactions, and instincts…
What moment does your character relive, either consciously or unconsciously? Moments in her childhood, though. she’d much rather forget the entirety of it.
How does your character (negatively or positively) adapt to life experience? Quite well. She’s had it rough, so she’s used to tough situations but rarely allows herself to be in any compromising situations. Like a Taurus, she has an intense internal drive and sometimes has trouble respecting authority and isn’t always flexible to different situations. She kind of, does what she wants and is hella stubborn about it.
What facts would your characters conceal? Anything to do with her past. She never speaks about it to anyone, aside from the offhand comment about her parents or childhood.. or how she was dealt a crappy hand. But, speaking about different situations in her past is a no go. Cam would prefer to look forward. Also, she’d rather not allow people to know how soft she is inside, how much she feels in terms of emotions.. it’s almost like the exterior is a defence mechanism.
THE VENUS ( PISCES ): Your attractions, and your love life…
What kind of hobbies does your character have and why do they enjoy them? Reading books sometimes, if she gets the time. Going out with friends, watching a movie on netflix and practicing self care.. she doesn’t really have a lot of ‘hobbies’ per say, but.. she does head to dance glass and enjoys yoga and boxing. She used to be quite the dancer in high school, but it’s fizzled over time and with a little something called fate and destiny getting in the way.
What does your character find attractive, either in people or in their own possessions? Honest people. Genuine people. People who have charm of some sort. And. she certainly likes a little banter. She’s not one for any materialistic possessions, but she does appreciate what she’s worked for and likes to splurge sometimes.
How does your character (negatively or positively) show their love or demonstrate their affection? She can come across as quite cold to some, but shows her love in the way she’s there for those around her at the drop of a hat. Cam is also very generous, and would do and give anything to help her brothers or her friends.. even a kind stranger. She has a soft spot for the kinder townsfolk.
How does your character fall in love? Do they jump into relationships, or take slow, measured steps? Describe their behaviors and actions, if you’d like. SLOW MEASURED STEPS, if anything! She never jumps into relationships, and truthfully, hasn’t had a long term relationship since her younger days. She dates sometimes (by dating, we mean one or two), she has one night stands, but nothing eventuates into more than that. She’s very hesitant about all things commitment, considering her parents marriage represents everything she feels about relationships. She’d much rather jump into bed and hop on out.
THE MARS ( LEO ): Your strifes, temperament, and passions…
What does your character want with every fiber of their being? To continue to grow her business, and never stop being happy with her career. To be loved. She’ll never admit it, and won’t even allow herself to get in a commitment situation.
What will your characters do to get what they want? How far will they go? To get what she wants on a day to day basis? She’ll practically do anything. However, she won’t ever screw another person unless they screw her.. and even then, she usually has it on her good conscience not to do so.
What makes your character see red? What makes their blood boil? When her friends or family are hurt by another person, or when people are rude and inconsiderate, she’ll see red. People who are bigoted.
On a symbolic level, what battles has your character lost and what wounds have they suffered? All wounds and suffering pertain to her parents and her childhood, the lack of choices she was given. She hasn’t really allowed herself to be in any situation, as an adult, that risks suffering.. Cam feels she’s had enough of that for a lifetime. She keeps her circle small and close.
#mystic: task#this was harder than i freakin' remember#BUT GOOD ALSO#pls dont @ her for not driving her car properly
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FIC: Smoke and Mirrors - Chapter 5
Title: Smoke and Mirrors
Fandom: SWTOR
Pairing: Theron Shan/f!Jedi Knight
Rating: T
Genre: Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn
Synopsis: Something’s rotten on Carrick Station, and Theron won’t rest until he finds out what. But picking at the frayed threads of suspicion quickly unravels a conspiracy much larger than even the Republic’s top spy can handle on his own. (A mostly canon-compliant retelling of the Forged Alliances storyline, as seen through the eyes of Theron Shan.)
Author’s Notes and Spoilers: See Chapter 1.
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Crossposted to AO3 | Chapter 6
So while on the side of annoying, apparently Darok’s habit of repeating a battle plan until everyone could recite it in their sleep worked. Or maybe the strategy that the colonel and Jace had come up with was just that solid, because everything went off exactly as outlined. As much as Theron hated to admit it, it was a refreshing change of pace. The way things tended to go in the intelligence world, he tended to have to fall back on Plan Forn, or more probably more accurately, Plan “Frak”, since that word seemed to be uttered a lot under his breath.
The first wave of the attack caught the Imperials completely off guard, and the strike team was able to establish a landing zone with almost no casualties.
A holographic image of Korriban shimmered into life on part of the table as the holocam on the other end came online. The distance between the Core Worlds and Imperial Space meant the connection was weaker, and combined with interference from scrambling signals on the ground caused the image to flicker more than usual. Theron had seen holos of the Sith homeworld before, but it was somehow different watching from a live feed. Not quite like being there, but close enough. Their view from the holocam caught the wide desert expanse, the silhouettes of immense statues looming in the distance. The drop zone was situated perfectly on a high edge overlooking the Wilds, giving him and Darok a wide view of the stretch that the strike team would have to traverse to reach the Sith Academy.
Theron glanced over to another projection on the table, mapping out the approximate position of Wave Two. They were about to come out of hyperspace. He keyed his comm to the frequency he’d set for his communications with Highwind. It was showtime.
“—I’m aware how this could be difficult.” The transmission cut in in the middle of the Highwind’s sentence. Her voice was pitched low, probably in an attempt to keep her conversation quiet. “If you want to stay here, I understand.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Another female voice volleyed back. “I’m not letting you go into that place alone.”
“Kira,” Highwind’s concerned tone lightened with a trace of amusement, “how can I be alone with the rest of our crew and these soldiers?”
Ah, Kira Carsen. Jedi Knight and Highwind’s former Padawan and longtime partner. Her name had threaded through the dossier nearly as much as her master’s. Theron had found it a little odd that she was still part of the Defender’s crew this many years after her knighting, but he supposed that saving the galaxy from annihilation on a semi-regular basis formed tight bonds.
“You know what I mean,” Kira continued. “This place… it’s worse than Dromund Kaas. You can feel the Dark Side in every step you take here.”
“We’ll be fine,” Highwind assured her companion. “After all, I have everyone here, as well as eyes and ears on Carrick Station to guide me through.”
“How reassuring.”
“I’ve been told that they have a map.”
“Oh good, a map. That will keep a Sith from stabbing you in the back with a lightsaber.”
Despite himself, Theron found himself having to purse his lips together to keep from smirking. Apparently this Kira had a bit of a mouth on her. This was probably a good moment for him to speak up, to keep from listening in on what was becoming clear had been meant to be a private conversation, but he was curious to see where this was going.
“I highly doubt anyone will get that close,” came the serene reply, and Theron was pretty sure he heard a snort on the other end of the line.
“That’s some map you’ve got there.”
“I would think you’d know the difference between directions and the Force at this point, Kira.”
“Oh, so you’re not going to use the Force to magically guide you to the Dark Council chambers? Which, lovely vacation spot by the way, Boss. You should always plan our team building exercises. You keep things so exciting.”
“I didn’t plan this particular excursion,” the reply came out only the slightest edge of consternation. “You can thank the military and SIS for this trip.”
“Oh, the SIS, they always take us to the most fun places. Think we’ll have to fight off any Rakata-tech zombies this time?”
“I didn’t ask.”
“Well, what kind of briefing doesn’t mention zombies?”
“Perhaps I should check, if it’s that important.” If Theron’s ears didn’t deceive him, he thought he heard the slightest trace of impatience lacing through that deceptively serene tone. There was a soft beep in his ear as she attempted to establish connection on her side. “Theron, are you there?”
“Yes,” he said, miraculously managing to keep his tone neutral.
“Do you think we’ll encounter any zombies during our stay here?”
“No, I think you’ll be fine,” he said, pursing his lips together to keep from laughing. “You’ll probably just have to deal with an endless horde of angry Sith. No zombies though.”
“I’m sure everyone will rest easier knowing that.”
Darok shot him a look. “I hope you’re taking this seriously, Agent Shan.”
“Bite me,” was what Theron almost said. Instead he just shot the colonel the most sarcasticly polite smile he could muster. “I’m always serious, Darok.”
The colonel narrowed his eyes, face set in a deep frown. For a moment, it almost seemed like he was going to say something, before he turned back to the holodisplay of Korriban.
“I apologize if I caused you any problems,” Highwind said. Her tone was so placid, he honestly couldn’t tell if she was being sincere or sarcastic.
“Nothing to worry about,” he said smoothly, watching as the ship exited hyperspace, and made for a fast and rough landing on the planet’s surface.
“Who’s Theron?” Kira asked.
The ship shuddered and came to a hard stop on the ground, the echoes of the rough landing sounding over the earpiece. He would have turned the volume on his side down, but he was waiting to hear if the reply contained any mention of the Grand Master, or if Highwind had more discretion than that.
“He’s with the SIS.”
“Oh, really? Is he sure about the zombie thing, because Fauler conveniently left that out on our grand adventure on Tatooine too.”
This time he did hear an exhalation of breath, and it was definitely on the annoyed side. “Have I mentioned that you can stay on the shuttle if you want to?”
On the holocam feed, Highwind’s small figure emerged from the pod, the desert breeze kicking up her cape into the face of the man behind her. He batted it away as she continued to survey the area.
“Hey, gorgeous, you ever think about dressing for the climate?” Ah, that must have been Kimble, the medic.
“I see nothing wrong with the way I’m dressed, Doc,” she said primly, “especially considering what we’re up against.”
“Yeah, about that… are you really serious? Wasn’t that fun trip on Dromund Kaas enough?”
“I’m not forcing anyone to come along. You can all stay on the shuttle if you prefer.”
“Please tell me she’s joking.” Kimble—or rather Doc apparently—seemed to be directing that comment to the rest of the crew emerging from the shuttle.
“Apparently not,” Kira’s voice drifted back.
“You all talk too much.” The imposing figure of a Pureblood Sith strode out from the shuttle, not seeming to notice that Doc had to dodge out of the way. “If you did not wish to come you should have not left Carrick Station.”
“Thank you, Scourge,” Highwind said airily.
“You’re taking his side?”
“No,” her tone sounded a little strained, “but I was the one who agreed to this mission in the middle of our rest time. It’s understandable if you’d rather relax rather than—”
“You are impossible,” Doc’s voice sounded aggrieved. “Please back me up on this, Kira.”
“Okay, I’ll give you that.”
“Master Jedi, if we leave these two here we should achieve a 3.07% increase in efficiency by lack of complaining.”
“No one asked you, Rusk!”
“Welcome to Korriban,” Theron said loudly, feeling a slight thrill of satisfaction when he saw Highwind jump ever so slightly on the holocam feed. “Enjoying the view?”
“Ready to get started,” she said, and he was pretty sure by the way she looked at each member of her crew that she was giving them some sort of silent rebuke. “What’s the situation?”
“Well,” he said casually, “Wave One managed to soften the Imps up some, but there’s still a lot of ground to cover.”
“How far is the Sith Academy?”
“See that big structure off in the distance?”
“You mean the giant pyramid dominating the horizon—yes. It’s a bit hard to miss.”
“That’s where you’re headed. Just… a bit of a walk to get there. You’ll have to cross the Wilds before you enter the Valley of the Dark Lords. And probably a few of said dark lords on the way.”
Theron heard an intake of breath as Kira stepped in closer to her Master. “Those are some unhappy Sith. This isn’t going to be easy.”
“No,” Highwind agreed quietly, “but that hasn’t stopped us before.”
“Good luck,” Theron intoned. “I’ll be in touch.”
He muted his mic, and toned down the volume on her feed so that he could monitor the chatter on this end a little better. Darok watched as Highwind, her crew, as well as their backup squad began to make their way down the cliffside towards the long expanse separating them from the Academy.
The static view from the holocam wasn’t perfect, but it was the best they could do until the strike team could reach a data node and Theron could get some hooks into the Academy’s systems. Another wave of fighters raced overhead, dropping another round of bombs that kicked up debris and so much dirt into the air the visual was obscured for several long seconds. He heard the hiss of a lightsaber being activated over his auditory feed, and turned it down as it quickly descended into a deafening cacophony as the strike team engaged with resistance on the ground.
The dust began to clear on their visual feed, revealing the battle raging in the valley below. Their teams were hardly distinguishable specks from the distance, and from the hazy image it was almost impossible to tell their people apart from the enemy. Except for one caped figure, whirling around faster than humanly possible.
She leapt to and fro, twin violet blades twirling almost as if she were in a dance. She cut through the swathes of enemies as if she were parting water, cape whipping behind her. The rest of her team moved around her in sync, filling in the gaps in each other’s defenses like it had been choreographed beforehand. They quickly gained ground, the commanders of the Imperial ground resistance falling one-by-one. It was almost mesmerizing in its own way.
He didn’t realize he’d been watching quite so intently, or quite so long, until he heard Darok mutter next to him. “You ever seen anything like that?”
Theron had seen Jedi fight, he himself had gone toe-to-toe with members of the Dark Council and lived to tell the tale. But even from a distance, he could tell that what they were witnessing was in a class all of its own. “No.”
“There’s more to that one than first glance.”
For probably the first time since they met, Darok and Theron could agree wholeheartedly on something.
The strike team passed out of view as they ducked through a canyon, and Theron resumed monitoring their progress from one of the GPS on the sketchy Korriban map. A quick visual report from one of Darok’s pilots confirmed more resistance ahead that they were going to have to cut through. Without a visual to back them up, Darok and Theron were both left to monitoring their other various feeds.
He paced the room, listening to the distant echoes of blaster fire and lightsabers clashing over the comm. There was the occasional bit of chatter from her team that drifted through, but Highwind remained quiet other than directing the way or a quick order sent to her crew or Darok’s men that were trailing behind in the path they were forging.
Theron kept an eye on the chrono, the ever-present countdown to their closing window lurking in the back of his mind. They were making good progress, honestly, faster than he had expected. Although, he wasn’t sure exactly what he had been expecting from all of this, but after witnessing the impressive display of combat skills earlier, it hadn’t been that.
The distinctive hum of her lightsaber disappeared with a swish as she deactivated it, and for a moment, there was almost silence on the other end. The lack of noise itself was almost deafening in its own way. Then there was something soft, like a voice in the distance. Next to him he saw Darok’s normal stony expression descend into a frown, and he dialed up the volume on his feed to listen in.
“We need to keep moving—”
“Your armor—you’re with the Republic aren’t you? Please, you must help us!”
The desperate cry barely registered over the sound of boots crunching on the rocky gravel. It was hard to believe that such a small woman could make so much noise as she was walking.
“Look, I’m sorry, okay? That’s not why we’re here.” It was the voice of one of Darok’s men, the lieutenant. “We’re not here to hurt you, I promise. Just… try to keep your heads down, all right?”
The heavy footfalls stopped, and he heard Highwind speak. Although it wasn’t with the quiet exasperation she had used with her crew earlier, but the same tone that she had used when she was sizing up Darok earlier. “What’s going on?”
“That’s what I’d like to know,” Darok muttered, clearly irritated with the delay. “Why have you stopped, Bickell?”
“Got a whole mess of slaves here.” The conflict in the lieutenant’s tone was audible even through the earpiece. “As much as I wish we could do something for them, we can’t. There’s no time.”
“There’s always time,” Highwind said without hesitation, conviction ringing clear in her tone.
“But this op is strictly smash-and-grab. We could risk the whole mission if we pull them out!”
“We can’t leave them behind, Lieutenant.”
“But our orders—”
“Are to secure my retreat, which you have done admirably.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Do whatever it takes—just get them out of here.”
“Shan,” Darok practically snarled, “get a handle on your Jedi! Now.”
Theron glowered at the taller man, for a few long moments thinking of a few ways to knock a little air out of the windbag standing next to him. He managed to wrangle his irritation, as he always did, and shove it deep down as he unmuted his mic.
“Hey there,” he said, the annoyance still simmering just beneath the surface, and possibly leaking into his tone.
“Theron,” she returned, “what’s going on?”
“I was about to ask the same thing. You do remember that this is an extraction mission, not a rescue operation, don’t you?”
“It can be both.”
“And if you send Bickell and the others back, who’s going to secure your retreat?”
“I’ll figure something out,” she said confidently.
He pressed his lips into a thin line as Darok let out a loud snort. Apparently Bickell’s mic was picking up her reply well enough for him to hear. He shut his eyes briefly, gathering the fraying threads of his patience together.
“No one deserves this, Theron,” she said. Although her mic still picked up her voice clearly, from softness in her tone, she had dropped it as if she was trying to talk to just him. “You know how the Empire treats slaves—especially the Sith. Tell me you wouldn’t do the same thing if you were here.”
He wanted to tell her just that, and get her to focus back on the entire point of this mission, on the larger picture. Except that would be a bit hypocritical, considering that he’d nearly gotten his entire career sidelined after accidentally trashing an SIS operation on Nar Shadaa a few years back as he’d refused to let several soldiers be sold into slavery. It had all worked out in the end, but that was beside the point.
“You don’t know me,” he said tersely.
“Tell her that we don’t have time to be rescuing every slave on Korriban,” Darok spat.
Before Theron could even open his mouth to relay the message, her voice filled his ear again, backed with that same steely resolve he was starting to recognize. “I don’t particularly care for the Colonel’s tone.”
Apparently Theron’s mic was more sensitive than he gave it credit for. Perhaps it was possible to tweak equipment a little too well.
“Uh oh,” Doc’s voice drifted through the earpiece, “she’s got that look in her eye.”
“Something tells me I’m glad I’m not hearing what’s going on back on Carrick Station,” Kira agreed.
“You know we can’t spare the men,” Theron finally said.
“Fine.” Her Jedi calm didn’t break, but he could hear the repressed emotion beginning leak into her voice. “We’ll split the difference. My crew will lead them back.”
“Yeah, we’ll—wait, come again?” That was Doc.
“Doc and Rusk will escort them back to the shuttle safely. They’re fully capable.”
“You know it is foolish to split our forces this way, Jedi. Especially over slaves.” The deep tone of Lord Scourge picked up. “There are still many Sith crawling in this valley.”
“These people need our help, Scourge.”
“One day you are going to get us all killed with your pointless compassion.”
“Today will not be that day for you, thankfully, since you’ll be helping them. In case they encounter any of those Sith that you mentioned.”
There was a long silence on the other end, and Theron really wished he had a visual to see exactly what was going down, but even he could feel the tension crackling over the distance. He crossed his arms, and was contemplating breaking the silence when he finally heard a grunt of acknowledgement.
“Hey, gorgeous,” Doc’s voice dropped into Highwind’s, and therefore Theron’s ear, barely a whisper, “do you really think this is wise? Scourge is likely to spear one of them with his lightsaber if they annoy him.”
“That’s why I’m sending you,” she whispered back, “I know you’ll take care of them.”
“I’m always the dashing hero.”
“That’s what I’m counting on.”
“Watch your back in there,” Doc said, the trailing quality of his voice indicating that he was moving away.
“That’s what I’m here for,” Kira called back.
“This distraction has wasted enough of our time.” Darok didn’t exactly snarl, but there was an unrestrained annoyance coloring his tone. “Is she on the way to the Academy, or has she forgotten the reason they’re there?”
“If Colonel Darok wishes to board a shuttle to Korriban and take over this mission personally, he is welcome to,” Highwind said airily. “Otherwise I would suggest that he calm down before he gives himself a stroke.”
Theron felt his lips twitch, and managed to cover the grin with his hand before the burly man next to him saw. It took him an extra moment to smother his mirth completely, and more diplomatically than he ever thought possibly he told Darok, “She’s headed that way now.”
That earned a tight nod before the colonel turned back to his battle plans on the holotable. Theron continued to pace, the only thing he could do to expend his nervous energy. Usually in a situation like this he’d be out there doing his part, not playing games of holophone between Jedi and the military. Stars, he missed field work.
“Now, Theron, that’s not what I said.” If he didn’t know better, he would have thought that he heard a faint trace of amusement.
He wandered over to the section of the holotable that had the reconstructed plans leading to the temple. He pitched his voice low as he replied, not really wanting Darok to overhear. “I’m trying out some of that famous Jedi diplomacy.”
“There’s a difference between diplomacy and lying.”
“It’s diplomacy if you’re headed that way,” he tossed back. “So don’t make a liar out of me now.”
He was pretty sure he was imagining the sound of a resigned sigh over his earpiece. “Diplomacy it is.”
“Good.”
Theron enlarged the holographic view of the map, studying the path they would have to weave before even reaching the Academy’s front doors. They still had a long way to go, the numbers on their strike team had just been halved by the impromptu rescue mission, and their window to escape was shrinking by the minute. Hopefully Darok had been right in his assessment earlier and there was more to this Jedi than met the eye. Theron had a feeling she was going to need more than just some very fancy lightsaber skills before all of this was said and done.
Next Chapter
#swtor fanfiction#theron shan x jedi knight#Theron Shan#Female Jedi Knight/Hero of Tython#oc: greyias highwind#otp: adorkable#smoke and mirrors#SoR Fic O Doom#fanfic#greyfic#i battled a storm to bring you this chapter on thursday#literally it knocked out my power right as i was putting this together
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An Addicts Reality
I would like to take a little time to discuss addictions. The reason I chose this topic is because I can relate. Hello, my name is Kassandra and I was once an addict. My drug of choice was Crystal Meth. I grew up with an addict, always considered one of the “guys”, so I was around a lot at an early age. My first hit was given to me by my father at the age of 14. Prior to that, I was sent to score for him as well as a couple others in the family at the age of 12. My first beer was given to me at the age of 9. So, as you can see, it was not a choice I made on my own. I was raised in a different lifestyle, until my mother finally was able to leave and escape the abuse. There are a few things I would like for people to understand. First of many is about rehabilitation centers that are there to assist those who cannot get cleaned on their own. In addition, I would also like to touch basis on the importance of family. Also, I would also like mention the counseling that is also provided for situations like this. People can be so judgmental of addicts they see or come across, rather than trying to understand the circumstances.
Rehabilitation centers aren’t all what they seem to be. I cannot speak for others, but I am speaking from my experience. The most frightening of all when entering is being able to get through all the pain that comes along with it emotionally, physically, as well as mentally. My worst pain I had to endure was the body aches, the cold sweats, and not being able to drop a bowl movement for 1 week and a half. Also, I was not eating for approximately 8 months, besides alcohol and the drug of choice. To having to endure all the emotions at once with all the past trauma that I will not speak of. Not only emotionally, but to mentally be able to be stabled enough to deal and confront my issues was also something that I struggled with until this day because I was taught by my father emotions were a sign of weakness; currently, I have a challenging time with my girlfriend speaking of what I feel; yet I can write it down, which is not the greatest, yet it is an effort. Finally, my biggest issue I had was being able to keep my sobriety. Not many know that the most drugs you can get or that are the fastest to find is in rehab itself. That is how after almost making it a month, I relapsed; because another member had it in hand and offered it to me and many others. As an editorial staff states, ( Hardy was ordered to go to rehab by the court after a string of run-ins with the law. We’re told the staff at the rehab got suspicious of Hardy’s behavior on Friday and gave him a breathalyzer test on the spot... which he failed). So, it is not exactly the most resourceful-but in all reality what is?
In addition, I would like to discuss the importance of family. Not many realize that deserting someone that is struggling with addictions, in my opinion, really shows the fear of being unloved is becoming a reality. For instance, Kristina Murray, an author, who writes about the importance of family roles in sobriety also states;” Despite seeing a loved one struggle, family members can and ideally do play a major role in the treatment process.” When I was going through my tough time, the words I got from my mother was and I quote, “ I will not have a drug addict as a daughter” and from there I was on my own. Not ever trying to understand as to why or even bother to ask how it happened, but in our family, we never speak emotionally so to grow up with no affection also was not beneficial. When I was on my own is when I had met my ex-wife, who was the one who reached out to my mother, who then decided to assist me.So, if it wasn’t for my ex-wife, my mother would have never known much about what i have been through. I do also understand that you cannot help someone who is not willing to help themselves. I also tried to talk to my father about becoming sober, but it has not happened until this day. Even if he is not ready to become sober, I will never stop being there, even if it’s to buy him food, clothes, shoes, blankets etc. Family support goes a long way to show affection, to be able to have that one-on-one talk because you get them to think beyond the front they try to impose. Tough love does not work for everybody, but I can admit, it gave me some thick skin. I have also met women who were not working for the greatest job in the world, as well as men who even served this country, and being able to hear and listen to their stories also was an eye opener for me, it made me that much more of a genuine person.
Also, I would also like to mention the counseling that is provided for situations like this. I can agree this can help some people; as for me, it was not much helpful. Take into consideration, I have done counseling most of my entire life, it just reminds me of my past trauma, but at the same time, I finally was okay with it. Meaning what i went through, I see it as normal every woman goes through it; but for my counselors they see me as crazy, and not a normal person, because I am content with my trauma. They have all told me the same thing you will never forget but you will learn to let go. Since I have let go, I think it is normal they assume I am not mentally stable. I believe I am stabled and I have let go, but with the outcome of my traumas my anger built, my mindset changed, my personality has been destroyed, and now I am serious, observant, and my trust is broken. I keep myself away from family because they do not like how I have become. They do not understand I am in this situation because I have protected them since I was young. So out of all the counseling I have done, all it has done to me is remind me of all the pain I have been through and had me continue to be so closed in from everything, as well as everyone even to be able to move forward. I will have to go back to counseling once again just to be able to transfer my medication from Arizona to California. Counseling really in my opinion is not the best source because all I am doing is re-living my traumas which is not the best way to live your life. But again, what can one do, when the medication keeps your mind at ease and it makes you live as normal as it can get for you? Therefore, I do my best to avoid counseling for the reason being the whole reason for my addiction was to cover my emotions, hide away a pain that is unforgettable, and to be able to continue and move forward with my life. As Kate Anderson, B Sc. author of tech-based delivery of CBT shows promise for alcohol use treatment states, “ Cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) focuses on challenging unhelpful thoughts and behaviors, and is proven treatment for alcohol disorder.” Not only is counseling like an alarm clock but a goos percentage of the counselors have also once been an addict. I have worked in a prison facilities where we have had counselors compromised by these inmates and have brought drugs into the facility for them. So how is one to know that your counselor is trustworthy of hearing your most silent pain? There is a saying “ once an addict always an addict” with the reason being that it is a lifelong battle and you can relapse at any given moment.
In all reality, people that have not been through addiction should not be so judgmental. It does matter if you have seen a loved one, a friend, ex co-worker through addiction; you will never be able to understand it unless you have been through it yourself. I have had many people around me speak ill of them and degrade them that enough is enough. All this talk about removing the homeless is in my opinion ignorant. I have fed the less fortunate, I have met amazing people when I went to feed the homeless. Yes, addiction is a disease as well as STDS, HIV, and AIDS, but do people stop having sexual relationships? Now that I am also in this position of going place to place or even motels I can minus the addiction, I am still grateful enough to push forward and to continue my sobriety, because it is one of the hardest things to overcome in a city full of it. The day I began working in Corrections I made a vow to myself to be honest. So, May 9th of 2016, during mt academy, I had spoken to my Sergeant and advised her I that I have only been clean for 2 months and if I ever doubt myself in turning anything in is the day I will quite because a job is not worth losing my sobriety and she respected that. So, the next time you think to yourself about rehabilitation centers, or family,as well as counseling, understand that it is not always best for everyone.It is easier said then done hearing it from someone who knows nothing about it or even lived it. So instead of judging them, why not assist them with food clothing, or even see how there day is going?
Written by: Myself
Based on real life experiences
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Transcendental (i)
Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader
Words: 4.7k
Chapter Summary: Life goes on, even if you don’t want it to.
Warnings: Canon divergence, angst (!!!!), mentions of death and mourning. You’ll notice that this series will have a lot of ups and downs, but I promise it’ll even out in the next few chapters.
Author’s Note: So here’s the first actual chapter (be sure to find the prologue in the masterlist if you haven’t already)! Still mostly laying the ground work for the plot, but shit really starts happening next chapter. So there’s that. Please let me know what you think with a like/reblog/comment—I love hearing from you!
And as always, special thanks to @blackwidws for creating the banner for this series and just being perfection personified.
Series Masterlist
Chapter One
Then
You winced as a cornstalk whipped back to hit you in the square in the face, but you pushed on, panting and sweating. Your bare thighs were taking the brunt of the abuse, another stalk slicing into your skin as you shot past it, and you were once again reminded that running barefoot through a corn field in nothing but your underwear and an AC/DC t-shirt was a resoundingly bad idea. You were a superhero though, and you had faced worse than this. So you carried on, determined to not get caught.
But determination could only get you so far. You could hear him catching up to you, his feet pounding the ground at a much faster rate than yours. He had always been faster than you, you knew that, but you still cursed internally, careful to keep your ragged breathing as quiet as possible, even if it waspointless. You knew it was only a matter of time before—
“Gotcha!” was the last thing you heard before you felt the sting of webbing smack against your shoulder, and then you were flying backwards, directly into your pursuer’s chest.
Though you had anticipated this move, as it was unquestionably his favorite, you couldn’t contain the gasp that whooshed out of you at the contact. Nor could you repress the exhilarated giggle that burst out of you once you were back in his arms.
“You could have at least let me get a little farther,” you complained, mock pout forming on your lips as you tilted your head back to look up at him.
Peter only laughed, eyes twinkling the way they always did when he was happy. It made your heart swell just to see it, to know that you were the cause of it.
“I could have, but we both know your sense of direction is deeply flawed without AI assistance, so there’s no telling where you would have ended up if I had. And—wait,” Peter cut himself off, expression bemused as he glanced down for the first time since he found you, “are you not wearing pants?”
You raised a single eyebrow in challenge. “Does it look like I’m wearing pants?”
“No,” Peter said decidedly. “You are most definitely not wearing pants. What happened to your pants?”
Your mind instantly flashed to the bush you had fallen into after you had leapt over a fence post to get into the field. The thorns had bitten into your skin, but they had snared your shorts entirely, latching into the pocket and refusing to let go. In a moment of true wisdom, you had decided to cut your losses and shimmy out of the pants before continuing your sprint into the cornfield.
None of which you felt inclined to share with him, knowing he would just laugh at your expense, effectively ruining the tone you were attempting to set by instigating this little chase.
So, you shrugged noncommittally, and offered a half-truth as an explanation. “I was hot.”
Peter’s brows lifted in skepticism. “Uh huh. And you thought running into a cornfield was the best way to cool off?”
“I thought that running into a cornfield was the best way to get your attention,” you shot back, smirking when he laughed.
“Oh? And I thought dragging me all the way to Kansas to have a picnic in a field ‘just like in the movies’ was supposed to get my attention. I also thought it was supposed to be ‘peaceful, quiet, and with absolutely zero interruptions from global disasters and—wait for it—any form of physical exercise.’ And you know,” he continued, giving you a look when you opened your mouth to protest, “some would consider interrupting said picnic to take off running through a field as exercise.”
“Yes well, that was beforeyou decided to eat all the watermelon,” you defended, crossing your arms and narrowing your eyes in mock reproach. “You left me with no other option. It was either run away from my feelings or kill you, and you know I love you too much to do that.”
“But you’re allergic to watermelon,” Peter reminded you in exasperation. “Which is why I packed you the apple—the apple that you ate without complaint, by the way.”
“That… is beside the point,” you finished lamely, suddenly losing confidence once you were standing still and facing him once more. You considered taking off again, but judging by the look Peter was giving you, he knew it, and he had no intention of playing along this time. “And besides, I’m only mildly allergic to watermelon.”
He gave you an unimpressed look, and you knew that he was perilously close to ending your game.
“Come on, (Y/N),” Peter urged, giving you an encouraging smile. “Just tell me what all of this is about. What are youreally running from here?”
And there it was. The game of cat and mouse was effectively over.
“What do you mean?” you asked, trying to dodge the issue even as your grip on his arms tightened.
You wanted this—you knew you did. But you also knew that the thought of ruining this thing—this genuine bit of happiness that you had found—was terrifying.
“You know what I mean,” Peter said, voice gentle and coaxing, still smiling at you like you were the most important thing in the world.
And suddenly you remembered why it was you were doing this.
You and Peter weren’t like other people your age. Most 20-year-olds were worried about finding a job or finishing college. But you were superheroes, and you put your lives on the line every single day. And every time you opened your eyes, you weren’t sure if that day would be your last.
But if there was one thing you were sure of, it was that you loved Peter and he loved you. So you decided that you had done enough stalling, and it was time to just go for it.
“Will you marry me?”
The stunned look on his face was the only indicator that the words had in fact left your mouth. It was also a solid indication that maybe you could have led up to that a little bit better. The Starks were known for their charming words and long-windedness, but they were also known for their impulsivity and bad decisions, so the chances of this going well for you were about 50-50. Of course, this would be one of the times it didn’t—
“Did you really just ask me to marry you, or is this some kind of watermelon-induced hallucination?”
Your mouth suddenly felt very dry, but you managed a sharp nod in affirmation. When he only continued to stare at you, wide-eyed and speechless, your brain decided to grace you with the ability to speak again. Which historically only made things worse for you.
“I did, uh… ask you to marry me. And I mean, I know we’re young. Some would say too young, but most people don’t have jobs that involve saving the world on a daily basis, so you know. Fuck what they think, I guess. Unless you’re worried about what other people think, which is understandable. I mean, it would be very public, because you know. I’m the heiress to one of the largest fortunes in the world. And the daughter of a superhero, who is also secretly a superhero. It kind of complicates things. But most things with us are complicated—well, things with Spider-Man and Siren are complicated, but things with Peter and (Y/N) never are, which is one of the things I love most about our relationship. And I love you, of course, and I know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you, no matter how short it may be. So I figure, why not get married now? Why wait for something that may never come when I’m sure about this? I mean, that’s assuming that you are—”
Peter, finally taking mercy on you, abruptly lurched forward, claiming your lips in a searing kiss that almost made you forget about how awful your previous ranting was. The kiss was slow and sweet, but brief as he was soon breaking away to stare at you with those heartbreakingly beautiful eyes.
“I love you,” he said, and your breath caught in your throat because no matter how many times he said it, it still always surprised you. “I love you, (Y/N) Stark, and I do want to spend the rest of my life with you. I was just surprised. I mean, it’s not every day the girl of your dreams proposes to you.”
You rolled your eyes in an attempt to hide your relief, but also because Peter was ridiculous. As always. “Don’t tell me you think it’s a man’s job to do the proposing.”
“Of course not.” Peter looked affronted, the sight enough to make you giggle and lean in closer to him despite the summer heat. He smiled down at you, pure adoration in his eyes. “But I do wish that I could have talked to your dads first—you know, to make sure that they don’t kill me. And I want to get you a ring, which could be a real problem on a full-time student’s salary. Though I could always sell a kidney… or state secrets. Whichever goes for more, I guess.”
You only laughed, bright and airy, shaking your head before sealing your lips over his again, watermelon mixing with apple in a delicious combination as he pulled you closer and deepened the kiss.
You pulled away several minutes later, breathing hard, and rested your forehead against his. Your lips were tingling, and you weren’t sure if it was an allergic reaction from the watermelon or just the usual affect that Peter had on you. Probably both, if you had to guess, but you ignored it.
“I don’t care about rings or big weddings or anything like that. All I want is you, Peter Parker. Well,” you amended, pulling back and glancing down when you felt something shift around your feet—likely a snake, “you, and to get the hell out of this cornfield. Probably the entire state of Kansas as well.”
“And some pants?” Peter suggested, following your line of sight to take in your bare legs.
You felt your cheeks warm, and you could only hope he would blame it on the heat. “Yeah, some pants might be nice too.”
“Alright then,” Peter said before scooping you up into his arms to carry you back across the field, much to your delight. “So, the to-do list is: me, leave the state of Kansas and find some pants, in that order. Oh, and then get married. I think we can manage that without too much trouble.”
“You better hope so,” you teased, smile so wide it almost hurt. “It only goes downhill from here baby. I’m a very needy person, you know.”
“Oh man, do I,” he sighed dramatically. “It’s a good thing you’re wealthy. To afford all of the medical expenses that come with carrying you on my shoulders for the next decade or so.”
Your laugher rang across the field, but you couldn’t be bothered to care. You couldn’t remember the last time you were so happy. “The next ten years? Think again Parker. You’re stuck with me for life now.”
Now
(Three years later)
It wasn’t raining, but you thought that it should be.
It always rained in the movies, after all. A group of mourners in black, umbrellas raised to block the rain even as tears fell from their eyes. The camera would zoom in on your expressionless face, cheeks dry as you watched them lower the casket in the ground. A single tear would slide down your cheek, and it would be over.
As it was, this wasn’t a movie and the sun was beating down on you and your father’s hand on your shoulder was uncomfortably warm. Your eyes weren’t dry, though you did your best to keep your face devoid of emotion otherwise. Your hands clenched at your side, aching for an umbrella—for somethingto hold onto. For a distraction.
They said Stark men were made of iron, but Stark women were made of stronger stuff. You had to be, if you were going to survive this.
The hand on your shoulder squeezed tighter as they lowered your husband into the ground.
A sob sounded close by. You thought it may have been you, but you couldn’t be sure of anything as you watched the casket that held what was left of Peter Parker disappear from view. You didn’t think you’d be sure of anything again.
There had been a time where you were sure you would spend the rest of your life with Peter, after all. But there had also been a time when you were sure your father, Tony, would live to see you have children, to see you take over the family business, to simply be there. And well… Looking back now, you felt exceptionally naïve to have hoped for anything at all.
You wished it would rain, if only to drown everything else out.
…
“It was a nice ceremony. A lot of people… I’m sure he would have liked that.”
The comment was made lightly, searchingly. Empty words to fill a silence that cannot truly be filled. But empty words were never really Steve Rogers’s specialty, and they fell flat in the back of the limousine that was taking you back to the Tower.
Still, you nodded, the pain in Steve’s eyes pushing you to play along. To ignore the fact that Peter’s funeral was so large only because he was married to you, the Stark heiress. No one knew who he really was. No one knew that he had died a hero. No one but you and your father, and a handful of other superheroes who couldn’t attend the funeral without creating a stir.
It didn’t feel like enough.
“It was,” was all you said.
The car fell back into a careful silence, and with nothing better to do, you continued to stare at your father’s profile out of the corner of your vision. Keen eyes traced the hard edges of his face, the way his hair shown like gold when the light struck it just right. Sometimes you wished you could find a trace of yourself in his features, that you had a physical connection with him the way you had with your other father. That maybe there would still be someone on Earth that you actually shared blood with.
But Steve had been a father to you in every other way since he joined the team when you were 12, and you knew that he was all you had left now.
First Happy to the Mandarin ten years ago, then Aunt May to a heart attack two years ago, then Tony to his heroics last year, now… Peter. All gone to somewhere you couldn’t reach reach them. Steve was the only family you had left now, if one didn’t count Rhodey or Pepper, who both had thrown themselves into work after Tony’s death. You knew you were the only family he had left too.
It hurt to admit, but it didn’t feel like enough either.
“I…” Steve hesitated, eyes piercing through you in the way they always did. “I gotta say, I’m almost glad your father wasn’t here for this… Awful, isn’t it?”
Your eyes burned at the reminder, and you weren’t sure if you could agree or not.
Tony Stark, your biological father who had raised you ever since your mother left you at his doorstep over twenty-three years ago, had nearly a year ago now (10 months and 12 days if one wanted to be precise, but who was counting really?). He died a hero, as you always feared he would, saving the world from a madman who thought he could bring peace to the universe by destroying it.
He was fifty-two. He had been married to Steve for only three years after dancing around the idea for nine. He had been an outstanding father, and he had died alone.
But most importantly, he had loved both you and Peter fiercely, and it would kill him to see you like this now: widowed and heartbroken at twenty-three; his son-in-law dead because he didn’t know how to not be a hero. Just like Tony.
Perhaps Steve was right. Perhaps it was better this way. But still, you craved the comfort only Tony knew how to give you.
You wished for simpler times, if there ever was such a thing.
But what you said was, “A lot of things are awful. It hardly makes a difference anymore does it?”
“Of course it does.” He said it so quietly, you almost missed it, his jaw was clenching the way it always did when he was fighting off tears. And then he was clearing his throat, the way he always did before he gave you a speech. It was nice, you supposed, how some things never changed even when everything else crumbled around you.
“I… I’ve been trying to think…” he started, unsure in a way that he never was. It made you sit up straighter, coming out of your revere enough to give him your full attention. “What your father—what Tony would say. To make you feel better, to comfort you. To give you hope or love or—God, I don’t know, something to make this better. He was always so much better at comforting you than I was,” he let out a shaky laugh, and your eyes burned at the reminder. Steve had always been a comfort to you, but no one had ever loved you the way Tony did. “But I know that there isn’t anything I can do or say to fix this. That I—that neither of them are coming back, and the only thing to really do is accept that and move on.”
He cut himself off there, seemingly unsure of how to proceed, and you knew it wasn’t his fault but it hurt to think about carrying on after you had already lost so much. What more could you stand to survive? What more would it take to break you?
“Is that what you did?” you deflect instead of giving voice to your fearws, your tone mild and quiet in the backseat of the car. “Move on?”
Your father’s lips twitched up into a heartbreakingly sad smile, and it confirmed your thoughts before his words did. “No, I suppose not.”
You nodded, eyes shifting back to gaze out of the window once more. “I thought so.”
The remainder of the car ride was spent in silence.
…
A week passed by uneventfully.
That is to say that while things may have been taking place in the world outside of your small apartment, you were in no way a part of them.
Steve had begged you to move back to the tower, back home.You didn’t have the heart to tell him that without Peter or Tony, no place really felt like home anymore.
Tony had always told you that a home was a concept more than a place, something that you learned quickly when you were traveling constantly with him for the first 12 years of your life. It was a sentiment that only solidified once you found Peter. And now it meant nothing.
The one-bedroom apartment you currently resided in came the closest though. You and Peter had moved in not long after your engagement, despite Tony’s protests that you could find something a little bigger, a little closer to Manhattan, a little more comfortable. It was cheap and located in a questionable part of Queens, but it was yours and the two of you had been so proud that you had managed the deposits and rent all on your own.
It had been the place you called home for three years, but more importantly than that, it held a lot of memories for you. It’s where you and Peter shared your first night as husband and wife, something that seemed like forever ago even though it had only been two and a half years in reality. But it was also where you sequestered yourself after your father’s death not even two years later. It was where you were hiding once again.
You were aware that it wasn’t healthy, closing yourself off like this. But you had no reason to leave.
Without Tony and without Peter, you had no desire to be a part of the world that had used and abused them so.
There was Steve, of course, but he dealt with grief differently than you did. He had his missions and his avengers and his heroics to occupy his time, and though he called you every morning, you didn’t hear much from him. You assumed it was his way of giving you space.
Rhodey and Pepper were both consumed by their jobs as well, and you couldn’t fault them for it. Rhodey’s position in the military and Pepper’s place as CEO of your father’s—your—company were demanding, and they made time for you whenever they could. They were like an aunt and uncle to you, and they always would be, but things had been more… strained since Tony’s death. You suspected that was your fault as well.
And the Avengers, your team that had been your family since 2012, were scattered across the globe. Natasha called when she could, but she was undercover more often than not these days, and it was hard to stay in touch. Other than Steve, she was probably who you were closest with on the team.
Clint, Bucky, Sam, Thor, Bruce, Carol, Hope, Scott…. They were all still living their lives and fighting the good fight to keep the universe as peaceful as possible. You knew that true heroes couldn’t let the deaths of their friends and comrades hold them back. The world still needed them after all.
Which is how you knew you weren’t a hero, no matter how hard you tried to be like your dad. Like Peter.
This grief and guilt that weighed on your soul was just too heavy. After Tony had died, you had tried to carry on his legacy and become Iron Woman, leaving behind the Siren, along with her black suit and batons that she used to take down would-be rapists and murderers, to bear the weight of red and gold armor instead.
It had been difficult, but manageable with Peter’s support. You had always loved saving people after all, always wanted to be a hero.
But now you found that it was impossible to get out of bed in the morning, let alone worry about saving anyone else.
And that day was meant to be just like the rest: bleak, uneventful, unwanted.
But then you heard the creak of your window opening, and the shattering of a vase quickly followed by muffled cursing.
Your armor surrounded you in an instant, nanotech spreading across your body from the twin metal bracelets on your wrists. You weren’t sure what you were expecting to see when you carefully crept into your living room to investigate, but it certainly wasn’t… this.
“Uh… hey,” the boy in the black Spider-Man costume squeaked, before dropping his tone into a clearly false baritone. “I mean, hey. What’s up?”
You only blinked at him once behind the visor of your suit before letting it recede back into your bracelets. If he was surprised to see who you were, he didn’t show it. Which left just one question.
“Is this some kind of joke?” you ask, voice tightly controlled in an effort to keep the tears at bay.
That, at least, seemed to surprise him.
“No!” he rushed to explain, hands up in a placating gesture. “Of course not, I was, uh… I was told to come here. For help.”
You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Oh yeah? Help with what—fashion advice? And who exactly sent you here?”
The boy—and he most certainly was that, couldn’t be older than 14 based on his voice and stature— hesitated, indecision writ across every line of his body. But then he slowly removed his mask, revealing a mass of curly hair and dark, pleading eyes.
He really was young.
“It was your dad, Captain America I mean,” he explained, eyes lowered to the ground like he doesn’t know what else to say, but things are starting to piece together before your eyes. “He—he saw me scaling a wall in Brooklyn—a complete accident, not my fault. But uh, I told him that I wasn’t really sure what to do with… well, you know…”
“Your powers,” you answered, sparing him the embarrassment of saying it out loud. You could tell he was still struggling to admit it to himself, let alone someone else. “How long have you had them?”
“Just a little over a week,” he says, sounding almost relieved. “I got them the night…”
He doesn’t finish the sentence, but his meaning is clear.
The night your husband died.
You sucked in a surprised breath. “You know who he was?”
He shrugged, looking even more uncomfortable than he did before. “Yeah, the Captain—Captain America—he told me. About… uh, Spider-Man, and what he meant to him. To you. He said that you were the only person who could really help me with this. That you were the only one a-alive who… knows what it’s like.”
You purse your lips, and you want to curse your father for arranging this, but you can almost see his logic. No one knew what it was like to be Spider-Man better than you did—you had spent several years of your life in love with him after all. But you knew what being a superhero did to someone, especially when they were so young. And you wouldn’t play a part in ruining the life of a kid you didn’t even know.
“So you want to be a superhero then?” you ask, ready to tell him what it really meant and that if he were smart, that he would run away from this and never look back.
But he surprised you.
“No,” he says with conviction. “At least not… not now. I’ve got school and my parents and girls and a million other things to worry about. All I want is to know how to control this, so that I’m not sticking to every doorknob I touch or getting stuck on the ceiling every night.”
His tone implied that this had happened more than once, but you decided not to question it despite your curiosity. Instead, you ask, “And I imagine you got the suit from my father as well?”
He nods, a bit sheepishly. “Yeah, I’m… sorry, if it seems like it’s in like, poor taste or something. And that I uh… made some artistic changes. He just gave it to me and said it was mine if I ever decided I needed it, but I guess maybe I should have asked you first. It was just you know, Captain Americaand when he tells you something you just—”
“You do it,” you cut him off with a roll of your eyes. “Yeah, that’s what everyone says, but here’s your first lesson kid: sometimes the best thing you can do is ignore Captain America. Save yourself the pain.”
Your mouth quirked up into something resembling a smile when his mouth dropped open in shock. It felt odd on your face, but you were almost relieved that you could still do it. “So you don’t want to go into the super hero business, right? You just want someone to teach you the ropes so that you can function as a uh… Spider-Person?”
He blinks at you a couple times before nodding, either still in shock that you had dissed Captain America or that you were willing to help him.
“Alright then, we’ll start with the basics. What’s your name kid?”
“Miles,” he said after a beat of silence. “Miles Morales.”
“Nice to meet you Miles,” you respond, already thinking up training regimens and calculating dietary plans to compete with his increased metabolism, and the excitement that came with the sudden appearance of a purposesurprised you. But all you said was, “Let’s get started.”
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Election Day 2020
Is it possible that Election Day is finally upon us? Some other time, I’d like to write about the craziness of having these election seasons that go on endlessly—you can expect the 2024 campaign to begin in all but name about a quarter-hour after the new or not-new president is inaugurated in January—and particularly in light of the relative sanity that prevails in other countries, where political campaigns last mostly for several weeks or months. (The minimum length of an election campaign in Canada is thirty-six days, for example, but the longest on record was only eleven weeks. The candidates give a few speeches, the party publishes its platform, there are some interviews and a debate or two, then the polls open and the nation votes. Only here, where the date of the next presidential election has nothing to do with the fate of the current government, is it considered normal for people to spend two or three years campaigning for office.) Today, however, I’d like to use this space to write instead about the concept of participation in an election itself.
While perusing the corners of the blogosphere that are my regular haunts, I’ve occasionally noted the opinion put forward that the American system of government is an outgrowth of the specific kind of democracy invented (and named) by the ancient Greeks and that, therefore, it can only be supported by Jews and Christians willing to set aside what Scripture teaches us about the way people should consent to be governed to embrace a system unrelated to their own spiritual heritage. Generally written by people who know their Bible but who are wholly ignorant of rabbinic tradition, these essays are mostly the work of people who find the distinction between ancient Israelite religion and modern Judaism a triviality to be skipped past rather than a detail of profound importance. How this could or should work for Christians, I’ll leave for others more qualified than myself to puzzle out. But for Jews, the question itself of whether people guided by Jewish tradition should enthusiastically embrace or merely stoically accept the concept of representative democracy is the question I’ve been pondering in these last days leading up to the election.
It surely is so that the Bible does not envisage the ancient Israelites participating in anything like a Jeffersonian democracy. Indeed, biblical tradition imagines an ideal state governed by a king who acts solely in accordance with the law of the Torah and actually goes so far as to legislate that the king may only be seated on the royal throne when he is actually holding his personal scroll of the Law in his arms. How practical that was, or if the kings of Israel truly obeyed that injunction, who can say? But it is a stunning image nonetheless, something along the lines of our nation requiring by law that the President actually hold a copy of the Constitution in his hands whenever meeting with visitors in the Oval Office or making a public address. (That might actually not be such a bad idea, now that I think of it.) Interestingly, the king isn’t expected to be a Torah scholar who can personally puzzle out obscure point of law: in cases where Scripture does not directly address some specific issue with which the king needs to deal, a large squadron of court prophets is also imagined to be in place specifically to transmit the word of God to the sovereign on an issue-by-issue basis. So the model of which those authors I referenced above are so enamored basically features God ruling the nation through the agency of a king who gets his governing instructions from God one way or the other: either directly from his own informed contemplation of Scripture or indirectly from the squadron of house seers installed in the palace for that precise purpose.
But that ideal kingdom is not where any of us lives today. Yes, it is certainly so that Jews who say their prayers in the traditional mode give voice daily to the hope that the messianic era will feature just such a king of the House of David empowered to rule over the Land of Israel in the mode described just above. But in our pre-redeemed world, the footfalls of the messiah have yet to heard even in the distance. For better or worse, we are—for the moment, at least—on our own.
I suppose it could be possible to argue that the kind of democracy that has evolved as the basis for government in these United States is thus merely an attractive stop-gap measure that traditionalists should support until the aforementioned footfalls become audible in the distance. There is, however, a rabbinic idea that actually corresponds precisely to the notion of participating in an election to choose a national leader. And that suggests to me a way to frame voting in a national election as a personal decision fully in sync with tradition.
In Jewish law, the concept of agency guarantees individuals the right to appoint agents to act on their behalf. When put baldly like that, it sounds almost banal. But behind that apparent banality is the legal force that enables the individual to act profoundly in ways that would otherwise be either impossible or, at the very least, impractical. For its part, the Talmud speaks about the concept of agency in absolute terms, going so far as to say that “the agent of an individual is legally empowered to act as though he or she were the individual him or herself.” There are exceptions, of course. For one, the Talmud makes clear that “the concept of agency is inoperative when the agent has been appointed specifically to commit a sin.” In other words, you can’t escape the consequence of wrongdoing by appointing an agent to commit the deed for you. So you can avoid the need to travel to a different locale by appointing an agent to marry your future spouse on your behalf or to act “as yourself” in divorce (or any) court, but you can’t escape the consequences of murdering someone by hiring a hitperson to pull the trigger. Nor was this “just” a regular feature of classical law in ancient times: it appears, at least in the broad way it was construed by the ancient sages, specifically to be a feature specifically of Jewish law. (The second exception, however, regards the commandments themselves: it is not deemed legally possible to hire an agent to fulfill obligations to God. You cannot, therefore, appoint someone to say the Shema for you or to put t’fillin on during morning prayers as though that person were you. Nor can you appoint an agent to eat matzah for you at the Pesach seder or to dine in a sukkah or to hear the shofar blasts during Rosh Hashanah.)
That set of ideas creates an interesting framework for considering the role of the individual in a republican democracy, because it leads directly to thinking of elections as opportunities for individuals to appoint as their agents the individuals they wish to see lead the nation forward. That we do this collectively—i.e., as a kind of contest in which the winner becomes the agent of us all—is just a function of the fact that no nation could function if each individual were to appoint his or her own congressperson or choose personally to serve him or herself. For practical reasons, then, we do this as a group…but the basic principle that underlies the effort is still that, by voting, we are appointing individuals as our agents to represent us in the Congress and to serve as President. We send them not to commit sins that we don’t want to sully our own hands by undertaking (that wouldn’t be allowed) or fulfill our own spiritual obligations to God, but specifically to act on our behalf to ensure the security of the nation, to guarantee justice for all its citizens, to create a safety net into which people unable to care adequately for themselves may fall, to oversee the education of our children, to care for our veterans, to guide our nation to its rightful place of leadership in the forum of nations, to watch over the planet and prevent humanity from irrevocably soiling its collective nest, and to guide our nation into solid, mutually beneficial alliances with other countries. By casting my vote on Tuesday (and, yes, I am planning to vote the old-fashioned way: in person and on Election Day), I understand myself to be participating in a national effort to appoint the individuals who will lead the nation forward.
Because I think of our representatives in Congress and as the President as agents appointed by myself (and several hundred million others) to act on our behalf in the world, I feel a concomitant freedom to inform those people regularly how I wish them to act and what I wish for them to attempt to accomplish.
It sounds a bit passé these days to refer to members of the Congress or to the President and Vice President as servants of the people, but the way the word “servant” is used in that expression comes close to what I hear in the Hebrew shaliach, the standard word for “agent.” So, to answer those who feel that participation in representative democracy is by definition an act undertaken outside the concept of tradition, my answer is that there really couldn’t be a more traditional way to think about governance than by imagining the citizenry banding together to appoint an agent to do their bidding and lead them forward.
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Spider-Man: Reptilian Rage #1 Thoughts
...What was the point of this exactly?
Given how this one shot came out the same week as the Spider-Ham annual here is my conspiracy theory for the day.
Reptilian Rage and the Spider-Ham annual were both considered for the annual this year. This makes sense because they’re both disposable one-and-done stories and the former, like the last annual we had, is an untold tale that doesn’t disrupt the ongoing stories. But Marvel decided to go with the Spider-Ham story because of the exposure from ITSV and/or because they figured a Spidey annual is guaranteed to sell something and a Spidey one shot is too but a Spider-Ham one shot isn’t, therefore making the latter the annual and then doing a one shot gives them more net profit.
Now if one chooses to look at this as an aborted annual it is both better and worse than the last annual we had. Better in so far as the art and over all story is better (the concept of the last annual was great the execution bad and it severely didn’t fit into continuity) but worse because it’s the length of a standard issue. Of course this isn’t an annual at the end of the day and therefore has a standard price. Which is still too high but you can say that of every modern comic pretty much.
But is the story any good is the question.
Well to answer that we need to consider the nature of untold tales. There is an art to them, they make your job as writer easier and more difficult. Easier because you have a lot of stuff already defined for you to pick up and play with, harder because you need to make it organically integrate into the older continuity.
Kurt Busieck unsurprisingly is the crown King of doing this, his Untold Tales of Spider-Man title is a masterclass of how to expand upon established history without overwriting it.
In this regad Reptilian Rage is maybe not bad.
I say maybe because Unfortunately I’ve not yet been able to double check for certain if the events of this issue contradict anything previously established.
Off the cuff though...maybe. It sort of depends upon how you interpret some things. First of all the comic gives off the vibe that this is the first time Connors has turned into the Lizard since ASM #6. However it also makes it clear Connors has recently moved to NYC long term. This contradicts UToSM #9 wherein Connors transformed into the Lizard whilst simply visiting ESU in NYC. The Lizard’s dialogue makes it clear that from his POV he remembers meeting Spider-Man only once before.
The comic is also set in Peter’s high school years and is about him trying to win an ESU summer internship which will help him get into the school. Now I’m not knowledgable about the American school system but I’d imagine that if this was the case Peter wouldn’t be in his final year of high school. Why try and win a summer internship to help you get into college for the summer before you go to college. It’d make more sense for the summer before your senior year. This is important as Connors clearly wasn’t living in NYC long term until Peter’s final year of high school/first year of college.
Finally the issue also seems to imply Connors is telling the authorities the truth about how he turned into the Lizard and their dialogue implies they seem to be aware. Now again I might be forgetting some key information here, but I’m 90% sure that the authorities never knew Connors and the Lizard were one and the same.
Now here is the thing, I’m not 100% certain about any of that stuff and I’m also not convinced they’re impossible to reconcile or No. Prize in some way.
On that basis alone I can’t declare this story an inherently bad untold tale. Unlike last year’s symbiote annual where it was blatantly contradicting stuff from the Alien Costume Saga, and important aspects too, this issue ain’t as guilty. It’s not even as guilty if all those discrepancies I outlined above are in fact problems.
However the art work does hurt this story.
It’s not that it’s bad unto itself. I’d call it pedestrian. It’s like a refined and consistent Andre Araujo, but imagine that as much better than you might think at first hearing that; it’s a shame though Todd Nauck only does the cover as he is a better artist than Allen.
The problem with the artwork is that it is at odds with the dialogue. I do not mean one tells us one thing the other shows us another. No what I mean is the artwork is very modern. That’s not inherently a bad thing in untold tale stories. After all the superlative Sensational Spider-Man Annual 2007 had very modern artwork by Salvador Larocca and that created/re-created scenes circa the early-mid 1970s. In fact Oliffe and Frenz’s artwork on Untold Tales could never be truly said to look like Ditko’s work, albeit it was able to evoke a sense of the past, of classicalism. My point being doing a flashback story with more modern artwork is fine. And so is doing a flashback story with a more modern writing style; again see the Sensational Annual I mentioned. You don’t need to have more old fashioned sensibilities for either of those things...but you do need both to be on the same page.
That’s this issue’s biggest problem in terms of craftsmanship. The dialogue is incredibly dated, it feels very 1960s albeit slightly modernized. In this sense it’s a close cousin to Untold Tales. But the artwork is simply way too modern looking and modern in how it tells the story visually to jive with that. Either a different artist should have been chosen or, more practically, the dialogue should’ve been revised to be more modern in it’s sensibilities.
The artwork isn’t just let down by the dialogue though as more than once I spotted distinctly modern fashions which I’m 99% sure weren’t around in the time period this comic is supposed to be happening in, even when adjusted for a sliding timescale.
As for the plot itself it has two major issues.
Firstly Lizzie’s death and Connor’s restoration isn’t just rote but it’s...it’s just bad. It’s cringey. It’s eye roll worthy, it’s undeniably the worst thing in the issue.
The second major issue is that...the story offers absolutely nothing.
When Untold Tales debuted it had a purpose. Untold tales style stories were fairly uncommon at the time. We’d not really gone back to explore the high school years all that much. During the Clone Saga going back to simpler times when you could be assured Peter Parker was Spider-Man held a lot of appeal. Similar the Sensational Annual (not even a true blue untold tale) was a fond farewell to the Spider Marriage. Other untold tales have alternated between giving us a unique POV we didn’t have before, expanding upon something, expanding upon it with the benefit of hindsight or at the very least existing to tie in with something else. Last year’s annual at least existed because of the Venom movie.
This story though...I do not know why this exists.
The only things of note are the (possible) first meeting between Peter Parker and Curt Connors and Curt hearing the name Silvermane for the first time. Also seeing the moment he permanently moved to NYC maybe?
Doesn’t seem like it was worth a whole story for any of those things.
Beyond that everything is same old same old. It’s totally cliché by the numbers Spider-Man without much personal life drama to spice it up even. Spidey spots a crisis, intervenes, personal life suffers. That’s it. Someone pisses off Curt Connors, he turns into the Lizard, Spidey fights him, he turns back to normal. That’s it. It’s not even like it’s a standard 1960s issue, it’s a Spider-Man ready-meal basically.
The best thing about it is the pacing to be honest.
Yeah I can’t recommend this.
#Lizard#the Lizard#Curt Connors#Spider-Man#Peter Parker#Ralph Macchio#Kurt Busieck#Steve Ditko#Stan Lee
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