#like there's this whole situation going on at large that agonizes the other characters. that threatens everything. that's the reality of th

[sukugo]

there's something terribly soft about sukugo, which i think is very interesting when put beside the conception that exists of their characters, or really, what their characters actually are and stand for.

bc sukuna and gojo are the strongest. they represent jujutsu in its entirety and carry the true essence of it in their selves. they are jujutsu personified.

and the world of jujutsu is not easy, it's cold and ruthless and destructive. and they are the pinnacle of this endlessly cruel world, drenched in death and everything that jujutsu entails, capable of so much destruction and horror (are even considered to be inhuman)

but then, their relationship with each other, is not so.

it's... the opposite. their relationship is one of joy, of fulfillment, and love. it's not destructive, it's not cold or ruthless. it's warm and loving and constructive. there's a thread of tenderness that laces all their interactions, from the very first till the very last.

and you can really see it in the entirety of their confrontation. it's joyous, they're ecstatic. even in the end, when sukuna finally kills gojo. it's all warmth. it's all love. gojo's death isn't sad. it's joyful. he dies with a smile on his face. sukuna smiles back at him. they give each other, not take from each other. gojo gives love and sukuna gives love back. and that's what ultimately leads to the culmination of their battle. gojo dies for that love, by that love.

#but it's still all love. #there's genuine fondness between them!!! they LOVE each other!!! #it's all so. idk if to say out of place. but it kinda is? #like there's this whole situation going on at large that agonizes the other characters. that threatens everything. that's the reality of th #ir world #but then they're just there. pouring love at each other. smiling at each other. #it's out of place. jujutsu is a cold world. this kind of warmth seems unfit. #f.txt #jjk #sukugo #gosuku #like i was thinking about how it's kinda funny that they're so fucked up and THEM. but still i really love thinking about soft sukugo. #and giving it thought i realize that no. they ARE soft. they are genuinely SOFT. #they're fucked in the head yes. they're jujutsu sorcerers. that's the whole thing #but they're capable of love. and they DO SHOW It. they give it to each other. #fsjdfhdsjf sukugo is kinda one of those ships that LOOKS fucked up and unhealthy but is actually really wholesome lmaoo #they have nasty crazy bloody sex. they completely tear each other apart #but then they kiss each other's foreheads so softly and lovingly and smile into each other's lips

[wishing-stones]

How do your takes on the boys set them apart from others do you think?

I'll be refering to them with their call names in this one

Targe(Killer) is a little difficult to say this for, because I think he's pretty standard. I'll say maybe that it's his loyalty to Nightmare that makes him unique. I haven't seen a lot of people explore that close friendship they have going on, the unwavering loyalty that doesn't often get explained. Killer owes Nightmare his life for rescuing him from his AU. Also, Targe is really, really competent. Scary smart, thinks quickly on his feet, and doesn't let his authority go questioned. He's a fantastic leader, not just a chaos gremlin.

Mote(Dust) is also hard to answer this for since I don't have a ton of other Dust interpretations to go off of. I'd say he's maybe a little more down-to-earth and... present? Than other takes I've seen on him. That he's not so lost in his delusions constantly. They're there, they're integral to his character, but he's also clever and resourceful. He's quiet, but he pays attention. I think I've said before that his character is the one closest still to his canon counterpart-- he's really just Sans who had an infinite run of Really Bad Days.

Haft(Axe) is a lot more chill than other Horrors I've seen. He doesn't regret what he's done at all-- he did what he had to in order to survive, and he's settled whatever guilt he might have had over that fact. He's also still blisteringly smart, and I have seen Horror played to be a little... dim sometimes, which does him an incredible disservice IMO. His 'canon' self (in the HT comic) is still smart, just a really jaded and kind of twisted survivalist. Haft has gone past that and into resolved survivalist. Suvival by whatever means necessary-- he had to defend himself and his brother more times than he cares to admit. Still... he's a big softy under it. He's a kind person at heart, he's just not gonna agonize over doing whatever needs doing. Haft also has a better relationship with food than I've seen portrayed. He's had time to work on it in his service to Nightmare.

Saltire(Cross) gets along with the guys a lot better than other instances of Cross I've seen with the BSG. He's also not as guilt-ridden, as his situation is fairly permanent. He's safe and secure in Nightmare's Hold, he does what he must in order to get by, and all things considered... it's not so bad. He has good food and drink, a nice room, gets to stretch his legs a bit with multiversal jaunts, a dedicated place to train, and a leader who respects and appreciates his capabilities. He's free here. Still, he's pretty withdrawn and takes a long time to trust, especially if someone (Killer) has stung him in the past. Sal... wants to move forward, even though his past weighs him down heavily. He reminds me of a big standoffish white wolf.

Sorpor(Baggs) doesn't have a whole lot different than his source material. I try to write him as close to canon as I can. The most he has that's different is that he's a little taller and knows about the multiverse. The latter can and probably will cause some interesting divergence from his canon timeline, considering he's aware of resets and how they can go (read: really badly). He has perephreral knowledge about some other things that can happen to the underground as well (Flowey, namely-- he wasn't present for the Photoshop Flowey fight, but he heard about it in therapy sessions). I'd say over time he's also gotten a little bit more direct because trying to manipulate the guys into what you want them to do is harder when they'll dance around with you. Straight and to the point gets more results with them, so he becomes a little more forceful. He also sleeps on a fairly regular basis, which makes him much more pleasant to be around constantly.

Umbrose(Nightmare) is fairly standard of the "classy" Nightmare variety. He enjoys his finer luxuries and arts, speaks largely without contractions, and uses big words. He likes to exude elegance and charisma, because while fierce can achieve results, it takes much less energy to simply... coax others into doing what you want. He's had years to chill out from utter violence, so he elects to do things in a fashion that doesn't tire him out consistently. He's also a fantastic leader. He treats all his underlings fairly and sees to it that they want for nothing. Ensuring their loyalty is important to him-- otherwise they could turn on him, and that would be bad. (I have some issues with the more abusive dynamics you see around with the BSG and him. You can only tettorize and threaten your minions into submission for so long before they plan mutiny). He's pretty chill, but no less intense in pursuing what he wants-- he's just smarter about it.

Aubade(Dream) is way more mature than a lot of takes on Dream I've seen around. He is tired. He wants to stop fighting with his brother. He doesn't understand where things went wrong and it eats him. At his core, he is existentially exhausted, but continues to do what he does out of duty. Certainly, he loves his friends and they do make him genuinely happy... but he's so tired, and if you look deeper into his actions, it shows. He also swears. He's not the perfect angel that can do no wrong, and he knows it. There are necessary evils that even the guardian of positivity must do. He's also aware that positivity does not equal goodness, and negativity does not equal badness. He's a little jaded, but understands that balance is a requirement in the multiverse, and so he has to keep doing his job. He's not afraid to take a life or beat someone to a pulp, though he'll issue warnings before he does.

Haboku(Ink) is a little more stable by proxy of being around his friends so much. Dream helps to remind him to take his paints regularly, and Blue will bully him into it if he has to. He's clever, too clever by half. He'll play to someones ignorant perception of him and has no issue letting them continue to think that he's an idiot with the memory of a goldfish and the attention span of a squirrel. He also enjoys stirring shit. He'll cause trouble just to cause it sometimes, but usually is good about not doing anything that will hurt he or his friends. He's fairly dutiful as well, and will protect the multiverse by any means necessary. Any. means. He is otherwise a pretty happy goofball who likes to make sure everyone around him is doing okay. He's honestly a sweet person if you're in good with him. He doesn't like to see unnecessary suffering.

Zaffre(Blue) has a knowledge of the multiverse and has been travelling it for a while. He's of the 'Jaded Blue' variety who tends to help Dream be Ink's leash. Still, he's a very happy guy who loves adventure and loves his friends. He's very passionate. He's no-nonsense. If you mess with what he cares about, gods grant you mercy because he won't. He hasn't killed, but he's certainly beaten a few people within an inch of their life in self defense or in defense of others. He's scary competent, and has a sense of duty to the multiverse much like Dream does. He is, at his core, still a Sans, though, so he is also incredibly intelligent and observant. He also still likes puns and practical jokes, which is not a trait I see applied to Blue very often! He does the whoopee cushion in the hand trick.

#k answers #k headcanons #feat. r&r crew #feat. star sanses #interestingly enough I don't have call names for error or xchara #wall of text and character meta ahead

[archer3-13]

I HAVE COMPLETED ALL OF THE STARTING CLASS QUESTLINES IN FFXIV, SO HERES AN OFF THE CUFF COMPARISON OF THE STARTING CLASSES

this will all be subject to opinion of course, but idk i wanna do it.

starting with, how do each of the starting classes play before you upgrade to the proper jobs?

not well on the whole if im being honest. i dont think any one of the classes stand out in the below 30 range, a consequence of being the basic building blocks of the game but still. from best to worst

1 pugilist: its fast, it hits hard, its gimmick is easy to grasp, and it gives you a good collection of tools to easily slip in to how people generally play this insane game. the only bit i have a problem with would be steel peak and the chakra gauge, as steel peak feels pretty useless at the pugilist level [it hits slightly harder then a normal hit, but your basic combo is just better in every way then the set up it needs].

2 lancer: rather plain missionary as far as a dps class goes, though i feel thats to its benefit in many ways as its real simple to figure out and use. plus javelins are a nice poking tool as everyone charges recklessly ahead. what brings the class down somewhat is that it has no aoe before dragoon and that it feels sluggish compared to something like pugilist. hit sound effect is deliciously cronchy though.

3 archer: pretty much everything you'd realistically want from the class honestly, it feels a bit sluggish at the start but when ya unlock the aoe shooting the class quickly becomes one of the best for handling large groups of enemies. its solid all around if somewhat unexciting at times sitting in the back shooting arrows.

4 marauder/gladiator: putting them together because they play exactly the bloody same below 30. thankfully despite the worry i had going into a tanking class, i found myself rather enjoying the kit. the most difference between the two i'll note is that marauder is more aggressive well gladiator is more reactive as far as tanking goes. but again, at the below 30 level they play exactly the bloody same.

5 rogue: id like this class more if its kit was a bit bigger. like lancer its lacking aoe before upgrade but unlike lancer its kit is way too small to offer much variety in how you approach situations. plus the hide and backstab stuff is only really useful, so far anyways, in story moments or open world cheese. regardless, the class is fast and hits well so its feels exhilarating to use.

6 arcanist: its kinda intimidating when ya first get hold of it, but i find once ya get a grasp on the class its actually one of the more fun ones to play at low level. i feel it hits harder and faster then other magic classes, you can do a lot with it, and getting the rhythm for its use feels real satisfying.

7 conjurer: being a low level healer feels agonizing, your squishy, you cant hit too hard or fast, and the micromanaging feels daunting especially when your first getting used to the class. and when ya get the hang of it, it doesn't feel quite as rewarding as other classes as your generally stuck to the tanks ass, and if your arent stuck to the tanks ass then shits gone horribly wrong. atleast people seem to appreciate you more.

8 thaumaturge: unlike conjurer which was cursed by design as a basic bitch healer, thaumaturge feels awful to play on the whole in my experience. ironically you dont feel like your hitting as hard as the arcanist, your slower, the switching gauge gets annoying, and ya cant really do anything exciting with the class. i dont hate it, but i do think if a new player is starting with it, they'd get a pretty aggravating impression of the game.

and now, onto the stories of the class questlines themselves! again from best to worst

1 rogue: massively benefits from being the late comer. its more extensive, more cinematic, the character writing well not anything extraordinary is still solid overall, and well the quests can be a bit lengthy they do offer interesting things to do.

2 lancer: gets to rest at the top of the pile less because of anything specific it does and more so because of how it stands out. the only class quest line that functions as an honest to god tragedy/parable/whatever ya wanna call it which elevates it otherwise smaller nature compared to other class quests. i dont feel foulques is actually all that interesting of a character, and if another starting class questline took a similar approach as the lancer quests then i feel he'd be far less memorable [as hes just kinda a self important ass at the end of the day, despite his tragic backstory]. Still, in the lancer quests case, simplicity is elegance in that the quests are straightforward and the story direct in its impact. inelegant definitely. unique, definitely.

3 conjurer: its okay. doesn't trip over itself, says what it wants to say, and has you doing things that arent too much of a hassle. i really like its ending scene too where... conjurer girl finally properly connects with the nature magic vibes for the first time, and remarks on how much more alive everything now feels. its euphoric in a way, and makes the process of getting to the end refreshing.

4 pugilist: dumb but in a fun way, the quest stories for pugilist dont take themselves too seriously and just have fun with what they're doing and in that sense it makes the pugilist quests a lot more fun then i think they would be otherwise. its not a gutbuster, but its intentional comedy that lands which is to its favour. some of the quests themselves can be kinda annoying to do though.

5 archer: kinda bland and it trips over itself getting to the end. i like what its trying to do, taking two characters who follow diametric beliefs about archery and who get at each others throats, only to come together in the end to emphasize the benefits of cooperation, cultural exchanges and crosses, and to tie to archeries literal history within gridanias context. elezen dudes a bit too prickly though without getting enough redressing on the matter, miqo'te girl is underwritten which makes her struggles not land with as much weight as they should, and i feel the plot takes such a sharp turn into the poacher bandit thing that the ending lands with more of a whimper then a bang. plus the quests themselves can be rather annoying. still, it was trying to do something interesting and didn't completely fail in that regard.

6 gladiator: i like some of the character dynamics at play and the quests dont suck. the story is too ambitious for its actual runtime though, so everything feels rushed and underwritten, and theres nothing really at play here that connects too deeply to what it means to be a ffxiv gladiator either in terms of themes, setting or even just on a functional gameplay level like all of the above classes. those characters are the only thing holdin it at 6 really.

7 arcanist: im not a big fan on glasses characters so a story heavily featuring them and generic genius academic type characters who prattle on about statistics and probability or what not... well that wasn't gonna be a slam dunk for me. the plot for these ones also just feels meandering, and like the archer plot it takes a hard swerve into the new thing it introduces at the tail end to its own detriment, only even more so. at the end of the day im just not sure what they were trying to do here overall. plus some of the quests are kinda a pain to complete.

8 marauder: boooooooooring. not only is the story a drag, but its characters are not interesting in the slightest save for like... one joke about marauders not being good at subtly. plus its difficult to have a story where your antagonistic force is a monsterous animal that doesnt speak human, unless you really well characterize the monster or have good characters on the side. and the marauder quests dont do either of these. finally what doesn't help is that the quests themselves are kinda boring to play.

9 thaumaturge: this one legit pisses me off, and it has everything to do with the story and nothing to do with the characters. im not a big fan of the characters mind, but they're fine. whats happening though in terms of character actions and plot movement is just stupid though, especially that damn jar with the devil in it. and to top it off, the ending feels anti climatic as fuck! the one brother well possessed goes around killing at least a dozen people, yet theres no remark on the matter after the possession and the intended theme to be take away from all this is "believe in yourself :)". fuck this questline.

#final fantasy xiv #ffxiv

[meanlesbean]

Chapter commentary

are people interested in seeing my chapter commentary for Cadence of a Legacy? idk. I'm posting it anyway. voila.

Chapter 1 notes are longer than the others because I included more detail about the planning of the fic. Anyway, here there be: musings on family and brotherhood and how it shows up in linked universe fanworks, Hyrule as an arsonist, Wild's economy, and more info about card games than anyone else probably cares about. minor totk spoilers about one sidequest but nothing plot related (if you need, skip the bullet that starts "pre-totk release".) Here we go:

Chapter 1 - The Woods Between

I am not joking about having a phone note that says “making peace with your inner child when your inner child has physically manifested and wants to cause problems on purpose”. I would include a screenshot of said note, but then you would all see how long I have been toying with this idea and that’s too embarrassing

IMO, there is an astounding lack of fic focusing on the relationship between Time and Twilight even though they are the only ones who interact in game canon. And I’ve read every good Time-centric fic probably a dozen times. So unfortunately that meant I had to go write my own. Unfortunately the plot that I came up with doesn’t work with Time (or Mask) as the POV character, so it evolved into a Twilight-centric fic as well. 

The bones of this chapter were mostly written in a notebook last year at my terrible job when I had a desk in the corner and nothing to do 85% of the time. Large parts of the set up of the chapter remain the same from this draft, with even a select few of the lines staying the same word for word. But the handwritten version, which covered all of Chapter 1 and parts of Chapter 2, was only about 7 pages front and back (rip to the 11k monster it became)

Literally I never would have posted this fic if I hadn’t read the the FMA fic series demon alchemist and realized that the reason I hated my draft so much was because the narrative voice was too impersonal

So I started working on this fic again last fall with a lot more attention paid to establishing a clear voice, and I finally started making solid progress, to the point where I made it a goal to share it on AO3, which I have not done in a long long time

Hyrule’s missing fingers are a reference to the demon alchemist series btw. I do imagine he lost them from an enemy’s throwing ax or mace. Twilight complaining about the number of enemies with throwing weapons is also me complaining about how hard Zelda II is. fucking Dairas. 

Other fic inspiration includes: Call Them Brothers, for getting me thinking about situations in which Warriors doesn’t know that Time is the kid he fought with in the war, and more generally, Sinnatious’ LU and LOZ fics for inspiration on Time’s voice. 

I cannot tell you how much time I spent rewriting and reworking the first half of the chapter. Honestly writing that first part was just like. Agonizing. Nothing was working for so long. Every time I tried fixing a problem, I created two more. I was very close to cutting out the scene of Twilight scouting and the camp shenanigans and skipping to Twilight meeting Mask, but then it felt like everything went way too quick. I was very relieved when people liked the wrestling scenes because that whole section had me tearing my hair out. The things that kept me going were spite and also how desperate I’ve been to get back into writing. Literally that one defunctland tweet. 

In contrast, the second half of the chapter (everything from the Epona grooming scene on) came so easy. All of the latter stuff was written and edited within like 2 weeks. My favorite scene from this chapter actually ended up being that part with Twilight and Time taking care of Epona. 

More specific notes:

My take on Twilight’s aversion/distrust of magic is that he has a really strong sense for it, but he doesn’t have much of a knowledge base of how magic works. So this results in Twilight frequently getting a lot of information that he can’t make sense of, and it really fucking freaks him out. 

I know fandom likes to characterize Wild as the group arsonist, but I think Hyrule would be just as big if not a bigger arsonist, which was why I had him be the one to suggest using fire. If you want to uncover all the hidden items/heart pieces in the OG Zelda without a guide or walkthrough, you have to burn so many trees. Like, if you are ever stuck in that game and don’t know where to go next, 70% of the time your solution is either bombs or fire. 

I played ten thousand rounds of “should their titles (ie. rancher, captain, etc) be lowercase or capitalized?” while writing this. I know people usually have them call each other their fandom names, but tbh that always throws me off just a little, even though I 100% get why people do it because good lord it would be easier.

I feel like a lot of LU works (speaking generally about the fandom output as a whole, not about any particular fic) leans heavily into the emotional support and comradery aspect of the chain as family, and does not include nearly enough of like. annoying each other on purpose and play violence and rubbing each others’ faces in the dirt. which is a big reason for why I kept the wrestling scene.

Maybe it’s because me and my family members were little demons but like. I have brothers and mostly boy cousins, and a solid 60% of our time as kids/teens was spent playing some variation of King of the Rock. I appreciate the found family softness, and there will definitely be a lot of that in this fic, but my experience with siblinghood includes a lot of chasing each other around with wiffle ball bats and trying to strangle each other. The Links are brothers! and sometimes that means that you will try to ruin your brother’s whole day just because you are mildly bored. 

Warriors and the teens are playing Rummy. I imagine that the group plays a lot of card games, and since I grew up playing tons of cards, I have put way too much thought into all of this. Other popular games among the group (depending on how many people they have) probably include Texas (Ordon?) hold em, whist, knockout, BS, gin rummy, and hearts. Hearts can get contentious with them though because you can engage in coordinated sabotage. Four and Legend are not allowed to be partners in Whist because they’re the only ones who can count all the cards in play. There is a near-unanimous group ban on Spoons because it got too violent.  

Legend having heterochromia is inspired by an Oracles manga panel redraw someone posted on here years ago that I cannot for the life of me find again

I have this headcanon that Wild, in comparison to the rest of the gang, is absurdly rich but does not really realize it because he just does not have a ton of shit to actually spend money on. This is based on the ridiculous amount of rupees/gems I have on my 100% botw file and also my own musings on the state of Hyrule’s economy post-calamity. Mostly I think that post-calamity Hyrule does not have super discrete classes like most other Hyrules do, and that a luxury economy does not really exist. 

Pre-totk release I actually thought: okay, Wild has a lot of money, but his luxury purchases are limited to like fancy armor, which is directly related to doing his job as the hero. It’s not like most other eras where you can go build wealth by buying up a ton of land. And then totk came around and let you go buy a sizable swatch of land. I still think my original idea mostly holds true, if only because the monster-free areas of Hyrule where someone could safely make a land claim still seem to be pretty limited (even the totk house has monster camps right across the road from it). 

Mask is not dressed in the green tunic for two main reasons, one of which I’ll keep to myself because it felt way too spoilery when I wrote it down. Most importantly, it shows that time has passed since Majora’s Mask. In fact, in chapter 3 we'll learn that it's been just about a year since then. The Kokiri tunic is no more because he grew out of it :( 

I didn’t find this reference until after publishing, but I imagine he’s dressed more or less like this. Except he has his green cap and a leather belt, baldric, and boots.

#okay back to my nemesis (writing chapter 3) #cadence fic #cadence commentary

[chasingmidnights]

What's One Gotta Do To Get Some Sleep Around Here?

Title: What’s One Gotta Do To Get Some Sleep Around Here? 

Summary: Being on the run and being public enemy number one meant you were always on high alert. But what you wouldn’t give to curl up in a bed right now and get a solid night’s sleep. 

Warnings: sleep deprivation; guns/gun violence; shooting/getting shot; character injury; mentions of death/child death; mentions of buildings being bombed; and I think those are the major ones to look for. If I missed anything I apologize but you are responsible for what you read. 

Author’s Note: Might have had some inspiration from the movie, SALT with Angelina Jolie. 

Wordcount: 937

To say you were exhausted would be an understatement. You had been on the run for the last seventy-two hours and were operating on pure adrenaline. Constantly having to look over your shoulder didn’t give you many chances to get a decent rest. It was all fiction of course but when they came to arrest you, your instinct was to run and that’s what you did. Your crime? Bombing an important embassy which killed several important politicians and bureaucrats inside. What’s even worse? The orphanage that was next door as collateral damage, killing even more people. 

People were in an uproar about the whole situation and within hours your face was plastered all over the news. You couldn’t believe this was happening, it didn’t make sense. You weren’t even in that country when it happened! You were half-way across the world in California. You only hoped that they were smart enough to figure it out. Before climbing onto the bus, you glanced over your shoulder to make sure you weren’t being followed. Even though you didn’t see anyone, you tugged the hood of your jacket closer to your face. You handed the driver your ticket and found a spot towards the middle. 

You stared out the bus window, doing your best not to fall asleep. It was becoming harder though and you couldn’t remember the last time you closed your eyes for more than five minutes. You wanted to so badly but you knew you couldn’t risk it. Sleep would be your downfall at this moment. As hard as you tried to not fall asleep, it soon overtook you. You’re not sure how long you’d been asleep for and if it wasn’t for the large pothole that the bus happened to hit, you probably would’ve kept sleeping. When the bus driver announced the next stop, you decided that it would be best to get off. 

The bus jerks forward as it comes to a stop and your eyes widen in fear. Surrounding the bus terminal were at least half a dozen squad cars and leading the charge was none other than Special Agent Everett Ross. You stand up from your seat as you watch Ross pull out a giant megaphone. He calls out your name and commands you to surrender. You look down to the floor of the bus as you let out a huff of air. Putting on your best face forward, you lift your head up proudly and begin to walk off of the bus. You could feel everyone’s eyes on you as you walked down the aisle. When you get to the door of the bus, Special Agent Ross commands you to raise your hands. You do as you’re told, taking the final step off of the bus. Ross along with the other agents slowly begin to approach you and you can see the smirk forming on Everett's face. No, fuck this. No way in HELL were you going down like this. You frantically look all around for a way out when you spot the overpass. It was a risk but it would be worth it if you got out of here alive. You take a deep breath and think, screw it. 

You bolted and went straight for the overpass. You should’ve known that as soon as you ran that they would’ve started to open fire on you. As you ran up the overpass, you zig-zagged your direction hoping to miss any oncoming bullets. For the most part, it seemed to have worked. Except for when one managed to graze your left shoulder. You screamed out in agonizing pain. You could hear yelling behind you but you couldn’t quite make it out, you were too focused on the pain in your shoulder. Not to mention a ringing had formed in your ears. It was Special Agent Everett Ross who was yelling at his fellow agents. 

“Stop shooting! I want her alive! Stop shooting!” Spit was flying from his mouth as he yelled. 

The shooting finally stopped as the last few rounds went off. You were crouched down and had your hand covering the back of your head. You glanced over to the side of the bridge and through the cement columns you could see a semi approaching on the highway below. Looking down at the pavement for a brief moment, you then look back at the semi. You begin to question your sanity at this point. Where are these ideas coming from? Was it from the lack of sleep or were you always this insane? You took a deep breath and just as the semi truck was about to go under the bridge, you bolted to the other side. 

Everett watched, completely stunned at what you were doing, he even questioned it. “What is she doing?” 

You jumped over the top of the concrete railing of the bridge and all of the air left your lungs. You landed with a hard thud on top of the semi truck’s trailer. You couldn’t believe that actually worked, maybe you should be sleep deprived more often. You stay low to the top of the semi as it continues to travel down the highway. You look over your shoulder and see Special Agent Everett Ross and the other agents standing at the overpass bridge. A smirk tugs up at the corner of your lips and you can just barely see the baffled expression on his face. 

Once this was over or once you found a safe place, whichever comes first, you were sleeping for a month straight. You were completely exhausted and could use the much needed rest.

#tales of a whumpee newbie #october writing challenge #writing challenge #everett ross #marvel one shot #marvel characters

[purityoflust]

The Smile [Jeff The Killer X Victim!Reader] [PART 2]

Jeff the killer X Victim!

WARNING: Yandere. That's it. Yandere.

I finally decided how I would write part 2 to The Smile, which is my first and most popular post on my account so far. Anyone new who has come to read this, check out my other posts as well if you'd like. I'll post more like this. I also have a Quotev account with more fanfictions.

9/12/20, 3/4 days after the top part: God, AFTER SO LONG, I FINALLY DID IT! Took me days! I'm so sorry if this is a bit lazy, it is a tiny bit rushed by the end but how would you guys feel about a detailed part 3? I'll probably go as far as a part 3 or part 4 for the final part.

The vibrations in your brain felt warm and numbing - almost like when you have a horrible migraine and you can finally feel it subsiding with your eyes closed and your fingers gently holding down onto your eyelids as if you're holding your eyes into place to prevent them from bursting out of your skull. Upon waking up you can feel cold air settling into your skin. You haven't been awake 3 minutes and you already know what you're resting on; an extremely uncomfortable metal table. You've only seen them in movies but this was real.

The sound of a singsong voice just slightly echoing through what seemed like a moderately empty room. You groaned softly as you turned your head to your right, very slowly opening your eyes. Your vision blurred in and out, which, you wanted to rub to clear it out but as you went to lift your wrists, you felt pressure around them.

Something was holding your arms down. This catches your attention, blinking multiple times while turning your head back up straight and attempting to sit up. You were hardly successful with that, struggling while grunting under your breath to pull your hands from under what seemed to be a thick rope. As you pulled harder, you sucked in your stomach out of habit before immediately coming to a halt and choking up in pain.

This whole time you were ignoring the voice that was singing eerily nearby, "You and me, always forever~"

The voice was of a male. Scratchy, shaky. Familiar.

Familiar.

You could feel a string of your heart pop out of place as your breath stopped. That's when you knew something was wrong, but it just doesn't add up. You gulp while your eyeballs vigorously glance around to see where the source was coming from, only to see a figure in a corner. It was doubled over and it was sitting down on a simple wooden chair. Doubling over a...table? An average male figure, nothing unique. Although, the clothing style was unusual. At least what was on the clothes. He wore a fluffy white hoodie and what seemed to be black pants and black-and-white converse. The problem wasn't the outfit, no. His hoodie was spotted and had patterns upon patterns of darkened and more fresh-looking blood splatter. He had long black hair down to his shoulders. And luckily, his back was facing you.

You were dumbfounded. How did you get here, why are you restrained, and why is there a blood covered man near you? Is that even blood? Maybe it's paint or a design? Some people do wear clothes that have different kinds of blood splatter designs on them. Hm. Or he's an actual murderer about to gut you like a fish.

You wanted to speak. You wanted to speak so badly but you just couldn't. As you parted your lips, your throat went dry while your gaze stayed locked onto the bloody male that sat before you. The singing made you shiver as you tried so hard to remember where you could have heard or seen him. Why can't you remember?

The male then turned around to look at you. His singing had come to a gentle halt. Your mouth closed as he did so, your throat going completely dry and your whole body feeling like an ice cube. You were greeted with cold blue eyes. They looked hungry and bloodthirsty, yet they held a warm affection as they looked into your traumatized eyes. It was almost comforting until you saw the rest of his face. His skin was snow white and his lips looked dry. That's when more attention is drawn to his lower jaw. He's smiling. Too big for a normal person.

That's when you realize. He has a large smile carved into his cheeks going from ear to ear while his own lips were curled within a smile as well. And that's when it hits you.

And it hits you hard.

The memories of hours prior start brutally crashing into you, flooding back into your numb brain. All of the realization replaced itself with agonizing anxiety, your heart starting to race at speeds that felt impossible. You could pass out, but something inside you kept you awake. Something about him and about this whole situation was making you dizzy. The male slowly stands and turns his body all the way to face you. He seemed deranged, yet, he had a very relaxed stance and body language.

Uncomfortable silence loomed in the air.

He kept staring at you before slowly taking steps forward. You watch him carefully as your head feels like it's spinning, which you could notice your vision blurring a little bit here and there. The silence is suddenly disturbed with the male speaking up again, choking up in giggles. "Oh my sweet Y/N, you're awake~" He cooed, now standing over you. He leaned himself down and reached his hand to your cheek, gently brushing your skin with his surprisingly soft thumb. He leaned his face closer to yours. The smell of booze, blood, & smoke overwhelmed your nostrils. Yet it didn't seem to bother you that much.

His touch almost kind of made you feel...at ease. Your heart slowed itself and your breathing went back to pace. You felt fine, somewhat, but something in your stomach was still sore. The more you stare at him, the more memories come flooding back. The more memories flooding back, the easier you fit the puzzles together.

"M-my...stomach..--" You stutter out painfully.

In response to this, the male turned his head over to your abdomen and gently rested his other hand onto your bandaged stomach, applying very gentle pressure on it as to not hurt you. It was still slightly painful, causing you to groan under your breath.

"Oh, this...I'm sorry, my sweet butterfly. I had to make sure you wouldn't get away, and you didn't! Don't worry, Jack patched you up, so you'll be just fine!"

You remember now. You remember it all. The chase, your friend, the salty kiss before what you thought was your demise.

You naturally wondered as well; who's Jack?

"Wh-.." You weakly force air out of your throat again to speak, "why am I..tied-?"

"Oh, so you wouldn't be able to get away. I knew you would run away, or struggles, so I had to make sure you wouldn't do that!"

He was right. You would run away and struggle to get out of whatever the hell kind of place you're in. Well, knowing what he looks like. He DID stab you, after all. Who knows what this sicko wants.

He lifts his hand from your stomach and turns back to you, gently placing both of his hands at each side of your face. "You're so beautiful, Y/N. So sweet and so innocent. I couldn't keep letting the others eat you up like candy. You're mine and only mine. I need to protect you."

"Wh-who- are you?" You weren't really all too scared for some strange reason now. You were pretty calm. Probably from all of the energy this is draining.

"His name is Jeff." A deep and gruff voice cuts in.

The both of you turn your heads to the door of the room where a tall figure in all black stood. He was about 6"4 wearing heavy boots, black jeans, and a black hoodie. His hair was a dark brown though while he wore a mask. The mask was a dark blue with black goo oozing from the eyesockets. He was pretty intimidating even just by standing idly like a character waiting to be loaded in.

"And I'm Jack." He continued, "I'm the one who took care of your wound."

Jack stepped closer, soon standing at the other side of the table. He stood at the left as Jeff stood at the right.

"He wouldn't stop insisting I help."

You just blink, unknowing of what to respond with. He pursed his lips under his dark mask, in his own thought for a moment while staring down at you. You seemed calm enough, and your still pretty fresh injury was gonna hold you back anyway.

"[P]-[Pronoun]'s gonna-!" He attempts to blurt out, only to be stopped by you.

"I won't."

You were untied at your wrists and ankles, allowing yourself to pull your legs up and rest your feet at the top of the table, propping your knees up. It made your stomach feel weird, but it felt kind of nose and felt like it was easing the pain. You wrapped your arms around your knees, looking around the room more. "What is this place?" You ask.

"It's a medical room."

"Huh.." You shrug it off. Your anxiety levels had died down and the more you actually think about it, this isn't the worst thing that's happened. Your life has been pretty fucked up and you have damaged relationships everywhere. Honestly, being around new people and being far away from others sounds not too bad right now. Not like anyone would care anyway.

The next few hours, you're introduced to everyone else at the Mansion. They've been so...unique and honestly, you're surprised some people and beings like them even exist. They were all equally surprised with how little fear you showed.

You actually got along with most of them.

The others have taken a liking to you and hope you hang around longer. Alone in the living room, you, Jeff, Jack, and others sit at the couches and chairs in the living room, chatting away and getting to know them as they get to know you.

You feel Jeff wrap his arms around you and place a gentle kiss on your forehead, making your heart skip a beat.

You found out Jeff has been stalking you for months at a time. Watching your every move, eliminating anyone in the way. Huh, no wonder so many people in your life kept disappearing. You...couldn't bring yourself to be upset or scared, let alone even sad. You felt kind of at ease.

And far from uncomfortable. Someone loved you. Maybe more than they should, but they love you.

You didn't even feel upset at the fact Jeff had murdered that friend earlier. I mean, you just met the guy, so he wasn't even a 'friend'? So you paid no mind to it.

If anything, you really liked the thrill of someone being obsessed with you. A serial killer being so infatuated with you. He could be so protective of you and get rid of anyone you asked him to! There's is an advantage here. You knew he could snap and probably kill you intentionally or unintentionally, but you didn't mind. You really had no one else, technically speaking. No one that really cared. Not as much as he did.

Maybe he isn't so bad.

#Jeff the killer x reader #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #part two #part 2 #yandere #male yandere #creepypasta x y/n #creepypasta x you #gender neutral #jeff the killer x you #jeff the killer x y/n #small series

[ac3id]

Plaything | 18+

plaything 0/ ?? | part 1

pairings: yandere! bully bakugou katsuki x fem! reader

warnings: [series] blackmail, bullying, dubcon/ noncon, filming w/o consent, yandere themes, no quirks au. ALL CHARACTERS ARE ABOVE 18 YEARS OF AGE.

↪ for chapter 0: dubcon, blackmail, humiliation.

summary: by luck, you get enrolled into u.a high the best school in your town. the only catch is that the school is filled with rich, spoilt, and powerful brats who just seem to hate you, and among them, a certain red-eyed blonde dreads you the most

↪ for chapter 0: you reject bakugou’s proposal to fuck in the dirty boys' washroom so he teaches you a lesson.

— navigation

wordcount. 2k+

a/n: hello !! so this is like a little introduction to my yandere! bully! bakugou series fic. there’s also going to a lot of other bnha character mentions but the main pairing will be w/ baku n reader. enjoy!

“bakugou, i don’t want to do this,” your voice is weak as you bite on your lower lip, trying to stop sinful moans from leaking out of your mouth. bakugo has you bent over the cold and wet sink counter, your chest pressed against the dirty marble while your skirt is flipped over your displaying your bare, perky round ass to his stalking eyes. “who are you calling bakugo?” he spanks your ass with force, making you lose your footing as your head bumps lightly against the mirror.

“sorry, master,” you answer barely above a whisper but it’s loud enough in the empty washroom for him to hear yet he makes you repeat yourself,

“what was that, brat? i couldn’t fucking hear you.” he spanks you again, his heavy hand coming in contact with your soft ass with ferocity sending you flying off your feet.

“i am sorry, master!” you exclaim a little loudly, hoping it would satisfy him. and it does. he scoffs crudely, ghosting his fingers over your pussy lips before dipping his large fingers between them and petting your dry hole. he plays with your cunt, stroking his fingers lovingly over your little pearl, gathering wetness as he slips one finger into your hole. pumping them in and out at a slow pace. he takes his time, building up your orgasm while laughing wickedly as you try to hold in your moans. his fingers inside your cunt increase their pace as your juices start dripping down to your thighs,

“you said you don’t want this?” while his right hand destroys your cunt, his other hand wraps around your small neck. grasping it lightly, making it harder for you to breathe. “why are you dripping everywhere like a slut? hm?”

he had pulled you aside from regular classes, declaring them boring as fuck and that he wanted to do something much better like; fucking you in the boys' washroom. you denied, you told him no. you wanted to attend the lesson and besides skipping with him wouldn’t be any good to you. he was not kind to you, he was a meanie. he still insisted; telling you it’s fine, he knows the material. he can just tutor you later. no harm done, see? see?

if there was anything you hated more than being stuck in the prestigious u.a. high where everyone seemed to be out for your blood was spending time with bakugo katsuki. and being with him alone was another nightmare. he hated you. you didn’t know why, he’d never say why. you just assumed it was because of that one time you accidentally spilled coffee on him or maybe it was just because you breathed. honestly, both seemed favorable in this situation.

after many failed attempts of convincing you to come with him, he gets fed up. he pulls out his phone and shoves it into your face. his screen displays pictures of you which he had taken before and the ones which you had sent him. they are all lewd shots. pictures of you sucking him off while looking into the camera with glassy eyes illuminated the screen and as you swiped right it changed to another with the same background, lighting, and angle but the only difference being that your face was now covered with his seed while you posed for the camera with an innocent smile.

a look deeper into his gallery and you find your nudes which bakugo had forced you to take. it was necessary for you to be naked with your tits and ass being visible, he also wanted to see your face and would never settle for anything else. he never settles for anything without your face in it, makes you take those shots again and again until he’s satisfied with the results. he saves them, all of them. even the ‘bad ones' have been screenshotted and saved onto his phone for his personal use. he never tells what he uses them for but you don’t need to hear it from him. you already know he’s jerking off to each one of them every night before he goes to sleep.

it’s funny, anyone could take a look at those pictures and find out they are not photos exchanged between lovers. your expressions- no matter how hard you try, you always end up looking like you want to cry. there’s fear in your eyes and it just doesn’t feel authentic. it looks forced. like someone had put a gun to your head while you sat and took them. and well, that’s not a far-fetched idea.

he promises these are for his eyes only, “no one else gets to you like this. you are mine.” his words exactly but when his friends also start staring at you with lust-ridden eyes, you can’t help but question his words.

he blackmails you into coming with him. threatening he’d leak those pictures all around the school if you didn’t come with him as if he hadn’t already. as if your compromising photos weren’t already saved in all of your classmates’ phones anyway. bakugo should give himself a pat on the back, he’s such a great actor!

“for someone who doesn’t want this,” his demeaning, rude voice pulls you back from the dreamland you were trying to escape to. he forces you nearer to your edge, tiny whimpers leave your lips accompanied with loud moans as his fingers brush deliciously against your sweet spot. your precious cunt greedily pulls him in deeper and deeper, inviting him graciously into your womb but unfortunately, his fingers aren’t that long. but you know what is?

“you sure are dripping like a whore.” with every whimper which leaves your supple lips, bakugo feels himself get harder. his pants tighten as a bulge starts straining against his expensive, pleated bottoms. the hand prettily choking your neck detaches itself leaving you inhaling puffs of air as he works his pants off his hips. as you hear the rattling of his belt coming undone, a loud cry enough to draw attention from others outside of the room leaves your throat.

it catches bakugo off guard but nonetheless helps him get even harder, he likes to make you cry and get off to it. “why are you crying, bitch? it’s not doing you any favors here.” his fingers rub against your swollen, little pearl while lining up his fat cock to your blinking hole. “please, bakugo, don’t. i will do anything, anything else. just not this, i’ve never done this before.” you sound pathetic. your voice breaking with every word you utter. big, fat tears rolling down your cheeks while you ugly cried. bakugo almost feels sorry.

but in all honesty, he really couldn't care less about you. all your whining and crying only incite him further as ruthless ideas to break you down flood his mind. the kindest so far being him taking you right here and now but, but a sudden flash of seeing you utterly broken and in misery flashed before his eyes and he couldn’t let go of it. he wanted to see you tremble much more than you were right now. he wanted to see you cry much more than you were crying right now. Maybe he did hate you, he always pushed you around like you were his little pet of some sort to prove a point- that he is better than you. he is superior, you must respect him. you should kiss the ground he walks on, you should let yourself be his little plaything. then maybe, he’ll let you loose? who knows, he might just get even more obsessed.

as he watches you cry beneath him, your pathetic whimpers reverberating off the marble walls, a wicked idea pops into his head. he pulls his dick away from your exposed hole instead, replacing it with his fingers like before. “fine, brat.” his voice is softer, it surprises you. was he not going to rape you after all? “just because you said anything.” there it is again, the edge in his voice that makes you regret what you said. now, you know he has something worse planned for you. but it’s too late, you can’t go against your word now. you said anything, get ready to do anything. “stop squirming, i’m trying to make you cum. god knows whether you can even do that for yourself.” you most definitely can.

"a bitch like you needs someone to do everything for her.” again, you are probably the most independent student in the whole school,

“am I right, princess?” you are so wrong. “yes, master.”

no matter how crude and humiliating his words were and how much you hated his voice, you still found yourself clenching around his fingers almost ripping them off. your cunt squeezed his digits tightly as the coil building in your stomach tightened. moans of his name echoed all over the room as you felt yourself come closer. bakugo was taking his time playing with you, drawing you out making your release painfully slow as a form of revenge. you begged for him to play with your little clit so you could achieve ecstasy but he was too petty. after minutes of agonizing you to the point, there were tears streaming down your face and drool escaping your lips, falling onto the wet counter. he finally decided to flick his finger against your hardened bud. rubbing tight circles, he played with it aimlessly until he felt the gush of wetness around his fingers and the high-pitched scream which left your mouth as you came. his other hand pumped his still-hard cock. he was still pissed that he wouldn’t be able to cum inside you but it was fine for now. he had something much brutal set up in his mind for his plaything, he was aware that what he was planning might completely destroy but he figured it was worth it. much better to have a mindless slave who lives to fulfill her master’s wishes anyway.

he lets go of you, backing away with his hard cock still out and aching for relief. the huge head blushed red and leaking with pre, too bad he won’t get to finish inside of you yet. you quickly walk away from him, bending forward to search for your discarded panties. bakugo grunts at the sight of your wet pussy presenting itself to him, riling him up even more than he already was. He wastes no time pumping his cock at the sight of your exposed bottom, gasp and groans of pleasure escaping his lips,

“oi, what the fuck are you doing?” he asks, catching you sliding your panties on your legs. you turn around to face him, face burning when you are met with him stroking his cock at your movements. your eyes almost can’t leave the sight of his leaking cock, hard and begging to be played with and as much as you to admit it; it lights a fire inside you.

“stop fucking staring, you’re making it worse,” he growls and you immediately turn your eyes to his face. he smirks, “what? do you want it now? too bad, it’s too late,” he taunts. his eyes trail your body, eyebrows furrowing when he looks down your legs. “who told you to wear them,” he points at your panties between your legs. you give him a confused look, “you’re not allowed to put them on. give them to me,” he commands and panic crosses your eyes. you hesitate for a moment, debating whether you should listen to him or not. his fists clench as he glares at you, sending shivers down your spine, “what are looking at! give!” he speaks louder this time in a demanding tone as if he was scolding a little child who had picked up something from his office. your fingers tremble as you reach out to give the pink fabric to him, “leave.” what? you look at him in confusion. your big, doe eyes racking fear and anxiety. you wait for him to laugh or make a sarcastic remark about how gullible you are but it never comes. instead, he wraps your cotton panties around his cock, right in front of you, and begins jerking himself off. you are disgusted and petrified by his shameless actions, “what are you standing here for? leave. remember you said anything?” yeah, so you did. and you regret it already.

your legs tremble as you walk towards the door, pushing it open and peaking your head to check for people in the hallway. once you find it empty you walk out to the outside before sparing one last glance inside the dirty washroom. you hope for bakugo to call out to you, call you back but all you see is him cumming thick ropes into your panties while his eyes are screwed shut in ecstasy. yeah, you weren’t getting those back.

with shame and defeat written all over your face, you make your back to your classroom. your face is heated with embarrassment and humiliation as you remember you are walking around practically naked just an accident away from flashing yourself to anyone who cares to see. for the better half of the day, you walk around tugging your skirt as low as it can get. you don’t see bakugo for the rest of the day as he leaves you alone but when you do catch his eyes for a second or two, the wicked grin stretching over his features is hard to miss. He knows exactly what he is doing.

just as the day is about to end, he walks behind you squeezing your bare ass from under your skirt managing a surprised shriek from you when you feel his warm palms caress your ass pervertedly, “cute.” he whispers in your ear before turning you around and pinning you the wall. his fingers slide up your thighs moving closer to your cunt. warm digits graze over your slit earning a gasp from you, “come over, I will tutor you on the subjects you missed.” he kisses your neck, “come just like this.” he spanks your ass lightly before he leaves you be. his words are absolute and you know better than to disobey him, all of this was happening because you disobeyed him. you gather your things and walk up to his dorm room dressed just as you were before: in your school shirt, blazer, skirt, and no panties just as he wants it. when you arrive in his room you are met with his entire friend group sitting there with their books and pencils out. kaminari, kirishima and sero are not as surprised to see you as you are to see them. they greet you with happy faces which you return with a light smile.

“hey,” bakugo says with a smirk, guiding you to sit between sero and kirishima. between them the two humongous men, you feel like a child. with kirishima being tall and muscular and Sero being tall, lean and surprisingly packing a few too, makes you feel like a dwarf. you feel small and tiny in their presence and they very much notice it, sending knowing looks to one another while bakugo tries to tutor you. you know something’s up.

not a lot of studying takes place as kirishima grows impatient and slides his hand under your skirt and settles it over your cunt, rubbing his fingers on your pussy lips, occasionally pressing them on your clit. sero flips your skirt displaying your naked cunt to peering eyes. kaminari whistles, “wow, she really wasn’t wearing anything the entire day,” he comments. with one hand, Kirishima captures your wrists behind your back and pushes you on his lap. sero holds your legs to prevent you from squirming around like a dead fish, trying to break free. “so who goes first?” kaminari asks, walking over to you and crouching at your level. kirishima holds tightly with him seated on bakugo’s bed, kaminari flashes you a charming smile before his fingers run to unbutton your t-shirt, pulling your tits out of your bra. he tugs on one of your nipples while kishima’s large digits tugs on another.

“obviously me, dumbass.” bakugo barks coming closer to you. tears prick at your eyes as you beg him to stop, you tell him you’re sorry and that you will never disobey him ever again but he’s too far gone. the other men in the room might feel a little shitty about what they were going to do but there is no remorse in bakugo’s eyes. he looks at you like a predator looks at his prey, stalking about to pounce at any given second, “shut up, whore. you asked for this.” tears break loose as kirishima starts spreading your legs on command. wandering fingers rubbing at your pussy, trying to get you ready are forced to stop as bakugo declares that it must hurt for you. he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“you know you should have never said no to me right? be grateful for what’s being given to you, you’re our little plaything. a cute, little slut. you don’t get to say no,” his rough fingers grab at your jaw, prying it open as he spits in your mouth. “now just shut up and take our cocks, okay?” you cry out yes but he’s not satisfied. His hand strikes against your face, your cheek stings with burning hot pain as more tears leak out of your eyes. grabbing your face harshly, he lifts it up so you’re facing him, “okay?” he repeats. you calm your breath before answering him, fear and anxiety fucking you up in dread for what’s to come.

“yes, master,” you say in the most submissive voice you make out.

#tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #bakugou.🧡 #bakugou thirst.💥 #bakugou x reader #yandere bakugou #yandere bakugou smut #bakugou katsuki #yandere!bakugou #bakugou x you #bakugou x fem!reader #bakugo imagine #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x reader smut #bnha #bnha fanfiction #bnha smut #bnha x reader #bnha yandere #bnha manga #my hero academia #yandere #yandere smut #yandere writing #yandere fics #yandere x reader #kirishima x reader #yandere kirishima #yandere kaminari #kaminari x reader

[kiki-shortsnout]

For intimacy prompts: #36 being pushed against a wall for Frostironstrange! 💚❤️💙

I might have cheated a little and made it a door....

***

Jealousy wasn’t an emotion Stephen had much experience with. He’d been top of his field when he’d been a doctor, a pioneer, a trailblazer, he was the one people regarded with envy. Even in his romantic life, jealousy wasn’t an emotion he’d fallen victim to, never having formed a lasting attachment to another person.

He knew the root of the emotion stemmed from a feeling of insecurity, that the best thing he could do was turn his gaze inward and think about his own personal growth, to address his feelings of low self-esteem.

This…didn’t feel like feelings of low self-esteem. It felt like a coiled ball of barbed wire and razor blades sitting in his stomach, strangling the life out of him every time he saw them together.

The words on the page wavered as his eyes went unfocused, his ears straining to hear sounds of them whispering, torturing himself further by hearing fragments of their conversation, his mind filling in the blanks.

Why couldn’t it have been me?

Stephen had fallen in love with Tony first. He’d agonized over that, spent countless nights thinking about the reason why, if the rationale behind his jealousy was born from some adolescent feeling such as, I saw him first so therefore he’s mine, but that wasn’t it.

A bond had formed between them when fighting Thanos, a trust that Stephen seldom found in others. He knew Tony, probably better than anyone else in the world after his little exploration of millions of possible outcomes, but that wasn’t what made him fall in love.

It was the man’s determination, his courage, his sarcasm, all wrapped up in an appealing aesthetic package that was Tony Stark. He had been willing to sacrifice himself for the world, just as Stephen had sacrificed countless lives in the Dark Dimension, and at that moment against Thanos, Stephen knew he’d found someone in this huge, boundless universe who could understand him.

He looked up at that moment, staring at Tony across the gloomy Sanctum library. His legs were folded beneath him on the armchair, his elbow on the desk as he rested his head on it, idly swiping through his Starkpad as he worked.

Stephen hadn’t been able to let him die, had used every possible resource he possessed and those around him to save his life. He hadn’t even known Tony that long, but he had still sobbed alongside Rhodey and Pepper as Tony finally inhaled a lungful of battle charred air after excruciating seconds of being dead.

Sensing Stephen’s stare, Tony glanced up, giving him a gorgeous smile, the type that sent euphoric sensations squirming through his stomach. Ignoring Tony’s mouthed question asking him if he was okay, Stephen turned back to his book.

He’d never understood what it meant to love someone until the moment he’d lost Tony. Despite already witnessing millions of potential lifetimes, ignoring millions more, Stephen still wanted to remain by Tony’s side, as a friend, a lover, whatever capacity he was allowed as long as he could be part of the man’s life.

‘What’s got your attention, Anthony? I’m over here.’

Then Loki had happened.

The trickster had faked his death at Thanos’s hand. Not for his own personal gain this time, it was the only way he could save Thor and Bruce, ensure that Thanos would leave whatever Asgardians he hadn’t slaughtered alone. Stephen had doubted Loki’s intentions were as honorable as that, believe a large part of his actions were to save his own hide, but he wasn’t made of stone, despite how he was perceived, and Thor begging him to help find his brother hadn’t fallen on deaf ears.

It was Tony asking him to help bring Loki home, to give him the second chance they’d all had at some point in their lives, that swayed Stephen into action. The man didn’t even know about his repressed feelings, and even then, he was powerless to Tony’s wishes.

‘Lokes, I can barely concentrate as it is when you’re near me,’ Tony flirted.

He ripped the corner of the page from the tightness of his grip.

Stephen couldn’t actually put a finger on the exact moment where his feelings for the God of Mischief had changed from irritation to begrudging respect.

And then into complex complicated feelings of their own.

But he’d known when Loki’s and Tony’s relationship had changed, had seen the way both of them looked at the other, the swollen lips after they returned from meetings.

‘Stephen? Everything alright?’ Tony asked, destroying the painful recollections, making him look up at them both. They were trying to hide their relationship from him, and he wasn’t sure why.

I’m not important enough to know.

‘Yup,’ Stephen snapped, slamming his book shut and throwing it onto the desk between them.

‘Usually, you only look like that after I have spoken to you,’ Loki teased, placing both hands flat on the desk and leaning forward, goading him. That was their relationship, provoking each other, encouraging character growth through spite and teasing.

Today it felt like salt was scouring the wounds on Stephen’s soul.

He needed to control these feelings, these emotions. He’d already convinced himself that he was content with being Tony’s friend, that whatever stirrings of interest he had towards Loki had to be his libido talking. Tony Stark deserved whatever happiness he could find, and Stephen was the biggest advocate for it.

‘No, you’re not, honey.’

Stephen flinched in his chair as he looked up, Tony directly in front of him, his hand reaching out. The way his eyes had become soft and tender with worry for him made Stephen want to weep, to launch himself forward into his arms and speak his deepest desires.

They already have each other. There isn’t room for you.

He batted Tony’s hand away, ignoring the way the man flinched even as a wash of shamed nausea crept over him.

What are you expecting, Strange? That they’ll include you? That Tony will leave Loki for you? Normal people don’t have two partners.

‘Hey, it’s okay…I didn’t mean to scare you, we can leave if you’ve got things on your mind,’ Tony reassured, taking a step back.

‘Nothing’s on my mind,’ Stephen answered straight away, his voice coming out too loud and panicked. He saw Loki’s eyebrow raise in question, the Asgardian looking between them both, analyzing.

Shit.

‘Stephen, something’s obviously wrong, and I don’t think it’s because you don’t understand…’ Tony paused, tilting his head so he could try and read the title of Stephen’s book. ‘Yeah…I don’t know what you’re reading. Look, if it’s something I did don’t be shy,’ Tony told him with a playful grin, but Stephen knew what was behind it, the insecurity he hid behind those smiles.

‘No! It’s nothing you’ve done,’ Stephen lurched forward to grasp Tony’s elbows before remembering who else was with them. Immediately he let go, shoving his chair back with the force he used to escape. Cursing his treacherous body, his gaze went to Loki who was watching the whole thing unfold with shrewd eyes.

‘Come on, asshole, what is it? I’m not a mind reader you know.’

‘No, but I am. I have a glorious feeling this is going to be fascinating,’ Loki’s silky voice wrapped around them both, his fingers lit up with his magic.

He can’t find out.

‘Leave me alone…’ he spat, his hands readying themselves to create a portal as he leapt to his feet. ‘You can’t be serious?’

‘Deadly,’ Loki growled, extending his fingers with a snap, his emerald magic twisting forward and nullifying the portal Stephen had been trying to create.

I need to get out of here.

‘What? What’s going on? Loki, stop it don’t-’ Tony yelped as Stephen launched himself into a run, barreling him over in his haste to escape. Loki gave chase, both of them scrabbling against the wooden floor as they sprinted to the door.

Tony can’t know. Neither of them can know.

Stephen ignored Tony’s frantic shouts for them to stop, the burn in his lungs as he ran, the pain in his shoulders as he collided with the bookcases. Books rained down on him, the library around him fading to one, singular point.

Get to the door!

He could hear Loki hot on his heels, felt the tendrils of his magic trying to ensnare him, his snarls of frustration as Stephen ducked and weaved around the bookcases, no finesse to his movements, just a dogged determination to escape the situation.

Crying out in relief when he made it to the door first, he skidded to a halt when the Cloak billowed up, blocking the way, trapping Stephen inside.

‘They can’t find out! Move!’ Stephen hissed at the Cloak.

The Cloak shook its collar, spreading itself out so it appeared huge.

‘Please!’ Stephen pleaded, his voice cracking. ‘I’ll lose them both otherwise!’

‘What the hell is going on? Are we under attack?’ Feet pounded on the floor behind him, the sounds of his suit forming was audible even over Stephen’s pounding heart.

Think. Think!

Reaching forward to rip aside the Cloak, Stephen found himself slammed against the back of the door, a lithe muscled body pressed against him, and a hot mouth sealed over his. Despite wanting to moan into it, the electric current of unbridled lust surging inside of him, he didn’t stop fighting to escape.

He didn’t want to hurt Tony with his lustful feelings and burgeoning affection for his lover, didn’t want to damage their friendship. Then there was Loki, whose tales of cruelty had reached them all. Who knew what he would do to Stephen for coveting his lover? He would desecrate the feelings he held dear, spinning this into a story that they shared with other while in bed, their mocking laughter surrounding them.

‘Desist your struggles, Strange,’ Loki whispered when he stopped, leaving another scorching kiss on his lips as he held him still. ‘Your feelings are making you foolish. You know I cannot read minds, yet you crumbled under your fear and left your true self bare.’

Stephen strained against the hold, his head banging back against the heavy door, nails gripping the wood. Loki didn’t budge, his strength far exceeding Stephen’s, but he moved his hands to his forearms, allowing the blood to flow back into his damaged hands with a pained hiss.

‘Sorry,’ Loki murmured. ‘It is not my intent to-’

‘You already knew I had feelings for him,’ Stephen hissed, looking over Loki’s shoulder, trying to understand what the expression on Tony’s face was, memorizing the detail of him before he’d be no longer allowed to look.

I never wanted this to happen.

‘Yes, but I did not know of your attraction to me. Which makes this conversation so much simpler,’ Loki answered.

‘What conversation?’

‘You are not alone in your feelings, darling,’ Loki called over his shoulder, his sharp green gaze never leaving Stephen’s.

He slumped in Loki’s hold, hanging his head as shame burned his cheeks.

‘You’re not listening to my words, Stephen.’ Loki brought his head down to whisper in his ear, adjusting his grip so Stephen could rest against him, holding him instead of restraining him. Even with all of the panic making him light-headed, his chest flayed open for all to see, Stephen still took the time to breathe in Loki’s scent, the unique alienness of it.

‘Stephen? Is Loki right? Do you…have feelings for me?’ Tony asked, his voice wavering in bewilderment.

Rubbing his head against Loki’s shoulder for a moment, Stephen took a huge, quivering breath before he drew back, trying to find his courage.

‘No, Loki’s voice rumbled through his chest, oscillating through to Stephen’s skin. ‘It isn’t just lust you have for me. You hold feelings for us both.’

‘Stephen?’

‘Yes. God, I’m sorry, I fell for you, months ago, Tony,’ Stephen sighed, not looking at him, staring at the glossy black hair brushing against Loki’s collarbone. ‘I knew you were together, thought I could be happy…No, I wanted to be happy for you-’

Stephen stumbled as Loki vanished from before him, flailing until he was caught by Tony’s smaller frame. He only had a second to figure out what had happened before he was being kissed again, a sharp whipcrack of shock drowning out any thoughts.

He retained enough sense to break apart, his gaze seeking out Loki, fearful of retribution. Loki’s façade cracked at his stare, relaxing into an expression he’d often seen him look at Tony with.

‘You were blinded by what you did not have, saw only what you wanted to see. You never realized that Anthony was watching you too, snatching gazes of you when you were preoccupied with your melancholy.’

Stephen looked down at Tony in his arms, his brown eyes blazing in that look of determination he’d fallen for.

‘Stephen, I…you too? I never thought…you never gave any indication of-’

Stephen silenced the words with a kiss, reaching up to cup Tony’s face with his hand, expressing everything he could through his actions, his longing, his repressed desire, his love. Their tears mingled together, seeping down to their lips, binding their kiss with suffering sweetness.

‘Idiots, the both of you,’ Loki said, wrapping his arms around them. ‘I know this type of relationship might not be considered… acceptable on Midgard, but I believe now that I know of your feelings, it would be wise to explore the possibilities.’

‘This, this isn’t normal though,’ Stephen mumbled against Tony’s lips, lifting his free hand so he could grip hold of Loki.

‘Who cares about normal? I’m Tony Stark, I do what I want,’ Tony asserted, kissing him soundly on the lips, before turning and kissing Loki’s jaw.

‘Ineloquent as always, but I believe this time the sentiment comes across nicely,’ Loki said, eyes closing as he accepted Tony’s bestowed kiss.

‘You both? How long?’

‘Since Thanos-’

‘Since you found me-’

They answered together. It was Loki who blushed though, uncertain how his own declaration would be taken.

‘I’ve known Tony longer, understood and accepted my feelings for him before I found you, but that doesn’t mean what I’m feeling towards you isn’t real, Loki,’ Stephen assured, his confidence growing, the earlier panic and fear dispelled by their touch.

Loki swallowed and nodded once, his grip tightening before he took a step back, gesturing at the Cloak to move aside.

‘I realize we’ve forced this confession from you, and if you would rather take some time to-’

‘Do you want to go on a date?’ Tony interrupted.

‘A date?’ Loki deadpanned.

‘A date? Like drinks? Food? Music? Somewhere we can get to…well not know each other better, but talk. About what this means for us?’ Tony encouraged, his gaze darting between them both.

‘Anthony. I do not think-’

‘A date sounds great,’ Stephen interrupted him this time, pressing his lips together to hide his amusement at Loki’s confusion, reaching down to take both their hands in his.

#frostironstrange #fanfic prompt #ask answered #thank you so much #thanks for this! #stephen strange #tony stark #Loki #Yet more Kiki prompts!

[benevolentbirdgal]

“Thirteen” Tips on Writing Jewish Characters / Some  Jewish Identity Stuff Explained

So you want to write a Jewish character, but don’t want to write a caricature? Or are worried they won’t register as Jewish to readers, or something will be off or wrong? Well I, friendly (virtual) neighborhood Jewish professional, am here to help! 

Note: The Jewish community is made up of roughly 14 million people worldwide with all sorts of backgrounds, practices, life circumstances, and beliefs. I’m just one American Jew, but I’ve had exposure to Jewishness in many forms after living in 3.5 states (at several different population densities/layouts), attending Jewish day school and youth groups, doing Jewish college stuff, and landing a job at a Jewish non-profit. I’m speaking specifically in an American or Americanish context, though some of this will apply elsewhere as well. 

Let’s start with the word “Jew.” It’s not inherently a slur, but can absolutely be used as one. I am a Jew. You can call me a Jew, just not a Jew. Like most minority groups, there are slurs against us, but Jew is the proper demonym. It can be used disrespectfully as a noun, but isn’t inherently disrespectful. Think “Chava is a Jew” versus “You’re being such a Jew.” 1a. Any use of Jew as a verb by gentiles (non-Jews) is not okay. Your Jewish characters should be horrified by someone telling them they “Jewed down the price.” 1b. Any use of Jewess by gentiles is not okay and your Jewish character should not be cool with it.  1c. Many Jews would actively prefer to be called such because that’s what we are and “Jewish person” is stepping away from our Jewishness. But I get that not everybody is going to be comfortable calling us Jews. That’s okay, and “Jewish person/people” or “X is Jewish” is TOTALLY ACCEPTABLE.  1d. With that said, Jewish people refers to ourselves as Jews. If Sarah is Jewish but is squicked about referring to herself as a Jew, your Jewish readers will immediately know she’s written by a gentile.  1e. Actual slurs against Jews is a post for another time (did you know K*ke literally means circle?). 

Your Jewish-American character likely does not speak Hebrew, Yiddish, Ladino, or any other Judeo-Language (languages that are a mix of Hebrew and at least one other language, typically written in the Hebrew abjad). Three notes on this, however: 2a. If your character is an immigrant or the child of an immigrant, they might speak the Judeo-language of the old country. The most common will be Israeli-Americans speaking Hebrew, but families still speaking Yiddish, Ladino, Judeo-Arabic, and other families do still exist. The children of Jewish immigrants might also speak another language that isn’t a Jewish one, like Russian or Spanish.  2b. If they are in a VERY religious Ashkenazi community, they might speak Yiddish at home and in the community.  2c. Odds are decent, however, that your American Jew can read but not understand Hebrew. If your character went to Jewish Day School or Yeshiva, they definitely read Hebrew, and will have some understanding of it (but likely not fluency). 

Despite what I just said above, your Jewish-American character likely drops a lot of Yiddish words and phrases into their day-to-day speech. Which words/phrases in probably a list for another time, but the most common will be foods, family names (i.e. “Zayde” instead of Grandpa), and sassy expressions. They may incorporate some Hebrew to a lesser extent. 

There’s not just one version of kosher. There’s kosher, kosher-style, Halav Yisrael, glatt kosher, etc. Depending on your character’s level of kosher, they’ve need a hecksher (kosher mark) on any given item or only eat at kosher restaurants, although not all Jews keep kosher and many keep “kosher-style” (i.e. only eat theoretically kosher things).

Your Jewish character should be a whole character, both in general and in relation to their Jewishness. This means, among other things, that they aren’t obsessed with Israel and I/P discourse one way or the other and that while writing you remember that not all Israelis are Jews and not all Jews are Israelis. Your Jewish character is not constantly agonizing over the I/P situation, has a life outside of their Jewishness, and shouldn’t be a cardboard stand-in for your desire to discuss the middle east. 

The Jewish experience varies dramatically with geography. Jews living in Omaha, Richmond, Philly, Kansas City, Boca Raton, and New York City are all American Jews. They will have drastically different Jewish experiences. I strongly recommend doing research on the Jews in the specific place your story takes places, but generally:  6a. The closer you are to the northeast coast and NYC (except south Florida) the better and more varied your Jewish resources.  6b. NYC has the highest Jewish population of any city on the planet. Big cities like Boston, Chicago, and L.A., as well as just outside of NYC in NJ and NYS, and suburban/exburb south Florida will have lots of Jewish resources: day schools (Jewish + secular education mix), maybe Yeshivas (Jewish focus), multiple synagogues, a Jewish Community Center, Jewish dating services, social stuff, Jewish charities, and youth activities. Your character will have other Jewish friends and their gentile friends will likely know other Jews. Antisemitism is still a problem and usually takes the form of excluding Jews from activism, thinly-veiled stereotyping or excusing antisemitism from people from other oppressed groups, but it’s usually not as overt as elsewhere. Almost always safe to disclose Jewishness.  6c. Small and mid-size cities Denver, Virginia Beach, Charleston, and Harrisburg will have a JCC or Jewish federation, multiple synagogues, and maybe a Jewish day school. Your character is not the only Jew their gentile peers have met, but the bagels are meh. They will have other Jews to bond and commiserate with. Antisemitism here is mostly like that in big cities with occasional burst of overt incidents and attacks. It is generally physically safe for them to disclose Jewishness.  6d. Big towns and small cities in the south or mid-west will have maybe one synagogue - probably reform or Chabad. Your character will have to seek out Jewish spaces, but they will be easy to find. They will not be everybody’s First Jew, but it will be unusual. Antisemitism here is mostly overt - most of the antisemites your character deals with will be very obvious and many will be violent. Jews in such situations will not hide their Jewishness per se, but will be more selective in choosing to disclose it.  6e. Rural areas and small-small towns will not have a synagogue. Your character and their family may be the only Jews or there might be a small group that meets on occasion or carpools to the nearest synagogue. They will have to actively seek out the others Jews and they will be difficult to find. Disclosing their Jewishness is a serious consideration and not always safe. Odds are they are many people’s First Jew, which gets really weird real fast. Beyond the harmless ignorant-but-trying-to-learn-from-their-first-Jew types your character will interact with, there’s also violent and overt antisemitism here.  6f. If your character is in college, they will likely have a Chabad and/or a Hillel on campus if they are at a large school or a school with a significant Jewish population. 

Related: when Jews meet each other for the first time, a game of “Jewish geography” ensues as they try and trace people they know in the other person’s state/city/community. 

Jews come in all shapes, colors, sizes, genders, sexualities, politics, and religious beliefs. There are all sorts of Jewish people with tons of different intersecting identities. Don’t box yourself in to writing one kind of Jew. Just research a ton on the particular subsection of the Jewish community your character is a part of - a Mizrachi-Jewish Persian-American bisexual woman is going to have a different experience than a straight Ethiopian-American Jewish man who is going to have different experience from a queer Ashkenazi-Jewish-American girl with non-Jewish family.  8a. Jews with Ashkenazi (eastern/northern European) ancestry and customs are the biggest group in the U.S., but by no means the only group or representative of every Jew. Sephardi (Spanish/southern European/north Africa), and Mizrachi (north Africa and the middle east) are the next biggest groups. It would not be unusual for your character to have Polish-Jewish, Iraqi-Jewish, Moroccan-Jewish, or Russian Jewish ancestry or a mix.  8b. Each of these groups have their own customs, Judeo-languages, local holidays, and local historic tragedies. Generally, historic Sephardi communities were linked between themselves, historic Ashkenazi communities were linked between themselves, and historic Mizarchi communities were linked between themselves. The three had some, but limited contact. Additionally, all three major groups have subdivisions within them.  8c. There are also smaller groups that don’t fall within the three traditional categories, like the Ethiopian Jews, the Cochin Jews (India), Chinese Jews, Gruzim (Georgian), and more. Most of these smaller groups were not in contact with the wider Jewish world.  8d. All Jewish groups start from the same base texts (the written Torah), and the majority include the oral Torah as well. Local interpretations and traditions develop, these are referred to as minhag(im) (customs). For example, the biblical commandment is to not boil a baby goat in its mother’s milk. Some communities extend this to mean no chicken and milk, others reason that chickens don’t produce milk so the mixture is acceptable. Both are equally valid interpretations rooted in tradition, but they are different.  8e. Marrying between Jewish subgroups in the U.S. is super common and outside of extreme or really intense groups is not frowned upon. Traditionally, the father’s minhagim are followed, i.e. a Syrian-Jewish father and a Spanish-Jewish mother would follow the Syrian-Jewish minhagim with their children. Many modern couples choose the mother’s traditions or mix them up, but that’s the traditional route. 

Unless they are VERY religious, your character’s family is unlikely to be particularly wound up about them being LGBTQ the way a comparably Christian family might, at least not because they’re Jewish. Samuel’s Jewish mother is likely unconcerned he likes boys and is much more empathetic than he must marry a Jewish boy and raise any kids Jewish. 

There are so many Jewish holidays, and they are not all celebrated the same or with the same intensity. Probably enough material for its own post, but the ones most likely celebrated by your character: 10a. Shabbat and/or Havdalah. Shabbat starts Friday nights with candles, wine/grape juice and challah bread, Havdalah ends Shabbat with a braided candle, wine, and aromatic spices. Shabbat dinner is usually a meat meal and it is common to invite guests or eat with friends and family (in normal times).  10b. The “High Holidays” - Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur. Jewish students often skip school for these. Yom Kippur is a 25 hour fast with services all day, Rosh HaShanah has services in the evening and morning.  10c. Passover - arguably the most important holiday. Celebrated with two sometimes agonizingly long Seders (ritual meals), family gatherings, and abstaining from leavened bread for 7/8 days.  10d. Hanukkah - Not actually that spiritually important, but culturally important for American Jews. Typically celebrated with candle lighting, presents, visits to family members, and greasy food. 

There’s a lot of wine involved in Jewish ritual, so it’s unlikely your character’s Jewish family are teetotalers. 

Jewish families tend to be very intense, loud, opinioned, caring, and involved, compared to many other assimilated American families. Shabbat dinner is not quiet. Dissent is a Jewish value - differing opinions are allowed (and expected in many circles), as is the ability to argue/defend competently. 

Jewishness can mean ethnic identity, cultural identity, and/or religion. There are several major denominations religiously, although that needs to be its own post in detail. The noteworthy movements at this point are Orthodox (further subdivided into Ultraorthodox and Modern Orthodox), Conservative (middle of the road, no relation to conservative politics), Reform, and Reconstructionist (both very “choose your own/your community’s adventure).

Probably will write more parts in the future, but this is heinously long already! Hope this is helpful!

#jewish #jewish writing #jewishwriting #jewblr #writeblr #writing advice #jewish identity #jews #jewishidentity #super long post sorry not sorry #writing jewish characters #writing jews #jewish writing help #jumblr

[nutty1005]

“A Dream Like A Dream” Fan Review Report by 十月息

Original Article: https://weibo.com/6574125081/KcrfzBjYL?type=comment#_rnd1619312989712 Original Author: 十月息

(TN: This is the translation of the famous 10,000 character repo on Weibo, so be warned that this is very long article. Permission to translate granted by OP.)

Part 1 – Review of Xiao Zhan’s Acting According to the Script

Finding Patient No. 5 B

At the start of the play, there were many people surrounding the stage, I was very frantically searching for Xiao Zhan. One of the ladies besides me patted me and said, that one with the messenger bag! After that I immediately found him. His legs were really long! So, at the start of the play, watch out for the messenger bag! (That was the look in the waiting photo.) After this, I was following him around using my binoculars, hahaha.

Patient No. 5 and His Wife’s Initial Encounter

This part was very interesting. No. 5 was queuing behind his wife, then still a stranger, and buying movie tickets, and his wife had an argument with her then lover on the phone, and rashly stuffed her other movie ticket and grilled corn cob into No. 5’s hands. When handed the movie ticket, No. 5 was still able to comprehend, but after he was given the corn cob, he was starting to get confused — Xiao Zhan’s No. 5 widened his eyes, stared at the corn cob in his hand, and then turned around and looked around, looked at the people queuing behind him. In the next second, the 7 or 8 people behind him magically took out their own corn cob, as though getting a corn cob at the movies was a perfectly normal thing to do, and if No. 5 did not have one he would be out of place. There was full comedic effect, the whole theater laughed, No. 5 was embarrassed as he turned around and entered the cinema holding the corn cob. Starting from here, we could see that No. 5’s body language had completely corresponded with that of a comedic trope, it was relaxed and lively, and even when he met with unexpected situations, it was clumsily adorable.

Patient No. 5 Eating Sushi with His Wife

This segment was at the stage left, which also happened to be my visual blind spot, so I could only see the projection from the big screen, which was very regrettable. His wife said the the person she just argued with on the phone was a pig, and she did not want to talk about it, so when No. 5 mentioned that person, he used snorting to represent him, “…. that *snort snort*…”, that snorting was in imitation of a pig, it was really too cute! Xiao Zhan had also snorted in “Our Song”, here, No. 5’s snorting was even more lively, to the point that I was stunned, took 2 seconds to react in my brain that, oh my goodness that was actually Xiao Zhan snorting! It was simply too cute!!

His wife had squeezed a large amount of wasabi on the sushi, No. 5 said “no one puts so much wasabi”, (TN: Chinese had their own term for wasabi, jiemo, but Xiao Zhan used the Japanese term instead), I really loved it when he used languages other than Chinese, I just felt that it encompassed so much cuteness, moreover it was with the Taiwanese accent that belonged to No. 5, it was even more adorable. Both of them ate that wasabi laced sushi, and coughed wildly due to the irritation, Xiao Zhan was coughing so vigorously, by the sound of it I thought he was going to cough out his lungs, just exactly as though he really ate a huge amount of wasabi. But amazingly, his voice was exceptionally clear while coughing, perhaps because his voice for lines had became deeper more robust, in comparison, he did not deliberately deepen his voice while coughing, so he sounded literally like a young man.

No. 5 continued to chat with his wife, in this conversation, No. 5’s Taiwanese accent was even more obvious, which once again became part of my adorable collection of “Xiao Zhan’s various accents”, I was quietly punching the air in my mind!

His wife told him that she had never seen her father before, and she was unable to face him, No. 5 then told his wife to close her eyes and give it a try, she was initially unwilling, No. 5 coaxed her gently, and then she closed her eyes. Thereafter, No. 5 started talking in a old man’s voice deliberately, “My girl! Turn around and look at Papa! Papa owed you too much, forgive Papa, I’ve also missed you terribly! My good child! Papa bought a very beautiful doll to meet you!” Everyone could attempt to see how you would sound like when you talk in an older voice deliberately, it would definitely be quite funny, when Xiao Zhan acted it live, it was even more funny, the audiences laughed heartily. What made me even more excited was that this was the only the beginning of No. 5’s story, but I had already heard Xiao Zhan snorting like a pig, Xiao Zhan speaking Japanese, Xiao Zhan coaxing people, Xiao Zhan talking like an old man, I felt as though I was exploring all the different voices of Xiao Zhan! When Xiao Zhan spoke like an old man, it was also very cute!

Almost forgot a very important point, that is from this old man act and the snorting previously, we could actually see that No. 5 was very good at flirting, and it was the sort that was very natural and well practiced! In the instant as he acted as an old man, besides laughing with the audiences, I also thought in envy, good job young man, you are flirting again and again! I just had to say this, Xiao Zhan’s No. 5 was really very charming in and out.

Patient No. 5 Begging The Doctor to Save His Child

This part seemed ordinary based on the script, but you would only feel the amazement when watching it live! When looking at the script, it seemed like only the wife was begging the doctor, but in fact I remembered that it was his wife who stood further away from the doctor as she carried the child, No. 5 was beside the doctor, just like the stage photo shared by XZ Studio. His wife was more emotional from start till end, No. 5 was initially more calm, and even looked back to signal his wife to calm down. But later on as the doctor kept rejecting him, No. 5 started to lose the controlled calmness on the surface: he turned around and kneeled before the doctor, begging pitifully, his voice full of hurt and pain, with an agonizing crying tone. In here, his emotional progression to explosive was not that long, but it was very excellent, that moment he was just a father of a child, with an unbearable pain of loss on his shoulders. The doctor continued to refuse, No. 5 said no more, and the whole theater went silent.

Patient No. 5 Getting His Wife to Pick Up the Phone

After the child passed away, the relationship between No. 5 and his wife drifted apart, and No. 5 contacted that strange disease. At the same time, he started receiving calls in the middle of the night, but no one spoke after he picked up. There was one night, it was rare that No. 5 was at home with his wife, and he picked up that call again. No. 5 yelled into the receiver for a long time but yet no one replied, so he yelled at it, “I’m going to fight it out with you… after all, the telephone fee’s on you!” His tone was incensed, but yet the words he used were exceptionally funny, it was supposed to be a scary suspense story, but it wore the cape of a comedy.

The lines following that were similar. No. 5 finally yelled at the receiver, “Fine, I’m done playing with you today!” Till then it was still quite normal, but unexpectedly before he hung up he suddenly yelled another line: “Good! Night!” This type of contrast continued to add comedic colors to the play, because No. 5 was actually speaking harshly, but in the end he still politely said good night, but yet that good night was still harsh and irate. I believed that no matter how unclear the image of No. 5 was in the audiences’ hearts, in this moment they would definitely feel that No. 5 had a cuteness stemming from the contrast in his personality, he was interesting, cute and lively.

I feel that this was something that was hard to control in performance. On a whole, “A Dream Like A Dream” was a very serious and standard play, and would occasionally use comedic tropes to balance the heavy keynote. Hence when actors were performing, they had to say those random lines in a serious tone, and if done too lightly, the audiences would not feel that it was funny, but if done too heavily, it would destroy the pace of the story. Whereas Xiao Zhan’s performance was simply just right, it allowed audiences to easily understand the funny bits, but yet it did not breakaway from the general tone of the story. I remembered when we studied or appreciated ancient poems in high school, there was this term called “using lively music to contrast sorrow”, in fact “A Dream Like A Dream” was like this. The more amusing the funny parts were, after the audiences were done laughing and continued to immerse themselves in the story, the heavier they would feel.

Following this was the part, which Xiao Zhan angrily yelled at his wife to pick up the call, that many reports had mentioned. There was actually a progression, the script as below, the parts in parenthesis was how I remembered it was acted out:

No. 5: It's your turn to pick it up. (His tone was quite calm）

His Wife: What for do I pick it up? No. 5: It could be for you. (He was starting to raise his voice)

His Wife: How could that be?

No. 5: Secret lover! You should pick it up. (You could hear the anger)

His Wife: Why?

No. 5: Because it is yours. (His tone had already went from questioning to factual) Every time he calls, not long after, you would return, I think he hasn't finished talking to you. (This looked like narration, but in fact when Xiao Zhan said this he was speaking hastily, already at the brink of exploding, his voice was very loud, and was starting to ring in the audiences' ears. In reality when someone hears a tone like this, we would subconsciously avoid it, as we feel that this person would explode the very next second.) You pick it up. (I was starting to shake)

His Wife: For what? It's not mine. (I was starting to fear for his wife, I mean was this not adding oil to the fire? Please don't... I was praying this in my heart, because the very next moment, lightning was going to strike!)

No. 5: PICK IT UP! [TN: The word used was a single syllable, jie.]

Just that word, the tone was so harsh, I could say that I have never encountered this in my life; the sound was so loud, it almost deafened me, the word was echoing within the hall, and gave me a feeling that when Xiao Zhan yelled out this word, he was also resonating with it. My father’s temper was not that good, and he would yell at me when I was a child, his voice was loud enough, but I actually felt that it was not as loud as a third of Xiao Zhan’s. Not only the voice was loud, the tone was very fierce, so fierce that if he was your boss, you would have kneeled before him, if he was one of your peers, you would have felt weakness in my legs and could not even run away if you wanted to. At that time in the theater, I was truly frightened, I felt as though my heart had frozen in my chest, and then there were palpitations, I felt as though all the yelling I had received previously were not worth mentioning. The whole theater definitely had a fright, because after Xiao Zhan yelled it, the whole theater was silent, not just ordinary silence when watching a play, but even the sounds of breathing stopped, the air was scarily quiet.

Patient No. 5 Searching for His Wife among the Passersby

No. 5 and his wife went to watch another movie, just like how they first met. When queuing, his wife went out to pick up a call, and suddenly disappeared, No. 5 started searching for her everywhere. Over here as well, I did not feel that it was very emotional when reading the script, No. 5 was like going through the process of looking for his wife, but when I actually watched the performance, it was another of Xiao Zhan’s highlight.

No. 5 was holding onto the grilled corn cob, and grabbed hold of a passerby, asked, “Sorry, can I ask if you saw my wife?” but this passerby did not hear him. No. 5 continued to run forward, the other passersby were stoic and slow, No. 5 frantically walked through them and seemed especially out of place. He grabbed the next passerby, continued asking, “Excuse me, did you see my wife?” The passerby continued to ignore him. I don’t know how to explain this specifically, as these two lines were similar, but the emotions in No. 5 was obviously changing, the sense helplessness and breakdown that was transmitted through his tone and his body language completely grabbed the hearts of the audiences.

No. 5 continued to grab passersby, asked, “Sorry, did anyone see a lady holding two grilled corn cobs? Her hair is slightly yellow, she’s very pretty, her eyes are very big…” “Excuse me, did you see my wife? She’s of mixed race, she never saw her father, our child died, she’s very upset… I’m really not feeling well… did anyone see?” I believe that even if I did not describe Xiao Zhan’s tone, we could see from the lines that No. 5 had already went from precise questioning to emotional rambling, the lines contained family background information unrelated to the search. In the final questioning, he was already in crying tones.

After countless of his question left ignored, No. 5 finally despaired, he stopped in his tracks, broke down and shouted, “Did anyone see my wife?! She just bought two grilled corn cobs!!!” This howl completely used all his strength and was even hysterical, it was filled with helplessness, despair and utter collapse. This lines actually contained comedy, since who would have brought up grilled corn cob at this point in time? But No. 5 did, and this was similar to what I said previously about “using lively music to contrast sorrow”, the more ridiculous the trope was, the better the contrast could highlight the sorrow in the reality, and in reality most of the tragedies did not happen like a Shakespearean story, but accumulated from the smallest and most ridiculous things.

In comparison to the doctor scene, I felt that this No. 5 broke my heart even more… Because he asked different people again and again, but he was ignored and tossed aside, bit by bit, he despaired and broke down… He used all of his strength but he could not do anything, except cry and howl helplessly…

Patient No. 5 and Jiang Hong at the Laundromat

This was a completely propless performance, with the exception of a laundry basket, there was no props, so Xiao Zhan was performing with the air as he opened the washing machine, took his clothes, folded them and placed them in the laundry basket. But his movements were very natural and ordinary, it was not deliberate, you could understand what he was doing with a look, i.e. that sequence of actions I mentioned previously. The way he folded (air) clothes was very cute, and there was the part that he did not know how to use the washing machine, and was poking poking poking at the air, that was also super cute! Haha.

Patient No. 5 at Jiang Hong’s Apartment

After No. 5 caught his disease, his posture, etc, had started displaying the weakness of his illness, Xiao Zhan very accurately portrayed this point, no matter whether it was his walking speed or his hunched back, as well was occasional coughing and panting, constantly reminded audiences that No. 5 was a terminal patient with not many days left. However in comparison to these, what best displayed No. 5’s illness was when he went up the staircase to Jiang Hong’s apartment, Jiang Hong stayed on the 7th floor, every time No. 5 went upstairs it felt like an ordeal and a massive challenge, he kept holding onto the handrails (which of course did not exist, there were no staircases onstage, he was acting with air), he would rest every 2 steps, panting, and made us feel that No. 5’s health was rapidly leaving his body.

After this was basically the envy inciting scene of the whole play. Jiang Hong’s apartment was very small, No. 5 could only sit on her bed. So we slowly watched how No. 5 and Jiang Hong got closer and closer… Amitabha. I do not want to describe it in detail, ｡･ﾟﾟ･(>д<)･ﾟﾟ･｡. There was this part that was very cute, Jiang Hong said, “No other person ever lived in this space. When I first moved in there wasn’t even space to have a cat, but now there’s a man, when he lies down, he uses up the whole bed.” After the line ended, Xiao Zhan basically laid on the bed in a 大 shape, instantly occupying the whole bed, both of his legs even extended beyond the bed. The audiences laughed at that moment, and I also directly understood even more that Xiao Zhan is really tall! Big sized! Before that when Xiao Zhan curled on his side on the bed, he was still very big.

Patient No. 5 and Jiang Hong’s Couple Details

It was not that moment of intimacy that made me envious, but it was the continued subconscious intimacy that really made me envious. No. 5 and Jiang Hong became a couple, they were like they had been together for a very long time, the intimacy was natural and well practiced. When she and No. 5 walked together, he would hold her hands; when they stood side by side, he would hold her waist; when they spoke face to face he would look down at her, very focused on her eyes, as though only she existed in the world, and would also gently stroke the back of her head, or smooth her hair; sometimes No. 5 would even slightly adjust her collar… etc, every detail was exceptionally natural.

When No. 5 and Jiang Hong went to see a gypsy with spiritual powers, that person told No. 5 to look at the crystal ball like how he would look at his lover, No. 5 turned around, looked up and looked lovingly at Jiang Hong standing behind him, saying coquettishly, “Yup, looking at my lover,” just like a willful boy in his first relationship who is unable to leave his lover. In that moment I became extremely envious.

Patient No. 5 and Jiang Hong at Normandy

This section is completely No. 5’s highlight!

At the start in the town’s hotel, the Grandpa gave No. 5 a flower circlet, No. 5 took it and placed it on his head. This was just right on stage left, which was my blind spot, I could only see it from the blurry screen, I was so angry and regretful! I could only imagine Tang San wearing the flower circlet, when Xiao Zhan wore it live it would definitely look a lot better, I could not see that with my own eyes, that was the biggest regret of my life ｡･ﾟﾟ･(>д<)･ﾟﾟ･｡.

When entering the hotel, the receptionist said it was 1,550 Francs per night, Jiang Hong immediately felt that it was too expensive and tugged No. 5, but No. 5 was instead very relaxed and yet unyielding as he said, “It’s almost the same, it’s all this price! It’s reasonable!” “No matter, I want it, I’m paying.” And then he pulled Jiang Hong into the hotel. That time I could only think, good job dude, that was how an unreasonable boss trope should be like!

No. 5 and Jiang Hong went to have a meal in the hotel, but however the rule of the restaurant was formal wear, but both No. 5 and Jiang Hong were in casual wear, so the host gave No. 5 a tie, No. 5 was to wear the tie and take a seat. In the script, it was No. 5 who tied his own tie, but in Xiao Zhan’s version, he did not continue to tie it himself, instead he raised his chin and leaned his neck over, signaling Jiang Hong to tie for him. My goodness, this part was seriously too sweet, I started complaining in my heart at this dude ｡･ﾟﾟ･(>д<)･ﾟﾟ･｡… I am not sure if everyone watched a behind-the-scenes from “Superstar Academy”, where Xiao Zhan finished a drink (or tidbits, I cannot remember), and he just waved the cup in his hand, requesting the co-actress beside him to take it, and then the actress simply took it. His sort of natural ability to influence the opposite gender really makes me fall head over heels for him.

No. 5 and Jiang Hong were mistaken for Japanese, the two of them went back to their room and started conversing in synthetic Japanese, this was really No. 5 at the peak of his cuteness!!! No. 5 gave Jiang Hong a gentlemanly bow, and said “Hi!” in Japanese accent multiple times, the tone was both serious and flippant at the same time. No. 5 also said “Ah li ga duo” for arigatou. When No. 5 was describing guns to the French waitress, he use the onomatopoeia “Bang bang!”, with finger guns action, super cute. He also said “Duo La A Mong” for Doraemon, “Sa yo na la” for sayonara, and most select phrases mentioned in countless reports were “Ka wa yi” for kawaii and “Da me da me” for dame dame, these phrases did not exist in the script, they were basically his own creation. My description of that scene was basically like this:

When he said “Ka wa yi”, he placed his palms on his cheeks like a flower shape, and dragged the “yi” sound, the tone was slightly coquettish; when he said “Da me da me”, he swished his hands around (similar to a orchestra conductor), his tone was coquettish but also lilting.

After he said these two phrases, the audiences were no longer calm, many of them were sniffing in envy and these sounds filled the hall. I almost fainted at the spot, blanked out and stared at the ceiling, wondering how lucky I was to be able to hear Xiao Zhan said “Da me”, and in a coquettish manner, who was I where was I, I must had been dreaming.

No. 5 also told Jiang Hong “Ah yi xi tie lu”, which was “I love you” in Japanese. This phrase in Japanese is actually very formal, because in normal circumstances, the Japanese would use “suki” to confess their affection, which meant “I like you”, “I love you” was very rare. Then No. 5 placed his arms on Jiang Hong’s shoulders and hugged her, looked lovingly down at her eyes, his expression full of emotion and tease, and said every syllable with a pause “Ah, yi, xi, tie, lu”. That moment I hated myself, I wondered why I had to understand Japanese, why!

Following this is another highlight of No. 5, when he was mistaken as an artist he gave a speech in the restaurant, in the script, there was this big segment of lines, it was slightly different from what Xiao Zhan said in the play, but in general it was the same:

"From that day when a disease that I don't recognize found me, everything changed. I had no choice! Did I know this virus? Why did it come to me? I don't know. But it just came! Just like you said that until now there are still children in Cambodia with a missing limb due to mines! The war had already ended for 25 years! Who placed the mines? Did he know that child? Where did such great hatred came from, that you had to blow up someone you didn't know? How different am I from that child? He is just like you and I, that one day, standing under the sun, standing on the road, and suddenly, bang! It's over! The 'freedom' we yell about everyday is just bullshit! How could we have choices?!..."

I felt that I had to type out this section in full because I felt that Xiao Zhan’s live performance had to be appreciated with this section. Frankly speaking, when I first saw the original script, I felt that here, No. 5 was just someone who was very adaptable to the sudden situations, able to talk his way out, so I did not really look into the contents of this section. At that point in time, there were people who also posted this part online, but I felt that it was making a mountain out of a molehill when we place Xiao Zhan’s personal experiences along side it, No. 5 appeared to be making up a speech without much deeper meaning. When I saw Xiao Zhan himself performing this part, I realized that I was too flippant then: Xiao Zhan really had the ability to help his audience empathize, when he said this section, it felt as though every word struck my heart, as though there were other hidden meanings, especially when he said these two lines “Where did such great hatred came from, that you had to blow up someone you didn’t know?” and “The ‘freedom’ we yell about everyday is just bullshit!”, I really had instant flashbacks to the unpleasant memories of 2020… I always felt that hardship is just hardship, there is never a need for us to be thankful to it, but I had to admit, for Xiao Zhan to walk to this stage, he had went through the trials and tribulations of hardship.

Patient No. 5 and Gu Xianglan’s Kiss

In the script there were no kissing scenes between Young Patient No. 5 B and Young Gu Xianglan (by Xu Qing), i.e. the video clip that was posted by Yanghua Theatre on the 22nd. So that day, the last scene of the upper half, everyone exclaimed (of course, a big part of it was that no one guessed that there would be other kissing scenes besides that with Jiang Hong). In the video clip, No. 5 and Gu Xianglan walked slowed to each other, their shadows overlapped, their faces slowly overlapping into a kiss, it told a story, and that sense was even stronger when watched live. Just that the live performance did not have the later half of the clip, that is after they kissed they slowly separated, during live the two of them kissed using the trick of positioning and then the lights dimmed, and with that, the upper half ended.

No. 5 wore a leather jacket with jeans, Gu Xianglan wore cheongsam; No. 5 was from modern Taiwan, Gu Xianglan was from the 1930s Shanghai. So as they slowly moved towards each other face-to-face, there was really the sense that two eras were slowly merging and overlapping, the feeling was very wondrous, almost as though there was a time and space disorder, yet there was also a sense of revolving fate that merged the past and present, East and West, and created this love story that transcended space and time. I had to say that this additional scene was really fantastic, it had such a sense of story and of fate that it could match the scene of 2 different Gu Xianglans walking in the long corridor of illusion and shadow, which would really stir the audiences’ curiosity and wonder.

Hence, I surmised that the script for this tour had made some changes, No. 5 would likely be Baron’s reincarnation, confirmed when the dying Old Gu Xianglan laid on her bed, holding Xiao Zhan’s No. 5 B’s hands, and directly called him “Henry”.

Patient No. 5 on the Hospital Bed

Over here I really wanted to punch myself, I clearly read the script, but yet I forgot that in the second half, the person on the hospital bed would be No. 5 B! I entered the hall early, and I long saw the doctor at the hospital bed aiding the patient’s breathing, but I really did not pay much attention, I was so regretful!! After the show started, No. 5 started talking, the whole hall started to exclaim as they realized that oh dear, that was Xiao Zhan!

Wearing the patient gown, Xiao Zhan seemed even more ill, looked especially frail, weak, and immediately reminded me of Xianxian in the red undergown, I believe when I said this, everyone would have the image in their mind.

Patient No. 5 with the Dying Gu Xianglan

Old Gu Xianglan laid on the hospital bed, Xiao Zhan’s No. 5 sat by it, his left hand had always been on Gu Xianglan’s back, gently patting and soothing Gu Xianglan, never stopped, I had been staring for a long while. I kept feeling that this was especially “Xiao Zhan”, because Xiao Zhan himself is just that gentle and considerate.

Gu Xianglan narrated her story until she was short of breath and passed away, No. 5’s gaze had never left her, and he held her hand. No. 5 was like just like that, quietly watching Gu Xianglan until she passed away, he did not say anything, but his compassionate expression, slightly furrowed brows, exuded a strong sense of unspeakable sorrow gushing out from his body. As I wrote this part, my mind would sometimes flash back to the scene of No. 5 sitting by the bedside, and suddenly I would feel like weeping.

Patient No. 5 Reading a Letter at Jiang Hong’s Apartment

No. 5 returned to the apartment where he and Jiang Hong lived, and from under the floorboards he found a letter, he was simply kneeling as he read the letter, and kneeled for a very long time. “Hi, the person with the fever…” As he kneeled there, I could only see his back, and I just kept watching his back, listening to him read the first few lines of the letter and after which Jiang Hong continued, I felt that there was nothing else in my heart, I was very upset, but yet my tears were locked in my eyes. I stared at his pointed toes and the long, long legs in jeans, stared at the hands that were grasping the letter. Once again, No. 5 encountered another separation of a lifetime, and I knew that I was going to bid farewell to him as well.

Before the Passing of Patient No. 5

Here, No. 5 A laid on the bed talking, while Xiao Zhan’s No. 5 B stood around 1m away at the left side of the bed, looking at No. 5 A. Here is the most obvious display of compassion from No. 5, because he stood for a long time, so I kept staring at him — his gaze was gentle and sorrowful, looking at the other version of him lying on the bed almost reaching the end of his life, I wondered what he was thinking of? Xiao Zhan’s eyebrows were especially good looking, I kept thinking that if I studied him from a certain distance, the first thing I would see would be his eyebrows, and that was something I did not think would happen when I looked at him via a video on my mobile phone screen. His eyebrows were just too good at conveying emotion, if it was relaxed I would feel relaxed as well, when it frowned I would feel upset as well. No. 5 kept his brows furrowed, it was melancholy and sorrowful, he did not need to have tears in his eyes, he could convey emotions with his brows.

Finally, No. 5 A stopped breathing, and the light on No. 5 B dimmed, he was slowly consumed by darkness, in that instant I felt as though my heart had been drowned by sorrow, I kept on staring at Xiao Zhan, and unwittingly as I wrote to this point, tears started brimming in my eyes.

Patient No. 5’s A Cappella

The lyrics to the song was like this in the script:

Did anyone, see my face before? I think I remembered, I think I forgot, You used to wander in my dreams; I think I remembered, I think I forgot, I used to sing in your story; I think I remembered, I think I forgot.

At this point, all the actors will take out candles, Gu Xianglan A would ring a bell, all the actors will blow out their candles, and the play ends. I wrote on Weibo that this part wrote a cappella: Xiao Zhan sang it at the end, I was literally shaking. It was clearly a cappella, without any instrumental music or sound effects, but it was particularly ethereal and pleasant. It sounded like I went to a tall and quiet church, and listened to the choir’s singing. His voice came with its own bass. There was really this sense of sanctity, which made you feel as though any stray thoughts would be a blasphemy. I was clearly seated at an elevated location, but spiritually I felt that I was looking up at him. It was almost surreal, a dreamlike illusionary existence.

When I was seated in the hall, I was more excited, because I remembered that there was still the curtain call and gratitude ceremony. Now, reviewing this with the script, I am completely immersed in the sorrowful atmosphere of the script, and as I recall Xiao Zhan’s a cappella, I am now especially upset, and I miss him terribly.

Part 2 – Praising Xiao Zhan from All Different Angles

What Was Xiao Zhan’s Role (DUH)

At the start, No. 5 was an architect, a salary man, as he hurried on the streets, the sense of salary man was really obvious. After he met his wife, he started his flirtation mode, which was a humorous and interesting young man. After he had a child and as he carried that child, he was really like a father, I almost yelled “Daddy” in my heart! After that he fell sick, and no matter where and when, he was able to portray the sense of someone who had an illness.

Xiao Zhan’s Lines

Before the start of the show, Xiao Zhan broadcasted the important notice, his voice was like a newscaster, the XFXs around me could not believe it was him. In the hall, the voice was especially vigorous and magnetic, which was quite different from how he was like in previous interviews, overall it was especially pleasant, it felt like he changed his vocalization method, there was probably more technique into it.

Secondly, his pronunciation was very clear and professional, I could hear every word clearly, and when he was at stage left where I could not see him, I pretended I was listening to a radio show. No. 5 was from Taiwan, hence Xiao Zhan specially spoke with a Taiwanese accent, very natural and very cute. His emotions were very very on point! When he was coquettish his voice slightly lingered, when he yelled it was fierce, when he was sad it was sorrowful… When he was joking, it was as though every sound he made had a smile, when he was stern it was very shocking! “Ka wa yi” and “da me” were my top favorite!

Xiao Zhan’s Body and Face

Xiao Zhan’s No. 5, his back was hunched, he occasionally coughed, and we could see that his style of walking was different from Xiao Zhan’s: No. 5 was ill, he frequently had fevers, and he would tire when he went upstairs. From the play, we could say that we could not see the healthy and strong Xiao Zhan at all, we would only feel that he was No. 5 with a terminal illness, that was acting and character portrayal from in to out. But when he bowed with his back facing me, I still could clearly see the lines from his back muscles pushing against his shirt.

His legs were especially long, his proportions were really extreme, I always felt that humans could not grow like this, did he steal Jianguo’s leg length (No). His face was particularly small, especially when viewed from my distance, it was outstandingly exquisite, as though I could pinch it with just a hand. This hairstyle really showcased his ears, which were pointed, completely elf-like!

Besides his outstanding eyebrows, his nose was also super magnificent! Even if you looked at him from the front you would feel that he really looks very chiseled! Even more so from the side! A miracle of beauty!

From my location, I had a lot of chances to look at his 70% side view, as the light shone on that face, it was like a sculpture, I wondered what kind of divinity would be able to sculpt that: that nose line, that lip and that melancholy eyebrows…

Xiao Zhan’s Compassion

The tone that Xiao Zhan’s No. 5 as a whole gave me as a whole was melancholic, or I could say it was his compassion. Previously, I frequently saw that everyone said that Tang San had a sense of compassion, but I feel that the compassion in No. 5’s aura was superior to Tang San’s. Firstly, he himself had a terminal illness, and then he experienced so many changes, the departure of his family and loved ones. Secondly, the inner aura of No. 5 himself came with a bit of compassion.

I saw at the back row, at times when I used the binoculars, his facial features would be slightly blurry, of course most of the time it was clear, so I always first spot the most obvious, the tightly furrowed eyebrows.

Accompanying that frown would be his exquisite facial features, his eyes, especially the line of his nose, it seemed almost supernatural. Hence I would really relate it to the Greek sculptures, as in their expressions were also solemn, as though they were looking down upon the emotions and pain of the world. And they themselves were the representation of human beauty.

I always felt that the reason why Xiao Zhan’s good looks were well accepted by the masses was because his good looks was universally acceptable.

Of course, for Xiao Zhan’s No. 5 to be able to attain this level of compassion, it not only depended on his innate aura, but even more so, his own hard work, which caused his looks to be able to give off this kind of aura. For example, he became even more thin, such that his cheeks were more protruding, and there were possibly shadows on his cheeks, this would make you feel that, truly, his melancholy and compassion was clearly affecting his body.

His aura, his physical shape, was completely in service of the character.

Xiao Zhan’s Acting Skills

I posted on my Weibo that Xiao Zhan’s No. 5 was very compassionate, and then there were comments asking if it was because of his past experiences, such that he was able to portray this kind of compassion, actually it was not that I did not agree completely, but it was something that I did not even think of.

Why? Because when you watched Xiao Zhan’s dramas and movies, it was the same, when you watched his play life, his performance was even more so — just that he was not deliberately acting, you would feel that he did not use any life experience, or very obviously using his experiences to aid his portrayal in the drama. He was not like this, he would give you a very very natural sensation.

Xiao Zhan’s acting was like spring water, naturally flowing down from the cracks on the hill side, and not like cracking a water pipe, which would come gushing out suddenly, it was not like this. Even if it was an explosive scene, it would also smoothly flow downwards like a waterfall tumbling from the top of a cliff.

Although I say that Xiao Zhan’s acting was very, very natural, so much so that you could not see any trace of deliberation, but in fact this did not mean that this skill came inborn, on the contrary, this acting skill required doubly effort to attain.

My Trance

I don’t know how to explain my feeling: that is when watching the play I would sometimes feel hazy, like I would suddenly break away from the play, and then stare at Xiao Zhan, thinking — wow, this is a real Xiao Zhan, a lively Xiao Zhan, and he’s under the same roof as me in this very second, moving and talking…

And then I would go into that trance.

The Ocean of Flowers in the Courtyard

So romantic, star chasing is so romantic, loving Xiao Zhan is so romantic.

The night of Wuhan, I stayed in the midst of the crowds, outside of my windows were the streaking colors of everyday life.

My heart remained sweet, because I knew that in that very moment, I was sharing the same sky with the one I love.

And yet my heart was weak, as soon as I saw that endless brilliance of red, I would feel that my tears would well up.

Walking through the ocean of flowers, I saw countless adoration, gentleness, admiration, well wishes…

In that second, I was in Wuhan, and I had a romance with No. 5 at the ends of the world.

Appendix: 2013 Version of “A Dream Like A Dream” Behind-The-Scenes Documentary Review

(Written on 23 Mar 2021)

Upper Half

Firstly, the documentary emphasized on its star-studded cast on its very first Mainland China premiere in 2000. Besides the well-known famous actor, there was also a renowned female singer crossing domains, as well as some familiar, well-known actors, such as Tan Zhuo, Xu Qing. Xu Qing was going to continue her role as one of the Gu Xianglans in the upcoming 2021 version of “A Dream Like A Dream”. At the same time I also discovered that Shi Ke was in the 2013 version of “A Dream Like A Dream”, she was the lead actress for Xiao Zhan’s “Heroes in Harm’s Way – Blessed Community”.

In the documentary, besides bringing more attention to this play, the star-studded cast also brought another challenge, because the group’s actors had to spend more than a year to break into this 8 hour play (that time when “A Dream Like A Dream” first came into Mainland China, everything had to be started from scratch, there were a lot to adapt, hence the timeline would be longer, 2021 version had the previous foundation, and therefore did not need this long for preparation), and singers would have to take a few months to prepare for their fan meetings and concerts, television and movie actors would have to take a few months to film their dramas. In rehearsing this play, the actors would have to reject many invitations, their “loss” in revenue could be up to millions or even more.

Xiao Zhan’s rehearsal period for “A Dream Like A Dream” appeared to be an empty period to the external world, but plays truly needed wholehearted participation into practice time.

Director and playwright Lai Shengchuan said, plays are even a greater challenge to these stars, because their capabilities, their acting skills, would be obvious to the audiences after 2 or 3 shows, and this will dictate the success of the play in Mainland China.

Hence for the first entry to Mainland China, all the preparation from all angles had to start from zero, the 2013 version encountered many difficulties in terms of location, props, etc. While the cast attracted a lot of attention, the strict control behind the stage, for example, prop preparation was actually done by a Year 4 Journalism student; the rehearsal initially started in a crude empty factory. Then, the in-charge of Yanghua Theatre, Wang Keran, was the main in-charge for bringing in “A Dream Like A Dream” into Mainland China, he and his team’s office was in a simple 3 bedroom apartment, he directly said that bringing in this play was to raise the influence of plays but he could not bankrupt the backstage, hence cost also had to be tightly controlled.

For the 2021 version, the documentary gave me the most anticipation was the process that in the 2013 version, the actors and the directors went through a lot of breakthrough and recreation process during their rehearsals. While rehearsing, Xu Qing gave a totally opposite view on her role to Lai Shengchuan (on Gu Xianglan’s love to Baron), the understanding and identity from the actors themselves were in fact the most important part to character creation. Finally, Xu Qing’s persistence convinced Lai Shengchuan, who specially added some scenes in Act 9, and allowed the character Gu Xianglan to be more logical. Lai Shengchuan was a renowned Asian Theatre master, “A Dream Like A Dream” was his 3rd script after his 10+ years of experience. Even so, when meeting a brand new acting crew, the script might still display its inadequacy or limitations with the times, etc. At this moment, it would require actors to use their acting experience to improve upon it, and perform character and scene recreation. We could say that, Xu Qing was a good actress who had her own opinions and thoughts, and was persistent about them, Lai Shengchuan was a good director who progressed with the times.

It just so happened today that Xu Qing praised Xiao Zhan, I believe that with my narration on this part, everyone would understand how much weight Xu Qing’s praise carried — there is no praise that is more encouraging than that from a fellow actress who is persistent and serious.

I believe that Xiao Zhan is also a hardworking actor who will seriously analyze his scripts, and have his own opinions and thoughts. Hence, I really look forward to fireworks that Xiao Zhan and “A Dream Like A Dream” would create, as well as the new soul this would bring to the role, Patient No. 5.

Lower Half

Firstly, the documentary introduced the costume designer for “A Dream Like A Dream”, renowned designer, Ye Jintian. Ye Jintian was the costume in-charge for many movies and dramas, the most famous ones were “A Better Tomorrow” and “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon”, he also won the Oscar for Best Costume Design for the latter movie. 2021’s Costume Design Executive was still Ye Jintian. When rehearsal conditions were unable to reach the performance conditions, actors would have to use costumes to find their entry into the character, and as such, it showed how important costumes were to the play.

The premiere in 2013, was such a major cultural event, in the press conference before the first show, they exhibited a shorter segment of the play. Lai Shengchuan wanted people to focus on the story itself, but the media placed their attention on the star-studded cast, the 8 hour long performance, the ring shaped stage, and other gimmicks etc. Lai Shengchuan said, that was the misguidance of the media focus. I felt that, that was unavoidable, since it was a challenge, it was even more so an opportunity, because everything would increase the attention on the play itself eventually. Lai Shengchuan hoped that people would not watch this play for entertainment or escapism, but instead, use this story to face their problems directly, to think about the meaning of life and death.

Surprisingly, the documentary then emphasized on the participating well-known singer’s influence. It said that she had millions of passionate fans, many of them entered the theater because of her, whereas in Lai Shengchuan’s vision, the audiences for “A Dream Like A Dream” were those who had watched many other plays before. We could even say that such a young and influential singer’s addition then truly changed the audience composition for such an elite form of art. On this, Producer Wang Keran expressed that it was something the production team was happy to see, because marketization was the nutrient for such highend art. Moreover, “A Dream Like A Dream” was 8 hours long, they had 400 over sets of costumes, as well as many innovative stage art design, the cost was very huge. Hence, the show for this type of play became a gamble, a gamble between art and market. After all, theater workers would have to eat, and audiences only cared about results, and they would not analyze the difficulties behind it.

The 2021 version that Xiao Zhan joined was built upon the mature experience of 7 years of public showing from the 2013 version, and definitely had lesser problems, but due to Xiao Zhan’s commonly known qualities, the 2021 version would carry the same mission as the 2013 version: using the actor’s huge influence and interest, attract more “first time goers” for theaters, and use the market to nourish the play. To Xiao Zhan personally, this was the rarest and best experience for an actor.

I would mostly skip through the following interview of the famous actor, but there was an important phrase within which he generally said, “To return to theater is to remove the burden of a celebrity.” I felt that this point was suitable to Xiao Zhan.

That time, the production company for “A Dream Like A Dream” (should be Yanghua Theatre) was actually not rich, we could see that the theater scene was still in its infancy. The Stage Designer Zhang Zhelong, was also very competent, he created many aesthetic and unique stage effects for “A Dream Like A Dream”, the most famous was the handover between 2 Gu Xianglans, 2 graceful figures, the former slowly absorbed into the light, blurry and vague, just like a dream. The 2021 version’s Stage Designer is still Zhang Zhelong.

Finally, it was the interview with the well-known actor Jin Shijie, who acted as Baron then. He said that now is the era for speed, everyone could use an electronic device to watch many shows in a night, they could even watch new technologies such as 3D. But, plays were like they carried many ancient rituals. You would need to leave the house, take a car ride, queue, and then sit in among a group of strangers, and watch the stage in the dark, and finally return home. These process were complex, but yet it also seemed especially ceremonious — hence Jin Shijie said that the stage was the most primitive. Whereas for me personally, I like this type of primitive art, this is a form of art that up close, without any misplacement in time and space, and the most realistic.

#xiao zhan #sean xiao #xiaozhan #肖战

[chicgeekgirl89]

Where Hope is Left So Incomplete

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Characters: Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Melissa McCall, Chris Argent, Noah Stilinski, McCall Pack

Rating: T

Summary: Derek has one hand on the wheel and with the other he’s calling the hospital, speaking fast, leaving out any details that might raise suspicion. A werewolf at the wheel is definitely faster than an ambulance, but it’s still taking far too long. Scott is literally holding his friend together, he can hear Stiles’ heartbeat growing weaker with every passing minute, and despite his best efforts there’s blood leaking everywhere. “Derek,” Scott says as they squeal around another curve, “Derek I think he’s dying.”

A/N: This fic takes place maybe a year or two after the events of "Wolves of War." It assumes Isaac returned at some point, Stiles never went back to the FBI, Derek stuck around, and the war against supernaturals continues. Title taken from "Running With the Wolves" by Aurora.

Read on AO3

It’s an ambush. Or an assassination, Scott’s not sure which. He lets out a roar, eyes blazing, fangs bared, as steel bites deeply into his flesh. Turning he catches a hunter directly in the chest with his claws and hurls him through the air. The gash stings, blood dripping down his arm, swirling through dirt and sweat and turning his skin into a macabre painting. At least the knife is free of wolfsbane, the familiar burn is missing from his wounds.

His head is throbbing, it feels like his brain is being squeezed by a vice and it’s messing with his ability to focus, to hear, to sense where everyone else is. They’ve got some kind of device, an upgrade of the ones the Argents used to use and damn is it working. 

He rips one of the devices from the ground and hurls it against a tree feeling some satisfaction when it smashes into a thousand pieces against the trunk. It gives him enough relief to take a beat and assess their situation; Derek is thrashing another guy nearby, and from the sound of things, he’s winning. What’s become suspiciously absent are Stiles’ yells. Scanning the woods he can’t make out his friend’s gangly form anywhere. Hopefully that means Stiles has done the smart thing and tucked himself away somewhere that the hunters can’t find him.

Monroe’s lackeys don’t care that Stiles is human, they’re just as happy to take him out as any of the rest of the McCall pack and they’ve made that perfectly clear on more than one occasion. Scott tries not to think about the fact that Chris needed surgery on his back last month for an injury he’d received at the hands of a hunter. Or that they tried to take Lydia six months ago and were only stopped by Derek’s quick thinking.

They’re not supposed to be here. The pack has a perimeter and they’ve been diligent about not letting anyone through. It’s been over a year since anyone tried to attack them on their own soil. This is their turf, they’ve staked their claim. It’s a safe space, a haven, a promise of home and family and respite. At least it was. Until tonight.

Scott tries not to think about what it means that this group has gotten bold enough to sneak into the preserve in the dead of night. Tries not to think what would have happened if it were some of his younger charges who’d been caught unaware on patrol. As it is he and Derek are having a hard time holding them off.

His moment to plan is over as he’s assaulted again by a rather beefy hunter, one who is holding a knife so large it may as well be a sword. Scott lets out another roar, claws slashing mercilessly.

It’s then he hears a familiar yell and realizes that Stiles has not gone into hiding as directed, but has instead attempted to get the drop on the hunters. And of course he is armed with absolutely nothing but his trusty baseball bat, although given that he has the element of surprise, it’s working surprisingly well.

He drops two hunters in one, fell swoop and then looks up at Scott with a triumphant grin. “I knew this would come in handy someday!” he yells, raising the bat high.

Scott sends him a grin back. It’s a mistake, a horribly foolish mistake he realizes later. If he hadn’t been so caught up in the moment, if he hadn’t been so damn cocky about their ability to hold the line, what happened next wouldn’t have come to pass.

There’s a terrible, high pitched whine that has him clapping his hands over his ears in pain, and then the world explodes. 

Scott feels his feet briefly leave the ground and then it comes rushing up to meet him again, knocking all the air from his lungs. He rolls onto his back, head spinning, as he tries to get a handle on himself. 

Air slowly leaks back into his chest and he heaves a breath, pushing himself up onto his elbow. He can see Derek doing the same, several feet from him, shaking his own head as if he can’t quite remember what’s going on.

“You okay?” Scott chokes out.

“Yeah,” Derek says, though his face is bloody and Scott can see some shrapnel has torn through his shirt. 

Scott is pretty sure he’s broken a few ribs himself, he can feel them grating in his chest as he continues to suck in air, but everything else seems to be intact. The hunters…not so much. There are several bodies parts lying around and considering his and Derek’s are still attached, it seems the hunters were felled by their own weapons. “What the hell was that?” he asks, attempting to get up.

“Some kind of bomb,” Derek says, getting to his own feet and scanning the area. “We need to get out of here.”

There’s a whimper, a pathetic, horrible, pained whimper and Scott comes fully back to himself because he knows, he knows without even looking who that agonized, awful sound is coming from. “Stiles!” he cries, spotting him sprawled and broken at the base of a large boulder.

He stumbles toward his friend, his own body perhaps more injured than he initially thought, and falls to his knees, eyes widening in shock and horror.

Stiles’ eyes are closed and his left leg lies at an awkward angle. Scott knows without even touching it that it’s broken, maybe in more than one place. But worse, so much worse, is the blood pouring out of Stiles’ abdomen. His shirt has gone dark with it and there’s already a puddle forming on the ground next to him. 

“Stiles,” Scott whispers placing his hands over the wound, pressing down, trying with all his might to keep Stiles’ life from flowing out of him. 

Stiles lets out a pained cry at the pressure and without even thinking Scott begins to pull, thick ropes of dark pain swirling under his skin.

“Scott,” Derek drops beside him, eyes still scanning the area for danger. “Scott we need to get him out of here.”

“We can’t move him,” Scott’s voice cracks in panic, but even in the midst of all this he still has a nurse for a mother and her words come tumbling out now. “He could have a spinal injury.”

“It’s not going to matter if he has a broken spine if we all die out here,” Derek says urgently.

He’s right, of course he’s right, but Scott is having a really hard time formulating any sort of plan right now. You think he’d be used to it, watching those he loves suffer for his choices, but he isn’t. It never gets any better, it just makes the hole inside his chest larger and larger until it feels like it will swallow him—

“Scott!”

Derek’s sharp tone brings Scott back to himself and he takes a shaky breath, trying to formulate a plan. “Yeah,” he says. “You’re right. We have to get him out of here.”

His whole body is screaming at him in pain but he manages to get Stiles into his arms. “You want me to take him?” Derek asks. 

His own face is pale and he’s limping, clearly in no better shape than Scott. “I’ve got him,” Scott says firmly, even though his vision is swimming a little bit and his ribs are burning inside his chest.

Stiles lets out another whimper and Scott shifts him until his fingers find the bare flesh of Stiles’ arm and he resumes sucking pain from him as fast as he can.

It’s an endless trek to the car for all of them. Derek appears to be struggling, he’s clearly more hurt than he’s let on, they have all just been blown to bits after all. And Scott…Scott’s only focus is on Stiles and making sure that he gets jostled as little as possible as they stumble across the forest floor. 

He hasn’t woken up or said anything, just letting out an occasional moan or gasp of pain and it’s beyond unnerving that the usually chatty Stiles has gone silent. Only his noisy breaths confirm that he’s still alive as they stumble along over the uneven ground.

By the time they reach the car Derek looks a little better, but Stiles has gone so pale it’s taking Scott back to the nogitsune days and it terrifies him. “How’s he doing?” Derek asks as he hits the gas.

“Drive fast,” is all Scott can say as he uses one hand to keep pressure on the wound and the other to sap pain from Stiles as fast as he can manage. 

Derek has one hand on the wheel and with the other he’s calling the hospital, speaking fast, leaving out any details that might raise suspicion. A werewolf at the wheel is definitely faster than an ambulance, but it’s still taking far too long. Scott is literally holding his friend together, he can hear Stiles’ heartbeat growing weaker with every passing minute, and despite his best efforts there’s blood leaking everywhere. “Derek,” Scott says as they squeal around another curve, “Derek I think he’s dying.”

The wounds in Stiles’ abdomen are so eerily similar to Allison’s and Scott feels panic rise up in him again. He cannot lose someone again. He literally can’t survive it. Not this time. Not Stiles.

Derek spares a half second to glance back and then presses the pedal all the way to the floor. “Just hold on.”

“Derek, I think…I don’t know…should I—“ Scott trips over his own words, panic making them lie heavy in his throat. “Derek I can’t lose him.”

“I know,” Derek says. “I know, just hang on.”

“I think I…should I give him the bite?” 

Even through the tears in his eyes he sees Derek stiffen in his seat. “Scott…”

It’s not something Stiles has ever wanted, something he’s flat out turned it down on more than one occasion. Stiles is not a supernatural. He’s just Stiles. He doesn’t need claws or fangs and he doesn’t want them. But Scott…Scott doesn’t want a world without Stiles in it.

“Derek,” Scott says urgently. He needs some guidance here. He needs Derek to tell him what to do.

“No.”

The weak, raspy response isn’t from Derek and Scott’s eyes drop downward to find Stiles staring up at him, eyes glazed with pain. “No I don’t—I don’t want it,” he rasps, sucking in a rattling breath.

“Stiles we may not have a choice,” Scott tells him, voice breaking.

“There’s alway….a choice.” Stiles’ eyes squeeze shut and he lets out a guttural moan. Blood bubbles from his lips.“Scott…Scott it hurts.”

“I know, I know it does,” Scott squeezes his arm more tightly and pulls harder, faster, drawing pain like a river through his own veins.

He can feel the wounds on his back and arms, the ones that had started to knit back together, begin to reopen, blood trickling across his skin, but he doesn’t stop, not even when he begins to gasp for air himself, breath coming in short pants as the pain goes all the way to his core. It’s like every nerve ending is on fire but he doesn’t stop, not for anything. Stiles doesn’t deserve to be in pain. 

“Scott.” 

His name is a terrified whimper and it brings tears to Scott’s eyes. “I’m right here Stiles. You’re going to be okay, I promise.”

Stiles’ eyes slide closed and his jaw goes slack. Scott hears his heartbeat stutter, then sluggishly let out another beat, as if it’s a candle trying to withstand a hurricane. “Derek!” Scott yells terror filling the car.

“We’re here!”

They screech into the parking lot and Derek is out of the car practically before he’s stopped it, ripping open the door so that it likely won’t ever close right again, and helping Scott pull Stiles from the car. If Scott had half a thought to spare he’d think about how many times they’ve lived through this exact moment, a mad dash to the hospital, an anxious wait for results, answers, hope.

But as it is he can hardly think anymore because all that matters is Stiles and drawing as much of his pain into himself as he possibly can.

“We need help!” Derek yells as they burst through the doors and within seconds Stiles is on a gurney and being pulled toward the ER. Scott runs alongside him, hand still glued to Stiles’ bloody, limp arm. 

“You need to stay here,” one of the nurses tells him. Her name’s Claire, Scott somehow remembers. She’s in his mom’s book club. “Let him go. We’ve got him Scott.”

But he can’t. He can’t let his best friend go through those doors. Because if he does…that might be the last time he ever sees him.

“Scott!” Derek is right in his face, grabbing onto his arm and wrenching it away from Stiles because apparently Derek has the presence of mind not to lose his shit right here in the hospital emergency room.

Scott pulls away from him and reels back a bit, leaning against the wall, panting, eyes glued to the doors they’ve just pushed Stiles through. “Scott?” Derek is back in his face, eyes worried. “Scott are you okay?”

Scott can’t answer, his body has gone oddly numb, his chest tight. Black spots dance in front of his eyes and he can’t move, can barely even breathe. “Scott how much of his pain did you take?” Dereks asks, worry increasing by the second.

Scott looks at him vacantly. “All of it.”

And then he’s falling, Derek’s arms catching him as he floats away into nothing.

When he wakes up he feels weak. He can’t even remember the last time he’s felt like this. It’s like every bit of strength has been sapped from his body. He can barely even lift his eyelids, let alone a limb. Everything aches and throbs as if he’s burning up with fever or been hit by a truck.

He lets out a half a grunt as he forces his eyes open. “Easy,” Derek says and after a moment Scott’s vision clears enough to make out the other wolf sitting in a chair at the foot of his bed. He’s in a hospital room hooked up to several monitors, the cheap sheets scratching against his skin.

“Stiles?” Scott asks, his voice a broken whisper.

Derek shakes his head and Scott’s heart does an unpleasant lurch. “He’s in surgery. It’s…they’re still working on him,” Derek says heavily.

Scott looks up at the ceiling and tries to breathe, tries to stop the horrible sense of dread bubbling in his stomach. “What happened?” he finally manages.

“You almost killed yourself,” Derek says it mildly, in that annoyingly superior way he does when he thinks you’ve done something really stupid that he would never, ever stoop to do. But Scott can sense his restless fear under the surface, masked by sarcasm and biting comments. “You’re lucky you’re an alpha and Stiles is just a human. You know better than to take that much pain. You drained yourself dry. They had to restart your heart and give you stitches. You literally had to be sewn back together Scott.”

“I didn’t want him to be in pain,” Scott says, wincing as he tries to get into a more upright position. It’s futile, his limbs refuse to cooperate.

“Right because two dead pack members is so much better than one.” Derek glares at him. “It’s going to take you a week to recover from this. You couldn’t wolf out right now even if it was a lunar eclipse on a full moon.”

Scott sighs. He knows Derek is right, but it doesn’t change anything. “He shouldn’t even be a part of all this.”

“Yeah well, he may not be anymore.” Scott looks up and finds a glimmer of darkness passing over Derek’s face. For all his bravado and stoicism, Derek has a soft spot for Stiles. They all do. And losing him…it would be like losing the sun.

There’s a buzzing next to him and he turns his head enough to see his phone light up. “Oh yeah, Lydia called. About forty-five times,” Derek says.

Scott bites back a groan and through sheer force of will pulls himself upward, reaching for the phone. Derek under-exaggerated. He has over a hundred text messages from Lydia, Malia, Chris, Isaac, Liam…pretty much every single member of the pack. Plus his voicemail is full and there’s a backlog of missed calls. Most of those are also from Lydia.

“She’s on her way,” Derek says, holding up his own phone. “She calls for updates every ten minutes.”

Lydia’s at school. Safe. Away from all this. Or at least she was. 

“That’s Lydia,” Scott says, stifling a groan as he reaches for his pants.

“Whoa, hey, what are you doing?” Derek gets out of his chair, hand outstretched to stop him.

“I need to check on Stiles,” Scott says.

“Um, hell no,” Derek says firmly, pushing him back against the pillows. “You basically died. Again. You need to stay right here.”

His mom chooses that moment to enter and Scott feels immediate worry. “Mom, Stiles, is he—“

“Still in surgery,” she says, her face tight and drawn. “How are you feeling? And don’t give me that ‘I’m fine’ crap. I swear if you were still a kid I would ground you forever for doing this to me again.”

But despite the sharpness of her words, her hands smooth his bedsheets, fussing with them and his IV line until she’s satisfied everything is in its place. “I’m sorry,” Scott says.

She sighs and squeezes his arm gently. “I know you are. I know you all are.”

Scott swings his eyes back to Derek. “The perimeter?”

“Isaac and Malia went to check it out. Chris is going to meet them,” Derek says. “He’ll make sure no one else gets hurt.”

For the first time all night Scott feels relief. If Chris is there, the rest of the pack is safe for now. He’ll prevent anyone else from from getting blown up or shot or stabbed. “I need to get back out there.”

“What you need,” Melissa corrects him, tucking the blankets a little tighter as if that will somehow keep him down, “is to rest. All of you,” she says, shooting a pointed look at Derek that says she is not, and has never been, fooled by his bravado. “Stiles is going to need you here when he wakes up.”

Scott does feel exhausted. It’s as if all the strength has disappeared and even his bones feel bruised.

“Where’s the Sheriff?” Scott asks, thinking guiltily of the continued agony they put that man through. 

“He’s in the waiting room,” Melissa says.

Derek stands immediately. “I’ll go sit with him.”

Scott nods his thanks. The sheriff is pack. You don’t let family sit alone through something like this. 

“I have to go,” Melissa tells him. “But you stay put all right? None of that disappearing from the hospital or anything. Let someone else handle it for a change.”

He equal parts wants to protest that he doesn’t do that…and do that very thing. But right now his body feels glued to the bed. “Mom, I’m sorry,” he says again, because he is. So sorry. For everything.

She runs a gentle hand through his hair. “It’s not your fault. Get some rest.”

He’s sure he won’t be able to sleep but it’s possible she’s slipped a sedative into his IV because when he opens his eyes again he can tell several hours have passed and now Liam is at the foot of his bed. “Hey man,” he says worriedly as Scott opens his eyes. “You okay?”

Better maybe, okay definitely not. His body feels less leaden and the itching in his wounds tells him they’re finally starting to knit back together. “I’m fine,” Scott says, this time managing to get himself into an upright position that somewhat resembles sitting, although it fucking hurts to do it. “Any word on Stiles?”

Liam shakes his head and Scott feels another spike of fear. It’s been too long, way too long. Scott grits his teeth and slides his legs over the side of the bed, ignoring his shaking limbs and throbbing head. “Oh, I—“ Liam blocks his path and looks at him sheepishly. “Derek says I’m not supposed to let you leave.”

“I’m your alpha,” Scott says, pulling a card he rarely does. He’s not here to order people around and make them do things they don’t want to. “You listen to me, not Derek.”

“Yeah, I know,” Liam says, not moving. “But uh, your mom also told me not to let you move and…” he leans close, his voice low, eyes darting to the door, “I’m way more scared of her than I am of you.”

He’s an alpha werewolf and a grown adult, but apparently his mother stills runs his life. Perfect. Normally he’d ignore Liam and leave anyway, but he’s pretty sure a stiff breeze could knock him over right now so if it comes to a fight, Liam is definitely going to win. 

The door to his room opens and Chris comes in looking battle weary. “Is everyone all right?” Scott asks immediately.

“Everyone’s fine. We’ve got guards all around the perimeter, human and supernatural. No one’s getting through the line again tonight,” Chris says. “We swept the whole area and didn’t find any more devices. I left Malia and Isaac out there. Theo was on his way too.”

Scott feels a modicum of relief. “Thank you,” he says, throat thick with grief and fear. 

Chris nods to Liam. “Give us a minute?”

Liam heads out the door looking relieved. It must not be super fun to be on babysitting duty. How are you?” Chris asks, stepping closer. “Heard you did a number on yourself.”

Scott finds he can’t speak, tears rising up to the surface. He’s tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of losing. Tired of always being one step behind Monroe and her minions. Tired of worrying day and night that if he makes one wrong move he’ll lose everyone he loves. Tired of being the one everyone turns to for answers, when he clearly doesn’t have any.

And now his best friend, a person who deserves more than anything to be safe and happy, is dying somewhere in this hospital and there’s nothing he can do about it. 

He folds, crumbling in on himself, hot tear stinging his eyes. Arms come around him, pulling him in for a tight hug, holding him like he’s a child again. “This is not your fault,” Chris says softly. “None of this is your fault.”

But it is. It all is. 

Scott finds himself clutching at Chris’ jacket, fingers clinging to the rough fabric, desperately needing something to hold onto. “I can’t lose him,” he manages to choke out.

Chris tightens his hold. “Stiles is a fighter. He may not be supernatural, but he’s overcome worse than this. You have to hold onto that.”

He wants to. God he wants to believe that everything is going to be all right. But things seem so bleak and hopeless. They’ve been fighting for so long and all they’ve got to show for it is battle weary fighters, some of them little more than kids, and a mountain of loss. 

Chris continues to speak, cutting through Scott’s strife and self pity. “You’re in the middle of a war. And I know how hopeless it seems. But you have right on your side. You have faith. You have love. All the other side has is fear. That’s a powerful motivator; but love, that’s a lot stronger. That’s an anchor. You know that. Allison knew that. Stiles knows that. So hold on. Hold on and rise up stronger to fight again.”

Scott takes a few shaky breaths and finally pulls away. Chris puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes gently. “You good?”

Scott nods and swipes at his face, wiping away the moisture there. The door opens and his mom walks in. “Oh, hey Chris,” she says in surprise. Her eyes find Scott. “Stiles is out of surgery.”

Scott sits up straighter. “Is he…?”

“Broken femur, three broken ribs, dislocated shoulder, internal organ damage, and a hell of a lot of blood loss,” she says frankly. “It would be easier to list things that weren’t damaged.”

“Is he…” Scott swallows, afraid of the answer, “Is he going to be all right?”

“They’ve got him in ICU. It’s touch and go right now.”

“Can I see him?”

Melissa’s eyes shift briefly to Chris and then back to Scott. “Honey they haven’t even let his dad go up yet. And you aren’t back to one hundred percent yet either.”

Waiting is agony. Scott’s only comfort over the next few days is that Derek frequently sneaks up to ICU and back out again giving them essentially the same report every time; “He looks like a ghost. He’s still breathing. His heart is still beating.”

People drift in and out of his hospital room, Lydia, Theo, Liam, Malia, Isaac, Corey, Mason, all of them stuck in some sort of zombie limbo, unable to find any light or joy in the situation.

Scott still hasn’t seen Noah. According to Derek he hasn’t left Stiles’ side, not a surprise to any of them. 

Scott feels himself improve physically day by day, but emotionally he’s a wreck. With every passing hour he feels the noose of guilt pull tighter around his neck. Even after his mom finally relents and gets him discharged, (at least this time they don’t have to explain his miraculous healing, there hasn’t been any) he stays at the hospital, wearing holes in the waiting room floor along with the rest of the pack. 

He’s beyond grateful to Chris who has completely taken charge of their refugees, controlling the border, checking in with other packs out of town, even calling the London pack and advising them that they might need backup. 

It’s three days later when Melissa comes briskly into the waiting room, a tentative smile on her face. “He’s awake,” she says and the room lets out a collective sigh. “He talked to Noah for a few minutes. They’re running some more tests now but things look good.” She takes in the bedraggled and traumatized group. “You all should go home.”

A few of them do, reluctantly and only at Scott’s insistence. Malia and Isaac have been splitting time between the hospital and patrolling and neither of them look like they’ve slept or had real food in days. But Derek still doesn’t go anywhere and Lydia is glued to the hospital as well. 

It’s another day before Stiles is finally moved out of ICU and they’re allowed to see him one at a time. Scott lets Lydia go first and she returns, eyes even redder than before. “You okay?” Scott asks.

She nods but he can tell she’s struggling. “He just looks so…” she can’t finish and it lodges a lump in his throat as he walks down the hall to his best friend’s room.

He knows what Lydia means immediately. Just looking at Stiles is painful. He leg is elevated and he’s so pale he practically blends into the sheets and pillows. 

Noah is sitting by his bedside looking completely exhausted and Scott feels a familiar jolt of guilt in his gut. “Sheriff,” he says softly by way of greeting.

“Hey Scott.” The sheriff’s voice is rough. “He just went back to sleep.”

“That’s okay,” Scott says, eyes trained on Stiles’ face. It’s enough to see him, to hear his heartbeat, slow but steady. 

“How are you?” Noah asks. “I heard you got pretty beat up too.”

“I’m fine,” Scott says. He’s definitely not telling the sheriff that the most he’s managed to do in the last couple days is pop his claws and even that was a huge effort that had him doubled over and panting afterward. “Sheriff Stilinski I—“

Noah shakes his head. “Don’t even go there,” he says. “We all know who’s to blame for this and it sure as hell isn’t you.”

Then why does it feel like his fault? “He should have gone back to D.C.,” Scott says softly. “He would have been safe.”

“He was going to work for the FBI Scott,” Noah says. “That’s not exactly a guarantee either. And he’s only ever wanted to be here with you.”

The words do little to soothe Scott’s anguished spirit, but his time is running out, other people want to come and visit. He reaches out a hand to touch Stiles’ arm, a single spot that isn’t covered in tubes or bandages. He pulls, gently. There’s not much pain, the morphine and other drugs are working, but he takes what little there is.

He immediately feels light headed and breathless, like someone punched him right in the gut. His knees go weak, but he locks them into place and doesn’t stop until Stiles’ face smoothes out completely and he relaxes into the pillows.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers out, voice choking on tears that are once again threatening to fall.

He turns to go but spots dance before his eyes and he reaches out, grabbing onto the IV pole for support. 

“Scott,” the sheriff is on his feet, hands reaching for him, his haggard face full of new concern.

“I’m okay,” Scott gasps, letting the IV pole go, trying to steady himself on his feet. “It’s fine.”

And then Derek is there, shoving an arm under his shoulder. “Are you trying to kill yourself?” he asks in exasperation.

“How did you—“

“I heard your heartbeat,” Derek says. “I had a feeling you would do something like this. Come on, you need to sit down.”

“What happened?” Lydia asks as Derek dumps a practically boneless Scott in a waiting room chair.

“Someone decided to take Stiles’ pain. Again,” Derek says. It comes out as a growl. Derek is furious.

Scott’s head is spinning and his chest has gone tight again. “Scott what the hell is wrong with you?” Malia asks. 

“He doesn’t deserve to be in pain,” Scott groans.

“Well neither do you!” Liam says. “Scott if you can’t help protect the pack, that’s really bad!”

“Yeah, not to put any pressure on you, but Liam is kind of a crappy alpha,” Malia says, not nearly as quietly as she thinks.

“I’m right here!” Liam fires back indignantly.

“He’s moody,” Malia mouths, eyes wide as she points at him to convey her point.

“Scott you need to go home,” Derek cuts in. 

“I can’t leave,” Scott manages. “He needs me.”

“He has literally the entire rest of the pack here,” Malia says.

“Scott,” Lydia’s voice is soft and she puts a hand on his arm, large eyes worried. They seem to be in that state constantly lately. Just another thing to add to his list. “You can go. We’ve got this. We won’t let anything happen to him.”

They don’t leave him much choice, especially not when Derek and Liam haul him up and out to the car. He’s really going to have to work on instilling more loyalty in Liam, because one menacing glare from Derek and he’s following the former alpha’s bidding like a lapdog.

Scott’s asleep before they even leave the hospital and he doesn’t wake up until morning, still fully clothed in his bed, minus his sneakers. There’s a note from Derek threatening him with further bodily harm if he shows up at the hospital before noon and a sheepish text from Liam apologizing for his part in last night’s debacle. And for accidentally bashing Scott’s head into a doorframe as he carried him upstairs.

It’s actually a few days before he gets back to the hospital. He wants to check the borders himself, make sure they are well and truly safe for now. And that steamrolls into him checking in with the new pack members, the other refugees and scraps of packs that have made their way to the safe haven Beacon Hills has become. 

Lydia updates him practically hourly and he knows that Stiles is staying awake for longer periods, has managed to keep down solid food, is now able to feed himself, and hold a conversation. 

And still Scott doesn’t return. Somehow it was easier when Stiles was still unconscious. He didn’t have to look at his friend’s eyes, to see the pain and what was likely anger there. Because how could Stiles not secretly hate him? If it wasn’t for him, for the bite, they would have gone on living their lives none the wiser. Stiles would be an FBI Agent, he would be a vet, and they would have just…lived.

Now it feels like they’re cursed.

The reasons that kept him at the hospital are the same ones that now keep him away. It’s weird. Any one of their misguided guidance counselors would probably tell him he needs to talk about that and examine it, but there’s no time. There isn’t time for anything but making sure everyone is safe.

Until his phone buzzes with a message from Derek. He’s asking for you.

And he knows, he can’t put it off any longer.

He waits until night, until he gets confirmation that everyone has gone home. Everyone except Derek. Derek won’t leave Stiles unprotected.

Scott pauses outside the door, a pit in his stomach that feels like a rock. He takes a deep breath and pushes the door open. “Scottttiiiieeee.” Stiles is all smiles and Scott can smell the drugs in his blood that are keeping him like that.

“Hey buddy,” Scott says, trying to force a smile onto his own face. Maybe in his drugged up state Stiles won’t notice that it’s fake as hell.

Derek is standing broodily in the corner and Scott flashes him a grateful look. If he can’t be with Stiles, he’s glad someone is.

Stiles is apparently still with it enough to sense a conversation going on without him and he frowns. “Are you the reason I have a personal bodyguard?” he asks.

“Someone tried to blow you up Stiles,” Scott says.

“Us,” Stiles says, holding up a wobbly finger of correction. “They tried to blow us up. I was just the only one who didn’t magically heal.”

“Yeah, I know,” Scott says, the weariness in his soul pulling him further downward at this reminder of Stiles’ human fragility. 

Derek chooses that moment to slip out the door. 

Scott rubs his hands on his jeans, uncertainty running through him like a river. Stiles may be drugged, but he’s still Stiles. “You want to talk about it?” he asks.

Scott’s head snaps up and he meets his friend’s gaze, eyes sharp and knowing. “About what?” Scott asks, still trying to come off as fine.

“About why you haven’t come by in days so that I had to deal with Grumpy Cat’s rather intense presence at my bedside vigil. About why you’re standing there castigating yourself over something that isn’t your fault.”

“I’m not—“

“Scott.” Stiles gives him a look. 

He knows. Of course he knows.They’ve been best friends their whole lives, he knows Scott better than Scott knows himself. 

“This was…it was way too close this time Stiles,” Scott says on a rush of air. “I was holding you, feeling you die and there was nothing I could do. And all I could think about—“

He chokes on his own words, but fortunately Stiles never runs out of them. “You thought about Allison,” he says seriously.

“And Aidan, and Boyd, and Erica,” Scott continues. “Deucalion. Brett. Lori. Stiles…the list…it’s too long. And if you get added to it…”

“Then it will have been my choice,” Stiles says and it stops Scott cold. “Because I chose to stay and defend my friends and family. My choice Scott. Not yours.”

Oh. Oh. 

Stiles is still going. “You didn’t choose to get the bite. But you chose everything that came after. You chose to fight for the right things Scott. You chose not to be a monster. Not all monsters do monstrous things, right? Well I chose this. I chose Beacon Hills. I choose this pack. I choose you. I choose Lydia. I…” he pulls a face, “begrudgingly choose Derek. Because he’s big and menacing and good at keeping bad guys away.”

Scott cracks a real smile, a sliver of light stealing its way back into his soul. “He is good at that.”

“I do not choose Theo,” Stiles continues, on a roll now. “Ever. For any reason. I choose Jackson if and only if he stops being an asshole.”

“I got it Stiles,” Scott says, face begrudgingly pulling into a full on grin.

“You sure? Because I can keep going. Liam I can take or leave depending on the day and how annoying he’s being.”

“Stiles, I got it!” Scott says, a genuine chuckle sneaking out. 

“There he is,” Stiles says, a smile on his own face. “That’s the Scott McCall I know. No more Gloomy Gus around here all right?”

“Stiles you’re in a hospital bed. You broke practically every bone in your body and almost bled out. I have a reason to be a little upset.”

“But I’m fine.” He looks down at his bandage covered body and reconsiders. “Well I will be. And so will you. Not that you didn’t also try to kill yourself on my behalf.” Stiles raises his eyebrows and Scott winces. “Oh yeah. Derek filled me in. On everything.”

“I just…didn’t want you to be in pain.”

“Yeah, well, while I appreciate the ever present existence of pain drain, you really don’t need to sacrifice yourself on my behalf. Again.” Stiles looks down as his hands. “But thanks. If you guys hadn’t gotten me here so fast…”

“Yeah,” Scott says, his eyes burning again. He’s cried more in the last week than he has since Peter bit him.

“You don’t need to take all this on by yourself Scott,” Stiles says quietly. “And you can’t protect everyone from everything.”

It’s a bitter thing to hear and he swallows it down painfully. It’s not like it’s the first time he’s been reminded of this, but he so badly wants to keep them all safe, to take them all back to a time before fangs and claws and glowing eyes ruled their lives. 

“Scott?” Stiles says, eyes searching him for a response.

“I just want you to be okay,” Scott says heavily. 

“I know,” Stiles says.

The two of them sit in the silence a moment, all the unsaid things, the weight of fighting a war they didn’t start hanging in the space between them. “I did take down two guys though,” Stiles finally says, breaking the tension.

“Yeah with your stupid bat,” Scott says, rolling his eyes. 

"Oh it’s definitely time for me to learn how to use a gun,” Stiles says. “A big one. Possibly also a flame thrower. Or a tank. Scott, I think we should get a tank.”

“I’m not letting you out again in anything less than full body armor,” Scott says, sinking down into a chair by his bed. 

“Oh! Yes. Body armor. We’ve got to have the budget for that somewhere right? Who knows that? Argent. He has to have some connections on that right? Legal ones?”

Scott sinks down into a chair beside Stiles’ bed and listens to him chatter on, feeling his own eyelids grow heavy. 

“Scott? Scottie?”

“Mhhmmm,” Scott murmurs, body relaxing as sleep pulls him downward. 

His best friend is alive. For now the border is safe. The pack is strong. And for the first time in a long time, soothed by the sound of Stiles’ voice, he falls into peaceful sleep.

#Teen Wolf #Scott McCall #Stiles Stilinski #Derek Hale #Stiles whump #Broken Bones #Blast injuries #Blood #Hurt Stiles #Emotional Hurt/Comfort #Lots of feels #Scott is a good friend #Scott is a good Alpha #Malia has the best lines by far #Teen Wolf Fanfic #Where Hope is Left So Incomplete

[spockandawe]

Hi....If you don't mind me asking, who are your favorite MXTX characters (top 5 from each novel)? And why? I'm sorry if you've answered this question before.

It’s absolutely no problem at all!! I don’t think I’ve been asked this before, but hey, I also have zero object permanence, so it keeps things fresh and new. And it’s interesting to see how my answers change over time! Lemme see, I think I’m going to go in reverse order, because I feel like then I’ll be doing the worst agonizing up front.

TGCF

Fifth favorite: YIN. YU. I know that he’s a minor character and him even making it onto the list is pretty solid performance, but I do feel guilty that he isn’t higher than this. He came out of nowhere in my first reading and punched me in the stomach with emotions. I find his sections so hard to read, and I was DEVASTATED when he died and BEYOND stoked to find out he was still alive in the extras. His story hurts so much! I am weak against characters who have relatively modest goals and still see them snatched away (see also: my next entry) and have to struggle on. I wish wish wish I had a way to see more of how he made his peace with things after being thrown out of heaven, and the nature of the (distant) relationship with Hua Cheng and what happens with Quan Yizhen now that he died in his arms, and still came back anyways, my god!

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Fourth favorite:  He Xuannnnnn. I have a hard time articulating particulars, but. I love him a lot. I love a character with a grudge, with a deep, painful grudge, where the grudge is hurting him almost as much as it’s hurting the people around him, and setting the grudge aside would also hurt, and then what has any of this been for-- I've used this metaphor for other characters, but I don’t care if I’m overusing it, because I love it. He feels like a character caught in a thorn bush, where simply being there... hurts, but trying to escape or move in any ways is going to hurt worse, and there’s no path forward that doesn’t involve pain. And like... I don’t love the way he hurt Shi Qingxuan (who didn’t quite make this list adfasgdafsd I’M SORRY) but I wouldn’t have liked to see him swallow back down all that pain and set aside everything that happened to his family and fiancee either! I’m always, always soft for characters who have no good path forward and who grit their teeth and set out anyways.

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Third favorite: MU QING!!!!!!!!!! I have done... extensive screaming about him. And I love him veryvery much. I can already tell that this list is going to have a lot of mean boys on it, and like... no regrets. Especially since this is one of my FAVORITE flavors, an unapologetic mean boy who is rarely (but sometimes!) soft for the people around him, and who regularly tries to do decently by people, but who consistently gets shat upon and misunderstood and accused of acting in bad faith. I screamed when he and Xie Lian finally got to talk their friendship out in the book. I also screamed when I realized how immediately after Xie Lian’s return he started looking out for him again, and how sincerely, despite his horrible attitude about it. I still want to write more fic for him so badly. I love him so much.

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Second favorite: Xie Lian! What a good boy! The best boy! He’s so sweet and gentle, but also the best fightboy this world has ever seen, and also so gently snarky with the people he loves! I just... really love me some traumatized characters who have trouble recognizing that they can be Loved, and I’m not going to write this whole essay right now, but I think in some ways, he’s the most... passive about his romance, out of all the leads? Shen Qingqiu is aggressively oblivious, but Xie Lian kind of gently shrugs off the idea that he might be Hua Cheng’s special someone, until he finally gets hit with the cluestick. I generally shy away from the idea of a character “earning” love, but he’s maybe the mxtx character who moves me most with ‘you deserve to be loved’

.

Most favorite: Hua Cheng. HUA CHENG. Oh my god, gotta love this boy. Gotta love this devotion. I love a mean boy who is soft for one person, and he EMBODIES it. I mean, I love Shen Jiu, but he barely manages to do the soft thing at all, while Hua Cheng is over here like ‘if I could only be the stone beneath your feet--’ It’s hard to talk about him separately from Xie Lian, because they’re a unit in my head more than just about any other characters on this list are. I don’t want to get this list to get out of control, so I’m not going to scream for too long, but... I could just watch him go forever. I want to write him forever, and that’s a huge aspect of what draws me to some characters.

MDZS

Oh god, I think I lied, I think this book is going to be hardest. Making these choices is AGONIZING.

Fifth favorite: .....Lan Wangji. Oh god, I feel bad about how low he is. But this story is just packed SO full of wonderful characters, and I’m already consumed with guilt over all the characters who aren’t going to make it. I don’t love them less! But my love for characters in this particular story is very evenly distributed. And I think that Wang Yibo’s acting is possibly scoring points with me that the book might not have earned all by itself. Microexpressions and subtle body language add SO MUCH to a character with such flat affect, and I would be drawn to such a closed-off character anyways, but it really helps. And I love, like... the combined subtlety and intensity of his relationships. It’s not that subtle once you know what to look for, and the brother/sworn brother network makes for varying degrees of how much other characters understand of the things he chooses not to explicitly express, and it gives a really interesting character to the way he interacts with the people around him. Also, love me a man with intense separation anxiety.

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Fourth favorite: Jiang Yanli? I think it has to be Jiang Yanli, but these rankings are hard. So. I just talked about how much I enjoy the flat affect and closed off nature of Lan Wangji? Well, guess what, I also love it when m’girl is just very GENUINELY AND OPENLY an absolute sweetheart of a person, and I love the contrast between her genuinely kind nature and the uncomfortable pressure that her family’s dynamics put on her to start parenting at a very young age. It’s not necessarily a happy situation, but she adores her brothers so much and they adore her so much! And it’s... a very understated element of the story, but after her parents died, her baby brothers went off to war, and one wreaked havoc as a straightforward commander and one of them disappeared for months and returned as a creepy-ass zombie puppeteer. And she STILL dotes on them like before, despite knowing what they’re capable of. Like, yes, Wei Wuxian just raised an army of corpses and forced a man to eat himself, but I shall still boop him on the nose and feed him Soup. How can I not adore energy like that?

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Third favorite: Wei Wuxian, I think. I do adore him a lot. He gives me some of the same vibes that make me ache most with Xie Lian, where he is trying his best, and is struggling to hold on in the face of lots of suffering, and I find it really interesting that when the suffering peaked, Xie Lian was forced go on because he couldn’t die, while Wei Wuxian... expired. That line about ‘he thought that no matter how large the world was, there was still no place for him’ always sticks with me, and hurts me deeply. Xie Lian had most of his personal attachments stripped away, and was left to wander on his own, while Wei Wuxian still had a number of strong connections left, but abruptly exited life. And that informs their respective trauma so interestingly! The way Wei Wuxian bounces between high energy chaos and drained exhaustion is really fascinating to me, and was the thread that held me attached to the book through a very confusing beginning. And I’m still very drawn to how intensely he loves, whether it’s Xiao Zhan’s fantastic acting, or it’s him busting out with how much he wants Lan Wangji in the middle of the Guanyin Temple scene. He’s a fantastic character, honestly, I don’t think such a convoluted book would have held together very well without a protagonist this strong.

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Second favorite: Xue Yang :X Look, he’s a good boy and I love him. Who among us hasn’t done a few mass murders that we are completely unrepentant about, but that we would really like to keep hidden from our current boyfriend, actually? Anyways, as always, love me an angry boy who makes terrible decisions for understandable reasons. And I do love a character who is consumed by agonized ragrets (see my next entry), but I DO also love me a character who has no regrets at all and doesn’t even have much interest in trying to justify himself to anyone else around him. Just look at that confidence! Look at him go!!

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Most favorite: Jiang... Cheng....... I knew he and Xue Yang were going to be at the top, but those were the only parts of this list that were easy. I mean. Love a self-sabotaging angryboy who is also super super sad and keeps hurting himself in his own confusion. And while I love the romantic thread in all of the mxtx books, the agonized family thread in mdzs is one of my favorite parts, and something that I don’t really see echoed in any of the other stories. I need ten million jc+wwx reconciliations, at LEAST. He’s so sad! And so angry! And I want to see him becoming less of that thing, and for Jin Ling and Wei Wuxian to demonstrate very firmly how much they love him, because they do. I am invested in his happiness in a way that goes far and beyond any of the other non-main characters, haha

SVSSS

Fifth favorite: Tianlang-jun. I think? Oh god, but moshang. THIS IS REALLY HARD, I HATE THIS ;-; But especially since writing my fic, Tianlang-jun has really won me over. And like, he already hurt me good in the novel, just thinking about how he was an innocent young guy, just! Trying to have a girlfriend! And instead got trapped in sensory deprivation, body-rotting-hell for twenty years, when he didn’t do anything wrong!!! He suffered, so much! And I live for his intensely strained relationship with Luo Binghe, because it’s! Perfectly understandable and painful, from both of their perspectives! And he wants to hate humans so badly, but in the end, when he’s told that Su Xiyan never betrayed him, he starts helplessly asking the people around him, ‘really? is it really true?’ and then in the end he loses the only family member he has left who cares about him, and it’s just! Everything is terrible! I have a su xiyan au brewing in my head because I can’t stand it! Someone just give this man a loving partner!!!

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Fourth favorite: Shen Qingqiu. But... moshang??? Goddammit. Anyways, this dumbass. I find him so endearing, in his dumbassery. I sometimes get a bit frustrated with Wei Wuxian for being oblivious, and Shen Qingqiu is just asking for me to react the same way, but I... don’t, for the most part? Because he thinks he has good information, and he’s slow to react to a changing playing field, and I still haven’t read another transmigration novel that strikes the same balance of hypercompetence and intense incompetence :ppp It’s a funny book, and he’s a funny character! And I really vibe with him, in most parts of the story, which covers a pretty darn wide emotional spectrum. Plus, the running internal commentary is choice.

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Third favorite: Liu Qingge. Look, I’m a woman of simple needs, and sometimes I just need a high-quality fightboy who clearly cares deeply and is absolute garbage at expressing his emotions. I can’t articulate it much better than that. I absolutely howl at the succubus extra, when Shen Qingqiu is talking to Madam Meiyin about his future partner, and Liu Qingge is like ‘oh my god, sHE IS CLEARLY DESCRIBING ME’ and Shen Qingqiu is like ‘haha, liu-shidi, i thought you thought this was stuupidddddddd’. They’re both so dumb. I love them so much. But stupidity plus war god fighting energy has a narrow lead over stupidity and internal commentary track.

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Second favorite: SHEN JIU. GOD. I’m still arguing with myself over whether he should go first, but Luo Binghe hurts me consistently through the whole entire story, so I think he wins. Shen Jiu just stabs me in the heart at strategic moments. This is it. My ideal mean boy who is soft for one (1) person, and who BOTH does unconscionable things for terrible reasons (someone just. give him a pile of girls to teach, it will be much more pleasant for everyone involved), and who ALSO gets blamed for things he didn’t do even when he tries to act in good faith. It is the best of all painful worlds. And even at the end, when he has a powerful person who wants desperately to protect him, he still tries his hardest to shove that person away, to keep him safe. I’ve got like four aus where he gets to live. I’m so invested in this character, I love him so much.

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Most favorite: Luo Binghe. He was.... made for me............ Like, the overwhelming amounts of childhood angst were baked in by Shang Qinghua, but the in-story pain and suffering is PRECISELY my jam. I love a character with separation anxiety! I love a character with massive anxieties over being unwanted! Over nobody ever, EVER just choosing him! I love a character struggling with the idea that the person he loves most in the world thinks that he’s intrinsically Disgusting! I love the kind of stubborn determination that leads him to preserve a corpse for five years, desperately hoping for a way to revive it, constantly cooking fresh food, in case, in case he someday wakes up. The way Hua Cheng loves is overpowering, but he’s had time to like... learn to be mellow when he needs to be. Luo Binghe doesn’t have a chill bone in his body, and if he’s acting chill, it’s probably because he’s done some mental math and decided that being more clingy right now will probably get him pushed away harder. I love the combination of manipulative tendencies and a very, very genuine fear of rejection and being unwanted. There is nothing I don’t love about Luo Binghe, including his worst decisions. I love him so so much.

#spock replies #long post/ #svsss #mdzs #tgcf #thanad-zid

[seasidewriter1-writes]

Replying to @elizabeth0020 for: Hello!! I’ve always wondered how you decide what arcs/episodes you’re going to write? There are sooooo many, how do you know what’s a good one for your story vs one that isn’t? And a second question (if you feel like answering lol): how do you picture all the details you wrote? Like lighting, movements, facial expression etc? You’re so good at that and I’ve always been amazed at how you come up with them!

I love answering anything and everything, so never worry about sending me too much! I don’t often get to talk about the technical stuff (like the questions you’ve asked), so I love getting any chance I have to talk about them! (So hold on tight, ‘cause this is a ramble! 😂)

So, for the first question regarding the arcs... I picked out what episodes/arcs I thought were beneficial when I did my first watch through of the Clone Wars this past summer. I had a google doc that I wrote down all the episode names in, then jotted down the preliminary ideas. Let me tell you, with a show that has seven seasons of 20+ episodes, it was... so daunting to even think about narrowing down what episodes and arcs to use. It was what initially deterred me from using any of them at all. So I started to look for things that I felt would directly impact Elara, her character, and her development. For example, I didn’t really use all of “Cat and Mouse” because the episode, on a whole, wouldn’t have Elara much involved in it. It did, however, provide a wonderful backdrop for her time on Christophsis, which is why I didn’t nix it entirely. Aside from forcing Obi-Wan and Elara to be tied together, “Dooku Captured” and “The Gungan General” were used to introduce her to Hondo, whom both allows her to be more playful, and showcases her knowledge of the seedier side of the galaxy. And there are plenty of episodes that I love and adore that I just... don’t think would fit. For as much as I love “Senate Spy” and the introduction of Clovis, there’s no way for me to put Elara into that episode and not have it feel forced. That’s another huge thing I look for when picking episodes; if Elara doesn’t feel like she would naturally fit into the storyline somehow, even if it’s indirectly, I’m not going to force her into it. That’s when I do things like mention the events of the episode in a chapter (like with “Clone Cadets”) instead of doing a whole episode. So Clovis is obviously going to get a mention (she’s Anakin’s sister and Padmé’s bestie, of course she’s going to hear about the debacle), but the whole episode won’t be written out.

Then, of course, you have the arcs. The ones that I had immediately chosen are (and these probably come as no surprise): Ryloth, Mandalore, Mortis, Slavers, and Deception. The arcs I find easier to choose because you have a chance to work with more surface area so to speak. It gives me a chance to really flesh out Elara’s part in the story, focus in on her and her emotions and how she’s tied to this particular plot. With the Mortis Arc, for example––Elara is a Skywalker. She is strong with the Force, and in the “Balance” verse, considered a Chosen One. That ties her into the Mortis Arc very interestingly, since it’s not just Anakin going God Mode. It’s going to lend me the chance to really dig deep into Elara, her connection to the Force, to the Light and Dark (the Daughter and Son), and her relationship to being a Chosen One. At first I was like ‘holy shit I’m never gonna be able to do this arc,’ and then when I buckled down and really thought it over... I realized it’s going to be really important for her as a character, and particularly her relationship with Anakin (stay tuned!). It also probably comes as no surprise that a lot of the arcs (and episodes) that get picked are influenced by whether or not Anakin or Obi-Wan are in them. Which is why I almost turned a blind eye to the Umbara Arc until someone brought it up. I did a rewatch of it and knew I had to include it, too. Because that’s going to be an awesome opportunity to flesh out how close Elara is to the 442nd, and be able to contrast her ideals as a General against those of Krell. A lot of the picking of episodes and arcs ends up being trial and error. I wrote the first four-ish pages of “Clone Cadets” before I realized it just didn’t flow right.

All this being said, I like to envision Elara is around for all of the Clone Wars episodes, so I’ve got lots of fun little random snippets for things that I’ll probably never write, but figure would happen in some part of a CW episode.

And after all that, here we finally are at your second question! ☺️

Coming up with all those small details is actually an amalgamation of things at work. I do attribute a lot of it to my training as an actor/theatre artist. I think about how, if I were directing it, how I’d want the movements to look, and how that would translate on both a small scale, and a large scale. A touch of a hand for Obi-Wan and Elara can feel like a world shifting movement––but come off as nothing but a simple, friendly gesture to their fellows. On a small scale, what makes the difference is the way the touch happens. How light the pressure of the touch is, how long it lasts, how slowly their fingers brush against the other person’s hand... all those things help me figure out the mood of that touch and how they’d respond to it. Also, when choosing words to describe movements I often think about the attitude attached to it. A ‘turn of the head’ when Anakin’s being moody may end up being a ‘swivel,’ or the ‘arch’ of an eyebrow from Obi-Wan is more sarcastic than a gentler ‘raise.’ I often agonize picking out those sorts of words. I’ll sit there and try them over and over again, then put them all into a Thesaurus website because I worry I use the same words too much. The thesaurus (particularly when writing Obi-Wan), is my best friend.

When I write mannerisms for canon characters, I use a lot of reference for. I’ll literally just scroll through gifs, watch movie clips, or rewatch the scene I’m writing to pick up on character-specific mannerisms. A couple chapters ago I was describing Anakin’s angry face, and I just looked at images of him from Revenge of the Sith (him alone in the Council room, him being knighted as Vader, his expressions on Mustafar, etc.) I’ll also do this for vocal ticks/inflections. I will also unashamedly admit I will sit there and compose my face into whatever expression I’m trying to describe. Sometimes feeling it physically, or physically composing it helps me come up with words or ways to describe the look. Same thing with touches AND with vocal inflection. Do I sit by myself and read what I’ve written aloud in my best Obi-Wan Kenobi cadence? Yes, yes I do. And has it helped me figure out what words/phrases do and do not work? Yes, it absolutely has!

Also, a lot of describing the details of motion/facial expression/touch gets affected by music for me. Like, if you listen to “Stairway to Heaven” as played by the London Philharmonic Orchestra while reading, say, the scene in “The Gungan General” where Obi-Wan and Elara wake up pressed up to one another... that song is just THE feel of that moment. Listening to the right music when writing (the little details especially) is big for me. Kinda like how “Blue Monday” is the music that works best for the bunker scene in “Storm Over Ryloth.”

There are also a lot of details that I pull from real life. I remember when I wrote Elara seeing Naboo for the first time—and consequently grass, trees, and flowers, too—it was summer time for me. I was staring out at the trees and the way the light filtered through them, watched how they swayed... the grass had just been cut and the breeze smelled sweet... and I was like ‘god, imagine experiencing this all for the first time.’ So I took what I felt and elevated it a little, tried to add a kind of wonder to the things that we all, for the most part, kinda take for granted. I like pulling on experiences I’ve had in real life as a basis.

I ask attribute a LOT of my detail work to my training as a theatre artist. I think about lighting now differently than I did a couple years ago; because I learned what kinda of light fit different moods. Like the scene of Obi-Wan at Dex’s would feel completely different if I’d described the light as cool toned. It would lack a sense of hope. His reminiscences would be sadder, it would feel more stark. The warmer tones suggest that there’s still heart and hope, a possibility for things to get better, and that reflects his inner life better than colder, bluer light. Or how I used light when I wrote Elara seeing Watto again after 10 years to describe her struggle between Dark and Light in that moment. She stepped out of the sun and into the shade because, for a moment, she almost gave in to the Darkness. (Inspired by the scene in Force Awakens where Kylo asks for Han’s help and the light shines down on them... with hints of red low lighting to hint at the struggle... only to have the light disappear as he overrides his own vulnerability, reverts to the Darkness and kills his own father).

I also love using physical objects as emotional triggers, like is done in theatre quite a bit. A good recent example being Elara’s lightsaber. Obi-Wan having it reminds him of his worries regarding her safety, and his struggle with choosing what path to take in regards to his feelings towards her. Or Elara with the Snow Blossom. These things have the ability to spark different emotions depending on the situation. On a good day, the Snow Blossom will make her smile; on a bad day, it may make her feel more sad than happy. And sometimes they don’t have to be objects—they can be bruises or scars or healing wounds. Having something physical spark an emotional response can be really helpful, and has actually helped me though rough spots in my writing.

I could literally go on for hours about all of this kind of stuff! So thank you for asking about it and giving me a chance to discuss it even a little bit! ☺️

#mary talks balance #mary responds #my writing stuff #detail work #elara skywalker #obi-lara #balance stuff #fic writing

[cozy-the-overlord]

Dances and Daggers

Summary:   The Summer Festival is upon Asgard, as is the tradition of the dagger ceremony, where each unmarried gentleman chooses a lady to bestow with the honor of carrying his dagger for the night. As Prince Thor’s betrothed, Teki’s only goal is to accept his dagger with grace and hope that her violent stepfather doesn’t find fault with her in the process. But Prince Thor is unpredictable, and when he ignores his engagement on a whim Teki finds herself in a desperate situation. Luckily, Thor isn’t the only prince in Asgard…

Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character

Chapter 5: The Aftermath

Previous Chapter  |  Next Chapter

Word Count: 1,752

Chapter Summary:  After her... outing at the lake with the young prince, Teki is just trying to lay low. 

A/N: This week’s chapter is pretty short... I thought about combining it with next week’s, but I really liked the note this ended on, so I decided against it. Hope you don’t mind!

Thanks for reading! :)

TW: mentions of child abuse, threats of violence

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae

Read it on Ao3!

Teki stiffly swept her hands across the keys. When she woke up to find that the Queen had sent a messenger asking her if she would like to stop by to play the piano for a bit this morning, she told herself it was a good thing. She loved playing piano—surely that would make her feel better.

It didn’t.

Her back ached as she balanced on the bench, her shoulders aflame every time she moved her arms too much. The melody, usually so sweet and soothing, rattled in her skull and beat her brain. Frigga had given her a book of sheet music, but the notes swam before her eyes. Several times, she hit the wrong key, and all she could do was cringe.

Her stepfather hadn’t been pleased with her little game of hide and seek the night of Loki’s Nameday Feast. Neither had he bought her explanation that she had been in the bathroom the entire time because she hadn’t been feeling well.

It could’ve been worse. He didn’t know what she had been up to, or who she had been up to it with. Her ruined dress reappeared in her closet with the rest of the clean laundry, washed and good as new. As far as Osvald was concerned, Teki had just run off and hid somewhere like the brat she was. She couldn’t imagine what he would have done had he known she had been wandering around the place grounds in a soaking dress with Loki.

Her fingers hit the wrong key again, and Teki flinched. This was humiliating.

“Tekla.” The Queen interrupted, moving from the couch to sit at the bench with her. Teki stopped, focusing only on her folded hands in her lap.

Frigga frowned. “Is everything all right, dear?” she inquired. “You don’t seem to be yourself today.”

“I’m fine, Your Majesty. Just a bit tired.” She could feel the sweat lining her brow. It was far too hot to be wearing high collared, long sleeved dresses, but it was the only way to hide all the bruises.

The concern in the Queen’s voice was apparent. “Are you certain?”

Teki nodded, still keeping her eyes in her lap. She felt if she met Frigga’s concerned gaze, she’d be liable to start crying, and that would be even worse than playing the wrong notes on the piano.

She didn’t seem convinced, but nodded regardless. “Well then, perhaps it would be best if you went to go lie down and get some rest,” she said, reaching out to rub Teki’s shoulder consolingly. It took every ounce of willpower for Teki not to wince. “You don’t look well—I’d hate for you to be coming down with something.”

Teki nodded some more as she stood up. She wanted to tell her that it was all right, she wasn’t getting sick, she didn’t have to worry, but she didn’t trust her voice.

She was halfway down the hall when a familiar voice called her name.

“Teki!” Teki turned to see Prince Loki rushing towards her across the corridor, raven hair tousled. He reached her panting, his emerald eyes overflowing with a wild kind of worry. “Are you all right? You haven’t been at dinner.”

She dropped her gaze to the floor again. “Yes, I’m fine, my prince.” Her tone was high, artificially cheerful. “I’ve just been a bit tired.”

It wasn’t that she was mad at Loki. The little prank in the lake had been just that—a prank. He hadn’t meant it to be mean or anything, and she believed that he was genuinely apologetic, but… a lot of things went wrong when he pretended to fall off the dock.

He was reaching out towards her, his hand stopping just shy of hers. “Can—can I do anything to help?” he asked.

“It’s fine, my prince,” she repeated. “I’m just going back to my rooms.”

“I could walk you back—”

“No, that won’t be necessary” Teki interjected. Her voice came out sharper than she intended. She hated the way he flinched. “Sorry,” she dropped to a whisper. “I’m just—it’s—”

“No, you don’t have to explain. I understand.” He bowed softly. “Can I expect to see you at dinner tonight?”

“I’m not sure. Probably.” She didn’t particularly want to go, but there was no way her mother would let her skip a third night in a row.

Loki’s expression was pained. For a moment, he looked like he was going to say something else, but then he shook his head. “I’m sorry, Teki.”

“It’s alright,” she murmured. She turned to make her way down the hall, still feeling his gaze on her back.

…

Everything hurt.

Teki groaned as she tried to roll over in bed, searching for a position that didn’t press against the bruises on her shoulders and down her back. She wished her mother would take her to the healers. But her mother was concerned that they were spending far too much time down at the healing ward—she never said so, but Teki could tell that she was worried they’d start looking into their family.

“If it’s still hurting a lot by the end of the week, I’ll take you,” she had promised.

Teki wasn’t sure if she was going to make it to the end of the week.

Her shoulder twitched when she moved the wrong way, and Teki hissed in pain. She wanted her mother’s painkiller drink. Her mother had made for her earlier, before they went to dinner, but Teki hadn’t drank the whole thing—she was too afraid of passing out in front of the royal family. She was fairly certain her mother had saved the rest of it, in liquor cabinet downstairs…

For a while, she laid on her side, trying to ignore the throbbing at the base of her neck. Don’t think about it. If she woke Osvald up rustling through a cabinet she wasn’t allowed access to, she’d be even worse off than she was now. It wasn’t worth the risk. But as the night dragged on in an agonizing crawl, no relief in sight, Teki found her resolve breaking.

She could be quiet.

Her heart was thudding as she peaked out through her cracked bedroom door. The hall was silent. Holding her breath, Teki crept out towards the stairs. History had taught her that the seventh step creaked if you placed your weight on the middle, so she was careful to hug the wall as she went down. She barely dared to breathe until she reached the bottom of the staircase and slipped into the sitting room.

The curtains on the other side were just barely cracked open, the slightest beam of moonlight cutting through the darkness and contorting the shadows of furniture and belongings in an ethereal glow. The cabinet loomed in the corner, glassy eyes watching her as she slunk past the table. Teki shuddered.

The doors were locked. That was all right—Teki knew her mother kept the key hidden away at the top of the cabinet. She wasn’t tall enough to reach it on her own, though, so she pulled one of the chairs away from the table to stand on. Her back screamed in pain, but she was careful to carry it high enough so that the legs wouldn’t drag on the floor. She groped blindly across the dusty shelf until her fingers landed on the little metal key.

Teki glanced over her shoulder as she stepped down from the chair. The apartment was still. Even so, she could feel her pulse pounding in her ears as she fumbled with the lock. Please don’t make any noise. It clicked open without issue.

The metallic glint of liquor bottles greeted her. Teki squinted through the dark. There should be a mug somewhere, but the pale moonlight revealed nothing.  Her heart sank. Her mother did keep the extra, didn’t she? She could’ve sworn she had. If she had done all this sneaking around for nothing…

Climbing back on to the chair, Teki ran her fingers down each shelf in a desperate search for the missing mug. There was a sinking feeling in her stomach, but she forced herself to ignore it. Maybe it had gotten pushed behind the bottles. She reached as a far as she could, but she found only glass.

Then her nails jammed against something metallic.

Teki cried out before she could stop herself. No! She clapped a hand over her mouth, anxiously eying the stairs. Only when several minutes had passed and her stepfather didn’t come pounding into the room did she exhale and turn back to the cabinet. Nursing her hand, she tried to make out what it was she had hit.

There seemed to be a small metal box hidden behind the liquor bottles. Teki frowned. What in the Norns? The meager light from the curtains wasn’t nearly enough to take a proper look. Tentatively, she slid the box from its resting place.

It was about the size of a large book, and heavy too—she could feel the contents sliding around inside as she turned it in her hands. There was a tiny silver lock embedded on the side. Her hands itched—the layer of grime engulfing the box screamed of neglect. How long had this thing been hidden away in here? Why had it been hidden away in the first place? Teki was confused.

She held the box to the light, hoping to get a better look. There seemed to something engraved on the top, perhaps a name of some sort, but the dust was so bad she couldn’t tell what it was. Probably “Áslaug,” or perhaps her grandfather’s name, “Ásvaldr.” Her mother still had many engraved pieces that had belonged to her grandfather. But then again, Teki wasn’t quite certain. The first letter didn’t look much like an “Á.” She rubbed at it with the skirt of her nightdress, her pain nearly forgotten in her curiosity. What could this be? What would her mother keep hidden from the rest of the family?

After a moment, she had cleaned it up enough to make out the lettering. She wasn’t sure what it was she was expecting to find, but there was a thrum in her hands as she held it to the light again. It took only a moment for her to recognize the name. She nearly dropped the whole thing on the wooden floor.

Steinn

This box belonged to Teki’s father.

#dances and daggers #loki x ofc #loki marvel #loki fanfic #dances and daggers chapter 5 #the aftermath #cozy writes

[snowdice]

Little Kestrel (Part 5)[Birds of Different Feathers Series]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Logan & Patton & Virgil (future Virgil/Patton but not in this story)

Characters:

Main: Logan, Patton, Virgil

Appear: Thomas

Mentioned: Janus

Summary:

It was supposed to be a quick job either way. Either Virgil would assassinate King Thomas of Prijaznia or he’d be caught and get executed. Yet, when Virgil gets the wrong bedroom and gets caught by Prince Logan and his future royal advisor, Patton, the job ends up getting way more complicated for the 14-year-old. He also ends up sleeping in a (actually pretty comfortable) closet for a few weeks…

Notes: Implied/referenced child abuse, assassination attempt, knives, torture mentioned, captivity, teenagers being really dumb

This is a prequel to Kill Dear. I wrote it 100 words at a time on my blog, but this is the edited version. If you want to see how it was crafted, look at the tag proofread stories.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Virgil sat as still as he could in the dark space he’d been put in. He could feel the warning tingle of the binding magic at his wrists telling him not to move too much or else. He was just lucky that they’d chosen to use metal instead of cloth to apply the potion and that he’d been unconscious until it dried. He knew from experience that there was no escaping the pain that type of potion brought until it dried no matter how still you were. Now, at least, if he didn’t try to struggle against his binding it wouldn’t hurt him. It sucked because all he wanted to do was move. He wanted to struggle and pull against the binding at his wrist, but he couldn’t. Even if it wouldn’t put him in crippling amounts of pain, he’d still not be able to get away.

So, instead he just shook. He was such a fuck up. He couldn’t even remember the right room and now he was going to die. No, he was probably going to be tortured and then he was going to die. His breath came quicker and quicker the longer he remained in the closet. He’d tried to murder their king. He’d come into their prince’s bedroom in the middle of the night wielding a knife. There was no way he wasn’t going to be made to suffer for that. It didn’t matter how gently the prince and his… person had treated him so far.

He heard the muffled sounds of people approaching the closet and curled into himself. Oh, god he was going to die. He had been breathing quickly, but now he couldn’t breathe at all. It felt like someone had poured tar into his lungs. The closet door opened, and he flinched, curled into a ball and choking on nothing.

“Hey, hey,” a familiar voice said. Patton, Virgil’s mind offered: the other guy with the prince. When Virgil managed to flick his eyes open, he saw Patton had gotten to his knees in front of him. He dully noted that the boy had reached out and touched his shoulder. “Oh sweetie, I’m sorry. Can you breathe for me?”

What was the point? He wondered, but after a few moments, he managed to suck in a couple of breaths.

When he managed to calm enough to look around, he noticed that instead of there being a bunch of castle guards standing around waiting to drag him off to some dungeon, it was just the prince and Patton again. He blinked up at them in confusion.

“There’s been a change of plans,” the prince explained.

“What?” Virgil asked dumbly. “What do you mean?”

“My father is going to be away for the next three weeks,” the prince said. “Considering you didn’t kill the guards and your only targets seems to be my father and perhaps myself, you are likely not a real danger to anyone if you escape and I’m willing to take the risk with myself. With that in mind, Patton and I have decided not to turn you in yet.”

Well what the hell did that mean? Was that good or bad? On one hand, it meant that he wouldn’t be executed yet, but what exactly did the prince want with him?

As Virgil began to freak out about the possibilities, the prince continued to speak, seemingly more to himself than to Virgil or Patton.

“We will need to figure out how to care for you in the interim. We’ll have to provide you with more food than just snacks as well as find you a place to sleep. At least one of us will have to be with you at all times, and with Father gone, I’ll have to attend to some royal duties. Luckily it isn’t strange for Patton to come into my quarters at will.” He considered Virgil with discerning eyes. “Also, your general health seems to be lacking, so I’ll have to account for preexisting conditions. First thing, first though. I imagine keeping you in those bracelets all the time would be impractical. We’ll need another solution, especially for sleep.”

Virgil did not like the sound of that. He assumed based on what the prince had done so far that he’d enact some sort of magical bondage. From Virgil’s experience, magical bondage ranged from unpleasant to legitimately agonizing.

“Patton, if you will watch him for the time being, I need to go work on a more precise binding potion then the one I’ve been using.”

“Sure,” Patton agreed, but the prince was wondering away before he’d even finished the word. Patton shook his head fondly before turning back to Virgil. “Wanna come out of the closet now?”

He really, really didn’t, but he was pretty sure he didn’t have a choice in the matter. He curled his legs into himself as much as he could and waited to be dragged out into the room, but he wasn’t touched.

“Okay,” Patton said. “That’s fine. It’s a pretty nice closet.” Virgil said nothing but did breathe a sigh of relief about being able to stay. It wasn’t very rational because in actuality he was no safer here than anywhere else in the room, but the closet felt more defensible even if they could drag him out of it whenever they wanted.

Patton seemed content to sit outside the closet and leave him in peace for the moment. A few minutes later Patton made a sound and Virgil looked over to see him yawn. He smiled when he saw Virgil watching. “It was a long night for all of us, I imagine,” he said. “Hmm… actually. Wait there.”

Like he could go anywhere else. He couldn’t get a good enough angle to see what Patton was doing, but he could here him moving around the room and rustling through a few things. He came back into view holding a comical number of pillows and blankets.

“Here,” Patton said. He offered Virgil one of the blankets and then seemed to remember that Virgil could not reach out to take it. “Hmm…” He spread out the blanket next to Virgil. “Do you mind if I touch you?”

“Why are you even asking?” Virgil asked. “You can do whatever you want with me.”

Patton frowned and Virgil scrunched into himself at the expression, but it lightened the next moment. “I know it’s a bit of a bad situation and you are technically a prisoner, but I don’t want to hurt you or make you feel bad,” Patton said.

Virgil didn’t know how to respond to that. There was no way that it wasn’t some sort of trick, but he didn’t dare outright say that he thought that.

“Can I touch you a bit?” Patton asked once again. “Just to help you get onto the blanket.”

“Sure,” Virgil agreed.

The other boy smiled sweetly and grabbed his wrists with gentle fingers. Virgil let his whole body follow Patton’s guidance until he was situated rather comfortably on an unbelievably soft blanket.

“Head,” Patton said, holding up a pillow. Virgil lifted his head slightly and the pillow was shoved underneath it.

Another blanket was settled over him the next. Patton was weird. “There you go!” Patton said. “Now you can take a nap.”

Virgil blinked up at him in confusion. That was… not happening. What exactly about this situation did Patton think was conducive to sleep?

“…Or rest comfortably at least,” Patton said after a moment. He arranged a pillow and blanket for himself and laid on his side, so he was facing Virgil. He yawned slightly again but didn’t close his eyes. They stared at each other for an uncomfortably long moment.

“What are we doing?” Virgil finally asked when he realized Patton was not planning to ever break the awkward silence.

“We’re resting,” Patton said, “and hanging out.”

“Hanging out?” Virgil asked.

“Mmm, yeah,” Patton said popping up onto his elbow to peer at him. “Let’s talk some! We can get to know each other.”

Virgil looked at him suspicious about where this was going. “Talk about what?” he asked, eyes narrowed.

Patton hummed a quiet tune and his fingers tapped against the side of his face as he wiggled a bit back and forth. “Do you like cats?”

“Cats?” Virgil asked. “Uh… sure?”

“I love cats,” Patton divulged. “There are a lot of cats in the castle. Not all of them like people very much, but I like to try to pet them! I even made up a game where I get points for every cat that lets me pet it. The grumpier they are, the more points I get!”

“You… try to pet wild cats?” Virgil asked.

“Uh huh!”

Virgil thought back to the few untamed cats he’d met in his life. “Don’t they… try to murder you.”

“Sometimes,” Patton said with a shrug. He moved his arm suddenly and Virgil startled, but he just rolled down his sleeve so Virgil could see a large, fairly fresh-looking scratch on his arm. “This one’s from Mr. Calico Man. He does not like his ears touched apparently, but he will let me give him chin scratchies!”

This boy was insane.

“I think I’ve pet every single cat in the castle at least once, except for Ghost Kitty.”

“Who is Ghost Kitty?”

“Oh, Ghost Kitty is the prettiest thing in the world,” Patton gushed. “She hangs out in the gardens a lot, but no one can get anywhere near her. She’s completely black and only started showing up around a year ago. I can’t even see her for more than 2 seconds at a time let alone try to pet her, but I will someday and on that day, I’ll get 1,000 points!”

“How many points are they usually?”

“For ones like Mittens and Cleo who I’ve known since they were babies, only 1. For Sandra it’s 5 since she can get a bit tetchy, but usually won’t run away. Lily Flower and Red Hot like to run away but won’t try to scratch me if I do catch them so they’re 10. Ones like Mr. Calico Man are worth 100.”

“So, you are going to try to pet a cat that is 10x more feral than the one that slashed your arm?”

“She’s so pretty!”

“You have no survival instincts whatsoever, do you?” Virgil asked.

Patton smiled wryly at him. “I apparently have a couple,” he said.

Virgil blinked at him and thought back, connecting the dots. Only Patton and the prince knew he was here, and the prince had been in front of him when he’d came into the room… “You were the one to knock me unconscious,” he concluded.

“I’d say sorry, but you were coming in here with the intention of hurting someone I care about,” Patton said with a shrug.

Right. Virgil had almost forgotten amongst his soft tone and gentle countenance that the man laying docilly next to him definitely hated his guts and would probably relish in whatever the prince had planned for him.

Virgil let his fists clench, but otherwise didn’t let onto his distress as Patton softly brought the conversation back to the previous topic and continued to ramble on about the different cats of the castle.

Want to read more? Click below!

Part 6

#sanders sides #logan sanders #patton sanders #character thomas #virgil sanders #adriana writes #little kestrel #birds of different feathers #implied/referenced child abuse #assassination attempt #knives #torture mentioned #captivity

[its-just-a-fayz]

what Discourse would pop up if there was a bigger gone fandom, do you think?

primarily gone would inevitably be dubbed as “problemetic” by a certain subset of the internet and would get attacked for having everything from underage drinking to gory murder scenes. these attacks would be leveraged at pretty much anyone who’s a fan lol. basically, the people who currently agonize over ao3 allowing problematic shit with warnings would come after this fandom if it got mainstream

then...some problems with the content that people make in regards to like fic and stuff, considering that this fandom already produces some pretty dark shit, it’s just so small that everyone stays in their lane. probably some sort of discourse with people woobifying like caine and drake (because people love to romanticize fucked up characters when they’re white men) and also i really hope people won’t ship them but like i know that they probably will

also people would either 1)grossly under appreciate the main female characters or 2)decide to hate one or more of them with their whole being (probably diana or astrid lbr)

there would likely be a sane corner of the fandom discussing actual problems with the canon and whatnot. also there would be some sort of discourse over casting no matter what. this is a no-win situation. if they cast adults we will all complain that it’s not true to the source material. if they cast kids we will complain that it takes too long to get new seasons and if they’re treated badly by the industry/the production company in any way there will be infinite discourse.

and if they cast well-known actors we’re fucked because the fandom will likely bypass the semi-normal medium-sized fandom phase where there’s decent fan content but no crazy drama and go straight from “tiny” to “large and horrible”

oh and if the writers and directors don’t handle the adult themes very carefully (no matter how casting goes) we’re going to complain. we will complain if they’re erased or toned down to sanitize the show and we will complain if they over-sexualize the actors or if they over-dramatize the hardships. lord i hope we do not harass them over social media but like...somebody will

and there’s the inevitable show fans vs book fans because it’s likely that some people will end up being hardcore purists of one or the other. hopefully we won’t get to the harry potter fandom level where people insist that “the books are better” and can list every inconsistency between canon and the tv show but that mostly depends on whether or not it’s good or not lol

that’s just my personal predictions! a lot of it depends on how the series is translated into a TV show, because fandom reactions depend a lot on how certain things are portrayed. yeah! hope that answers ur question

#gone series #gone tv