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brunchable · 2 years

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Thanks for Dinner (Halloween Oneshot) || Doctor Strange x Vampire!Reader.

Word Count: 4K Warning: Dark Themes, Violence and Gore, Mentions of blood, Vampire feeding on human. A/N: I dunno who wants to be tagged or not so I just tagged the people who I see in my notifs often hehe. Roughly based in 1983's "The Montesi Formula," a story in Doctor Strange #59-#62 where he briefly wiped out the existence of vampires. Vampire Strange Edit is mine ;)

Lilith a female demon dwelling in deserted places and seduces unsuspecting men. mother of vampires.

Vampire Vampires are a nocturnal race of humanoids who must feed on blood for sustenance. They have existed alongside humans for thousands of years and have had many conflicts with them throughout history.

tags: @goldencherriess @gaitwae @classicrebound @gwephen @thealleydog @lucimorningst4r @allie131313 @dragonqueen89 @xunquish-blog @d0ct0rstrangewife @pinkplayer14 @ironstrange1991 @mirikusashes @strangeobsessed @jyessaminereads @boop-le-snoot @pinkthick

“The most powerful among them supposedly have the ability to transform into anything, including a person, a bat, a wolf, or a cloud of mist. They may mimic any age range from very young to very elderly. Some people have the ability to control the weather and bring about gloom, storms, and deafening thunder. Uncertain as to their motivations, one thing is certain: they leave a wake of death, treating human life with the same disregard as we would a fly.”

“What are their weaknesses?” Stephen asked, moving the discussion forward. “How do we put an end to them?”

Wong nodded at these questions. “As with the stories of their strengths, there are likewise stories of their vulnerabilities.”

“Their powers are limited to the desolate hours of night. While they can walk about in broad daylight, they attempt to avoid the sun at all costs. It is during these bright hours that they are at their most vulnerable. They used to only be able to find rest by lying in the soil of their native land, but like us, they evolve. But still, they are born of something unholy, sacred objects, such as crucifixes, communion wafers, and baptismal waters, are poison to them. The same holds true for the wild rose—if a blossom is placed upon the tomb while the craven creature reposes, it will not be able to rise until that rose has expired utterly.”

“Can they be killed?” Stephen asks again, his voice low. Wong nodded.

“They can be destroyed only by decapitation and burned to ash, and then those ashes scattered to the four winds. Nothing short of this grisly solution will be effective—Lucky for us we don't have to do any of those. We have magic to get rid of them efficiently, especially the trouble makers. . . We go to Eastern Europe to find where the children of the night reside. . . we ambush them.”

You came from nowhere it seemed. One moment Stephen was alone, watching his stew heat over the campfire, and the next you were there, standing at the tree line.

Stephen jolted to his feet when he saw you, his magic appearing in hand before he even really thought to conjure it. Stephen aimed at you, but you did not seem particularly bothered by him doing so. You stood stock still, and Stephen wondered how long you had been there that way, watching him.

“What are you doing here?” He boomed. You did not react, only continued to stand silent, your eyes catching the orange flames. You stood with your arms wrapped around yourself, seemingly entranced by the glowing heat. You were dirty and ragged looking, but your pale skin beneath the dirt almost reflected the fire light.

Stephen looked warily around, keeping a sharp eye and ear for any movement in the woods around him. This would not be the first time he’d seen a group use a vulnerable woman for bait so they could rob someone blind, or worse. But no such group came.

You two remained in a standoff for another long moment, the fire crackling between them. Stephen, unsure what to do, began to shift uncomfortably before he lowered his weapon ever so slightly.

“Can I help you?” He called out in the same gruff voice, his breath coming out in clouds. You took a shaky breath and nodded almost imperceptibly in the vague light.

Stephe noticed then the way you were breathing shakily, and the way you were trembling in the cold, your slender shoulders bare beneath the ragged tank top you wore.

Stephen licked his chapped lips nervously as he looked around again, sensing no other presence than you. Against the gnawing feeling in his stomach, Stephen lowered his tao mandalas, his grimy hands shaking slightly. Your eyes were on him, locked onto every small movement Stephen made as he shifted uncomfortably.

“Are you cold?” He asked, a touch of concern in his voice despite his pounding heart.

You shook your head in the same half motion as before, and something about the movement unsettled Stephen. But you were vulnerable, he told himself, trying to shake away his instincts. Stephen eyed you, weighing the situation for a long while before hesitantly sitting, slow and unsure back on the log he’d dragged over. He waved for you to come to him, his guard still up for the moment.

You came to the fire gratefully, nearly running to reach out and warm your hands over the flames. Stephen watched you all the while, trying to make sense of the strange woman before him.

“So what hole did you crawl out of?” He asked the bedraggled girl after a few minutes of silence had passed.

Your shiny eyes flicked up to him, but made no sign that you were going to answer. You were beautiful beneath the grime, Stephen noted. Wide eyes and smooth porcelain skin. It was a dangerous way to look in this world.

“Not much of a talker I see,” he drifted, and carefully removed the hot can from the flames. He was beginning to relax slightly. She’s just a young woman, he told himself again, a skinny one at that.

“Tell you what. You tell me your name and we can have dinner,” he said, tapping the pot.

It was your turn to look at him with an untrusting eye now, as if he had been the one to turn up at your camp in the middle of the night. Still, you gathered your breath to speak, as if you had not done so in a long time.

“(Y/N),” you said shortly.

“Stephen,” he nodded, and they returned to their silence.

He fished a worn plate and a couple dirty utensils from his backpack then, giving them a cursory scrub with his fingers. He poured out a small plate for you and passed it around the fire to you, keeping the pot for himself. You took it in your slender fingers and sat, placing the plate in your lap.

You two ate in silence, or at least Stephen did. Something was… off about you. You only seemed to want to push the stew around your plate, though you surely had to be hungry.

“You sick or something?” Stephen said gruffly, wiping a bit of food from his beard. He would not allow himself to fall ill, especially by the fault of a stranger. Woman, child or not, he would make you leave.

“No I just don’t like to eat this kind of stuff usually,” you said in a low, almost melodic voice.

Stephen stopped mid-chew upon hearing you speak, surprised not only by the amount you had spoken, but by the stark contrast between your sweet voice and your rough appearance. He swallowed hard.

“Well that’s too bad,” Stephen said, dipping his spoon back into the can, feeling a bit annoyed at you. “You can’t be too picky in this life,” he said and continued to eat.

“I picked you,” you said quietly.

Stephen wrinkled his brow, looking confusedly into his stew, trying to decipher what you had said.

“You picked me? What does that mean?” He asked, looking up at you through the flames.

His heart nearly stopped at the sight of you. You were on your feet and grinning at him with a wide, sinister smile. Your teeth gleamed in the light, white as pearls, sharp as knives.

"I mean I chose you," you said in that sweet, unsettling voice, your eyes dark against the light.

Stephen nearly choked and reached for his cloak, cursing that he had glamoured it as a handkerchief. When he righted himself not a second later he nearly jumped from his skin. You were standing beside him, somehow having reached him in complete silence.

“What the hell..” was all he managed before you were on him. You knocked him backwards off the log with a force that betrayed your looks, and Stephen hit the ground with a powerful thump, his pot of stew spilling out beside him. The cloak of levitation flew to protect Stephen however you used your mind to stop it mid-air like it was freeze-framed.

“I have died a thousand deaths, felt the pain of each and every one of them, yet the only thought to have passed through my mind every second of every minute, every day of every year, was of this hunger . . . the sweet blood that would satisfy it and the wonder of whose it would be.” Stephen feels a sharp sting at his neck, and the dry, chapped lips of this former woman, this undead, as you suck the blood from his vein.

Stephen tries to pull away, he tries to beat his fists against your chest. He struggled and screamed, gripping your freezing arms and trying vainly to detach you from himself. But it was no use. There is nothing he can do; he is held fast in your merciless embrace, his body paralyzed, his mind swimming in a daze. Still, he fought hard, kicking and writhing while you bit into him like an animal.

With each pull of blood you took, his strength was sapped more, and he soon felt himself fading from consciousness. He fought until he could no more, and with one last useless push, his arms fell to the cold ground around him.

Only then did you release, and Stephen watched you through his blackening vision. You looked down at him with that unnerving smile of yours, your pearly teeth stained red now.

It was the last thing Stephen saw before drifting into a swirling blackness. He could not see, but he could still feel a burn like nothing he’d ever known before. His veins were lit on fire, his neck felt as though it was going to melt off him. He wanted to writhe in agony, to scream but couldn’t make a sound, couldn’t move. He had no body, but he could still feel the pain. There was nothing else.

Until there was your voice. It echoed around him, seemingly from nowhere and everywhere.

“Your body will be undergoing mutation. . . you’ll feel better soon,” you said, soft and lilting, you nipped your lips to draw your own blood before leaving a kiss to Stephen that will surely bring him back to life.

The man’s bones bowed and bent, then shattered and split inside his arms and his legs. They popped like bottles breaking underwater, albeit the intensity of the sound was subdued since the red flesh was wrapped so tightly around them. His tongue, dry and cracked, swelled to fill his mouth as his eyes rolled into the back of his head, the purple veins sewn through the sclerae thick as butcher’s twine. The man that used to be human screamed without sound and saw without sight as his body contorted into jagged shapes and terrible glyphs, dissecting itself in wave after wave of purest suffering. He lay where he’d fallen, in a patch of pine needles, a thin pink froth leaking from the corners of his drawn, bloodless lips. He clenched his teeth until his jaw hurt. He was dying. This was what dying felt like.

Alone, Stephen started to weep. A great yawning fissure opened up inside him, cold and infinite, and he clutched at that emptiness, at that nothing, pleading for it to eat him all up and take his pain away. He would throw himself into the dark if it meant he didn’t have to feel this anymore. He heard the echo before he heard the voice, its sibilant edges creeping up the sides of that frozen inner chasm, slipping out in whispers and tendrils like smoke. The words assembled themselves in strange patterns inside his head, the syllables all out of order, the letters and sounds reversed; but still he heard, and understood.

Welcome to my world, Doctor Strange. Stephen tried to scream again but found it impossible, his throat locked up against the pain, unable to let any but a small, throttled noise escape. Veins stood out on his forehead. Tendons bulged in his neck like cords. The agony was brilliant, blinding.

Your voice reached out to him again, like a beam of white sunlight knifing through an eternal darkness. Not long now. Stephen ground his teeth to powder, feeling new ones grow into the ragged sockets, pearly white and razor sharp. The sound of cracking bones filled the forest around him, but there was a humming there too—as if he could hear his body knitting itself back together, assembling into something stronger and more terrible than he’d ever imagined.

He did not believe it. He was sure he would be stuck there forever, suspended in his own personal Hell, doomed to suffer for eternity. He screamed in silence for a time that was impossible to judge. It could have been years for all he knew, writhing all the while.

He stayed there for what felt like forever, until by some miracle the pain began to fade. It left him slowly at first, and then all at once, until it was nothing but a memory. He felt the endless darkness quiver and begin to fall apart around him.

When it was over, the warped Stephen could smell blood in the air, rising from the earth with the humidity in great, coppery clouds.

He found himself on the ground where he had died either a moment or a lifetime ago, he could not be sure. The only thing that he was sure of was you peering down at him, your sharp mouth still drenched in red, that wicked grin still spread across your face. In the distance, he could see a dying light surrounded by darkness, frail and red. He was already so, so hungry. His stalk-like legs didn’t make a sound as they whisked him into the dark.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

His throat burned with thirst, hunger was like an intrusive thought: something unpleasant, unwelcome and involuntary for a newly turned vampire which invaded his mind again and again.

Pictures go in flashes in his head: torn skin, nails driven into the flesh, blood splashing on the ceiling, his face buried into the oozing, squishy depths smelling with something like a slaughterhouse… Thoughts invade his head, they are so intense they make him flee in terror. He can run faster than the wind, jump on the walls, climb the rooftops, soar like a ghost, but no matter how fast he runs, he can’t escape these pictures. These moving pictures in his head.

A chuckle of a stranger caused Stephen to stop his tracks and before he knew it he was at a cemetery. A man stumbled and caught himself from falling on the ground. He sobered considerably when he realised he'd almost spilled onto the road's pavement. To emphasise the seriousness of the situation, a black sedan whizzed by in the lane nearest him, travelling many miles above the speed limit. It blared its horn at him. He stayed on the damp grass and continued his trek home, out of range of the sprinklers.

He saw a broad driveway ahead that was used to access the cemetery during daylight hours. Now, it was blocked by a tall iron gate, bordered on either side by a large marble statue of a lion. Sentries, the mused.

As he passed the last sprinkler, he moved back onto the concrete sidewalk. He gazed up at one of the lions as he passed the gate and shuddered as it seemed to return his stare, and then he turned his head forward as he saw more sprinklers ahead.

Stephen was now crouching next to the trunk of a massive pine tree growing beside the paved entryway inside the gate. It was close enough to the fence for it to peer out beyond its black iron bars and see the man approaching. Excitement began to course through his body and he readied himself in intense anticipation.

Stephen had leaped from the branch in one single, powerful jump. He waited for only a few moments atop the fence and then soundlessly fell to the ground on the stranger's side of the fence, directly behind him. The tipsy man sensed something behind him the moment Stephen descended to the sidewalk. He whirled around in confusion and alarm. He was scared, and his mind craved to know what danger had seemingly fallen from the sky.

A fog begins to collect then, rising from the still erupting earth like some ungodly steam. First it gathers only around the man, but then it spreads out from him, growing wider in a concentric circle configuration, fanning out until it covers the entire graveyard and begins to wrap around it in some kind of embrace.

Then he spotted Stephen’s full body silhouette, by now, he was panicking. His hands were trembling and his heart was pounding as he started to jog. After a while, when nothing more happened, the man slowed down to a walk. Just as he thought maybe he'd imagined those things. Suddenly, there was a chuckle from behind him.

He turned around to see a tall man smirking at him. He had long, jet black hair and, he was horrified to see, dangerous, blood red eyes.

“I'm sorry but you shouldn’t have stopped running.” Stephen advised. He cocked his head to the side and studied the man.

"Fuck off man!" He whirled around in the other direction and ran as fast as he could.

The man looked back to see where Stephen was and saw no one. He thought he had lost him but as he turned around, there Stephen stood, about three metres in front of him. The man swiftly turned to the left and sprinted through the cemetery. He ran for the cover of the trees and looked around when he got there. Stephen was gone again, but the man was still wary. Suddenly an ice-cold hand gripped his shoulder and pushed him into the tree.

Stephen slammed the man's face against the trunk of the tree, crushing the man's nose that it broke and blood dripped everywhere. Stephen spun him around to face him and pushed his back into the tree. The man looked up at Stephen and saw a hungry glint in his eye.

“Please let me go!” He pleaded. Stephen didn’t care, the scent of blood was all too consuming. Instead he opened his mouth to reveal two sharp, white fangs. The man screamed and Stephen grabbed his hair and pulled the man's head back, exposing his neck. Stephen then leaned in, the man cried out for help as agonising pain punctured his carotids.

Stephen's first victim took a deep, rib-cracking breath and howled out, "HELP! SOMEBODY PLEASE."

There was nothing but silence to greet his cries.

Stephen groaned as his thirst was quenched while the man began to limp. What remained of his humanity stopped him from sucking the man dry. Stephen stepped back when he regained his senses but it was mostly guilt.

He ran back to the man and applied pressure on his neck to stop the bleeding, "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry."

A sweet amused laugh rang into Stephen’s ears, "I admire your self control for a new born, Doctor."

A thin mist comes forth from the ground a few yards away and curls into the air, spinning for a brief second before growing solid and taking the form of a woman with a beauty he has never seen before

"You." Almost instantly Stephen had his bloodied hands latched around your throat, squeezing your ineffective windpipe with an iron grip while he smashed you on the ground. You had to admit to yourself that you felt your insides clenched at the sheer power you witnessed flowing through his frame.

Now that both of you are staring eye to eye, Stephen noticed that you looked completely different from before. You looked cleaner, more presentable. . . blessed with god-like beauty.

"Strangle me all you want, I have no need to breathe because I'm dead." You smile while you grip onto his wrist, bucking your pelvis up to meet his, trying to seduce him.

"You will pay for what you have done to me!" Stephen screamed at your face and attempting to kill you with a spell especially for vampires, but he hesitated.

You smirked, "Go on. Kill me." You seductively emphasised the word kill with your tongue, "Just like how you're wiping out all of my kind."

Stephen tried to cast his spell on you, only for it to fail. He tried again and again only for the spell to fail each time, "What?"

"You can keep killing other vampires, but you can't kill your maker, whether you want to or not. . . But I can kill you." Your smile broadens as wrath fills his features, "I figured that I'll be on the top of your kill list. Thought I should beat you to it."

"I will find a way to kill you."

"Sure." You pushed him off and he flew metres away from you. His expression was some-where between snarl and sneer when he sat up.

"Come on Strange! KILL ME." He flinched from your bellow, hesitated, glamoured up. Your eyes met. His eyes widened with surprise.

Suddenly you lurch at Stephen, grabbing him by the lapels, spinning him and slamming him into the mausoleum wall causing bricks to disassemble and fall.

With a look of pain Stephen pushes you away breaking your grip and retaliating with a flurry of punches. You duck and weave but the final punch connects with a sickening crunch causing you to momentarily lose your footing. As you fall you kick Stephen's legs away and springs back to your feet as Stephen crashes through headstones. He growled at his frustration that a young woman was beating him to a fight but then again, you were probably centuries old.

You move with great speed toward him, stamping your foot down trying to crush Stephen, causing him to scramble backwards, then placing his foot into your stomach, forcing you back across the graveyard.

As you haul yourself up you brace yourself for Stephen, who was in a fit of rage, he rushes toward you again, arms outstretched.

You can't out-react a newborn vampire any more than you out-run the fastest man. But you can anticipate. You stepped into the charge, raising an arm as if for a feeble block. Then you fell back, slapped down, a leg rising. Stephen ran on to it, swan-dived across you, struck the head stones hard.

"Give up, Doctor and I might teach you our ways." You teleported in front of him as he slumped against a headstone, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, "You are repulsed with what you've become, you don't want to repeat the hunts but if you do that, you'll become an actual monster."

"I wouldn't have to go through this if you hadn't turned me."

"One must do what it takes to survive, my sweet." You bent, and your tongue swept away his vampire blood across his wound on the side of his lip. Stephen couldn't move, he couldn't speak.

The worst part about it was that what you just did felt good. It felt possessive and immortal, he found himself no longer wanting to kill you.

"What did you just do to me?" Stephen blamed you for his sudden urge of desires towards you.

"I healed you." You said, as if it made you less so.

"I didn't ask for your help." He snapped.

"No, but you enjoyed it." You laughed seeing him snarl at you once more, only inches from him, your burning red eyes fixed on him, "Anger suits you, I like it—but alas, I'm done here, I just wanted to make sure you don’t cause much chaos. If you ever need me, just centre your thoughts on me and I'll find you. We're blood bound now."

You got up and patted your newest creation on the head—he was probably the first to despise you, “Oh and thanks for dinner.”

Bonus: Vampire Strange full size photo

#stephen strange x reader #stephen strange x you #doctor strange #stephen strange #stephen strange imagine #doctor strange imagine #dr stephen strange #doctor strange x you #doctor strange x reader #stephen strange fanfiction #doctor strange fanfic #mcu doctor strange #Spotify

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tarnishedxknight · 8 months

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{aw tyvm! I’ve been super inspired for the fairytale au with our favorite quartet lately, so I’ll probably send some stuff in for that soon! unfortunately im currently very sick and miserable :( }

Basch, Ashe, and Noah, what modern fairytales do you associate yourselves with? What fairytales existed in Ivalice?

__________

{ Alright! But take your time, especially if you’re under the weather. There’s never any rush for anything, and honestly, I am so behind on replies on this blog that I have more than enough to do for weeks hahaha. }

Basch, Ashe, and Noah, what modern fairytales do you associate yourselves with?

Ashe: “I suppose Snow White and the Seven Dwarves. Not that I identify with Snow White, we’ve very little in common personality-wise, but the basic premise of a princess being driven from her home and into hiding, gathering a group of friends who want to help her, and eventually wanting to return to save her kingdom from the evil that has gripped it… that speaks to me. I know there have been many versions of that tale, but the basic story is similar to mine.”

Noah: “Have you ever heard of one called The Shadow? It is about a man who cannot be free of his shadow, it follows him everywhere, and eventually it begins meddling in his life. It saps his energy, it steals his interests, his bride, his health… and those around him begin to not be able to distinguish between him and his shadow. To the point of the shadow completely usurping him by the end of the story and living his life, claiming that he was the real person of the two all along. Some of that story reminds me of Basch. He is as my shadow which everyone thinks is identical to me but better, that has done nothing but meddle in my life.”

Basch: “The Shadow speaks to me as well, but for a different reason. If it is a story of relinquishing one’s identity, I have certainly experienced that. If it is one of using one’s face and words against them, to take or ruin one’s reputation, then I have experienced that as well. But if anything, it teaches that appearance and words are often the sum total of one’s public identity, while actions and intentions make up one’s private identity. It may be easy for others to be fooled by an identical face or moving words, but eventually, always, one’s true nature will emerge.”

What fairytales existed in Ivalice?

Ashe: “There was a fairytale told to me when I was very young about the sun falling in love with the ocean. They were fascinated by each other’s differences, but those differences kept them apart. The deep ocean was far too cold and dark for the sun, and the scorching desert sands were inhospitable to the ocean and all the creatures she safely harbored. They were forced to go their separate ways, with the expansive deserts of the Estersand forever stretching toward but never quite meeting the beaches that bound Dalmasca on either side. But their love was not to be denied, and so, over the centuries, the ocean crept from those shores inland, toward her love in secrecy, deep beneath the sands where it was cool enough for her to tread. Finally, she had reached him, with her cool waters buried beneath the sands he warmed so well. A part of her was left there, so that the sun would never be lonely again. And that is why there is a massive, natural groundwater store beneath Rabanastre to this day.”

Noah: “What about changelings? Oh, that was such a beloved story in the country in which I was born. So beloved that they were willing to sacrifice innocent children to avoid the consequences of it. The people there twisted the original story of the changeling, that of a fairy child who stole away the human one and took its place, wreaking havoc on the lives of those in the child’s family. The story was twisted to explain the existence of twins. There aren’t really any twins at all, the people said, only children and their demon counterparts who will slowly drain them and kill them, becoming victorious over them and gaining all the nurturing and resources that would have belonged to the human child. So when twins were born, the people arbitrarily said the firstborn was the true child, and the second, the demon. As you can imagine, this resulted in many unfortunate secondborn twins being eliminated due to the superstition. How fortunate for me that my mother was Archadian and not Landisian, or I might have been one of them.

Basch: “Aside from tales of rare, magical creatures in the desert, or those of the Occuria, I haven’t much experience with fairy tales. I hear stories here and there from others, but I have not had the time to read such tales myself. Regrettably, what my brother has said of twins in Landis was true, and I thank whatever forces of man or gods that kept him alive in the face of such superstitious ignorance.”

#main muse: basch #side muse: ashelia #alt muse: noah #tw: child harm

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cheeseykingspackerreview · 1 year

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As a #Packers fan of technically 4 regimes, my experience level with the team has spanned 3 decades. In those three decades, I have watched Dan (MagikMan) Makowski replaced by Favre. Favre was replaced by Rodgers and now Rodgers to Love. The world of football is an ever changing revolving door, and anything can happen on the gridiron at any given time. A star is born from the ashes of another stars waining light. Realistically, players can't play forever, and the new must replace the old . I have had the pleasure and been spoiled by two hall of fame quarterbacks over the past 20-something years. Two Superbowls and, in my opinion, should have been more, but hey, we could be browns fans, right 🤣. We all want to continue to see that play from our quarterback position. Love appears to have most of the intangibles to be great with some fine tuning and experience we should have another decade of quarterback play to watch and enjoy. From here, I will blog to break down not only the players but the coaches as well in each game. I am starting two games in so playing from behind in the fourth quarter with a two minute drill to bullet a Favre pass to Antonio Freeman or a Hail Mary from Rodgers to Roger's Let's see if the game winner is on the leg of Mason Crosby or, better yet, Longwell. Hope yall enjoy the journey, which is always a rollercoaster ride, so buckle up, hold on to your 🧀 head, and enjoy the ride.

#packers #green bay packers

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thecreaturecodex · 3 years

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Hodag

Image © Rodd Umlauf, accessed at LitHub here

[I hear you saying, “there’s already a hodag in Pathfinder! It’s been around since Kingmaker!” This is true, but it’s my blog and I can do what I want. This is another example of an “If I Ran the Zoo” monster, where I have an Opinion. Namely, that Pathfinder’s hodag isn’t hodag-y enough. The monster, like many Fearsome Critter adjacent monsters, does have a somewhat variable appearance. But the scaly, spiked, reptilian hodag in Pathfinder isn’t very much like the original Rhineland, WI version, as masterminded by civic minded hoaxer Eugene Shepard.

Not so say I haven’t incorporated other bits of lore from other sources for my version. My hodag’s origin is based off of the lore from The Hodag and Other Tales of the Logging Camps that they are born from the ashes of burned oxen, and I took the taste for porcupines from William T. Cox. Of course, since there’s tons of weird and wild fearsome critters about, there’s definitely room for both this monster and the official Pathfinder hodag in your games. Just call one of them a whangdoodle, gyascutus or kangakee, or any other ill-defined Fearsome Critter name.]

Hodag CR 6 N Magical Beast This shaggy creature is covered in a greasy coat of gray-green fur, and stinks like burnt feathers. It has a pair of curving horns, tusks in its mouth, clawed feet and a row of spines running down its back.

Hodags are avengers of the lumberwoods, created through magic in order to protect animals and plants. Hodags do not reproduce sexually; instead they are reincarnated from an animal killed through abuse or neglect by humanoids. A hodag can speak with animals, and uses this ability to find cruel poachers, those that torture animals or loggers who cut down trees unsustainably. These people they hunt and kill. A hodag is typically friendly with druids in their territory, but distrust most other humanoids and have a tendency to assume the worst of them.

A hodag will launch itself into combat with fervor, attacking with its many natural weapons and trusting to its magical defenses to protect itself from attack. A creature carrying a magic weapon and capable of harming it is likely to become its target if attacking a group. Hodags are omnivorous, with a fondness for turtles, porcupines and other well-defended fare. They need lots of calcium to support their horns and spikes, and so can be found chewing on bones or even limestone.

Because of their rarity, their monstrous appearance and their active targeting of humanoids, hodags tend to be legendary in regions where they dwell. Many outsiders think hodags are nothing but fiction, which is reinforced by hucksters using the name to gussy up taxidermy hoaxes or carnival sideshows. In some areas, the word “hodag” is used for any belligerent monstrous predator, regardless of shape, form or behavior. True hodags’ tears crystallize into pearl-like semiprecious stones, and the beasts dislike the juice of lemons or other citrus.

Hodag CR 6 XP 2,400 N Medium magical beast Init +3; Senses darkvision 60 ft., low-light vision, Perception +6, scent Aura stench (10 ft., Fort DC 16, 1 minute) Defense AC 17, touch 12, flat-footed 15 (+2 Dex, +5 natural) hp 68 (8d10+16) Fort +8, Ref +8, Will +5 DR 10/magic; Resist cold 10 Offense Speed 30 ft. Melee bite +11 (1d6+3), 2 claws +11 (1d4+3), gore +11 (1d6+3), tail slap +9 (2d4+1) Special Attacks blood rage, thagomizer Statistics Str 16, Dex 14, Con 15, Int 7, Wis 12, Cha 10 Base Atk +8; CMB +11; CMD 23 (27 vs. trip) Feats Improved Iron Will, Iron Will, Multiattack, Power Attack Skills Climb +12, Perception +6, Stealth +8, Swim +12; Racial Modifiers +4 Climb, +4 Swim Languages Sylvan (cannot speak), speak with animals SQ trackless Ecology Environment cold and temperate forests Organization solitary, pair or vendetta (3-6) Treasure incidental Special Abilities Speak With Animals (Su) A hodag can speak with animals, as the spell, at will as a supernatural ability. A hodag can speak with another creature that casts speak with animals to communicate. Thagomizer (Ex) A hodag’s tail slap attack deals piercing and bludgeoning damage. Trackless (Ex) A hodag takes special care to sweep its tail behind it, increasing the DC to track a hodag by 10.

#hodag #hoax #fearsome critters #pathfinder 1e #pathfinder rpg #if i ran the zoo

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saidrolav · 2 years

Note

thank you!!!!!

i apologize if i just overwhelmed you with a shit ton of words, my fanfictions are worse tbh.

i'd like to get matched up with one of the bois from stranger things. all you need to know about my appearance is that i'm short, curvy (especially busty), i have short hair, and i wear glasses.

my friends say i'm chaotic but pretty much am the human embodiment of snow white. i genuinely love horror, however some stuff is just hella lame to me (looks at friday the 13th), but i have a soft spot for 50s creature features. i've seen every episode and movie of star trek tos at least once, irl i'm a die hard trekkie. if you've ever met one of those people who have catch phrases, i fall under that category, my most often said phrases include "groovy", "bruh", "f", "it would've cost you literally nothing to not do that", "thanks, i hate it", "guess i'll die", "look at him and tell me there's a god", among other things.

this one time someone said i was born in the wrong generation after going on a small tangent about how i love 60s mod fashion. the music i prefer is from the 1920s to the very early 1980s, but mainly 60s and 70s music (excluding the beatles, fleetwood mac, aerosmith, and some other stuff that's just played too much on the radio). alice cooper is one of the most underrated musicians of all time, fight me on this. this one time i absolutely horrified someone by telling them i've seen apocalypse now over 10 times (it's a wonderful movie).

i personally relate to like 58% of pink floyd's the wall (it's disturbing, i know). most characters i relate to are tragic in some way, like pink from the wall or ash from evil dead. i once again apologize for practically giving you my autobiography

i've been told by multiple people i'm very intelligent, but, uh, the same people (my friends lmao) say i'm a walking meme. 50% of the time my thoughts are my internal monologue, and the other 50% of the time i have music stuck in my head. idk what else to put, but you can look at my blog if this isn't enough detail lol, no worries!

Hiii you're welcome!! It was really great to read :D Thank you for asking a 🐧! I ship you with..

Dustin Henderson!

I just got the same vibe from the Eddie/Dustin relationship but with a romantic side 👀👀 I mean ya just need a little bit of Dustin Henderson in your life to make you laugh at stupid jokes!

You both have SO much in common and a big part of that is due to the 50% chaotic and the 50% nerd side which turns out to be 100% and 100% when you're both together 😭

Dustin would definitly call you an old person when you talk to him about old bands and the 60s but he's secretly hella interested in it 💃

You guys would definitly watch Star Trek and Apocalypse Now anytime you can bc you're both nerds 🤓

#stranger things #stranger things season 1 #stranger things season 2 #stranger things season 3 #stranger things season 4 #stranger things season four #dustin henderson #dustin henderson x reader #dustin henderson x you #henderson #stranger things ships #🐧

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wangxiangiftexchange · 4 years

Text

Lunar New Year Gift for vedrividia!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****

Transverse

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

Needless to say, he was desperate for a drink.

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

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

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

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

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

He really needed that drink.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The guy bristled.

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

His crutch shot up before the full sentence was out.

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

"Hey! What's your problem?!"

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

"You alright there, girl?"

His gut clenched at the words.

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

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

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

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

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

That explained the ache.

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

After all, he had done this to himself.

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

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

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

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

He remembered falling.

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

It had felt nothing like now.

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

Only the failure felt the same, funny that.

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

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

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

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

"Wei Ying?"

Wei Ying froze.

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

"Lan Zhan?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wondered if Lan Zhan still could see that too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So wonderful and kind and warm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was a pause.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Different," Lan Zhan finished.

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

Lan Zhan looked at him for a long moment.

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

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

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

Always so straight to the point.

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

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

"I…"

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

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

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

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

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

Their eyes met. A heartbeat of silence.

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

Wei Ying had not expected that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wei Ying's brain was white static.

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

His whole body wanted to recoil with shock.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wei Ying picked up on the question immediately.

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

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

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

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

Wei Ying couldn't help but smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lan Zhan just stared, wordlessly.

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

Honestly, when wasn't it?

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

Wait. Pause. Rewind.

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

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

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

"Mn."

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

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

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

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

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

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

For a while Wei Ying just looked at him.

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

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

"I missed you too."

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

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

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

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

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

If Lan Zhan wanted, that was.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Baba, baba, you're home!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"A-Yuan!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#vedrividia #wangxianLNY21 #*LNYfic21 #*LNYgifts21

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sojourner-between-worlds · 3 years

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Why the Idea of Disabled Jesus is Heretical

(Or, at best, a gross misinterpretation of Scripture. But really, it's heresy.)

@aspiringautistic asked on this post from my side blog: "what would be so harmful if there were people who perceived jesus as disabled?" and I am happy to oblige in expanding on those thoughts (though since the answer has little to do with autism and everything to do with Christianity in general, I thought it more appropriate to answer here on main). In case you hadn't prior seen the linked post and don't feel like clicking through, the short of it is this: the Gospel Coalition recently published an article in which the author, Andrew Abernethy, argued that Jesus was disabled. I'm here to tell you where he went wrong.

Hold on to your hats, folks. This is a long post.

(All Scripture quotations taken from the ESV translation.)

1. Disabilities are a result of the Fall. Before I get into anything else, I need to make this point abundantly clear. While being disabled does not dictate worth and it is not an indication of personal sin, it is still not how we are meant to be. Adam and Eve were created in the likeness of God, and were, therefore, created without sin or any of the things that came with sin. They were perfect -- at least until they disobeyed (Genesis 2-3). Sometimes people ask "if there is a God, why do bad things happen?" and the answer is because we live in a sin-cursed world. Disabilities, illness, and death itself exist because Adam and Eve sinned. (Romans 5:12: "Therefore, just as sin came into the world through one man, and death through sin, and so death spread to all men because all sinned.")

2. Old Testament laws regarding sacrifices. The Old Testament Law is very specific when talking about what makes an acceptable sacrifice. There are a lot of different types (everything from bulls to grain), but the relevant ones to this discussion are sacrifices made for the atonement of sins.

There are two categories of sacrifices made for sin: sin offerings made for unintentional sins, and burnt offerings made for sin in general. Burnt offerings and sin offerings both ranged from bulls to doves (or flour for the latter, if nothing else could be afforded) and sin offerings varied depending on both the person and the sin as well (Leviticus 1, 4-5). But all of the animals sacrificed had two instructions about them in common: that they be "without blemish", and that the sinner must place their hand on the head of the animal. The difference between the two was that a sin offering was required as an act of repentance and a burnt offering was voluntary. In the case of burnt offerings, the requirements for bulls and sheep or goats are laid out very plainly: "a male without blemish" (1:3, 10).

In addition to all of this, once a year, on the Day of Atonement, one bull and two male goats would be sacrificed for the people to remove their sins (Leviticus 16; only one goat was killed; the other was sent away, symbolizing the removal of sin). Again, these animals had to be without blemish, just as all the others. The person offering the sacrifice was to place their hand on the head of the animal. The action of placing their hand was symbolic: it was a way of showing that the person's sin was being "transferred" to the animal so that the animal could take the person's place and receive the punishment for sin instead. "Without blemish" meant that it couldn't be sickly or diseased or crippled in any way. It had to be as close to perfect as was possible in a sin-cursed world because anything less than perfect had to die for its own imperfections.

Because these sacrifices could never be truly perfect, they had to be repeated, but all of this was pointing to the time when Jesus would come as the final sacrifice made for the sins of the world.

3. Jesus as the final sacrifice. If you know anything about the Christian faith, you know that this is at the heart of everything we believe. Without Jesus, there is no gospel. So here's why that matters to this discussion:

"But when Christ appeared as a high priest of the good things that have come, then through the greater and more perfect tent (not made with hands, that is, not of this creation) he entered once for all into the holy places, not by means of the blood of goats and calves but by the means of his own blood, thus securing an eternal redemption. For if the blood of goats and bulls, and the sprinkling of defiled persons with the ashes of a heifer, sanctify for the purification of the flesh, how much more will the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself without blemish to God, purify our conscience from dead works to serve the living God" (Hebrews 9:11-14, emphasis mine).

This passage in Hebrews (as well as verses preceding and following) are all about how Christ made atonement for us with His death, and how His voluntary sacrifice of Himself is superior to the OT sacrifices.

So allow me to direct your attention to the bolded phrase above: “offered himself without blemish”. If this sounds familiar, it should, since I talked extensively about this in the point above. “Without blemish” in Leviticus meant to be not crippled or disfigured or ill in any way. If this same phrase is also applied to Christ, then the same must be true. If the OT sacrifices were required to be so, why would the same not apply to the Final Sacrifice that ended the need for sacrifices to be made? It wouldn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense. Not when the OT sacrifices were pointing towards Jesus; not when we have a God Who created order and purpose. Jesus had to be perfect to take our places -- and that includes being free of deformities that are a result of a sin-cursed world.

4. Isaiah 53, misinterpreted at best. This was one of Mr Abernethy’s main points, and it’s one he got disastrously wrong by reading what he wanted into Scripture (eisegesis) rather than letting Scripture say what it says (exegesis). See, the thing about interpreting prophecy is that you have to be careful how you do it, and, just like all Scripture, make sure it’s within the proper context.

In the case of this chapter of Isaiah, the wider context is that it’s a prediction of Jesus’ suffering on earth and His death. One of the verses he tries to pass off about Jesus being ugly or deformed is the second part of verse 3: “and as one from whom men hide their faces, he was despised, and we esteemed him not.” The problem is, this verse and one directly after it are not about his physical appearance at all. They are about emotions and grief: “He was despised and rejected by men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief; and as one whom men hide their faces, he was despised, and we esteemed him not. Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteem him stricken, smitten by God and afflicted” (vs. 3-4, emphasis mine). This is about Him bearing our burdens and our rejection of Him anyway. This is a parallel that continues as the chapter moves forward.

There is only one physical description in this passage that is not related to His death, and it’s the second part of verse 2: “he had no form or majesty that we should look at him, and no beauty that we should desire him.” And this is the only point that Mr Abernethy got correct: Jesus wasn’t the Hollywood definition of drop-dead gorgeous. He looked like your average Joe. In order to not be conventionally beautiful/handsome, that does not dictate that a person must be deformed or “ugly” in any way. The only thing this verse means is that he didn’t stand out from the crowd with His looks. He didn’t look the way they thought their Savior should. That’s it. That’s all it means.

5. Tradition isn't truth (no matter how much anyone wants it to be). I have to admit, adding in a section about a so-called “tradition” that’s nigh on impossible to find anything about was brilliant. The average person wouldn’t even bother looking in the first place, and most people who would look, would give up after five or ten minutes of searching. I spent an hour and found exactly nothing on this “tradition” of Jesus being a leper. So you just... have to take Abernethy’s word for it.

Aside from not being able to find anything on it myself, the argument he uses is faulty anyway. Because tradition doesn’t equal truth, in the first place, especially a tradition that didn’t pop up until the 16th century. There’s no basis for something that apparently wasn’t known until 1400 years after His death.

Aside from that, he calls on Jerome’s Latin translation of Isaiah 53:4 that translates a phrase as “he was like a leper.” First of all, “like a leper” does not mean He actually was a leper. C’mon, man. Any fifth grader in America could tell you that similes are used for comparisons and aren’t literal.

Second of all, if you’d like to make a point, it’s a much better idea to go back to the Hebrew manuscripts rather than to any one translation. Now, I don’t know Hebrew myself, but I do have access to a little thing called the Internet, where you can find a plethora of commentaries from people who do know Hebrew. For this particular problem, I went to Albert Barne’s Notes on the Whole Bible. I’m not going to put his whole notes here (because there’s a lot), but if you’d like to read all of his notes, you can search the verse on studylight.org and use the ‘jump to’ feature under the verse to find him, but the bottom line of his notes on it are this: Jesus wasn’t literally being rightfully punished like the Jews would incorrectly think; leprosy was used here as an example because it was seen as a divine punishment for sin. It has nothing to do with literal leprosy at all.

And to top off this cake of incorrectness... well, has he even read the New Testament? If Jesus had had leprosy, He: a. wouldn’t have been allowed in temples or synagogues, b. wouldn’t have been allowed in towns period, and c. wouldn’t have been nailed to a cross because no one would have risked touching Him in order to do so. Abernethy shouldn’t have even brought this up in his argument, it’s so far off base, and no artist in the 16th century should have painted a painting of a leprous Jesus nailed to the cross because, quite simply, it never would have happened.

6. Jesus relates to us -- but not in the ways Mr Abernethy says. While he never cites any Scripture on this, I’m pretty sure I know where this idea came from. In his article, he states that in order for Jesus to have related to the disabled, He had to be disabled Himself. Since He relates to us, then He must have been disabled.

First of all, the logical fallacy of this statement is this: if He must be disabled to relate to the disabled, then can the abled still relate to Him? The answer to that, of course, would be no, because if He wasn’t abled then He can’t relate to the abled in the same way that Abernethy asserts that He can’t relate to the disabled without being disabled. It’s one of those things where you can’t have it both ways. Another example of how this logic falls short is pregnancy. Can Jesus not relate to pregnant people because He Himself was never in such a state? And the rabbit hole just gets deeper from there: Can He relate specifically to the blind when He was never blind? How about the deaf or hard of hearing? Or people missing limbs, either from birth or through amputation? All disabilities are different, and experiencing one doesn’t mean you understand them all, so by Abernethy’s logic, Jesus had to experience all of them. Do you see how ridiculous Abernethy’s logic here is yet?

Second of all, Abernethy is, once again, taking Scripture entirely out of context -- if, indeed, he got this idea from Scripture at all. Hebrews 4:15 says, “For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin.” The problem with trying to use this verse as proof is, obviously, that it’s talking about temptations (Matthew 4:1-11), not lived experiences. If he was, again, referencing Isaiah 53 -- well, that doesn’t work either, because, again, that is in reference to His death and the sins He bore for us on the cross. The fact of the matter is, there are no Scriptures to back up the idea that He had to personally experience everything we do in order for Him to understand our pain and suffering.

The source of this heresy is the same as many heresies, actually: People want to make Jesus into something He's not. I listened to a podcast recently where the host was talking about a couple of heretics, and while I don't remember the heretic's name, he said that to him, Jesus was Latinx because he himself is Latinx. Except that, ya know, Jesus was a Middle-Eastern Jew. It's the same fallacy to say that Jesus was disabled. Everyone wants Jesus -- and God, for that matter -- to be something He's not, rather than for Him to be what Scripture tells us He is, but you can't force God into the box you've carved for Him. He is who He is, no matter how much you want Him to be something different.

There's no getting around it: to make Him out to be anything other than what Scripture tells us He is -- especially when it contradicts Scripture, is heresy.

#christianity #for the record please ask questions #I'm happy to clarify #also don't just take MY word for any of this either #I am but a fallible human myself #and it's good to question what other people say #sorry this answer took so long #I wanted to be thorough

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dabis-azure-songstress · 5 years

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Naga Bakugo x Reader P1

Hi, guys! I decided to write something very cute and fun, to begin with. Later parts of this may have more adult content besides just a bit of swearing, but for now, it’s safe for everyone. I would love to dedicate this to my dear friend @strawberryandspiceandchocolate because Spice is such an amazing friend and, without them, I feel like this story would not have been born. This was definitely written with Spice in mind. Thank you, dear! Let me know how I did for my first time writing Bakugo! I’ll definitely write more if you all love it! His quirk will also make an appearance in later parts if I continue to write more parts. @monst I still have your question for Bakugo on my main blog and will notify you of the next part when it comes!

Pairing: Bakugo (Naga) x Reader

Warnings: Just cuteness, some swearing

The rain forest humidity was high as usual and causing your hair to frizz and volumize. You sighed heavily in a bit of irritation. After a few weeks of enduring this continuously and no further progression of your research in cryptozoology, the irritation was thoroughly justified. You released a deep sigh and slowly lowered yourself onto the closest tree root after checking for crawlies and critters. Pulling your notebook from your backpack, you stood once again and started reviewing folklore from the villagers.

You continued forward, mind lost and pondering over your notes. Your legs brushed against foliage and your feet caught on a few snags every now and then, causing you to stumble slightly, but nothing major that required your eyes tearing from the paper in front of you. Suddenly your breath was knocked out of you as you tumbled over something particularly large…and cold? You glanced at your spiral notebook, a few feet away, and then down at the gigantic cylindrical object, you had tumbled on. And it was covered in breathtaking, iridescent green scales and silver underbelly?

Your face paled as you drew the horrifying conclusion. THAT was a HUGE snake! Its tail was far larger than any anaconda belly marks you had seen before. “Oi, you damn nerd! Watch where you’re going! Touch my tail again and I’ll light your ass up like a damn firework on the fourth of July!” You were pale as a sheet as your mind caught up with the voice and muscular movements beneath you. “I-I’m sorry! Y-your tail!?”

“Yeah, my tail, idiot.” You looked for the moving voice before the tail began to draw you slowly and tightly into its coils as they turned you upside down and held you. Your eyes landed on a spikey ash-haired blonde with red glimmering eyes, slightly tanned skin, and a slim muscular build that faded into part of the gigantic tail you had taken your tumble over. “Y-you’re a-a…” You stumbled over your words terribly.

The blonde male seemed to grow more aggravated and gave you a small shake with his tail. “Is “naga” the word you are looking for, nerd?” You nodded fiercely. He calmed slightly and narrowed his crimson eyes. “Sssoo, what exactly are you doing this far out? Did you get yourself lost? What’s so interesting in that notebook of yours?” You cleared your throat before you even attempted to answer him and tried to calm yourself.

“I’m a researcher. I study cryptozoology and I collected notes and stories from the villagers around here.” Maybe he wouldn’t eat you if he was interested in the conversation you held with him. He was extremely shiny, so maybe he had just shed. “So, did you come here to hunt me? You’re in for a whole lot of pain if you did.” He bared his teeth in a sharp sneer, even his eyes mocking you.

“No, no! I promise! I didn’t! I mean, I was looking for evidence, but I definitely wasn’t going to attempt to harm you or anything!” His eyes suddenly weren’t boring into yours anymore and he slowly turned you right-side-up again. The blood rushing away from your head made you extremely lightheaded and you were glad his coils held you at the time. “You ok, nerd?” You nodded very sluggishly. His coils loosened gently, enough to let your arms out to rest on the vibrant tail that held you.

A suddenly loud growl caught the both of you off guard. “Ugh…” the male groaned softly. “So damn hungry.” You began to panic again and started to flail before he tightened his coils again. “Hey! Chill! I won’t eat you! Unlike normal snakes, we try to avoid you guys at all costs. Now…a nice juicy monkey or something and we’re talking an amazing meal.” You could practically see his eyes glittering ecstatically and his fangs starting to push to the front of his mouth in the space for his canines.

“Well, I don’t know about helping you hunt…but I do have some lunch, and I don’t mind sharing if you’ll answer some questions for me.” He smiled at you brightly, and you nearly choked on your breath. “Human food works, too. You’ve got a deal, nerd. And ONLY because I just shed, got it!? I’m still really tired and hunting takes so much energy.” You nodded quickly in compliance. Best not to try to argue with him.

----

That is how you ended up having lunch with a very special naga. You were sat carefully on his coils with him lounged lazily on his stomach, both eating slowly. “So, can I ask you some questions, please?” His eyes moved from the chicken he was eating and onto you. “Sure. That was the deal.” You grabbed your notebook and pencil quickly. “So, what’s your name?”

“Bakugo Katsuki.”

“Katsuki…What type of naga are you if there are types?”

“Hmm, I guess the closest normal relative I have would be an eyelash viper. Like our normal cousins, we’re venomous and non-venomous, as well.”

You were happily scribbling notes from the answers he gave you when you caught him still watching softly. “Is it really that interesting for you to meet someone like me?”

“Of course it is! I mean, I could go off on an entire tangent about how cryptozoologists think things exist and some of them possibly really don’t, but I’ve actually freaking met you! Do you know how COOL you are!?” Katsuki’s cheeks began to burn and turn a vibrant red. “You’re weird, nerd…Thanks…You’re kind of cute all absorbed in your work like that. And don’t go posting any of this on the internet or some crap! This stays just between us!”

“Of course.” You laughed. “Do you do the tongue thing like normal snakes do to smell?”

“Have I done that at all since you started talking to me!? The hell!? I can smell just fine without the blllehhleehhlehh thing!” You nearly died in laughter. It was a nice start to a very special friendship.

#bakugo #bakugo katsuki #first attempt #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha fanfiction #bnha fluff

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reve-de-dragon · 4 years

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The Prince Lindworm

To start off this blog, I’ll share one of my favorite tales : The one of the Prince Lindworm.

Text taken from World of Tales.

Once upon a time, there was a fine young King who was married to the loveliest of Queens. They were exceedingly happy, all but for one thing—they had no children. And this often made them both sad, because the Queen wanted a dear little child to play with, and the King wanted an heir to the kingdom.

One day the Queen went out for a walk by herself, and she met an ugly old woman. The old woman was just like a witch: but she was a nice kind of witch, not the cantankerous sort. She said, “Why do you look so doleful, pretty lady?” “It’s no use my telling you,” answered the Queen, “nobody in the world can help me.” “Oh, you never know,” said the old woman. “Just you let me hear what your trouble is, and maybe I can put things right.”

“My dear woman, how can you?” said the Queen: and she told her, “The King and I have no children: that’s why I am so distressed.” “Well, you needn’t be,” said the old witch. “I can set that right in a twinkling, if only you will do exactly as I tell you. Listen. To-night, at sunset, take a little drinking-cup with two ears” (that is, handles), “and put it bottom upwards on the ground in the north-west corner of your garden. Then go and lift it up to-morrow morning at sunrise, and you will find two roses underneath it, one red and one white. If you eat the red rose, a little boy will be born to you: if you eat the white rose, a little girl will be sent. But, whatever you do, you mustn’t eat both the roses, or you’ll be sorry,—that I warn you! Only one: remember that!” “Thank you a thousand times,” said the Queen, “this is good news indeed!” And she wanted to give the old woman her gold ring; but the old woman wouldn’t take it.

So the Queen went home and did as she had been told: and next morning at sunrise she stole out into the garden and lifted up the little drinking-cup. She was surprised, for indeed she had hardly expected to see anything. But there were the two roses underneath it, one red and one white. And now she was dreadfully puzzled, for she did not know which to choose. “If I choose the red one,” she thought, “and I have a little boy, he may grow up and go to the wars and get killed. But if I choose the white one, and have a little girl, she will stay at home awhile with us, but later on she will get married and go away and leave us. So, whichever it is, we may be left with no child after all.”

However, at last she decided on the white rose, and she ate it. And it tasted so sweet, that she took and ate the red one too: without ever remembering the old woman’s solemn warning.

Some time after this, the King went away to the wars: and while he was still away, the Queen became the mother of twins. One was a lovely baby-boy, and the other was a Lindworm, or Serpent. She was terribly frightened when she saw the Lindworm, but he wriggled away out of the room, and nobody seemed to have seen him but herself: so that she thought it must have been a dream. The baby Prince was so beautiful and so healthy, the Queen was full of joy: and likewise, as you may suppose, was the King when he came home and found his son and heir. Not a word was said by anyone about the Lindworm: only the Queen thought about it now and then.

Many days and years passed by, and the baby grew up into a handsome young Prince, and it was time that he got married. The King sent him off to visit foreign kingdoms, in the Royal coach, with six white horses, to look for a Princess grand enough to be his wife. But at the very first cross-roads, the way was stopped by an enormous Lindworm, enough to frighten the bravest. He lay in the middle of the road with a great wide open mouth, and cried, “A bride for me before a bride for you!” Then the Prince made the coach turn round and try another road: but it was all no use. For, at the first cross-ways, there lay the Lindworm again, crying out, “A bride for me before a bride for you!” So the Prince had to turn back home again to the Castle, and give up his visits to the foreign kingdoms. And his mother, the Queen, had to confess that what the Lindworm said was true. For he was really the eldest of her twins: and so he ought to have a wedding first.

There seemed nothing for it but to find a bride for the Lindworm, if his younger brother, the Prince, were to be married at all. So the King wrote to a distant country, and asked for a Princess to marry his son (but, of course, he didn’t say which son), and presently a Princess arrived. But she wasn’t allowed to see her bridegroom until he stood by her side in the great hall and was married to her, and then, of course, it was too late for her to say she wouldn’t have him. But next morning the Princess had disappeared. The Lindworm lay sleeping all alone: and it was quite plain that he had eaten her.

A little while after, the Prince decided that he might now go journeying again in search of a Princess. And off he drove in the Royal chariot with the six white horses. But at the first cross-ways, there lay the Lindworm, crying with his great wide open mouth, “A bride for me before a bride for you!” So the carriage tried another road, and the same thing happened, and they had to turn back again this time, just as formerly. And the King wrote to several foreign countries, to know if anyone would marry his son. At last another Princess arrived, this time from a very far distant land. And, of course, she was not allowed to see her future husband before the wedding took place,—and then, lo and behold! it was the Lindworm who stood at her side. And next morning the Princess had disappeared: and the Lindworm lay sleeping all alone; and it was quite clear that he had eaten her.

By and by the Prince started on his quest for the third time: and at the first cross-roads there lay the Lindworm with his great wide open mouth, demanding a bride as before. And the Prince went straight back to the castle, and told the King: “You must find another bride for my elder brother.”

“I don’t know where I am to find her,” said the King, “I have already made enemies of two great Kings who sent their daughters here as brides: and I have no notion how I can obtain a third lady. People are beginning to say strange things, and I am sure no Princess will dare to come.”

Now, down in a little cottage near a wood, there lived the King’s shepherd, an old man with his only daughter. And the King came one day and said to him, “Will you give me your daughter to marry my son the Lindworm? And I will make you rich for the rest of your life.”—“No, sire,” said the shepherd, “that I cannot do. She is my only child, and I want her to take care of me when I am old. Besides, if the Lindworm would not spare two beautiful Princesses, he won’t spare her either. He will just gobble her up: and she is much too good for such a fate.”

But the King wouldn’t take “No” for an answer: and at last the old man had to give in.

Well, when the old shepherd told his daughter that she was to be Prince Lindworm’s bride, she was utterly in despair. She went out into the woods, crying and wringing her hands and bewailing her hard fate. And while she wandered to and fro, an old witch-woman suddenly appeared out of a big hollow oak-tree, and asked her, “Why do you look so doleful, pretty lass?” The shepherd-girl said, “It’s no use my telling you, for nobody in the world can help me.”—“Oh, you never know,” said the old woman. “Just you let me hear what your trouble is, and maybe I can put things right.”—“Ah, how can you?” said the girl, “For I am to be married to the King’s eldest son, who is a Lindworm. He has already married two beautiful Princesses, and devoured them: and he will eat me too! No wonder I am distressed.”

“Well, you needn’t be,” said the witch-woman. “All that can be set right in a twinkling: if only you will do exactly as I tell you.” So the girl said she would.

“Listen, then,” said the old woman. “After the marriage ceremony is over, and when it is time for you to retire to rest, you must ask to be dressed in ten snow-white shifts. And you must then ask for a tub full of lye,” (that is, washing water prepared with wood-ashes) “and a tub full of fresh milk, and as many whips as a boy can carry in his arms,—and have all these brought into your bed-chamber. Then, when the Lindworm tells you to shed a shift, do you bid him slough a skin. And when all his skins are off, you must dip the whips in the lye and whip him; next, you must wash him in the fresh milk; and, lastly, you must take him and hold him in your arms, if it’s only for one moment.”

“The last is the worst notion—ugh!” said the shepherd’s daughter, and she shuddered at the thought of holding the cold, slimy, scaly Lindworm.

“Do just as I have said, and all will go well,” said the old woman. Then she disappeared again in the oak-tree.

When the wedding-day arrived, the girl was fetched in the Royal chariot with the six white horses, and taken to the castle to be decked as a bride. And she asked for ten snow-white shifts to be brought her, and the tub of lye, and the tub of milk, and as many whips as a boy could carry in his arms. The ladies and courtiers in the castle thought, of course, that this was some bit of peasant superstition, all rubbish and nonsense. But the King said, “Let her have whatever she asks for.” She was then arrayed in the most wonderful robes, and looked the loveliest of brides. She was led to the hall where the wedding ceremony was to take place, and she saw the Lindworm for the first time as he came in and stood by her side. So they were married, and a great wedding-feast was held, a banquet fit for the son of a king.

When the feast was over, the bridegroom and bride were conducted to their apartment, with music, and torches, and a great procession. As soon as the door was shut, the Lindworm turned to her and said, “Fair maiden, shed a shift!” The shepherd’s daughter answered him, “Prince Lindworm, slough a skin!”—“No one has ever dared tell me to do that before!” said he.—“But I command you to do it now!” said she. Then he began to moan and wriggle: and in a few minutes a long snake-skin lay upon the floor beside him. The girl drew off her first shift, and spread it on top of the skin.

The Lindworm said again to her, “Fair maiden, shed a shift.”

The shepherd’s daughter answered him, “Prince Lindworm, slough a skin.”

“No one has ever dared tell me to do that before,” said he.—“But I command you to do it now,” said she. Then with groans and moans he cast off the second skin: and she covered it with her second shift. The Lindworm said for the third time, “Fair maiden, shed a shift.” The shepherd’s daughter answered him again, “Prince Lindworm, slough a skin.”—“No one has ever dared tell me to do that before,” said he, and his little eyes rolled furiously. But the girl was not afraid, and once more she commanded him to do as she bade.

And so this went on until nine Lindworm skins were lying on the floor, each of them covered with a snow-white shift. And there was nothing left of the Lindworm but a huge thick mass, most horrible to see. Then the girl seized the whips, dipped them in the lye, and whipped him as hard as ever she could. Next, she bathed him all over in the fresh milk. Lastly, she dragged him on to the bed and put her arms round him. And she fell fast asleep that very moment.

Next morning very early, the King and the courtiers came and peeped in through the keyhole. They wanted to know what had become of the girl, but none of them dared enter the room. However, in the end, growing bolder, they opened the door a tiny bit. And there they saw the girl, all fresh and rosy, and beside her lay—no Lindworm, but the handsomest prince that any one could wish to see.

The King ran out and fetched the Queen: and after that, there were such rejoicings in the castle as never were known before or since. The wedding took place all over again, much finer than the first, with festivals and banquets and merrymakings for days and weeks. No bride was ever so beloved by a King and Queen as this peasant maid from the shepherd’s cottage. There was no end to their love and their kindness towards her: because, by her sense and her calmness and her courage, she had saved their son, Prince Lindworm.

Something about this tale had always stood out to me as a child. Perhaps it was that I, too, felt like a creature encased in another’s skin, but reversed from the myth, or simply that for once, the dragon did not die.

I had always remember it as less violent than it really is, perhaps out of fondness for the lindwurm.

#folklore #dragonkin #dragon #dracodex

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r3b3lgrrrrrrrl · 5 years

Text

A LunaTic and her Gunn (Part 100 Xs2) "Day 26: Seattle and Old Side Chicks

@creatureofthen1ght-v3 @crystalbaby12 @5sosfam1dlover @backoftheroomandnotbelonging @rosefilledhearts-blog

They're playing The Show Box tonight.

"SEATTLE!!!!" Colson shouts as Sex Drive fades out. "How you doin' tonight?" He asks to their roars. "We got a special show lined up just for you... You ready to FUCKING DO THIS!?!" He screams.

The nightclub rattles in excitement around him. Leading off with Habits, they flow into Breaking News 2. Slim and Colson rocking across the stage together as lights and smoke flash and flow around them. El Diablo follows with LOCO, GTS and Wild Boy. Colson jumping into the crowd twice already.

Luna joins him OnStage for an overly sexual performance of Bad Things. Unable to keep their hands off each other. Throwing their matching tattooed arms up into the air as they dance and bop around, singing to one another. Colson drives the crowd wild when he grabs Luna as she heads OffStage. Spinning her around to dip and kiss her passionately before allowing her to go as he shouts her name to the crowd.

"Oooh... This Motherfucker..." Luna thinks. Pussy dripping for Colson as she walks SideStage.

Meeting up with Sam, Dom and The Ash's, Sam hands her joint as Ashleigh passes her their usual bottle of Jameson. The five friends laugh and sing together as The Boys run through Trap Paris, Candy, The Break Up and See My Tears. Dom dipping off at some point to prepare.

Strumming the opening chords to I Think I'm Okay, Colson shouts "I WANT THE ROOF BLOWN OFF THIS MOTHERFUCKER TONIGHT!!!!"

🎼Watch me//Take a good thing//And fuck it all up//In one night//Catch me//I'm the one//On the run//Away from//The headlights//No sleep//Up all week// Wasting time//With people//I don't like

I THINK//SOMETHING'S//FUCKING//WRONG WITH ME🎶

The audience sings with him so loudly they almost drown him out like alcohol. The energy is INSANE.

🎶I HURT MYSELF//SOMETIMES//IS THAT TO SCARY//FOR YOU🎶

Chanting the lyrics with Colson as if they are their own personal mantra. The line still kills Luna's insides for Colson. Hearing it shouted along with a few thousand people is intense. Her eyes well up as her heart hurts for every disenfranchised individual in her presence who personally relates to it. Self harm is a serious and scary thing.

The building EXPLODES when Dom comes running onto the stage. Surprised and ecstatic over his appearance. He slams through the chorus with Colson before stepping up solo.

🎶Roll me up//And smoke me love//We could fly//Into the night🎶

You can barely hear Dom over the sea of voices singing with him. It's incredible to watch. The sound of unity so powerful it could give anyone goosebumps.

Both Boys are off. Surfing on top of the thousands of people willing to hold them up. Not needing to sing because the room is doing it for them.

Making their way back to the stage, they round out the song together. Singing GoodNight at different times at different ranges.

Luna has to have Ashleigh check her make up as she wipes the tears from her cheeks. She needs to get her shit together to go back on by the time The Boys finish. The reaction to Colson and Dom's song being so raw, Luna couldn't help but find herself to be emotional. For as hardcore as Colson is, Luna knows he is truly the sweetest, most lonely boy ever. Sometimes it makes her so sad for him, wanting nothing more than to protect him from himself. How do you do that though?

"SEEEATOOOLLL!!!!!" Dom shouts "WE LOFE YOOOU!!!"

"FUCK YEAH, WE DO!!" Colson shouts with him as they stand side by side.

The Girls are moving around behind them. Setting up OnStage. They've decided to twist the fuck outta Seattle. Rook is still sat behind his kit as Baze hands Sam a bass guitar. Luna picking up the electric she had rehearsed with earlier as Tech places microphones and stands down for both her and Ashley.

"So, much that we cooked up this little rendition just for YOU!! KICK IT!!" Colson calls as him and Dom step aside.

Everyone within ear shot loses their fucking minds the minute Luna hits those first famous chords to Smells Like Teen Spirit. Rook and Sam knocking in hard behind her. Luna's warm voice snakes around the opening lyrics. She stays on beat but her voice is smoother and more trained than Cobain's while still holding his same haunting drawl.

🎼Loooad up on guns//Briiing your friends//It's fun to lose//And toooo pretend//She's over bored//And seeelf assured//Oooh no//I know//A dirty word🎶

Flipping the script, The Girls are covering Nirvana. Ashley stepping in as her and Luna croon together. Harmonizing like an intriguing mix of handcuffs and silk.

🎶Hello//Hello//Hello//Hoooow low//Hello//Hello//Hello//Hoooow low//Hello//Hello//Hello//Hoooow low//Hello//Hello//Hello🎶

Rook, Sam and Luna ripping into their instruments as Ashley let's her voice fly loose. Raw. Not caring to be perfect as she belts the lyrics fiercely.

🎶With the liiiights out//It's less dangerousss//Here we arrre nooow//Entertain uuuus//I feel stuuuupid//And contagiouuusss//Here we aaaare now//Entertain usss//A mulattooo//An albinooo//A mosquitooo//My libidooo//YEAH🎶

Luna slams into her guitar as her vocals slip in again. Matching up with Ashley as they use a flat tone.

🎶HEY//YAY🎶

Colson, Dom and Baze are setting themselves up SideStage. They're gonna follow them with a Bikini Kill song before The Girls fully finish.

The stage is shaking from the mosh pit happening just yards away from The Girl's feet. Luna and Ashley grin at each other. Regardless of personal feelings, it's a great fucking song. Luna hitting those significant chords on her guitar again as her voice wraps itself throughout the lyrics.

🎶I'm worse//Aaat what//I dooo best//And fooor this gift//I feeeeel blessed//Our littlllle group//Has alllways beeeeen//And alwaaaays wiiiill//Until the ennnnd🎶

Luna and Ashley hum through the Hellos and How Lows before Ashley comes in to wail through the chorus again. Her voice the perfect balance of clarity and rasp. Instruments floating around her impeccably.

🎶With the liiiights out//It's less dangerousss//Here we are nooow//Entertain uuuus//I feel stuuuupid//And contagiouuusss//Here we aaaare now//Entertain usss//A mulattooo//An albinooo//A mosquitooo//My libidooo//YEAH🎶

Rook, Sam and Luna pound through the slight jam session flawlessly. You can hear Luna's guitar whine out Hello continuously before Rook rumbles them down. Luna taking her place back at the microphone.

🎶And I fooorget//Just whyyyy I taste//Oh yeeeah//I guess//It maaakes me smile//I found it haaaard//It's hard to find//Oh well//Whaaateeverr//Neeverrrmiiiind🎶

Ashley and Luna harmonizing as they repeat Hellos and How Lows again before Ashley slays the chorus once more. Sending the audience into another physical frenzy along with Rook's drums. You can't hear neither Ashley nor Luna over the crowd as they scream over and over about A Denial with them.

Instead of fading out, Rook picks up his pace to a faster punk beat. It's kinda funny as Baze switches out with Sam. Dom with Ashley and Colson with Luna.

Colson snatching a quick kiss off of Luna before his deep voice alters the punk girl anthem. It's sound is harder and less poppy than the one The Girl's covered.

🎼That girl//Thinks she's the queeeeen//Of the neighborhood//She's gooot//The hottest trike//In toowwwn//That girl//She holds her head//Up sooo high//I think I wanna//Be her//Booyfriend//Yeah🎶

During rehearsal, Luna had shown Dom and Colson where to change up certain lyrics to fit the swap.... And also because she's a fucking cunt.

Dom hits the mic, nailing the chorus. Being in Seattle, most of the crowd is singing along with him.

🎶Rebel girrrrl//Rebel girrrrl//Rebel girrrrl//You are the queeeeen//Of my worrrld//Rebel girrrl//Rebel girrrl//I know I wanna//Take you home//I wanna take off//Your clothes//UNH🎶

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

Bikini Kill is one of Seattle's few surviving bands. Tobi Vale being the first girl Kurt Cobain was ever mesmerized by, crushing on her hard. As one of The Original Riot Grls, she had no time for the quiet blue eyed boy. The band's lead singer Kathleen Hanna making fun of him one night, writing Kurt Loves Teen Spirit on his bedroom wall in Olympia. It was a direct reference to Tobi's deodorant. His most famous hit being inspired by a girl who couldn't be bothered by him. How ironic. Courtney Love HATES Tobi Vale. Courtney Love HATES Smells Like Teen Spirit. Luna HATES Courtney Love. Being more of a Pixies fan, Luna never cared much for Nirvana. Even before his daughter became one of her bestfriends. Luna's lack of interest in her family being a great source of comfort to Frances. Her hatred for Courtney being born and growing naturally. Watching first hand how The Mother's selfish and self destructive behavior had affected Frannie through the long years of their friendship. Pissing Luna off more and more with every missteps. Playing the 90s theme song with Colson covering Rebel Girl beside it, IN Seattle, is the ultimate FUCK YOU to Courtney Love from Luna. It's also probably the ONLY time she's ever secretly hoped her performance will pop up on YouTube.

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

Making the song his along with Dom as Rook, Baze and AJ slaughter the quick paced, bass driven, punk tune with them. Colson's deep voice penetrates the next set of lyrics as he slams into his guitar.

🎶When she taaalks//I hear the revolution//In her hiiiips//There's revolution//When she waaaalks//The revolution's coming//In her kiiiiss//I taste the revolutiooonnnn🎶

Colson screams before Dom hits the chorus again. Each with their own Rebel Girl in mind throughout the song.

🎶Rebel girrrrl//Rebel girrrrl//Rebel girrrrl//You are the queeeeen//Of my worrrld//Rebel girrrl//Rebel girrrl//I know I wanna//Take you home//I wanna take off//Your clothes//UNH🎶

The Boys flow into the gnarly jam session. Rook's drums throbbing as AJ shreds relentlessly. If there's one thing Luna's learned tonight, it is that, THIS motherfucker can RIP.

Colson comes in again, leathery voice shouting out the strong, female positive lyrics. Luna did this on purpose. Switching up the two bands, she wanted the gender flip. Just like Nightmare. It's an important symbolism of feminism and equality. Being smart and lucky enough to fall in love with a man who has a daughter and shares her views.

Never a quiet man. Colson is known for not holding back from stepping up or speaking out for what he believes in. Standing solidly beside Luna, pushing for A Change, they WHOLE heartily believe it can happen. Or will die continuing to fight for Casie and her generation's sake.

🎶That girl//Thinks she's//The queeeen//Of the neighborhoooood//I got newwsss//For you//SHE IISSS//They say//She's a dyke//But I know//She iiissss//MY GIRLFRIEND//YEAH🎶

Colson and Dom come in together. As Colson slashes his guitar, he looks over at his friend. On instinct Dom turns to catch his eye. Grinning, they shout the chorus together. Both of their Rebel Girls standing behind them ready to take over.

🎶Rebel girrrrl//Rebel girrrrl//Rebel girrrrl//You are the queeeeen//Of my worrrld//Rebel girrrl//Rebel girrrl//I know I wanna//Take you home//I wanna take off//Your clothes//UNH🎶

Shifting slightly to the side, each boy steps from the mic. Releasing it to their partner. Colson's guitar tearing it's way up and down Luna's spine from behind. Without missing a beat Luna and Ashley take the last hook together. Female Empowerment being their overall Life Goal.

🎶Love you//Like a sister//Always//Soul sister//Rebel girl//Come and be//My best friend//Will you Rebel girl//I really like you//I really wanna be//Your bestfriend//Be my reeeeebel grrrrrrrllll🎶

As Rook and Baze fade them out, the room is uncontrollable. Seattle LOVES it's hometown hero's. Courtney Love does not fit into that category.

"That was killer..." Colson says lowly in Luna's ear as he kisses the back of her neck.

With her body flush, it's her duty to take the mic right now. Nuzzling her head back into him, she drops a low I Love You before hitting it.

"SEATTLE!!!!!" She shouts as she tries to calm her insides. "HOW ARE YOU?" She asks to their cheers. "We've got one more cover.... How many of you know of Andrew Wood and Mother Love Bone?" She asks.

Only half the nightclub answers her. She expected this.

"A little lesson in music history..." She smiles.

The crowd hoots out for knowledge. Loving the interaction as Luna strolls around the stage. Talking with her hands as she tells the story.

"Andrew Wood and Mother Love Bone were the pioneers of the Seattle scene." This is heard by a louder cheer and a grin on her face. "We lost him unfortunately... In '89. The remaining band took up Eddie Vedder and became Pearl Jam."

A mixed reaction fills the atmosphere. Some knowing the story. Some caught off guard.

"Hold on... Hold on... Hold on...it goes deeper." Luna shushes them.

She squats down on the middle of the stage. Continuing her story as Tech sets up behind her.

"Andrew Wood was Chris Cornell's bestfriend and roommate at the time of his death." This draws a sadness from the crowd. "I know, friends.... I know..." She sadly comforts them. "That's why were gonna play this next diddy. It is in honor of Andrew. Originally sang by Chris and Eddie.... I KNOW you'll know it when you hear it.... So when you do... You FUCKING SING!!!" Luna shouts to their erupting agreements.

Standing up, Luna grabs the electric she's been using. She begins to slowly pick the soft opening chords with Rook, Sam and Baze behind her.

By their reaction this time, Colson is pretty sure they've lost the roof. Watching his sea of family, he loves the way his woman speaks with them.

In Luna's opinion, Chris Cornell had the greatest voice of his generation. In her mind, there's more pressure to nail this upcoming song more than the prior. It's personal and the social relevance meaning more to her than the Top 40 Hit.

Luna starts them off, making everyone around them ooze with sentiment. Her strong, layered voice a smart match to represent Cornell.

🎼Well//I don't mind//Steealing bread//From the moooouths//Of decadeeeence//Hmmmmm//But I can't feeeeed//On the powerless//When my cup's//Already overfiiiiilled//Yeeeah//Mhhhm🎶

Luna's vocal range is both bold and delicate enough to hold it's own against the already emotional song. Allowing a tinge of pain to slip through her as she sings. The crowd joining her.

🎶But//It's on the taaable//The fiiire's cooookin'//And they're farmin' babies//The slaves are all woooorkinnn'//Blood is on the taaable//The moooouths//Are all chooookinnn'//But I'm goin' hungryyyyy//Yeeeeah🎶

Rook, Baze, Sam and Luna flip through the chords of the slightly dark melody. Colson's deep voice perfect as he steps up to the mic and takes on Eddie's verse. His family helping him as they sing along still.

🎶I don't mind//Stealing bread//From the mouths//Of decaaaaadence//But I can't feed//On the powerless//When my cup's alreadyyy//Overfiiiilllledd//Oh ohhhh//But//It's on the table//The fire is cookinnnnn'//And they're farmin' babies//The slaves are all wooorrrkin'//Annnnd//It's on the table//Their mouths//Are all choookinnnn'//But I'm going hungry🎶

Dom backs Colson. Wailing. AJ matches Sam with a second rhythm guitar as Rook bangs into his kit. Baze nailing the bass as Luna's fingers fly over the lead.

🎶I'm goin' hungrrryyy🎶

Ashley pops in with the next verse as Luna backs her. The crowd flowing with Luna and Ashley at different times.

🎶I'm goin' hungrryy🎶

🎶Oooohhh//I'm huuuungrrryyy AYYY🎶

Colson and Dom coming back in together at different times. All four voices stacking themselves on top of each other's along with The Band. As the crowd continues to sing along with them, it's anything short of amazing.

🎶I'm goin' hungrryy🎶

🎶I'm goin' hungrraaayyy🎶

🎶I'm goin' hugrrriiyyy🎶

🎶I'm goin' huuuungrAyAyAyyyy🎶

Dom and Ashley shift their voices together to continue singing about Goin' Hungry. Their vocals following together beautifully as the instruments rage behind them along with the voices of the audience.

Luna stepping in to take over Cornell's major part. Voice lacing around the lyrics of Not Minding Stealing Bread as she belts them. Ashley and Dom still behind her repeating separately how they're Goin' Hungry.

Colson's deep voice slides in to add another chapter of theft to the story as he sings beside Luna. Picking up the rhythm, Dom and Ashley drop out. Leaving Colson and Luna to play off each other's voices as they sing about Goin' Hungry.

🎶Oooohh//I'M GOIN HUNGRAAAAY AY YEEE🎶

Luna bellows alone one last time as Rook and her guitar lead them out. The Show Box BURSTS with hoots, claps and cheers as they end.

Grinning, Colson grabs Luna. As her guitar hits his chest hard, he doesn't care. With all the electricity flowing through him, he can't feel it. Only her lips. Breaking away from her, he turns to address the crowd.

"YO!!! GIVE IT UP AGAIN FOR MY GIRL, THAT BROOKLYN BITCH AND MY HOMIES YOUNGBLUD AND HALSEY!!!" Colson shouts to the volcanic club.

As Ashley and Dom head OffStage, Luna grabs her mic again. Always pushing.

"WE NEED CHAAAANGE!!!" She screams to the unshakable crowds agreement.

"She's so fucking cool...." Colson can't help the smile on his face as he watches Luna.

Grabbing one more kiss, Luna bounces OffStage. Meeting up with Ashley, Dom, Sam and Ashleigh, the three are still zipping with energy. Sam promptly passing Luna a joint as Ashleigh shouts that They Were Fucking INCREDIBLE. Luna can't help but beam as she holds the joint between her lips and grabs for a five people hug. Friendship really is a BEAUTIFUL thing.

The show's not even halfway through. Hollywood Whore kicking in next before Rap Devil and Until I Die. Switching spots with Rook as they cover Shout At The Devil.

It's honestly Luna's favorite cover of The Band's. Not even because of the song. As much as she loves Colson, she adores Rook and loves to see him shine the way he does when he takes the mic. His performance is so on point, you just KNOW he was raised with music in his blood. Even if you're unaware of where he hails from.

Still running, Colson grabs his guitar for his cover of Ocean Eyes. Catching Luna's as he sings. Both of their hearts swelling for the other over the reason he covered it.

Next comes a slew of more songs. Slim making his way back UpStage. Their friends watching SideStage as they get fucked up and sing along to Golden God, ALPHA OMEGA, Lately, Bad Motherfucker, Wake&Bake, Rehab and 27.

The lights drop to The Family's calls for an ENCORE. Loving them the way they do, The Boys oblige. Heading back out to encore Sail.

"THANK YOU, SEATTLE!!!!" Colson shouts before finally heading OffStage for the night.

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

Carrying Luna over his shoulder down the venue hallway, Colson sees the artwork of one of The Boys. Laughing, he turns Luna to see also.

"I bet it was Rook...." She guesses with a chuckle.

"Nah... Too short." He continues to laugh. "Grab my phone and post it to my Insta, please." Colson asks Luna.

Slipping her hand along his perky ass into his back pocket, she pulls out his phone. Snapping the picture at his request.

"Here.... You know I don't Instagram..." Luna deadpans as she hands the device to him from around the side of his lean body.

Laughing again, he shakes his head at her refusal to even interact with the app at all. Continuing to carry her to his dressing room as he posts it.

××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

"Always follow the signs.

😈👅💦🐈🍆💥"

#seattle #hoteldiablo"

×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

"Holy SHIIIIT, Loons...." Colson groans out.

Laying his head back in delight as her tight pussy slowly slides up and down him. Teasing and pleasing his cock as she takes her time riding him. Colson takes her face into his large hands. Kissing her softly.

"Unnhh, I missed you...." He says as another grunt escapes him.

"Mmmm. Me tooo." She purrs.

Moving his mouth from her lips to her neck, Luna leans back, hands on his thighs as he seeks out her plump breasts. Sucking and nibbling on her piercings, Colson makes Luna shift against him faster. Rocking him deeper inside of her. She grabs the top of his hair. Pulling on it to keep her pace steady, he grabs and shakes her ass as it bounces.

"Mmmm... Gimme that dick." Luna moans.

Her demands excites Colson even more. Grabbing one hip firmly and snatching for her hair, he takes control. Sucking on her neck as he slams her up and down his cock. Moving her body like a willing doll. Making her walls clench and body quiver.

"My dirty girl likes that's... Hmm?" He says into her neck.

Luna can only utter sounds of pleasure as he fills her body. Feeling herself close, she starts to thrust into his rhythm. Colson pushes back, grabbing both of Luna's tits as they begin bucking against each other. Bitting the side of his neck, she makes him cum with her.

"Oooh, FUCK...." He shouts as they explode together.

Feeling his body go limp, Luna nuzzles into his naked chest. Kissing her forehead, they sit. The sound of the blood pumping through his heart synching up with her own.

Lifting her head, she asks him To Roll A Joint to his nod. Climbing off of him, Luna chops up her third set of rails today. Colson's fourth.

"What the fuck? I told you off your ass..." He teases as Luna looks at him perplexed. "You didn't get my voicemail?" He asks with a hint of disappointment as he lights the joint.

Luna shakes her head No as they bend down to do their lines together. Lifting up, she adjusts herself. Checking her nose and make-up.

Calling her voicemail as they pass the bone back and forth, Colson is definitely on there. Talking about porn and doing drugs off of her ass.

"And you say I'M WILD!!" Luna laughs as they head towards the door, looking over her shoulder coyly taunts. "There's always later."

Her words making Colson's member stand at full salute for her. Again.

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

Word Limit (2 of 3)

To be continued.....

❇Writer's Note: Feel free to share with whomever 😘

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alltingfinns · 5 years

Text

A Scandal in Belgravia

So I’m back on this.

The swoosh on some sped up footage in the previously, don’t remember noticing that.

This episode’s start gets so much funnier if you read some of the fic written between this and the previous episode.

Silly song now becomes more dramatic in TRF.

What did Irene offer Jim to get him so riled up? If it’s the plot plane plan that would explain why Sherlock is needed alive. But his emotional reaction... maybe he’s already been trying to get it on his own. Indicates possibly that Jim has been looking for a way to get to Mycroft.

“You’re typing a lot.”

This montage is nicely done.

Arguing about the blog.

The pouncing on the title.

He’s so hurt. He knows ash!

“We do watch the news.”

“You said boring and switched the channel.”

First time where “people” = John.

And the hat.

“It’s time.” I never thought about the waiting period.

Ehh, Hudson called up to the next floor so John’s room? Boys?

Ha cool, a SAAB. An old one too. I’d guess a 900 model from the early nineties.

Lestrade probably makes these calls a lot.

I get Sherlock’s confusion, he’s just in a sheet it’d make sense for him to be humiliated.

Their silent conversation + John’s acceptance of the absurdity.

That was a pretty long look on Sherlock’s lap and then asking about pants.

The Swedish subtitles on Netflix just referred to John as ”kronans gosse” I love it!

John took the queen liking his blog as a point in their argument.

I always like looking at John during the sheet bit.

Mycroft and John conversing in subtext that you need to remember their original conversation from a whole series/three episodes ago. And people think johnlock is too subtextual.

They made “the woman” a work title clearly to explain why Sherlock would refer to her that way. A bit harder to work in the context from ACD canon. It would be weird if Sherlock in modern times went “a credit to your gender” for defeating him.

Sherlock’s reaction Mycroft’s veiled assertion settles the question, I think. He’s making a “damn, he’s got me there” face. Mainly because John’s presence, if we considers his previous statement. If it were just him and Mycroft he’d just say “just because I haven’t done it doesn’t mean I can’t understand it!”

Btw, in case you think my typing speed is phenomenal I am hitting pause when something gets really interesting to me.

The parallel of checking the pictures have the “obvious” reading of romantic set up. But Sherlock is still learning details of a case he has been given so another reading is that while he’s targeting her she’s targeting him.

My reading is backed up by Sherlock’s immediate demeanor. His interest in her didn’t really appear until he found out she didn’t ask for anything. Blackmailers are a dime a dozen, but someone making a point of threat against the reputation of the BRF without asking for direct compensation? That’s someone with a plan and someone who can give him the kick he feeds of from casework.

John getting the last word in only for Sherlock to get the laterer word in.

Pinching an ashtray from the aforementioned BRF, whom himself mentioned as his first client with a navy, just to make John laugh? Some things are priceless but for everything else there’s MasterCard.

Okay, I had to back up a bit but: I don’t know who’s getting these pictures for Irene, but the last one that makes her smile is focused on John. She sees Sherlock more naked in the pictures where he’s fully clothed in the back of a cab than when he was in just a sheet on the pavement.

More parallels. This is really about their similarities. Could still be considered romantic foreshadowing “they’re made of the same cloth” type.

Ah yes, punch me.

That little dialogue snippet about “punch me” usually being subtext is what got me to first watch this show.

In general I have a lot of issues with how they handled Irene. But I especially don’t think I get the nudity in this scene. It reveals to Sherlock immediately that his ruse was all in vain since she either a) knew he was coming anyway or b) usually greet priests in distress while stark naked and might therefor just be stark raving.

Unflappable John Watson. Oh dear, my flat mate who I just beat up is sitting in front of a naked dominatrix with his vicar collar between her teeth. “I’ve missed something, haven’t I?”

He doesn’t like being a third wheel either. “I had tea too! Just so you know. In case you thought Sherlock got tea at the palace by himself. I was there too. The tea was lovely. Just the right temperature.”

Dammit.

Now I want tea.

Wait wait wait! When did John put his “date” shoes on? Only time it makes sense is when Sherlock was looking through his disguises. (He definitively wouldn’t wear them to traipse around the muddy crime scene.) Maybe they’re part of his “battle uniform”? Also obviously Sherlock can only “deduce” date because he knows what shoes John wears on dates. This isn’t really clothed people are easier to deduce.

How is he not deducing the heck out of her make up and ear piercing? Is it because she’s acting so extraordinary that her indicators become harder to contextualise?

Or is that whole thing just a plot hole?

And her comes her actual opening chess move. Nudity and banter was just setting up the pieces.

“Somebody loves you.” She pressed John’s big red “DO NOT PRESS” button right away. Later she says Jim told her how to play the Holmes brothers, but he definitively gave some pointers on John as well.

There’s something about John’s facial movements when Irene says he knows exactly where to look. Hard to compare with the sheet scene because of the different angles. But yeah, John is bi.

“You do borrow my laptop” with such an angry glare.

Wait are Irene’s shoes those shoes that are expensive because they’re red on the bottom? (I do not care enough to google their names.)

And it’s when John starts to smile that Sherlock does his verbal keysmash. Officially Ben said it was because Irene was paying attention to John instead of him, but she does that a number of times previously and has had quite a moment of getting cosy at John. But up until then John has been a bit standoffish. Of course you can only take so much of a pretty lady flirting with you before your smile reflex gets activated. Also he whips his head immediately at Sherlock in medical concern for his friend and Sherlock can speak clearly again.

Sherlock thinks he knows her game now as he makes his move getting her to confirm that the pictures are in the room.

Imagine the egg on his face if John hadn’t managed the smoke alarm in time.

“Amazing how fire exposes our priorities” should be part of a collection of lines that are only said once but thematically repeated throughout the show.

Some would argue maybe “I really hope you don’t have a baby in there” could be added but I don’t think it could be considered as repeated enough thematically.

Sherlock being his usual demanding self about turning off the fire alarm. The fool! Doesn’t he know how hard fire alarms are to turn off? (Maybe just a problem for me...)

Okay sure, easy enough with a gun, but impractical as a long term solution.

Umm, excuse me why does he go “no disrespect but you were clearly born in the 80s” in an episode from 2012? The most she’d be is 32, so clearly she looks at most like that then. Why would she be insulted by that? Also he earlier called a dude unhealthy, stupid and with bad breath in front of him without clarifying level of respect. So basically he’s needling her by adding that. That’s the most positive spin it can get.

John apologising for not stopping /forewarning about a whole bunch of trained killers sweeping in? That is diehard loyalty.

She’s staring hard at him as fire exposes his priority.

She actually does give him a clue by looking down the moment he looks at her. Never thought of that.

He heard something click wrong, looked at her for additional clue so she looks to the side “get out of the way”.

I love that John’s priority is medically inclined in the action scene, checking the vital signs of the guy that got shot.

“Observant?” “Flattered?” Honestly he shouldn’t be so surprised by the first bit as it was obvious some kind of observation + deduction got Sherlock the code.

As usual Sherlock gives zero fucks about gun safety. I feel John at some point is going to tie him down and lecture him about it. “We do not scratch our heads with the barrel of a gun, and we don’t call for the police by shooting in the air!”

You know if you’re knocking him out cold regardless, you don’t need him to drop the phone first. You just wanted the beating to be literal.

“He’ll be fine. I’ve used it on loads of my friends.” Yeah no, tell the doctor what chemical knockout drug you just put in a former drug addict!!

I wonder how much of dream Adler is actual Adler speaking to a drugged out Sherlock.

Could be nothing with the only real part being “hush now, returning your coat”. Would make sense for a dreaming brain to jumble the two cases together.

Start of series 2 we get to see Sherlock’s bedroom while John’s remain a mystery after 4 series.

John is not on the top of his game this episode. “What woman?”

And so it begins.

Mycroft does not have “shut up Hudson” privilege.

That whole phone noise discussion is punctuated with embarrassment.

Ah the gaping jaw that set the sails for the lestrolly ship.

“Christmas is canceled!” I love when John banters with Sherlock.

Sherlock is mean to Molly, but to be fair she kind of blundered a bit with the others and Sherlock complaining about John being away was clearly something he told in confidence. Telling Greg and John that their loved ones are betraying the trust put in them is general misanthropy, but Sherlock probably feels justified in needling Molly about a crush that he figures none of them know anyway.

Oh John’s look there. Greg clearly knows too what is coming but John has the recognition factor.

“Oh shit. It was me. Still me? She still has a thing for me?”

For a sort of dramatic moment it still has one of John’s absolutely funniest facial journeys. “Wait, you apologised? You know what an apology is? Are you feeling well?”

Obviously Irene’s text signal gets a lot of funny moments, but nothing will beat the timing of this one. And now I am imagining Jim with a pair of binoculars sitting across the street and telling Irene “now, send it now, it’ll be fucking priceless!”

And Greg “wait really?” When you’re not sure what your consultant can do to surprise you next.

I believe I made a post about it earlier but Jeanette’s boyfriend just said he’s been keeping track up till 57 on text messages that his platonic flat mate gets where the signal is a woman moaning.

“Do you ever reply?”

Jeanette starts working on her break up speech about then, I believe.

Molly nervously gulps a drink. Now Molly is everyone’s favorite John mirror. Medical professional with a crush on Sherlock, and whose favored type of outfit involves knitwear. John usually takes a drink at emotionally difficult times. Is this Molly handling her rejection, or showing what John is doing/will do without showing John?

Mycroft. If they passed a new law why would Sherlock know about it before you?

“How did Sherlock recognize her from... not-her-face?”

Mycroft answers with a smile and leaving the room.

“I got plans”

“No” I know you. If it’s a date you’ve probably bungled it already. Regardless if it is or isn’t you’ll still prioritize my brother because you always do.

John really goes for the superconfident strategy when dating, huh? “I always thought I was great.”

“I’ll even walk your dog!”

“I don’t have a dog!”

“No, because that was the last one...”

Always thought you were a great boyfriend, huh?

When even your landlady who got out of her marriage through execution thinks you bungled it, you probably bungled it.

Think I’ll break here and continue the rest of the episode tomorrow.

#rebecka’s sherlock rewatch #johnlock #john watson is bi #john watson is a disaster #jealous john watson

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