TRIGGER WARNINGS

AND CONTENT WARNINGS

─────────────

This wiki will contain mentions of

the following, do read at your own

discretion.

TRIGGER WARNINGS

Not really sure if there’s any. But PLEASE READ the content warnings just in case.

CONTENT WARNINGS

Heavy self-deprecation, neglect from parental figures, inferior complex, images of smoking and alcohol

岚英

──A GENTLE BEAST──

    VOLUME I.

    ─────

    WE ALL START SOMEWHERE. . .

    Once upon a time, there was a happy boy who lived

    in a dingy little apartment, coated with white and

    filled with the smell of delicious cookies. He was

    the happiest boy there is in the bustling city.

❛ Oh? Are you having fun, young man? Let me show you how to play some chords, and then we’ll talk. Haha! ❜

    CHAPTER ONE

    ─────

    CREDENTIALS. . .

    FULL NAME ─ Lanying (岚英)

    › “Why? Well, when we were first wedded, we

    couldn’t afford anything because of your

    father’s past mistakes. But I loved him, and

    I knew I could nurture a loving home even in

    this little house.”

    “Your mother prayed to every god in the

    world! And finally, on a quiet, misty night,

    you were born. You were practically her

    hero!”

    “That’s right, A-ying. Oh, our beautiful

    shining star, come to rescue us from misery－

    come, give mama some kisses.”

    “Hey! What about me?”

    SURNAME ─ Lan

    › The characteristics of Lan is mountain and

    mist, a surname ed down by his father.

    Until his generation, the Lan ancestors had

    always lived in secluded mountains or in

    little sleepy villages- preferably mountains

    shrouded in blankets of mist.

    NICKNAMES ─ A-ying ⨾ Ying-ying ⨾ Lan gong-zi

    › It’s common for Chinese names to be

    shortened. Rather serving as a nickname,

    Lanying had treated A-ying as his actual name

    up until he moved to the city. He hardly

    ed his surname up before that.

    › Ying-ying is a nickname Lanying would very

    much love to erase forever, thank you very

    much. His father had a habit of using that

    nickname to usher baby Lanying back to sleep.

    › Lanying’s parents loved to indulge him in

    make-belief when he was little. Back when

    Lanying had nothing but his parent’s love on

    his shoulders, he was also an imaginary

    prince of a faraway kingdom, with his parents

    as his loyal servants that knelt before his

    every command.

    BIRTH ─ 17 years old ⨾ 6th of Sept ⨾ Virgo/Rooster

     › Though Lanying is sixteen, he has the

    maturity of an adult.

    Maybe it comes with age. He’s acts rather

    rationally and something akin to a person who

    actually knows what he’s doing. Maybe it’s

    because he fought until his knuckles were

    smeared red and his knees were bruised in

    purple and blue. Maybe he’s tired of that.

    After all, if not him, then who will be the

    bigger person? What’s the point if no one

    bothers to ask–

    › The first few years were easy to count. The

    village his family lived in usually slept

    through the years but roars to life the

    instant there is something to celebrate; and

    in such an isolated environment, warmth is to

    be found under birthday campfires and

    horrible singing.

    When they moved, his father bought a calendar

    and began marking away the days of his

    birthday. Whenever it did roll around, songs

    would be sung and there would be cake- it

    became more and more rushed over the years,

    until it dwindled to Lanying whispering

    wishes to himself before blowing candles in

    his tiny apartment.

    By the time he moved to Hogwarts, he had

    forgotten about his birthday altogether.

    IDENTITY ─ male ⨾ he/him

    › Lanying has and always will be male. He is

    uncertain of the future he holds, but the one

    thing he’s comfortable with is his own skin.

    ORIENTATION ─ bisexual ⨾ demisexual

    › Lanying doesn’t think about romance that

    much.

    He can count the amount of times he has said

    ‘I love you’ for the past few years on his

    fingers. He is aware what platonic love is;

    his love for his family and those who are

    buried six feet under lies deep beneath the

    illusion of indifference.

    Romance is not his forte. He has flirted

    occasionally, but feels a sense of dread

    whenever someone flirts back. He clams up

    like a shell whenever affection is

    reciprocated. It must be because they’re

    obligated to do that and he’s forcing them,

    because why else would they do that? And

    that’s the last thing he ever wants.

    The people in his village are keen on mass

    reproduction because their numbers are

    dwindling, so they were strict on him having

    romantic intentions with an arranged wife. He

    broke free of that mentality eventually.

    He’s aware he’s too mentally unstable for a

    relationship, not that he wants one. Though…

    a small, slight part of him wishes for a

    lover that he knows and is endeared to. He

    has yet to put a name to this type of

    attraction.

    PREFERENCE ─ monogamous

    ─────

    › Lanying is, in short, secretive. He has yet

    to speak a single word of what happened in

    his childhood.

    Days go by with head in his hands, blanket

    draped under his curled figure, yearning for

    what could be. How nice would it be for

    someone to know, to understand? One is more

    than enough, he swears.

    He’s– tired. Of fighting. Of smeared blood on

    his knuckles and bruises on his knees. He

    wants someone to be with him. It doesn’t even

    have to help! He just– doesn’t want to be

    alone.

    As long as he craves their touch, he can

    imagine it well on his own.

    He wants someone to protect him. Someone

    who sees through him and be with him. But

    hardly anyone has ever had the patience to

    pierce through his many layers. He wants, but

    he can’t. He lost too much.

    LOVE LANGUAGE ─ acts of service

    › One would assume Lanying loves by physical

    touch. More specifically, punching.

    It is a side effect of having fought with so

    many students throughout the years; a rough

    shove on the shoulder, a pat on the back, a

    slap on the arm. It is a violent reaction

    stemming from habits, but his true love

    language is acts of service.

    When his father was still a small musician, he

    would put little Lanying on his lap and let

    his chubby fingers glide across the keys. His

    mother would coo at him, “Our little

    virtuoso, can you believe it, A-zhan?”, and

    little Lanying would gurgle and smile at the

    curious little notes a block of key made.

    Music is a beautiful type of expression that

    Lanying never really stopped clinging to

    after all those years. Every movement, every

    note, every song is written with ion and

    love; and Lanying conveys them all, in his

    dorm room whenever no one is there.

    He played for his parents, once; he played it

    with love and happiness, a young bright hope

    to aim for the stars and become their hero.

    That chapter has been closed as he shut the

    piano’s lid long ago. Should the day ever

    arise where he wants to convey his love, he

    will write countless scores and maybe, one

    day, play them in their pathetic glory. He

    can only hope for a future where they like

    it.

    ORIGINS ─ sichuan ⨾ chinese/british ⨾ mixed(?)

     › Sichuan is a lovely place to be in had you

    not been in one of its secluded mountains.

    Lanying’s family used to live in a

    southwestern rural area in a Chinese

    province, but Lanying had never set foot

    outside the mountain. It was one of the

    forbidden rules of such a place; to never

    interact with non-worshippers of cultivators.

    Lanying’s memory of his village’s background

    is very foggy, but he re the exciting

    parts (because that’s all little A-ying

    ed, apparently).

    Centuries ago, a pair of wandering travelers

    with thick black robes and weird sticks

    stumbled onto a group of famished farmers.

    Plagued with illnesses and misfortune, the

    farmers begged for the travelers to help

    them. The travelers agreed; they struck down

    evil beasts and brought crops to their land.

    They spoke of magic and wizardry that few have

    heard. They told tall tales of their

    adventures and their hope to defeat the Lord

    of Evil. The farmers’ homes became a small

    sanctuary for such people, which they now

    call cultivators today.

    But a few decades ago, the cultivators stopped

    coming to their flourishing town. That didn’t

    stop the village from trying sorts of things

    to summon them, though.

    Lanying has a general idea of what really

    happened, but he decides to entertain himself

    by not revealing anything about it.

    › Lanying never thought of a world outside

    Suichuan, but he was more than happy to hop

    on the first plane to London when he received

    his letter.

    Well, he wasn’t. But his parents were happy,

    and that was enough.

    With visas gotten, apartments were bought,

    and furniture was arranged. It was smaller

    and dimmer, but that was what they could

    afford under such circumstances.

    One could say he’s British, especially since

    he waived the accent that he was made fun of

    when he first entered high school. (He beat them

    all up and got his first detention). And it’s

    fine. The more he forgets about everything,

    the better.

    › Lanying’s mother loved to tease him with a

    bunch of love stories of her and his father.

    Little A-ying would recoil at the mention of

    love and gag at every word.

    From his memories, what he can piece together

    is this:

    His father had been visiting another foreign

    country under special circumstances when he

    met her. Her mother became head over heels

    over him, and agreed to confine herself in

    the little village on the mountains.

    No matter how much A-ying pestered her, his

    mother would not cave in on telling just

    exactly where she came from. To this day,

    A-ying still has no idea how he’s mixed.

    ABILITIES — human ⨾ none

     › There’s not much to say. Lanying is

    completely human, but he doesn’t completely

    envy people who aren’t. Not out of

    discrimination, but rather out of pity. He

    doesn’t understand the pain a full night

    transformation evokes, he doesn’t understand

    the impending doom when being laid a curse.

    He doesn’t want to, either.

    › Lanying never really believed in the stories

    the head of the village told, hence why he

    scrapped the idea of becoming a cultivator.

    He had tried, though, when he was a wee

    little boy. Back then he had an obsession

    with ancient relics, so he skimmed through

    every book and went through every unnatural

    case that happened in the world.

    He hasn’t completely forgotten about it.

❛ Sorry, kiddo. Your dad’s got to go on a tour in six weeks. Oh, chin up! With a ba’s new money, he can give you anything you want. So– ❜

    CHAPTER TWO

    ─────

    APPEARANCE. . .

    GENERAL ─ a map to their reflection

    › Lanying is undeniably tall with a height of

    5’9. He used to be extremely short and tiny

    (thanks to him coming from a family of

    literal dwarfs), but halfway during fifth

    year he gained a massive growth spurt– he

    kissed those belittling peers a sweet

    goodbye.

    He’s probably unrecognizable, and it’s

    understandable. He was short, now he’s tall;

    he was bubbly, now he’s a monster. You know,

    normal things that come with age.

    A-ying never really listened to the rule of

    never stepping outside his village, because

    he frequented the Jade Pool at the bottom of

    the mountains, back when it was still open to

    the public. He prides himself on never

    getting caught. Hence, the smell of petrichor

    that clings to him even after years of not

    going there.

    Despite his constant lack of maturity, he

    still maintains his hygiene regularly. He

    combs his hair and washes it almost every

    day, and makes sure to either handle the

    injuries he gains with care or seek

    professional help from infirmaries. It explains

    his lack of scars and smooth hair.

    The wolfcut he gained was a nice change from

    the bowl haircut he had when he was small (he

    garnered plenty of unwanted attention from

    it, back when all he thought was fighting).

    He doesn’t have many scars, but it doesn’t

    necessarily mean he has none. The one below

    his waist tells the story of his first

    brawl, which he failed to nurse

    back to normal himself. The one on his arm

    tells the time he got bit by a cat which he adored.

    The one on his stomach is from the time he

    nearly got stabbed by a random man during

    summer, and so on.

    He could easily head to the infirmary and

    let people stitch it up for him, but he quite likes

     them. They’re like trophies for him.

    Besides, he’s gotten rid of all the scars he

    doesn’t want to see anyway.

    Contrary to popular belief, A-ying likes soft

    things. He often dresses in whatever he feels

    most comfortable in, preferably soft, white

    blouses with sleeves so big they cover his

    palm. On special occasions, he wears the

    complete opposite– black leather. During

    harsh winter seasons, he wears giant coats to

    keep himself warm.

    Simply put, he looks harmless in his soft

    aesthetic, even even that’s far from the

    truth.

❛ He doesn’t need a luxurious home, A-zhan! What they need is their father! Their father! I’ve had it with you abandoning our family for your tours and shows! ❜

    CHAPTER THREE

    ─────

    HEALTH. . .

ERROR. FILE NOT FOUND.

❛ Listen, honey; your father and I… won’t be seeing each other anymore. But that’s okay, right? There’s my A-ying. Now, I’d like you to meet Hans– ❜

    CHAPTER FOUR

    ─────

    MORE INFO . . .

    SPIRIT ANIMAL ─ qilin

    › From legends, Qilin is an ancient beast with

    the legs of a horse and the body of a deer.

    It is said to bring good luck and prosperity,

    like all Chinese mythology claims. They are

    said to have gentle souls in times of peace,

    but raise their heads and charge into battle

    when engulfed in war.

    He treasures the precious memories he made

    with his father. Every note and key that

    played in his ears creates a fragile memory

    of peace, of happiness.

    Lanying took care of Han’s children, when he

    was still welcomed in the family. Back then,

    he wanted nothing more than to take care of

    them and made sure they would grow into wise

    young adults that could fit into society.

    A load of bull, really. Look where that got

    him.

    Though the world is at a time of (relative)

    peace, there is a storm in Lanying’s heart

    that crafts the gentle image he shows himself to

    everyone today. He wants to be gentle,

     to be the big brother that never got torn

    away from his siblings.

    Maybe, that version of him is still there, burning

    bright and true.

    NIGHTMARE ─ therapist

    › The office walls are painted a soothing

    shade of light gray-blue. It compliments the

    calming photographs hung neatly around the

    space. The only thing on the wall that sheds

    any clue about the owner of the office is

    hung to the side. It reads: “British Board of

    Professional Psychology”, and below that,

    “Amelia Peterson, PsyD”.

    A woman dressed in turquoise and seated on a

    red couch will smile. Though she says

    nothing, Lanying re every sickening

    sweet word that comes from her mouth. She

    would say, “Good morning, Lanying. How are

    you doing today?” While butchering his name.

    When Lanying was fourteen, freshly thrown out

    into the streets during the scorching summer,

    his mother scheduled a therapist for him.

    She tried her best, but it was all for

    naught.

    Lanying hated Amelia. Every calm word she

    spoke was met with outbursts and curt

    responses, until even she sighed and muttered

    he was a lost cause. It just reminded him how

    stupid he was, to be so helpless not even a

    therapist could walk him through anything, to

    be so, so screwed up that even his mother cut

    cobntact with him after that.

    Every memory of that incident weaved its way

    into the little office room, and Lanying

    fears it.

    DREAMS ─ his family

    › “Aiya, A-ying, when are you ever going to

    learn how to dress up properly?”

    “Come now, Alice, you know our son’s got his

    own taste in fashion.”

    A grumble. “Probably got it from you. Say,

    how did tonight’s performance go?”

    “… Not so well.”

    “Oh, hun…”

    “But that’s okay. I have a lovely woman and a

    handsome son by my side! What more could I

    want?”

    “Aiya, stop it.”

    “Mama’s blushing, though~”

    “Quit butting in, A-ying!”

    Though Lanying can’t hear it, he can see his

    father’s smile erupting into roaring

    laughter. As if on cue, the corners of his

    lips turn upwards, and he chuckles to

    himself- even as silent tears roll down his

    eyes.

    SMELL ─ cookies ⨾ lichen ⨾ washed clothes

    › The first thing Lanying would smell is the

    warm smell of freshly-baked cookies, straight

    out from the oven. Lanying has a love for

    baking, and though he’s nor exactly great at

    it, it just means the his successes are all

    the more precious. Just smelling the cookies

    is enough to imagine the softness of each

    bite, and the crunch of its surface. Hard on

    the outside and soft on the inside; a perfect

    blend of a snack that Lanying needs. It feels

    warm, and it feels like home.

    › Lanying also adores rain- when in shelter,

    of course. The cool breeze that ruffles his

    hair and the lichen smell it brings gives him

    an odd sense of nostalgia. Rain cleanses the

    dirty things that cling onto every being;

    Lanying sits just a roof away from it,

    sometimes hoping it will cleanse his own

    soul.

    › Lanying does laundry himself- that much is

    true. He enjoys the softness of fresh

    clothes’ fabric and often buries himself in

    baskets of new clothes. The smell that clings

    to it is a smell Lanying cannot name, but he

    enjoys it very much. He hopes those around

    him also wash their clothes regularly just

    for him to smell it often.

❛ A-ying! It’s Hans! It’s been a while. How’ve you been doing. . . Oh, no, don’t touch that, those are my kid’s photos– that’s my kid’s room, don’t touch that either– ❜

    CHAPTER FIVE

    ─────

    PERSONALITY. . .

    GENERAL ─ summarized personality

    › In his younger years, Lanying had little to

    no restraint. He punched through his way out,

    when his peers would laugh and mock his every

    move. He punched his way out when someone had

    the audacity to snicker at his haircut.

    But he couldn’t punch his way into his

    mother’s arms.

    He had no older brother to help him when his

    back was pressed against the wall. He had no

    older brother to fight, to defend, to

    protect, to love him when he was small. He

    had no older brother to help him outgrow the

    hollow shell of his former self.

    To the younger years, he is gentle. He tries

    to console those who cry, and bring subtle

    justice to the weak. He doesn’t know how to

    exactly describe it; every sad tale he hears

    shatters his heart into pieces, and he has no

    choice but to scramble to pick them up and

    wipe tears from a pair of weeping eyes.

    He despises those who try to butt into his

    business. His story should never be told to

    anyone; it should be buried deep beneath

    layers of his soft smile. It isn’t exactly

    hypocritical, though, since he only wishes to

    bring comfort to those who dares to seek

    help, even if albeit unwillingly.

    He doesn’t have friends, but he’d imagine

    strolling around campus with them, talking

    about the new things he’d learnt and treating

    them with every ounce of kindness and respect

    that they deserve. But he doesn’t want a

    significant other; he definitely doesn’t.

    Even if, in some universe, he did, he

    wouldn’t deserve one.

    Lanying believes the world is unfair. It

    strips one of everything they could ever

    want, as if taunting them with an empty

    promise. Though, he believes he is the only

    exception, because he deserves everything

    he’s been through.

    He believes that the purest souls will

    cleanse it, sooner or later. To become pure,

    one must be patient, be gentle, and be kind.

    He can’t taint anyone with his recklessness,

    so he repeats the words like a mantra: be

    patient, be gentle, be kind. For the people

    who endure the same fate as he had, he needs

    to be all three. For them, he will do all

    three.

    He cannot be the tide to change the course of

    this world (Which is ridiculous to think

    about, since when did he develop a god

    complex? Never, that’s when), but he can be

    the stepping stone for everyone to do just

    that.

    PERSONA — patience ⨾ distrust

     › Before Hans came into his life, the Lan

    family was having a difficult time coping

    with the loss of a father.

    A-ying’s mother was determined to serve food

    on the table in spite of “that rotting excuse

    of a musician, who cares about him anyway?”,

    but barely had time to talk to her son.

    Yet, he felt the gentle kisses when he was

    already asleep, her patient smiles when he

    rambled about a new toy, and the kind smiles

    she showed when he asked for forgiveness

    after a fight.

    A-ying barely had time to any of

    them when he was busy being suspended or

    arrested on the streets.

    Now, though, he’s learned. How pitiful; even

    years after she left his life, her words and

    smile could still be felt.

    › Hardly anyone had ever extended a hand to

    Lanying.

    That is not to say that he thinks the current

    generation is cruel or unkind; far from it,

    actually. He tries his best to hide his

    younger, violent nature.

    When someone does, though, he backtracks like

    a cat who hisses at a foreign touch. He’s not

    used to such gentleness, such kindness

    directed at him. It’s probably just out of

    pity, and the person isn’t worth trusting at

    all.

    Distrust plays a big part of him in his life;

    part of the reason why he’s been trying

    Occlumency since last year. So no one one

    ever pry into his head, or take a single peek

    at the many complex layers of his mind.

    One would have to be a saint to go past his

    defenses. So far, none has it.

    CAPACITIES — patience ⨾ patience

    › Lanying believes that restraint and patience

    is true strength that few can fully achieve.

    While he can’t hold a candle to a saint, he

    likes to think he’s better at restraint than

    most people- assuming that the younger

    students are more lively and impulsive,

    anyway.

    › Lanying may have honed his reflexes to

    perfection, but that’s only in the case of

    physical situations. When it comes to the

    strategic mind, he takes things slow and

    steady, and ignores the innovative wisdom

    that comes from going with his instincts and

    initial perspectives. They say patience is a

    virtue, but like everything in this world,

    there are always two sides to a coin.

    AMBITION — to protect

    › Lanying has yet to know what his future

    career might be, but one thing’s for sure; he

    wishes to protect. Who? Anyone within his

    reach. Of what? Anything, whether physical or

    mental.

    No one but him deserves to wallow in a dark

    pit of shame and suffering. Mortals have

    fleeting dreams, but whatever the future may

    bring, this is an aspiration Lanying will

    cling to to defy such a saying.

    NEUROSIS — insects ⨾ katsaridaphobia

      › Lanying has an irrational fear for any and

    every insect. Even butterflies. They’re

    unpredictable and creepy and dirty! He’s not

    exactly germaphobic but any mention of

    insects will make him turn pale.

    › Listen, don’t judge Lanying for this, okay?!

    He’s sure plenty of people have

    katsaridaphobia!

    Like the general population, Lanying

    absolutely despises cockroaches. He hates

    their brown shell-looking backs and their

    constantly antennas- eugh.

    Lanying is fortunate enough to have never

    encountered a flying cockroach, but if he

    does, he’s sure he’ll out.

    INSECURITY — imaginary audience ⨾ voice

    › There’s a certain phenomenon called the

    Imaginary Audience, where a person believes

    every mistake or movement is judged by the

    council of literally everyone in the

    universe. Lanying has this type of fear, with

    pretty much anything, really; from the way he

    walks to the way he talks, he believes one

    wrong move and he’ll be banished to the

    eternal hell of shame and embarrassment. But

    this sort of insecurity is pretty small, and

    easy to ignore.

    › Lanying doesn’t really like how deep his

    voice is. It’s scratchy and has a certain

    baritone that rumbles when speaking. The

    other reason why he speaks so softly is to

    (hopefuully) not scare anyone off with it.

    It’s an irrational fear, since he doesn’t

    feel the same way with other people’s voices,

    but is it because of empathy?

    PET PEEVES — uncontrolled volume ⨾ walking barefoot indoors

    › Every summer, Lanying forces himself to go

    to the same therapist (to fix himself,

    because he’s broken and useless and-)  and

    renting a small apartment from his own

    savings- therefore also spending countless

    days in London for two months.

    He has heard plenty of videos played loudly

    in public without a care. It irks him to know

    that he can’t focus on his phone because some

    kid is playing Cocomelon in the background

    with a volume that could probably reach the

    Sahara Desert.

    › Lanying always wears slippers indoors, and

    it annoys him whenever he see people who

    don’t. Don’t they find it disgusting?

    Unhygienic? Perhaps it’s the Asian in him

    that’s tsking. At least it’s better than

    walking into a home with shoes on. Lanying

    shudders at the thought.

    HOBBIES — baking

      › Lanying’s hobby is rather domestic. As

    mentioned before, he thoroughly enjoys

    baking. It soothes the hollow part of his

    heart when he only needs to follow

    instructions. On the rare occasions that he

    gets creative, it’s an absolute delight to

    taste a dish and find it savory! A-ying

    adores the many little joys found in baking,

    and he wonders if becoming a baker is an

    option (assuming he stops burning the entire

    kitchen down because he left the oven for too

    long).

    GIFTS — agility

     › Lanying has a natural talent for agility.

    The reason why he got into into fights and

    won in the past is not because of his raw

    strength (not with his lanky figure, that’s

    for sure), but because of his natural

    adaptability and agility. He can parkor in

    even the narrowest places, and he has honed

    his reflexes to near perfection- which is a

    nice bonus.

    But he has tried his best to hide such a

    trait. After all, there’s nothing in this

    affiliations that require such a skill, and

    who would want him anyway?

❛ I just- don’t understand that boy. He was never this violent before… How could you say that?! My A-ying is the kindest, most precious boy in the world, and he will always be my top priority! ❜

    CHAPTER SIX

    ─────

    PSYCHOLOGICAL PROFILE. . .

    MATURITY LEVEL — 8 (on a scale from 1-10)

    › Lanying always tries his best to understand

    the situation better, before jumping to

    conclusions. He usually thinks in a rational

    matter, before handling the situation with

    sympathy and care.

    He doesn’t try to run away from his problems;

    he did it once, and the consequences were

    nothing short of disastrous. He has thought

    of life and death as a whole, and the world

    around him- but he doubts he’s wise just

    because he’s conscious about it. He’s mature

    because he understands and accepts it.

    LEARNING STYLE — flashcards

    › Lanying creates flashcards for himself. He

    jots down anything the professor says, but

    doesn’t really bother to organize them

    properly later on. Instead, he creates short

    questions from his notes and writes down the

    answer next to it. During his first few

    years, he often pestered his dorm mates to

    quiz him, but he likes doing it alone

    nowadays.

    A-ying is extremely perceptive about details,

    and makes sure to fit in every question for

    every case scenario. He’s got pretty decent

    scores without studying much thanks to it, so

    he sees no harm in overthinking in this

    department.

    SELF-PERCEPTION — a monster

    › Lanying isn’t really scared of werewolves or

    mystical beasts or any life-threatening

    monsters that could swallow him whole. No,

    the monster he’s afraid of is himself.

    The injuries he’s caused, the siblings that

    he hurt, the people he’s lost- if he’s not a

    monster, why else would all of these things

    happen to him? He never really had a chance

    to truly say what he thinks of himself, but

    even if he did, he would never it to being

    the unstable child he once was- and, perhaps,

    still is now.

    If he were a friend, he would stay far, far

    away from him.

    OUTWARD IMPRESSION — blank

    › None yet.

❛ Ooh, Alyssa, that’s wonderful! Mama’s so proud of you. Hold on, I need open this– Oh… oh. God, that boy… it’s the third time this week. When is he ever going to be like his siblings– ❜

    CHAPTER SEVEN

    ─────

    LINGUISTICS. . .

    LANGUAGES — chinese ⨾ english

    › Lanying’s first mother langauge is Chinese,

    but even after he moved, he still retains the

    fluency of such a language. He’s appreciative

    of the culture and long history of his

    country, and refuses to let go of that side

    that was born there. From time to time, he

    would dig up ancient texts and recent light

    novels to his time, to refresh his

    knowledge.

    When he talks to himself, he also uses a slew

    of Chinese swear words, but he does so

    quietly so the younger years won’t be

    influenced.

    › English is a language he struggled with for

    a long time; the grammar, the vowels, the

    phonics are all nearly impossible to memorize

    for little A-ying. But he strove forward out

    of pure petty spite of those who mocked him

    (because nothing drives him more than spite)

    and he thinks he has a good grasp of the

    language now.

    Please excuse him if he ever makes grammar

    mistakes.

    COMPREHENSIBLE — spanish

    › Spanish is something Lanying picked up from

    his spare time. He’s deciphered a handful of

    phrases and grammar structures from the

    students who do speak it (he is eternally

    grateful for their unconscious aid).

    If you were to ask simple, textbook

    questions, he will answer with uncertainty.

    If you asked him to write something, he’ll

    spend five minutes staring at the wall

    because he forgot whether he has to write an

    upside down question mark at the beginning of

    a sentence. If you asked him to have a

    natural, day-to-day conversation with a

    native speaker, he’ll run away when you’re

    not looking.

    SENSE OF HUMOR — dad jokes

    › Lanying isn’t sure what the exact word for

    this is, but he enjoys chaotic humor. He

    enjoys the chaos the Slytherin common room

    erupts into, and the shenanigans that the

    students pull have him chuckling to himself.

    He also unironically enjoys dad jokes. Most

    of the time, it’s him who will tell it, but

    he will instantly fall in love if you tell

    him one. It’s stupid and it’s silly, and

    that’s what makes it hilarious. Depending on

    the joke, he’ll either snicker with crinkled

    eyes or double over roaring with laughter.

    The worse, the better!

    VOICE — british accent ⨾ softly and gently

    › Lanying’s voice is quite deep for a

    sixteen-year-old. He speaks slowly and

    softly, like a mother to a son, for almost

    every occasion. Happy? He’ll speak with his

    smile very obvious to hear. Sad? His tone

    will have a hint of melancholy to it. Angry?

    He’ll do so with gritted teeth but in a

    patient manner.

    Whatever the case, he refuses to raise his

    voice unless it is to call someone from afar.

    He doesn’t want anyone to be exposed to it.

❛ Alright, boy, I’ve had it with you. I don’t care what your mom says, from now on you are banned from ever stepping in our household. You’re no son of mine, you monster– ! ❜

    CHAPTER EIGHT

    ─────

    RELATIONSHIPS. . .

    IMMEDIATE FAMILY — Small unit of family.

    ─── FATHER

     ; Lan Zhan

     ; 46

    ; alive

    › Lanying loved his father to death. Short,

    lanky, gray hair with a pair of glasses to

    squint with; he’s your average Asian dad.

    As you can probably see, things didn’t stay

    that way.

    After the divorce, A-Zhan remarried another

    famous musician and abandoned his family to

    start his life anew- and Lanying-

    Well. Lanying doesn’t hate him. He doesn’t

    think he ever will. He can’t count how many

    times he’s peered through curtains of

    competition stages, hoping to see him on the

    front row, pleading that he’s only running

    late, that he’ll come back.

    If A-Zhan ever decided to come back into his

    life, Lanying’s afraid he won’t have the

    courage or hatred to reject him.

    ─── MOTHER

     ; Alice Steignburg (formally known as Lan Yi)

    ; 43

    ; alive

    › The same goes for his mother. His mother was

    strict, but she was playful and kind and

    always tried to understand her son. It sure

    as hell didn’t stay that way, either.

    Over time, Lanying supposes the hollow shell

    of A-Yi’s bright and curious son became too

    much to bear for her.

    Why didn’t she come to his rehearsals, then?

    Why didn’t she stay strong under the pressure

    of the divorce and marry a better man,

    instead of latching onto whoever looked her

    way? Why didn’t she try to connect, to ask-

    Lanying hopes and prays for a single letter

    of his well-being, of his academics, hell,

    even a letter filled with insults would make

    him happy. But it never came. She cut off

    ties with him completely.

    He supposes it’s about time he does the same.

    ─── STEPFATHER

     ; Hans Steignburg

     ; 36

    ; alive

    › IHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIM

    ─── SIBLING

     ; ERROR. Please refresh again sometime later.

    ; ERROR. Please refresh again sometime later.

    ; ERROR. Please refresh again sometime later.

    ›

    ROMANTIC INTEREST — Their ideal

    relationship.

    ─── BLANK

     ; name of partner

     ; partners age

    ; their status (alive, dead, etc…)

    › A blank slate, ready to be filled…

    FRIENDS — Their lifelong soulmate.

    ─── BLANK

     ; name of friend

     ; friends age

    ; their status (alive, dead, etc…)

    › A blank slate, ready to be filled…

    RIVALS — Not everyone can be a friend.

    ─── BLANK

    ; name of rival

     ; rivals age

    ; their status (alive, dead, etc…)

    › A blank slate, ready to be filled…

    ROLE MODELS — People we look up to..

    ─── BLANK

    ; name of model

     ; their status (alive, dead, etc…)

    › A blank slate, ready to be filled…

❛ Good morning, Lanying. My name is Amelia, and I will be your psychiatrist every summer. Your mother asked me to help you schedule some appointments. Now– ❜

    CHAPTER NINE

    ─────

    BACKSTORY. . .

    ONCE UPON A TIME, there was a boy who was as

    happy as can be. He lived in a small home on

    top of the secluded mountains, right in the

    middle of a sleepy village filled with smiles

    and warmth.

    His mother was an ambitious woman whose dream

    is to build a happy family from their rags,

    and his father was a talented musician that

    adored his son and looked at him like he hung

    the moon and stars, and the boy had a dream

    to play the piano.

    One day, the boy

    received a letter; and thus began the gateway

    to a brand new world, away from the mountains

    and the blanket of mists that surrounds it.

    Their neighbours were suspicious, but that was

    okay; they had each other!

    His father’s musical talents were spread far

    and wide, and overnight he gained popularity

    that the family could have never dreamed of.

    They celebrated and laughed, unknowing of the

    curse that laid under the disguise of a

    blessing that would tear them apart.

    Soon, the father began to abandon his family

    for world tours and shows, for the ambition

    of gaining the fame he had always wanted.

    Feeling confined to the chains of his family,

    he leapt from tour to tour, never once

    looking back.

    The mother soon filed for a divorce, and the

    father remarried another nameless musician on

    their path to fame. The mother, broken and at

    a loss, finds hope in the sorry excuse of

    another man.

    The boy didn’t mind; not at all. The man was

    friendly and had a pair of siblings that he

    would soon love.

    But that was all the man was: friendly, and

    never loving. Not an ounce of family love was

    given to him, so the boy turned to violence

    to fill the desperation in his chest.

    The man, soon disgusted at his behavior,

    labeled him a monster and kicked the boy out

    of his home. The boy returned to his school

    from far away, hoping for from his

    mother. He understood why his mother wouldn’t

    confront the man directly, so surely she

    would her son in secret, right…?

    His mother gave him a child therapist and some

    money for an tiny apartment, but said nothing

    more after that.

    The boy wrote to her every day, but not a

    single letter was given a reply.

    The boy realized he was alone, and with that,

    he tried to mature into the person he is

    today.

❛ … and he lives. There is no happily ever after, and there is no prince charming. But he lives, in the quiet dorm of a newfound home of magic– for that is the only home he has. Heh. ❜

    CHAPTER TEN

    ─────

    DIRECTORY. . .

    PLAYLIST — a repeat of doja cat songs/pj sekai

    PINTEREST — dark academia

    LITERACY — semi-lit - lit

    STATUS — single