#vkaccepted

WHAT CAN YOU DO, WHAT CAN YOU DO?  WEAR A RED HEART?  RIP IT IN TWO?

psychic navigation—the ability to go into a temporary paralytic state and create present-time three dimensional mental maps of an area, including anything and everything within it, thus being able to track the locations and movements of individuals and objects within the area also. He is able to then pass on this information to members of his team via mind links they share, aiding them in battle.

LIMITS, LIMITS, LIMITS -- THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS A CREATURE LIMITLESS.

considering the fact that he is only able to use his powers within a short radius of himself, there is no other option available than to provide tactical and analytical support while directly in the line of fire, and as his powers are primarily based on support and strategy, being unable to use them for either offence or defense—especially in his paralytic state during the use of his ability—leaves him open to attack. due to this reason he almost always needs to rely on another for protection against potential assault. his visual capacity is also affected by distance; in other words, the further a person or object is, from him, the less details he will be able to provide about the person or object in question. currently, the absolute limit when it comes to time he can spend using his ability at a stretch is an hour, both because of his lack of skill and mastery, and because of the immense strain it puts on his body and his mind—the larger the area, the faster his energy will deplete, and the shorter the time limit. his ability also requires immense calm and focus, which means that his emotional and psychological well-being plays at that particular moment in time plays a part in it as well.

WHO ARE YOU?  WHO ARE YOU? TELL ME, CONFIDENTLY, WHO ARE YOU?

1. WHAT DO YOU FEAR?

i. like with most things, only people who have ever really experienced full body paralysis understand how frightening it truly is— you’re still conscious of your surroundings, aware of everything that’s going on, and yet you’re unable to physically do anything about it. like you’re trapped in your very own body. the feeling is no stranger to you simply because of your nature, but facing your fears don’t always make them disappear, do they? quite the opposite, really, and you're absolutely terrified of the idea that, one day, that temporary loss of muscle function in your body will no longer be temporary.

2. WHAT ARE YOUR DREAMS?

ii. 1998—changsha, hunan, china; first day of school after winter break. Your mother’s driving you to school, hair pulled up into a messy bun with her sunglasses hiding blood-shot eyes and the bags beneath them. When you arrive she kisses your cheek goodbye before pressing the unlock button for the passenger side door. Her skin feels sweaty against yours. The adult word for it is ‘hungover’, but you don’t know that yet. You don’t know a lot of things yet. Kiss your mother back, get out of the car, wave before making your way to class; it’s all routine. You settle into your seat, overhear the girl who sits behind you tell her friend all about how her parents took her to the amusement park on the other side of town last week, how they ate ice cream and cotton candy, how she took pictures with the bunny rabbit and she got on the carousel twice. It sounds amazing. Magical, even. You wonder if your mother will take you there one day.

3. WHAT KIND OF FUCKWAD ARE YOU? (EVERYONE’S AN ASSHOLE)

iii. perhaps treachery and fraud is simply in your blood. your father was never an honest man, if the stories you hear are any indication; why should you be any different? this is not a new idea, but rather words you grew up hearing. you never took it to heart or so you say. mother’s been through a lot, she doesn’t mean the things she says. you kept telling yourself that, at least. it’s the thought that counts. but now you’re less a boy and more a man, and you have to wonder if those harsh words in moments of broken vulnerability were really just that, words. maybe she knew all along. mothers seem to have a knack for knowing, don’t they?

4. WHAT KIND OF GOODY TWOSHOES ARE YOU? (EVERYONE’S A BIT SOFT)

iv. you’ve always been somewhat of a workaholic—a trait the result of your perfectionist persona or one last pathetic attempt at getting mommy dearest’s acceptance, approval, and unconditional love? who knows. you certainly don’t. well, never look a gift horse in the mouth, they say. diligent work ethics, steadfast belief in your own (very limited) moral compass and never knowing when to give up; some of your (very few) respectable attributes. you’re also positively anal-retentive at times, but that’s alright, you’re cute from certain angles under certain types of lighting. a flaw or two can be overlooked.

5. WHAT DO YOU REMEMBER? (THERE MUST BE THINGS THAT HAUNT YOU)

one — it’s yixing’s 6th birthday today but no one seems to remember. he’s holed up in a corner of his bedroom with the lights turned off, legs crossed and absentmindedly playing with the iron-man action figure in his hands. pretending he can’t hear the screaming going on downstairs, the sound of china plates shattering against walls and dining chairs being thrown across the room. mother’s yelling for them to ‘just get the fuck out, get the fuck out of my house you fucking son of a bitch’. he gets up, opens the door just a crack and just in time to see his father storm out the front door, duffel bag in hand and not a single word goodbye. mother runs up the stairs with tears streaming down reddened cheeks, more so caused by anger and frustration than actual sadness. she passes him by without a second glance. he’s always been rather invisible in this house. two — three years have passed since his father walked out on them for the last time (although certainly not the first). a job transfer requires his mother on a one-way flight to seoul by sunday morning, which means, by default, that he’ll be tagging along for the metaphorical ride; she’s busy packing dishes and cutlery into cardboard boxes in the kitchen while he folds freshly laundered clothes into an open suitcase on his bedroom floor. truth be told, he’s not all that upset about the move. he doesn’t have much to be left behind. three — he’s a teenager dealing with teenage issues, like hormones and learning how to shave without mutilating his face and having grown out of that really nice pair of jeans already (even though he bought the damned thing just two months ago) and cramming for midterms that start next week; he’s brought a classmate over today to help with that last one—she sucks at math and he sucks at english, they’re of mutual use to one another, but that initial plan seems to get lost in translation because, an hour later, they’re making out on the living room floor when his mother walks in. ritualistic ‘yixing, i’m home’ stopping mid-sentence, followed by the obligatory awkward silence. It takes the girl a minute or two to get her books and bolt through the door, red-faced and gaze-lowered, stopping only to bow a perfect 90 degrees with a soft “sorry, mrs.zhang.”  his mother smiles in return, waiting till she’s gone before turning back to her son, a single brow raised—she bursts out laughing and he wishes the earth would just split open, swallow him whole and be done with it. 

WHAT WILL YOU DO, WHAT WILL YOU DO?  WHEN THE BIG MAN IN BLACK COMES RUNNING FOR YOU?

02/05/2013, HOPE’S PEAK, DAEGU, SK— mother kisses his cheek goodbye for the last time, her fingers mapping over the contours of his face, the rise of his cheekbones; when he looks her in the eyes he can’t decide whether he’s seeing in them sadness or disappointment. is there a difference? does it even matter? he kisses her forehead in return, one arm wrapped around her, slender fingers gently squeezing a shoulder. silent thanks for everything she’s done in spite of her flaws; a single working woman who raised a child all on her own when she could have just as easily dropped him off at a church doorstep in some nameless Changsha neighborhood. He was never really all that good at emotional displays of affection. Perhaps that runs in the family, too—she tells him to take care, says she’ll call when he knows she won’t. says she’ll miss him and he knows she will. he turns around with a small wave, doesn’t bother looking back as he’s escorted through the beginnings of what turns out to be a myriad of seemingly never-ending corridors. it’s like he’s a child again and it’s the first day of school, he’s half-hoping she’s still standing where he left her but he half-knows she’s not (and he’d honestly rather not find out). they come to a stop in front of what he assumes to be a training field—what with all the wooden obstacles and various intimidating machinery scattered across the area—minutes later. he’s introduced to several people, all of whom he exchanges brief formalities with, but he’s only really interested in a young man of about his age who’s introduced to him as his ‘partner’ for the test that would determine whether or not he’ll be admitted into this fine jailhouse facility; they look like they just woke up, doesn’t come across as the type of person with a single problem in the world. now, normally, yixing wouldn’t care, he’s just not the type of person to care, but with him being in his current predicament, he’s more or less forced to care. he’s not necessarily a fan of trusting complete strangers—armed with nothing but a devil-may-care attitude, from the looks of it—with his life, considering his extremely strong sense of self-preservation. but it doesn’t seem like he’s got much of a choice, now, does it? he sighs, utters a prayer under his breath (although he does wonder how much of use that’ll be, considering all the years of sunday mass he’s missed by now—don’t judge him, everyone remembers god when their asses are on the line) before making his way across the grounds, his ‘partner’ only a few steps behind him. yixing wasn’t offered many details and he isn’t bothered enough to ask; if they were completely incompetent, what good would knowing they were completely incompetent do him, after all. so he chooses to wordlessly take his seat and hope for the best, the same type of grey plastic chair used in most under-budgeted public schools across south korea set up just for him, out here, right in the middle of the course. he wants to make a sarcastic remark about how they really shouldn’t have, metaphorically bites his tongue instead. he’s got bigger issues to worry about.

WHAT CAN YOU DO, WHAT CAN YOU DO?  WEAR A RED HEART?  RIP IT IN TWO?

kitsune physiology - user with this ability can transform into a fox spirit, otherwise known as a kitsune, who usually gain their powers by living long and keep growing stronger as they age: the more tails a kitsune has (they may have as many as nine) the older, wiser, and more powerful it is.

fox-fire manipulation; wonwoo’s fox fire manifests as fire out of the other variations of manifestations, which can in turn, burn him if he is not focused and the fire becomes the master. it is much more intense than regular orange flames and like all other fires can be put out by water.

semi-immortality/decelerated ageing; wonwoo ages slower with his mutation. he is also not as easy to kill but definitely can still be killed via more extreme methods.

claw retraction; fox trait. able to project and retract claws on will.

tail manifestation; fox trait. tail manifests when any ability is used (with or without will), can be retracted or projected on will when not using any abilities too.

general enhancement; enhanced durability (doesn’t get injured easily), enhanced strength, enhanced senses (hearing and smell),

[LOCKED] general enhancement; enhanced endurance (ability to operate on low power settings; resist sleep, hunger, etc), enhanced senses (night vision)

[LOCKED] flight (levitating, gliding, flying even)

[LOCKED] life force absorption (sucking out the life force of living things for oneself)

[LOCKED] possession

LIMITS, LIMITS, LIMITS -- THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS A CREATURE LIMITLESS.

&& wonwoo’s fox-fire manifests as fire out of the many other manifests and it is fully possible for him to burn himself if he is not concentrating or focused and the fire becomes the owner instead.

&& wonwoo is only able to generate and control his own fox fire, not all other fire so he can still be burnt by regular fire that he has no way to manipulation. (not like the power of fire manipulation where one can manipulate all kinds of fire.)

&& since wonwoo’s fox fire has the same weakness as regular fire, wonwoo is essentially useless in large puddles of water or wet. for wonwoo to properly use his fox fire again, he has to evaporate the water or just simply dry himself such that fire and water no longer clash.

&& though with kitsune physiology comes semi-immortality and decelerated ageing, it is still possible for wonwoo to die through more extreme methods. it is simply that he will not die easily or succumb to ways that will kill a human as easily. neither will he age as per normal.

&& if used his mutation for a long span of time doing rigorous activities/exhausting himself, the backlash is muscle cramps (enhanced strength/durability) or pain/injuries associated to the area he exhausted (ear - enhanced hearing).  

WHO ARE YOU?  WHO ARE YOU? TELL ME, CONFIDENTLY, WHO ARE YOU?

1. WHAT DO YOU FEAR?

as far as the eye can spot, there’s nothing but lines and lines of graves; neatly arranged, old and cobweb-ridden, long forgotten. and then there’s wonwoo, standing in the field of graves, accompanied by nothing. the graves have familiar names engraved on it but just in case wonwoo’s brain could not figure out who exactly they were, his relationship to them is engraved in tiny prints as well. they are six feet under but wonwoo is here, still alive, still young. he was left behind.  

2. WHAT ARE YOUR DREAMS?

there’s warmth enveloping him, a hand on his head and laughter fills his ears. it’s bright and warm. wonwoo leans into the touch, flowers blooming in his chest. then there’s a voice, a shrill scream that haunts him till this day and everything is gone. it’s cold and painful and there’s red everywhere. when wonwoo meets a pair of eyes after snapping his neck around, all the sounds filter in and the comment is reduced to nothing but a whisper. “monster.”  

3. WHAT KIND OF FUCKWAD ARE YOU? (EVERYONE’S AN ASSHOLE)

sloth. more often found asleep or zoning out, wonwoo is the type of person who will push back things for an extra minute of sleep and look for the easiest way out of a situation. he dislikes activities that require him to work out or interact mostly because it exhausts him and that’s not exactly desirable. wonwoo is always catching on sleep though he probably sleeps more than enough but he is constantly dosing off or zoning out. it given the chance, wonwoo would rot in his room and not venture out of his comfort zone.

4. WHAT KIND OF GOODY TWOSHOES ARE YOU? (EVERYONE’S A BIT SOFT)

patience. he is not quick to action, rather he listens and considers, weighing the options before making his choice, choosing the path that is the easiest, requires the least effort but not necessarily the best. patience is bitter but the fruit is sweet after all. 

5. WHAT DO YOU REMEMBER? (THERE MUST BE THINGS THAT HAUNT YOU)

i. when he wakes up, it is to a shrill droning siren and pain everywhere. he groans and feels tears welling up. when he sits up enough, he realises there’s red everywhere, on the broken glass, on the seats and on him. then he spots a head of bright pink hair and he shouts because there’s red oozing out from where glass shards has planted itself in his sister’s face.

ii. they say it’s a tragedy, a horrible accident that killed an excited family on their way to their holiday destination. they say that the entire family died in the accident, missing out how wonwoo is kept under surveillance because he emerged largely unscathed unlike the rest of his family who died on impact when the car crashed itself into the treetops and then the ground.

iii. wonwoo moves into sunny peak after hope’s peak was burnt to the ground by those who think of people like him as monsters and abnormalities. just because they are slightly different. wonwoo wants to see their faces when they become a monster themselves. he despises their attitude and words but who is he kidding, he is a monster.

WHAT WILL YOU DO, WHAT WILL YOU DO?  WHEN THE BIG MAN IN BLACK COMES RUNNING FOR YOU?