What if-
What if I were a fanfiction writer?
Title: Never Been
Fandom: Xiaolin Showdown
Pairing(s): Jack Spicer / Chase Young
Rating: PG
Description: As a bit of a drabble, the contemplated story of Chase Young.
Chase Young had never been a gentle man.
Even as a child he had been rough. Callused fingers as soon as he had the strength to grip a stick. Strong muscles as soon as he was tall enough to run and jump and play at kung fu and sword fighting. So innocent in his roughness, he tempered it, and grew into a fine warrior. He was a fighter, a monk, tempered steel under the hands of his teachers, a blade for justice.
A fighter with fire and passion, a Xiaolin Dragon.
He was never good enough for anyone.
He was never good enough for himself.
Chase Young had never been the best, the first, of anything. As a child, he lived in the shadow of his elders, students and teachers alike. He grew, surpassed then, then lived in the shadow of his friends. He was rough, within, but they wore at his outer edges, to make of him a smooth pebble. It was enough, for a time, to be simply good, rather than good enough. Train hard, little dragon, and you will surpass him too, as you surpassed the others in time. But, even before he'd been Chase Young, he'd never been the most patient of men. He was never patient enough to last, nor thick-skinned enough to see the admiring stares, the glory heaped upon those near him. So close and yet, so far, the adoration he craved, needed, close enough to touch, but forever beyond his reach.
Guan. Guan, who had been his friend, who was strong and brave and beautiful. Guan who never hesitated to do what was right, who trained as hard as he, but somehow grown enough better that even common people could see it. It was intolerable, painful, to watch him treated as leader, as the dragon rather than one of several. The one who would be Chase Young stood, stoic, for years, but no man can last long in the face of an intolerable situation, not when all he can see is an endless string of the same ahead of him. Endless days of straining and striving and failing, like an interminable necklace of gray glass beads stretching unto death.
And so, he renamed himself Chase Young, and became a different kind of dragon.
Chase Young had never been a complacent man, but it would have taken more than he had to not feel smug in the glow of power. For a long time he thought himself free of the looming desire, the unbalanced ache of need never assuaged. Satisfied with his new strength and vigor and immortality, it took very little to convince himself of his perfection.
But, Chase Young had never truly been perfect.
Eventually, he despaired. Where before the days of his life had stood as gray tasteless beads set on the short string of his lifetime, now they were hollow black seeds strung out into eternity. Eternal youth, eternal strength, eternal loneliness as anyone he might have loved sneered and reviled him, and those drawn by his power sought only to steal it.
And those that might, in time, have come to adore him fell away, mayfly lifetimes against the slow eternal growth of the lifetime of a dragon. Black, black, black, alone and empty, one week after another. Battles had once been constant, now they were less and less again. Now they meant nothing, won with ease.
And then, something new.
Chase Young had never been a gentle man, but suddenly he found himself imagining gentle things. To compensate, he'd become rougher, saying harsh words, hurting this new one, this boy. Brusque manner and uncaring tone became true hostility, blooming under his ire. Why should I be soft, he told himself, why should I desire gentleness?
Chase Young had never been patient, but now he schooled himself in it. Patience without intention, unmeaning, unthinking, he forced himself to wait, out of ire. He never thought to wonder why he was savoring this, even when annoyance at himself, and at the boy turned to love as slowly as falling asleep in midwinter.
Chase Young was no longer complacent.
And now, stroking gentle, callused-rough fingers along soft, pliant skin so long savored and waited and unknowingly longed for, Chase Young, who'd never really been perfect saw that shining perfection reflected in ruby-red eyes. It sang siren-sweet between pale lips, in every breath and twitch and heartbeat of Spicer's thin, soft little body beneath his. He felt it singing in his blood, pressed so near within. It was everything he'd wanted, even so long ago, this boy. None other had ever seen him through these eyes, and named him un-shadowed, unsurpassed, and perfect, Chase Young.
....that was actually sort of fun!
Title: Never Been
Fandom: Xiaolin Showdown
Pairing(s): Jack Spicer / Chase Young
Rating: PG
Description: As a bit of a drabble, the contemplated story of Chase Young.
Chase Young had never been a gentle man.
Even as a child he had been rough. Callused fingers as soon as he had the strength to grip a stick. Strong muscles as soon as he was tall enough to run and jump and play at kung fu and sword fighting. So innocent in his roughness, he tempered it, and grew into a fine warrior. He was a fighter, a monk, tempered steel under the hands of his teachers, a blade for justice.
A fighter with fire and passion, a Xiaolin Dragon.
He was never good enough for anyone.
He was never good enough for himself.
Chase Young had never been the best, the first, of anything. As a child, he lived in the shadow of his elders, students and teachers alike. He grew, surpassed then, then lived in the shadow of his friends. He was rough, within, but they wore at his outer edges, to make of him a smooth pebble. It was enough, for a time, to be simply good, rather than good enough. Train hard, little dragon, and you will surpass him too, as you surpassed the others in time. But, even before he'd been Chase Young, he'd never been the most patient of men. He was never patient enough to last, nor thick-skinned enough to see the admiring stares, the glory heaped upon those near him. So close and yet, so far, the adoration he craved, needed, close enough to touch, but forever beyond his reach.
Guan. Guan, who had been his friend, who was strong and brave and beautiful. Guan who never hesitated to do what was right, who trained as hard as he, but somehow grown enough better that even common people could see it. It was intolerable, painful, to watch him treated as leader, as the dragon rather than one of several. The one who would be Chase Young stood, stoic, for years, but no man can last long in the face of an intolerable situation, not when all he can see is an endless string of the same ahead of him. Endless days of straining and striving and failing, like an interminable necklace of gray glass beads stretching unto death.
And so, he renamed himself Chase Young, and became a different kind of dragon.
Chase Young had never been a complacent man, but it would have taken more than he had to not feel smug in the glow of power. For a long time he thought himself free of the looming desire, the unbalanced ache of need never assuaged. Satisfied with his new strength and vigor and immortality, it took very little to convince himself of his perfection.
But, Chase Young had never truly been perfect.
Eventually, he despaired. Where before the days of his life had stood as gray tasteless beads set on the short string of his lifetime, now they were hollow black seeds strung out into eternity. Eternal youth, eternal strength, eternal loneliness as anyone he might have loved sneered and reviled him, and those drawn by his power sought only to steal it.
And those that might, in time, have come to adore him fell away, mayfly lifetimes against the slow eternal growth of the lifetime of a dragon. Black, black, black, alone and empty, one week after another. Battles had once been constant, now they were less and less again. Now they meant nothing, won with ease.
And then, something new.
Chase Young had never been a gentle man, but suddenly he found himself imagining gentle things. To compensate, he'd become rougher, saying harsh words, hurting this new one, this boy. Brusque manner and uncaring tone became true hostility, blooming under his ire. Why should I be soft, he told himself, why should I desire gentleness?
Chase Young had never been patient, but now he schooled himself in it. Patience without intention, unmeaning, unthinking, he forced himself to wait, out of ire. He never thought to wonder why he was savoring this, even when annoyance at himself, and at the boy turned to love as slowly as falling asleep in midwinter.
Chase Young was no longer complacent.
And now, stroking gentle, callused-rough fingers along soft, pliant skin so long savored and waited and unknowingly longed for, Chase Young, who'd never really been perfect saw that shining perfection reflected in ruby-red eyes. It sang siren-sweet between pale lips, in every breath and twitch and heartbeat of Spicer's thin, soft little body beneath his. He felt it singing in his blood, pressed so near within. It was everything he'd wanted, even so long ago, this boy. None other had ever seen him through these eyes, and named him un-shadowed, unsurpassed, and perfect, Chase Young.
....that was actually sort of fun!