#But I think I sound good on medium speed and tone

[idontliketomatoesleavemealone]

I really like my singing voice rn

[juniperskye]

Until I Found You

***Potential spoilers of The Rookie***

Pairing: John Nolan x Fem Reader

Sneak Peek: After his breakup with Bailey, John is convinced he will never fall in love again…that is until he found you. (This is taking place pre TO Nolan) Reader owns a Café (food truck).

Fluff/Angst

Word count: 2851

Warnings: Reader has kind of spooky vibes, no use of y/n, Implied age gap, mention of food and eating (no explicit details), brief mention of crime (no explicit details), mention of past relationships, mention of unhealthy relationships, mention of getting ready for a date (details are feminine leaning – shaving, makeup, nails, hairstyling), developing strong feelings quickly, one teeny tiny kiss.

Not edited - please be kind.

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

After his breakup with Bailey, John was convinced he wouldn’t find love again. How would it be fair for him to have had love with Sarah, Lucy, Jessica, Grace, Bailey and for him to expect it again. His love with each of those women differed from one another, but they all had played a very important role in his life. For the last few months John had really just been going through the motions; sleep, work, eat, repeat.

Today had been a particularly slow day on the job for John, very unusual for the LAPD. He had been riding alone today which was honestly making the day drag on even more so. He was counting down the minutes until lunch – at least then he would get to socialize with his fellow officers.

Two speeding tickets, one robbery and a stolen car later, it was finally time for lunch. Heading to their usual spot, John notices that there is a new food truck parked, black with orange script on the side spelling out “Hallowed Grounds” alongside little white painted bats. John’s eyes were drawn to this truck not because it is new, or that the line was at least fifteen people long, but because of the beautiful person running the window.

It was Lucy who had ultimately broken John out of the trance he was in.

“Hey, you okay? You were spaced out there for a second.” Lucy questioned.

“Huh? Yeah, I’m okay. What’s with the new truck?” John wanted to see how much Lucy knew without giving away the attraction he was feeling towards this stranger.

“Oh! It is all over social media, Hallowed Grounds, it is mostly coffee, but the pastries are to die for! I mean literally that is their slogan!” Lucy laughed.

“The line is pretty long, so it must be good. Should we check it out?”

“Sounds good to me!”

With that, John and Lucy made their way to the line. Lucy was talking John’s ear off about some new social media drama, but honestly John wasn’t listening, he was far too distracted by your beauty and the honey sweet tone of your voice. You had this way about you that was breathtaking, moving with grace and just so patient and kind to all the patrons who had been waiting in line. They were finally nearing the front of the line, and John had realized he hadn’t even looked at the menu.

“Hi there! What can I get for you?” You smiled at him.

“Hi, can I get a medium caramel latte and a lemon blueberry scone?” Lucy ordered with no hesitation.

“Of course! And for you?” You looked expectantly at John.

“I um, can I just get a black coffee and, no that’s all.” John stuttered.

Lucy looked over at him confused as she paid, and they walked over to stand near the pickup window. John took note of you disappearing from the window and a young man taking your place.

“Okay, I know that we did not just stand in that long line just for you to order a black coffee. What is up with you?” Lucy questioned John. “OH MY GOD! You think she’s cute, don’t you?”

“Okay, hush! I’d rather not scare the girl off before I even get a chance to talk to her.”

“Okay sorry! I’m just happy for you. You’ve been sulking ever since you and Bailey broke things off.”

“I have not been sulking…okay maybe I have. But I really thought she was it for me.”

“John and Lucy?” You called.

They made their way up to the window to pick up their orders.

“Alright Lucy, a caramel latte and a lemon blueberry scone, and for John a black coffee and a chocolate croissant.” I hope you guys have a wonderful day and stay safe!”

“Oh, I didn’t…” John started.

“Thank you so much, you have a wonderful day too!” Lucy cut John off and began to drag him away from the truck.

The two of them went to sit at a table with Tim, Aaron and Nyla for the rest of their lunch. They were all hoping it wouldn’t be cut short by a call coming in.

“Alright Nolan!” Aaron exclaimed as John sat down.

“What? What did I do?”

“The bag. The barista gave you her number!”

John turned the bag around and sure enough your name and phone number had been neatly printed along with a little heart. John looked at Tim, then Nyla and finally to Lucy. He hadn’t been expecting you to give him your number, especially not after he had made a complete fool of himself in front of you just moments before.

Just as Lucy was about to encourage him to text you, a call came ringing in over the radios. Everyone was quick to get up and head to their respective shops. John heard Tim and Lucy radio that they were responding, and that Nyla and Aaron were acting as backup. He figured they had it covered, and he would continue to patrol, but not before adding you into his contacts.

Three days.

It was three days before John had gathered the courage to text you. He hadn’t seen you either, since he’d worked through lunch one of the days, had a pretty big drug bust on the second day, and was assigned to the front desk on the third day. Today though, he had the day off and now was his time to text you and see if you would want to go on a date with him.

John: Hey, this is John. From the other day.

You: Hi! I was beginning to think that maybe I was too forward.

John: Oh, no, not at all! I’m sorry, things have just been really busy with work. I finally have a day off.

You: Okay, good! I’m sorry work has been keeping you busy. Hopefully you’ve been able to stay safe.

John: I have. Nothing too out of the ordinary this week. How have you been?

You: I’ve been good! I have been testing some new recipes and trying to figure out what to swap in for the fall season.

You: Speaking of which…would you like to be a taste tester for me? I could really use a customer’s perspective!

John: I would love to! By the way, that croissant was incredible. I was actually texting you to ask you to dinner.

You: Yeah, dinner and then we can go back to mine to try these desserts?

You: Wow that was also very forward…I’m not usually like this by the way!

John: No worries. I won’t read into it I promise. So tonight, can I pick you up at 7?

You: 7 is perfect, see you then John!

After confirming your plans with John, you kicked it into high gear. It was 10:07 a.m. and you had a lot to do before you’d be ready to go. You really needed to get your nails done, you needed to finish the 6 different pastries you’d been working on, and you’d really need to shower before you could get ready.

After doing some quick math in your head, you figured that you would have just enough time to get everything done provided you shower while some things were baking in the oven. With that, you place the pre-cut cookie dough into the freezer (these would be easy enough to pull out and bake later when you and John go back), you placed the muffins and two different loaves of bread in the oven. That just left the cake that you were actively frosting and the pie that was cooling. Once the cake was thoroughly iced, you threw the dishes in the dishwasher and headed towards the shower, not without checking your timer to make sure you’d have ample time.

You were sure to go through all the steps of what you’d consider a full shower, washing and conditioning your hair, washing your body with your best smelling body wash, and shaving essentially every inch of your body. You weren’t anticipating that anything would happen tonight, but you wanted to be prepared nonetheless and you’d make sure at the very least that you smelled good.

After drying off and throwing on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, you made way for the kitchen just in time to pull out the muffins and the bread. You set them out on the cooling rack, turned the oven off and then you headed to your favorite nail salon. They were able to get you in right away seeing as it was 12:00 p.m. on a Thursday.

Your nail appointment ended at about 1:30 p.m., which gave you enough time to head over and check on your staff and the truck. Upon arrival you noticed there were a few police cruisers parked along the curb. You knew John was off today, but you still found yourself scanning the crowd for him.  

“He’s not here.” Your staff, Ezra, had called over to you.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” You tried to hide your blush, embarrassed about getting caught looking for John. Ezra was the one who had encouraged you to give him your number in the first place, having seen how smitten you were with John when you’d met him the other day. Ezra and you had been friends for years, he could read you better than anyone.

“Mmhmm, sure thing. It was a different group this time around. What are you up to? Aren’t you supposed to be off testing new pastries?” Ezra questioned you.

“I was doing exactly that when John texted me and asked me out! I went and got my nails done and figured I would stop by and see how things were going before I went back home and got ready for my date.”

“OH MY GOD! See I told you that if you gave him your number, he’d ask you out. There were definite vibes the other day, he was so enamored by you that he forgot to look at the menu!” Ezra gushed.

“Okay, fine. You were right. I’m kind of nervous, he’s taking me to dinner, then we’re going back to my place so he can taste the new desserts and give me his opinions on them.”

“Girl, you are going to be fine! He seems nice and you are an amazing person, no reason to be nervous. Plus, what have you got to lose?” Ezra had always been your voice of reason in times of need.

“Okay, yeah. I should probably get going then so I can get ready.”

“Okay babe, have a great night! OH and you should wear the outfit you wore to our opening party, it screams you and its hot!”

“Oh, that was a good outfit, I don’t know where he’s taking me yet, but it should be dressy enough.”

You said your goodbyes to Ezra and made your way back home. It was nearing 3:30 p.m. and you knew you should probably start getting ready. You grabbed a glass of water and then got to styling your hair. You curled your hair and applied some natural looking makeup and went to get dressed. To pair with the faux leather skirt and starry mesh top, you slid on some black tights, comfy socks and your Doc Martens. Looking over at your alarm clock you see 6:45p.m. glowing red and you decide to switch to a smaller purse in the time you have left before your date…your usual everyday tote bag not exactly matching this outfit choice. You’d opted for a small leather handbag, with gold accents, it matched your outfit perfectly and was better suited for the occasion. As soon as you organized everything into the purse a knock sounded at the door. You took a deep breath then walked to answer it.

“Hi!” You greeted John as you opened the door.

“Wow, you look incredible.” John was awestruck, you had such a different style than the women he had previously dated, but he was really loving it. You were so confident in your own skin, and you just had this glow about you.

“Thank you, you look very handsome.”

“Shall we?” John gestured to his truck.

You nodded and the two of you walked around to the passenger side. John opened the door for you then offered his hand to assist you into the truck.

“Such a gentleman.”

John blushed at the compliment, he tried to shake it off as he started the truck and pulled out of your driveway. You made small talk on your way to the restaurant, which ended up being a very nice steakhouse.

John parked and looked over to you, he made note of the way you were inspecting the sign, and immediately panicked.

“I probably should have asked and made sure you weren’t a vegetarian!”

“I’m not! I love a good steak; my dad is a self-proclaimed grill master!” You laughed.

John laughed with you and let out a sigh of relief. He once again opened your door for you and reached to help you out of the truck. He was so different form the men you had dated before, so polite and caring. He listened to what you had to say and even asked you questions to learn more about you. It was so refreshing to be around someone like him. Truth is, you had dated some pretty terrible people in the past and that was the main reason you were single now. You’d decided to take a break from dating and focus on yourself and your career, which is how you’d gotten to the point of owning a very successful food truck. You had explained to John that your end goal is to have a brick-and-mortar location of Hallowed Grounds that was a café/bookstore. You wanted to create a cozy space for people to hangout while they enjoyed good food.

John just sat and smiled, he loved how you lit up when you spoke about it. Seeing you so passionate about something was honestly inspiring. He hadn’t expected the feelings for you to be so immediate, so strong, just crashing to the surface as the night went on. John could feel himself growing concerned about whether or not you were feeling as strongly for him as he was for you. The two of you had just clicked and it was so effortless.

What John didn’t know is you were currently battling the same demons. Was it really possible to be this comfortable with someone after such a short time?

Dinner had passed far too quickly for either of your likings, you were honestly just glad that you had already planned to continue this evening. You weren’t ready to say goodnight to John just yet. As John drove you back to your place, he took a risk by reaching for your hand to hold, you were quick to slide your hand into his and you couldn’t help but blush. John couldn’t believe how soft your hand was and it made him think about how rough his must be from his years as a contractor, he shook the thought away as you gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

You made it back to your place relatively quickly and John once again made sure to assist you on the passenger side, only this time instead of offering you his hand, he was a little bolder. He’d placed his hands on your waist and slowly helped you out of the truck. You stood there, chest to chest, your breath hitching from the proximity. Your gazes danced over one another’s face, shifting from eyes to lips back to eyes, silently asking for permission. When you slightly tilted your head, John understood and reached his right hand up to cup your jaw as he brought you in for a kiss. The kiss lasted for what felt like forever but ended far too soon. You wanted to exist in this moment infinitely.

You and John held hands once again as you staggered to the door. You made quick work of the lock and invited him in, guiding him to the kitchen.

“You ready to try some desserts?” You asked.

“Absolutely!” John replied.

You blushed, realizing the double entendre and moved to get all the desserts plated up. You explained to John that you’d need to throw the cookies in the oven, but they only took about 10 minutes to cook. He nodded and asked if you needed any help with anything, which you declined and encouraged him to relax.

John watched as you worked in the kitchen, this had been your element and it was like a well-choreographed dance, the way you moved. He couldn’t help but smile to himself, picturing the two of you like this, years down the road. He knew that you had only just met, but after tonight he couldn’t deny the connection. He realized he had been wrong when he said he would never fall in love again. That was true, until he met you.

[intoloopin-archive]

LOOP GOES DISCO #1 - "THE LAST PIT OF HELL IS AN ASSHOLE'S HOTEL BATHROOM."

A SERIES REWRITE OF DISCARDED SCENES USING DISCO ELYSIUM GAME MECHANICS/LINGO.

TWS: Drug use. Cursing. Self deprecating language. Fighting. Forced vomiting. Blood. Feelings being expressed weirdly at inappropriate times (???).

CONTEXT: This is rewrite of a missing scene from END AT ME: it's a glimpse at the Hell party that caused Minwoo to call Taesong on July 14th going 15th + what proceeded the final motel scene by 4 to 6 hours.

starring: Bang Minwoo. Xu 'J.J' Jiahang.

word account: 3.8K / 3,848 words.

writer's note: OKAY, SO! To anyone who's unfamiliar on how DE functions, fear not: this works as it's own thing. But to hopefully get you into the right mood, I'll link a video to the game's intro as well as the skill sheet out of detail so you can grasp what's being evoked here. Most skills have been adapted to fit this new setting and Minwoo's own psychology anyway, so understanding how they function in game or not (hopefully!) won't take away from any fun of this psyche dive. With that being said! Good read! This is the most fun I had all week!

THE ASSHOLE’S HOTEL BATHROOM - Filled with too many soap cabinets and a candelabra for a lamp – things of value but no *practical use* – the Asshole’s Hotel Bathroom looks exactly like you expect it to. To put it simply it's a fancy, cold and soulless shit deposit.

REACTION SPEED (Easy: Success) - Like your goddamn man.

EMPATHY (Challenging: Success) - Like *them*, your man’s ‘friends’, who share no traits with him. Not an hinch of loyalty to anything or anyone.

YOU - You inspect Jiahang, the said man – just a man, his own man – that you have an arm's hold of, dragging along behind you. He doesn’t want to come into the Asshole’s Hotel Bathroom, of course not. He doesn’t want to leave The Party and its Party People either, but he must be surgically extracted from them. He must be attended to, immediately.

ESPRIT DE CORPS (Medium: Fail) - You still have no idea why he jumped on to take what the asshole man offered you, why he tried to bargain your way out of the room at the expense of his already too dazed system, with a dry gulp of a too big pill ill meant for you, putting on a show so you could leave.

INTERFACING (Easy: Success) - As if you would ever choose to escape out of any Hell without him – as if you could make out of any labyrinth without your North Star.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY (Easy: Success) - God, he’s beautiful even while bone deep in physical discomfort. That’s art in real fucking staggering movements, all live, full color. He has mastered the sweet, sweet pain it takes to *be* music. He has beat you at your own game, Minwoo love. Beat you right up. *Beat you good*.

LOGIC (Easy: Success) - Whatever is that he swallowed, he needs it out of his system. Now.

YOU - You lock the door behind you, let his pulse go. You both stand in discrepant different examples of equilibrium at the center of the room.

VISUAL CALCULUS (Easy: Success) - The toilet has its lid already set open, like a paid extra.

“What were you thinking?!”

“You need to throw up. *Now*.”

No talking. No time to waste. Reach forward. Be of help.

YOU - You take an unfocused step forward, leaving two feet between Jiahang and you. The proximity accomplishes nothing: your fingers trail millimeters over his chest, failing to check anything, just shaking.

JIAHANG - "Minwoo hyung, c’mon… Calm down, okay, calm down… I can… take it, I’m alright…," Jiahang’s marijuana voice is something deeper in tone and lighter in sound, close to a whisper. He takes pauses to hold in anxious, misplaced laughs. “It’s not my… First rodeo, so… Calm down…”

LOGIC (Easy: Success) - He’s not new to drugs, that’s what he meant. Both in general, and with today’s doctor’s prescription: weed, cocaine, maybe, and the other thing, the white pill.

ENCYCLOPEDIA (Easy: Success) - You knew this already. You pretended not to, for someone’s sake – you don’t remember who, now – but it’s become obvious to you early on. How could it not when it’s *you*, a Guryo son who knows what to seek for when telling… *high risk riders* apart from any crowd.

LOGIC (Easy: Success) - And yet you did nothing to put a stop to it. You let it come to this. This is as much as your fault as it is the asshole man’s. You’re a fucking asshole man, Asshole Man.

YOU - Your head bends downwards, away from him, away from direct view.

INLAND EMPIRE (Medium: Success) - Because it pains you; the sight of him pains you. It always has. Every inch of his body is a light that cuts right through your retinas, close to being fatal.

DRAMA (Easy: Success) - By God, he’s made you just as blind as the piano and guitar have. *He really is music*.

“Why are you, out of everyone, making stupid fucking decisions?!”

Give me something else. I won’t say that.

YOU - Give me something else. I won’t say that.

HALF LIGHT (Challenging: Fail) - Oh? And why the fuck not?

It’s not what he needs to fucking hear now, shit Head!

The night’s been already harsh enough. Try to be kind or something, fuck Hell.

Please, *please* don’t make me say it. I don’t wanna say it.

YOU - It’s not what he needs to fucking hear now, shit Head!

HALF LIGHT (Challenging: Fail) - Well, fuck-o, this is all you got. Have you forgotten who you are? You’re a brute and ruthless son of a gun. Shoot-words-to-kill, that’s the Bang Minwoo pattern of speech. You know nothing else.

“Why are you, out of everyone, making stupid fucking decisions?!”

[COMPOSURE CHECK: IMPOSSIBLE (3% CHANCE).] Breath.

[LOGIC CHECK: GODLY (27% CHANCE).] Come up with something else. Something soothing. *Anything*.

LOGIC CHECK: FAILURE. - As you search your oceanic brain for a cohesive, less deadly set of words, you find nothing but a dark void and the defeating sound of static. You’re tongue tied. You’re jaw set. You’re furious. You’re terrified. You’re only half inside your own body.

PAIN THRESHOLD (Impossible: Fail) - The smell of urine and powder mixed together, coming straight off the toilet to your nose. The sensation of being too small, too impotent inside a big room that you’ve never seen so big. The body of a loved one shivering close, mad with fever.

INLAND EMPIRE (Challenging: Fail) - It’s all too familiar, isn’t it now, crack baby?

[-1 MORALE.]

THE AWARENESS OF THE LOOP - TIME IS A FLAT FUCKING CIRCLE, AND YOU DREW ITS LINE THEN, AND YOU DREW ITS LINE NOW!

“Why are you, out of everyone, making stupid fucking decisions?!”

[COMPOSURE CHECK: IMPOSSIBLE (1% CHANCE).] Breath.

COMPOSURE CHECK: EPIC FAIL. - Thinking of breathing only makes your breathing worse. Stop. Thinking. Of. It. STOP. IMMEDIATELY.

[-1 PHYSICAL.]

“Why are you, out of everyone, making stupid fucking decisions?!”

YOU - “Why are you, out of everyone, making stupid fucking decisions?!”

JIAHANG - Slowly, as if he’s hearing you with a 15 second delay, Jiahang looks up at you with his big stars for eyes, embedded in a sea of red. “What..?”

“You–! Jesus Christ, you fucking heard me, Jiahang!”

YOU - “You–! Jesus Christ, you fucking heard me, Jiahang!”

“I can’t deal with you having a crash, I can’t witness that sort of *shit*! You know why I fucking can’t!”

YOU - “I can’t deal with you having a goddamn crash, I can’t witness that sort of *shit*! You know why I fucking can’t!”

JIAHANG - The delay’s gone, it seems: in front of you, Jiahang flinches, withers, pressing his tiny lips close together.

AUTHORITY (Challenging: Success) - BE CALM. He’s scared, but not of you – only of himself, what he’s done, and what you might think of him now.

EMPATHY (Medium: Success) - And he’s ashamed of what he took you back to, now that he realizes – the razor sharp flashes of your once uncle seem to flow between you telepathically.

THE BLURRY PHOTO INSIDE YOUR WALLET - *GOODSPEED, BANG WOOHYUN – BELOVED BROTHER, ADORED SON, TRUE FATHER. AND MAY GOD LAY YOU TO REST KINDLY.*

CONCEPTUALIZATION (Medium: Success) - He’s always scared of what people might think of him. It’s his Achilles tendon. When it comes to you, the fear of letting down goes hand in hand with an old, too familiar grief.

UNTRACEABLE RUSH OF DOPAMINE - Tell him. Tell him what we think of him, now and always. It’s time.

“I just don’t get– You or, or! You’re supposed to be music, for shit’s sake! Whatever the fuck that means!”

Don’t make me do this to me now.

I don’t fucking know what I think, alright?! Not about him, not about anything anymore! *I don’t know!* And I don’t want to know! I don’t give a shit! I never fucking have!

YOU - I don’t fucking know what I think, alright?! Not about him, not about anything anymore! *I don’t know!* And I don’t want to know! I don’t give a shit! I never fucking have!

DRAMA (Easy: Success) - Alright, sire, alright. Don’t open the Pandora’s Box that is your stone heart, if you’re too much of a pussy to see what’s been growing inside. Suit your weak self, take the coward’s road. Just be careful not to fall too hard while embarking on this deep, deep sink of yours into that old, old Egyptian river.

ENCYCLOPEDIA (Legendary: Success) - That old Egyptian river is called the Nile river. Say it's determiner and name three times quickly out loud. The joke writes itself.

INLAND EMPIRE (Easy: Success) - Not a easier joke to decipher than *you*, of course, Bang Man.

JIAHANG - It takes him a while, but Jiahang eventually recovers; straightens his spine up, grows back to big. “If you can’t see it, then… leave, then. You can… do that. You brought me my bag, I– I took the *thing* for you, you’re free– free to go. So go on. Turn around, just turn– turn around, if that’s what… what you want so bad!”

[VOLITION RED CHECK: IMPOSSIBLE (0% CHANCE). YOU CAN’T RETRY IT.] Leave.

I can’t leave him.

“I can’t leave you!”

YOU - I can’t leave him.

PERCEPTION (Heroic: Fail) - Ah, yes. That you have no strength to do. It's as simple as that.

“I can’t leave you – not like this!”

“I can’t leave you – not with them!”

“I just *can’t leave you*!”

YOU - “I can’t leave you, Jiahang – not like this!”

JIAHANG - You see a frown show up on his forehead as he mouths ‘like this’, like it’s an insult, but doesn’t say it. What he does say is a frustrated, confused plea of, “Then what, Minwoo? Then *what*?!”

HAND/EYE COORDINATION (Easy: Success) - Oh, sire. You know exactly what you must do.

[SUGGESTION CHECK: FORMIDABLE (38% CHANCE).] Convince Jiahang to throw up. Keep talking. He’s giving in.

[REACTION SPEED CHECK: CHALLENGING (65% CHANCE).] Make him throw up. You’ve lost too much damn time already with all this fucking talking.

[PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT RED CHECK: IMPOSSIBLE (1% CHANCE). YOU CAN’T RETRY IT.] Shove him into the bathtub and turn on the ice cold shower. Let the thermal shock overwhelm him, then make him throw up there. It’s risky, but it feels like the way.

REACTION SPEED CHECK: FAIL. You raise your arms and grab him suddenly by the elbows, catching him visibly by surprise – and it all goes quickly downhill from there.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT (Challenging: Epic Fail) - Your limbs struggle to make him bend any way, let alone to the direction of the toilet or the floor. Under your feet, the humid ground keeps you from grounding yourself enough to make any of this work. Nothing’s in your favor. You realize your mistake too late.

RHETORIC (Easy: Success) - You should have thought this through. Jiahang is, after all, much taller than you – and much too cherished for your hands to dare squeeze or scratch.

YOU - Your fingers let go without you telling them to. Bad equilibrium disrupted, Jiahang slips on the wet tiles and falls sideways, head bumping with the toilet’s unforgiving ceramic, nose first, sound second: a horrible cry out of pain you heard just once.

[CRITICAL MORALE DAMAGE.]

[CRITICAL PHYSICAL DAMAGE.]

YOU - DEAR GOD. MY DEAR GOD.

EMPATHY (Medium: Success): DON’T SHUT DOWN – YOU CAN’T. IT MAKES YOU MORE VICIOUS. YOU DIDN’T MEAN TO: HE MUST KNOW YOU DIDN’T MEAN TO. RUSH TO PROVE IT– HELP!

JUMP TO HELP!

YOU - YOU JUMP TO HELP! You’re on your knees quicker than you’ve ever been, palming his back, his shoulder.

JIAHANG - He glimpses at you sideways, then hides his face away, turning it to the opposite side. A lonely stream of blood drips from his left nostril, and he rushes to cover it with his trembling hand. You notice; you hear a sob.

RETHORIC (Heroic: Fail) - You’re a wordsmitch, fuck face, or are you not?! SAY SOMETHING. FIX THIS.

“Fuck, you– You didn’t give me *any other choice*, like!!!”

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m so sorry so so sorry I’m sorry sorry!!!!!!”

Fuck it. Focus on the mission. Put your fingers down his throat. Count damages later.

YOU - Make the worst worth it, you think, as you scoopes his face in.

LOGIC (Medium: Fail) - Will it even accomplish anything? The white pill’s been in his system for over 20 minutes, not to mention all the rest, a pool party of shit in his bloodstream. Anyhow: better safe than sorry, you assume – you pray.

YOU - You fight to get your fingers into his mouth, meet a wall of teeth, a resistence of tongue; it opens after you let out a small curse, like a castle’s gate.

SUGGESTION (Easy: Success) - So *this* is how it feels.

PERCEPTION (Medium: Success) - Under you, he’s stopped moving. Jiahang has no real strength or deep desire to push you out or hurt you. He might even understand the invasion, under the haze; be grateful for it, even.

YOU - You feel it when it comes, a stream of bile. You remove your hand and wipes it on your trousers, sees Jiahang bending over to sit and spill sick yellow vomit for seconds, a minute.

ENCYCLOPEDIA (Easy: Success) - Even though you’ve hurt him not a second ago – it wasn’t even the first time, either – he hasn’t bitten a single finger of yours off when he had the chance. Not a follower of the Eye For an Eye school of thinking, this pupil of yours, despite your suffocating influence. That’s good. You’re nothing but a bad preacher of a bad religion.

JIAHANG - When he’s done spitting and coughing, Jiahang begins to curl into himself, turning into a quiet small ball on the floor, too close to the release pool.

“I’m sorry. It was the only way– I’m sorry.”

“Jiahang-ah, please, let me take a look at you – Let me look at you, *please*.”

[AUTHORITY CHECK: EASY. 92% CHANCE.] “Show me your nose, now.”

AUTHORITY CHECK: SUCCESS.

YOU - “Show me your nose, now.”

PERCEPTION (Easy: Success) - He does, without a fight, lying on the floor with his head facing the ceiling. It’s bad, the bruise – the damage. You help guide him to sit up straight as he can.

YOU - You extend your hand to the side, up– The toilet paper dances off the holder as you push it, and it rolls away. You get enough of it to wrap it over your open palm three times, to make an amateur glove. You wipe the trace of blood off his mouth as gently as you can.

JIAHANG - “I’m such a… mess, just so–!” He cries, suddenly; a dam of tears, hot and uncontainable. “Awful, *awful* thing, disgusting fucking– fucking *thing*!”

“I know. I know exactly what you are.”

“That’s not all there is to you, baby, it’s not all there is to you at all, listen to me, honey, *listen*, **please listen**.”

“You could be worse.”

YOU - “You could be worse.”

JIAHANG - This gets his attention. “How even– Worse how?” Jiahang asks, mid hiccup, mid wail. “Give me one– One fucking example, if you… can. Can you? You *can’t*, can you?!”

SHIVERS (Medium: Success) - Around you and around him, The Party keeps on going, like a nonstop train. Your ears attune themselves to the purr of it – it's a habit. You’re too often outside rooms buzzing with life, only listening in through paper thin walls, missing the experience of it.

EMPATHY (Heroic: Success) - No one has come to check on him, you both have realized – Jiahang a minute faster than you. None of his Party People friends give a flying fuck. The reality is falling down on him like a skyscraper, crushing, breathtaking, killer.

AUTHORITY (Legendary: Success) - LET THE OUTSIDE WORLD GO QUIET. THERE IS SOMETHING HE WANTS TO HEAR YOU SAY.

[REACTION SPEED RED CHECK: IMPOSSIBLE (11% CHANCE.) YOU CAN’T RETRY IT.] Start listing the real world things that are worse than him. (There’s a ton, and you know them intimately – and you know him intimately. Give Jiahang something else to weep for.)

[DRAMA RED CHECK, IMPOSSIBLE (9% CHANCE.) YOU CAN’T RETRY IT.] Start listing the unreal, out of this world things worse than him – the ones you’ve seen in your open eyed dreams. (Not as many options, but a tad lighter. Make the sadness disappear, bring anything close to a laugh back. Be the mad man for a great cause.)

[INLAND EMPIRE RED CHECK: LEGENDARY (26% CHANCE). YOU CAN’T RETRY IT.] “You could be like me. I’m worse than you’ll ever be.” (The truth. It can only hurt you.)

Say nothing.

INLAND EMPIRE CHECK: SUCCESS.

YOU - “You could be like me. I’m worse than you’ll ever be.”

LOGIC (Challenging: Success) - There is nothing worse than you, False Prophet, Fake Noah. Obsessed with connecting melodies, speaking truthfully only through rhyme schemes on pieces of paper that meet no one, only the bottom of trash cans or the back of your hard pillow. You’re not functional. You’re no leading man. You’re no good.

INLAND EMPIRE (Medium: Success) - But it feels good, doesn’t it? To finally admit how rotten you are after a whole life of pretending you’re a giving three, a good soil.

EMPATHY (Challenging: Success) - To say to someone who knows it, understands it, and stays.

[+1 MORALE]

Wait, I gained a fucking morale point from THAT?!

YOU - What the actual fuck?!

RHETORIC (Medium: Success) - You’re neck deep into shit, pal. Just count your win. It’s only a consolidation medal, nothing more, nothingbless – kiddo needs his fake prizes to fill his kiddo fuel.

JIAHANG - “But… I feel like you already,” he tells you. “All the time, hyung… All the time, I feel like you– Angry, and upset, and– and so lonely.”

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT (Easy: Success) - Wait, what’s that taunting your face, blocking your neck…? Oh, fucking Hell…! You’re crying! You’re nodding at him and crying!

AUTHORITY (Impossible: Fail) - HOW THE FUCK ARE YOU CRYING?! You don’t do that anymore, you’ve forgotten how. Revoke it. Revoke it along with all this sweat taking over your body.

“Don’t you dare say that.”

“I’m sorry, Jiahang. This is not– Not what I wanted to happen.”

“Just– Give me a minute, God, give me a minute!”

YOU - “I’m sorry, Jiahang. This is not– Not what I wanted to happen.”

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT (Easy: Success) - The tears prickle your eyes, actually turn you momentarily blind. You blink, hard, adjusting to their salt. It reminds you of how hard to stomach you are, inside out.

PAIN THRESHOLD (Medium: Success) - And it reminds you of how much saltier you’ve used to be. The tears are already falling off your sad sockets, sire – let them.

[+1 PHYSICAL.]

JIAHANG - “It’s not so bad, right, I think, to have… Turned into *this*, because– You’re no longer… lonely, and… Neither am I, right…? We can both be happy with that, be happy…” He doesn’t finish speaking; just closes his eyes, closes his mouth.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY (Medium: Fail) - We like the visual he’s evoking, Minwoo love. Picture the two of you, holding hands, walking right into the dooming sun– Oh, oh! Romeo and Romeo, tongue deep into each other’s poison bitter throats!!!

EMPATHY (Medium: Success) - Your man’s not right. He’s fading. This isn’t the Jiahang you want; most importantly, this isn’t the Jiahang that *Jiahang wants*. This is no good, Minwoo.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY (Medium: Fail) - It’s as close as we'll ever get to having any Jiahang *at all*. Enjoy it! We should kiss him now. Seal this deal right up. Two shots of Marriage In Misery and a whole bottle of Honeymoon On The Floor (Animal Style) coming *right the fuck up*, sign it to the wingless lovebirds right there, near the piss jar!!!

EMPATHY (Medium: Success) - Let go of his hand. Check his eyes. Help him up.

INLAND EMPIRE (Legendary: Fail) - Or perhaps this is the time for you to leave. You shouldn’t have ever touched him, to begin with. You shouldn’t have spoken a single word beyond ‘Goodbye’ to this man when he was still a graduating boy. You shouldn’t have made him think that he needed to cling to ruination to shine. You shouldn't have come to know any of them.

Kiss Jiahang. (ANIMAL FUCKING STYLE!!!)

Check Jiahang up (medically.), then help him up. You both need to leave the Asshole's Hotel Bathroom and The Asshole’s Hotel all together.

Walk away – Just walk away. His shortness of breath seems contagious. It’s sticking to your lungs.

YOU - It takes no effort to untangle your hands from his, to place them both on his cheeks, tend to the temperature.

ENCYCLOPEDIA (Challenging: Success) - His skin is at 110 degrees, to be precise. The lucky-unlucky number, if you’ll believe it.

LOGIC (Medium: Success) - It’s a mind and body turmoil. I’m afraid you can do nothing about it.

WHAT DO YOU MEAN, *DO NOTHING*?! FUCK OFF.

I can do something, I– I feel it.

I refuse to let him fall. I reject it.

YOU - I refuse to let him fall. I reject it.

INLAND EMPIRE (Medium: Success) - Cute, my lord, but still not enough. You might as well swear to become a whole different man, in your desperation, if you want to make this medicine of yours come true – transform into a superhuman, super empathic man suit. Like the Taesong Taesong thinks he is.

Good, I’ll swear on it, I’ll be it – I've been waiting for an excuse to tend to the internal damage and start a renovation. This is will be my new wallpaper.

No, don’t swear on it, fool – There’s no need to be extreme. *There’s no guarantee it will work*.

YOU - No, don’t swear on it, fool – There’s no need to be extreme. *There’s no guarantee it will work.*

ENCYCLOPEDIA (Challenging: Success) - Exactly. Hold your horses, Bang Man. Take this promise in. You never tried to be anything besides what you are now. You’re a 26-year-old hound – in dog years that’s 116 to 128 years of living. There’s no space inside your head for new tricks, new instincts.

DRAMA (Easy: Success) - You’re chained to a wall, my liege. You have to tear it the fuck down, and clean the concrete aftermath, and rise from the ashes of it – full Fenix style. Fail at that and you’ll be here again, if not in this asshole’s hotel bathroom, then another asshole’s hotel bathroom; if not with him, then with someone else, just as meaningful. You got the need for change, now? The need to compromise the fuck out of you?!

AUTHORITY (Heroic: Success): Say you got it now.

Fine. I guess I got it now.

I got it! I fucking got it, goddammit!

I understand.

YOU - I understand.

INLAND EMPIRE (Challenging: Success) - My, oh my… It seems you really do.

THE AWARENESS OF THE LOOP - *OH?* OH! THIS IS A REAL STEP, THIS IS SOMETHING – OH, THIS IS *REALLY SOMETHING NOW*, LITTLE MOON, WHAT A MAGNIFICENT EFFORT! THIS IS PROGRESS YOU’RE HOLDING THE HAND OF, AND IT’S PLEASED TO MEET YOU AT LAST, SO PLEASED TO MEET YOU! THE THING ABOUT IT– THE THING WITH PROGRESS, SHARP-TOOTHED ONE, IS THAT THERE IS NEVER ANY INGLORIOUS END – THERE’S NO END TO IT AT ALL!

[HIDDEN TASK, ‘TAKE THE 1ST STEP OF A 100 INTO METAMORPHOSIS’, COMPLETE.]

[+30 EXPERIENCE.]

[YOU CAN LEVEL UP A SKILL NOW.]

[END?]

[END.]

[disco-elysium-via-polls]

🎵 Whirling in Rags, 8 AM

6. "Like a man down on his luck? I'm trying real hard here, man."

MAN WITH SUNGLASSES - "Oh..." He seems taken aback for a moment. "Well, go solve your case then. That would count as *trying hard*."

AUTHORITY [Easy: Success] - He didn't answer *your* question.

4. "*Now* will you answer some questions for me?"

MAN WITH SUNGLASSES - "No," he says calmly, then just keeps staring at you.

"Why not?"

"Don't you *have* to?"

"Fine."

KIM KITSURAGI - "No, he doesn't."

MAN WITH SUNGLASSES - "If I wasn't clinically depressed, I'd burst out laughing." He doesn't look amused. "But I'm gonna go with *no* right now."

"If you don't want to answer questions then maybe you want to hear me *say things*?"

"Let's talk about something else then."

MAN WITH SUNGLASSES - "Actually, I *don't* want to hear you say things."

HORSE-FACED WOMEN - "C'mon, Jean..."

MAN WITH SUNGLASSES - "Okay. Say things." He adopts a lighter tone. "I want to hear you say things."

AUTHORITY [Trivial: Success] - Hear that? He wants you to say things. Say one!

REACTION SPEED [Easy: Success] - Suddenly, out of nowhere, case-related things start popping up in your head!

"Okay I'm doing this investigation -- a man is hanged."

"Okay, I'm doing this investigation and it turns out he was shot *and* hanged..."

MAN WITH SUNGLASSES - "You think he was hanged as a coverup? To hide the shooting?"

"Basically -- yes."

"Hey, why am I telling you this?"

MAN WITH SUNGLASSES - "Okay. Well..." He corrects his blonde wig. Khm... his hair. He corrects his hair.

"Hey, why am I telling you this?"

MAN WITH SUNGLASSES - "I don't know... why are you?" He gives you an odd look.

INLAND EMPIRE [Medium: Success] - Who knows why we do the things we do. Somehow bouncing those ideas off the man with sunglasses felt calming. Like you've done it before.

+1 Morale

MAN WITH SUNGLASSES - "Oh my god, there's more..." He looks at you in disbelief. "You want something more... what is it?"

Actually, there isn't.

5. "Okay then. See you around!" [Leave.]

MAN WITH SUNGLASSES - "Watch out for yourself, loser!"

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Medium: Success] - That voice... so very familiar... Did you hear it when calling to your station and reporting your badge missing?

"Wait, your voice... I recognize it."

It's probably nothing. [Leave.]

MAN WITH SUNGLASSES - "Oh really?! I wonder where?!"

"I lost my badge recently. When I called in to report it missing, you were there."

MAN WITH SUNGLASSES - *"That's* where you remember me from?"

+5 XP

"Yes. I haven't seen you before."

"Maybe..."

"Khm… I have a bit of…" (Point to your head.) "Memory trouble."

MAN WITH SUNGLASSES - "You don't say?" He turns away from you. "Good bye then. The voice thing was a *coincidence*. Run along, asshole."

ESPRIT DE CORPS - Okay, the man with the sunglasses and his *hypothetical Station 41*. Weird, right?

I know! Super weird.

I guess it was kind of weird, yes.

No, this whole interaction was perfectly normal.

Frankly I'm way past caring or wondering. [Discard thought.]

ESPRIT DE CORPS - There's something we're missing here... something you can't put our finger on. You know what -- just ask him. I know it sounds crazy (and you'll probably get laughed at). But still...

I was thinking the same thing. I should just ask him if we're from the same station.

It's impossible. I don't want to waste my time.

ESPRIT DE CORPS - Yes. Just cross it off the list. It's probably not true though.

MAN WITH SUNGLASSES - "Again?! I can't believe this shit..." He shakes his head, looking like he really is having trouble believing this *shit*.

"Look, I just have to ask: are we from the same police station?"

MAN WITH SUNGLASSES - "I'm going to say... *no*. Just to see what you'll say to that. What do you say?"

"Okay."

"Yeah. Probably not. I don't remember you from anywhere."

MAN WITH SUNGLASSES - "God fucking shit..." He pinches the root of his nose.

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - None of this is great news for him.

ESPRIT DE CORPS - Okay. I was clearly wrong. He is a firefighter, male nurse, animal control agent -- something of that kind. Not a cop. Go on with your cop work. Don't let me stop you again.

+5 XP

6. "Okay then. See you around!" [Leave.]

HORSE-FACED WOMAN - The woman in an RCM patrol officer's uniform winces as she notices you.

"I would really prefer not to talk to you right now…"

AUTHORITY [Trivial: Success] - A patrol officer is the lowest rank in the RCM, below lieutenant and sergeant.

"Hold on, you're a patrol officer of the RCM?"

"I'm on a murder investigation. Are you the cavalry?"

"Is everything alright? Why don't you want to talk to me?" (Proceed.)

"Fine, I'm leaving." [Leave.]

HORSE-FACED WOMAN - "Yes." She nods. "I am."

2. "I'm a cop too."

HORSE-FACED WOMAN - "I know."

KIM KITSURAGI - "He's the real deal."

3. "I'm on a murder investigation. Are you the cavalry?"

HORSE-FACED WOMAN - "I'm definitely not the cavalry."

4. "Is everything alright? Why don't you want to talk to me?" (Proceed.)

HORSE-FACED WOMAN - "I don't know..." She's still avoiding your gaze. "I mean, why would I want to talk to you?"

[mementoboni]

PHALARIS booklet track by track commentary

Notes before reading:

Source: Booklet of DIR EN GREY's album "PHALARIS"(2022), comments from members on each song.

I translated the content into Chinese in July 2022, and the English version was translated in May 2023. (*) are my own thoughts or additions.

Kyo added "ね (ne)" at the end of almost every line, which indicates a tone of voice that's difficult to understand and translate through words.

Toshiya commented on each song almost exclusively in terms of its lyrics. So it may be a bit confusing to read.

Repost and share are welcome.🙌 Please feel free to correct me if you spot any mistake or any confusing parts.☺️

--------

Disc1

01. Schadenfreude

Kyo: It's long. Kaoru: It was September 2020 when I created the demos for a slow-tempo song and a fast-paced song at the same time. I think we decided to pre-produce the fast-paced song and rejected the slow-tempo song. After that, I tried to keep the galloping feeling of the song, but I couldn't get a good feeling for it and time passed. In 2021, we started talking about having a long song, so I struggled to make the song longer, but it didn't take shape well. In the spring of 2021, when I was struggling with the idea, I remembered the existence of a slow-tempo song I had created around the same time, so I decided to put in the taste of that song and started a major remodeling. Since the song had been rejected, I kept the rhythm, changed the riffs and worked on it as hard as I could. When the band members heard the demo, they decided to go with this style, but again, it didn't turn out well. The longer the song gets, the more I want to add waves of development, but it just didn't feel exciting enough. At that time, one of the members suggested to me that I should try to make the whole piece more intense. And so the great adventure began again. It was really hard to finish at this point in time, but it turned out well. Please enjoy the wave of fury that is revealed from the first song. Die: As the first song in the album, it is a symbol of "PHALARIS". Toshiya: The door to "PHALARIS" opens from this song. The entrance to the dazzling labyrinth, fumbling the way to hell. Shinya: This song is packed with super difficult drum phrases from the first track on the album. I personally like the phrases in 4:30 because they seem mature.

02. 朧 (Oboro)

Kyo: It's dark. Kaoru: I created this song with the expectation that it would be in a good position on the album, but since it was to be a single, I kept it rather simple. I thought about changing it a lot for the album, but decided to leave it as is. Die: The moment "Schadenfreude" passes and the sound of this intro rings, my spine is chilling. Toshiya: Here, beg and pray for forgiveness. Shinya: At first I couldn't remember the complicated drum beat of A-Melo (Verse) at all, but I've played it at Live many times, so I'm pretty used to it. It's medium speed, but the drum is very delicate.

03. The Perfume of Sins

Kyo: It's fast. Kaoru: When I first started working on the demo, I wanted to make a dark and impactful song like before. I thought about trying the fast rhythm of "tsuta tsuta" that haven't seen for a long time, and it turned out to be such a clang song. Die: From the ground-crawling guitar riffs to the super-fast beat, it's thrilling. Toshiya: Let's drown in the scintillation. Shinya: The fastest phrase in the album comes out. Even if it's 0.01 seconds, it's so fast that you can't see it anymore, and it takes a lot of concentration, so it's going to be hard even at live.

04. 13

Kyo: It's the 4th song. Kaoru: This song was created around the same time as "Oboro," and I thought the development after the chorus connecting to Die's solo turned out to be a nice touch. Die: DIR EN GREY-style emotional. Toshiya: At the end of the stairs. Shinya: The song is melodious and easy to listen to, but the drums are strangely complicated. It ends without a normal beat from beginning to end.

05. 現、忘我を喰らう (Utsutsu, Bouga wo Kurau)

Kyo: I'm trying to sing in an interesting way. Kaoru: The song came out quite a while ago, but we started working on it towards the end. It is a song with strong character, and I think everyone will like it. Die: Irregular rhythms and monophonic guitar riffs. Unique ambiance. Toshiya: Dancing the rondo of life. Shinya: It is a song with a special rhythm pattern full of rest marks. This song ends without a normal beat. It seems that it is very difficult to get used to the body.

06. 落ちた事のある空 (Ochita Koto no Aru Sora)

Kyo: Hope it doesn't fall off again. Kaoru: Actually, we produced this song for a commission case. So, we have put our own style in full throttle. By the way, that case seems to have been lost. (*I wonder what kind of commission case it is. 🤔) Die: Melodies intertwined with dizzying guitar riffs. Dense. Toshiya: Eagerly waiting for the tomorrow that will never come. Shinya: The drums were rather complicated, but the songs so far are so intense that it sounds simple now. I've played this song many times in live performances, and the groove is perfect.

07. 盲愛に処す (Mouai ni Shosu)

Kyo: Mouai-san. Kaoru: It's all about imagining what it feels like to move the atmosphere. I think this is the last song in the album that we started working on. It might have been finished early. Die: The hooky rhythm is pleasant. Toshiya: This place is everything. Shinya: The drums are busy with many phrases involving toms. I have to create a syncopated groove, so I divide my head into two parts and play while thinking about each part separately.

08. 響 (Hibiki)

Kyo: It's emo. Kaoru: This song was created from a demo we had in the past, just as the album songs were almost ready to be released. Die-kun made an unique arrangement of the song. Die: The feeling of being saved by the light at the end. Toshiya: Stand in silence in front of the empty shells. Shinya: The drums are played in a strange way from the beginning to the end. If you listen only to the drums, it will probably make no sense.

09. Eddie

Kyo: It's fast. Kaoru: It started out as a light-hearted song, but we thought it could be taken to a more violent level. The tempo was sped up and the riffs were roughed up to make it a raging song. I am looking forward to the live performance. Die: I didn't expect to end up with such a hard core from that prototype. Toshiya: Covered in shit. Shinya: It's just fast. It starts with momentum, moves forward with momentum, and when I notice it, it's already over. The drums are just like before, full of guts.

10. 御伽 (Otogi)

Kyo: It's otogi ↑, not otogi ↓, right? Kaoru: It reminds me a little of the old days, but I think it's a type of song that never existed before. There may be a lot of such songs in this album. This is a song that feels good to play. Die: The guitar riffs and melodies with open strings are beautiful. Toshiya: Show love with the tip of my numb fingers. Shinya: It's a song filled with my own drum phrases. I personally like the part of 1:47, where I use the high-hat and the ride cymbal to create a semiquaver rhythm.

11. カムイ (Kamuy)

Kyo: The sound is beautiful. Kaoru: This song was even more difficult than "Schadenfreude”. I created this song with the idea that it would be the one to take over after the departure of "Oboro" as a single. It’s a song with new parts and a strong DIR EN GREY feel. Die: The moment when the heavy guitar riff instantly erases the sad sound of the acoustic guitar. Toshiya: The door to "PHALARIS" closes with this song. Today I step on worthless bugs again, I am the same human being. Shinya: This song is also full of my own drum phrases. My personal favorites are the toms at 2:47 and the snare drum phrases at 5:43.

. . .

Disc2

01. mazohyst of decadence

Kyo: It's dark. Burning with jealousy. Kaoru: I think we rearranged it when we used to play it at a live show, and newly arranged it to the latest version. I played the sitar again since the recording of this song at that time, but it was only used in a very small part of the song. Die: Heavier and deeper. Toshiya: When the Ubume cries. (*Ubume (產女，うぶめ) is a Japanese Youkai, which is transformed from the obsession of a woman who died in childbirth.) Shinya: The structure of the song has changed rather a lot from the original, so I thought of the drums again with a new feeling based on the previous phrases.

02. ain't afraid to die

Kyo: If I sing it in 2022, it will be like this. Kaoru: I wondered what it would be like if we did it now without messing with it too much, so I just went along with it. The solo part was a little bit calculated because I couldn't show the roughness at that time. I played the solo many times, but that's a secret between us. Die: I still remember when we finished part of the song and slept together during the pre-production. Toshiya: For the last time this year. Shinya: I completely recreated the phrases from those days. Even listening to it now, I quite like the drum phrases.

(END)

— — —

中文翻譯 → here (My Blogger)

[sidhewrites]

Seventeen! I've got all these notes about how I want Mr. Ngo to be more involved, and that he deserves to also be a Graveyard Lesbian but I can't figure out exactly where he'd fit in so for now, he's a supporting character instead.

Fun fact number 2 this is going very different than intended, where MagnusRenfield was going to get major spooky powers that would allow him to open up a portal to the spirit world and suck the town into it.

I uh...don't think that's gonna happen anymore but we'll see how it goes.

Project Info

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

There's no such luck waiting for me. A light's on in the front office, with Mr. Ngo waiting for me.  Mr Ngo is waiting for me. I'm exhausted as it is, and I brace myself for a proper chewing out. "Good morning."

"Hiya boss. You're here early."

"Everything okay at home?"

"It, uh..." I rub my arms, feeling the gauze under my sweater's sleeves, and shrug. "It's been a time."

"It seems like it. Maybe you should take another day off. Come back when you're ready."

Something in his tone sets me on edge, heart leaping to my throat. "No -- no, it's fine. I'm fine, I can--"

"Kaz," he says. "I had a weird message on the answering machine yesterday. I'm very worried about you."

Oh no, I think, and try to smile. “What’s up?”

"Those nice people who filmed here the other day, they say you’re calling them and want them to come back."

"I..."

"Kaz, that's very unlike you. What's going on? Do you know how unprofessional that is? "

I know. I know it is. But I don’t know how to sit down and explain to him that not only are ghosts apparently real, but that Mick and Lourdes accidentally summoned an evil one and it’s now possessing my ex girlfriends cat except they thought they were talking to my new kind of girlfriend, who, it turns out, is also a ghost and I’m somehow a medium caught up in the middle of this. “I can explain,” I lie. I have no idea how to explain any of it.

"Kaz."

"Mr. Ngo, listen... things -- it's..." I falter.

He sighs, and puts a hand on my shoulder. "Go get some rest, Kaz. You look like you haven't slept in days. I can handle the graveyard until you're feeling better."

"No -- no, Mr. Ngo, please. I'm fine, really -- I...It won't happen again, I promise. It--"

"Kaz." He looks almost sad. "Get some rest. You've been working very hard lately. I think it would be good to spend less time among the dead, and a bit more among the living for a few days."

I want to argue. I want to beg forgiveness. I want to fall to the ground and tell him everything, if only so he'd stop looking at me like that. But I don't.  I do as I'm told. I apologize one more time, and then I go home, dragging my sorry ass back to the apartment, and fall right back into bed to sleep as long as I possibly could. Somehow, I sleep through the day again -- the week of all-nighters finally catching up to me, and only stir hours later, when the familiar sound of kitty feet patter across the floor.

Renfield doesn't get the zoomies often anymore, but it happens occasionally. I'll wake up in the middle of the night, waddling around like a wild animal, traveling at the speed of slow. He takes his little ramp up to the bed, pounces on my foot, and meeps for attention. Just like always, I roll over and mumble out a little, "Go to sleep, little boy."

Renfield pads across the bed again, leaps down to the ground, and waddles out, then back in and up onto the bed once more to tap my face.

"C'mon, baby," I mumble, still half asleep as he trots around the apartment. "I'll get you breakfast in an hour."

"It's not breakfast I'm looking for."

Suddenly I'm wide awake. Renfield sits there, fur almost glowing in the light that shines in from the street outside, eyes glowing yellow. "Good morning, dear Kaz. It's been far too long."

"Jesus fuck!" I bolt up, nearly falling off the bed. He doesn't move, just watching me scrabble uselessly for a second before I find purchase and leap to my feet.

"Are you done?"

"What the fuck!" I shout.

Magnus sighs. "Let me know when you're done with the hysterics. I have a proposal."

"Leave my cat alone."

"That's part of the plan."

"What? Wait -- but--"

"How am I here? Please." He makes a show of licking his paw, letting me get a good look at the dried blood around his mouth.

"Did you...You didn't..."

"I'm an expedient man, Kaz. I had to get out the door somehow."

[Something.]

"Here's the deal, dearest Kaz. There's something interesting going on lately. The moon's getting full, and I'm pleased to find out what day it is. In a few days, it'll be Hallow's eve, and I have a few suspicions. I don't need much from you, of course. Just get me outside, into the crowds. I'll take care of the rest."

But before he can say more, his strength wanes. Renfield's pupils dilate once more, and he returns to himself. He's confused again, not sure how he got there.

I pick up my phone right away and call Josie. "I think we're running out of time."

Tag List

@adaughterofathena

@ambreeskyewriting

@carnelianflames

@feather-dancer

@halfbloodlycan

@nadunacreates

@serenanymph

@vigilantdesert

[analogplaysgamessometimes]

Mafia III: Definitive Edition Review

CONTENT WARNING: The following review includes images and descriptions of fictionalized violence and blood. Additionally it includes mention and discussion of racist violence and racist terror organizations such as the KKK.

Mafia III (2016) Definitive Edition (2020)

Publisher: 2K

Developer: Hangar 13

Genres: Action-Adventure, Third Person Shooter

Platform: PlayStation 4

Medium: Digital

101 Hours 29 Minutes

7.6/10

The final game in the Mafia Trilogy, Mafia III, sees us take on the role of Lincoln Clay, a special operations Vietnam veteran. Returning home to New Bordeaux (this universe's New Orleans stand in) it doesn't take long for his world to be turned upside down when a job goes wrong and he's back stabbed. From that point on, the game is a quest for revenge on the people who took everything from you. Sounds pretty enticing right? So how'd it fall short?

Well we'll get there but you know I always prefer to start with the positives. First of all this game's use of its 60s era soundtrack is phenomenal. So many moments in this game are made 10 times better because of the music scoring them. Like a high speed boat chase scene through sewer tunnels set to Born to be Wild by Steppenwolf, or a massive shootout set to Johnny Cash's Folsom Prison Blues. It's fantastic. Mafia III is at its strongest with its characters and plot lines. I genuinely cared about these people and what happened to them, I was rooting for them. Even the ones I didn't really like, we were on the same team. Lincoln as a protagonist was interesting and well written. His motivations stayed believable and easy to embody through the whole of the game's run time. He may be my favorite protagonist of any of the Mafia games. It doesn't hurt that he's quite handsome too, looks incredible in a suit vest.

Additionally the game's weapons sand box is much larger and, from what I could tell, largely historically accurate. This allowed for massively varied approaches to different situations I came across, even including suppressed weapons now that we're up into the 60s. Let me tell you, stealth in this game feels great. As an afterthought I'll add that I really enjoyed the way in which the game framed the story. The documentary style cutscenes with people talking about the events of the game after the fact was something I quite enjoyed. It served as a good tone setter for the significance of the things you did as you played.

With that being said I think where this game falls short, and it would seem many agree with me, is in the gameplay aspects. Firstly with driving, much of the nuance of the previous Mafia games was gone. No longer is there a speed limiter allowing for RP driving, nor will cops chase you for speeding. Cops no longer have varied responses to things in general, as they did in Mafia II, instead all piling on like GTA cops. I will admit that the previous point may be due to something I'll talk about later in this review, but even still it stands out as a lack of gameplay depth comparatively. Much of the combat feels overly difficult at times, not because of difficult enemies but because of hordes of them descending upon you. It was just easier to avoid open gunfights all together wherever possible. This coupled with the brutal checkpoint system (granted not as brutal as Mafia II's) led to some real moments of frustration.

I experienced a small handful of glitches and performance issues, the biggest of which being a handful of game crashes and my in game map (full and mini) glitching and becoming fully useless until I reset. Some other things I encountered that were less egregious were occasional texture pop ins and a few NPCs fully T-posing.

Now I would like to move on to my biggest criticism of Mafia III. It should be stated from here on out there will be discussions of historical racism and racist violence, if this is not to your comfort then I will mark the beginning and end of this segment with ** so it can be easily skipped.

**

I think Mafia III, plot wise, is actually a strong entry. A major theme of all the Mafia games has been racism and America's relationship to it. In the first game it was exploring how racism and prejudice against immigrants in the late 19th and early 20th centuries led to the mob forming in America and becoming as powerful as it was. In the second it peels back the rose tinted glasses white folk gaze at the 40s and 50s through to show how deeply racist and difficult times they were for anyone who was maybe even just the wrong type of white. In the third it examines and comments on the life of black folk in the deep south during the late 60s, an era where segregation was still strongly enforced despite having been repealed federally, and the area in which they lived was (and still is in many ways) deeply racist. They go so far as to give the series its first black protagonist to explore this more fully. Their commentary is not particularly nuanced, but here are two things I think really bring it down. This is a Mafia game. A game about committing violent crime and suffering next to no repercussions for it. As Lincoln Clay, you are a big scary man with a gun in a video game about crime. No one can tell you not to enter their business, you will simply do it anyway and beat the shit out of them or even murder them and will suffer no repercussions for this. They cannot attempt to lynch you, you are a big scary man with a gun in a video game about crime who's basically a walking, talking, living, breathing tank who will again suffer no repercussions for what you do. It's like trying to tell the Payday Gang to not rob a bank.

While this is a great power fantasy, a wonderful revenge fantasy, it really cheapens the stress and anger and frustration that a real black man in this time and place would have experienced in Lincoln's shoes, thus (in my opinion) somewhat cheapening the commentary.

I walk into a whites only business and the worst that happens (assuming I don't immediately deck the clerk, again suffering little to no repercussions), is that the clerk waves their fist at me and goes "why I oughta! Imma call the cops iffin' you don't leave!" And the situation is always easily defused by leaving or otherwise "incapacitating" said clerk. 

Secondly, they go really hard in the paint in some places. The slurs, including hard R N-words, are thrown freely and with reckless abandon and the depiction of violent racism is depressingly accurate and also frequent. This goes so far as to even set one of the DLC in a sundown town (if you dont know what that is, educate yourself). But, for some fucking reason, they won't call the Ku Klux Klan the Ku Klux Klan. They're the "Southern Union."

Even though they dress and are organized and behave exactly like the KKK. Don't get it twisted. They're the Southern Union for suuuure! I am strongly of the belief that when you are depicting something like this in history, it is important not to omit things for the comfort of a modern audience. It should make them uncomfortable. That's what gets the point across that these things are wrong and can't be allowed to continue or happen again. Changing something's name or the symbolism behind it can make it easier for there to be a disconnect in the audience's head from what's being depicted in media and what really happened or is actively happening.

I would like to say that all of this is written from the perspective of a white man, so it may not be my place to speak on these matters at all, but I felt that given the story Mafia III was trying to tell, it was important to mention. My point is that I could see where Mafia III was going and in some ways it succeeded, but I don't think it succeeded as much as it could have.

**

Mafia III: Sign of the Times (2017)

The first DLC I played for Mafia III, Sign of the Times, follows Lincoln and Father James as they investigate a cult after saving a girl named Anna from a grizzly fate at their hands.

All in all it was a neat experience but I felt it was the weakest of the three DLC. While the crime scene investigations were very cool, and there were moments that made Mafia III feel more akin to something out of a survival horror game, it ultimately fell flat. The rather generic, spooky drugged up cult that comprises the DLC's primary antagonists is largely to blame for this.

It does introduce a few characters I adore, like Oscar, and gives you a way in which to renovate and restore Sammy's Bar which is delightful. Those positives are immediately countered, however, by the fact that the one character we're really supposed to care about, Anna, is poorly written. She did not have the on screen chemistry with Lincoln the game tries to push on the audience, leading to it feeling forced. There's no real point or benefit to renovating Sammy's, either, except having a nicer looking home base.

Mafia III: Faster, Baby! (2017)

The second DLC I played, Faster, Baby!, sees Lincoln assisting the Voice and his daughter Roxy build a case against the head pig of a sundown town just outside New Bordeaux's city limits. This DLC honestly goes really hard and may be my favorite of the three.

It's just dumb fucking fun. It primarily consists of driving around as fast as possible, tearing Sinclair Parish down to its foundations and killing racist cops. The antagonist, Sheriff Walter Beaumont, is a shit eating scumbag who I hated from the very moment he walked on screen and continued to hate and want to destroy until the moment I kicked his teeth in at the DLC's conclusion. Roxy and Lincoln have fantastic chemistry and I can't think of a character I would have rathered he had a romance scene with. Also you have a massive gunfight with the Klan on a burning weed farm set to Paint it Black by the Rolling Stones and if that's not enough for you, I don't know what is.

In all seriousness though, I think my only complaints about this DLC is that it reuses mission types and that building up your grow operation is tedious and repetitive. Otherwise it's great!

Mafia III: Stones Unturned (2017)

The last of Mafia III's DLC, Stones Unturned, sees Lincoln and his friend and CIA contact, Donovan, rekindle their roles as covert operatives for the US government. This DLC involves a jungle, the Witness Protection Program, PMCs, .50 caliber machine guns, clandestine CIA operations, and nuclear weapons. What more could you ask for?

I honestly don't have much more to say about this one, it was a fun romp but not as notable as Faster, Baby! I will say, you get some drippy as fuck tac gear from it though.

Mafia III is, in my opinion, a genuinely strong entry into the Mafia franchise, probably one of my favorites. With DLC leagues better than any that II had to offer and arguably my favorite protagonist in the series, I recommend it even to people who haven't played the other Mafia games. I will caution you however to only do so if you're OK with letting a game coast off its characters and story for 100+ hours, and not its gameplay loop. I'm eager to see what Hangar 13 cooks up for Mafia IV! In the meantime, come on down to the French Ward!

[commiemartyrshighschool]

Two things have been on my mind lately.

It is not enough to be right, you also need to be persuasive.

Video essays are significantly more work than written essays.

That comes together, I think, in making video essays a preferred medium for ideas at the moment. They hold your attention and hit you with sound and visuals alongside words that invite concentration but not thought. They're performed in a way that tone of voice, facial expression, and visual display of information are at least as important as the text being delivered.

Being a good video essayist requires not just a way with words, but also editing skills and the ability to not only make a case but be an orator.

A slick, well produced video essay is a lot of work, and if you don't have all the resources necessary yourself to pull it together you need the resources necessary to pull together a team that can do it.

In essence it becomes much harder to "argue back" in a medium where you need to do a lot more than simply write a response.

Now, writing ability varies considerably among people, even before accounting for things like discussions with multilingual dimensions. But almost anybody on Earth who would care to respond to a written essay on the internet has access to a keyboard! Not everybody can become a novelist or essayist for the ages, but even minimal practice and reading can improve anybody's ability.

But video essays have essentially raised the barrier to entry in participating in many conversations. Only a handful are truly consequential, to be sure, but the comment section is almost always going to be relegated to a peanut gallery unless the channel runner takes the time to respond in a video format.

This, I believe, creates a sort of assumed parasociality to watching a video essayist. Because even if the ideas are on your level the presentation is more likely than not, well beyond you.

But a written essay? There might be apparent differences in writing ability, and being persuasive is distinct from being right as well, yet you won't be able to tell if the response was made on a new computer or an old one, who has the bigger stock asset library, the nicer set, the better camera, the quickest cuts. Things that absolutely do matter in a video essay, as does if the watcher finds the essayist attractive, or feel they look trustworthy.

I don't know if there's any way TO actually bring back a public appreciation for essays though. Less than 60 percent of millennials EVER read newspapers, and older generations don't lag far behind on that stat. The internet is ostensibly a great place to discover, read, and share essays but now that video essays can be delivered at watchable speeds even if they're in HD and four hours long they have almost no competitive advantage.

Text oriented platforms do exist, but they're skewed towards the pithy and combative, the hot takes of twitter, bluesky, threads, what have you. I'm not sure that traditional forums, even the few that exist, are free from that either.

I dunno, it's part of why when I published my magazine I really wanted that magazine format, that print-ability. Wish I had the time and energy to get past Issue Zero.

But it seems to me that might be where some of the hope is to be found, collections and curations with accessible submissions.

Anyways, another perk of the written essay is that you don't need to plot the whole thing out. You can just kinda jam and dash off thoughts without an ending sorted.

[lys1]

Congratulations! You waited so patiently <3 This is another Asra x fem!reader for you. NSFW. 5218 words. 

Playing With Potions

—————

The late spring morning air was warming up to be a balmy 75 degrees. You had your skirt pulled down and up, tucked in the back of the waistband, forming makeshift shorts. The shop was somewhat quiet, yet the din from the streets made its nimble way through the open windows.

You descend the ladder to the box of ingredients you were unpacking. They had come in the previous evening and Asra had promptly asked you to “organize them later”. Of course you said yes, the two of you shared this shop after all, and the work that came with it.

Asra himself was bustling behind the counter, sweeping the wooden floors free of the dust and fallen ingredients. He stops momentarily to pick up his cup of tea and take a long sip. The jasmine tea's steam billows into his face as he sighs with content pleasure.

The floorboards creak as you step down and Asra looks over at you, gaze soft. "How's the supplies look, dear?" He asks curiously, returning the cup to it’s coaster.

"Ah," you muse, counting the small containers in your hands. "Looks like we will be all set on lizard toes for a while, I think our supply captain read 1000 instead of 100." You can't help but chuckle, it couldn't be helped, at least you wouldn’t have to order more for a while.

Asra's eyes open a little wider, "oh my." He laughs, "I suppose we won’t". He sets his broom to rest against the counter and bare feet pad over to you, his deep-purple eyes examining the products.

You feel his hand settle on your waist subconsciously; a side effect of being close to one another. You breathe in lightly, smelling the sweet scent of coconut and honied biscuits wash over you. Asra's breakfast choice was apparent.

"Mm," you say, turning so the two of you were face to face. "You smell delicious."

Asra smiles, box in his hand now a little less important. "Care for a taste?" He teases, eyes falling to your parted lips. He sets his lizard toes aside and joins his other hand at your waist. You look up at him through your eyelashes and nod.

He is a mere millimeter from sealing the gap between you when the bell of the shop jingles merrily.

"Ah jeez," you huff good in good nature. "I forgot we have jobs and responsibilities."

Asra laughs at your obvious disappointment and steals a small peck. "Unfortunately, we have to eat somehow." He then turns away and walks back to the counter to greet the customer.

The man is short and has a little round face. He looks extraordinarily nervous, and this catches your attention. Yours and Asra's shop is well known in the city and the townsfolk trust their magicians. You hadn't seen anyone come in here looking so nervous, and maybe even a little embarrassed.

"What can I do for you, sir?" Asra asks charmingly, resuming his position behind the counter. Briefly you let yourself admire how nice he looks, comfortable in his shop and expertise, before turning back to the box you were supposed to be dealing with. Not, however, letting your ears miss the conversation.

"I," the man starts, already fumbling with his words. "I, well look. I need help." He finishes plainly, nervously clutching his shirt between his pudgy hands.

Asra smiles kindly, "many do." He says, tilting his head and examining his new client. "Are you here for a card reading? Need to get some answers?"

The man groans as though he is already exhausted with the conversation. "No, I already know what I need. I have the answers. I've heard about this place. The ways you can help people. I live an hour out of the market and I made this trip just to see you."

"We're flattered, for sure." Asra says calmly, you can hear slight annoyance in his tone from all the ambiguity. The visitor is none the wiser though. "To help you though," Asra continues. "I'll need to know what you need."

"Alright I need a potion," the man finally reveals. "One that will help me... with performance." His cheeks are redder than a bell pepper in the sun.

Asra raises a white eyebrow, "performance? Are you an actor?"

"No!" The man's voice came out in a strangled whisper, obviously trying to keep it down. You roll your eyes, chancing a glance over your shoulder. The shop floor wasn't that big, of course you were going to hear everything.

"No," he said again, this time a little more composed. "What I mean is... my sex life performance." The truth comes out. Your visitor wipes his forehead with a dirty rag from his pocket. "My wife and I well.. we've hit a slump," he explains. "And I've heard of potions that can help with that kind of thing. Stuff that will completely change the game." His eyes are shining now, imaging life post-performance potion.

Asra looks uncertain at best. "I see," he starts, shooting you a glance. "That.. does exists. But it takes awhile to make. And the price isn't cheap either."

You shove the last of the crow feathers into their designated drawer while listening. You have never heard of such a potion, but you were also still learning. Asra sounds a little unsure though.

"Price isn't an issue," the man sounds desperate. "I'll pay anything."

Asra sighs, he feels bad for the man wringing his hands before him, practically crying for a cure. "Alright," he finally concedes. "I'll make it, but you'll have to come back in the morning. This kind of thing takes all evening to brew."

Your customer nods vigorously, "I can wait." He says. "Tomorrow morning, yes! I'll be here!" His excitement apparent, he bows a few times while backing out of the door, tripping over his own feet.

The door closes with a sharp bang and the bell rings furiously. Asra blows air out of his mouth so that itf ruffles the curls between his eyes.

"Well," he says after a moment. "A sex performance enhancing potion was not what I was expecting to make today." He rubs his temples, eyes closed and looking thoughtful.

You grin at him from the shelf as you pick up the empty shipping box and rest it on your hip. "That's quite the name, I've never heard of a potion like that."

Asra laughs and opens his beautiful eyes to look at you. "Yes, you'll have to forgive me for not teaching you that kind of magic, it's not the.. safest." He ends uncertainly. "I don't even know how this guy found out about it. It's not talked about much amongst us magicians.. and it's certainly not a common one."

Immediately more questions than your mouth can keep up with flood your brain. "So how did you find out about it? And why isn't it safe?" You ask the two more important ones, eyes following Asra as he finds a piece of paper and quill to use.

He dips his quill in the register's ink well and starts scratching down what you presumed to be ingredients. "I've been studying magic for years, my love." He says simply, "and before you ask, no I haven't used it on myself." He looks up at you, mischief dancing in his pretty eyes. "I'd like to think my sex game is up to par." He adds innocently, licking his lips seductively when your ears tinge pink.

You brush imaginary dirt off your shirt sleeves and huff. "I suppose it's pretty good." You mumble. It almost feels like a lie to just describe it as "pretty good" but Asra doesn't need you to stroke his ego right now. You do that enough falling to pieces beneath him every night.

Asra is well aware of your attempt to keep him humble and laughs lightly. "And to answer your other question," he says, turning back to his ingredient list, "messing with ones body like this can be dangerous. You have to be very precise."

You nod as he explains, it makes sense.

Potions are always brewed in pots over a magic fire so you put yourself to work, removing a medium sized iron pot from a hook on the wall and carrying it to a fire stand. Asra is busy himself, opening various drawers and adding seemingly random ingredients to a basket he has looped over his arm. Iris petals, newt eyeball, and some shimmering gold flakes. You smile watching him, your gorgeous magician; smart and able.

In no time at all Asra has a bubbling pot of sweet smelling liquid stirring before him. You stand beside him, observing curiously.

"Why are you wearing gloves?" You ask, taking note of the large leather gloves that clad all the way up your lover's forearm.

Asra continues to stir and looks over at you, happy to hear your eagerness to learn. "I can't risk even a drop of this touching my skin. It's so strong, and will immediately absorb into anyone's skin, leaving them..." He shakes his head and trails off, amused. "That's why it has to brew so long, to burn off some of the potency."

Your mouth opens in amazement, taken aback by the idea. This is the real deal you decide, stepping back a couple inches in precaution. After watching the potion bubble for a couple more minutes you stretch and grab the watering can sitting by the floor of the door.

"I'm going to water the plants," you inform Asra, waving your hand briefly until the can is full of cool, crisp water. Gods knows there are at least three dozen inside and outside of the shop.

Asra is humming in confirmation that he heard you as you open the shop door to the plants hanging outside. You don't get very far before you're blindsided by a streak of purple darting through your legs.

Escape!

"Faust?!" You yelp, dancing around the squirming snake as she winds her way under and into the open shop. A loud, booming bark makes you jump again. This time a large hound dog is rounding the tight corner from the side street and barreling full speed towards you.

All hell breaks loose. The water can is up in the air, crashing wildly into the side of the building. You are thrown back onto the dusty floor and a mass of fur and teeth race past you, paying no mind to your yelling.

Help!

Faust is racing around the floor, narrowly avoiding the jaws of the angry dog she seemed to have aggravated. There's a large crash from inside and you cringe, hearing bottles break and wood crunch. You look back, scared at what you might find.

The shop is a disaster, papers strewn, vials broken, and potion pot toppled. Asra is groaning on the floor, obviously doing no better than the rest. You glance at him worriedly, taking quick notice of the potion he had been making spilled everywhere, even on him.

You snap your fingers and the dog's growl, who was cornering Faust by the bookshelf, turns into a whimper as you lift him up with your magic. "I'm sorry pooch," you sigh, "but we can't have you eating our friend." With a wave of your wrist the hound is out the door and down the street in an instant. The hinges creak and bell rings as the door is once again closed to outside.

Thank you!

Faust wriggles happily, red eyes glowing in relief. You guess she got up to some trouble with the local fauna. She slithers up the stairs quickly, leaving you to look around at the ruined shop.

"Ah, fuck," Asra's words cut through your thoughts like a knife. He's laying flat on the floor, chest heaving as though he just ran a marathon. Sweat glistens on his tan skin, covering him from head to toe.

You step over the broken bottles and kneel at his side. "My love?" You ask, unsure of what to do. It was obvious what had happened, it didn't take an expert. The potion that was supposed to be for your customer was now soaked into Asra's glowing skin.

Asra opens his eyes and you swallow hard. You know that look, and it nearly makes you start trembling where you sit. Lust is prevalent, clouding Asra's eyes until they're a dark amethyst color.

"You-" you start to speak but are cut off by Asra sitting up abruptly. His face is close to yours and his breath washes over your lips, hot and wanton. He looks positively desperate, just the sight of you sitting before him doing wonders.

"Please," Asra's voice comes out low and husky, he watches your chest rise and fall quickly as a result. "Can I please have you, right now."

You could almost call him asking like that soft and innocent, if it wasn't for the raw, hungry look he was giving you. His eyes were traveling everywhere across your body, leaving an invisible line that you could almost feel burning into your skin. Your lips parted and you let out a soft gasp, the power that kind of look had over you was astonishing. You shifted your legs under you subtly, feeling the result of the hot atmosphere low in your stomach.

"Tsk, tsk," you had to tease for a moment. "Closing the shop at midday for some fucking?" You reach up and cup Asra's cheek, feigning uncertainty. His skin on your fingertips burns white hot and you have to hide your amazement.

Asra's eyes narrow, he knew you too well. With a quick flick of his wrist you hear the deadbolt on the door slide into place. It's only a second later and both of his hands have found a place on either side of your hips.

"Why do you torment me?" he asks, pulling you close so your legs straddle him. "Can't you see I'm getting enough of that from this damn mistake of a potion?" His words are almost shaky, as though he can barely speak anymore. He presses his hips up to meet yours, and a soft sigh escapes his lips as he finally gets a little friction.

You dig your nails into his shoulders and gasp, the feeling of Asra so obviously in need is enough to make anyone go wild.

You can't resist grinding down lightly and Asra's eyes practically roll back at the sensation. "How can I say no to such a pretty face," you whisper, completely in love with his reaction.

That was enough for Asra and without added words he gathers you up in his strong arms and lifts you both. Your head falls back pleasurably when his lips find your neck. It only takes a few quick steps on his part to bring the two of you into the plush back room.

The purple cushions lining the cozy futon sink in gently as your back hits the mattress. The room has a slight pleasing haze as sandalwood incense burns at the table. The smell washes over your senses and a new wave of sensuality comes over the room.

Asra's hands hold you firmly as his lips continue to press lovingly into your skin. He hovers over you, one leg pressed between your legs, causing your hips to involuntarily move along his thigh.

"I need you out of these clothes," Asra groans, lips being stopped at your chest where your shirt has suddenly become a hindrance. He's already tugging at the hem, untucking the loose fabric from your waistband. You raise yourself to your elbows and help him pull the shirt over your head. At once it is thrown over Asra's shoulder and his eyes are set on your bare skin, drinking in the sight of his lover.

You smile at his admiration and lay back again, stretching your arms above your head and arching your back. You feel his hands on your stomach, traveling up to rest on your breasts. Your skin prickles with desire, flesh lighting on fire from his ministrations.

"How did I get so lucky," he breathes out, looking down at you with a look filled with love and passion. He rests the tips of his fingers on your nipples and swirls them lightly, leaving you to twist in torturous pleasure beneath his touch. "Everything about you is beautiful." Asra continues to flatter, lowering his head so his curls tickle your stomach. He licks a long line from the dip of your hip up to the valley between your breasts.

After a few moments of tasting your supple skin he moves his hands to the top of your skirt and tugs. You lift your hips in compliance and the fabric slides down your legs easily. Asra licks his lips as your body is finally fully presented to him.

"I could feast on you," he announces, voice lowered with need. "And I wouldn't go hungry in a lifetime." These words he whispers into your inner thigh, they tickle your skin softly.

You watch with bated breath as the man before you adores his lover. It's hard to keep your moans controlled as you feel his sinfully good tongue lick you in a way that can only be described as ecstasy.

Asra shifts into a more comfortable position, lying on his stomach and he brings your legs to lay comfortably over his shoulders. You shudder as you feel his hot breath flutter over your dripping slit. He doesn't waste anymore time and lowers his face to enjoy you.

Your thighs squeeze his head lightly as your body arches in response. Asra is devouring you as though you were a feast and it was the only meal he is to have in a lifetime. He grips your legs tightly to keep you from moving and covers your slit with his mouth, sucking for a moment on the tight nub at the top. He groans happily into your skin before moving down to lick your hole.

"Oh please, yes," you run your trembling hand through his hair and raise your hips up to meet his greedy mouth. He laps short, quick strokes first, stimulating you into madness.

After a moment he slows his tongue down to swirl languidly, looking up at you. You make eye contact and groan at the erotic scene of him eating you out. "That mouth of yours is too skilled for its own good," you whisper, fingers digging into his scalp, trying desperately to savor every swipe of his tongue.

Asra smiles against your folds. "I live to make you feel good, my dear." He says, pausing a moment. "You intoxicate me. Your smell, your taste. I couldn't get enough even if I had all the time in the world." He presses his lips on each one of your thighs with hot, open mouth kisses.

You blush at his words, feeling amazing under his praise. "Come here," you command softly, pulling on Asra's hair lightly to guide him back up your body. He kisses every inch of skin he passes before finally reaching your lips.

"Mm," he hums, taking your face in his hands. "But these lips, are like the finest honey in Vesuvia." He lifts your head so your mouths meet. It's a hot and feverish kiss, full of staggering amounts of love.

You press your body into his and relish in the feeling of kissing Asra. Your mouths are opened to one another and your tongues meet in fiery unison. While you enjoy the kiss you allow your hands to roam. Your fingers find his shirt buttons and you start to undo them as best you can, only a little distracted. It takes just a minute and you sigh happily into his mouth when you finally remove the annoying clothing.

You part a moment to admire the divinity of his body; prostrated before you. He was calling himself the lucky one, but you could probably make a pretty good argument for it being the other way around. He looked absolutely glorious in the hazy glow of the room.

As you reach for the waistband of his pants and rest your fingers playfully on the skin above it Asra breaks out in goosebumps at the fluttering feel of your touch.

"Ah," he breaths out, raising himself to his knees and closing his eyes. Clearly, he's enjoying the attention finally being on him.

"You are the one with the potion affecting them." You say, drawing a line from one hip to another. "It'd almost be criminal to ignore you for any longer." Your eyes fall to the bulge straining under Asra's pants, just begging to be free. A smile plays across your lips as his breaths quickens significantly.

"I.. wouldn't complain." He finally manages to say in a strained tone.

You smile, maybe a little too satisfied, and hook your fingers under the band. "I know." You chuckle, pulling. The trousers catch a moment on Asra's hardened length before slipping down to his knees. You take time to admire the sight before you, licking your lips. Asra is panting slightly, looking down at you lustfully as your eyes graze over him.

He grabs your head on either side and looks into your eyes. "Please," is all he can croak out.

You swallow thickly and you feel yourself dampen even more at his begging words. “I’d like nothing more" you say; need dripping heavily from your words. You lean forward and kiss the tip of his leaking slit lightly. Asra's body shivers with pleasure when your soft lips meet his aching shaft.

You take a breath before closing your mouth around his tip. Your cheeks hollow and you suck in deeply, enjoying the small sounds of pleasure emitting from Asra's lips. He groans even deeper as you finally swallow down his whole length, tip sliding down the back of your throat.

"Ah fuck, baby," he stutters through gritted teeth, fingers threading through your hair. He thrusts into your mouth without hesitation, reveling in the way you feel around him. The pace is fast and vicious, leaving no time for extra room for breathing.

You choke back your gasps and feel the involuntary tears prick at the corners or your eyes. Your hands fall to your sides as you let Asra use your mouth how he pleased. Licentious noises ring around the room as he sinks his member into your mouth relentlessly, moaning at each stroke and the salacious feelings that come over him.

His grip tightens in your hair as he pounds into your face. You open your mouth as widely as you can and take him in, ignoring the slight pain of labored breathing. The feeling of being used so mercilessly is intoxicating, and you close your eyes, enjoying the pleasure that overtakes you.

With a loud pop he pulls out of your drooling mouth, leaving you to be the one groaning in disappointment.

"I'm sorry love," he huffs dazedly, need heavy on his features. "But if I don't stop this now I'm cumming in your mouth."

"That doesn't sound so bad," you complain, sticking your tongue out so Asra can view how much you want it. His eyes darken considerably and he looks ready to break.

He takes a breath in sharply, steadying himself before holding your face gently in his hand. "As much as I want you fuck your face, that pussy of yours I know is dripping for me and I have to comply." He chuckles, running his thumb along your lip.

You whimper at his words, practically climaxing at the suggestion. You meet his eyes in a needy manner and nod. "Oh, Asra," you start, already seeing excitement flit across his face at the mention of his name. "I want you more than I can even describe to you."

To this Asra inhales sharply, thumb still hooked in your mouth. "Tell me how you want me," he says, barely able to contain his own desire.

"I want you to fuck me from behind," you begin, knowing exactly how to please his ears. "I'm going to cry and moan, and beg you for relief but you will know better." His eyes widen in ecstasy but you continue anyway. "I want you to give everything you can to me, without holding back."

Asra seems to snap right in front of you. His features immediately seem to plead for consolation. "You'll get what you ask for." He growls, fingers tightening in your mouth. You lick his thumb seductively and the action throws him over the edge.

Asra's hands fly to your waist and hold you firmly, you're flipped over; ass to the heavens greeting him. He swallows at the sight and digs both palms into the flesh, enjoying the feeling immensely. "So needy and ready for me," he groans, finger finding your entrance and slipping in easily. You gulp at the warmth of having fingers enter you. Asra is unrelenting and curls them cruelly against your walls.

"Just fuck me already!" You cry, unable to hide your desires anymore. You hear Asra laugh behind you, yet despite this you know he is dying to sink himself into you.

"Alright, alright." He concedes, taking your hips in his hands. "If you insist."

You feel his tip slide against your slit and shudder, craving the feeling of him inside you. It doesn't take more than a moment before you feel him start to enter you. You lay your head down, turning your face so you can watch Asra take you from behind.

His lips are parted in a silent moan as he relishes in the feeling of your walls around him. You sigh softly as he fully sheaths himself in you, a small tremor passing over your body from the pleasure. One moment, two moments pass as you both bask in the feeling of being connected.

"Give me your hands," he commands, slowly sliding in and out of you, giving no care to his agonizingly slow pace. Soft gasps are falling from your lips as you try to register his request.

Carefully, you cross your arms behind your back. It's no use to keep the blush at bay as you take in the dirty scene. Your face is pressed to the pillows, unable to move much as Asra takes your wrists and pins them to your back. Your ass is raised in the air to meet his rhythmic thrusting.

Asra grips one of your thighs with a free hand and quickens the pace a little. Your eyes shut tightly as your body responds. You can feel his tip hit deep inside of you with each snap of his hips. It's unrelenting and you have to catch yourself from begging for more.

You feel the fingers around your wrist tighten a bit as Asra's breathing speeds up behind you. You know that he's set on giving you as much painfully slow torture as he can manage himself, but you also know that potion is working against him. There's nothing he wants more than to let go and pound you into the mattress.

"Baby," you choke out, words bouncing along with your bodies. "I know you want to fuck me so good right now." Your voice is deep with seduction. "Please just fill me up like I know you want to." You finish your plea, watching his face with satisfaction. His eyes are darkened with desire. He takes just a few more strokes before slowly to a stop inside you.

"You asked for it," he warns. He only takes a moment to let go of your wrists and flips your body so you're facing him. He cages you in on either side and licks his lips as he stares into your eyes. His hungry mouth meets yours in a kiss full of fire. You can melt into it for only a second before you feel him grab your hips and pull you flush against him; Your cries drowned by his lips as he sets an erratic pace, skin meeting with loud slaps.

"Fucking hell," he groans, still kissing you between words. "You feel like heaven on earth. You're so hot, and I can feel your insides squeezing me." He explains, hot breath falling over your face. Your cheeks burn at his descriptions.

You loop your arms around his neck and press your chest into his. Your skin meets, shining with sweat and burning from love. Asra presses back, savoring the feeling of your nipples brushing against his.

You start to feel that familiar blossom of unreleased pleasure pool in your lower stomach. Asra's shaft is hitting you just right, sending jolts of satisfaction right to your core.

"Oh-" you stop and whine pleasantly when he shifts angles. "Fuck. Please yes, don't stop!" Your arms drop and nails dip into his biceps and you grit your teeth from the hot delight searing through your body.

"I couldn't even If i wanted to," Asra answers, words strained as his grasp on himself starts to crumble. His breath is leaving his lips in short pants now and you can almost see the resolve to hold on slip away before your eyes.

He falls into you, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and thrusts into you with all of the strength he can muster. You bury your face in his neck and take hold of his hair. You can feel Asra's body shuddering to not let go.

You bring your lips to his ear and bite his lobe. "Won't you come for me sweetheart? Please empty yourself in me." You whisper.

Asra takes in a sharp breath and you hear him choke at your words. They were enough to push him over the edge and he rams into you with a low, strangled cry.

Your head falls back and your mouth opens in a silent scream as Asra lets himself go in you. Your legs shake violently of their own accord as you feel your orgasm wash over you, leaving your body in euphoric fire.

Asra's lips immediately find yours as you ride out your orgasms together. You kiss him passionately, all of your senses in overdrive. His kisses are soft, and sweet, a clear declaration of his love. Happiness rushes in like a flood as you enjoy the afterglow. After a minute Asra removes himself from you and joins you in laying down, sides still heaving from the activities.

"My dear, how I love you." He says with a smile, running his fingers in slow, soft circles on your stomach.

You turn on your side and look into his eyes. He looked content, and his cheeks were dimpled from his growing grin.

"I love you too," you return, hand falling into his. His skin was still warm. The two of you lay there for a while, out of breath and simply enjoying the presence of one another.

Eventually, Asra sits up and looks down at you with humor in his eyes. "Well, I think I can tell our buyer that we did an extensive review of his product and it does, in fact, work."

Your face breaks into a smile and you laugh at Asra's words. "Oh goodie, I'm sure he'll be thrilled to hear all about it."

[comicaurora]

Abt the How To Dynamic Paneling, something that also helps is by reading a lot of different comics and seeing how those artists do their layouts and working out their how and whys. Personally I've been rereading (for like the 3rd time after following it since first release lol) Spy x Family and while no spoilers the series is very much a balance between comedy and action, and while no spoilers there's really interesting panels in some of those latter scenes where weapons will break OVER the panel borders to emphasize its power. It's really cool but it's also a function of the particular tone and style of the comic; the comedy and lower stakes moments are often softer with less concrete framing, and I think on some level working out how the paneling happens is something that depends on the actual artist style and medium over most things. Namesake also has some gorgeous layouts

Spy X Family is both very cute and very good at communicating clear action without overloading on speed lines! It also has to juggle the complexities of having a psychic protagonist and making a clear distinction between what she's telepathically sensing vs what's she's thinking on her own vs what people around her are saying vs non-diegetic narration. It also plays with panel borders - in this page from chapter 3 (I'm only gonna use examples for chapter 3 to avoid spoilers) the figures in the second panel fully overlap the first panel, unrestrained by the borders. The third panel, however, fully encloses the figures, speech bubbles and narration box.

They do this with word bubbles a lot, producing an effect similar to how a cut to a wide or environmental shot would work in TV. It implies that the dialogue plays over the unrelated background shot or scene. The narration is also helpfully contained in a different-shaped hard-edged rectangular box, quite distinct from any dialogue or thought bubbles, helping us recognize instinctively that while Anya can hear anything and everything in the rounded bubbles, the narration is firmly separated from in-universe speech and thought.

In this one, the speech bubbles for the loud, angry shouting crowd break the panel borders, signifying how they're overwhelming Anya, in contrast to the other, softer narration and dialogue which is contained within the panel borders.

And this chapter also has an action-heavy page that skews the panel borders to follow the direction of movement, drawing the eye down to the center of the motion! The speed lines and sound effect follow the same perspective rules and don't obscure the background figures. The two panels on the left side contrast the sudden action and extreme movement by showing two timeless or slow-motion moments, signified by the particles (and teeth) hanging suspended in the air - the absence of speed lines indicates to us that these moments are single, frozen vignettes. We know exactly what this scene would look and feel like when animated.

Characters will often overlap panels and borders to signify that they're reacting to or thinking about something in that panel. It's a very efficient way of making the scene feel a little timeless and floaty, since it no longer signifies a strict linear progression of events.

This comic is doing a lot of interesting things with page layouts! I definitely recommend checking it out with an eye for what stylistic rules it follows, what rules it breaks, when it breaks them and why.

Also just read more comics in general. Can't stress that enough. It's win-win.

[buckybleu]

❣︎ before paris ❣︎

pairing: artist(painter)!Shangqi/Shang-Chi x fem!reader

summary: A train ride to Paris leaves a painter to meet his muse.

warnings: fluff; just a good ol' fashion love story blooming

A/N: Sorry it's been awhile since I've written or posted anything. But we're back and this time for @tom-whore-dleston 500 followers writing challenge (congrats again babe 💖). It is inspired by the opening scenes of "Before Sunrise", one my favorite romance movie (along with the rest of the Before trilogy). I hope you enjoy, happy reading! 🎨

**Please do check out the rest of her 500 followers writing challenge masterlist, so many other amazing stories have also been submitted.

word count: 1.9k

reblogs/likes/comments are greatly appreciated! ❤️

The French countryside passes you like a blurry dream, one you wish you could recall every detail to daydream the coming night. The window creaks as the train speeds across the tracks; the shaking and rumbling nearly lull you to sleep, the words inked in the book in front of you slowly forgotten. Aside from the soft vibrations of the train, loud voices of a couple seated in the booth beside you, keep you awake. A couple no older than 45, quarrel with one another. Your three years of high school French picks up bits and pieces of their argument.

Something about missing the correct stop and airplane tickets. Your body jumps when the woman bolts from her seat and starts towards the next carriage, her husband following quickly behind. Their scene doesn’t go unnoticed, their harsh tones definitely disrupting other passengers. Your pointer finger plays with the corner of the page, eyes focused on the city coming into view, mesmerized by its beauty.

“Je suis désolé de vous déranger. Puis-je avoir ce siège?” You turn your head, only be met with warm, honey eyes. A man with dark fluffy hair gives you a gentle smile. He’s dressed in a white shirt and onyx pants speckled with colorful paint, an olive blouson jacket tied around his waist. He has a sketchbook tucked under his arm while a distressed, caramel leather satchel sits on top of his shoulder.

You offer him an apologetic smile, “Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t speak french.”

“Sorry, uhm. Is it okay for me to sit here? A couple was arguing in the other carriage and I couldn’t focus.”

“Of course, please.” You move your bag onto the floor by your feet, as the stranger settles in beside you. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“I’m Shangqi, nice to meet you.” When you shake his hand, you notice the graphite staining knuckles and side of his palm. “So, where are you heading?”

“Not sure if I’m being honest. I might stay in Paris for a bit. Maybe take a train to Brussels, possibly Luxembourg too.” You recline into your seat and turn towards Shangqi, “And you?”

There’s a strange magnetic pull towards you that Shangqi can’t put his finger on. Maybe it’s the way how freely you answered him; no schedule or agenda to dictate your travel, no worries to anchor you down. How effortlessly beautiful you appear in a soft periwinkle sweater and denim skirt. If he didn’t know any better, you were an angel sent by the heavens to grace the earth.

“Paris.” It’s the only answer he’s able to give, still beguiled by you. He shakes himself from your trance when you ask him what’s his plan there. “I’m a painter. My work is being showcased at an art gallery.”

“You must be a big-time artist if you have a whole art gallery dedicated to your work.” Your tone isn’t condescending but genuine and intriguing.

“I mean, I wouldn’t say anything big. Just a painter.” Heat dusts across Shangqi’s cheeks, unable to fully accept your compliment.

You offer him a reassuring smile, “Painters are artists, no? Artists in their own unique creativity and medium. I think you’re being too humble. I’m positive whatever is being showcased, is amazing.”

“You seem so sure for someone who’s never seen any of my work.” Shangqi’s laugh is light and music to your ears. It’s a sound that you wished you could hear everyday for the rest of your life. Every morning when you wake up and every night before you go to sleep.

“Show me then.”

○•*•○※○•*•○※○•*•○※○

For the remainder of the train ride, Shangqi shows you every piece in his sketchbook, photos of his previous gallery in San Francisco and New York, and enthusiastically retells the story of how he accidentally spilled a gallon of neon pink paint on best friend. There’s no awkward pause, just laughter and banter between one another. For two people who have only known each other for 25 minutes, they gazed and conversed like they’ve known each other for 25 years. Old pals catching up.

“Alright, I feel like we’ve talked enough about me. Let’s talk about you” Shangqi proposes. You and Shangqi had moved the conversation to the dining car, an espresso sitting in front of the both of you. The dining car is a bit more lively; other passengers chat while sipping on tea or munch on pastries and sandwiches.

You set down your cup and rest your chin on the palm of your hand, “What do you want to know?”

“Anything.” Shangqi doesn’t care what you give him, as long as it's something. “Maybe why Paris?”

“What do you mean?” You sit forward, curious about how he’ll answer.

Shangqi clears his throat and leans closer to you, his voice a bit quiet. “You said you’re staying in Paris. What’s in Paris for you?” His heart starts to flutter when a smile spreads across your lips.

“A lot of things are in Paris, Shangqi.” Your eyes now focus on the espresso, finger moving the spoon in circles. “I’m not sure what’s there or what I’m looking for. But what I do know is that I’m glad to be there,” You softly chuckle when you look up and see Shangqi’s peculiar expression.

“I’m glad you’re here too.” Shangqi doesn’t register what he’s said until you let out an airy laughter. “I-I mean uhm, if you didn’t come to Paris I wouldn’t have met you here. The train ride probably would’ve been much more boring.”

“Maybe, but you’d probably be occupied with your sketches and what not.” For the first time during your conversation, there’s a small pause. Your gaze is set on the falling sun outside your window. Shangqi takes this moment to take in how hues of orange and pink rest on your face, light illuminating the high points of your face. Your eyes sparkle like diamonds, expression angelic.

You turn your gaze back to Shangqi, a hopeful diction plays in your voice. “I think I’m in Paris to find beauty.”

“Beauty?” Shangqi quizzically asks.

“Within myself, that is.” There’s something sad in your eyes, but your smile hides it. “C’mon, we only have an hour left before we get to Paris. Let’s go relax a bit.” You leave no room for Shangqi to argue as you’re already halfway down the aisle.

○•*•○※○•*•○※○•*•○※○

Shangqi never figured out what you meant by beauty. Beauty within myself, you said. What did you mean by that? He came to the conclusion you’re beautiful inside and out based on the conversation alone. Genuine. Intelligent. Kind. Adventurous. Empathetic. The list goes on. Shangqi has never met anyone like you. One in a million.

Soft snores escape from you, lips slightly parted. The bit of sun emitted a heavenly glow as your head rested against the windows. The sight of you, feet tucked under and his jacket draped across your body, was something Shangqi didn’t know if he'd get another glimpse. Maybe in another lifetime, but here right now, Shangqi wanted to eternalize it.

Shangqi flips open to a clean, empty page in his sketchbook. The moment his pencil touches the paper, Shangqi’s creativity binds to your beauty. He meticulously outlines the structure of your body, slowly adding details to match the alluring curves and dips of you. The mesmerizing attraction of you fuels his mind and hands, drowning all his thoughts and artistry onto the paper. He’s not sure how long ago he finished the portrait, but there’s an eternal happiness Shangqi feels. The beauty he once thought to slip through his fingers, now immortalized by graphite. Pleased with his portrait, Shangqi slips his sketchbook into his satchel. Stealing one more uninterrupted moment, he watches the slow rise and fall of your body.

“Mesdames, messieurs, dans quelques instants notre TGV desservira la gare du Nord. Une minute d’arrêt. Assurez-vous de ne rien avoir oublié.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, in a few minutes our TGV will enter Nord station. One minute stop. Make sure you don’t forget anything.”

The train announcement stirs you awake, rubbing the bits of sleep away. You turn to Shangqi, giving him a sweet smile. “Thank you for the jacket. You didn’t have to.” You hesitantly peel the jacket off, already missing it’s warmth and lingering smell of his bergamot and lemon cologne. “Are we almost there?”

“Yea. Train announcer said we’ll be there in a few minutes. We should probably start packing up” he says.

It’s a comfortable silence as you guys pack, while stealing glances at one another. You want to ask more, wanting to find out where Shangqi’s staying and seeing if he’s up for dinner. But before you could say a word, the announcer notifies you’ve arrived at the station. Passengers swiftly unboard, eagerly ready to go wherever they need to be. You and Shangqi, however, draw out time, holding onto every second left you have with one another.

“So where are you heading to now that you’re in Paris?” Shangqi asks.

“I’m staying with my friend, Yelena. She should be here soon.” You glance around the busy station, hoping Yelena isn’t here yet. You turn back to Shangqi, “Are you meeting up with anyone? Or heading off right away?” There’s a bit of hope in your voice, hope that Shangqi would stay a little longer.

“Yea, I gotta get going. I need to meet up with the gallery director and make sure everything is good to go. But you-” Shangqi is cut off when Yelena runs towards you and wraps her arms around your shoulders.

“Yelena! Hey!” You giggle when she presses a kiss to your cheek. “I’ll be right out, just saying by to a friend”

“Alright, but hurry and wrap it up. Nat and Clint are hungry and grumpy.” Yelena grabs your bags, not before giving Shangqi a deathly stare.

“Is she always that uh, protective?” Shangqi can still feel Yelena’s eyes burning into the back of his head.

“Only with the ones she loves. Yelena is really delightful once she warms up to you.” You look over Shangqi’s shoulder to see an impatient Natasha tapping her watch. “I have to get going, my friends are waiting on me. I had a lot of fun getting to know you, Shangqi. I wish we had more time together.”

You pull Shangqi into a hug, holding onto him longer than one should. Shangqi presses a soft kiss into your hair. You give Shangqi one last smile before you start your way towards the stairs.

You’re halfway up when Shangqi tugs your hand, “Wait I forgot.” He pulls out a small notebook and pen, frantically scribbling something down. He rips off the paper and hands it to you, “My art gallery show. It’s in two days and I’d love for you to come. If you’re not too busy that is.”

You take the paper, smiling at the scribbled address. You plant a quick kiss close to his mouth and smile, “I’ll be there. See you soon Picasso.”

Shangqi’s feet are planted firmly on the staircase, unwilling to move as passerbys enter and leave the station. The soft touch of your lips and its warmth linger on his skin the remainder of the night. There is an unwavering spell you’ve already cast on him and you don’t even know.

You are his muse. And Shangqi will spend a lifetime painting you in color.

○•*•○※○•*•○※○•*•○※○

all errors and mistakes are mine!

main masterlist // Xu Shangqi/Shang-Chi masterlist

[droolingoverfanfics]

Wedding Night

> Alice in Borderland <

Requested by: @praiapersephone

Hi! Can I request an imagine where Chishiya and the female reader is on their first wedding night. Like it will be their first time to do it as a couple coz we know that Chishiya lacks sex drive (I mean you know he rarely show emotions so yeah he must be uninterested being intimate) and the reader is too shy to initiate something on Chishiya. Thank youuuu!

A/N: Sure thing! Sorry it took me so long. I got carried away with their foreplay..so yeah. It is longer than expected. I do hope you enjoy it, though!

Pairing: Chishiya x Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff

Wordcount: ~2.1k

Warnings: Oral Sex, Dom/Sub, Rough Sex, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Finger Fucking, Swearing, Bad Language, Foreplay

It is late at night when you and your newly wed husband enter your shared flat. You step out of your medium high heeled shoes and sigh with relieve, what a pain it was to wear them during the ceremony, but they suit your wedding dress perfectly. You turn to your husband, but he is already in the bedroom, getting rid of his suit and tie, stripping down so that only his boxers are left and sits down on the bed. You blush at this sight, it is not like you have not seen him like this before, but this is the first time seeing him like this as his wife.

Unsure of what to do next, you slowly move into the bedroom too, around to your bed and bend down to the small lamp on your night stand, to bring some light into the dark room. As soon as the bulb lights up, you can see Chishiya staring at you. “Is something wrong?”, he asks with the same tone he always uses, it sounds so calculating and monotone. It makes you even wonder why he lays there in his boxers only, he must be up to something.

“Could you..help me get out of this dress and corset that is underneath? It is hard to untangle alone”, you ask timidly, while not looking at him directly and biting your lip. I could easily do it alone, but I want him to touch me, you think to yourself, in hopes he does not realize that the dress is that easy to open. “Turn around”, he orders you and you quickly obey, letting out a breathe you didn't realize you held in. You get comfortable on the edge of the bed and wait, until he starts working on your dress. You can feel his fingers grazing your soft skin occasionally, which sends shivers down your spine and you try your best to suppress sighing with how good the close contact feels.

You feel the dress and corset loosen more and more, until they hang loosely around your frame, exposing more of your delicate skin. “Th-thank you..”, you mumble and get up, pressing the fabric against you, making your way over to your bathroom, but you stop as soon as you hear his voice. “What are you doing?”, he wants to know, but simultaneously sounds not much interested in your actions.  You turn around and stare at the ground. “I..uh wanted to get changed..into something more..uh comfortable”, you explain while stuttering. “In the bathroom?”, Chishiya continues to question you. You nod, “Yeah, I always changed there.”

He moves to sit on the edge of the bed and looks at you, a smirk plastering his face. “I want you to change in front of me, no, to strip in front of me. I want to see this new lace underwear you bought for our wedding night”, he requests.

You just stand there, staring at him in shock. You didn't even tell him you bought new underwear, you kept it a secret, hiding them underneath everything else and immediately throwing away the receipt after buying them. But now is the moment you were waiting for. Your wedding night. Your first time with Chishiya. You take a deep breath and let go of your dress, letting it slide down to the ground, followed by your corset. You carefully step out of it and make your way over to where your husband sits, now only dressed in your white lace underwear.

Chishiya just looks you up and down, without saying a word. After a while you get nervous and start playing with your fingers, not daring to look at him any further. When he finally breaks the silence, he pulls you down to him and whispers in your ear, “You look good, kitten.”

You find yourself sitting on his lap, wrapping your arms and legs around him and giving yourself fully into him. His words alone send shivers down your spine right to your most sensitive part between your legs, you feel yourself starting to get wet within seconds. Chishiya places soft kisses on your neck, biting and sucking on it occasionally, leaving his mark, until he hits that soft spot which earns him a moan from you.

You can feel his erection grow beneath you and instinctively start to grind your hips against him, making him grunt. You can feel how he grabs your ass and moves the both of you from your sitting position to a laying position, you on top of him, which makes his erection more prominent to you. The next second you can feel his lips press against yours, kissing you passionately while at the same time unclasping your bra and sliding it off your arms, then throwing it away.

You feel his tongue brushing your lips and open your mouth a little for him, giving him way to fight with your tongue over dominance. During your make out session you continue to grind against his erection, which makes you moan because of all the new sensations you can feel throughout your whole body. Encouraged, you break away and start kissing down his neck to his chest and grab the hem of his boxers, crawling between his legs in the process. You look up at Chishiya, waiting for some sort of reaction.

He looks at you, anticipation glistening in his eyes, ready for whatever you are planing. You really have no idea what you are doing, so you hope that he will guide you, but it does not look like it. You slowly drag his boxers down and finally free his already with pre-cum leaking dick. You gulp at the sheer sight of his size and toss his boxers somewhere out of sight. Careful not to hurt him, you wrap a hand around his erection and give it a gentle stroke, which makes your husband groan in pleasure. You add your other hand start pumping his cock with both hands, varying in speed and pressure, to see what pleasures Chishiya the most.

You soon find a rhythm that he seems to really like and decide to go one step further, taking the tip in between your lips and to gently suck it, occasionally tasting his dick with your tongue and licking it up and down, before you take him more and more into your mouth.

When you finally find your flow, you feel Chishiya's hand on top of your head, stopping you. “You want me to finish off that quickly, without pleasing you first?”, he teasingly asks you, panting slightly because of how good you make him feel. You look up at him, giving him an innocent smile and let go of his cock “Lay down”, he demands and you obey immediately, excited for what is to come next.

His hands travel across your body, caressing your soft skin carefully and teasing you, gently rubbing circles here and there, to test where your most sensitive spots are and you humming in response. After some exploration, Chishiya begins to trail kisses down your neckline, down to your breasts, licking over your nipple, then he abruptly sucks it between his lips and gently bites down on the soft flesh, making you moan, while he cups the other one with his hand and gently massages it.

After a few moments he changes sides and does the same procedure to the other nipple, giving it some attention too. You try to grind your hips against him, but he pushes you roughly down, signalling that he is not done yet. He continues to kiss down your belly until he reaches your lace tanga, hooks his fingers into it and drags it painfully slow down your legs, to your ankles and throws it away, leaving you naked. You feel your cheeks heat up and you try to push your legs together, put he sits in between them and is way stronger than you.

His hand trails upwards, from your feet towards your already wet pussy, you are getting wetter the closer he gets. Your breath hitches, watching Chishiya's hand finally reaching your wet core, slowly dragging his fingers through your folds upwards to your clit, making you moan loudly. “You are already so wet for me”, he says with an amusing tone in his voice, looking down on you.

Chishiya starts rubbing circles on the most sensitive part of your body, watching you squirm and moan under his touch. He then pushes one of his fingers into you, giving you a second to adjust to the new sensation of having something inside you. You are already overwhelmed with emotions and feelings and really enjoyed the feeling of his finger inside you, you couldn't wait to find out how his cock would fill you up.

After a few moments, Chishiya starts pumping his finger into you, while his other hand is massaging your breast, occasionally pinching your nipple, which gains some high pitched moans from you. You try to get a hold by grabbing the bedsheet underneath you, buckling your hips up to meet his movement. He then enters a second finger and adds some pressure on your clit with his thumb. You can already feel a strange feeling build up in your stomach. “Ch-Chishiya-ah! It-it feels so g-good!”, you manage to bring out between moaning. Only seconds later your first climax washes over you, but Chishiya gives you no time to ride it out, his fingers simply penetrate you further.

Your husband smirks, looking down on the moaning mess he created. Your moaning only intensifies. “P-please, Ch-Chishiya! Fuck me, already!”, you beg, panting heavily.

“Only because you asked yo nicely, kitten”, he replies, his fingers retreating from your soaking pussy.

He reaches over you to the night stand and grabs a condom from the drawer, carefully opening it and the rolling it over his dick. Chishiya positions himself in front of your entrance and looks at you. “This might hurt now, like a lot. Just warning you”, he states, before slowly pushing himself inside of you, bit after bit. And it really hurt. You feel tears forming in your eyes and claw at the bedsheets, in order to ease the pain. You try to breathe as normal as possible and adjust to his size and it is really helpful that he waits before he starts moving.

Minutes pass by and you give him a weak nod. He begins rocking his hips at a slow pace at first, so that you can get used to it. After a while you let go of the bedsheets and wrap your arms around Chishiya instead, coming to enjoy the feeling of his cock penetrating you. He sees this as a sign to go faster and increases his speed, gaining a loud moan from you and making him groan in pleasure.

“You are so fucking tight”, he compliments you, pounding harder into you, increasing the volume of your moaning drastically.

He locks eyes with you as he penetrates your inner walls. You try to get a hold on anything, clawing his back, knowing that this is most likely to leave some marks, but you don't care.

You feel the same feeling like before building up in your stomach with each thrust and when he stops to drape your legs over his shoulder and slams into you again, you can not hold back any longer. You scream his name in ecstasy, the knot in your stomach building more and more the harder he pounds into you. You can feel him deep in your pussy, touching all the right spots over and over again, sending you over the edge and seeing stars.

“Ch-Chishiya!”, with one last scream of his name you feel the sensation of your second climax crushing down on you and wave after wave is washing over you, while Chishiya is still thrusting deep into you, but you can feel that he gets more sloppy with each thrust. He pumps himself a few more times into you, before you can feel how his seed is filling the condom and he comes with a loud grunt, head hanging low.

After a few moments he pulls out of you and walks into the bathroom, not coming out for the next few minutes. But when he comes back he has a slightly wet towel with him and begins to clean you up, without saying a word. You just lay there, motionless and let him do.

You watch him as he climbs back to you and lays down, waiting for you to get comfortable and snuggle up to him, until he drapes the blanket over the both of you.

“I love you”, you mumble, as you close your eyes, to get some peaceful sleep after such an eventful day.

“I love you, too”, is all you can faintly hear, as Chishiya starts to rub small circles on your back and you fall asleep.

[lucyintheskywithxanax]

Hidden (nsfw)

Pairing: Wilhemina Venable x Fem Reader

A/N: today is Easter Sunday, so I could not not post smut. Remember to honour the Lord, you sinners. x

Warnings: smut (vibrating panties, nothing too graphic really). As always, English isn’t my first language.

Word count: ≈ 3 000

“Ok ok, let me try it. I’m putting it on medium speed, alright?”

Wilhemina glanced up at you from where she was sitting at the vanity, brushing her hair. “Now don’t get too excited –“she started, but before she had time to finish you pressed a button on the remote control and her whole body tensed.

You bit your lower lip to hold back a smirk as a faint vibrating noise came from where Wilhemina was sitting.

Wilhemina’s eyes widened. “Fuck,” she breathed. She dropped her hairbrush and slammed her hands down on the vanity to support herself as her hips bucked.

“Does it feel good?” you asked, assuming an innocent tone.

Wilhemina’s only answer was a low moan as her hips bucked again; her fingers clenched around the edge of the vanity, her mouth fell open, and before you knew it she gasped, arched her back, and shook.

You stared at her, pleasantly dumbfounded. “Did you come already?”

Wilhemina shot you a look. Another moan escaped her. She unclasped one hand to gesture at her lap, eyes fluttering closed then opening again. Your thumb hovered over the stop button, but you were entirely too fascinated by the sight in front of you to dare press it yet. Wilhemina shot you another look. She made to stand up, but her legs were shaking and she fell back onto her chair. A chuckle escaped you.

“Y/N,” Wilhemina started. She cut herself off with a whimper as her hips jolted violently and her body bent at the waist. She supported herself on the vanity, eyes widening, and wriggled on her chair as if trying to get away from her own center as soft, breathless moans dropped from her lips.

You turned the vibrator off.

“Jeez, Mina,” you laughed. “That was only medium speed.”

She glared at you, eyes very dark and cheeks very pink. With a chuckle you crossed to her, cupped her face and kissed her lips.

It had all started with a joke. You had come upon an ad for vibrating panties on a streaming website, and bought them on a whim. Wilhemina’s expression when she had opened the package was one you’d never forget. Her cheeks and ears had turned pink, and she had shot you such a shocked, outraged look you hadn’t been able to stop laughing.

It had taken a lot of persuading for her to finally agree to wear them. On a work day to boot. You said it made it all the more fun. She scoffed, but didn’t argue.   

You made breakfast as Wilhemina finished brushing and tying up her hair. When you heard the sound of her cane in the kitchen you turned, met her slightly annoyed eyes, and smirked.

She scowled at you as she took the mug of coffee you handed her. “Why do I feel like I’m tied up to a time bomb?” she said in a sharp voice, but you heard the amusement in there, too.

“Relax,” you smiled, folding the dish towel and leaning against the stove. “It’s not going to kill you. I think.”

“Well that’s very reassuring.” She pressed her mug against her lips and gave you a look. “I’m not sure you’re mature enough to be given that much control over me.”

“I guess only time will tell,” you joked. You sat down at the table and lay one hand on her thigh. Gave it a reassuring squeeze, just in case.

When it was time to leave, you sat down on the passenger seat and Wilhemina took the wheel. The first few minutes of the drive were silent. You stared out the window at the pedestrians on their way to work, at the lights being switched on in shop windows, at the city slowly waking up in the bright morning light.

The traffic light in front of you turned orange, and Wilhemina pulled up.

You smirked at her. She turned her head to look at you, narrowed her eyes. “Don’t you dare,” she hissed.

You raised your eyebrows innocently. “What?” you asked. “I’m not doing anything.”

You reached into your pocket and wrapped your fingers around the remote control.

Wilhemina immediately stiffened as you pressed a button. Her grip on the wheel tightened, and she shot you a look, breathed, “Y/N…”

“Come for me before it turns green,” you cooed. “I know you can do it. You’re so sensitive, baby.”

Wilhemina mumbled something under her breath. She made sure to keep her face and posture as straight as possible, but a soft gasp escaped her, and her hips shook slightly when she came.

“See?” you teased. You had to clear your throat. Your voice was a little husky. “I was right.”

The traffic light turned green.

“I’m not sure it was a good idea,” Wilhemina muttered. “You’re having entirely too much fun.”

“Oh, and you’re not?” you laughed, but then your expression became serious again. “We can stop, if you – “

“No.” Wilhemina shook her head, a small smile dancing on her lips. “You’re right. I’m having entirely too much fun as well. Oh for God’s sake, speed up, asshole,” she growled at the car in front of you.

You rolled your eyes at her, chuckled fondly.  

Before getting out of the car, she turned her head and stared at you.

“What?” you asked.

“Don’t do anything stupid.” Her voice was sharp, but you caught a glimpse of the nervousness in her eyes.

You took her hand in yours and gave it a squeeze. “I won’t. And remember, you can take them off anytime you want, ok?”

She nodded, leaned in to plant a kiss on your lips. You smiled giddily at her and gave her hand another squeeze.

You were met by a very grumpy Mutt who looked like he could use a good night’s sleep and three mugs of coffee. Apparently he had run out of coke again. Wilhemina made an annoyed clicking noise with her tongue. She looked down on him and said she would take care of his problem promptly.

You shot her a smile as you parted ways towards your respective offices. Excitement beat in your chest. You reached into your pocket and brushed your fingers over the remote control, just to feel it there. 

It proved incredibly hard to work. Your thoughts kept going back to Wilhemina. The amount of trust and power she was offering you was intoxicating. You wanted to run to her office and kiss her senseless.

You held on till 10:30am. Then you texted Wilhemina to ask her if she was alone. You beamed when she answered in the affirmative, and lost no time to turn on the vibrator.

Ten seconds later, your phone rang.

“Yes, darling?” you grinned as you picked it up.

“What are you doing?”

You bit your lip. “You sound a bit breathless,” you said, assuming a casual tone even though heat was quickly filling your head. “What’s going on?”

“Y/N I swear to God – “Wilhemina cut herself off, sucked a breath in.

“Yes?” you asked, voice a bit too high.

“This was the worst idea ever. You obviously cannot be trusted with this thi –“She let out a short, breathy moan that went right through you and made your whole body tingle with desire.

“Fuck, Y/N.”

“Give me another one, baby. I love hearing you.”

“What if I die because of this? Aren’t you going to mourn me?”

“You’re not going to die,” you chuckled.

Wilhemina sucked in another breath. “Y/N,” she rasped.

Your eyes fluttered closed. “Yes?” you breathed. You summoned her image behind your eyelids: her lips would be slightly parted, her brow pushed up, her eyes closed certainly; a delicate blush covering her cheeks, the soft brushing of her lashes against her skin.

You could hear her somewhat erratic breathing, the soft gasps that fell from her mouth and that made your core throb. You pressed your phone harder against your ear as if that would enable you to hear better.

Wilhemina whimpered your name, and then there was a noise as if she had dropped her phone.

“Mina?” you called. 

“I’m here.”

You shifted in your chair, wincing at the wetness that had gathered between your legs.

“Maybe we should take the rest of the day off,” you breathed. “Tell Jeff and Mutt we’re both sick.”

Wilhemina let out another whimper. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she hissed.

“Spend the rest of the day in bed,” you went on. “Wouldn’t that be nice? Wouldn’t you like that? Making love until we both can’t walk anymore.”

Wilhemina took a sharp intake of breath which made you press your thighs together. You were starting to think that maybe this whole vibrating panties thing was a bad idea. You weren’t sure you’d be able to wait till the end of the day to ravish Wilhemina yourself. Surely you should have thought this through better.

“Y/N,” Wilhemina said quietly, but this time it sounded like a warning. She cleared her throat, and when she spoke again her voice had regained its usual sharpness. “I’ll expect your report on my desk before noon, Miss Y/L/N.” You frowned, confused, but before you had time to speak Wilhemina went on: “Be one minute late and I’ll have you scrub the bathrooms with your tongue and teeth for the next two weeks.” And with that she hung up, but not before you had time to hear a loud chuckle. Jeff’s voice.

You slammed your thumb on the stop button of the remote control and sank back into your seat with a groan. You brought a hand up to your forehead to massage it, took a few deep breaths to help you relax.

About five minutes later, your phone’s screen lit up. A text, from Wilhemina, that only read Thank you. You smiled fondly at the screen, texted her back Of course. Love you.

You didn’t see her or hear of her after that until your lunch break. You two sat side by side as you ate in the cafeteria, your legs touching. You didn’t speak much, but you shot each other knowing glances, and you saw Wilhemina’s lips twitch with a smile more than once.

At 2:00pm you both had to attend a presentation given by Mutt on a new software you didn’t give a damn about. You exchanged a few words with some of your coworkers, then sat down at a table next to Wilhemina.

Mutt had been talking for a little over ten minutes when you started getting bored. You stopped listening to him, and shot a sideways glance at Wilhemina.

A small, wicked smile crept up your lips. With one hand you reached into your pocket, and you rested your other hand on Wilhemina’s thigh. You gave it a gentle squeeze, then pressed the slow speed button of the remote control.

Wilhemina’s expression did not change, but she stiffened on her chair almost imperceptibly. She shot you an offended look, and took hold of your hand on her thigh. You laced your fingers together, glad you had this silent way of communicating.

Someone on your left asked Mutt a question. You nodded at the answer, even though you had no idea what Mutt was talking about. Your heart was beating too fast, and you had to fight the smirk that tugged at your lips. You stroke your thumb over Wilhemina’s before you increased the speed of the vibrator.

It was incredible, how blank she managed to keep her face. The only indication that something was going on was the slow, gradual tightening of her grip on your hand.

Mutt started a video and sat down at one of the tables. You shot Wilhemina another glance, wondering if you should dare. Probably you shouldn’t. But heat was filling up your head again, and adrenaline was flowing in your veins and in the thrill of the moment, you pressed the high speed button.

Wilhemina’s hand squeezed yours so hard you thought she would crush your bones. You crossed your legs, forcing yourself to keep your face as straight as Wilhemina’s. A few seconds later you felt her thigh tremble, her nails digging into your skin. You switched the vibrator to medium speed, but didn’t turn it off.

The video ended – how long had it lasted? what had it been about? You had no idea – and Mutt stood up again, asked if anyone had questions. A woman at the back of the room raised her hand.

Wilhemina’s thigh trembled again. This time, her hips jerked slightly, but when you glanced at her, her face was as unreadable as ever. She met your eyes; hers were dark and heated.

You licked your lips. Wilhemina’s eyes flicked down to them. You stroked your thumb over her skin to help her ground herself and glanced at her in awe as her hips jerked again. Her shoulders slumped slightly as she came off her latest high, and she shifted uncomfortably on her seat, so you reached into your pocket and turned the vibrator off. Her hand gave yours a weak squeeze.

You noticed how her legs were slightly shaking when she stood up at the end of the presentation. You lowered your head and smiled to yourself. When you looked up again, she was already walking off, leaning a bit more heavily than usual on her cane, but when she reached the doorway she paused. She cocked her head to the side, as if she were making up her mind about something. Then she disappeared down the corridor.

It was even harder to focus on your work for the rest of the day. You kept glancing up at the clock on the wall. You barely got anything done, legs bouncing, heart beating too fast. More than once you had to force yourself not to run to Wilhemina’s office and lock her door behind you. When finally it was time to leave, you rushed out of the building and to the car park, where you and Wilhemina would usually meet to drive back home.

She arrived five minutes later, and your eyes devoured her body as she slowly, regally, walked up to you. You checked the place was empty before you slipped one arm around her waist, pulled her close and crashed your mouth against hers.

You kissed her until her hand came up to tug at your hair, hard. You pulled away with a gasp, met her eyes. Her pupils were blown wide, and her gaze was so wild and predatory it sent a shiver of delicious fear down your spine.

“You drive,” Wilhemina rasped. She leaned in, licked a trail up your neck with the tip of her tongue. “Be sure to make it home in half the time.”

The front door of your house had barely closed behind you two when you heard the sound of her cane as it hit the floor and then she was all over you, one hand cupping your face and the other pressing you against her as her lips and tongue and teeth claimed dominance over yours. Her nails dug into your cheek, her mouth planted hot, wet kisses down your neck that made your legs go weak. There was only heat and lust and love in your brain, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to resist her, knew she would take revenge on you now if you let her; so you grabbed the remote control and pressed the high speed button.

Wilhemina let out a loud moan, hips bucking into yours at the sudden sensation. Her eyes opened wide, and she gasped into your mouth as her hand clutched the back of your shirt. “Not fair,” she hissed. She nipped your lower lip, swallowed another moan. You wrapped your arms around her waist to support her as she climaxed, the tremors of her body running through yours as if you were one and the same.

Wilhemina’s hips shook violently, making her wince. “Turn it off,” she hissed weakly. “For God’s sake turn it off.”

You quickly obliged. She sank into you, your grip on her the only thing keeping her on her feet, and pressed her forehead against yours. You touched your nose to hers as she struggled to catch her breath.

After a few moments, her eyes fluttered closed.

“Sleepy?” you whispered fondly. “Or do you have enough strength left for another round?”

Wilhemina shivered. “Lord, have mercy,” she breathed. She opened her eyes, looked at you with a soft, adoring smile.

You made her dinner, helped her undress and lathered her body in the shower, careful to avoid touching her overstimulated core. You dried and combed her hair, and she insisted she did the same for you. She grazed her nails on your skull, pressed delicate kisses on your temple.

The sun had not yet set when you both settled in bed. Wilhemina lay on her back and you rested your head on her chest, slipping one hand under her shirt to feel her skin. It was way before your usual bedtime, but you couldn’t care less. Happiness was holding her.

You turned your head to kiss her collarbone. “Are you very sleepy?” you asked with a grin.

“Wait for your turn,” Wilhemina mumbled. “I’ll make you cry. You’ll be so embarrassed.”

You chuckled, caressed the soft skin just below the swell of her breast. “Whatever, babe.”

There was a quiet, comfortable pause. Wilhemina draped one arm around your waist.

“Do you have any idea what Mutt’s presentation was about?” you asked her.

“No.”

You chuckled again. “I’m so impressed by your poker face.”

“Took years of practice,” Wilhemina mumbled.

You blinked at that, at the hidden implication of her words. You couldn’t think about it for too long without becoming angry, so you took her hand in yours and brought it to your lips.

She opened her eyes as you pressed two kisses on each of her knuckles. Then you rested your linked hands on her stomach, and nuzzled her skin.

“I’m glad we can put that skill of yours to good use now,” you whispered.

Part 1  / Part 2 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

Tag list: @mssallymckenna @supremeinlilac @pluied-ete @rainbow-hedgehog @pearplate @angelxsarahp @paulawand @asktammyr @peggycarter-steverogers @coconutlipss ​ @saucy-sapphic @thesupremewife @paulsonpills @notokpaulson

[nibeul]

hi okay so i’ve been following along ur redesigned tbb ref sheets and i Need to Know why u drew their bodies that way

bc when i see them i think of this photo set (that was done in the 90s? i think?) that’s of all these US female olympians from different sports and it’s showing us that different body types are good at different things. the purpose of the photos was to show that these women are at the peak of athleticism and how much they weigh doesn’t matter.

i rly hope this doesn’t sound creepy but i keep thinking abt how u drew hunters thighs and it makes me curious if u did that on purpose bc u hc him as a rly fast runner (for example) or if u just arbitrarily decided to give them diff body types

don’t worry, you’re not creepy at all! the short answer to your question is yes, the body types I gave them was very intentional.

To elaborate more, I’m just going to go through and give explanations for each

Crosshair: Crosshair has a very thin, box-like shape because he’s a marksman. He doesn’t see a whole lot of upfront action, and being lithe allows him to get around quicker/fit into spaces that he needs to in order to get an edge. There isn’t much need for him to build muscle mass because normally he’s on the outskirts of a battle or providing overwatch. He doesn’t have a lot of body fat but he doesn’t have a lot of muscle either, so he’s pretty light too. 

Tech: Tech is kind of similar to Crosshair except that he’s more toned since he does get more upfront action. That being said, he doesn’t rely on brute strength and tends to hop around a lot (also a note to what I HC his “defect” to be), using his speed and agility to his advantage instead. I think he’s efficient when it comes to CQB, and he has enough muscle that he can throw a nasty punch or kick but not so much that he can rely on it to take hits. 

Hunter: I actually did draw Hunter’s legs like that with the idea that he’s pretty fast! I think that he has a lot of endurance, and I think he can put a lot of power into a singular kick (I think I picked up on this while watching the arc in season 7, actually). He’s more muscular in comparison to Tech and Crosshair because he can rely on his strength to push through, and his fighting style actually revolves around that. Also, I HC that his gear might be a bit heavier. 

Echo: Echo is like, the happy medium between Hunter and Tech. He was probably more like Hunter before he was nearly killed (because ARC gear is heavier, so it makes sense that he would build up a decent amount of muscle mass from hauling it around), though he lost a lot of his weight thanks to captivity, so regaining that is going to take a bit. Like Hunter, I do think that he had a more upfront fighting style, though because of his injuries, he’s probably dialed it back a bit into something more like Tech’s.

Wrecker: Lastly with Wrecker, he’s basically the tank. I think his is pretty self explanatory, though I did give him some chub because I think he deserves it and also because having him maintain a Dorito shape just doesn’t feel.. realistic? Like, fat does help with absorbing impact from blows and such, so I feel like it makes sense for him to have some fat instead of just being all muscle, especially with his nature as a tank. He takes the hits because he can, and his fat helps him do that

I started thinking about this when drawing them because I wanted to try different body types and make them distinguishable, so that is a summarization of my thought process! 

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 10

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

From: dscully@fbi.gov

Sent: April 28, 1997 10:46am

To: mreyes@fbi.gov

Subject: Coffee?

Hi Monica,

It’s Dana, from pathology. I was wondering if you’d like to get coffee tomorrow around lunchtime? I have a break in classes from 11-2, so anywhere in there would be fine.

I hope things are going well with VICAP.

-Dana

From: dscully@fbi.gov

Sent: April 28, 1997 10:48am

To: fmulder@fbi.gov

Subject: Wednesday/Thursday

Hi,

I’m mildly shocked that you hadn’t already emailed me before I got in today. Are you alive?

If you’d like to meet up for lunch or coffee this week, I can do Wednesday or Thursday, sometime in the 11-3 timeframe. Let me know which works for you and I’ll block the time out so nothing else ends up on my schedule.

From: mreyes@fbi.gov

Sent: April 28, 1997 11:12am

To: dscully@fbi.gov

Subject: RE:Coffee?

Hi Dana,

I’m so glad you reached out. I’d love to get coffee tomorrow; I can meet you just outside the autopsy bay at 1pm, if that works?

I look forward to it.

-Monica

From: fmulder@fbi.gov

Sent: April 28th, 1997 12:16pm

To: dscully@fbi.gov

Subject: RE:Wednesday/Thursday

Hi Scully,

I see that my exceptional self control has paid off in spades. I am alive, and have resisted emailing you this morning through a combination of sheer will and a two-hour budget meeting.

Wednesday sounds perfect, I’ll be there at noon. Don’t ask me how many hours that is from now because I haven’t calculated it and I have no idea.

———

About an hour after returning from her coffee date with Monica, which was very pleasant and is something she hopes to repeat, she starts to feel just a little bit achy. She pushes through the rest of her work for the day and by the time she slumps through her apartment door at six, there’s no denying that she’s sick. She takes some Tylenol and goes to bed, hoping it will have passed in the morning, but when she wakes up it’s even worse. She calls in sick to work and goes back to sleep.

When she wakes again, the phone is ringing. She ignores it, only for it to start ringing again the moment the machine picks up. Dragging herself out of bed with a pained moan, she trudges to the hallway, retrieving the cordless phone and walking back to her bedroom as she answers.

“Hello?”

“Scully! Are you okay?”

“What? Yes. Mulder?” She burrows herself back under the covers with the phone tucked against her ear.

“Yes, it’s me, you didn’t answer my emails all morning and never showed up for our coffee date. I was worried.”

“Shit, Mulder, I’m sorry. I came down with something yesterday and called out sick. I totally forgot we were having coffee today.”

“You’re sick?” he asks, clear concern in his voice.

“Yes, just a virus or something, I’ll be fine.”

“Can I bring you something? Soup? Juice? Bad movies?”

She chuckles a little. “No, you don’t need to do that.”

“Who's gonna take care of you?”

“Mulder, I’m a grown adult with a cold, I can take care of myself.”

“Are you sure?” She can tell by his tone that he wants to do this more for himself than for her.

“Yes, I’m sure. I don’t want you to see me all sick and disgusting, Mulder. It’s too soon to ruin your image of me,” she says somewhat sarcastically.

“Seeing you sick is not going to change how I feel about you, Scully,” he says very tenderly, and she knows he means it. Still, she doesn’t like the idea.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? Sorry to make you drive an hour for nothing. Rain check?”

He sighs noisily. “Okay, fine. I think you inadvertently left ‘stubborn’ off your list of flaws, though.”

“Well, I didn’t want to ruin all the surprises,” she replies with a smile.

He reluctantly says goodbye, and as soon as he hangs up, she calls the first number on her speed dial.

“Hello,” calls Missy in her typical singsong greeting.

“Missy, can you come over?” she whines, little sister mode in full effect, “I’m sick.”

Missy arrives forty five minutes later and fusses around, gathering a glass of water, Tylenol, and the thermometer that is buried in the bottom of a bathroom drawer. Dana has relocated to the couch, and makes a face around the thermometer propped under her tongue when Missy sets four crystals of different shapes and colors on the coffee table, along with two herb-filled capsules. The thermometer beeps angrily and Missy plucks it out of her mouth, shaking her head.

“One hundred and two,” she says with a frown, “here, take these,” she holds out two Tylenol and two of the herb capsules with a glass of water.

Dana takes the Tylenol and leaves the others.

“Whatever those are, I’m not taking them. And you can pack up your crystals,” she says to Missy as she pops the Tylenol and chases them with a big gulp of water.

“They’re just echinacea, Sis, they won't kill you. And neither will the crystals.”

“But they also won’t help,” Dana says dryly, setting her water on the coffee table and burrowing back under her blanket.

“Well, I’ll just leave them right here,” Missy says, standing and going to the kitchen. “Why’d you call me, anyway? Shouldn’t playing sick maid be Mulder’s job now?” She’s looking through cupboards, pulling out a pot and a can of soup.

“It’s too soon for him to see me all congested and disgusting,” Dana replies, stifling a shiver. “He wanted to come over, but I told him not to.”

There’s a knock at the door. Dana sits up, exchanging confused looks with Missy.

“Did you order food?” Dana asks, and Missy shakes her head, moving to the door.

Dana watches from the couch as Missy opens the door to find no one on the other side. She looks at the floor, then down the hall one direction and the other. She stoops down and picks something up, then walks back to the couch with a paper bag.

“What is that?” Dana asks, and Missy shrugs, setting it on the coffee table and sitting at Dana’s feet. There’s a sheet of paper stapled to the bag, and Missy plucks it off, opening it while Dana explores the contents; a carton of tom kah gai soup.

Missy’s face is a mask of confusion as she reads whatever is written on the paper.

“What does it say?” Dana asks, and Missy hands it to her.

Every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own: in pain and sickness it would still be dear. Your mind is my treasure, and if it were broken, it would be my treasure still.

Dana’s chin puckers as her bottom lip sticks out in a pout. “Oh my god,” she gushes, “it’s Mulder.”

“What the hell does this mean?” Missy asks, taking the paper back and reading it again. “Does he write poetry or something?”

“No,” Dana answers, pulling the lid off the container and breathing in the spicy coconut smell, “it’s a quote from Jane Eyre.”

“Oh my god,” Missy says with a disgusted look, “you two really are meant for each other. This is sickening, Dana, you realize that, right?”

Dana is smiling, taking sips of the hot Thai chicken soup that he somehow knew she needed. “Yes, he’s also a giant nerd, if that’s what you’re saying. But beyond that, I don’t think we have much of anything in common, actually.”

“You both work for the FBI,” Missy offers.

“Yes, but in totally different areas. And he’s an atheist, and believes in unverifiable phenomena like aliens and spontaneous human combustion. And he’s impulsive and easy going, and he makes decisions with his gut,” Dana lists off Mulder’s attributes like she’s describing the trim level on a car. He’s cute, and he has a leather interior.

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t use any of those words to describe you,” Missy says pointedly, setting the note on the table, where Dana plucks it back up and reads it again. “But there’s something to be said for being with someone who’s different from you.”

“I don’t really buy into the idea of ‘opposites attract,’” Dana says flatly. “I think that’s just a lie people tell themselves to justify horribly mismatched partnerships.”

“I think ‘opposites attract’ implies that your qualities clash, like the odd couple. One is messy and the other is clean,” Missy replies, propping her elbow on the back of the couch. “But I heard about this idea of ‘perfect opposites’ which is more like someone who complements you, or helps kind of level you out. So perhaps you lean to the extreme in some areas where Mulder leans to the other extreme, and you learn to meet somewhere in the middle.”

Dana gives her a doubtful look. “What is the middle between believing wholeheartedly that Bigfoot exists, and knowing that he doesn’t?”

Missy takes this under serious consideration. “I think,” she says without a hint of sarcasm, “that the medium would be accepting that it’s possible that he exists, and possible he doesn’t, but there's no way to know for sure.”

“So a Bigfoot agnostic?” Dana asks, and Missy nods in confirmation.

Dana shakes her head. “Maybe you should have gone out with him, I think you two might be better suited.”

“Don’t give me any ideas,” Missy says with a coy smile. “Speaking of which, does he have any single friends?”

Dana shrugs around a gulp of soup. “I don’t know, I haven’t met any of his friends.”

“Well, when you do, keep an eye out would ya? Now that I’ve lost my single buddy, I may as well get back out there. God knows it’s torture enough hearing your lurid tales from the bedroom.”

“Missy, I haven’t told you a single lurid tale,” Dana chastises.

“I know, what’s up with that?” Missy retorts in mock offense, “speaking of, what happened when he took you out to dinner Sunday night?”

Dana shakes her head.

“Oh come on, Dana. I have no life, let me live vicariously,” Missy whines.

Dana shakes her head again. “The only thing I’ll say is; maybe don’t eat off the kitchen counter,” she says before giving Missy a guilty look.

Missy’s mouth drops open.

“Wow, I’m not sure if I’m more grossed out or jealous,” she says as she stands, “I’m gonna get out of here, if you’re good. I think I need to go pick up a guy at a bar for some meaningless sex.”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks for coming by. If you need a condom there are some in the bathroom,” she adds with a sarcastic smile, and Missy sneers at her.

“Ha, ha,” Missy replies as she slips on her shoes and opens the door, “last time I checked, you can’t get pregnant from a vibrator.”

Dana gives her a sympathetic pout and Missy pulls the door closed behind her.

———

It’s a quarter past eight when the phone rings, and he pushes Priscilla onto the floor to retrieve it from his desk.

“Hello?”

“I can’t find it,” says a garbled voice.

“Hello?” he asks again, “who is this?”

“It’s really cold. It’s also too hot,” the voice says around a sound like fabric moving over the mouthpiece.

“Scully?”

“Yes?”

“Are you okay?”

There’s a pause. “Mulder?”

“Yeah, I’m here. Are you okay?”

“Mulder, where are you?”

“I’m at home. You called me at home. Is Missy there?”

“No, she had to take her vibrator to a bar,” she answers, and it’s clear that she’s completely delirious.

“Scully, I’m coming over,” he says, standing up to find his shoes and wallet. “Hey, Scully, I need you to do something for me, okay?”

“Hmmm?”

“Can you stand up, and walk to your front door?”

She sighs. “That’s very far.”

“I know it is, but I need you to unlock the door so I can get in. I don’t think your super would be very happy if I broke it down.”

He hears her groan and her voice becomes quieter, then disappears. He waits, and just when he thinks she may have hung up, she picks the phone back up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, did you unlock the door?”

“Mulder?”

“Yes, it’s me.”

“Mulder, where are you?”

He snickers a little. “I’m on my way over, did you unlock the door?”

“I...I don’t remember,” she says, and she sounds exhausted.

“That’s okay, go back to bed. I’ll figure it out. See you soon, okay?”

“Okay, bye, Mulder.”

He waits but the line doesn’t go dead. He hears her shuffle around a bit and then it’s quiet for a long time. Setting the phone on its cradle, he drives over to her apartment.

The door is, thankfully, unlocked, and all the lights are off.

“Scully?” he calls out, not wanting to scare her. “Scully, are you awake?”

When he gets no response, he slips off his shoes and makes his way to her bedroom, calling out her name intermittently. He finds her twisted up in her sheets, and one touch to her forehead has him jerk his hand away with how hot she is. He strips the blankets off of her, finding her in only a T-shirt and panties underneath. Next he finds a washcloth in the bathroom and soaks it with cold water, then grabs two Tylenol and a glass of water. When he returns to the bedroom and drapes the cloth over her forehead, she starts and opens her eyes momentarily, but then closes them again.

“Scully,” he says softly, shaking her shoulder, “I need you to wake up, honey. I need you to take these.”

Her eyes open slowly and she blinks at him with heavy lids.

“Mulder?” she asks groggily, and he gives her a sympathetic smile.

“I’m here. Can you sit up and take these?”

He helps her prop herself up just enough to swallow the Tylenol and a sip of water before she collapses back against the pillows.

“I feel like shit,” she complains, but her eyes are already closed and she’s on her way back to sleep.

“I know. Get some rest. I’ll be here.”

———

She wakes up to harsh beams of sun pouring directly through her eyelids. Her first thought is that Ethan forgot to close the blinds again, but then she remembers that she and Ethan aren't together anymore and he doesn’t live here, so she must have forgotten to close them. She moves to roll out of bed and is met with the shock of aching muscles, and remembers that she had been raging with fever last night. She probably shouldn’t have let Missy leave, but thankfully the fever seems to have broken during the night. She rolls away from the window, no longer motivated to get up and close the blinds, and finds herself nose to nose with a sleeping Mulder.

“What the hell?” she says out loud, and he opens his eyes and smiles at her.

“Hi,” he says softly, “how do you feel?”

She gives him a perplexed expression. “Confused. How long have you been here?”

He chuckles “I knew you were out of it, but I didn’t think you were that far gone. You don’t remember?”

She shakes her head ruefully.

Mulder rolls to his back and stretches, then turns back to face her. “You called me last night, totally out of it, and I came over to make sure you were okay.”

“How did you get in?” she asks skeptically.

“You let me in.”

Her eyes widen.

“You were burning up, I just force fed you some Tylenol and kept an eye on you. Around 3am you started shivering, so I think that’s when the fever broke.”

She is quiet for a moment, taking in her surroundings. “Mulder...am I not wearing pants?”

He holds up his hands in self defense. “That’s how I found you, Scully, Scout’s honor.”

“What time is it?” she asks, feeling disoriented.

He peeks at his watch. “A little after nine.”

She sits up too quickly and gets dizzy. “I’m late for work,” she says, one hand to her head.

“Scully you were delirious with fever six hours ago, you’re not going to work. I called for you,” he says, sitting up too.

She gives him an incredulous look. “You called out sick to work for me?”

He nods.

She sighs and looks away from him. “I got the soup, and the note,” she says, “thank you.”

“Of course,” he answers, rubbing a palm over her back.

She looks back at him, taking in his sleep rumpled hair and second day stubble. She furrows her brow, a slight scowl on her mouth.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“You’re my boyfriend, aren’t you?” she says with a defeated tone, and he laughs.

“I’d sure like to be, if you’ll have me.”

She groans and slumps against him, sighing as he wraps his arms around her, petting her hair.

“Okay, fine,” she says flatly.

“Well don’t sound so excited about it,” he teases, and she pulls back and smiles at him.

“Thanks for taking care of me,” she says softly.

“Thanks for letting me,” he replies.

[stxrvel]

cowboy like me

summary: a bad day for Bucky, a splendid week for the woman. mixed feelings and memories of a stormy past prevent Bucky from giving voice to his true feelings. (I'm really sorry I'm so bad at summary's)

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

words: 2k or so.

warnings: poor bucky letting his feelings get the better of him and saying mean things from time to time, sorry bout that. oh, and I wrote this in the third person, I don't know if that's a warning but still. and last but not least, English is not my native language so I apologise in advance for any mistakes.

also, the title of this and the part of the song quoted below only inspired the setting of this one-shot. the "plot" is independent of the theme song. I just have a bunch of taylor's songs that inspires me scenarios like this with independent plots, it's like a hobby. and ALSO, this is my first fic in here, and I really hope to do more parts in the future, especially when this semester is over. so, I hope you like it!

you're a bandit like me eyes full of stars hustling for the good life

It had not rained like this for quite some time. Lightning echoed in every part of the city and the drops were crashing against the window glass with the speed of a Maserati on a winding road; the sky was dark even though it was only four o'clock in the afternoon. Inside the room, the atmosphere was warm and comfortable, one of the reasons she stopped by at least five times a week. However, a few minutes before the downpour began, the whole atmosphere had turned so grey that for a moment it seemed as if the clouds were bringing a bad omen...

But no, it was only him.

The man who always sat next to her in the cafeteria to use one of the computers that the café provided as a service.

Besides the sound of the bell above the door and his soaked boots, it was his exasperated sigh that caught her attention before she looked away from her laptop screen.

His hair fell over his forehead with a few raindrops slipping from his forehead and temples, until they were lost under his jawline and mingling in the cotton of his shirt. The frown he kept on his face did not disappear as he tried, very unsuccessfully, to dry his clothes by shaking them slightly.

He would definitely do anything to keep that leather jacket and gloves on.

The smell of coffee and the hustle and bustle of the room contrasted with the calm but resignedly helpless attitude of the man who was running his hands heavily over his trousers as if they were a portable hairdryer.

Michael, one of the waiters who occasionally gave them ham and cheese croissants on Saturdays when they were both there, approached the sulking man and, seconds later, they both disappeared into the kitchen behind the till.

The screen of her mobile phone lit up as she tried to refocus on the reading she had to do.

Betty: I still don't understand how not wanting to visit your abusive dad in hospital is an important topic of conversation in a counselling session. I mean, the words abusive father say it all.

Tell me you're on my side.

Me: I still think you should change your psychologist.

Betty: I know! But at that clinic it's 30% cheaper than getting a private one. But, I already have a solution, next week I'll...

The squeak of the chair next to her being dragged startled her and her mobile phone almost flew out of her hands. The grumpy man, now a little drier, dropped the weight of his giant body on the poor chair so that it squeaked as if complaining about the man's rudeness. He stared at the computer screen on as if it held the solution to all his problems.

“Bad day?”

“Just an unfortunate string of inconveniences since I opened my eyes this morning,” he commented seriously and gravely as he began to move his hands over the keyboard. He hadn't looked at her when he spoke, which was not unusual, but at the moment it felt inappropriate, “Nothing I'm not used to.”

The woman turned her head to look at the twenty-seven pages she still had to read, and it seemed too tedious a thing to spend her time on now that Bucky had arrived.

“Is there anything I can do for you? I'm going to apply for a job at a daycare, maybe I could start practicing with you.”

Bucky faked a laugh, rather bitter and strained the kind she was used to hearing, “Very funny,” he said, his gaze dark and fixed on the screen.

“Sometimes you laugh at my jokes.”

“When they're funny,” he blurted out as soon as she finished speaking, instantly regretting it but not showing it in his body language.

“Hey! Don't hurt my feelings like that. What happened with your therapist? If you want to talk about it, sure.”

She watched his body tense and how he made no attempt to hide the bitter expression on his face as soon as the word "therapist" left her mouth. The woman thought she'd made a poor choice of words, yet Bucky felt unsettled by how strangely easily she seemed to be able to read his attitudes. Since when had she started doing such things? Had she always been that way? Had he let his guard down that much these past few weeks?

“Just... trouble, in general,” he pronounced her name with feigned gentleness, sending a shiver down her spine. Had he noticed by now? So soon? She thought, hastily.

“Okay,” she mumbled, trying to keep her composure as her mind worked at full speed, “I understand if you don't want to talk about it.”

No, he couldn't have noticed. Regardless of how damaged and broken she was inside, she knew that wasn't something Bucky paid the most detailed attention to. And, even if that were the case, there wasn't a person on the planet who knew her better than he did at this point, so if he wanted to walk away and leave her to not deal with her problems and constant chatter, he would have done so long ago.

Bucky sighed deeply, the movement of his chest aching from the lump in his throat. His hands moved on automatic over the keyboard, digging into things he already knew, spending the time just trying to divert the train of thought that wouldn't leave him alone. Anyway, is it really so bad for someone to know me like that? He thought, as the woman returned to her reading, it's not bad to be vulnerable once in a while, she's not going to hurt me. I know, I know.

Then why does it scare me so much?

His hands clasped as a third presence appeared between them. Michael, with a giant grin on his face, set two medium-sized cups of coffee on the small table they shared in front of the window. The woman's, with milk and sweetened with vanilla, as she always asked for. Bucky's, black, plain and cold, the way he always drank it.

The girl sitting next to him and the barista shared a couple of words in a conversation that seemed to be too funny, because she kept laughing. Why did he find her laughter annoying? Was it because it was too loud, or because it sounded too high-pitched unlike her normal laughter? When she laughed with Bucky, her tone was softer, gravelly, delicate and jovial. He couldn't describe the sensation that burned in his chest every time her eyes narrowed at her smile, or every time she brought her right hand to her chest, over her heart, as if she couldn't bear to laugh anymore, but at the same time holding back the pain in her cheeks so she wouldn't stop.

Michael didn't get that. No, he wasn't getting what Bucky was.

“Bucky?”

Her chuckling voice disconnected him from the bizarre conjectures in his mind, and he turned his eyes to her. She was looking at him with a rueful smile and her cheeks were too flushed.

“Are you all right?”

The aforementioned reveled in the sight that was plastered in front of him, with her sparkling eyes and the way her lips curved, before replying, “Yeah, all good.”

When he noticed Michael was still there, his shoulders tensed and quickly his gaze refocused on the sea of words displayed on the screen in front of him.

“You're too stiff,” he heard the woman's voice again a few seconds later, “Are you sure you don't want to do something to distract yourself? There are a lot of things coming to mind right now.”

Bucky turned to look at her with a frown.

“What things?”

“Um, last week you told me you've never played twenty questions before.”

The man arched an eyebrow, intrigued by how his mind played him, but quickly replied, “Do I look like the kind of person who plays the twenty questions?”

“Not really, but that day you told me you were willing to try it if I played it with you.”

Bucky was silent for a few seconds.

“I don't remember saying that.”

“Sometimes you don't remember a lot of things for convenience, Barnes,” she teased innocently, but Bucky knew what that meant: you're always evading me when I'm trying to help you.

And well, it was true.

“I imagine you don't remember Sam's invitation to you three days ago either.”

“What invitation?” he played distracted, as he pretended to vehemently read what he'd Googled.

“He asked you to join him to watch a game at the bar two blocks from your flat.”

Bucky hummed as he pretended to think about what he'd just heard, even though he remembered it perfectly. And he knew that earlier in the day he'd left it on hold, which was a clear and express no, but he hadn't said that to the woman who was now staring at him.

“I don't like football.”

The woman let out a snort of exasperation.

“This is why you have no friends, Bucky.”

“I could say the same about you.”

Bucky knew it was a joke. She'd said things like that to him before and it had never bothered him; he knew she didn't mean it in a derogatory way or to make fun of him. She would never do that. But subconsciously, he couldn't stop his mouth from blurting out the words he didn't want to say; words he would never have thought to say to her.

“I know you've had a bad day, Buck,” she spoke again after a few seconds, “But I just want to distract you.”

“I don't need your help, I can manage on my own.”

“Okay, let's just... change the subject, shall we?”

Bucky pursed his lips, but didn't dare connect their gazes.

“I'm sorry.”

“It's okay," she mused, and didn't speak again until a couple of seconds later, “How was your date?”

He gave a small smile before saying, “I'm sure you waited for a reasonable amount of time so you could satiate your curiosity.”

The woman let out a laugh, the kind that had the ability to calm Bucky's countenance for a few moments, before replying, “It's just that ever since I met you I didn't think I'd ever see you going on a real date.”

“And you probably won't again.”

“That's how bad it went?”

Bucky twisted his mouth, only remembering the image in the background of his neighbour's flat.

“It could have been worse.”

“Maybe we're just not cut out for dating.”

After a long moment, Bucky turned his head to watch her pursed lips. Her expression seemed downcast, but she pulled herself together quickly when she felt his gaze on her.

“What we've done or who we've been in the past, doesn't define what we can do or be now,” he reminded her of the words she always said to him when he felt he didn't deserve something good, and watched her nod at his words with a small smile, “Don't torment yourself thinking about it, neither of us had a choice.”

“I could tell you the same thing.”

Bucky smiled, sincerely, and for the first time since he had awoken that morning.

“I apply the philosophy you preach perfectly, I'm a great disciple.”

She elongated a sarcastic laugh that widened Bucky's grin. What was it about her that drew you in and bewitched you like that?

“In a trauma contest, you'd take first place, Barnes.”

“We'd be tied, you mean.”

The woman smiled at him, and between their looks, they both knew they were only hiding the truth behind the humour. Bucky didn't often do it, but since he'd met her, and considering that was something she often did -using humour to cover up the truth she'd rather not accept, or simply to hide the pain-, he'd gotten such a habit of doing it every so often that even his therapist was a little put out the first time he joked about one of his traumas in front of her. It was a very strange scenario that was never repeated.

“I'm sorry for the way I acted earlier,” Bucky took the floor again, a little more relaxed than when he'd arrived soaking wet in the cafeteria, “It's just... I killed my neighbour's son.”

“No,” she replied quickly and firmly, as she did every time a similar topic came up in their conversations, “It was the Winter Soldier. It was a person they created to control and disenfranchise, that wasn't you. It wasn't the Bucky I know. I'm sorry to hear that, but... it wasn't your fault, I know that whatever they did for your mind was always rejected by your body, even if you couldn't control it.”

The man half-opened his lips, wanting to say something, wanting to give voice to the jumble of thoughts concurring in his mind, but nothing managed to come out other than incoherent babbling.

“I... I don't know how to tell him.”

“You really want to?”

Bucky nodded, looking into the woman's shining, understanding eyes as she brought one of her hands up to cradle the side of his face.

“Then you'll find a way. Don't push yourself.”

He rested his right hand on the hand the woman held on his cheek, and leaned his head slightly into her touch. Although the stress and tension did not disappear completely, it did give way to a relaxing and lively sense of calm and stillness. Bucky didn't know if she had done it on purpose or not, but her words, though few, brought back a harmonic undertone he hadn't allowed himself to return to in a long time.

Then you'll find a way.

Don't push yourself.