#tri fold smartphone

[ricisidro]

Forget the iPhones 16 series, Galaxy Flip Fold 6 and Galaxy Flip 6.

Huawei's HuaweiMateXT Ultimate, the world's first tri-fold smartphone is real innovation BUT there is no Google Services. Although there's a work around to get Google Play Store some banking and online gaming apps may not function.

#technology #tech #innovation

[gizchinaes]

Huawei avanza en su sucesor plegable tri-fold con el potente chip Kirin 9020

Huawei se prepara para desvelar el sucesor de su primer smartphone tri-fold, el Mate XT, que hizo su debut el pasado septiembre. Este nuevo modelo promete incorporar mejoras significativas, destacando el chip Kirin 9020, mientras la marca continúa su camino innovador en el sector de los dispositivos plegables. El Mate XT original atrajo la atención como el primer dispositivo tri-fold disponible…

[theblacklewinsky]

Note: I'm feral for this man and this song + struggling w my writing format ( im new to this omg )

JADED | AARON PIERRE.

Toxic!Terry Richmond x Black!Female Reader.

warnings: MNDI!! this story is 18+ with depictions of but not limited to; sexual content ( finger!ng), extreme language (cursing, use of n-word, use of b-word), talking you through it. lil bit of exhibitionism if you squint, mild daddy k!nk.

summary: in which you decide to end the toxic situation-ship you share with Terry— except this man only know how to suck you back in.

tell me that we locked in, locked in, look in my eyes.

tell me that you mine and we ain't just fuckin, ain't just vibin.

Why were you nervous? It wasn't like you'd never been in the very same GMC pickup before—oh you'd been in here plenty times, plenty times. Your eyes flickered to whatever they could, other than him.

The backseat.

The same backseat you'd been folded. flipped, and fucked out on. It was clean now, he'd definitely had some detailing done, the remnants of how he made you squirt only two weeks earlier had vanished, once etched into the seat itself.

And why were you sad about that?

You averted your eyes away from the backseat, firmly turning straight forward in the passenger seat, teeth nervously gnawing at the skin in your jaw. It was way too silent and tense in the truck. Way too silent. "Hi..” you sheepishly muttered, tucking a stray curl from your wash and go behind your ear, eyes darting around the parking lot of your apartment complex. The parking lot was the safest option for you, you knew how incredibly intoxicating Terry was, which meant the more space from your bedroom, the better.

Out of your peripheral, you could see Terry's face contorted into a twisted mix of confusion anger. His brows furrowed together, a mug presenting itself on his face. "What the fuck?" He spat. "Wassup?" He asked, his tone more accusatory than anything.

Where the fuck did he get off acting hurt and confused? That was supposed to be your stance in this whole thing, hurt and confused. And most of the time it was. But tonight, it was a nice change of pace, the hurt and confusion lingered on Terry instead—in which you could finally take on the nonchalant and curt demeanor. It felt so good too. So good to finally not be the one with the lump in their throat, eyes burning from blinking back tears. This felt, good.

"Nothin', just chillin," you simply responded, playing with the smartphone in your lap, acrylic nails tapping at the casing.

"Fuck you mean just chillin?" He asked his brows furrowed as he tried to catch your darting eyes. "You ain't been seein' me text you?"

"Yeah?" You responded slowly in a questioning tone, as you focused on the ASICS on your feet. "Been busy lately."

You seen Terry texts. Shit, the past couple of days he'd been the one blowing you up. It started the other night when he rung your bell and you didn't answer, you knew it was him, and he knew you were home. Lights still on and bright in the kitchen.

Private Ryan: Just rung the bell

Private Ryan: Come out.

Private Ryan: I'm sorry for the way I acted the other night. I ain't handle that situation like a man. Lemme make it up to u

It was so hard ignoring Terry, he made it hard. He didn't text or call often, he wasn't hardcore into his phone like the rest of the generation, maybe the marines played a part in that? Hell, he made sure to stay active in an effort not to get addicted to his cellular device—that's why when he texted it was a big deal.

But no way this nigga thought that you'd be at his every beck and call when he couldn't even solidify a title between the two of you? Casual sex and jealousy gets old—especially when it isn't under the terms of a relationship.

It was fun at first, linking up and sneaking off. Getting folded like a lawn chair when you least expected it, but there was something about Terry that brung the strings to a no-strings-attached situation. You started craving him, wanting him, and you made that very clear, but Terry made his intentions crystal clear from the beginning. How could you fault him for not wanting what you want? But how he could he also fault you for the change in your attitude?

"Busy?" He repeated the word like it disgusted him. His burning gaze tore through you, you could feel the heat radiating from his glare. Terry let out a heavy breath, gently tapping his fist against the staring wheel as he finally averted his gaze to the windshield. Thank Q!

But as he tore his gaze away from you, you centered yours on him. And why the fuck would you go and do that? Knowing how gorgeous he was, especially when he was pissed off? Clenching and unclenching his jaw. He had some nerve coming over here with a fresh cut. Everything so lined up and sexy—

"I came over here, a few days ago," he sternly spoke, the rough edge to his voice only setting off the throbbing in your pussy, "and you know that 'cause you was home, lights on and shit, I'm textin' you and you reading the shit in real time. What the fuck?" He repeated the three words once again. His voice growing rougher by the second.

"Two weeks ago, I'm fillin' you up and today you actin' cold as hell? Fuck is goin on?"

And why did he keep saying all the wrong shit? Filling you up was an understatement, he was stuffing you to the brim quite literally, to the point where he had bottomed out and was still tryna give you more. Filling you up, ha.

"I can't do this anymore, Terry," the words came out of your mouth abruptly, almost like you could trust yourself to say them. Terry sat there unwavering, he didn't speak, he didn't move. This only prompted you to continue. "It's too much, we both want...different things. And I'm tired of feeling like I'm overextending myself to you, being too available for you. I can't do...whatever this is anymore."

"Pea..”

"Don't do that," you firmly responded. The direct eye contact didn't seem to deter you this time. There he went. Playing those mind games. Calling you that nickname. Pea. A shorter version of the popular nickname your grandfather frequently referred to you as, sweet pea.

Terry kissed his teeth. Oh he thought he knew what was up. It'd became clear as a day. "You fuckin' somebody else." The words came out soft, quiet almost as if there had been a realization.

You let out a heavy sigh, your eyes rolling at the comment, " I'm not having sex with anyone, Terry." You spoke truthfully. As if you could. He made that hard enough, he stuffed you perfectly. He knew how to find that spot inside of you so easily, almost like he vacationed there in his spare time. He knew exactly what made your eyes roll back, what made that squeal in the back of your throat come barreling out, he knew your body too well to let anyone else come and have a gander.

"But I am dating," you said more quietly than you anticipated. Maybe it's because the recent dates haven't been anything to brag about. Not that your online dating profile and messages to your homegirl hadn't been highly specific, you've been attracting the same types. Baby daddies and men way too old to still be trying to just hook up. "And I know what I want, and it's not this...anymore. I wanna be able to climb in bed with a man and wake up beside him too, and not worry about him being hot or cold, or when I'll see him again," yuck. Why did you feel that damn lump in your throat again?

"I'm so tired of feeling disposable." You finalized. Flashing your watery eyes to the window adjacent to you. You weren't gonna cry in front of him. Shit, you weren't that tender. But all your feelings hitting you at once in this situation made you more emotional than you gambled for. You knew the nonchalant facade would only last so long on you. Terry was trained in that shit. He had a poker face like no other.

Terry didn't deter his gaze from you, his gorgeous eyes soft and lingering. "I don't try to make you feel disposable, Pea."

"Yeah, well, you don't have to try. You just do." You mumbled quietly. "That's why I don't wanna do this shit anymore."

Terry kept his eyes on you, reaching his large hand out to grasp your smaller one at a failed attempt at interlacing your fingers when you snatched away.

"Stop, Terry!" You frowned folding your arms. "I'm serious. No more calling, and texting, and popping up at my place."

He barely acknowledged you, kissing his teeth and leaning over the center console to rub his hand across your tummy, gripping your sides. "Why you actin' like that? Like you don't miss daddy?" He mumbled softly, pressing soft kisses to your temple.

This man didn't give up. Your restraint was at zero, and just like that you were putty.

You shook your head, arms still crossed as you let out a small whimper in which you claimed to be a protest. Eyes lowering at his wandering hands. "Hm, you don't miss daddy?" He asked in response, his hand sliding back over your tummy, fingers fondling with the button on your shorts.

This is exactly what you wanted to avoid, that was the whole point of the parking lot. Far away from a bed. But you should've known that you didn't need a bed with Terry.

And yet, just like a dumb bitch you shook your head once again. Playing into his sick little game.

He trailed his soft, teasing lips down your cheek until he reached your neck, leaving a searing trail behind on the skin there. You sucked your bottom lip in, a solid attempt at trying to keep whatever moans he was pulling out of you at bay. You couldn't betray yourself even more than you had already done. You came down here to end things, and instead you were about to get folded in half once again. The circle of life if you will.

"You don't miss me? So why you lettin' me take these off you right now?" He asked. Oh he was soo condescending. He tugged on the bottom of your shorts, and look at you, lifting up to help him earning a chuckle. You were so easy. "Nipples been hard ever since I touched you," he mumbled in between kisses to your neck, his hand busying itself up to your breast while your shorts slid down your legs, rubbing your hardened nipple through the thin fabric of your tank top.

You suck in a sharp breath. Your body was on fire. You felt like you were on fire. Every kiss made you hotter, and the way he was touching you had your pussy fluttering. You had to be ovulating, this shit wasn't normal.

"That pussy so wet, I know it," he spoke, his voice lower, lips sucking on the thin flesh on the side of your neck, hand roughly parting your thighs earning another isolated whimper from you. His hand rubbing the inside of your thighs, leaving a lingering tingle behind. He was such a fucking tease sometimes.

He kissed his way back to your cheek, all the while his hands left soft slaps, and grips to your inner thigh. Your eyes fluttered closed at his constant teasing, breathing uneven as hell. You felt like you were swelling with need.

"Look at you, baby," he hummed against your ear, "you a horny fuckin' mess," he tsk'd in your ear, fingers dancing over to your pussy. Fingers lazing dancing over your slit through the thin fabric of your panties. A shaky breath slipped past your lips a soft drawn out moan following. Hell, the betrayal was already done.

"Niggas not treatin' my bitch right, huh?" He rhetorically asked referring to your dates, his own eyes focusing on the lazy dance his fingers were doing on your barely exposed pussy, until he quickly got bored and used those same fingers to move the fabric aside. "Can't be, otherwise you wouldn't be this fuckin' turned on right now." He answered his own questions, fingers immediately doing slow, hypnotizing circles on your clit.

"Fuhhh," you moaned out in response, arms immediately parting so that you could grip onto the sides of your seat for a sense of stability.

"Mhm," he hummed in response, "pussy wet just like I thought," he mumbled dragging his pointer and middle finger up and down your pussy a few times before slowly slipping the both of them in your heated core at once earning a choked out moan from you. You fit around his fingers so perfectly, almost as if he'd molded your pussy to do so.

His brows furrowed as his fingers searched inside of her, knuckle deep, "fuck," he cursed, "look how you suckin' my fingers in you like that. You missed daddy, this fuckin' pussy missed me."

It wasn't like you could respond at all, he was literally pulling your moans out of you with his fingers. His free hand had busied itself with pulling up your tank top and exposing your braless titties.

"Look how you came out here," he kissed his teeth, fingers massaging your slippery insides, the lewd sounds of your pussy squelching on his fingers filled the pickup truck, his other fingers pulling and tugging on your hardened nipples, squeezing softly before quickly pulling away. "Barely fuckin' dressed, you wanted this. You wanted daddy to get you right, huh?"

"Talkin' about' dates, you don't want them fuckin' clowns," he hummed peppering soft kisses on your cheek, his fingers attacking that delicious spot inside of you. "You just want daddy to flood that pussy again? Make you his bitch?"

"Oouu shit, daddy!" You moaned out, eyes squeezing shut as your head lazily fell against his shoulder. Him humming in agreement to your moans followed by a cocky chuckle. "Right there, right there!" You rushed out. Your resolve had slipped away a long time ago.

"Where baby?" He cooed,his tone condescending. "Right here?" He asked his fingers never deterring from the spot, instead he pushed them deeper, faster.

Your eyes rolled back into your head as his fingers continued to work inside of you, he whispered other obscenities to you as he finger fucked you good. Deliciously good. So good that you couldn't decipher or comprehend anything he'd been saying. The sound of your pussy around his fingers was sending you to another bliss you didn't know you could reach.

"Listen to how messy that pussy sound on my fingers, baby," he groaned, his free hand gripping your face firmly, tilting your head up from his shoulder so that he could watch your facial expressions closely. He smiled as he watched you; eyes squeezed shut, lips forming into that familiar frown he knew so well, a long whine following suit.

"Yeah, that pussy wanna cum for daddy don't she?" He asked placing a sloppy kiss on your parted lips.

"Oh my god," you whined your brows furrowing as you opened your watery eyes to Terry looking down right at you.

"Yeah, she do," he mumbled nodding his eyes focusing in on the assault his fingers were doing to your pussy before slipping them out slowly, rubbing the stickiness he accumulated on his fingers onto your clit in slow, agonizing circles earning a whine from you. "You better not fuckin' cum though," he mumbled quietly to you, hand softly tapping against your cheek.

"Don't..cum?" You slurred through a moan for confirmation. You could barely comprehend what he was saying, you were so deliciously close. So close.

"Don't cum," he slapped his finger against your pussy lightly, the wet plaps almost enough to send you over the edge. Only almost though. "Get in the backseat, I wanna get in that pussy." He spoke hand slapping down on your sensitive pussy once again, sending trembles to your already weakened legs.

—

cheers to my first fanfic on here lolz! feedback and criticism always welcome 💗💕 hope you enjoyed xx!

[dreamy-crow]

You are an old friend of Niragi Suguru

Chapter 2 . Amusement park: animal kingdom.

[English is not my native language, so there may be some mistakes. Sorry for that. The game described in this section appeared for one minute in episode 5 of season 1. I accept any criticism, so don't be afraid to express your opinion. At your request, I wrote this chapter. I hope you enjoy it. Enjoy reading. ]

[Size: 4629 words 25,823 characters]

[WARNING: mention of blood, description of animal killing, injuries.]

Today your visa may expire, so you follow the instructions on the billboards to join the game. Your steps become faster each time. Due to the quick movements, the flashlight in your hands started to sway, and accordingly, the light it gave also wavered, but this did not bother you.

By your calculations, this was supposed to be your fifth game. The games you ended up in did not exceed a difficulty level higher than seven. In your first game, you were very lucky to come across a middle-aged man. In the old Tokyo, he worked as a kindergarten teacher, so he had developed a habit of helping other people. During registration, he tried to explain to you as quickly yet as clearly as possible the meaning of the cards, what the numbers on the cards meant, about the red lasers, and why these games were so important for your survival. However, he could not explain how people ended up in the alternative Tokyo. Neither he nor the other people you met knew the answer to this question.

Finally, an illuminated arena appeared on the horizon. By the large Ferris wheel, you were able to understand that this arena was the famous amusement park. You were already standing at the park entrance, catching your breath after running. You approached the white table on which various phones were placed, and next to it was a long-familiar sign: "One phone per person." You took a completely random phone and brought it up to your face; it quickly notified you of identity recognition and successful registration. At the moment, it was not clear what kind of game this was. Due to the large scale of the arena, it could be assumed that the suit of this game would be spades or clubs. There was enough space here to run, as well as enough different attractions to cooperate with other people.

You looked at the people who had arrived before you; they were no different from the people you had met before. That is, they were completely ordinary, with their fears, caution, and anxiety before the game. As a polite person, you greeted them before joining them. With light movements, you took off your jacket, folded it several times, and placed it on the curb, after which you sat on it. If your guesses about the suit of this game were correct, it was worth letting your legs rest after physical activity and gathering new strength.

Soon, footsteps were heard from the direction of the park entrance, and a girl with a bun on her head approached. When she saw people, her eyes widened in surprise, and in them, relief and hope were also born. Even from such a small reaction, it became clear that the girl had ended up in this world only today. As expected, the girl cautiously began a mini-interrogation, but the tall man only told her to take a phone and simply do whatever was instructed. Noticing that everyone had smartphones in their hands, the girl followed the man's instructions. When her face recognition was completed, the girl approached you.

—Excuse me, may I sit next to you?

—Huh? Ah, yes, you can.

The girl was about to sit on the cold curb, but you stopped her. You stood up and spread out your jacket so that there was space for two people. The girl quietly watched you, not daring to ask what you were doing. However, she did not need to do so, as you were about to give her an answer yourself.

—Sit next to me on the jacket. The ground is cold, and I think you wouldn’t want to have health problems.

The girl let out a quiet "Ah" as a sign that she understood your concern. She softly said "thank you," then sat on the other edge of the jacket to avoid invading your personal space. Perhaps the tall man's answers did not satisfy her curiosity, so she nervously started a conversation.

—Do you know where all the people have gone?

—No. You made a small pause before continuing. I don't think anyone knows the answer. One moment, we were going about our daily lives, and the next moment, we found ourselves in a deserted city.

—That's true. I was listening to music. I didn't like the song that was playing, so I decided to switch it, but the phone went dark, and along with it, the music stopped. There were no people around me anymore.

You let out a restrained hum at the girl's story, understanding that something similar had happened to you on the day you arrived.

—What are we going to do now? What are the phones for?

—A game will start soon. As the man already told you, just follow the rules and try to win this game.

—Sounds simple. By the way, my name is Yuina. And you?

—Y/N.

—Nice to meet you. Thank you for telling me.

—You're welcome.

Yuina gave you a bright, grateful smile. Unconsciously, you bit your lower lip—this girl still had no idea what really awaited her in this world. For some reason, you did not go into details to make her realize that this was not just a game. Perhaps you didn’t want to overwhelm her with such cruel information all at once. Or maybe, unconsciously, you made this girl your own safety cushion. If she was a newcomer who didn’t yet know the full reality of the events, this increased your chances of winning—and with that, of survival. Also, if she trusted you, she could become your assistant in the game.

You smiled back at the girl and then simply shifted your gaze forward. A faint humming sound approaching caught your attention. It resembled the hum of a car engine, something you hadn’t heard since old Tokyo. You focused your gaze on the entrance of the park, hoping to see proof of your assumption. The humming sound stopped, replaced by the sounds of several car doors closing. It turned out that someone had managed to start a car in this place—but who?

A group of men and two women entered the illuminated entrance of the amusement park. Their arrival created a tense atmosphere, pressing down not only mentally but also physically. Yuina, beside you, gasped. The group of people took phones for registration, giving you a clear view of them from behind. On the back of one hooded man was a large, sharp object, resembling a sword or a katana. Another man carried a rifle, holding it as if it were the most valuable thing in his life. Judging by the bulging pockets of the others, they were also well-armed.

You swallowed hard. This group of people was dangerous for you and your survival. You had encountered armed individuals during previous games, and it had ended very badly. It would be ideal if this game were a Clubs suit and these people ended up on your team. The man with a scar over his eye was speaking to his group in a way that prevented other players from overhearing. It became clear that he was their leader.

Your observations were interrupted by a female voice from the phone.

"Registration is closed. Total players: 34. The game begins. Difficulty: 6 of Spades."

Your theory about the suit of this game was confirmed, but it brought no relief. Beside you, Yuina raised an eyebrow, a silent question on her face: "Why does a playing card determine the difficulty?". However, you didn’t answer her, as you were focused on your smartphone.

"The entire amusement park is filled with various animals. The players' task is to kill all the animals within the allotted time. If you fail, you lose. The board displays the number of different animals and the points awarded for killing each one. Time limit: 2 hours. The game begins."

As soon as the game started, the park seemed to awaken from a deep sleep. All the attractions began functioning properly, drawing attention to themselves. Several nearby boards also lit up. Instead of a black screen, an image appeared: a yellow background with four types of animals, their names written in black, along with their respective point values. At the moment, the score was exactly zero. The animals the players would have to fight: tiger, panther, wild boar, eagle.

—We have no weapons, and they expect us to kill animals?

A man shouted in panic at the absurdity of the situation. He was right—against such creatures, strong weapons and skills were needed. And at this moment, the only ones with weapons were that group of people. The tall man who had spoken to Yuina earlier, along with several others, cast envious glances at them. The one with the rifle simply smirked, but his arrogance didn’t last long, as their leader began giving orders.

—Maybe there’s special weaponry somewhere in the park?

A middle-aged woman hesitantly voiced her opinion. One of the young men in her group agreed, so they decided to move deeper into the park to investigate. It turned out that some people had knives with them, meaning they at least had something to defend themselves. Everyone split up as they wished—those who had come with a partner stayed together, those who were alone either grouped up with someone or went off on their own.

Yuina decided to follow you. Surprisingly, she wasn’t panicking. Perhaps her brain still hadn’t fully grasped the severity of the situation. Both of you moved quickly but cautiously. Your attention was drawn to a beautiful carousel with people sitting on it, spinning in circles. At the start of the game, the number of players had been announced, but the group you had seen at the entrance didn’t match that number. Most likely, they had arrived earlier than you and had already explored the arena to study the area.

You took out your phone, which displayed a countdown. Several minutes had passed, yet you hadn’t found any weapons. You also hadn’t encountered a single animal along the way, which was strange. Yuina tapped your shoulder, her index finger pointing at a black panther silently approaching the group of people on the carousel. Since all the attractions were running, it was difficult to catch any sudden movements—something the panther was using to its advantage.

You didn’t have time to warn the people before the panther pounced, sinking its teeth into a man’s leg.

A quiet curse slipped from your lips at the sight. You grabbed Yuina’s hand and quickly ran away from the panther—there was no telling when the beast might decide to make you its next meal. The girl didn’t resist; instead, she squeezed your hand even tighter.

Since the animals had begun attacking, the armed group started taking action. Gunshots echoed in the air, and soon, images of animals with their respective point values began appearing on the board. You stopped briefly to check who had been killed. The wild boar and the eagle were already gone. Then, the screen suddenly displayed the image of a crow with +1 point.

—The crow wasn't on the list of animals.

Yuina addressed you in a trembling voice.

—Maybe that's the challenge. — you replied, your own voice shaking, your heart pounding with fear. — Maybe, besides those four animals, there are others, and they give fewer points. We don't know about them, but we still have to kill them."

Hot tears streamed down the girl's face, but she quickly wiped them away. She began to stutter.

—W-we still have no weapons. We have nothing to defend ourselves with.

—Yuina, listen to me. We can win. There are many armed people here who are handling this well. We can use stones, sticks, or find something else to fight back.

You shook the girl’s shoulders to get her attention. Truthfully, you didn’t fully believe your own words, but panicking wouldn’t help. You had to do something. Thankfully, Yuina started nodding, signaling that she understood. She wiped her eyes again—fear hadn't disappeared from them, but determination had taken its place. That determination spread to you as well.

You looked around and noticed a booth, half-made of wood. You pulled Yuina along with you to the spot. Grabbing one of the wooden planks, you tried to pull it loose. Your fingers turned white from the strain, and your face flushed slightly. Yuina joined in, placing her hands over yours and counting down.

—One, two, three!

You pulled the board at the same time, managing to rip it free. But you didn’t stop there. Rubbing your hands together, you moved on to the next plank. A short, relieved laugh escaped your lips when you held another board in your hands. Yuina reached for it, but you stopped her.

Holding the plank tightly, you noticed two nails in it. Carefully, you started banging them against the ground to remove them. It was difficult—they bent at times—but you managed to pry them out. You placed the two nails into the pocket of your jacket, which was tied around your waist. Then, you did the same with the second plank, but this time, you handed the nails and board to Yuina.

—It's not a gun, but at least we can defend ourselves if needed.

—Should we leave this place?

—Yes. I know it's quiet here, but soon, more animals could come. I'll go first, you follow me.

The girl didn’t argue and simply followed your instructions. You both continued moving through the park. Along the way, a lizard crawled toward you. Out of fear, you and Yuina beat it to death with your makeshift weapons, earning +1 point.

The whole place was in chaos. People hid inside various attractions, trying to avoid encounters with the animals. Many ran, pushing each other in panic. Only the armed group remained calm, focused on victory. They efficiently killed animals, causing the scoreboard to change constantly.

You reached a strange ride where the man with the rifle was shooting at birds. When he took down an eagle, he shouted something loudly. You couldn’t make out the words, but his voice sounded eerily familiar. You wanted to get a better look at him, but the speed of the ride and the distance made it impossible. Your gaze shifted to the booth where people registered for the attraction.

—Yuina, stay here. I'm going to check that booth and try to find a map of the park. That way, we can find a safe place."

—How will a park map help you find a safe place?

—I think each animal has its own environment. The panther was near the carousel, birds fly around tall attractions to make them easier to shoot. If we figure out where the less dangerous animals are—like the lizard we saw—we can go there.

Yuina understood the logic of your words. She had doubts about your plan but did not argue. She gripped the board tighter and nodded in agreement. You ran to the booth, which had a small window just big enough to fit tickets. Through it, workers communicated with customers.

You took a flashlight from your pocket and shone it inside. There were various items, as well as a stack of papers. You put the flashlight away and clenched your fist. After three strikes, the glass couldn’t withstand it and shattered. Carefully, you picked up two shards, each the size of an adult’s palm, and put them in your jacket pocket. Small streams of blood appeared on your hand, which you cautiously wiped on your clothes. You managed to grab the stack of papers, so you sat down by the booth to go through them. Somewhere in the middle, you found a folded park map. You started examining it, but a sudden scream interrupted you.

— Y/N, watch out!

You lifted your head. Just thirty meters away, a tiger was already charging at you. You needed to act fast, but the shock clouded your mind for a few seconds. Seeing this, Yuina suddenly ran toward the beast with a stick, shouting, "Take this!" She struck the tiger on its side, causing it to be thrown to the side. However, that didn’t stop it for long—only for a few seconds.

It decided not to attack Yuina, who had hit it, but rather you, as you were at its eye level and appeared weaker than the other girl. Shocked, you watched the scene, unable to believe it was real. Your hand reached into your pocket for the glass shard. You hissed in pain as the shard cut into your fingers when you gripped it. The tiger was rushing toward you, now just a few centimeters away, its massive jaws opening wide. You swung your arm with all your might, driving the large glass shard into the beast’s eye. Feeling the searing pain, instead of biting you, it let out a terrifying roar. Your body was moving faster than your mind. Instincts took over. With your legs, you kicked it away from you. The tiger was too disoriented to notice the approach of a tattooed man wielding a katana.

For the tiger, this man became both a savior and an executioner, relieving it from unbearable pain. The scoreboard attached to the attraction displayed an image of the tiger, followed by "+100 points."

Your breathing was erratic, and your eyes reflected only primal fear. So the tiger was the strongest animal in this amusement park. The fact that you survived was thanks to Yuina, the shard of glass, and the man with the katana.

Yuina had already recovered from the situation and was running toward you.

— Y/N! Y/N! Y/N! Are you okay?! Is everything all right?!

The girl knelt beside you, staring at the blood dripping from your palm. Overwhelmed with emotions, she spoke loudly, which caught the attention of the man who had been on the attraction all this time. That man was none other than Niragi Suguru. In a whisper, he said your name. He lowered his rifle to chest level. Niragi looked down in surprise, trying to confirm what he had just heard. The attraction was still moving at the same speed, making it difficult to focus. The light from the scoreboard and the ride was partially shining in your direction, making it inconvenient to see.

Still, he managed to make out the faint image of a young girl kneeling in front of another. Over the years, your physique had changed, but there was still something familiar about you. His eyes narrowed in doubt. The last time he had seen you was in his second year of high school, and after that, he had never been able to contact you again. Suguru’s heart skipped a beat, and a strong urge rose inside him—to come down immediately and confirm if it was really you.

What was stopping him?

The fact that the game was still not over. If they didn’t win, they would die. And that meant he wouldn’t get the chance to find out if it was truly you. So, he raised his rifle again and continued hunting the birds.

Meanwhile, the tattooed man left, searching for more animals. Yuina pulled the ribbon from her hair, causing her bun to unravel into a high ponytail. Her hands trembled, but she still tried to bandage your wounded hand. You looked at the makeshift bandage. Though you didn’t say it out loud, you were deeply grateful to her for this.

Afterward, you and the girl discussed the park map. You decided to go to the large fountain, assuming there might be fish there. As you walked toward the water, you accidentally tripped, your nose colliding with the park’s asphalt road. Fortunately, it wasn’t broken, but blood started dripping from it. When you reached the fountain, just as expected, different kinds of fish were swimming in it. The fastest way to kill them was to remove them from the water. Luck was on your side—a man helped you find a way to drain the fountain. Theoretically, the fish should have suffocated, but they kept moving for a few minutes, so you handed the man the glass shard and took the nails yourself. You finished them off, and the scoreboard nearby awarded one point per fish.

Over the next hour, the armed men killed all the remaining animals in the park. Then, your phone vibrated loudly—"You won". You closed your eyes in relief. It was finally over. Yuina, standing beside you, felt the same.

Since the game was finished, there was no reason to stay here anymore. As a sign of gratitude for saving you, you decided to take Yuina with you—to explain everything about this world and offer her a place to stay and some food. Together, you walked toward the park’s exit.

A group of people who had arrived by car was already waiting there. There were fewer of them this time, most likely because some had been killed by the animals. However, you didn’t care about that. You just hoped that after hunting animals, they wouldn’t decide to hunt you next. You and Yuina stuck close together, walking as far away from the group as possible. This allowed you to leave the amusement park unnoticed. You took out your flashlight and illuminated the road to avoid getting lost.

You were too focused to hear the footsteps behind you.

— Y/N?!

A familiar voice called your name. Your eyes widened at this unexpected turn of events. You turned in the direction of the voice. There stood a man holding a rifle. Yuina squeezed your hand in fear. Your first instinct was to run. But curiosity got the better of you. How did this man know you?

— Do we know each other?

You tried to speak calmly, but the trembling in your voice betrayed your fear.

The man with the rifle raised his hands, showing he had no intention of killing you. Then, he took a few steps closer until he was within arm’s reach. The tension in both your and Yuina’s bodies didn’t disappear, but you did nothing, waiting for his next move.

Under the lantern’s light, Niragi was finally able to take a good look at your face. Over the years, you had only grown more beautiful. But there was one thing that had never changed—your eyes. And through them, he finally recognized his old friend.

It felt as if time had stopped while he looked at you. The corner of his lips curled upward.

—Y/N, it's me. Niragi.

A nervous chuckle escaped your lips, and your eyes widened like ripe cherries. Your gaze darted across the man's face, struggling to recognize your old friend. He had changed so much over the years. His hair was tied high into a ponytail—something he had never done before. A silver piercing adorned his face, and his once youthful features had sharpened into those of a man.

Finally, your expression shifted from pure shock to recognition, and Niragi noticed it.

—Yuina, can you step away for a moment? I need to talk to him alone.

You barely held back the tears welling up in your eyes, making your voice tremble. The girl hesitated at first, scared to be left alone in this place. But seeing how much this meant to you, she reluctantly stepped back, keeping just enough distance to give you privacy while still staying close.

—Suguru... is it really you?

—Yes, Y/N. It's really me.

You still couldn't believe this was happening. But Niragi stood before you, nodding firmly. His hands gripped your shoulders, pulling you closer.

Tears finally spilled from your eyes as your free hand reached up to touch his cheek. This was real.

Back in the old Tokyo, you had never managed to see him again or get in touch. And yet, in this new Tokyo, after countless deadly games, you had found him.

—Why didn’t you ever write to me? Why did you disappear so suddenly? Why did you forget about me?

Although his voice was calm, you could hear the resentment and anger bubbling to the surface.

You had been his only friend, his pillar of support—the only thing that made life bearable after the relentless torment from school bullies. You were the light that had vanished when you left for school.

After you left, Niragi had checked his mailbox every day, waiting for just one letter from you. He had spent hours staring at the empty slot, hoping something new would appear. His heart had held onto the hope that you would reach out soon, but as the days passed, that hope had begun to wither.

And then the new school year had begun. The bullies had learned about your departure. None of the teachers cared to intervene, and with you gone, the torment only worsened.

During those days, Niragi often thought back to the times he spent in your room—the warmth of your hands as you comforted him, the soothing words you whispered. But now, all of it was gone. With your departure, his only solace had been ripped away.

Now, his grip on your shoulders tightened. He was finally going to get the answer that had haunted him for years.

Through your tears, you began to speak.

—I wrote to you. I really did. I... I don’t know why you never received any of my letters. I’m so sorry. I thought about you so many times. I even came back once after school... but you were already gone. Please believe me.

The tears streaming down your face were genuine. You weren’t lying. Over the years, you had thought about your clever friend with a bittersweet nostalgia. It hurt that you had lost contact. There were moments when you worried that the bullies had beaten him to death, but no one seemed to know anything about it. Even when you had asked Niragi’s neighbors for any bit of information about him, they had known nothing. It was painful to realize that your friendship had been lost, and that there had been nothing you could do to restore it.

Niragi studied your face carefully, searching for any hint of deception. But he found none. He looked at your tear-streaked face, smeared with blood from your broken nose. His lips pressed into a thin line. The anger in his eyes began to fade, replaced by something else—pain.

He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly in a bear-like embrace. His hand moved up and down your back, a silent attempt to soothe you. You pulled your hand away from his face and instead wrapped one arm around his back, while the other reached up to gently touch the nape of his neck. Your fingers began tracing soft patterns, just as you used to when comforting the beaten schoolboy he had once been.

Niragi’s eyes widened slightly at the familiar sensation, but he soon closed them. He rested his chin against the top of your head, and a single tear slid down his cheek. As he listened to you whisper about how much you had missed him, he softly admitted that he had missed you too. And that he was glad to see you again.

His hand never stopped running over your back, but in his mind, he had already made a decision. He was going to take you with him—to the Beach. He didn’t know where you had been sleeping all this time, but he was certain the Beach was a better place for you. A place with food, warmth, and safety. A place where people feared him. A place where he could protect you. Neither of you wanted to let go.

After all these years, two old friends had finally found each other again.

[the-californicationist]

The Advent Calendar

Ghoap TW: anal sex --- MDNI/18+ NO EXCEPTIONS AO3 Link I don't write Ghoap, but this was a request from a friend, so please don't be mean to me.

Summary:

Soap gave Ghost an advent calendar this year. Every day was a new surprise - socks, hard cheese, the usual. Everything was normal until Christmas Eve rolled around and Ghost opened the last box to find it empty. He calls up the muppet to chastise him for his mistake, only to hear the phone ringing outside of his door. 

Day one had been a sensible pair of socks, day two was a simple pocket knife, and day three had been a flint striker �� all very practical and well-intentioned. Ghost had been chuffed to even receive such a gift from Soap, and every day he pulled another token from his advent calendar, he felt a little closer to his favorite sergeant. But, there was a small, minor, not-worth-mentioning dilemma: Ghost was falling in love with him. 

Johnny’s flirtations had started off so unassuming, so bland, even, that it had been relatively easy for the Lieutenant to maintain a low profile with his crush. When he first met the sergeant, he’d been more annoyed than anything, thinking he would have to train the loud-mouthed Scot in the field. But, Johnny had proven himself ten-fold. His demolition expertise was top-notch, and he was as brave as a soldier could be.

Then, they had been trapped together in a Russian bunker for a night, and Ghost had seen… all of him. He was beautiful. His wide chest, the broad expanse of his strong back, those thick thighs leading up to his ass. Fuck, it was all so delicious. Ghost wanted to bury his face between those legs for days and days and days. But, he was the man’s superior officer, so he tried to restrain himself. 

However, Johnny was dangerously flirty. He’d started to tease Ghost about his mask, sneaking a thick finger under the edge of the fabric, touching his cheek through the cloth. Johnny would even start undressing in front of him now, claiming that he’d seen it all already, and there was no harm done. He would bend over just enough for Ghost to see the flushed outline of his hole. The lieutenant had even caught Johnny staring at his cock in the showers, looking like he was starving for it. 

Johnny’s advent calendar had started the same way… misleadingly safe until it wasn’t. A knife is nice, but it was no rose bouquet, so it was easy for Ghost to shrug it off. However, day thirteen had been… naughty. 

“What the fuck is this, Sergeant?” Ghost asked. 

He’d brought the gift into the locker room on base and held the thick, silicone ring between his fingers, peering one masked eye through the hole. 

Johnny had turned beet red, glancing over his shoulder,

“Christ, mate! It’s a wee cockring. Dinnae go flashin’ tha’ around.”

After that, Ghost had been a little more careful opening the gifts. However, he’d been using the cockring regularly, and now he craved it; jacking off without it seemed… bland somehow. It was a great gift for him, and one he never would have tried on his own. 

Day fourteen had helped provide some inspiration, though, as it was a very artistic nude Polaroid of Soap in nothing but a pair of reindeer antlers. 

Day seventeen was the last, and largest, of three anal plugs. Day twenty was a tingling bottle of lube, and day twenty-three was a smartphone-controlled dildo. 

Now, on the last day, when Ghost opened his twenty-fourth gift, he was shaking a bit. Johnny’s advent calendar had worked him up to a froth, and it was clear that Johnny was making sure Ghost knew how he felt about him. The prospect of being with Soap in any real sense was pushing Ghost beyond the pale.

There was a sudden and deadly disappointment, however, when twenty-four turned up… empty. 

Ghost dug through the other boxes, making sure he didn’t miss it in the pile. He checked the truck, and he even went out to the mailbox. He couldn’t understand why there would be a 24th box with nothing inside of it. He flipped through his contacts until he landed on Soap’s name.

The phone rang, and Simon thought he could hear it out in the hall of his apartment.

It rang again, and sure enough, it was ringing just outside of his door. 

“What the fuck?” Simon grumbled, yanking open the door. 

Johnny was standing there in a slutty Santa costume, complete with hat and suspenders. He had his phone in his hand, looking like he was ready to pick it up until Simon surprised him. 

“Hey, LT. Lookin’ for number twenty-four?”

Johnny turned to the side so Simon could see the glittery gold number 24 painted on the ass of his tiny Santa shorts.

“Thought you didn’t know how to count,” Simon quipped. 

Johnny rolled his eyes and pushed his way into the apartment, shutting the door behind him.

“It’s me. I’m twenty-four.”

Ghost’s heart skipped a beat. The look on Johnny’s face was deadly earnest, and he could tell that his pupils were blown wide with desire. Simon stepped closer to him, running a long finger under his fabric suspenders, the only thing holding the shorts on his body. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and so every time Ghost rubbed the strap, the backs of his knuckles would graze across Soap’s soft nipple, making it peak for him. 

Johnny swallowed hard, staring up at his lieutenant,

“Aren’t you gonna unwrap your present, sir?”

Simon pulled down the suspender straps, and that was all it took. Soap was fully nude in his foyer except for a bright red Santa hat, smiling up at him. All the air had rushed out of the room, and all that was left was Johnny. Ghost put his hand back at Johnny’s nipple, teasing him gently, stepping forward into his space. 

Johnny blushed a beautiful shade of pink and closed his eyes to heighten the feeling, 

“Fuck, LT. Been wantin’ you for so fuckin’ long.”

“Been wanting you, too, Sergeant. Had me worked up to a bloody fuckin’ fever with these gifts of yours. Tryin’ to kill me?”

“Didnae expect you to hold back for so long, Si. Thought we’d get to the middle somewhere before you jumped me,” Johnny smirked, knowing he had gotten under his lieutenant’s skin. 

“Shouldn’t be doin’ this. I’m your lieutenant. It’s not right,” Ghost’s tone was serious and a little sad, but he rubbed his warm palms across Johnny’s chest as adoringly as a lover would, so Soap knew he was still on board. 

“Dinnae care, sir. I want you, and I’ll do anythin’ to get you.”

Ghost pressed his face into Soap’s pouty lips, kissing him deeply, forcing his tongue into his mouth. His jaw worked on him hungrily, and every kiss brought with it a tingling sensation, warm and bright, that filled Simon’s body with excitement. He felt his blood rush to be put to use, filling his cock and making him hard. 

Before Simon even knew what he was doing, Soap’s cock was in his hands, being rubbed and massaged to full length, swollen and ready for work. Then, tired of waiting, he bent to lift Johnny under his luscious thighs, and carried him to the bedroom, kicking in the door with a loud bang. 

“Christ, Johnny. Don’t you know what you’ve been doing to me?”

“I can feel what I’m doin’ to you, LT,” Johnny was kissing his neck and grinding his hips against Simon’s hard length. It was fighting to get through his gray sweatpants, his cockhead threatening to pop over the waistband. On every thrust up and down, Ghost felt the warmth of Johnny’s fat dick as it rolled over his belly, drooling wet on his skin. 

“Johnny…” Simon pleaded, laying his sergeant down on the bed while he stood at the edge of the mattress, thrusting above him, palming himself through the fabric to relieve some of his tension. Johnny looked well-fucked already, and Ghost was just getting started. He was rubbing his hands all over his own body in the bed, like a cat preening himself, dragging his fingers through the fur on his chest and abdomen, curling them around the thick hair at the base of his cock. 

“Give it to me, Si. Don’t make me wait.”

Simon obeyed. He found the cockring and the lube in his nightstand and looped it over Johnny’s cock and balls, listening to him moan as he felt the pressure. Then, he dropped to his knees, eager to taste his lover’s pretty hole. 

As Ghost’s tongue found his core, Johnny grunted with hot pleasure,

“Fuck, don’t.. sir, please…”

Ghost stopped, looking up at him while he played with the sergeant’s throbbing head, 

“You want me to stop, Johnny?”

Soap chuckled softly, 

“Just dinnae wanna come too soon, sir.”

“So, come. I’m not stopping at one, Johnny. You’re going to count them for me, all fuckin’ night. There’s a long time until I’m finished with you, mate.”

“Oh, fuck!” Johnny ran his hand down his face in anxious joy, fretting over his roiling pleasure. 

Ghost returned to his task, fucking Johnny with his long, wriggling tongue, trying to fit it deeper and deeper into his hole, feeling his muscles shake and tremble from the anticipation. Then, when he was satisfied with the delightful keening noises coming from the Scot, he added a finger to his efforts, listening as Soap’s moaning changed pitch. 

“You like that, Johnny?”

“Yeah, Si. I do… holy fuck.”

“Gonna let me taste your come, hm, pretty boy?”

“Yessss…” Soap’s face was wrenched shut, his eyes and mouth locked in a frozen state of wonderful agony, like a band ready to snap. 

Ghost added another finger and began to pound his hand against Johnny’s body, forcing him to feel the stretch and the intruding pressure on his prostate gland, reaching high to find it. He curled his finger, making Johnny cry out, With his free hand, Ghost began to jack him off, focusing on his rosy head, turning his wrist in teasing circles to draw out his pleasure. 

“Fuck! I’m – oh, fuck.”

“That’s it, Johnny. Come for me. C’mon, love.”

“I’m –” Johnny stared up at Simon, his blue eyes wide in disbelief, and his come painted his belly with a beautiful splatter, shooting out of Simon’s hand and soaking his skin. 

When he was finished, Ghost began to lick his come off of his hand, and then he turned his attention to Johnny. He sucked it off of his cock, cleaning him from his recent elation. But, as he moved to lick it from his abdomen, Soap stopped him,

“Sir, you dinnae need to…”

Ghost grabbed Johnny’s hips with a renewed fury, and he glared at him as he replied,

“You can’t stop me, Sergeant. Now, be a good boy and give me another.”

Simon pulled his dick out of his sweatpants and rubbed it down with the lube, using some on Soap’s hole as well, and fed himself inside. His crown popped into Johnny’s flushed body, and the man made a whole new symphony of sounds for Ghost to enjoy. 

Ghost finished licking him clean while he thrust into him, feeding some to Johnny on his hand as well, kissing him through it, tasting him inside of himself. 

Each thrust was like a dream. It was as if Johnny's warm, pulsing asshole was made for his cock, and Simon felt like he was on the edge of coming himself. While he was fucking his aching cock into Soap, Ghost returned to jacking him off, giving him the best of both worlds, and edging him within an inch of his life. 

“You enjoying your gift, sir?” Johnny smirked up at Simon as he asked the question, cock-drunk and overwhelmed by the pleasure.

Simon smiled back, kissing him softly as he slammed himself deep into his tight little present, 

“Aye. But, I'm puttin' you on the naughty list this year.”

[ladymunson]

The Boardroom 18+

Fic Summary: After your encounter with Bucky in his house you’re surprised to find out he’s your new boss. His assistant Mary is about to retire and he’s looking for a someone new to take the position. Another co-worker has her sights on the job but Bucky only has eyes for you, much to her chagrin.

A/N: Thank you for the support for part one and sorry it’s taken so long to post part two. I really wanted to get this right.

Warnings: SMUT 18+, oral sex (m & f receiving), unprotected sex, sex in the workplace, unequal power dynamic, drama.

Word count: 2803

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“Y/N wait!” Bucky calls out as you leave the meeting room. You stop and turn around as everyone else files out. Angela gives you the evil eye as she walks past.

“Yes sir?” You say, not making eye contact.

“Please don’t do that. I’m so sorry, I had no idea you worked here.” He says.

“What happened between us will not happen again.” You say in a hushed voice. “I don’t want anyone to think I’m getting special treatment. I’m also going to invest in some blinds, it’s not appropriate for that to continue.”

Six weeks later

“Hey there y/n” your college Mary, Bucky’s personal assistant says as you’re pouring your morning coffee. “Do you have a minute to talk in my office?”

“Of course!” You say as you follow her. Her office is decorated in florals and pastels, very feminine but homely.

“Please shut the door hon.” Mary says, your stomach drops. Are you in trouble? You shut the door and proceed to her desk. “Take a seat.” You oblige and sit down, your heart pumping wildly and your palms beginning to sweat.

“Is everything okay?” You ask.

“Everything is wonderful actually, no one knows this yet but I’m retiring at the end of the month.” Mary says with a smile.

“What?!” You say open mouthed. “Why? And why are you telling me before anyone else?”

“Well… someone needs to replace me as Mr Barnes assistant and I wanted to offer the position to you before I announce.”

“Me?!” You ask, shocked.

“I’ve seen how much of a hard worker you are, even though you’ve not been here long. I see you take great care and pride in everything you do and that’s exactly what this job needs.”

“Doesn’t this need to go through HR first?”

Mary sighs. “I’d rather not, I already know that everyone who applies will get turned down.” You raise your eyebrow in question. “Angela set her sights on James the moment she found out he was taking over from his father. She would instantly put herself in the position, and attempt to put herself in his bed. He’s like my nephew and I just couldn’t let that harpy get to him.”

“If he wanted to bed her, then that‘s his decision.” You reply.

“He doesn’t want to y/n but she won’t take no for an answer, she’s tried to get her claws into him for the past three years when he’s attended company functions with his father. I really want you to take this job, not just because you’re a great worker but you’re also professional.”

“Can I think about it?”

Five days later

“Why did you pick her for the job? What has she got that I don’t?!” Angela pouts as she confronts Mary in her office after the announcement of her retirement.

“I would say it’s nothing personal Angela but that would be a lie. I made my decision, you need to respect it.” Mary replies as she folds her arms across her chest.

Angela scoffs, “We’ll see how long she lasts, Bucky can be SO demanding.” She smirks before exiting Mary’s office.

Mary let’s out a sigh before picking up the phone and dialling Bucky’s number.

“Barnes.” He answers.

“James we have a problem.”

“Let me guess, Angela?” He responds.

“She’s gonna make y/n’s life miserable…”

“Don’t worry, I have a plan.”

The next morning

“What’s this?” You ask as Bucky hands you a brand new smartphone.

“I’ll need to be able to get ahold of you at all times and all instructions and duties will come from this new number. If anyone tells you I’ve asked you to do something, you can ask me on this number. And don’t tell anyone about it, except Mary.”

“Why would…? Ah. Angela?” You ask. Bucky nods and leaves your office.

One week later

Bucky- I’m gonna need you to stay late tonight, we have a meeting.

You- How late?

Bucky- Meeting is at 8pm.

You’re thirty minutes early for the meeting, training as Bucky’s assistant has been gruelling but tonight, you have to set up the conference room. Having this meeting at 8pm means you skipped dinner to be here, it’s that important. If you can land this contract it will be a huge thing for the company, there may even be a pay rise in it for some of us.

You place your bag on a chair and get to work. You use the key to open the supply cupboard and take out a brand new pack of note pads and a new box of pens. You open the note pads and place one on the table in front of every chair and a pen on top of each pad. Next are the water glasses which you place around the table, the refrigerator in the corner of the room is stocked with bottles of water which will be distributed when the meeting begins.

You hear Bucky come into the office, so you quickly grab your bag and run into the ladies room. In the bathroom you change from flats into heels and check your hair. The elegant chignon from this morning has lost its setting so you decide to remove the clips, letting it loose and cascading around your shoulders. You grab my brush out of your bag and run it through your hair, the chignon has left your hair with a bouncy curl which looks really cute. You check your dress, making sure there are no stains on the white of the fabric. Once satisfied you grab a lipstick out of your bag and apply the dusky rose colour to your lips. You usually wear nude lipstick to the office but changed your bag this morning, leaving this colour as your only choice. The colour isn’t very bold which is great so it will do.

You exit the bathroom and head back to the conference room, passing by his office quickly. “Y/N?” You hear him call.

“Yes Mr Barnes” you reply from the conference room doorway.

“Can you please make sure there are note pads and pens around the table? And make sure you set out a place for yourself, I need you to stay and take notes for me.” He calls from his office.

“Pads and pens already set out sir and I’ll add a place for me.”

“Thank you!”

You head to your office and grab your iPad, taking notes on that will be much easier. Then you head back to the conference room and place it at the end of the table, opposite his place. You also get yourself a glass.

He walks into the room, looking at his phone “Y/N they’re arriving now, is everything...?” He trails off as he looks up at you, his mouth slightly gaped. “I’ve never seen you with your hair down at the office... pretty” That last word sounded like it should’ve been a personal thought but you don’t draw attention to it.

“Thank you sir. Is there anything else you need before the elevator arrives?” You ask. He shakes his head as you hear the ding and the doors open.

“James...” the first man exiting the elevator says, extending his hand to him.

He shakes his hand. “How are you Bob?” Several other people get out of the elevator behind Mr Kellerman, he always travels with an entourage.

“Can’t complain. Let’s get this show on the road shall we?” Mr Kellerman walks into the conference room and takes a seat in the middle of the table with his back to the window. His assistant Ms Deacon sits to his right and the other members of the party take seats around the table. You get up from your place at the table and get the bottles of water out of the refrigerator, handing them out.

You can feel someone looking at you, like their eyes are boring through you. You ignore it before taking a seat and opening the notes app on your iPad.

The meeting gets underway, you follow everything that’s being said, writing in code so you can interpret them later.

As you listen to Bucky speak, you realise how incredibly sexy his voice is, shifting slightly in your seat and noticing the dampness in your panties. You close your eyes and take a deep breath as you try to erase the thoughts of him slamming you up against the wall and taking you hard and fast out of your mind. You open your eyes and look up straight into his baby blues, you feel the dampness grow as your eyes lock, the small moan he lets out causing you to soak your panties.

You stand, embarrassed. “I’m sorry, may I be excused?” You ask.

He licks his lips and nods his head. You head to the bathroom, stepping into the stall and locking the door behind you. You lean against it, “fuck!” You whisper as you shimmy out of your underwear. You have no spares in your bag so you’re gonna have to go without underwear.

You throw the panties on the floor behind the toilet to collect later and flush, stepping out of the cubicle and washing your hands.

When you get back in the conference room, they all have beaming smiles. “What did I miss?”

He smiles at you. “We reached an agreement to combine our companies!” You smile and clap.

“That’s fantastic! I’m looking forward to working with you Mr Kellerman.” You respond as you shake his hand.

“I might have to steal your new assistant away from you James, she’s marvellous. And may I say very easy on the eye!”

“Y/N will be staying here Bob” he chuckles and waves goodbye, his fans following suit. The elevator doors close and Bucky lets out a huge sigh.

You’re already clearing up the table when he comes back in. Gasping at the sight of you bending over it. You hear footsteps behind you but you don’t turn, thinking he is going to help clean up.

He stands behind you, eyeing up your ass bent over the table. You move slightly on your feet and he moans. Thoughts race through your mind, should I? You take a deep breath and move back ever so slightly until your ass grazes him, you feel his erection straining through his pants. He groans and reaches out, grabbing your hips and pulling you to him. You gasp.

“Mr Barnes!” He thrusts his hips forward, jerking you upright. He spins you around and grabs the back of your head, possessing your mouth with his.

Your arms wrap around his neck as he kisses you, his tongue invading your mouth. You return his kiss as he grabs your ass, lifting you onto the table, opening your legs and moving between them. He shrugs out of his suit jacket and continues the kiss, loosening his tie before removing it. Your fingers fumble with his shirt buttons, undoing them quickly, eager to get him shirtless. You pull his shirt off of his shoulders and throw it across the room. Then unbutton his pants, pushing them down, freeing his raging hard on. He steps out of them and moves them out of the way.

Bucky’s hand slips up your dress, he moans as he finds you bare pussy, wet and ready. He pulls you to your feet and reaches around to the back of your dress to undo the zipper, slipping it down your arms and watching it fall to the floor below you. He lifts you back onto the table and kicks the dress away, his hands caressing your breasts as he kisses you again.

He pushes you onto your back and kneels, coming face to face with your dripping cunt. He blows gently, making you sigh in pleasure, then kisses your inner thighs. Before placing his entire mouth over your mound, sucking hard. You moan and groan, your head rolling side to side as you play with your breasts.

Bucky releases your pussy from his mouth and licks his lips. He opens you up with his fingers and flicks his tongue over your hard bud. “Ohhhhh... fuck!” You moan out, as his tongue continues it’s relentless flicking over your clit. You can feel an orgasm building deep inside you, your pussy creaming at the thought of an orgasm. He takes your clit between his lips and sucks, gently flicking his tongue over your bean. Your hand reaches down and grabs the back of Bucky’s head, grinding your pussy on his face, chasing your orgasm. It hits hard, making your hips jerk involuntarily and your toes curl. You ride the waves of pleasure, body convulsing in climax, his tongue still licking as the spasms subside.

Bucky stands, evidence of your orgasm running down his chin. You sit up and pull him to you, kissing him passionately, tasting yourself on his kiss.

You jump down off the table, your juices running down your legs as you kneel in front of him. Licking the precum off of his cock, then lifting his cock up to lick from his balls up the underside of his cock to the tip and back down again. You repeat that three times before taking his cock in your mouth, taking it to the back of your throat. His hand grips the back of your head and holds you in place as he shoves his cock in and out of your mouth. He groans as you suck his cock, he grabs ahold of your hair and pulls you to your feet.

Bucky spins you around, bending you over the table and wets the tip of his cock with your slick before sliding inside you. He grabs your hips and begins moving in and out. Your breasts are pressed against the table, hands splayed out in front of you as his hips thrust hard, he grunts as you use your inner muscles to squeeze around his cock.

That releases Bucky’s inner beast and he reaches out with his left hand to grab your hair, pulling you back into him hard. His right hand spanking your ass, leaving red hand prints as his relentless fucking almost splits you in two. You moan again and again as he pounds you, he reaches around to grab you throat making you cum hard around his cock. He chokes you as his fucking becomes primal, you can tell he’s seconds away from coming.

“Fuck me Sir!” You shout, he growls as his orgasm hits and he shoots his load into you, before it drips out and onto the conference room floor.

He turns your head to kiss you, breathing hard. “Well... that was unexpected”

You giggle. “Yes it was Sir” He spins you around and pulls you close, wrapping his arms around your back. Compared to how he just fucked you, this was intimate, sweet.

“I’d like to do that again if you’re interested.” He says as he places a kiss on your forehead.

“Now?” You ask.

“No not right now, but again. And again.” He says as he bends to pick up his pants and your dress. He throws your dress onto the table next to you.

“We really shouldn’t!” You reply, “Even if I really want to.” He smiles and get begins to get dressed. You sit on the table and watch him before starting to get dressed yourself.

“I’ve changed my mind...” Bucky says. You sigh, disappointed. “Yes now” You look confused. “I’m going to fuck you again, right now!” He grabs the dress out of your hands and throws it to the end of the table and steps between your legs. He grabs your head and kisses you deeply as he spears your still dripping pussy with his cock.

You let out a moan, he grabs your arms and wraps them around his neck, then your legs around his waist.

“Hold on tight!” He says as he begins thrusting his hips hard, making you bounce off the table. He kisses you passionately as he pounds into you, chasing his orgasm...

TO BE CONTINUED

Tags: @jobean12-blog @eddiesprincess86 @bettyfrommars @pattiemac1 @jadeylovesmarvelxo @existenciosa

[aangarchy]

I really hope you write that atla fanfic that you said you want write but wont. After reading all the bullet points I was like…this is really good thanks for at least sharing it. Love your thoughts and your blog!

Alright, you're tempting me. I'll post an excerpt from a finished chapter below the cut. I don't have an ao3 account (i do have a wattpad but god knows what i'll find there if i reopen the app after centuries of catching dust) so you'll just have to deal with tumblr's layout for it.

Two things:

1. english is not my first language. Please keep that in mind while you read. If some language seems repetitive or too simple, or there's spelling/grammatical errors, it's because of that.

2. I will reiterate that i started writing this story at age 14-15. The original file is from 2014, on my USB, and i have edited and rewritten parts so many times i've lost count. I'm still rereading and editing stuff once in a while. This is purely for my own personal pleasure and will probably never be published bc in my own opinion i'm just not meant to be a writer. I'm not asking for criticism or tips.

To add some context to this sample: the story basically hinges on the legend of Korra taking place in a time equivalent to the 1920's. In my story Korra dies aged 106, meaning Shen is born in the year equivalent to our late 2000's, making him a teenager in the late 2010's early 2020's. There's internet, smartphones, social media, tv etc. This part of the chapter takes place after the Earthking invited every 16yr old earthbender for a test, looking for the Avatar.

Thank you for reading and enjoy!

The town hall seems eerily quiet when we arrive. The only indication there is something going on, is the two royal guards standing by the massive entrance. I recognize their uniforms from back when I lived in Ba sing se. They'd only really show up in the middle or the upper ring, since that's usually where the Earthking likes to spend his time. It's extremely rare for an Earthking to set foot in the lower ring, let alone outside of Ba sing se, I'm quite certain it hasn't actually happened in my lifetime. Until now.

I walk up to the door and one of the guards holds out his hand to stop me.

"Invitation?" He asks in a deep grumbling voice.

I search my jacket for the folded piece of paper that contains my invite. After I awkwardly fumble it out of my pocket I hold it out to show the guard. He nods, his green tassels on his uniform hat bobbing along with him. The guard on the left nods as well, opening the massive decorated wooden door to allow me entry. I move to step inside.

"Invitation?" The guard bellows behind me.

I turn around to see Yahno holding up his hands defensively. "Hey man, I'm just here for moral support."

I can practically feel the guard raise an eyebrow. "No entry without invitation." His lack of words really makes him sound like a caveman.

"Alright, alright." Yahno backs away, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his gray parka. "I'll be outside okay?" He says to me, and I manage to nod before the guard all but smacks the door shut in my face.

When I turn around, I'm met with the remnants of what once must have been a beautiful hallway. The carpet spanning the length of the hallway used to be a rich emerald green with what looks like delicate floral patterns, but it has been dulled by over a hundred and fifty years of people trampling over it. The one on the stairs is a bit less faded, indicating the upper floors don't get used nearly as much as the first floor. Pillars made of rich brown marble face each other, but the cracks are incredibly obvious, especially the places where someone tried to fix them with grout that doesn't match the color of the pillar. Tapestries decorate the walls. I get a bit closer to inspect what they're supposed to represent, but it's barely distinguishable due to the amount of dust, and how much the sun has bleached the fabric. I can just make out a figure in the middle, a small child wearing yellow robes and an arrow on his head. An airnomad, probably.

I silently trudge op the stairs. I could still run. I could just jump out the back window. They wouldn't notice one candidate not showing up right?

Though it would arguably look suspicious if one candidate goes missing and the Avatar happens to still not be found.

I skip the second floor and head straight to the third. This floor compared to the first floor is almost empty. The sills of the wooden doors are cracked, the paint chipped in several places. There's a faded rectangular mark on the wall where a painting used to be. I walk all the way to the end, where a chair is placed outside of the door marked number 6. Inhaling deeply through my nose and exhaling through my mouth, I take a seat in the chair. My hand reaches for my neck, the annoying tingle I've felt there since my family vacation to Republic City returning in full force. I've since identified this feeling as a spiritual thing. It happened the first time when I laid eyes on the spirit portal in Republic City, and it happened again on the last summer solstice.

Korra, for all moments to finally reach out to me this is not the one. I say in my head.

A year and a half. That's how long I've known I'm the Avatar. And I still haven't made contact with any of my previous lives. Thanks to Yahno, ever the Avatar nerd, I now know Korra is supposed to reach out before I can talk to any of the others. Knowing what I know about Korra, she was never really all that connected to her spiritual side, despite being the Avatar that reopened the spirit portals, fought the Harmonic Convergence, and created an entirely new spirit portal in the middle of a city. Hopefully when she does show herself at one point or another, she'll actually be able to help me master the Avatar State. If not... I don't really want to think about what might happen if not.

A creaking sound from the door opening next to me startles me from my train of thought. Song, one of my classmates, specifically the girl who lent me her pencil on my first day, exits the room.

"Oh, hi Shen." She smiles brightly.

"Hey, how'd it go?" I ask, despite knowing the answer.

She leans closer to me, doe eyes looking straight into mine. "It's not me. Not that I'm shocked."

I manage to feign ignorance and nod solemnly at her answer. "It probably won't be me either."

She giggles. "Right? Wouldn't that be something."

Ouch.

I lean closer. "So... what is the test?" I whisper.

She shrugs. "He just asked me questions, and as soon as he determined my birthday is too far away from Avatar Korra's death, he let me leave. I was in there for all but five minutes."

I nod. Just like Yahno predicted, he's going to use his truth seeing ability. He thinks the Avatar knows their identity and is hiding. Not that he's wrong. I swallow, trying to get past the ball of nerves sinking in my stomach.

Another set of footsteps approaches in the hall. "What are you doing here?"

My face contorts from annoyance at the familiar voice.

"Doing the Avatar test just like everyone else our age, Uma." Song chippers.

Uma stops in front of me, I jump out of my chair instinctively.

"Well this one can just go home already." She gestures at me and scrunches her nose. "There's no way the kid who's earthbending is worse than my four year old little brother's is the Avatar." She chuckles.

"And there's no way someone with a nasty attitude like yours could be the Avatar either, Uma." I retort.

Her nostrils flare as she takes the insult, but doesn't want to give me the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, she huffs and chooses to lean against the wall, checking her short nails for dirt.

Song gives me a sympathetic look. "I think your earthbending is just fine, Shen. Listen I have to go, good luck in there!" She swings her bag over her shoulder and marches off.

Another royal guard stands in the doorway. "Next." He bellows through the hall.

Uma steps forward. "Officer, I'm pretty sure you won't have to test this one. We could skip him so I can go next and we won't waste our time." She smiles sickly sweet.

The temptation I feel to just firebend her smile off of her face to make her swallow her words is immense, but my fear of being discovered keeps me in check.

"We test every single person that received an invitation. We don't want to miss a single one." The guard responds.

Uma blows her fringe out of her face and returns to her spot to lean against the wall.

I try to ignore the taste of bile in the back of my throat as I walk in, head held high.

The Earthking is sat at an ornate mahogany desk, scribbling something on the papers in front of him. The decorated fire place behind him hasn't been used in decennia, dust having settled on top of the wood rotting inside.

The king looks up from his writing, straight at me. His face looks younger than I imagined, seeming to be about 45 instead of his actual age of 56. The only true signs of aging are the streaks of gray in his brown hair, which is pulled up in a traditional Fire Nation top bun, one of the only tells of the king's mixed origins. I glance at his feet, and like I expected, he isn't wearing shoes. The carpet that should be reaching under his chair has been rolled up under the desk so the bare soles of his feet can be in direct contact with the marble flooring. He smiles sweetly, which makes me even more nervous. It'd be much easier to lie to a man whom I dislike up front, not a sweet middle aged fatherly type. I don't do well with fatherly types.

"Shen Gao right?" He asks, voice smooth like honey.

I shove my daddy issues in a mental box and nod. "That's right your majesty." I bow.

His smile widens. "Please, sir is fine." He gestures at the empty seat in front of him.

My footsteps are amplified by the stone floor as I approach. When I sit, the chair creaks a little.

"Nice to meet you Shen, my name is Seizan."

I nod.

"I know it might be a little intimidating to sit in front of a king. You can just address me as sir, no need for all those pesky formalities." He winks, resulting in an unpleasant shiver going up my spine. "Now, what do you expect to happen today?"

I hesitate. "I expect to be tested on whether or not I might be the Avatar."

He nods. "And what do you think the result might be?"

I swallow. Half-truths. "I don't know." I say. Technically not a lie, since I truly don't know whether or not Yahno's plan will save me today.

The king leans back in his chair. "Alright Shen, I'm just going to ask you a few simple questions. All I need is for you to answer them honestly."

I nod again. As the king takes a different sheet of paper, my eye is drawn by the lone candle standing on a round side table, right next to a guard. As if the guard was stationed there to watch the candle. Why would a simple candle warrant such protection?

"Shen, were you born in the year of the rabbit?"

"Yes." I answer, ripping my gaze from the candle and meeting the king's.

"When is your birthday?"

"December 27th." I answer. My first half-truth. Technically I don't know when my actual date of birth is, but my family celebrates on December 27th every year, that was the day my mother found me, abandoned by the old lantern fountain. It is the date of birth written on my adoption certificate.

The king carefully writes down my answers. "Hm. About twelve weeks after Avatar Korra's death. It would be very late but not impossible." The king muses, his lips pursed under his neatly groomed dark mustache.

I breathe out. Looks like I got away with my first half truth. I try to relax, slowing my breathing and my heartbeat. The king looks at me sideways, giving me a once-over.

"Are you an earthbender?" He asks next, tapping his pen on his chin.

"Yes."

He picks up a clay disk and sets it in front of me. "Just to make sure, can you lift this using your earthbending?"

I nod and stretch out my hand, palm facing up. With a simple upwards flick, the disk steadily floats above the desk. I hold it there for a second and then set it back down.

"Would you say you're a skilled earthbender?" The king asks.

I nearly guffaw loudly at the question. Calling me skilled would be a massive exaggeration.

I shake my head. "No. We only discovered I was an earthbender two years ago. I'm still catching up."

He puts his pen down and leans forward on his arms, seemingly intrigued. "Really? Is there a reason for this late discovery? Normally earthbenders show signs before the age of five."

"I was raised by my mother, who is a nonbender. She didn't know to look for signs."

"And your father?"

"Not present in my life, sir." I was nine when he left. Old enough to know he was also a nonbender, and two nonbenders usually aren't able to produce a bender. But that's not what the king asked.

He carefully takes note of all of my answers. "Rare case, to discover earthbending this late." He checks a pocketwatch. A guard on my left coughs.

"Where were you born?"

"Ba sing se."

The king's eyes widen a bit in surprise. "Oh, pray tell, why haven't I seen you for any of the Avatar tests in my own city?"

"We moved to Swordfish Bay over the summer. These Avatar tests didn't start til late fall." I explain.

The king nods. "Okay, fair." Amber eyes scan the notes, the only other sign of his mixed ethnicity. Everything else about this man, tanned skin and broad features, screams Earthkingdom. But those subtleties are small reminders that he's never fully been Earthkingdom. He's never fully been one of us.

"And the White Lotus didn't pass by to test you when you were little?"

"Back then it was still believed I was a nonbender."

"Right."

An uncomfortable silence stretches as he ponders over my answers.

"Curious case, you. An earthbender that escaped the initial Avatar search because you were believed to be a nonbender. Our method of finding the Avatar would have failed as well, seeing as you probably didn't possess any bending during that time either."

I wipe the clammy palms of my hands on my pants. Calm calm calm. It's only now the king pointed it out that it dawns on me. I haven't ever been tested before. Nobody ever thought to check by our house because no earthbender was recorded there. My sister being a nonbender as well, they never had any reason to pass by. The king has every reason to suspect me now.

He raises a bushy eyebrow. "Have you ever tried bending any other elements?"

Shit.

What do I answer to that? I can't flat out say no, he'll know right away that I'm lying. I try to stabilize my breathing. An idea creeps up in my mind.

"I've tried waterbending." I respond. "It didn't work." Sweat trickles down my spine. It's not a lie. I still haven't been able to bend water.

The king nods, his eyes narrowing slightly. "What about the other elements?"

Double shit.

"I have tried." This isn't a lie.

"What was the result?"

Triple shit.

I lock eyes with the king. I can practically feel my heart beating in my throat. He knows I'm nervous. He can feel it. I can't hide anything at all from him as long as my feet touch the ground. So what if I make sure he can't tell? Slowly and subtly, I lift my feet off of the floor ever so slightly.

"Didn't work." I respond curtly.

The king intertwines his fingers in front of him, resting his elbows on the desk. He stares at me but I don't break eye contact. It is the truth if I will it to be the truth. I beg my body to react as if I'm telling the truth. I know I don't have a tell, at least not visibly. But right now all I can do is hope he doesn't find an invisible tell.

He is the first to break eye contact. I suppress my sigh of relief. I'm not out of the woods yet.

"So, Shen," the king says softly, but I can't unhear the edge his words suddenly seem to have. "You're saying you tried bending elements besides earth and water, and had no results?"

I don't respond.

"You're not a firebender?" He asks again.

I breathe in. "I am not a firebending master, no." This is a half-truth I practiced with Yahno. I am a firebender, but I am not a master. Semantics.

"I'm assuming you're going to say you're not an airbending master either?" He raises one eyebrow, giving me the side eye looking up from his piece of paper.

I don't respond.

His eyes move to the candle sitting on the table with the guard. He nods, and the guard places the candle on the edge of the desk. So it is some kind of special candle? It can't detect Avatars, can it? Would such a thing as an Avatar detecting candle exist?

"Shen, did you know that in the Fire Nation, it is prudent to find out whether or not a newborn is a firebender or not? If they don't find out quickly, one toddler tantrum could set a house ablaze. It's important to detect firebenders fast, but how do you think it's done when the child is too small to execute any bending moves?"

I shake my head. "I have no idea, sir." My eyes flick to the candle. A firebender detecting candle?

The Earthking doesn't look away from the candle. "Well, the parents would usually place the baby by a fire. In ancient times, it would be a ceremonial fire pit. Nowadays, they usually prefer smaller fires like torches," his eyes flick to mine, "or candles."

I swallow.

"You see," he continues, "When a child is a firebender, and a candle is placed next to them, near the face, it'll grow. The flame will become bigger, wider, until it becomes nearly uncontainable where you'd have to snuff it out before it does any damage. That's when you know the child is a firebender. The stronger the flame, the stronger the firebender."

My eyes flare. Candles detect firebenders. The Fire Nation's method for detecting benders, which Yahno had mentioned. It all makes sense now. That's why the candle at our old house in Ba sing se grew that night. The night I held a flame in my hand for the first time. The night I firebent for the first time. The night I discovered I am the Avatar.

The king doesn't notice my reaction, or pretends not to.

"It's not a foolproof method." The king shrugs. "This method is specifically used to detect firebending when the subject doesn't yet know they are a firebender."

I know I am a firebender.

The king takes the candelabrum and slides it in between us. My eyes focus on the flame. The flame grows when the subject is a firebender. Usually firebenders that aren't aware of their abilities, probably because if they knew they could firebend they might cheat to change the results.

Wait.

I am a firebender. I could cheat to change the results. What if I bend the flame in order to keep it small? What if I subdue the flame just enough?

I keep my eyes on the flickering fire. It's about the size of a drop of water. See the height, I tell myself. Memorize it. The way it flickers along the flow of air in this room.

The king lets go of the candle, having set it right in front of me. I stare at the flame and grab hold of it, keeping my hand under the table so no one notices. Subdue. Subdue. Subdue.

The tingle in the back of my neck starts again. Not now. Any time but now.

I can feel the kings eyes locked on me, but I can't afford to look and lose my grip on the candle. I hold my hand to my side in a claw like motion, moving very slowly so the guard by the door doesn't notice. Any time the candle seems to grow, I close the space between my fingers more. I can feel the fire flickering in my hand, the familiar heartbeat and warmth bouncing on my fingertips, even from this distance I'm fully connected to it. Now that's a sign of a promising bender alright.

Sweat forms on my forehead and my upper lip. A minute passes, but it feels like an hour. The king eventually stands and snuffs the candle with the tip of his fingers, and I can finally let go.

"Hm, seems you're not a firebending master, like you said." He says, folding his hands behind his back.

I stare at him for a second, not sure if I heard him correctly.

"That's right." I confirm.

He gestures toward the door. "Well, clearly you're not who I'm looking for, then. You're free to go Shen." He smiles that fatherly smile again.

That's it? I can't believe it. It actually worked?

Hesitantly, I stand up from my chair. "Thank you for your time."

I bow respectfully and turn to leave. I walk towards the door, trying to make sure it doesn't look like I'm scrambling to get out of here. As I get there though, the guard steps in front of me.

My brows furrow. "He said I was free to go." I say.

The guard doesn't move, doesn't do anything. Then I feel it. The hairs on the back of my neck spring up, I can barely make out a fwoom as heat approaches my back. My instincts take over. I turn around and am faced with a massive flame heading straight towards my face. Without even really thinking about it I hold my hands out in front of me. The blast is so strong the impact sends me sliding. My back hits the door knocking the air out of my lungs. When I lower my hands the fire has dissipated, and the guard who shot the fireblast looks at me with wide eyes, like he just saw something unbelievable. I glance back at the king, who is now no longer smiling fatherly, but rather menacingly. The reality of what just happened sinks in.

I just blocked fire by bending it. In front of the king.

Fuck. Me.

The guard quickly regains his composure, and the king claps.

"Excellent!" He exclaims. "After all these years, I didn't think today would be the day."

He steps out from behind his desk and extends his hand towards me. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Avatar Shen."

[ladyvlolypop]

Bucky Barnes Headcanons

these are both dating and overall head canons, if you think the writing is a little out of my usual type it's because I wrote these while

My Masterlist

Bucky Barnes x gn!reader; sfw

Very gentle, his touches are very soft and he tries to avoid being harsh with you, knowing he’s way stronger than you(and because he’s unsure of his metal arm).

When he passes you he gives you subtle touches, his hand on your hip or waist for a brief moment.

He used to smoke when he was a soldier. Heavy smoker and drinker but he never touched a cigarette again after he became the winter soldier, not because he didn’t want to but he just didn’t want to be addicted to anything.

He can definitely speak and understand bits of german and italian because he was stationed in Austria and Italy during the war. He speaks french as well but much better(we love a multilingual king)

He understands russian perfectly but struggles to speak or write/read it. He understands bits of other slavic/balkan languages as well(if you speak russian freshen up his skills a little pls)

He sometimes still stares in awe at modern things, he imagined the world differently in the 30's. Will sometimes tell you how certain spaces changed and how they used to look like back in the day.

He likes to tell you about his childhood, liking to compare how you two grew up

Has lots oft things to catch up to

Has a flip phone w a loud ass ringtone

Jumps a little when hearing his ringtone

He has a smartphone for work but he barely uses it

Loves fantasy shows/movies and reading

LOTR and GOT fan honestly

Likes baking and cooking but he’s not good at it, he’s thankful for microwaveable meals and your cooking

Can’t ride a bike

Can’t drive, learned it just before infinity war happened

He probably let his his metal arm get hot in the sun and cracked an egg on it with sam

It fried

You only call him 'James' if it's serious or if it's to tease him

will use nicknames like "Doll", "Babygirl", "Honey","Darlin'(g)" or "Dear" for you

Uses lotion for his scars

would fold if you did it for him, def will offer to do the same for you(he gives really good messages let him)

Has a routine for his beard when he lets it grow out, likes to keep himself groomed

Same for his hair

Has insane home remedies

Pulls out chernobyl broth when you have a feet ache(boils sprite)(He read about it on facebook)

Doesn’t trust italians

He’s such a dad

Dad jokes all the way

Enjoys shopping for home gadgets

Knows how to haggle and will show his skills when he can

Will often come home with surprise groceries or gifts, things or snacks you like or some other stuff he got on sale

Likes to go to flea markets

Sometimes comes home with large amounts of certain products

Man will come home with 3 boxes of fruit because there was a sale

Love language is definitely gift giving and acts of service

Carries your bags or groceries for you without asking, pretty good at fixing things around the house

He’s good with kids, wants his own but unsure when the right timing for it would be

He sometimes shows them tricks with his metal arm

He’s not much of a talker unless you two are alone

Often rants about work

Good listener though, very attentive listener

He sleeps like a bear, very warm and keeps close to you, his arm cools down at night though and you might wake up with the feeling of cold metal against your belly

He started sleeping better when you were with him, still you will sometimes find him sleeping on the floor in the mornings, old habits die hard.

He’s very stubborn, especially if it's about your safety but he hates arguing with you

He hates the possibility of you getting hurt in any way

You're on his mind all the time

walks around with the thoughts of "would Y/N like that? Should I buy them that?"

first thing he does when coming home after missions is give you a tight hug

if it's really bad all he wants to do is hold you closely and cuddle for hours

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

if you think the writing is a little out of my usual type it's because I wrote these while on a call with my bsf and she was poorly singing lana del ray songs in my ear, some of these hc were even here ideas

[twistedminutia]

A Million and One Minutia: Dinosaurs

The freshmen crew learns about dinosaurs. (Read previous chapters here: Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, and crossposted to AO3 here.)

I never had a study group at school before I came to Twisted Wonderland. No reason for it, really- I didn’t get straight As or anything, but I coasted relatively easily in all my classes. Here, of course, it’s different- A lot of concepts to catch up on means a lot of studying, and it’s not like I have anything better to do, with no smartphone and no money to spare for entertainment. Plus, all the people I know live on campus, instead of in different towns, so getting everyone together is as easy as stepping through a mirror portal.

It’s become something of a routine now- after school every Thursday, we gather in a quiet corner of Ramshackle and buckle down. Initially it was just me, Grim, Ace, and Deuce, but Jack and Epel joined up as part of our little ‘first year gang’ not too long after we met them. Though Epel might be using this as a convenient excuse to duck out on Vil’s lessons, and I can’t tell if Jack actually wants to be here or not. He grouses about not needing a study group, but he never misses one either.

Still, the atmosphere of the group is nice, and we can all help each other out. Somehow, I’ve manage to get consistently among the best grades of the group, along with Jack, which I suppose makes us unofficial leaders. It suits me fine- teaching the others helps reinforce the information for me, and I need all the help I can get to really learn the practical information.

But there are parts of the group that I can’t really participate in at all.

I watch as Epel magics a paper bird through the air, its wings twitching in simulated life. Ace’s paper plane zips and weaves through the air like a stunt pilot, even completing a barrel roll before veering wildly off course and nearly taking out Epel’s bird. “Hey! Watch where you’re flying!”

“I didn’t actually hit you,” Ace protests, trying to get his plane back under control. It zips sideways and comes to a crash landing amid several books. “Aw, man.” He picks it up, tugging at one of its wings. It’s a little crumpled, but not unusable.

Deuce frowns in concentration as he directs his plane, smaller and less flashy than Ace’s, through a series of loops and down into an unsteady landing. “Jack, how are you getting your turns so sharp?”

“You have to manipulate the wings separately- if you try to tilt the whole plane at once, the turn is sloppy.” Jack’s bird is orbiting his head lazily. He mastered the makeshift obstacle course set up over our study table after a few tries. I wonder if being skilled on a broom helps, since Epel picked up the task pretty easily as well.

Grim huffs, trying to lob his folded craft into the air. I’m not sure if it’s supposed to be a plane of a bird- it’s got something resembling wings, at least. Perhaps I should have helped him make it, since the whole lack of opposable thumbs scenario must make it hard to fold, but he would also have probably insisted he could do it on his own. “How come we even have to practice this sort of thing in the first place? Making paper fly around isn’t the sort of thing a great mage does!”

“Vil said it helps develop fine magical control that helps with later spells,” Epel sighs as his bird drifts down in front of him. Grim frowns, but launches his bird/plane into the air with a little too much enthusiasm. It nearly hits the ceiling before taking off like a shot toward the other side of the room.

I watch the group toy around with practical magic. There’s a sort of irritating niggling feeling in my chest, one I don’t quite want to acknowledge. Instead, I continue doodling absently on my notes page.

I get lost enough in the doodles that I lose track of what everyone else is doing- until something warm leans against me and goes “What are those supposed to be?”

I jolt sideways and nearly send Ace sprawling to the ground next to me. My path, however, is blocked by Deuce on my other side and Ace just ends up leaning across us both. “What’s the big idea?” Ace complains as he shoves himself back upright.

“You startled me!” I shove myself up and look back at Deuce. “You okay?”

“Fine,” he says. “Thanks.” Epel is snickering across the table and Jack’s just looking at us like we’re the three biggest idiots in the world.

“I just wanted to see what you were drawing,” Ace complains. “You didn’t have to freak out about it.”

“You leaned all over me,” I protest. Ace rolls his eyes. Jack ignores the exchange and just turns his attention to the notebook in my hands.

“You can draw?” he asks.

“Not really. I can doodle, a bit.” I don’t think I’m being particularly humble here- my sketches are fine, but definitely wonky.

“Could we see?” Deuce asks.

“Sure, but it’s nothing to write home about.” I place the notebook faceup on the table, showing the little sketch I’ve made. It’s supposed to be a velociraptor and a triceratops, but they’re both a little goofy looking, and the perspective is so off they look almost the same size.

Epel moves in to get a closer look, tilting his head at the image. “What’re they supposed ta be? Some kind of dragons?”

A surprised laugh bursts from my mouth. “No. They’re dinosaurs.”

There’s a bewildered silence from the rest of the room. A noise I’m getting all too used to. Ace seems used to it too, because he takes it in stride and asks, “What’s that? Some kind of creature from your world?”

“Sort of. More like they used to be from my world.” There are more quizzical stares. “Dinosaurs were the creatures that ruled the planet before humans evolved.”

There’s a longer pause. Epel and Jack look at each other, as do Ace and Grim. “They ruled the planet?” Deuce asks after a moment. “Like… they were the kings?”

“They say there was an age of gods before the age of mages. Maybe they ruled like that,” Epel says. “Humans had to be careful not to provoke their wrath. Beastmen and merfolk, too,” he adds with a glance at Jack.

“What about the Fae?”

“They’re not in most of the stories my grandma told me,” Epel admits. “Eventually they say mages came about, but the stories differ on whether the mages fought back the gods or if the gods lost power and faded away.” He taps his chin with his magestone. “I think some stories actually say the Fae came from the last remnants of the gods and that’s why they’re so skilled at magic.”

“But Gray’s world doesn’t have magic,” Ace says.

“That’s true,” Jack says. He looks back at me. “How’d you beat these guys, then?”

“Nobody beat anybody,” I say. “Humans hadn’t evolved when dinosaurs went extinct. I just said that.”

“There weren’t any humans on the planet at all?” Ace asks, eyes wide. “No beastmen or merfolk or anything?” I shake my head.             “Sounds like paradise to me,” Grim snickers. “Monsters must have been in charge of everything!”

“That’s not totally inaccurate,” I say. “Some people referred to the period of dinosaurs as a time ruled by monsters. But I was more using ‘ruled’ as a metaphor- they didn’t have kings or anything. They were all just animals.”

The looks I’m getting have shifted a little, from curiosity and disbelief to something like alarm and uncertainty. Jack rubs a hand against the back of his head. “The entire planet just had animals? Nothing intelligent?”

“Some of them might have been intelligent- we never lived at the same time, so we don’t totally know how they behaved. But I don’t think it would have been anything more complex than simple tool use, like monkeys. We never had any evidence of complex societies or technology.” None of the guys look scared, per se, but they all look vaguely unsettled. Like the information is somehow sacrilegious. “Surely you guys must have learned about what your planet was like before there were people.”

There’s an uncertain moment where they all exchange glances. I feel sort of left out- what am I missing? There’s no history of the world or biology class here. Ace finally just comes out and says it. “There’s no such thing as a time before people. People have always been here.”

“What?” I glance at the others, but they don’t seem to be pulling one over on me. “Then where did people come from?”

“No one knows,” Jack says. “There are old folk tales about beastmen coming from animals due to magic, but I don’t know if anyone thinks they’re true.”

“My grandma told me humans were created in the age of the gods,” Epel adds.

“I heard humans were formed from magic due to the dreams of lonely spirits in the stars,” Deuce adds, though no sooner does he finish the sentence than Ace starts snickering.

“Dude, that’s an old kid’s tale.” Deuce’s face goes an alarming shade of red.

“Oh yeah? Then where do you think people come from?”

Ace’s mouth quirks into a shit-eating grin. “When a mommy and a daddy love each other very much-”

I elbow him in the side. “Do none of you know how people came into existence?”

“It’s not like it’s something anybody knows,” Jack huffs. “Epel’s right- our records only go back as far as the age of mages. Anything from the age of gods is pretty piecemeal. We’ve only got scraps.”

Somehow, I expected a world of magic to have more of an idea of what the past was like than my world- haven’t they figured out time travel or something yet? But maybe the presence of magic makes things worse, too. If you’ve got spells that are massively destructive or can overwrite physical laws… well, maybe more things get lost.

“Hang on,” Ace says. “How did humans come about on your planet? You talk like you know what happened.”

“I mean, we kind of do,” I say. “Like I said, dinosaurs got wiped out, humans evolved from the mammals that were left over on Earth after a lot of stuff went extinct.”

“All dinosaurs?” Epel asks. “They look so tough.” He indicates the picture of the triceratops.

“Oh, that’s not even the best one.” I sketch out another shape beneath my first two. It’s a little more complicated, but I get it down in convincing enough detail. I’ve been drawing these guys since I was a kid, after all. “That’s a Tyrannosaurus Rex.”

Epel’s eyes, already big and blue, get even bigger. “Woah. It really looks like a dragon. But without wings.”

“It can’t breathe fire, either,” I admit. “But it didn’t need to. It was the apex predator where it lived. And it was huge. Its teeth were six inches long.” Epel’s eyes are practically sparkling as he looks at it.

“But you said they all died out,” Ace said. “If it’s so awesome, then what killed it?”

“A meteor. Big ol’ rock from space. It hit the planet and wiped out all the big land mammals, including the dinosaurs.”

“A rock from space killed everything on the planet?” Jack sounds… not skeptical, but sort of incredulous.

“It was a really big rock,” I say. “Like, bigger than this island, probably. And, in fairness, there’s some debate over whether or not the meteor alone would have actually killed them all off. Some people say it was the finishing blow after a bunch of catastrophic environmental changes that were already happening, some people said it kicked off a chain of environmental changes that eventually culminated in the dinosaurs going extinct. All we know is that the dinosaurs ended up not existing anymore and then eventually people evolved from the mammals that were left over.”

There’s a pause while the rest of the group takes that in. “Your world’s weird,” Ace finally says.

“Don’t say that,” Deuce protests.

“It’s true!”

“Your world’s weird too,” I say midly. “You’ve got magic.”

“Magic’s normal,” Ace insists. I roll my eyes.

“Hey,” Epel says, still gazing at my drawing. “You said humans evolved from mammals after the dinosaurs died out. But evolution takes a long time- even stuff like birds getting different beaks or bugs becoming resistant to pesticides takes generations. How could humans have come about from totally different mammals?”

“I mean, I didn’t say it was fast. It took, like, upwards of sixty million years to get from dinosaurs to humans.”

There’s another round of stunned silence. Epel’s jaw drops. Jack blinks rapidly. Ace and Deuce just stare. “Sixty…” Epel says. “Sixty… million years.”

“Yeah. I mean, life itself was around on the planet for like, over a billion years, so sixty million is kind of small fry in comparison.” Epel’s eyes go rounder and wider. Deuce’s eyes are also the size of dinner plates. Even Jack looks stunned. Ace, however, looks only startled for a moment before bursting into peals of laughter.

Everyone turns to look at him. “What’s so funny?” Deuce asks.

“C’mon!” Ace casts his gaze over everyone in the group. “She’s clearly pulling our leg.”

Deuce fixes me with a questioning stare. “Are you?”

“No! I’m not!”

“Come on, Gray. You don’t have to keep it up. A world ruled by monsters, fine. I can buy that. But you’re just making those times up. No way anything’s been around that long.” Ace smirks. “But hey, you did have me going there for a bit. Try not to make your stories so crazy next time.”

“It’s not a story,” I insist. I look over at Epel and Deuce for help.

“Well…” Epel says, not quite meeting my eyes. “It does sound a little far-fetched.”

“But it’s not like I have a reason to lie about it,” I point out. “Deuce, come on. You trust me, right?”

“I don’t think you’re lying,” he assures me. “But maybe you got the times or the numbers mixed up? That happens to me in history class a lot.”

“I didn’t. I loved learning about dinosaurs and early life on Earth when I was a kid. I never would have gotten it mixed up. And even if I didn’t have the numbers exactly right, I know the planet’s been around for billions of years.”

“Cool it, all of you,” Jack grumbles. “Gray wouldn’t lie about something like this. If she says it’s true, then it’s true.”

I smile at him, relieved. “Thank you.”

“Doesn’t it sound ridiculous to you?” Ace prods. “I mean, billions of years?”

Jack shrugs. “Maybe it’s true. Maybe it isn’t. I don’t know. But Gray says it’s true, and I don’t think she’d lie to us, or tell us something she thinks is wrong.” He turns his steely gaze to me. “Right?”

“Of course not!” Jack nods once, satisfied, then turns back to his textbook.

“Fine, whatever. It’s not worth fighting over.” Ace slumps back against his seat. I can’t help but feel a little rankled that he thinks I might lie, but it is also something he would totally do. I can’t blame him too much for believing I might do it too. Epel goes back to his work as well, but he still takes sideways glances at my little dino drawings. I don’t know if he believes me or not, but he seems to want to.

Deuce, on the other hand, is more direct. “Sorry, Gray. Jack’s right. We shouldn’t have doubted you.”

“Thanks, Deuce.” He smiles at that, relieved, and goes back to his work.

The little birds and planes lift off once more, having been grounded during out short conversation. I felt a little uneasy watching them before, but now there’s a yawning chasm in my stomach. Ace wasn’t disagreeing with me about timespans just for the heck of it- it’s something he would do, sure, but it’s not what he was doing this time. He genuinely didn’t believe me. He genuinely didn’t believe a world could be around for that long.

Our worlds feel so similar most of the time. But they’re really not the same at all, are they?

Epel’s bird glides through the little obstacle course with ease and he turns to give Deuce some directions. Ace has found his own fun in dive-bombing Grim’s bird/plane and is egging Jack to get in on the action, despite Jack’s solemn refusal. I watch them, retreating further and further into the cushions of the couch as I do. They look like they’re all having fun. We’re all friends here. I know we’re all friends. But sometimes it feels like I’m sort of superfluous. Crowley let me in as a part of Grim’s attendance, but Grim could probably attend on his own. He's a troublemaker, sure, but not any worse than plenty of other people here. Most of the time, it feels like I’m just here because I have nowhere else to go.

Ace’s plane misses its dive-bomb on Grim’s and wheels around, plowing straight into Ace’s face. There’s a burst of laughter, and I join in, more half-heartedly than the rest. It’s stupid, but I really wish I could be part of their antics like this. Playing with them instead of sitting on the sidelines and watching.

Sassy picks that moment to wander in from wherever she was sleeping and immediately takes all the flying birds and planes as toys for her. She tackles Grim’s straight out of the air and shreds it before taking off after Ace’s. The entire group descends into confusion trying to stop her. The chaos lasts for only about two minutes, in which she manages to snag everyone’s flying objects and even drops Epel’s bird at my feet, like she’s presenting me with a kill. Then, completely oblivious to the damage she’s wrought, she curls up and starts bathing.

“Gray!” Ace protests. “Look what your cat did to my plane!”

“She’s not my cat. She just lives here.” I shoot back. It’s technically true. I don’t feed her- she just kind of hangs out. I assume she’s hunting down whatever rats or mice hide out here for her meals. “I’m sorry, but I don’t control her. I guess she thought maybe they were real birds or something?”

Ace looks ready to rip me a new one, but the click, click, click of heels down the hall gives him pause. Vil, Rook practically skipping along behind him, appears in the doorway. “The study group is over. Dinner is ready, and then we’re going to run song rehearsal afterward. Gray, as our manager, I expect you’ll straighten things up.” He sweeps his searing gaze across all of us before turning and heading back toward the kitchen, only briefly nodding at Jack in acknowledgement. I guess he’s more polite to guests than to the people under his command.

“I’d better get going,” Jack says. “See you all in class.” He gathers his books and heads for the door. Epel groans, quietly, before standing up as well. Ace and Deuce follow him. I cast a glance around at the stuff scattered everywhere, including the scraps of plane and bird that litter the ground. I’ve been doing a lot of cleaning up after people since the VDC boot camp started.

“You know, you should help,” I tell Sassy. “Some of this is your mess.”

She peeks her head up and meows at me. I roll my eyes. “Yeah, yeah. You get started while I get dinner.”

She meows again and hops up after me as I head toward the kitchen. Probably aiming to beg for food again. She’s silly. But cute. “Just don’t try to crawl up Vil’s legs for chicken again, okay? He’s going to make you into a scarf.”

[clefaiiiry]

From the Airwaves to your Viscera

i wasn't kidding about finding a way to get lux into every fic ya know

not sure if this should be mature or explicit but hwei does have cannibalistic fantasies so ya know

now i can stop tormenting you all with incessant fic posting! for now :)

Read on AO3

Read on Tumblr - Under Read More

-~*~-

There’s a crick in Hwei’s neck, as there often is.

Before him, his canvas stares back, blank as it had been hours ago. His inspiration is a rusty old tap; when it flowed it was a raging tide, the only problem was unscrewing the damn thing.

Hwei spins his chair away from his easel and lets out a long, gravelly whine as he rubs his face. How long has it been dark for? He hadn’t really noticed. Hwei forces himself to his feet to switch on a lamp and stretches his fingers upward to the ceiling.

When he turns, his canvas is still empty. Even when he tries really hard to force paint to magically appear, it stays empty.

He’s exhausted, but sleep won’t come so he might as well paint. But if he can’t even paint, then what is he good for-

He needs a drink. He doesn’t have any alcohol so he’ll settle for something warm. Maybe it would do him some good to pour the boiling water straight onto his wretched hands-

His kitchen nook beckons and his heavy feet drag across the splotchy floor. It certainly needs a good scrub, but he’d have to shove everything off to the side for that.

While the kettle, he paces around his apartment, and makes a vague effort to fold away some clothes, but only makes it through two shirts before he decides the laundry chair is good enough. He fumbles to make his bed, a mattress on the floor with a duvet and a pillow without a case, but that plan too rapidly falls apart as he instead flops onto it facedown with a huff.

Hwei catches his gaze in his mirror, just a little desk one he uses when he can be bothered to do his makeup, and finds he doesn’t recognise himself. His skin prickles in apprehension of his unfinished piece. He has all the tools he could possibly need, all the technical know-how, so why do his hands not work? Why can his mind conjure nothing of merit? 

Soon enough his sulking is interrupted by the whistling kettle and he pours himself some tea, sipping much too early and burning his tongue. Rain is pattering against the window when he returns to his chair, mug left too close to the edge of the desk to be safe.

Hwei switches on the radio. He’d gotten it from Lux, an old thing probably due for the bin rather than his windowsill. It sounds about ready to blow every time he turns it on and cooperates only when it feels like it, but he likes it all the same. Hwei had only upgraded to a smartphone once his old brick had finally packed in and he couldn’t find a new battery for it.

Static crackles as he switches through frequencies, until finally a voice comes through,

“-much appreciated. We’re just now approaching- two-thirty in the morning, and those of us with sense may seek to retire for the evening.” Static rumbles with the man’s chuckle. “But sense is vastly overvalued in my humble opinion.”

The voice is deep, almost melodic, its warmth burrowing its way deep into Hwei’s bones. This would do. He leans back, pulls his feet up onto his chair, and braces his mug in both hands.

The host continues, “I do hope you are all satisfied with the playlist this evening, but if you aren’t then I’m afraid your other options are lacking. I don’t believe anyone else in the area runs this late anymore, so you’re stuck with me, poor thing.”

Hwei hums, lips twitching in a little smile as he goes for another attempt at his tea. It’s still not quite cool enough, but he doesn’t scald his lips this time. He leans forward to listen,

“Now, I’d like to let these next three play in their entirety. Now, if you’re a returning listener you’ll know I prefer instrumental pieces, but I can be persuaded to tolerate vocals.”

The host’s chuckle draws one from Hwei, like sharing the room with him.

The host goes into particulars regarding the upcoming songs before he lets them play. First is a gradual build of a quiet piano and strings that eventually crescendos in a resounding tidal wave, the next carries the intensity with strings and light synth, before the final song returns to a gentle lull with soft male vocals.

Together the songs feel like a journey, an adventure to the highest peak of a forgotten mountain. Like he’d trudged through sleet and snow to reach the very top, then slowly worked his way back down to earth.

A climb to the divine… and a fall back to mortality.

Hwei drops his mug on the desk with a loud thunk. If it had spilt, he didn’t notice, there were more important matters to focus upon. His hands move of their own accord, colours vibrant on the canvas. Jagged cliffs pierce the sky, a tattered hand breaking through to claw at the horizon, a single beam of heavenly guidance reaching back-

At least, that’s what they could be, what he intends for them to be. Art is rarely so straightforward.

He steps back and takes it in, tilts his head, is amazed to find he doesn’t hate it after staring at it for more than ten seconds. It’s still rough, needs a touch up on the uglier lines, but it’s progress, more than he’s had in weeks. 

Something rumbles at his ears and he realises the radio has died into static. The show must be over. Hwei stares at it for a moment longer before he takes note of the frequency on a little scrap of paper, then finally switches it off.

-~*~-

The moment he sees it again, Hwei hates his canvas.

In the light of morning he picks apart every stroke and smudge of paint he’d subjected upon that poor thing and finds a potent nausea bubbling in his stomach. The image is too bleak, too morbid, torn flesh shattering upon sharp blades of stone.

He considers shattering his fingers, placing them in the window and slamming it down until they’re broken and just as useless as they feel.

Suppressing the thought, he removes it from the easel and leans it against the wall, facing away. If he had to look at it any longer he was going to vomit. No, that was a bit dramatic, but he would certainly fantasise about tossing it out of the window. But what if it hit someone on the way down? He’d never forgive himself.

Once again, Hwei entertains the idea of cleaning his apartment and makes it as far as taking out the rubbish before he realises how late it is. He fumbles to scrounge up a full outfit from his floor, grabs his bag, and almost forgets to lock the door on the way out.

Not like there would be anything worth stealing.

-~*~-

The Crownguards come from the sort of old money Hwei could only ever dream of. While Hwei had got Lux a new plant pot for her succulent, her older brother had casually bought her, among other things, a new car. The way she said the make made it sound important, but he didn’t really know enough about that sort of thing to judge.

“You know,” Lux says as she turns the little pot over in her hands, “I prefer this.” It’s a little ceramic cream one shaped like a sheep with big shiny eyes and pink cheeks.

“You don’t have to say that,” Hwei says. She pouts.

“I’m serious! Larry looks so sad in his current pot, he needs a spruce up! This is perfect!”

She places it in the centre of the table and stares intently, as if another plant might sprout up if she wills for it hard enough. She’s deep in thought when she suddenly jerks and clasps her hands together.

“Oh! I got you something too!”

“Now hold on,” Hwei says, “it’s your birthday. You’ve got this backwards.”

Lux rolls her eyes. “Well, my birthday present to me is getting a treat for my friend! Ta-dah!”

The wrapping paper is almost too nice to tear, done up with a little ribbon and bow. Hwei mourns it before he begins to carefully peel from the taped edges. She’s bouncing in her seat by the time he finally folds it back.

Within the paper is a little wooden box, reminiscent of the sort one would expect to find a ballerina dancing inside. A golden crest adorns the lid, one that makes his stomach drop.

“Lux, I can’t accept this, it’s too much-”

“Don’t be silly! I insist!”

People are starting to stare so he accepts defeat and cradles the box in his arms like a wounded animal. He feels like crying.

“I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it! Hopefully this helps with the ol’ art block!”

A cold, heavy rock lodges itself into his throat. She’s staring at him with that huge, toothy grin and bright eyes, like she sees something he doesn’t.

Like she doesn’t see what he sees when he looks in the mirror.

A part of him wants to throw them back at her, as if it could ever be that simple! A darker part is tempted to throw it into the street just to make a point. But he doesn’t, because he knows she doesn’t mean it like that, that she’s just trying to be supportive and helpful.

The cold spreads downward into his lungs and he stares into his cup. Besides, why couldn’t it be that simple? He has sparks of inspiration all the time, why can’t he just create without second guessing himself? Without creating something hideous?

“Oh,” Lux says, breaking him from his stupor, “so I met up with Quinn the other day and-”

He’s grateful for the change of subject, especially since he isn’t expected to say much beyond the odd, ‘oh really?’ or ‘that’s nuts.’ She does try to prompt more of a contribution at first, but quickly realises it’s one of those days so lets him listen in peace.

Then she starts to fidget, her gaze lingering through the window. Lux purses her lips and taps an arrhythmic pattern into her cup with her nails. She’s had them done recently. They look nice, better than Hwei’s. His are still chewed and chipped, due a fresh coat of polish.

“What’s wrong?” Hwei asks and she nearly jumps out of her seat.

“Well, I- So urh, my aunt is running an art show between Christmas and New Year?”

“Oh. That’s cool.”

“Yeah!”

The silence that lingers between them drags on for much longer than he’d prefer. Lux finally sighs and sits up straight. She’s taller than him, but only because of how appalling his posture is, puffing up her chest to earn that extra inch or two.

“I think you should enter.”

Yep, about what he expected. Hwei shrugs. “I’m not sure…” he lies. He knows damn well what is stance is regarding such things-

“I like your stuff! And I’m sure other people would too, if you gave it a chance. It’s really great!”

He knows his work holds objective quality, on a technical level at least, but that stands for naught when it’s about as shallow as a child’s paddling pool. Not like he can help it; he can’t best the part of him which dreads what he’ll find if he digs any deeper.

Hwei finds his feet are suddenly deeply fascinating as he struggles to meet her intense stare. She deflates.

“Look, I don’t want to pressure you or whatever, I just- I really want more people to see your work. To really see the stuff you can do!”

“I-” He’s about to argue when he sees her face again and curse his humanity. Hwei rubs the bridge of his nose. “Let me see if I can finish something, and I’ll think about it.”

“You’re the best!”

Lux’s grin should be comforting, but it only twists the cold knife in his stomach even deeper.

-~*~-

When the radio crackles to life the following evening, Hwei can finally put a name to the voice.

Khada Jhin.

The music is pleasant enough to fill the silence and Hwei very rarely finds himself disapproving of the song selection. There are duds, of course, albums Jhin will sing the praises of while Hwei frowns through the set, but they just make him appreciate the good ones all the more. If anything, the alternative perspective is refreshing.

Jhin isn’t live every night, only Monday through to Thursday from one o’clock till five, but Hwei diligently listens to most of his shows. He doesn’t even do it consciously after a while, simply finds himself huddled by his desk with the soothing static. His sleep schedule is royally, completely screwed, but it’s not like he’d sleep even if he weren’t listening, and the routine is… nice.

Who was he kidding, the reason he kept tuning in was to listen to Jhin’s voice. That warm, comforting cadence has thoroughly imprinted itself into his soul and he’s shamefully addicted to the sound of it.

Hwei wonders if this is how a cosmonaut feels while they’re up in space, observing life below from afar. Out of reach but so very real. He also ponders on how long he’ll stay adrift before he runs out of air.

Jhin doesn’t talk that much, probably a thirty-seventy split on talking and music if Hwei had to put a number on it, but he listens to every word. Jhin speaks like an old friend one hadn’t seen for years, regaling tales of his life with all the theatrics of a playwright, and Hwei wants- needs to discover every piece of who this man is. And he does, piece by piece.

Jhin used to work as a composer, Jhin has a cat named Yuumi who he loves to death, Jhin is at least forty years old, Jhin prefers red wine over white, Jhin’s favourite flowers are lotus blossoms-

Hwei too could appreciate the beauty of lotus blossoms. He wasn’t particularly knowledgeable about flowers as a rule, but the lotus typically represented purity or rebirth, sometimes divinity depending on who you asked.

His mind wanders, stuck on the thought of how hard it would be to weed flowers blooming from one’s own skin. He feels itchy afterward, unclean.

It’s been a month since he discovered Jhin’s show. Tonight he’s playing some tracks by an artist Hwei had never heard of, but had recently gone mainstream after joining a boy group called Heartsteel. He had heard of them, but only because Lux was totally obsessed with their debut single.

“I did meet him before he lost his voice, back before he was forced into purely instrumental work,” Jhin says, almost melancholic, “a shame, really, his vocal talent was quite special. At least he’s finding success in other places.”

Hwei spares a glance to his canvas, staring back as blank as it had been hours ago. He bundles his blanket closer around his shoulders.

“Now,” Jhin’s voice guides him back like a candle in a storm, “as we are into our final hour, and because station management are getting quite particular about engagement- Urgh, we shall be opening requests again this evening. However, if any of you ask for some top forty schlock again, those privileges shall be revoked, management be damned.”

As he reads out the number, Hwei glances to where his phone is perched on the edge of his desk. He had considered ringing in at least a dozen times. What would he even ask for? He wasn’t particular, the type to say, ‘oh, I’ll listen to anything.’ It was a small roadblock, really, for an opportunity to talk to the man whose voice had kept him company for so many nights.

Hwei covers his face with a groan, his heels thumping onto the floor as he kicks his legs out.

Just pick something! Anything!

But what if he picked something Jhin didn’t like? 

Then I’ll just have to run off and start a new life in the forest-

Alright, now he really is being dramatic.

Hwei looks at his phone again, reaches out and strains his fingers across the desk until he can fumble it into his hand. He knows the number, even without Jhin repeating it. It’s so easy! Just dial it in and-

Hwei slams it back on the desk, face down, and hugs his knees up against his chest.

Another listener requests a song named The Turning of Our Bones. It’s a slow build of guitar with a gravelly vocalist, visceral in a way that tempts brush strokes from his idle hands.

A chest being torn open, ribs cracked and blood spilled. Hands carve their way into the cavity and clutch the heart within. The blood is purple, the heart is gold-

It’s only when the song ends that Hwei is struck by how morbid his creation is. Morbid, but oddly… beautiful.

He places it against the wall with the others.

-~*~-

Another few weeks pass before Hwei dials the number again. The dim screen illuminates his even darker room, thumb hovering over the call button, then he locks it and rubs his face. Jhin’s already had a few callers this evening who wanted to chat as well, so he’s probably sick of it anyway, Hwei reasons.

He spins on his chair and entertains the idea of adding to this piece, but he’s already sick of this one. It’s placed against the wall like the rest. He replaces it with a blank canvas.

The neighbours across the street have their Christmas decorations up already, the tacky LEDs making him squint every time he turns to the window. They’re not so bad, they’re a suitable excuse not to switch his own lights on.

He’s struck by how morbid it would be for someone to choke on them, be hung by them-

“I hate Christmas,” Jhin says with a sigh, “I know, I know, ‘how could I possibly?’ Yes, call me Ebenezer Scrooge. If you ask me, everything is far too loud and bright this time of year. Or perhaps I’m showing my age.” He laughs and Hwei feels the tension bleed from his shoulders.

But then he finds himself wondering, does Jhin have anyone to spend Christmas with? He’s never mentioned a partner or any family, other than Yuumi. Maybe his distaste is more personal than he lets on.

Or maybe Hwei is just projecting.

Lux would probably be going home for the holidays and, even though she’s always extended the offer for him to come with, he can’t think of anything more uncomfortable than surrounding himself with someone else’s family. He barely even knew how to act around his own.

He looks at his easel again, still blank, then to his phone, still on the desk.

Jhin continues, “it’s partially why we haven’t queued up any seasonal songs. I get sick of all of them after the first week of November. Perhaps that’s why I find myself in a rut at the moment.” Jhin gives a wistful sigh. “Nothing I put to paper passes my standards these days. My fellow creatives can relate, I’m sure.”

Did Jhin spend hours staring at his sheet music too? Wondering how to create something beautiful, something meaningful? He always seems so natural, the admission is a chip in the mask. It strikes Hwei as impossibly human.

A reminder Jhin is not the sun keeping him warm in the vastness of space but a fellow cosmonaut left adrift.

Hwei sits up and, before he can reconsider, he takes his phone and dials the number. His fingers tremble around the device as it rings, pressing it harder to his ear.

Then there’s a click.

“Hello?” he says.

“Good evening. May I take your name?”

“I- Hwei.”

“And how are you this evening, Hwei?”

His composure is rapidly depleting. “Oh, I’m…” Hwei gives a breathy little laugh, “surviving.”

Jhin chuckles and suddenly Hwei’s throat feels very dry. “A sentiment I’m sure many of us share. Now, what can I play for you, my dear?”

“I- I’d actually like to ask for your opinion on something, if I may?”

The beat of silence lasts a little too long before Jhin says, “Is that so?”

“Yes. I- I just… How do you decide if a piece is… good enough?”

His voice is so irritating, perhaps he should do everyone and favour and cut his tongue out-

Jhin hums, a low sound that seeps through his skin. “That is truly an impossible question to answer,” he says, but he doesn’t sound disappointed or, god forbid, bored. He maintains the casual tone as he continues, “what I might find valuable in a piece will certainly be different than what you do. Now, tell me, Hwei, what do you truly love about the art that speaks to you?”

“When… When I can feel how the artist has poured their soul into their work. So I suppose… empathy.” His chair creaks as he spins on it to look at his canvas. “How else can we find meaning, without empathy?”

Jhin is quiet for a moment, just long enough that Hwei nearly slams the phone down, but then he hums. “What an interesting perspective. How fascinating. Though if we limit ourselves purely to the artist’s intent, doesn’t that also limit the piece itself? A parent may have good intentions for their child, but they may also be that which suffocates them, no?”

“Y-Yes, that’s true. I’ve lost count of how many times a piece hasn’t turned out the way I planned.”

“That I can certainly relate to.”

Jhin laughs and Hwei does too. He feels a little dizzy.

“Now, as much as I would love to continue, we’ve not much time left.” Before the shame can take hold, Jhin continues, “What can I play for you this evening, Hwei?”

Hwei blinks, stares ahead blankly. The lights across the street glow green. “I… didn’t think about that part, I’m sorry to waste your time.”

Jhin tuts through his teeth. “Now, now, time enjoyed is never wasted.”

And oh, how his heart flutters. Words die in his throat before he can embarrass himself and he’s grateful that Jhin continues without pause,

“What if I pick something for you, Hwei?”

“I would like that.”

“I hope I don’t disappoint. Take care now, my dear.”

“Y-Yeah. Thank you.”

In the moments following, the dial tone is deafening. It takes him far too long to put his phone down. My dear, it feels much too tender. Jhin uses pet names for listeners all the time but for Hwei, it just felt-

Through art, connection-

As the song starts, Hwei slowly stands and turns to his easel. He opens the box of paints from Lux and takes a long, deep breath. His brush dances with the music, a quiet build of strings and flutes. In Cold Light is the title of the song, and the way the notes flow leaves him adrift in the cosmos.

Just him and his canvas, Jhin’s voice resonating in his skull.

The colours flood together, blue and gold and flecks of purple. Each brush stroke feels intimate, purposeful. He’s missed this, to simply be as he creates.

Soft petals bloom from his brush, a blanket of stars, two little figures adrift in the abyss between, reaching out to each other, outward to a blooming lotus above. Reaching for divinity, as one-

Or perhaps a new beginning? Rebirth, a cycle beginning anew-

Hwei paints through the rest of Jhin’s show, even as the music changes and the night grows older. Only when Jhin signs off and the station goes quiet is the brush finally set down.

He takes a step back and wipes his sleeve across his forehead, damp paint smudging across his skin. The canvas that stares back doesn’t disgust him, doesn’t horrify or torment.

It warms, it comforts, it inspires-

And in the quiet of his apartment, slowly growing orange in the sunrise, he wonders if Jhin would like it too.

-~*~-

“It’s beautiful.”

Hwei shuffles awkwardly as Lux marvels at his work. 

Whether or not his piece was beautiful wasn’t the point, is what he wants to say. He knows the objective quality is sufficient but what does it say? What does it mean to her eyes that it couldn’t mean to anyone else?

“You… like it?”

“I love it! It’s like a narrative, right?” She points but keeps her hands a respectable distance from the canvas. “These little blobs are being rejected by the flower and falling out into the black. Well, okay, that’s what I think is happening, but I could be totally wrong.”

Hwei only shrugs. The surface level analysis isn’t necessarily incorrect it’s just-

He needs something else.

“Seriously, though, it’s really amazing!”

“Thank you. Do… you think your aunt would find it satisfactory?”

She whirls on him, eyes huge and grin even brighter. “You’re submitting?!”

“Do you think it’s good enough?”

Lux opens her arms, an invitation one he takes. He likes her hugs, they’re always warm and slightly too tight. Hwei squeezes back just as hard.

Wonders how hard he’d have to squeeze to crack her bones. The thought is an ice cold blade straight into his skull and he swallows the tide of nausea that follows.

“Alright, mister,” Lux says as she finally pulls away, “Just because you’re casually making masterpieces doesn’t mean I’m going to forgive this!” She gestures wildly around the room and he blinks. 

“What?”

“Your place is a mess! C’mon, we’re gonna clean up, right now! I don’t care if you had plans-”

-~*~-

Would stepping out into traffic be more tolerable than the knowledge that people would see, and by this point had already seen, his art? Probably, but Hwei hadn’t seen a big enough truck on his way over so that plan was a bust.

Lux is waiting for him when he finally arrives at the gallery, grinning ear to ear, and Hwei is made painfully aware of how underdressed he is.

It’s his own fault, really, Lux had said it would be formal dress, but he didn’t own anything that could even be considered close to formal. Got rid of most of it when he left home. Formal for Hwei usually meant brushing his hair and tossing on a jacket. He tugs at his collar and tries very hard to stand up straight, ignoring how his spine cracks and pops with the effort.

“How are you feeling?” Lux asks as she holds the door for him.

Terrified, queasy, disgusting-

“Tired,” he settles on, nodding his thanks as he scurries through.

Lux snorts. “You’re always tired.”

Well, she’s not wrong.

The walls are pure white, floors a perfectly polished hardwood, and both so spotless that Hwei keeps looking behind him to ensure he hasn’t left any blemishes behind. When he isn’t obsessively inspecting his own trail, he finds it hard to pick just one piece to admire.

How can he possibly when each of them is such a pure representation of the creator’s soul?

He’s happy to have Lux there, if anything for the different perspective. She lingers for longer at pieces he only gives a minute of time, enamoured. They only voice their opinions occasionally for a particularly striking work, but it’s nice to have her by his side as they stroll through the exhibits.

Occasionally, there’s the sudden urge to plunge a blade through the canvases, to topple over the sculptures, but he stifles them, covering his mouth and swallowing the bile that threatens his throat.

They’ve made it about halfway through the exhibition when an elbow suddenly jabs into his side and Lux waves a hand. “Hwei, look, look, look!” She whispers, dragging him across the hall to-

Ah, that’s his.

It’s different under the artificial light of the gallery. Hwei isn’t fond of how it reflects on his shades of purple, but it does bring out the gold- it’s not bad, just different. It feels a little surreal, seeing his work somewhere other than his own apartment. There’s a layer of disconnect that feels… weird in a way he can’t place. Lux doesn’t say anything, simply lets him be in the moment, but it’s impossible to miss her blinding smile just in his periphery.

Shoes click against the hard floor behind them and they both turn to the approaching man. He’s quite a bit taller than Lux, and even she isn’t short by any means, with shoulders so wide that Hwei wonders how he hasn’t knocked over any sculptures yet.

Okay, that was a little mean-

The man rights his posture once he reaches them. “Lux.”

“Garen!”

“Inside voice, please!” The man, Garen, jabs a finger toward her and looks around frantically. “And no running! If Uncle Eldred catches you, he will have a fit-”

“Oh, pish-posh,” Lux says with a wave of her hand, “Uncle Eldred will have a fit if the centrepiece is half an inch to the left.”

Garen stiffens and clears his throat. He finally pays Hwei a glance. “Ah, are you- you must be Mr Lukai. Lux- Luxanna has told me a lot about you.”

The emphasis on his title strikes him as a little odd, but he tries his best to ignore it. “Hwei is fine, thank you. Garen is it?”

“Urh, yes. I’m Luxanna’s brother.”

He takes Garen’s offered hand and tries not to think about how clammy the larger palm feels around his. Hwei is sure his smile looks as awkward as it feels. 

The silence that follows is so unbearable that Hwei is sure plucking each of his fingernails one by one would be less painful.

“Garen,” Lux says, mercifully breaking it, “this is actually Hwei’s piece! What do you think?”

Garen’s mouth opens and closes a few times, reminiscent of a fish in a filthy aquarium. Finally, he says, “It’s certainly- abstract.”

“It's actually impressionist,” Lux says, beaming a grin to Hwei, “right?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, I guess so.”

“Ah. It’s… well,” Garen fumbles, rubbing at his chin, “it’s very… urh…”

His jaw clenches as Lux’s grip on his arm tightens like a tourniquet. “It’s very…?” she prompts, her smile bordering on manic.

Even though he’s standing there in his family’s gallery wearing a suit that probably cost more than Hwei’s monthly rent, he can’t help but feel a little bad. All this stuff is very clearly not Garen’s forte, eyes darting about as he finally forces out a,

“It’s um, colourful?”

Lux blinks once, twice, then she turns to Hwei. “Could you excuse us?” she says with one last smile before she drags her brother away.

Once they’re just out of earshot, she bombards him with a tirade, every word shrinking him back further as he attempts to form apologies.

Hwei watches for a moment longer before he sighs and steps back-

And crashes straight into the man behind him.

“Oh, I’m sorry-”

“No, it’s my fault, I thought you’d heard me.”

Hwei scrambles to stand back, ensuring the man is unscathed. He brushes himself off as his eyes crease with a smile. The man has a medical mask over the lower half of his face, not an uncommon sight with flu season at its peak. His right arm is kept under his jacket, his left holding a metal cane. Part of him wonders how long he’d be able to walk without it and Hwei scolds himself again.

“Are you alright?”

“Quite fine, I assure you.”

His voice sinks into his bones like falling into a hot bath at the end of a long day. A voice that’s been so intimately familiar over the past two months of his life.

Hwei realises he’s staring and swallows another apology. “Have we, um, met?”

The man tilts his head. “I don’t believe so. I feel as though I’d remember your face if we had.”

“No, I mean- are you Jhin?”

Recognition flashes behind those eyes. “What’s your name?”

“Hwei.”

“A pleasure. I see you’ve escaped your rut,” the man- Jhin says, gesturing with his cane, “And my, I’m glad that you did.”

“Do you like it?” Hwei cringes. Could he be any more needy?

Jhin takes a few steps past Hwei, never taking his eyes away from the canvas. He does put a little weight onto the cane as he walks, so it seems to not just be an aesthetic choice. He taps it on the ground, four times in all, the sounds reverberating through the hall. “Like is a little simplistic, but I suppose so, yes.”

From the corner of his eye, he spots a blonde head and a frantically waving arm. Hwei glances over and Lux is grinning back, gesturing toward him and shooting him a pair of thumbs up. All he can manage in return is an awkward little wave.

“Though I don’t love it,” Jhin says plainly, “There’s potential here, but something is missing.”

Hwei bristles. “And what would that be?”

“Even I’m unsure,” Jhin says, still not paying him a glance, “Tell me, how did you feel when you made this?”

Hwei shrugs, because he isn’t sure what else to do. He twists his hands into the fabric of his jacket and tilts his head so more of his hair covers his face. “Oh, you know.”

“No. I don’t.” The cane taps against the floor again, once, twice, three times, four times. “Explain your thought process.”

His head is throbbing, pounding. Pressure builds behind his eyes as Hwei wracks his brain for an acceptable answer. Is there anything he could say that wouldn’t be utterly pathetic? I projected my own insecurity onto a person I’ve never met. I thought of the two of us ascending to divinity, reborn in a form that could comprehend us as we are. 

“I felt… Inadequate,” Hwei says, an admission that leaves something dark coiling in his gut, “I’d been trying to create something, anything that wouldn’t disgust me for months. I- I figured if anyone would understand, it would be you.”

He can’t bring himself to look at Jhin, so he just stares at the two little figures. There’s no discernable features, he only sees them as humans since that was his intent when he painted them, just two blobs on a sea of black.

“I see. How fascinating.”

The voice jolts him from his thoughts and when he looks up, Jhin is gazing back.

“I do wish to learn more of how that mind of yours works, Hwei, if you don’t mind.”

Hwei smiles. “I don’t.”

Perhaps he is dreaming, or perhaps only adrift. 

-~*~-

Having a second contact in his phone makes the whole thing feel very official. They aren’t friends, it doesn’t feel right to call their relationship that given they’ve technically just met, but they’re connected. Somehow that feels… intimate.

Hwei still listens to his show, but the dynamic is different. There’s the knowledge that there’s a part of Jhin that’s his, that none of his other listeners will ever see. A selfish part of him that his parents and teachers wish they’d stripped from him, the part of him that wants and yearns.

For companionship, for understanding, for warmth, for viscera-

So Hwei, selfishly, texts Jhin quite a bit, though he vastly prefers when they get to call. Jhin tells him more about his compositions, his ever fitful muse, what sort of tomfoolery Yuumi has gotten up to. Hwei in turn offers what he thinks could be interesting; the progress of his own work, his schooling, any sort of gossip from Lux he thinks Jhin might find amusing.

It is not lost on him that neither of them broach the topic of family.

On New Year’s Eve, Jhin has no show planned for later so Hwei takes the initiative to call him first.

“How is my little starling this evening?” Jhin says through the receiver.

It’s probably a blessing that they haven’t met in person again, since it gives Hwei some time to desensitise to all the pet names he’s been showered in. “How did you know I’d be at home?”

“Hwei, don’t make me laugh. You don’t go out.”

He’s right, and it should probably be concerning how well Jhin knows him already. Hwei sighs. “What about you? Don’t you have any plans?”

“My plans are to be in bed by eleven.”

Hwei laughs. “Those ambitions are certainly admirable.”

There’s a little shuffle as Jhin presumably settles onto his sofa. Or maybe it’s an armchair? Hwei can just picture Jhin having a cosy little nook by a grand fireplace. 

“What about tomorrow?” he asks. Hwei frowns.

“What about tomorrow?”

“Have you any plans?”

Hwei pretends to think, so as not to seem too desperate. “No, nothing really.”

“Then perhaps you’d like to join me for a walk. Nothing too strenuous, I assure you.”

“You- Yeah. That… That sounds nice.”

“Do try to sound a little more enthused.”

“I’d like to!” Hwei quickly clarifies, “I just wasn’t really expecting it.”

Jhin chuckles. “I have to get you out of your cave somehow, darling.”

Hwei rolls his eyes at the teasing, suppressing the heat in his cheeks at that blasted endearment. “I would love to go for a walk with you.”

“Excellent. I’ll send you the time and place. See you tomorrow, my dear.”

After they hang up, Hwei smothers his face into his pillow and kicks his feet like he’s twelve again. It’s not a date, he reminds himself, just a walk with his not quite friend.

Just a walk-

-~*~-

Hwei’s only been waiting in the park for a minute before uncertainty rears its ugly head. Is he overdressed? Underdressed? It’s just a walk, after all, it’s not anything more serious. Just a walk!

A stroll, a saunter, a-

Hwei has to find the nearest bench to sit down before the blood rushing to his head makes him keel over.

He takes a long steady breath. It’s fine. Is his hair okay? He’d brushed it and pinned it back this morning but does it look like he’s trying too hard? Maybe he should take the pin out- No, then it would look too messy, like he hadn’t even bothered. What about his face? He’d put too much makeup on trying to hide his dark eyes and sallow skin. He probably looks like a clown. What if-

“You look rather out of sorts, poor thing.”

Hwei jumps to his feet with far too much haste and sways for a moment. Jhin reaches out but Hwei, foolishly, waves him off, staggering until he can steady himself on the back of the bench.

“I’m okay! I just- I’m a little under the weather.”

Jhin frowns. “If you felt poorly, we could have rescheduled.”

“No!” He blurts out, then just as quickly reigns himself back, “I’ll be fine, really! The fresh air will do me some good.”

A sceptical brow is raised. “If you insist, but do let me know if you need to rest.”

Jhin isn’t dressed overly formal by any means, but he’s effortlessly stylish in a way Hwei can’t help but envy. He also isn’t wearing a face mask today, Hwei realises, and tries not to focus too much on that. Though given how perfect it is, that’s definitely a tall order. 

But it isn’t perfect, not really. Jhin has laugh lines, he has a few odd grey hairs, crows feet. Yet another chip in the armour, yet another weight dragging him back to earth with the rest of humanity.

It would all rot the same as Hwei.

They set off not long after. The park is quiet, they only encounter a few odd people walking their dogs or joggers. Otherwise, they’d be undisturbed if not for the cool breeze and chirping birds.

They talk about all manner of things, art and music and literature. Their conversation flows as naturally as ever, from one subject to the next like a steady forest stream. The pretence of shyness is quickly abandoned, Hwei no longer reigning himself back to normalcy as they chatter away.

On occasion, though, he catches Jhin whispering to himself, counting his steps. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. Hwei makes a point to only broach conversation in the breaks between, otherwise he’s met by a momentary look of confusion. Jhin is quick to push it away, but it bothers him all the same, as does how Jhin is leaning heavier on his cane than he had last time. He needs to stop every so often, though does so under the guise of gesturing to something or to check on Hwei’s ‘illness,’ but Hwei can see how his expression shifts, how he clenches his jaw.

“Can we sit for a while?” Hwei asks as they approach another bench, “I’m a little tired,” he lies.

His suspicions are confirmed when Jhin accepts without even a playful jab.

As they rest, Jhin tilts his head back just so and furrows his brows, breaths coming in quiet little pants. When he catches Hwei staring, he sits up properly and smiles, all semblance of vulnerability discarded like a costume.

“Ah, I wasn’t expecting it to be quite so cold,” he says casually. Hwei doesn’t believe him, but nods anyway.

“Not to worry. We could get a coffee or something instead if you prefer?”

“No, this is nice.” Jhin shifts his weight a little, taps with his cane, one, two, three, four. Hwei wants to ask about that, but decides now is not the time.

He’s not sure when there will be a good time.

“Does that help you focus?”

Jhin blinks, takes a moment to compose himself, then clears his throat and holds the handle in both hands. “In a sense, yes.”

“That’s good. That- you have a way of calming yourself, I mean.”

Jhin is still staring at him, jaw set. Something flashes across his eyes and he finally relieves Hwei from his intense gaze. “Yes, I suppose.”

“So,” Hwei says, desperate for a reprieve, “how do you know the Crownguards?”

“Hm? Ah, I unfortunately know Eldred through prior business. Thoroughly insufferable man, but it pays to have connections.” Jhin’s nose wrinkles in disgust. “And yourself?”

“I’m friends with Lux- Luxanna, sorry. She recommended I submit a piece.”

Jhin hums. “Then I have young Miss Crownguard to thank for your company.”

That leaves his breath stuttering and his lips slightly agape. Hwei takes a moment to still his pounding heart. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

Jhin tilts his head. “Then let us enjoy the peace.”

He does, and there they stay in their corner of the world. Just for a little longer.

-~*~-

It’s Jhin’s birthday at the start of February. Now Jhin hadn’t exactly told him that, Hwei just remembers him mentioning it during one of his shows and had made note just in case.

Because that was a normal thing to do.

Though it does leave him with a conundrum; what on earth could he get Jhin as a present?

“Well, have you asked him?” Lux says as they stroll down the street, window shopping for ideas. She nestles her chin further into her jacket, breaths rising in little clouds.

Hwei turns to her. “I can’t just ask him. I’ll look like I’m trying too hard.”

“Urgh, fine. Does he have anything on his wish list? Mentioned any retro vintage album he’s been looking for or…?”

“No, he wants for nothing.”

“Great! So get him something he needs!”

“He already has everything he could ever need and the money to get the few things he doesn’t.”

Lux tugs off a glove with her teeth to send a quick text to someone before she replies. “Okay… so we need something that only you could give him…”

Oh, don’t-

She snaps her fingers. “You should paint him something!”

Hwei looks at her like a deer in headlights. “No, absolutely not.”

“Why not? I’m sure he’d love it! He loved your piece at the exhibition, right?”

“Well, no. He said he liked it.”

Lux waves a hand. “Same difference.”

No, Hwei thinks, there is a very real distinct difference.

“What would I even paint?”

“Well, why not just paint how he makes you feel?”

Lux probably expects sweetness and rainbows and a dozen other cheesy things from romcoms. As if his feelings about Jhin would ever be so straightforward.

The idea is nice, but there’s that constant coil of doubt. It’s all well and good pouring his heart onto the page, but what if Jhin hates it?

Or, worse, if he doesn’t love it?

-~*~-

When Hwei looks at himself in the bathroom mirror, he finds he doesn’t really recognise himself. He knows the person he sees is him in a physical sense, but it still doesn’t feel like his body.

His body is… practical. It carries him dutifully to wherever he needs to go and only breaks down when he doesn’t sleep for three days or tries to subsist purely on caffeine. He’s never really considered himself ugly, or beautiful for that matter. He’s always just existed, in a body that doesn’t quite feel like his.

He showers, the water too far hot, dead skin flaking away when he scrubs. It leaves him tender and raw, blotchy and red all over. His hair is getting too long, maybe he should cut it himself again, the option becoming more and more attractive the longer he grumbles around his knots.

Then he looks down and is struck by the most obvious reminder that he isn’t a man. Not really.

It’s never really bothered him that much before. They’re just part of his body, same as the rest of it. He trails a hand downward, cups his breast and wonders if he should be disgusted.

He is a man, in theory and mostly in practice. Lux knows him as a man, but did Garen see a man too? Or did that confuse him as much as the art on the walls? What of the average person on the street? Not that their opinions held much weight against his friend’s.

But what of Jhin?

“Shame is the crutch of creation,” Jhin had said once during their late night phone calls, “if you waste your time worrying about what someone else might think, you’ll never make anything.”

Couldn’t his own body be an act of creation? Melding it into a shape that suited his needs? Couldn’t it be made into something beautiful?

What did beauty matter if the underbelly was rotten?

His jumper is only an afterthought as he emerges from the bathroom, hands aching, skin prickling. The radio crackles as Jhin’s voice surrounds him, his head pounding.

He claws at his chest, wishing his fingers could pry the skin from muscle, muscle from bones, spill his blood and guts onto his canvas. Desecrate the body that the divine had blessed him with, because how could a holy being possibly understand a wretched creature like him?

Maybe he could free his soul and find it a new vessel, one that was more whole, more appealing.

Or maybe, he thinks as he takes up his brush, he could paint one.

-~*~-

“It’s… different,” Lux says slowly, fingers tapping at her chin. She’s not had the chance to take off her coat, her nose and cheeks still slightly red from the teeth of winter.

Hwei picks at a loose thread on his jumper, watching her through his hair. “Different in a good way?”

“I’m… I’m not sure.”

Even he isn’t sure how he feels about it. The canvas is black, a humanoid shape taking centre stage. It claws its back open, bloody wings erupting from the wounds as it weeps golden tears.

An act of desecration to achieve freedom from the self.

Maybe a bit on the nose, but-

Lux looks at his canvas, then back to him. “Are you alright?”

Hwei falters. He doesn’t like her expression. “What do you mean?”

Lux’s frown only deepens and she takes a step back, away from the canvas, away from him. “I’m really sorry, I don’t understand what would drive you to make this.”

Hwei lets out a deep, long sigh. “There’s something wrong with me, isn’t there?”

“No, no!” Lux says, “Of course not!”

She’s lying. Hwei sighs and shoves his hands in his pockets. He looks at his piece again. “What do you see?” he asks softly, hoping his voice is steady.

Lux looks at his canvas again, brows furrowing. She rubs at her chin and stares at it, even though her lips quiver and her shoulder sag. They’re both quiet for a long moment before she finally turns to him.

“I see someone hurting,” she says.

“Do you think I’m hurting?”

“Yes, and I want to understand how to help.”

“Understand?” His voice doesn’t sound like his own. Would it be easier to laugh or cry? They both bubble in his chest and threaten to breach his defences as Hwei swipes his dirty sleeves over his face. “I’ve laid it all before you, I don’t get what else there is to understand.”

“Explain it to me,” she says, though the effect is dampened by a lack of her usual enthusiasm, “is painting creepy stuff like this an outlet?”

Hwei blinks. “Creepy?” he repeats, the word bitter on his tongue.

Lux is still staring at him, so sickeningly perfect and pretty and free from blemishes. It must be nice, he thinks, to have a body already in the right shape instead of having to carve it yourself.

“Do I unsettle you, Lux?” he asks slowly.

Lux stiffens. “When you ask questions like that, yeah.”

Hwei laughs, but the sound is strained. “You know, art is most effective when it can invoke an emotional response.”

He doesn’t miss how her eyes dart to the front door.

“You’re terrified,” he says simply.

“Of course I am when you act like this and paint freaky stuff like that! Don’t try to scare me, it’s not funny!”

It’s like a thread has snapped. Hwei closes the space between them and lunges for her, grabs her arms and digs his fingers in until he feels bone.

“Is that what you truly think of me?” he breathes.

“Hwei, let go-”

“Did you always think of me as a freak? Or are only now being enlightened?”

“Get off me!”

“I don’t understand!”

“I said get off me!”

Lux shoves his against chest, hard. So hard that he lands on the ground in a graceless heap. She scrambles up backward toward the door, heaving desperately.

Hwei reaches out. “Lux. I’m so sorry, I-”

“I think you need to- to calm down,” Lux says, sniffling. She’s shaking and Hwei feels sick. “I-I’ll call you later, okay?”

She doesn’t wait for a reply, slipping her shoes back on and slamming the door hard enough to shake the walls. The sound rings in his ears, pounds in his skull as he gradually finds himself on his feet again. 

Hwei stares at the door, his head filled with cotton wool and lead. He rubs his face, the dry paint on his sleeves scratching against his skin. He sways, vertigo assaulting his senses. He wants to vomit, claw his eyes out, peel off his skin.

What is wrong with him? What isn’t?

Then he catches a glimpse of his easel. Hwei tosses it over with a heavy crash, no doubt further infuriating his downstairs neighbours. He gasps and wheezes as he stares at it. Maybe he should burn it? In this enclosed space it was extremely dangerous, but maybe then he’d burn too.

He’d deserve it, to burn alive-

Hwei stumbles back until he trips and lands on his mattress. He can’t breathe. He curls over on himself and clutches his chest, his mouth, drool escapes his lips as he pants and gasps. Tears scorch his eyes and scald his cheeks. His chest burns, his throat threatens to close in on itself.

His hand moves of its own accord, straining for his desk and closing his shaking fingers around his phone. He calls before he can even realise what he’s doing and crushes the phone against his ear.

It rings, and rings, and rings-

Then Hwei throws it away. It clatters across the floor, disappearing to some unknown corner. He curls in on himself even further.

His phone starts ringing. He crams his hands over his ears until it stops.

There he stays, until he goes numb.

-~*~-

A rhythmic tapping at his door jolts Hwei awake. He wasn’t even aware he’d drifted off, but he can’t bring himself to extract himself from the cocoon of blanket he’s found himself in.

He waits, for what he isn’t sure.

After a pause, there’s another series of knocks on his door, then,

“Hwei? I know you’re in there.”

Jhin’s voice should have been a comfort, but right now? In the state he’s in? Hwei hugs his legs impossibly closer, his other hand pressing over the ear that isn’t crammed against the pillow.

Even so, he still hears him, “I’m coming in. Even if you’re indecent.”

The door groans as it swings open, clicking shut shortly after. Jhin’s shoes and cane click against the floor with every step until they come to a stop beside his mattress.

“Hwei. Look at me.”

That voice which led him through many sleepless nights now forces him out from his duvet barrier, just enough to poke his head out and peer upward. Jhin’s stare is intense, cold and hard, but perhaps it’s the hopeful idealist within that sees something else.

Hwei sniffs and wipes his face. “Why-”

“You rang me,” Jhin says, “I was in the middle of something but by the time I could reply you wouldn’t answer any of my calls or texts.”

Hwei blinks up at him, then cold shame surges in him again. “I’m sorry.”

Jhin only hums, tapping his usual one, two, three, four with his cane before he places it against the wall. Somehow, the rhythm seems to steady Hwei’s own thundering heart as well.

Jhin crouches in front of him. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Do you think I’m dense?”

The speed at which Hwei sits up leaves him swaying. “No! Of course not.”

Jhin huffs through his nose. “Then don’t lie to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

He can’t show Jhin. Can’t stand the thought of someone else pulling back his layers and being disgusted at what they see beneath. Can’t he just be low maintenance? Make everyone else’s lives easier? They already have their own problems, they don’t need his on top of everything-

Hwei glances up again.

“I… I made something awful.”

Jhin appears near serene at the admission. “Show me.”

That putrid bile in his empty stomach lurches again. “I can’t-”

A hand seizes his jaw hard as iron, the eyes that gaze down upon him just as cold. Jhin could squash him under his shoe like an insect if he really wanted to, but his grip is only barely on the side of painful.

He leans closer. “Show me.”

Hwei nods as far as he can and, once he’s released, he wobbles up to his feet. Wading through tar would have been easier than his trudging steps to the overturned easel. It takes some fumbling, but he sits it upright again, stalling for the canvas as it’s finally propped back into place.

His shoulders sag inward as Jhin’s shoes click on the floor behind him. Heat radiates from him, the sun in Hwei’s dark, endless expanse.

Of all the sounds he expected, a chuckle was certainly not one of them.

When Hwei works up the nerve to look, Jhin is standing with his arms stretched outward. “Yes,” he sighs, “this is the sort of thing I craved from you. A truer glimpse into your soul, not the sweet nothings you hide behind.”

There’s something about his voice, the way his words flow, it feels-

Wrong.

Hwei bristles. “What are you talking about?”

Then Jhin turns to him again, his eyes brimming with- something. His grin is just a tad too wide, the hand that finds a perch on Hwei’s shoulder holding just a little too tight. “You stifle your potential to make yourself palatable. I’ve been there, grovelling in mediocrity just to feign pleasantry.”

The fingers on his shoulder trail upward, digging into his collarbone hard enough to make him flinch. Hwei wriggles free. “Is mediocrity really so bad?”

A scowl creases his face. “Why would you want to subject yourself to a lifetime of never being good enough, when you’re capable of so much more? What are you afraid of?”

It’s so hard to maintain eye contact, especially when they seem to pierce straight past every wall of defence. To the shadows he tries so hard to huddle away, to keep all packed up tight and safe. The very concept that someone could not only see it, but look upon it and not cower is-

Exhilarating.

“I’m… afraid of the part of myself that stays in the dark.”

Jhin only shrugs. “It’s there, whether you choose to acknowledge it or not. Why not nurture it into something more?”

Hwei isn’t really sure what to say. The proposition seems so self-centred and conceited, so unlike him. No, he won’t- can’t feed the part of himself that dreams of tearing his own skin, of shattering Lux’s pretty bones, of slicing apart Jhin’s handsome face.

He would never- could never-

“What do you desire?”

The question is expected, somewhat, but it causes Hwei to stumble all the same. He looks out of his window, but he can’t see the stars tonight. It’s started to rain, fat drops running down the panes. For a split second, they seem red until he blinks. Hwei takes a shaky breath and wraps his arms around himself, a puny, self-pitying mockery of a hug. Maybe if he digs his nails in hard enough he could tear the ligaments free-

“Things I can’t act upon,” he finally says.

“And if I allowed you to act upon them here, and told you that it wouldn’t leave this room, would you still deny yourself?”

Hwei takes a step back. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Jhin follows. “Oh, I hope you do.”

Hwei hits the wall and his breath stutters. Jhin slips a hand under his chin and tilts him upward, their lips a breath away.

“Pain is such an intimate thing, isn’t it?”

I want your blood to soak into my floor so it will never scrub out. I want to shatter your bones so you can never leave me. I want to eat your heart so it will always be mine.

Hwei lunges for his throat and shoves them backwards, collapsing into a heap on the ground. There’s a dull thunk as Jhin’s head hits the floor, but Hwei doesn’t have it in him to care. Hwei’s fractured, chipped nails dig into Jhin’s throat and a hand comes up to take his wrist. Jhin doesn’t try to move them, or even resist, just simply holds.

“I- ah, I promise this will be much more entertaining if I’m conscious, my dear.”

“Maybe I don’t want you conscious.” Hwei tightens his hold and revels in the wheeze it dredges up from Jhin’s lungs. “Or breathing.”

Jhin is still smiling, even as he gasps uselessly. Hwei hates it, loves it. “You wouldn’t- ah, kill me like this, would you? It’s far too- simple.”

“Oh, but it’s so very intimate, don’t you think?”

If he squeezes a little tighter, maybe that would be it. Then he really could do whatever he wanted.

Even so, his grip eases and as Jhin heaves the air back into his lungs he trails his hands downward, nails scraping along the firm muscle beneath. He feels the minute quivers below his fingers, the heat of his skin, wonders how it would feel to peel it all back and marvel at the flesh.

Eyes follow his every move and Hwei wonders how easy it would be to gouge them with his fingers.

How does his blood taste-

Hwei doesn’t stop to reconsider, to doubt. He sinks his teeth into the junction between shoulder and throat. He breaks the skin, sighs at the copper on his tongue. Jhin hisses above him, a hand sliding into Hwei’s hair and tightening enough to draw tears.

It takes a particularly hard yank to force Hwei off, red staining his lips. He blinks a few times, dazed. Then realisation, as stark as a bucket of ice water.

“I’m so-”

But Jhin cuts him off with another harsh pull, forcing his back to arch so beautifully. He whines, a hand instinctively reaching to close around Jhin’s.

“I’m sick of you apologising for breathing,” he says, his tone neutral in a way that makes Hwei shudder.

“Sorry.”

“Now you’re just being facetious.”

He wheezes out a laugh. “You’d be prettier if you stopped breathing.”

Jhin only hums, mirth dancing in his eyes. “Keep going.”

Their position tips, Hwei ends up in Jhin’s lap, one hand on Jhin’s shoulder to keep him steady. Hwei ghosts his thumb over his previous mark, smearing the blood and admiring how Jhin shivers at the sensation. His other hand sneaks up to the back of Jhin’s neck and pulls him down.

The initial kiss is soft, like school sweethearts uncertain and petrified. Hwei isn’t sure who breaks the calm first, but then it’s all teeth and sharp bites and blood- He’s not even sure who’s blood he can taste-

He dearly hopes it’s a mix of both.

Jhin doesn’t pull away so much as he hauls Hwei back once he finally needs to breathe and leaves him to gasp like a fish above water.

Once he recovers though, Hwei tugs at the hem of Jhin’s shirt. “Take this off.”

Jhin tuts through his teeth, but compiles all the same, though not without making it an agonising trial of patience. Each button might as well be a mountain to best or beast to slay.

When the fabric finally falls to the floor, Hwei momentarily forgets how vital it is to breathe.

“Have I ever told you how charming you are when at a loss for words?”

Hwei shoots him a scowl and considers slapping him, but the contact would only be temporary, it wouldn’t be enough.

Logically, Hwei knows Jhin is not God, but that doesn’t make it any less sacrilege to look upon him like this, perfect in a way that leaves Hwei so desperate to claw and bite and scratch. He wants to tear Jhin’s ribcage open, devour what is his and his alone to always keep Jhin with him.

The only blemishes that mar his skin, save for Hwei’s previous efforts, are two scars beneath his pecs. Part of him wants to reopen them, drink in the blood that spills, but another lucid part screams-

He’s like me, he’s like me, he’s-

Then Jhin’s larger hands slide under his sweater and peel back his shield. Hwei freezes and squeezes his eyes shut, anticipation clawing up his throat like bile. There’s a sigh and Hwei feels the gaping maw of the abyss open beneath him.

“Let me in,” Jhin says, as if uttering a secret.

And the rest of the universe might as well not exist.

Hwei lets out a long, quivering breath, chest impossibly tight as he lets Jhin peel back his defences like the petals of a flower. He expects to miss the safety, but instead only the warmth. Warmth which is quickly replaced by Jhin’s hands.

Hwei so desperately craves for them to pry deeper, to carve out a place inside him. Perhaps he could offer his own heart, but what good would that wretched broken thing be to anyone?

He catches Jhin’s wrist and draws it upward, his fingers coming to rest at his neck, thumb brushing his lips.

“Destroy me,” he whispers, “and build me anew.”

For the briefest of moments, it is Jhin’s turn to lose his breath. Then he leans closer, and murmurs as a prayer, “Nothing I could create would ever compare to you as you are.”

-~*~-

When Hwei wakes, everything aches.

He groans and tries to curl inward only to bump into a warm weight at his side. It takes some convincing for his eyes to finally peel open and the memories of the previous night come flooding back.

Jhin looks so different when he’s asleep, his brow at ease and his lips slightly parted. He’s snoring, though only softly, hair rumpled and sticking out in odd directions. Hwei wants to reach out and brush it back down, but touching him might just break the tranquillity of the moment.

Though that’s when he realises they’re both still very naked.

With as much grace as he can muster, Hwei shimmies from under the duvet and down to the floor, fumbling about for his sweater and underwear. It’s almost suffocating to have them back on again, the fabric rubs against his healing bruises and cuts, but they’re stabilising, they tether him back to earth.

Still, it itches. This one never usually does, he’d hate to get rid of it. Lux had got it for him and he’d kept it till it was nearly threadbare. He twists his hands into the fabric and holds them there, staring into nothing.

He wonders where his phone is, if Lux would even want to hear from him after the night prior. She had said she would call him, hadn’t she?

A ruffle of fabric behind him returns him to the waking world and he glances back to see Jhin sitting up, blinking the remnants of sleep away and rubbing his face. It’s a spare moment of graceless fumbling that Hwei wishes he could bottle and capture on a canvas.

It’s gone just as swiftly as Jhin pushes his hair back from his face and raises his gaze.

“We really must get you a proper bed,” he grunts.

Hwei only shrugs. “I don’t mind it.”

Jhin pouts, honestly pouts. “Well, I mind very much, thank you.”

It makes Hwei chuckle. “Sorry it doesn’t meet your standards.”

“It’s a little novel for one night, but I understand fully why your posture is in the state it is.”

It takes a smidge more effort than Jhin would likely admit, but he does manage to rise to his feet with all the grace he desires. Hwei goes to grab his cane but Jhin waves him off.

“I can manage without,” he says, then adds a slightly softer, “though your concern is not unwelcome.”

Hwei huffs. “It’s the least I can do.”

It’s only then Hwei realises he has nothing to offer for breakfast other than instant coffee. He fully expects Jhin to turn his nose up, but he accepts the offer.

While the kettle boils, Hwei can’t help but stare. It’s not his fault, he reasons, as Jhin is adverse to putting his clothes back on it seems. He’s lounging back in Hwei’s desk chair, admiring his easel in the golden morning light, fingers tapping his usual rhythm on the desk.

One, two, three, four, one, two, three, four-

Hwei wishes he’d had the forethought to close his blinds, not to protect Jhin’s modesty or some similar ridiculous notion, but to hide away what should only be a sight for him.

He shakes his head as the thought crosses his mind and he returns to searching for a clean mug.

The morning drags with little urgency, as if the outside world has ground to a halt just for them. Hwei perches on the end of his mattress. Jhin is probably right about getting himself a proper bed, but he just keeps putting it off…

“Is it despair or catharsis?”

Jhin’s voice rouses him once again and Hwei has to take a moment to understand what the question means. Ah, his canvas.

“Can’t it be both?” he says.

Jhin’s lips pause at the rim of the mug, then he lowers it back down to glance at Hwei. “Do elaborate.”

Hwei peers down into his own mug, feels a twinge of displeasure when he spies a hair floating and picks it out. Gives him a moment to compile his thoughts into a coherent sentence,

“Despair because the life it knew is gone forever, there’s no going back to what it was before. Catharsis because it’s finally free to spread its wings and become what it was always meant to be.”

Jhin hums, his gaze drifting back to the canvas. The moment drags, but it isn’t painful nor even unpleasant. Hwei finds he quite likes watching Jhin think.

Finally, he places his mug onto the desk and says,

“I’d like to see some of your other pieces, if you don’t mind.”

Hwei blinks. “They’re not very impressive.”

“Show me.”

It’s not a demand, but a request. For once, Jhin’s smile is pure and Hwei thinks if he does not tear his gaze away he might cry.

“I have a few…”

[newly-edgy-anon]

Tremors

Ben has essential tremors. Ben and Aiden build a LEGO castle at the end

In a sleepy suburban town, where the sidewalks were more often home to the rustle of leaves than the patter of feet, there was a boy named Ben. Ben was fourteen years old, with a shock of curly brown hair that perpetually looked as though it had just been ruffled by a gust of wind, and eyes so blue they mirrored the sky above. On the surface, he was like any other teenager navigating the treacherous waters of high school: awkward, hopeful, and occasionally lost in thought. But Ben had a secret that set him apart from his peers.

This secret wasn't the kind that could be shared over a hushed lunchtime whisper or a furtive glance at a smartphone screen. It was something much deeper, something that trembled within him. Literally. Ben Clark had essential tremors, a condition that caused his hands to shake uncontrollably at the most inopportune moments. It was a constant, silent companion that trailed him through the hallways, taunting him from the sidelines of his dreams. It made writing his name on the board in class feel like an Olympic sport, and holding a cup of water was a balancing act worthy of a Cirque du Soleil performer.

The tremors weren't a recent development; they had been with him for as long as he could remember. As a child, Ben had learned to hide them, to keep his hands tucked away in his pockets or folded neatly in his lap, but as he grew, so did the tremors. They became a part of his identity, a shadow that grew longer and more pronounced with each passing year. His mother, a doctor, had tried every treatment imaginable, but to no avail. The tremors remained, a stubborn constant in a world that often felt like it was slipping away from his grasp.

Enter Aiden, Ben's cousin. Aiden was a year younger, but they had always been close. Whenever Aiden visited, Ben's tremors took a back seat to their shared adventures. Aiden had a way of making him feel normal, of seeing beyond the tremors to the person beneath. This particular afternoon, they decided to build a Lego castle together—a project Ben hadn't attempted in years due to his condition. The plastic bricks, so precise and unforgiving, had become a symbol of his limitations. But with Aiden by his side, the tremors seemed a little less daunting.

They spread the Lego pieces out on the floor of Ben's room, the sunlight from the window casting a warm glow over the colorful pile. Aiden meticulously sifted through the bricks, his own hands steady as he searched for the perfect pieces to begin their fortress. Ben watched with envy, his own hands trembling as he tried to mimic his cousin's dexterity. Aiden noticed and handed him a piece, a gentle smile on his face. "Here, let's start with the base."

Together, they built layer upon layer of the castle, their heads bent in concentration. The tremors didn't go away, but with Aiden's calming presence and their shared excitement for the project, they became less of a hindrance. Ben felt his heart swell with gratitude for his cousin, who never made him feel like a burden or different. It was in these moments that Ben truly felt seen, not as the kid with the shaky hands, but as Ben, the builder of castles and slayer of boredom.

But as the tower grew taller, the tremors grew stronger. Aiden noticed Ben's struggle and suggested they take a break. They sat back, the castle sprawled out before them in all its unfinished glory. Aiden's eyes searched Ben's, looking for a hint of what he was feeling. Ben took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. "It's okay," he signed with a small smile, "let's keep going." And with renewed determination, they did. Each brick placed with care, each tremor acknowledged but not defeated, they continued their quest to conquer the Lego kingdom.

As the shadows grew longer and the light in the room shifted, Ben felt a strange sensation—his tremors had lessened. Whether it was the distraction of the Legos or the warmth of their companionship, he couldn't say. But for the first time in a long while, he felt a flicker of hope. Perhaps the tremors didn't have to define him. Perhaps, just for this moment, he could be more than his condition allowed. And as they placed the final piece, a tiny red flag atop the highest tower, Ben knew that together, they had built more than just a castle—they had built a bastion of resilience in the face of adversity.

Word count: 771

[ajleeblog]

(via Huawei Mate XT: World's First Tri-Folding Smartphone with 10-Inch Display and Advanced Camera)

[somefanchick]

-Deuce’s Winter Break-

(This story is from Deuce's perspective during the events of book four. I only know information from the English server story and events so sorry if anything is terribly out of character. This fic is platonic and is cannon for my female Yuu-sona, but I do just call them Yuu in the story. Yuu uses she/her pronouns. Hope you enjoy! Ps. There is a little bit of cussing. Found the pictures in a post by @ naruryun, they are not mine.)

“We should trade Magicam IDs now that you've got a smartphone,” Ace pulled out his phone and began typing out Yuu’s account in the search bar, “Y'know, in case something comes up.”

I smiled as I pulled up the app on my own phone, “Oh, good idea. I'll share mine, too.”

Yuu’s ID was a play on the fact that the headmaster called her “Beast Master” after we got back from the dwarf’s mine. I could always tell she was secretly proud of that title. 

Ace finished adding her, “Feel free to hit me up if you get bored over winter break.”

She smirked, which was her form of a smile, “Thanks, I'll do that.”

“Man, you take everything I say so seriously Yuu,” Ace chuckled, “I was joking.”

I glared, “Then it was a lame one,” I then turned to smile at Yuu as I added her, “Anyway, feel free to reach out if you need anything at all,” I quickly tucked my phone in my pocket and grabbed my bag, “My mom's probably waiting on me, so I'd better go,” I began walking towards the Dark Mirror, “Happy holidays guys.”

I could hear Ace behind me, “Yeah, I'll do the same. See you next year!” I could hear him running to catch up with me, but I was already whispering the name of my street and stepping into the murky abyss.

It was hard to see my mom among the other kids meeting their families. Children cheering as their older siblings came home from their schools, parents hugging their grown babies and fussing over their bags of laundry, and the students basking in the attention that coming home brings. 

I looked through the crowd and found my mom. My grandmother always said I was the spitting image of her. She had straight, navy blue hair cut into a bob, blonde streaks weaving into a larger mass of hair.  Her eyes looked gray in the afternoon sun, but I knew they were really cyan. 

She caught my eye and lit up, “Deuce!”

I ran over to save her the trouble, “Hey Mom.”

“Let me get a look at you,” Mom gently grabbed my face and moved me around, “I can barely believe that’s my son.”

I pulled back and put my hand behind my neck, “I guess I’ve changed a bit since I left.”

She smiled, “You have no idea how proud I am of you.”

I flushed under her gaze, “Let’s head on home.”

She giggled, “As long as you tell me all about school.”

I gathered my bag under my arm, “Fine.”

Home was the same as it had been when I left. A small apartment with blankets piled on every chair and letters piled on the kitchen counter. I set my bag in my room and then moved to the kitchen, where Mom had begun fixing dinner.

“I’m making folded egg sandwiches,” Mom had her back turned to me, “Is that alright?”

“Yeah,” I sat down at the dining table, “So what do you want to know?”

“Everything,” Mom moved to the stove, “I haven’t heard anything from your teachers.”

“Well I’m doing okay in class, but that might just be because Trey, Riddle, and Yuu help me out.”

“Who are they?”

“Well, Trey and Riddle are in Heartslabyul with me. Trey’s the vice-housewarden and he’s like the dorm mother hen. He’s done most of the tutoring, but Riddle helps him sometimes. Riddle’s the housewarden and he’s ridiculously strict.”

“Oh really?” Mom started grating cheese, “And who’s this Yuu person?”

“Yuu is one of my-” I tried to think of the right word. Our group never calls ourselves ‘friends’, but that seems to be the only word to describe how we are. Yuu calls us “Dumbass Beasts”, but I don’t want to tell my Mom that.

“She’s one of my best friends.”

I could hear Mom’s eyebrow raise, “‘She’? Isn’t Night Raven an All Boys school?”

“That surprised me too, but Yuu’s an exception to a lot of rules,” My phone vibrated with a message, I spoke as I went to pull it up, “She doesn’t have magic, she’s only half a student, and she isn’t even from this world.”

Mom grabbed the bread from the breadbox, “I’m going to need you to explain all of that.”

“I wish I could.”

The message was from Yuu; Cater has been tagging me in his old photos for the past two hours. How did he even know I got a Magicam account? I couldn’t help but laugh. 

Mom scooped the folded eggs onto the bread, “At least explain the ‘half a student’ comment.”

“Well,” I sat my phone back on the table, “Since Yuu doesn’t have magic she and this monster named Grim share a single enrollment. But Yuu’s in charge of him since she’s the Ramshackle dorm prefect.”

“Ah,” Mom set the plate down in front of me, “Is that all your friends?”

“Nah, I’m friends with Ace too,” I got up to get something to drink, “He’s one of my roommates.”

“Ace Trappola?” Mom began making her own egg sandwich, “I think his father works at your grandfather’s company.”

I poured a glass of orange juice and made my way back to the table, “The four of us have done a lot in one semester.”

“Like what?”

“Well Ace and I challenged Riddle for his title.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” I took a sip of my juice, “Ace got in trouble for eating Riddle’s tart and then it became a huge deal. Riddle ended up overbloting.”

I swear Mom’s eyes bulged out of her head, “Overblot!?”

“Yeah. Yuu led all of us into battle to keep the other student’s safe and to keep Riddle from destroying himself. But that was only the first overblot.”

“The first?”

“Yeah don’t worry about it,” I took a large bite of my sandwich, “Yuu always has it under control. Even if she’s just directing us. It’s amazing.”

Mom sat down next to me, “Do you have a picture of your friends?”

I picked up my phone, “Not unless you count pictures Cater took while we weren’t expecting it. And then posted on Magicam with a dozen hashtags.”

“Maybe you could ask Yuu and Grim for a picture? I’d love to see them.”

“Sure,” I opened up Yuu’s message, “It’s not like they have much else to do at school.”

“At school? Did they not go somewhere for winter break?”

“They didn’t have anywhere to go.”

Mom set down her food, “Invite them to come here in spring. I’d be happy to host them.”

I chuckled, “Alright,” I texted Yuu; Hey my mom wants to see a pic of you and Grim. Mind sending one?

It took a moment for Yuu to respond; Yeah sure. Just let me get the weasel.

I set my phone down, “She’s gonna send a picture of her and Grim.” 

“How sweet,” Mom took the moment to begin eating. 

Our conversation dissolved into specific stories and the basics of our lives apart. It was weird how I felt so at home, while only feeling like a guest in the apartment. My Mom gushed and worried in waves as I talked about the Spelldrive tournament and the final exams. It was sweet to see her so happy about my actions. About who I was. I had given her a son to be proud of.

I spent the next day with my mom, meeting with other family and shopping for the holidays. But that night my phone lit up with a message from Yuu; Trapped in Scarabia, I’ll explain later. 

I was up all night, waiting for my phone to buzz again, but the only notification I got was Ace messaging me to ask if I had heard anything else from Yuu.

Eight AM came around and I chugged two cups of coffee before heading out on a walk to keep my mind off of Yuu’s vague and semi-terrifying message. 

“Hey Deuce!” I froze in my tracks, turning to see my old ‘pal’ Hatter, his lackey Coney trailing behind. 

Hatter was the leader of the delinquents I hung out with in middle school. He called me his equal until I went straight. His appearance hadn’t changed; hair bleached a platinum blonde, green eyes that constantly had a crazed look as they dashed from victim to victim, a trailing black jacket with copper buttons, and of course his iconic evergreen tophat with the price tag sticking out the brim. 

Coney matched the jacket, but he had his own brand of insane to portray. His hair was bleached to a honey blonde and his brown rabbit ears stuck out of his head with copper piercings along every furry edge. His black eyes always seemed to be watching Hatter, as if he was waiting for the signal to attack. 

“How have you been, man?” Hatter wrapped his arm around my shoulder as if we had only been apart for a week or so, “Coney here was just saying how much he missed seeing you on that blastcycle of yours. Right Coney?”

Coney nodded like his life depended on it, “Yes! Yes!”

“Look guys,” I made an effort to move out of their reach, “I’m not-”

“Aw,” Coney stopped nodding, “Are you not fun anymore?”

“What?”

“Sounds like you hit the bullseye Coney,” Hatter began messing with his brim, a signal to change their approach, “I guess you were serious about that ‘going straight’ thing.”

“I am,” I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket, “And I have to go.”

“Go?” Hatter came closer, backing me into an alleyway, “But we just reunited!”

“I’m not like you guys anymore,” my hand gripped my phone in my pocket, praying that it would buzz again, “I have friends who need me right now.”

Coney’s hand drifted towards a bright blue dumpster, “You think you're better than us?”

“No way mate,” Hatter smirked and whipped his own magic pen out, “Tea Party!” My arms went flying up, my phone and other valuables making a mad dash for Hatter’s and Coney’s open hands. Hatter caught my phone and looked at the message, “This ‘Ace’ fella is.”

My heart sank, the message wasn’t from Yuu.

Coney looked over, “Oh what’s this? You and this ‘Ace’ are talking about a girl?”

“What did he say?”

Hatter smirked, “Oh? So this ‘going straight’ thing is for the eye of some lovely lady. I’m hurt.”

“No,” I marched forward and grabbed my wallet from Coney’s hand, “I’m becoming a better person for myself. I want to be an honor’s student and I’m doing a damn good job. Yuu is just a friend.”

“Sure,” Hatter rolled his eyes, “I’ll believe that,” he changed his voice to mock mine, “‘Look at me, giving up my freedom for some stupid dream of being an honor’s student.’ No way. You’re not built for that Deuce.”

My phone buzzed in his hand.

“I used to respect you Spade,” He put my phone in the ribbon of his tophat, taunting me, “Now look at you. You’re a fucking chump.”

My phone buzzed again. Something inside of me snapped like a dry twig. I could feel my body heat from the inside out, old mussels returning to their place. I didn’t reach for my pen. I just punched the bastard.

Hatter went flying back into the wall, clearly expecting to have to taunt me longer before I took action. Coney didn’t hesitate to pounce on me, knocking me to the ground under him. He fired off punch after punch, leaving the taste of blood on my lips. I kicked him off and into Hatter, aiming to get my phone back. I had to see if it was Yuu. 

It all turned into a blurr. A barrage of fists coming from all directions. All I focused on was Hatter’s stupid tophat.

I got the phone back and backed away. No one followed me.

All of the messages were from Ace.

Yuu hasn’t explained. What does her text even mean?

Should we go back and check on her?

I’m going. I don’t know what’s happening but it sounds like trouble. Meet me at the bus stop in town in two hours if you’re joining me.

I cleaned off in a park restroom before running home to pack a duffel bag. Mom was immediately understanding and packed me a few sandwiches for Ace and me. She smiled and reminded me that Yuu was welcome to come back with me, as well as telling me to text her when I was coming back. I nodded and gave her a hug before running out the door.

The two hours were up and I met with Ace at the bus stop.

Ace was pacing, waiting for the noon bus, “Who just messages that they’ve been kidnaped and then doesn’t respond for twelve hours!? Yuu’s going to be the death of us.”

“Calm down,” I hid my own anxieties, “This is Yuu we’re talking about. If anyone can handle being ‘trapped’, it’s her. Plus, Grim should be with her.”

“You say that like that’s a good thing.”

“Fair enough,” I kept going, “But despite the fact that it’s Grim, he can still fire off spells. Plus he’s pretty good with fire magic. Maybe we’ll arrive to see Scarabia in blue flames.”

“Again, you say that like that’s a good thing.”

“It’s the best thing I can think of.”

The PA system cracked to life, “Bus to Night Raven terminal is now boarding on platform three.”

“Come on,” I grabbed my bags and began walking, “Our friend needs us.”

[chrisairgames]

Time to Play Curios: Albrecht Manor

When it's Halloween, I like to play creepy Halloweenie games. Ok, well I might like spooky games all year-round, but for the horror season it's time to pull out all stops. When I received this package in the mail last month, I knew it'd be perfect for the weekend before Halloween:

Curios: Albrecht Manor is "an epistolary horror mystery experience" by Seb Pines, the first in the new Curios series from Good Luck Press. There is no single person who runs the game. No one knows what they're about to open, other than what you see on the blurb.

The notion of the game is that the players are "Researchers" of "The Archive" who receive evidence and ephemera leftover after the appearance of supernatural phenomena. The details on the Archive is sparse, but you an unbothered dayjob vibe oozes from the tone. This manila envelope is all you're going to get, and your job is to make some declarative statements by the end of the research.

It's a fun space to play. I could see the experience of play spanning the spectrum between a total LARP and completely player-facing. For our game, we were closer to the player-facing end of that spectrum, and had a fabulous evening.

What's inside?

The Albrecht Manor manila envelope contains 11 letters and two postcards, along with a short mailing notice and the "Archive" report card. Like any good horror story, the letters start off tame with bits of weird, yet quickly start including photos, newspaper snippets, blueprints and administrative papers.

From tearing open the letters to the difference in paper textures, styles and handwritten bits were thrilling to handle. We were surprised how each piece, and sometimes innocuous details at first, came back to have us rifling back through what we'd read before.

Play Experience

With the stack of letters in the center of the table, without prior discussion, we naturally began to play by each picking up a letter/postcard, and circling, writing notes, and sharing weird details. This created a fun, anachronistic revelation of details, as sometimes one bit would go unremarked earlier would pop up in someone else's letters.

When an important detail came to the forefront of this developing narrative, I appreciated how the spotlight would pass around each of us adding more context or details or asking questions we weren't sure how to answer. But it's extremely difficult to discuss direct details without spoiling the contents of the letters. The discovery of certain documents and finding the inter-connectivity is the fun of this game.

The game comes with a single paragraph of instruction, which can seem daunting, but I was in awe of how the physical presentation made space for our own curiosity to define the bounds of how we approached the mystery. We examined photos under different types of lamplight, tried using the zoom on our smartphones as impromptu magnifying lenses, and folded paper in all sorts of ways. Most importantly, we were enraptured by this game for nearly three hours and were astonished at how fast the time passed.

We all appreciated how there is no direct, singular answer, and that we the players were the ones to define the story from our collective interpretation. It's not a good mystery, especially a ghost story mystery, if you're not left with more questions by the end.

Spoilers at the next heading!

Three specific moments literally gave me chills. I don't want to spoil those here. After the photo and line break is the report that was sent to the Archivist at curiosarchive.net. I realize now that we didn't "even "formally" discuss how we would classify the Albrecht Manor phenomena, but the classification is hinted at.

While I don't intend to spoil specific details in the letters, the submitted report has major spoilers. So if you haven't played this game, don't read any further!

Submitted Report to the Archivist

29/10/2023

Dear Archivist,

The first sentence on the first postcard, unwittingly, says it all, "the house is a dream."

This group of Archive researchers have deemed this household, built by one Damian Albrecht, to be a spiritual machine. This trap inhabits the mind of its occupants, and grows and shifts according to its creator's and past occupants' hopes and dreams of a warm household. The researchers are even hesitant to call this a haunting, but agree the house appears to be a spatio-temporal machination propelled by the spirits it is required to consume to keep operating. The fire, in this interpretation, is a convenient excuse for the house to re-enter its slumbering stasis. The researchers' consensus is that there must be only one true fire, but could not access WHEN that may be.

The researchers agreed, though without substantial evidence, the purpose of this machine is to sustain not only long life to its creator, Damian Albrecht, but also to impose HIS dream onto others, and subsume their dreams to feed his own. Again, the fire is a convenient cover-up for the displaced spirits Albrecht has trapped.

The researchers were divided on several facets, foremost questioning the actual existence of the principal figures: Alex Dunn and Anne Wilson. Could it be that Alex Dunn is in fact Albrecht? Has the persona of Alex Dunn created the character of Anne Wilson to represent the inhabitants of St. Ann? Will there be an all-consuming fire that destroys the town, and this house (and letters) are calling the community to action, as a sort of warning? Does Albrecht Manor's machinery twist and channel the powers of the Catholic Saint Ann, whose emblem is a Door, to imbue itself with supernatural power? If Alex Dunn is/was a real person, were they drawn to the house due to past trauma involving Anne and the implied kitchen fire that took place in the past? Did this oft-alluded-to fire kill Anne?

Many loose ends remain, but these Archive Researchers remain confident that the initial readings of the Albrecht Manor as deviating from the traditional haunting are correct. The "ghosts" are most likely Albrecht himself, and the temporal echoes of the Manor's past occupants. We put forth that through mechano-spiritual insights, "Damian Albrecht" built Albrecht Manor to trap people into its/his dreams of a perfect home. As a single household can never be "perfect" in his madness, the Manor and its master yearn to consume more ideals to feed this imperfect spiritual machine.

Thank you for reading, dear Archivist.

All best, Chris Air & Friends.

[cutecipher]

I can't wait to see usamerican phone companies blow up trying to one up this (tri-fold smartphone by Huawei)