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Jun. 13th, 2023

quillpunk: digital portrait sketch of an imaginary guy who might or might not (not) be me (Default)
[personal profile] quillpunk
  • Rating: T
  • Categories: M/M, Gen
  • Fandom: Hades (video Game 2018)
  • Relationship: Chaos/Hypnos
  • Characters: Hypnos, Chaos
  • Additional Tags: Ficlet, First Meetings, Pre-Slash, Pre-Relationship
  • Status: Complete
  • Wordcount: 1101
  • Published on AO3: 2021-09-17

Notes: Translation into Русский available by Lord_Naos on AO3

Disclaimer: I do not own Hades the video game or any associated trademarks.


So Hypnos got lost.

It's not actually a rare thing. In the first place, directions don't really exist in dreams. You can certainly go up and down and left and right, but do those concepts even exist in dreams? Are you sure you're remembering which way is right? Did you mark the passages? Do the passages even exist after you've passed through them?

Just because you think you're going in those directions doesn't mean you actually are. Dreams are fickle and prone to change and they don't abide by the rules of reality.

So Hypnos got lost. He's not worried about this, like he said, it's happened before. Dreams blur, and they lead him astray and that's just fine. It's a part of him, and never something that he felt inconvenienced by—he sleeps a lot of the time anyway, so no one even usually notices.

This time, like all others, was an accident. Hypnos walked too far, turned too much, and now here he is. Lost. Alone. In another dimension altogether, it seems. One very dark, and disorienting. And he can't quite place the smell, but it's certainly very overwhelming in an absence of all other smells kind of way.

"Hello," Hypnos calls out into the darkness he's now found himself in. He scrunches up his nose as he looks around, trying to force the realm into some kind of up and down, side to side directions thing. It's not going very well; the place clearly doesn't want them. He's not entirely certain he isn't standing upside down, but equally uncertain he's not walking backward, but with his feet stepping forwards. It's all very odd.

"I'm sorry for intruding," he adds, because it's never a mistake to be polite. Tilting his head back as far as it goes, he tries to see something. So far it's all been very structureless, very free-flowing. Which isn't bad! It just means that Hypnos can't quite tell if he's moved at all since he entered here. Because he's alone, and he hasn't been sleeping well lately (due to a certain prince on a certain self-imposed mission) he babbles into the void around him, "I got lost, you see, and this is a very confusing place. You should really consider putting up a few signs for directions!"

He waits. There isn't a response, which isn't automatically a bad thing. No response means that his babbling didn't get a negative reaction either—which it sometimes does, sometimes to some not very nice effects—so Hypnos does not yet feel like he's overstayed his welcome. He does that sometimes, he knows, but he's really only been here for a few minutes. Or weeks, he can't tell. Regardless, it's not yet to the point where he feels unwelcome.

He keeps walking. There's not precisely a lot more he can do in this situation. He's been sleep-deprived lately so he's not about to wake up unless he really needs to, and though a god he may be, he's not a god of directions.

So aimless walking it is.

Hypnos whistles as he goes, a jaunty tune that he composed himself. It keeps his spirit up while the surroundings are so drab and dark, and he keeps his eyes aimed ahead. And sure, he has no idea where he's going or if he's going anywhere at all, but it's altogether not a bad trip. Nothing's tried to murder him yet, no traps have been strung, the smell is nice, the darkness is easy on his eyes.

The change when he comes upon a structure is not a change at all. In fact, the structure has always been there, Hypnos just hasn't been able to perceive it. Or that's what it feels like. It's a very strange place to try to prescribe logic to, this realm, and Hypnos is kind of getting sick of trying. It's clearly not doing a lot of good.

But the structure is nice! There's unfortunately no bed, and it all seems to be solid rock when he steps foot on it, but beggars can't be choosers.

Hypnos walks further onto the stone platform and says, "My name is Hypnos." He waits a moment but there's no answer. Pushing up his eye cover, he hums. "Can I presume I am in the presence of Grandparent Chaos?"

"Son of Nyx," the overpowering, overwhelming, discordant voice coming from all directions says. "You are lost," it remarks with no particular emotion.

Hypnos spins around, trying to get a glimpse of his elusive grandparent; the one he's not allowed to speak of, the one no one has been in contact with in ages. There is no hint to be seen though, so he pouts and crosses his arms, floating up higher. "I am lost," he admits. It's a virtue to be able to acknowledge your flaws, he thinks. It's certainly something a few people in his life could do more of.

"You did not mean to come here," Chaos says, the voice somehow containing multiple layers of sound.

Hypnos nods. "Nope! But it's a very cool place you've got here, I don't regret visiting. Very consistent decorating!"

The darkness compresses and then relaxes. The visage of Chaos steps out of the dark, the bottom half of their body still hidden—or maybe dissolved? To be fair, nobody has actually told him how Chaos' existence works, much less described how they look. All Hypnos really knows is that they created the universe and then retreated to a realm of their own; this realm, probably. That Hypnos accidentally intruded upon. ...Oops?

"I do not fault those who are lost," says Chaos. They come closer, their large visage easily twice the size of Hypnos. Hypnos gulps somewhat, hiding it behind a hand. Like this, with their presence looming over Hypnos, it really does make something squeeze low in his belly.

Valiantly ignoring it, Hypnos waves his other hand, "Gosh, if I didn't know better, I'd think you're happy to see me!"

"I am always happy to see my creations, even the one I did not directly make," Chaos responds, and really, that's just too cruel. Pretty words like will make his stomach flutter and his chest warm. Hypnos nearly feels like swooning and then does so just to be dramatic. Chaos doesn't scold him for being unprofessional, or taking things too easy, or being overdramatic. The ancient being, the very first existence that shaped the universe itself, merely looks at him.

And Hypnos feels almost fuzzy with the attention. So he grins, and he keeps talking, and the dream goes on. And Chaos listens.

quillpunk: screenshot of adam's face in full costume from SK8 (adam)
[personal profile] quillpunk
  • Rating: T
  • Categories: M/M, Gen
  • Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
  • Relationship: Draco Malfoy/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
  • Characters: Draco Malfoy, Tom Riddle | Voldemort
  • Additional Tags: Ficlet, First Meetings, Pre-Slash, Pre-Relationship, Pirates
  • Status: Complete
  • Wordcount: 1200
  • Published on AO3: 2021-08-26

Notes: KuZu Week 2021: Day 5 - Pirates

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: the Last Airbender or any associated trademarks.


Here, something in the air seems to say. Look over here. And Kuei is but a man—a starving man most of these days—and he is not infallible. Sometimes he bends to the whispers on the wind, throws his hands out to catch the flutter of fate's wings. Sometimes he turns, and he holds his hand above his eyes as he squints into the wind. Sometimes he stops on his path, turns away from the road he'd been walking, and changes directions.

Sometimes, Kuei breaks from his self-imposed promise to stay away from the big Earth Kingdom cities, the ones where someone high enough up the ladder might be able to recognize him.

Nobody has so far.

It's a slightly smaller city this time, but still big. It's surrounded by high walls, as most Earth cities are. Kuei has to stand in line for nearly half an hour to get in, showing his pass to the guard at the gate. After the wait, and the hours he's spent on his feet to get here, he heads right for the closest inn when he's inside. He hands the small bits of money he still has to the innkeeper and throws his meager possessions on the bed. Sighing, he heads to the bathroom to wash his face.

He doesn't know what he's doing here. There is nothing for him here; nothing but a golden cage should he be recognized. Long Feng is smart—he would never make the same mistake twice. And it still took years for Kuei to figure out a way to escape, years for his plan to come to fruition. If he's caught... he doesn't think he'll be able to get out again.

But the Avatar has returned to the world and Kuei dare not ignore whispers on the wind. And so he rents a room for a full week. And so he unpacks his things and stays.

A day later, a ship sails into port. There is nothing remarkable about it, except for how utterly unremarkable it is. There is a worn-down flag flying high on the mast, a crew of average-looking but strong men anchoring the ship in the harbor. Nobody reacts to the ship; nobody swerves around it, tries to avoid or ignore it. Some people greet the shipmates and some others arrange accommodations for the crew. It's all perfectly normal stuff, if one ignores the fact that the Dragon of the West just stepped ashore.

Kuei has only seen drawings of him, but it's unmistakably the same man. This is Iroh, the older brother of the Fire Lord. This is Iroh, the man who nearly succeeded in conquering Kuei's home. This is Iroh, the man who smiles and laughs and throws his arm around a beautiful young man's shoulders.

This is Iroh, an omen of disaster.

Kuei swallows his tea and slouches a little further in his chair. He's lucky that the teashop's owner doesn't mind him sitting here for hours, taking advantage of the plentiful light to read scrolls he's picked up here and there. The inn doesn't have light like this and he lost his glasses a while back—they made him too recognizable. But it means he's left squinting down at the pages, his head only a few centimeters from it as he tries to decipher the words.

He's so busy squinting, in fact, that he misses the new people entering. Instead, Kuei thanks the old man for refilling his tea and shoves his nose closer to the page. The smell of dried ink and old paper meets him. It is not until his chair is knocked into and a sword hits his table that he jerks back and—is face-to-face with a young man.

A very pretty young man.

And—Kuei is weak. He was weak as a king and he is weak as a wandering scholar. (There is something flawed within him, something that bends instead of straightens.)

The man's long, shining black hair is swept up into a high tail, his left eye covered by a black eyepatch, the skin around it badly burnt. Gold earrings dangle from both ears, matching the gold of his uncovered eye. He's glaring, his eye looking past Kuei's shoulder at a simpering old woman.

Kuei gulps. He raises his hands and scoots his chair until it bangs against the wall. The pretty man clicks his tongue and moves past him.

"Do you think," pretty man hisses, his voice low and dark, dripping promises of wicked things. Kuei gulps again, his fingers clenching on the scroll. The pretty man continues, "that we'll let you walk all over us?"

The woman's eyes narrow and she squares her shoulders. "I'm your client," she says and Kuei's gaze shoots back to the man with the sword.

The sword is raised, pointing straight at the woman. He sneers, "Our clients pay us."

She stares. The sword doesn't waver. Her eyes glance at Kuei. Pretty man doesn't so much as twitch. Finally, she gathers herself up and glares at the man. "Fine," she bites out. Huffing, she leaves the teashop with heavy steps.

Kuei waits a minute, his eyes stuck on that sword, but finally, the man moves again.

"Sorry, uncle," pretty man says to someone behind Kuei and Kuei turns his head. Glances back over his shoulder. And sees Iroh—the Dragon of the West—smile cheerfully.

Kuei freezes.

"Not to worry, nephew," Iroh says kindly, eyes twinkling like he isn't a murderer.

The nephew, the pretty man, prince Zuko, puts away his sword and walks around Kuei's table to flop down on a chair next to Iroh. He spots Kuei; his eye narrows and he spits out, "What?"

Kuei startles. "I—" he looks around, trying to think of something inoffensive and innocuous to say. His mind draws a blank. "You're very pretty," is what comes out. Kuei should just throw himself into the ocean.

Zuko's mouth snaps shut. Iroh's eyes twinkle; the deadly old man laughing and patting his nephew's shoulder. Kuei's shoulders draw up and he slides deeper into the chair, his scroll making a loud crinkling role from his abuse of it. Zuko's staring right at him, his eye wide, and he's—so pretty. Kuei is weak, and stupid and this is why he's not a good king. This is why he can't protect his country. Because when met with a pretty face and a pretty body and pretty eyes and even pretty hair (how can hair be pretty???) he's lost. There is no battle to be won when one side never reaches the battlefield.

"I'm gonna go get our luggage settled," Iroh says to his nephew, his voice full of mirth. "Why don't you get to know this scholarly gentleman in the meanwhile?"

Zuko eyes his uncle distrustfully, but says, "Don't take too long," thus giving indirect confirmation.

Kuei gulps.

Iroh leaves with a jaunty wave and a cheerful tune, and Kuei watches as Zuko turns to him and frowns. Licking his lips, Kuei attempts to smile. Zuko's earrings move again, his gold eye staring at him with suspicion, and the hair slides over another shoulder and—Kuei is so, so lost.

quillpunk: screenshot of langa from SK8, with a very weirded out expression (langa6)
[personal profile] quillpunk
  • Rating: T
  • Categories: M/M
  • Fandom: Avatar: the Last Airbender
  • Relationship: Zuko/Kuei
  • Characters: Zuko, Kuei
  • Additional Tags: Ficlet, First Meetings, Pre-Slash, Pre-Relationship
  • Status: Complete
  • Wordcount: 1047
  • Published on AO3: 2021-08-17

Notes: For KuZu Week 2021: Day 2 - Horror

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: the Last Airbender or any associated trademarks.


Overwhelming.

That was the only way to describe the presence blanketing all of Zuko's senses. Overwhelming. Overpowering. Drowning him in sensations and feelings that weren't even his. It beat up against his heart, pounding in a rhythm that he could almost convince himself was his own. It drifted through his veins, seeking out his every organ and nestling in it like a parasite looking for a place to make a home. Over and over again, the feeling surrounded him.

"Are you okay?" Kuei asked, his voice anxious as a mouth formed in the shadow beside his head. The mouth on his face hadn't moved.

Zuko took a deep breath and let his fire move through him, burning the shadows to a crisp. Kuei shuddered, his mouths snapping closed. Zuko said, "I'm fine," and he even meant it.

Sure, it was strange that instead of getting killed for breaking into the Earth King's palace and finding that the Earth King was some kind of spirit, he was dragged to the library and spent a couple of pleasant hours studying about the Avatar. But it hadn't done him any harm, and this was his fifth visit to the palace. Sometimes he wondered why Kuei kept welcoming him back, beaming at him every time he appeared, but he also didn't want to change it.

It was nice, reading in the library.

Even though Kuei was a literal monster that had eaten Long Feng when the man attempted to brainwash Zuko, it was still nice.

Eyes blinked at Zuko from the corners of the library, staring at him from every possible angle. Zuko was used to this by now, and so he merely waved at them. The eyes widened and the internal light coming from them shone brighter. At least with eyes that bright, one barely needed lamps to read.

"Good, good," Kuei bobbed his head and it fell off his neck, tumbling to the floor as Kuei's arms flailed in the air, trying to catch it and failing epically. The monster in human skin—literally—cursed softly and picked up the head, a new one already forming on his neck. The old one crumbled into dust, falling apart in Kuei's hands. Zuko winced a little, not quite used to that yet.

Kuei stared at his empty hands for a minute, frowning, before he snapped his new head around to look at Zuko. He blinked, then grinned. "I'm glad you came back," he said, walking over to sit next to Zuko on the floor. Zuko pointed to the cushion before Kuei sat on the stone floor again, and Kuei immediately changed tracks to sit on it.

"I told you I would," Zuko frowned.

Kuei nodded, his head staying on this time. "Yes, but... a lot of people say they'll come back." Unspoken went but no-one ever does.

A mouth bit down on Zuko's swords, and he irritably slapped it away. Kuei didn't react—Zuko was half-convinced that he barely knew what his own body parts were doing. Evey stared at him from shadows, mouth forming out of them to whisper words he couldn't understand in a language he didn't know. The darkness around them soared, hiding them away between shelves and scrolls and old memories of lives long-since forgotten.

Zuko breathed in the scent of ink and paper that always seemed to linger around Kuei. The air around the man twisted, reality seamlessly bending to Kuei's will. A table made of shadows popped into existence in front of them, and Kuei gestured to it. Zuko, already knowing what the man wanted, placed his scroll on it so he could read easier.

Kuei scooted closer with every passing minute until he was sitting with his side touching Zuko's. Zuko didn't move, didn't twitch away from the cold or the sudden knowledge that he was buried fifteen meters underground and was slowly suffocating to death. Instead he stayed still, allowing his fire to burn brighter, hotter, until smoke was leaving his lips in time with his breaths.

"How is your uncle?" asked Kuei, sometime later.

Zuko took a moment to register that he was being spoken to, and then another moment to recognize what had been said. He looked up from his scroll and to Kuei—dispropriate body and all. "Yes," he said, "He's enjoying his new teashop."

Kuei smiled at him, his thousand eyes glittering with joy. The mass of existence that was probably supposed to be Kuei ended below his chest now, fusing into the shadows surrounding them. A void existed there instead, a lack of existence that made Zuko's head hurt. He forced his eyes away, rubbing them slightly to stop the spots of darkness from eating up his vision.

"I'm glad," said Kuei.

Zuko smiled at him, his smoke smelling like burned charcoal.

There was no-one else near them. The area around the library was always abandoned when Zuko came to visit, always left to rot on its own. And it was rotting, he was sure. The scrolls and books and bookshelves were losing form, bleeding shadows and ink staining the floor. Dark plants ate their way into the foundation of the stone, shadows settling into the cracks like spiders. The darkness ate up all light, every candle useless in here. Zuko's firebending was the only reason that he could read in here at all.

He allowed the shadows to embrace him, allowed them to hug him until he looked as black as any other shadow in here. When he looked at his own hand, he could scarcely see it. Ignoirng the unconscious beat of instinctive fear that nearly swallowed him whole.

Kuei's hand curled around his, their fingers slotting naturally together. The fear eased back into something more manageable—Zuko had always been very good at ignoring his instincts. At ignoring the voice in his head telling him that he was making a mistake, insisting he would regret it. It was easy enough to push those voices aside now, too, easy enough to curl into Kuei's darkness and let his fire breathe freely through them. Easy enough to smile, and turn and trust that Kuei wouldn't hurt him.

Zuko had made a lot of mistakes in his life, but he didn't think that this was one of them.

quillpunk: screenshot of Aaravos (who is smirking in full evil mode) from The Dragon Prince cartoon (aaravos1)
[personal profile] quillpunk
  • Rating: T
  • Categories: M/M
  • Fandom: Avatar: the Last Airbender
  • Relationship: Zuko/Kuei
  • Characters: Zuko, Kuei
  • Additional Tags: Ficlet, First Meetings, Pre-Slash, Pre-Relationship, AU - Fairy Tale
  • Status: Complete
  • Wordcount: 3008
  • Published on AO3: 2021-08-16

Notes: For KuZu Week 2021: Day 2 - Horror

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: the Last Airbender or any associated trademarks.


There is a monster in a palace, and no one ever goes there.

Zuko hears about it for the first time when he's in the upper ring after his uncle's teashop has just been opened. The customers—dressed far more extravagantly than those in the lower rings—mill between the tables, gossiping loudly about whatever stupid things they can. There is no silence here; only the incessant talk of sharp tongues judging far more than they have a right to. They talk and they laugh and they point and they forget entirely about Zuko's existence, speaking as if he is not there. It makes his blood boil, makes his fists clench.

But it also lets him hear far more inside knowledge of Ba Sing Se than he has since they arrived in this accursed city. Like the story of the monster.

They say there is a monster in the palace, and no one ever goes there.

Zuko's blood is boiling, his expression thinning and his eyes darkening the more stupid things he hears. He doesn't believe them—why would there be a monster in the Earth King's palace? Such a thing would never be allowed to stand. If his father knew even he would do something about it because it undermines his authority. If he learned that the city the Fire Nation has repeatedly failed to conquer has a monster walking its palace halls, he would be enraged.

But they keep talking about it, whispering about it under breaths too loud. Over and over again, from a dozen different people, he hears the tale. The tale of how the monster was cursed for his arrogance, for his folly, for his ignorance. The monster is cursed, they say, and so can not leave the palace.

This means the only way for Zuko to find out the truth is for him to go there. Go to the palace and see for himself.

(It can't be true, but. But it doesn't hurt to check.)

Going in the middle of the night is the obvious choice. Sneaking away from his uncle is both harder and easier than anticipated; he goes when the older man is sleeping and is terrified with every snore he hears that he'll awaken and see what Zuko is doing. But he just wants to know. There is no monster in the palace, there can not possibly be. But nobody speaks of the Earth King, and he wonders.

Something is wrong with this city, he knows. Ba Sing Se is a sinkhole of miasma, a trap that locks you in and won't ever let you go. Zuko has seen shadows leaping over rooftops, had customers mysteriously vanish and no one ever speaks of it. There is something wrong, and he thinks... the palace might hold some answers.

So he breaks in.

It's actually not that hard? Zuko has broken into harder places, has barely gotten away with his life on some occasions. Compared to those times, the Earth King's palace is a cakewalk. And once he's in, he simply follows the hallways.

They're long, these hallways. Wide, too, with high ceilings and murals on the walls. Zuko is almost tempted to stop to get a good look but he doesn't want to be here another second longer than he has to. He's simply going to find this monster, and he knows the best place of the palace to check is the middle.

The middle, where the floors are covered by dust, where the drapes have been consumed by spiderwebs.

Zuko walks on eggshells, his body wound tighter the further he goes. His mouth dries, seeing the claw-marks on the floor, the walls, the windows. Licking his lips does nothing, his flame burning hot inside him. The marks are too high, too low, too wide and inconsistent in size. Like whatever made them was playing, almost. The spiderwebs are old and deep, poison dripping from them and acid eating into the floor below. The dust is suffocating; unending, squeezing its way into his nostrils and attemtping to strangle him.

He pinches his nose shut to hold off a sneeze. Shaking his head slilgthly, he sheathes his sword and climbs a pillar to get to higher ground.

There can't possibly be a monster in the palace, but an animal is not unreasonable. Although, why an animal would be allowed to run free in here to the extent they'd even cut off all normal accesses to this part of the palace... this, he can't know. So higher ground it is.

After much trawling through the spiderwebs and dust, thoroughly ruining his uniform, Zuko finally reaches an end to his journey.

There is light up ahead, just a weak, splintering thing flickering weakly in the wind. Zuko stops on the beam he's sitting on, gazing down to the door only partly cracked open and the light beyond it. He strains his hearing, but is only met by silence.

He hasn't seen a single person since he reached this part of the palace. Hasn't had to hide from Dai Li agents, hasn't had to avoid the gazes of the servants. There is only the nearly unnoticable sound of his own footsteps, the sound of his own breathing, joining him here. He is alone. But there is a light up ahead that he can see flicker and there is door not even fully shut, and there are animal tracks in the dust leading to it.

Tracks he doesn't recognize, but that are unedniably non-human. Something is in there. Something that can make light. And Zuko is a fool of the highest order, a fool who feels curiosity stir in his gut instead of trepidation.

There is something in there.

He drops to the floor, his feet striking it silently. For a second he waits, his brow furrowed as he listens for a reaction to his presence. There is none. And so he recalls all his training in walking without making a sound as he approaches the door, keeping his breathing light and steady. At the door, he gently curls his fingers around the door's edge and holds his breath. Nothing happens. He pushes at the door, frowning and lying his weight on it when it refuses to budge.

Finally, the door opens enough for him to slip through. He exhales softly and creeps through, his eyes immediately gluing themselves to the candlelight. It's a single candle on a table by the wall, a wick steadily burning down. It flickers from the gust of wind moving the door produces and he winces.

He eyes the rest of the room. It's a bedroom, he quickly realizes. The bed in the middle of the room is comically wide; green curtains covering it entirely. He can't see if there's someone inside, but the tracks lead right to it.

There is less dust on the floor in here, but the spiderwebs are in every corner still. Zuko walks up to the candle and studies it for a moment, but can't find anything strange with it. It's an ordinary candle, the common design that Ba Sing Se favors. The walls are covered by a layer of dust and grime so thick that he can't make out the pattern it, but he vaguely makes out the gold color buried beneath it. All the furniture is big and stately, the chairs uncommonly wide.

Zuko turns to the bed.

It's stupid. His uncle would never approve. His sister would laugh at him. His father would—not do anything good. But Zuko got this far and he wonders.

(There is a monster in the palace, they say, and no-one ever goes there.)

Zuko's fingers grip the curtains, and he shivers at how cold they are. His eyes narrow, his tongue licking his lips. He inhales sharply and—pulls the curtain back.

"Oh," he breathes, his hands falling to his sides. "How—" he mutters to himself, taking a step closer. His knees hit the bed's edge with a soft thud and he climbs on, crawling up until he's sitting on a threadbare pillow next to the monster's head.

Sitting still with his hands digging into the meat of his thighs, he stares at it. In silence, the seconds ticking on like a clock in his head. The monster breathes softly, splayed out widely on the bed with its large limbs thrown in every conceivable direction. The head alone must be twice the size of Zuko's, and the rest of the monster is likewise bigger than him.

It explains the bed's size, at least.

The dark fur is thick and covers every inch of it. The light in the bed is weak and the candle does no good where it is and this is a monster anyway. And Zuko wants to be able to see it properly but he fears walking away will reveal this all to be a dream. And this is a monster. No-one will believe it if it tries to rat him out.

A spark lights up right above his palm; a small light still casting a much better view than the candlelight. It doesn't flicker, because something small as this is something he could do in his sleep.

He holds the light up to the monster's face, leaning over it to get a better view. Like this, he can see the gigantic eyes and the eyelids with its thin fuzz of fur covering them. Can see the monster's chest move in time with its breaths. When he counts them he frowns—they're too slow. A normal human breathes twice as fast as that, even when they're just sleeping. With every widening, he scoots even closer, holding the light up above the monster to see better.

Despite everything, the monster looks humanoid. It has two limbs resembling arms—there's even an elbow joint. Two legs with flat feet and ten toes in total, the normal five fingers on each hand. The tusks in its mouth are a little unsettling, yes, but Zuko has seen a lot of things in his life. He's not going to flinch at just this.

For a couple of minutes more, all he does is study the monster. It twitches occasionally, turning over and switching positions but it's easy enough to get out of its way. He watches sedately as it moves, watches it burrow deeper under ratty covers in search of warmth. Its breaths are like tiny growls, the sound reverbating through its chest cavity. Zuko stares, his eyes wide and unable to switch directions.

It feels like a dream.

All of this. The spiderwebs, the dust, the clawmarks matching the sharp claws this monster has on its feet and hands. The dig into the sheets as he watches, tearing holes that are only a few among many. The candlelight that lured him here, the whispering of the public as they gossip of things they have too much knowledge of. The wind beating through the long, lonely corrdors, the shadows seeping in through the cracks in the paint. It is a dream, Zuko thinks. It doesn't match everything else he knows about the Earth Kingdom, about Ba Sing Se, and so it cannot be real. Something like this can not be real.

It puffs out a breath and Zuko follows. He sits back on his hunches and curl in on himself, the light easing into something weaker. Something that'll attract less attention if somebody were to happen to come by. And just for safety's sake, he pulls the curtains shut around the bed like they were when he arrived.

Like this, it's like they're in a bubble, a world of their own.

Zuko gulps, the sound loud in the silence.

He pulls his hand (and his fire) back from the monster. Instead, he crosses his legs and wonders what time it is. Wonders if uncle has discovered that Zuko's missing yet. Wonders if the guards have found the entrance he used. Wonders if the Dai Li has seen his tracks in the dust.

Wonders.

The monster turns over again, facing Zuko this time. Zuko only looks at it, his heart beating too fast for him to process anything.

There is a monster in the palace, they say. And no-one ever goes there.

The monster's eyes blink open. Zuko can't read its face, but it stares at him with constantly widening eyes. (The eyes, too, are at least twice as big as Zuko's.) "Who?" a hoarse voice croaks, the sound half-a-growl.

"Zuko," he answers, waiting for the monster to attack him. Zuko can beat it, he knows. He's faught the Avatar, he's not going to get beaten by some monster in Ba Sing Se of all places. That's not how he'll die.

The monster shoots up, looming over him. "You're Zuko? I'm Kuei!" Then the eyelids lower and it peeks at him with a disturbingly human gaze. "But what are you doing here? People aren't allowed here."

"I broke in," Zuko confesses.

The monster gasps and leans away from him, the clawed hands coming up between them like preparing for a fight. Zuko eyes the claws, his hand slowly inching toward his sword's sheathe. He's not going to die here, in Ba Sing Se. Not going to allow himself to die on foreign soil, still unwelcome at his home. No, Zuko is going home. Uncle might be content to waste away here, but Zuko isn't going to be forgotten in another country, abandoned by his own nation.

He's going home.

"They say there is a monster in the palace," Zuko says, glaring at the monster with narrowed eyes. The monster rears back, as if struck. Zuko contiunes, "Are you the monster they speak of?"

Kuei (the monster who sleeps alone in an abandoned wing, who walks through the halls with claws leaving tracks on the wall; the only proof of its existence) swallows audibly. "I do not know of what they speak," it points out, strangely reasonable for an inhuman monster.

"A monster is in the palace," Zuko repeats. He leans forward, glaring at the beast. "A monster that should not be here, that doesn't belong. A monster who no-one ever wants to see. Are you that monster?"

Kuei licks his lips, his long tongue catching on his tusks. "No," he breathes, lowering his gaze to the linnen. "That's not me."

Zuko nods. He pulls his sword out of its sheathe and holds it out. (He's not going to die here. Not going to be trapped in the fog Ba Sing Se is buried in, not going to be caught and lead to his uncle's (his only family now) death. He won't allow it.

There is a monster in the palace, they say.

And no-one ever goes there.)

"Let's find a beast," Zuko says and presses the sword into Kuei's hand.

Kuei's fingers slowly clsoe around it and he looks at Zuko with soft, soft eyes. Eyes that are watering, and it sniffles and turns away and brushes its hand over the eyes. "Why?" it asks, the voice gentle.

Zuko thinks of his father, thinks of the palace he was cast out of, thinks of the pain he's caused his uncle. Thinks of the damage he's brought to everyone he's ever loved, and the damage everyone who's ever loved him has caused him. Thinks of his father's hand burning him, and no-one stopping it. Thinks of the look in his uncle's eyes when Zuko asked, shortly after they set out to sea, why Iroh didn't help him earlier.

Before all this.

Thinks, and doesn't say.

"Some monsters don't leave tracks of clawmarks," he says instead. Zuko's hand swings by his face and he fingers his now short hair. He's gotten used to it, he supposes. (But that just makes it worse.) Zuko wets his lips and continues, ignoring Kuei's intense gaze on him, "Some monsters are too high to reach, and so you must drag them down to you in order to kill them."

Kuei closes its eyes. Zuko turns away, not wanting to upset it. He just gave it one of his swords, after all. And while he can fight just fine with only one sword, he doesn't want to risk making too much of a commotion. What if the Dai Li hears? What if they come running and find Zuko at the heart of the Earth King's palace? What if they see and they realize and they catch him? No, he can't risk that.

"Long Feng..." Kuei starts, voice breaking in the middle. It takes a deep breath and visibly forces out, "Long Feng won't let me out."

Zuko smirks, trying to channel Azula. "I got in, didn't I?" he points out, gazing back at the monster. The monster who startles, who jumps, who squints at him and stares at him. There were only animal marks on the way here, Zuko remembers. No hint of any human presence.

How long...

"Okay," Kuei says. It takes the sword out of the sheathe, just a tiny bit, and stares with unblinking eyes at the shinig metal. It swallows and says in a heavy voice, barely more than a mumble, "I am Kuei, King of the Earth Kingdom. And I will slay a monster evil. I will set my kingdom free."

Zuko doesn't say anything. He merely pulls his other sword out and twirls it through the air while he waits for Kuei to get his emotions under control. For Kuei to lead him out of here.

He doesn't remember much about Kuei, even though he knows he learned about him as a child. It was part of his duty, to know the rulers of the enemy nation. So he was taught about Kuei and his early rise to the throne after his parents' unfortunate deaths. But it was so long ago, and Kuei hasn't been relevant in years. The knowledge sits heavy in his stomach now, the reason why. His hand clench around his sword and he frowns, a glare in his eyes.

There is a monster in the palace.

quillpunk: screenshot of Judith (she's blushing to a flowering, rosy background) from the webcomic The Villainess Flips the Script (judith2)
[personal profile] quillpunk
  • Rating: T
  • Categories: M/M
  • Fandom: Avatar: the Last Airbender
  • Relationship: Zuko/Kuei
  • Characters: Zuko, Kuei
  • Additional Tags: Ficlet, Sugar Daddy Kuei, Established Relationship
  • Status: Complete
  • Wordcount: 554
  • Published on AO3: 2021-06-18

Notes: For Monthly KuZu Mini-Prompts, 2021: May - Sugar Daddy

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: the Last Airbender or any associated trademarks.


Zuko squirms below Kuei's gaze. His eyes are trapped by the gift in his hands and Kuei forces down the urge to squirm as well. They're in his office, waiting for his advisors to arrive so they can finish planing their tactic for the upcoming diplomatic visit with the Fire Nation. But the advisors aren't here yet and they've been so busy lately, running to and fro. It seems like every time they turn around, there's a new problem to be dealt with.

Not right now, though.

Right now, it's quiet.

"You didn't have to," Zuko says, his gold eyes still not moving from the gift-wrapped package in his hands.

Kuei shakes his head, "It's a trinket, not a hardship. Please accept it, Zuko."

Wetting his lips, Zuko looks up. He's already wearing lots of Kuei's "trinkets", bracelets, necklaces, earrings... not to mention his clothes. But Kuei had nothing to do with the clothes, that was the advisors' unified decision! They thought it'd look better if Zuko incorporated some of the more Earth Kingdom fashions into his clothing, just so that it would be clear where his loyalty stood.

Kuei has never doubted it. Not since he first met Zuko in that teashop, flitting from table to table like a beautiful butterfly—a deadly one. But still absolutely breathtaking, perhaps even more so because of it.

Zuko opens the gift. The red wrapping is uneven and odd; Kuei isn't used to doing it. But he wanted to give his beloved a proper gift before they're swept up in formalities and bureaucracy and such things will be inadvisable. More important things require their attention. (Kuei can't fathom how anything could be more important than making Zuko happy, and trinkets like these, no matter how useless they are, always seem to at least make him happier.)

He keeps his hands steady on his lap as he waits for Zuko's reaction. It doesn't take long; it starts with a small widening of the eyes. Then he licks his lips again. He tilts his head to the side, his long hair falling over his shoulder and Kuei's eyes are inevitably drawn to the myriad of earrings decorating both of Zuko's ears. Long ones that almost reach his shoulders, short ones that are mere bulbs. All of them are gold. All of them draw Kuei's gaze once more to Zuko's expressive eyes.

"Where did you..." Zuko looks up at Kuei, his eyes brightening bit by bit.

Kuei shrugs. "A swordsmith to the south," he says, unable to continue meeting those eyes. They are too much; too bright and bold and alive and happy. They make his stomach do flips, make him unable to breathe.

How can anyone look at Zuko and not lose their breath?

Zuko smiles, softly, gently, and it's like the sunlight on a clear day, the sun roaming free of the clouds. Kuei leans forward before he can think, just wants to sit here and bask in that light. Zuko, who is kind and beautiful and the greatest person to have ever lived, simply leans forward the tiny bit of distance between them—perched as he is on Kuei's desk—and presses his mouth gently to Kuei's own. It's a caress, a soft motion that is too quick to truly feel.

Kuei's heart skips a beat.

quillpunk: literally nothing. something went wrong and now it's literally nothing. (thingy)
[personal profile] quillpunk
  • Rating: T
  • Categories: M/M
  • Fandom: Avatar: the Last Airbender
  • Relationship: Zuko/Kuei
  • Characters: Zuko, Kuei
  • Additional Tags: Ficlet, Dragons
  • Status: Complete
  • Wordcount: 555
  • Published on AO3: 2021-05-19

Notes: For Monthly KuZu Mini-Prompts

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: the Last Airbender or any associated trademarks.


The dragon is made of gold. Or no, Kuei realizes a breathless moment later. It's gold, the color shining in the evening sunlight, but it's not made of it. It sparkles too much, the light catching the scales and bouncing off, but it only looks to be made of gold. It is, though, an actual flesh and bone dragon. And it's right outside his window.

Kuei licks his lips. "Hello," he offers, his voice sounding weak and trembling even to his own ears.

The dragon snorts, smoke coming from its large nostrils. Kuei never thought he'd ever see nostrils so big, but they're unexpectedly beautiful. "Hello," the dragon answers in a deep rumbling voice and Keui sits up straighter on the windowsill, delight coursing through him.

It's a dragon! How can he not be mesmerized?

"I'm Kuei," he says, leaning his head forward to see more of the dragon. The window is too small, and it limits his sight too much.

He's not entirely certain how he came to be in a room with a dragon—he was having dinner with Long Feng, and that's where his memory stops. But Long Feng must have been the one to bring him here; the Dai Li wouldn't let anything happen to him. So surely, the dragon is a good person. Otherwise, Long Feng wouldn't have left him here.

After a moment, the dragon shakes his head and says, "I'm Zuko."

Kuei beams, sunlight unfurling in his stomach. "It's very nice to meet you, Zuko! I hope you don't think me rude, but were you here when I was brought here? And do you happen to know if any of my scrolls made the journey with me? For that matter, do you know where we are?"

A lazy eye blinks at him, the skin around it burned. Kuei wonders what can possibly burn hot enough to cause that kind of damage in a dragon, but he knows enough of the Fire Nation's dragon purges to know he shouldn't ask. It's probably a painful subject, and he doesn't want to scare off his new friend. Kuei has so little of them; they always vanish eventually, no matter how tightly he tries to hold on.

"I was here," Zuko the dragon finally says. Smoke curls from its mouth as it speaks, the voice nearly burning in its roughness. "A cart made the journey with you, I know not of any scrolls. And I do not know where we are."

"Thank you," Kuei says. He switches position so that he sits with his legs crossed and facing the dragon. It's a shame the sun is setting, it means that he can't see the entirety of the gloriousness in front of him.

The dragon is big. Not as big as he's read they can grow, but still undeniably a giant. It keeps him from seeing the view and trying to determine his location by landmarks, but he doesn't much care about that anyway. How could he, when there's an actual, live dragon right in front of him. In the light of that, it doesn't much matter that he made no plans to come here, doesn't know where he is, or where Long Feng went.

Those are questions that can be answered later. Right now, he just wants to know more about Zuko.

quillpunk: screenshot of langa from SK8, with a joyful expression (langa7)
[personal profile] quillpunk
  • Rating: T
  • Categories: M/M
  • Fandom: Classroom of the Elite (Light Novel/Anime)
  • Relationship: Ayanokouji Kiyotaka/Ryuuen Kakeru
  • Characters: Ayanokouji Kiyotaka, Ryuuen Kakeru
  • Additional Tags: Time Loop, Pre-Slash, Developing Relationship, Early in Canon
  • Status: Complete
  • Wordcount: 7221
  • Published on AO3: 2021-04-22

Notes: IT'S NOT 10K, SCREW YOU, BRAIN, I WON

Disclaimer: I do not own Classroom of the Elite or any associated trademarks.


Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

Or, well, it would be. If things were normal, that would be the end of the story. But he dies and—wakes up.

Shakes himself awake, really. Like falling in your dreams, waking up when you hit the ground. He's dying, dying, dead. And now he's awake, alive and well. When he pats himself down, there's not a wound on him; not a hint of the damage caused by a piano falling on top of him. Crushing him to death.

He doesn't think it's normal, to get crushed by a piano and wake up whole and well. It seems like something people would talk about, if it were. Like "Oh yeah, make sure you don't get hit by a piano, it's a pain to get covered by insurance" or something. Surely, that kind thing would be a known issue to avoid. Or maybe it was just this piano, maybe it was special of some kind?

It's not like this is exactly a problem though, so he doesn't spare it any mind. It's possible it was all just an incredibly vivid dream, and he shouldn't make any judgments before he has all the facts.

Kiyotaka mechanically goes through the process of getting, doing the same things he always does in the morning. It's important to have a routine, he thinks. It means you don't have to guess what happens next. So getting ready is easy and familiar and he exits his room at the same time he always does.

He's only been at this school—Tokyo Metropolitan Advanced Nurturing High School—for about two weeks now, and he thinks he's starting to settle into a routine. It's a Monday today, so he heads straight for the classroom. There won't be any actual studying, based on prior experience, but he's a student so he should still attend class. It's the normal thing to do.

A truant student is more noticeable than the student who sits quietly at the back of the class doing nothing, after all. So he's going to class, the day after he was summarily crushed by a piano, because that's the normal thing to do.

For being a school day, there are surprisingly few students walking the grounds.

Nobody pays any attention to him. He crosses the first part of the grounds easily enough, and he veers off the path to check out the location he died at yesterday.

It's a sunny day today; just like yesterday. The wind quietly whines through the foliage, the early morning light casting long shadows on the ground. Kiyotaka walks undisturbed, and the silence unsettles him. Because it's Monday, and there should be students frantically rushing to class right now. Kiyotaka always makes certain to arrive just before class starts, so he's not that person who arrives early before everyone else, or a person known for their lateness.

He's got the timing down to perfection. He knows the students who he usually sees on these mornings, the way they rush past him like it's a matter of life and death. Usually upperclassmen, but it's mostly the same people. He walks this path for a reason, after all.

There's nothing special about the place he died.

He thoroughly searches the ground, but can't find any trace of blood or other splatter that would occur when a person is crushed by something that heavy. There are no traces of the damage from the window the piano fell out of the either, and the surroundings are completely undamaged. Not so. much as a wooden splinter to be found.

He founds it doubtful that even a school such as this would be able to completely erase the traces so quickly. Or maybe they could, but there should still be some kind of effort to keep it contained and uncontaminated in case an investigation needs to be made. But there's nothing, and that's most unsettling of all.

Kiyotaka finally determines that no more evidence can be found here and continues on to his classroom. There are less and less students around the closer he comes and his watch tells him he's still early. There should still be people rushing around him. But—eventually there's nobody.

Eventually, he stands in front of his classroom and the door is locked. Eventually, he looks through the windows and discovers there's not a person in there. Eventually, he turns on his phone and checks the date.

Eventually, he discovers it's Sunday—again.

There's not really a lot he can do after that. He returns to his room, settles down on the bed and tries to organize his thoughts. He even contacts Horikita, but there's no evidence to suggest that it should be Monday.

Once all the evidence has been collected, it would be foolishness to deny the truth. It's Sunday. Being crushed by a piano never happened. The only assumption left is that he had a particularly memorable dream—such things are possible. But now that the facts have been determined, he dismisses the rest of the happenings.

He goes through the rest of the day much like he remembers from his dream. It's not odd; he's done pretty much the exact same things every weekend here so far. And dreams take their images and content from your memories, so there's really nothing strange about it.

Kiyotaka spends some time reading in the library, goes to the park and jogs, reads some nice magazines in one of the shops, eats lunch, plays some games on his phone, eats dinner, walks back to his dorm, takes the elevator—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

But, no, because he dies, dies, dies, and then he—wakes up.

He startles awake really, his heart pounding as his eyes flash open. Like falling in a dream, jumping awake the moment you hit the ground. His hand reaches out for his phone, grabbing it from the bedside table. He brings it up to his face, frowning when he sees the date and time.

It's Sunday. It's morning; the weather is sunny with mild winds and no projected rain. He rubs his eyes and blinks at the sunlight streaming in through the windows. A suspicion grows inside of him and he curls his hand around the phone, his eyebrows furrowing.

It's strange.

He quickly changes into his uniform, his frown growing large the more time he takes. Every time he checks his phone or watch, the time is unchanged. It's still Sunday. It's still morning. Nothing changes.

Kiyotaka stalks out into the hallway. He steps up to the elevator, glancing around it. There's nobody else in the corridor; it's only six-thirty in the morning on a Sunday so most people are probably still asleep. It means he's undisturbed when he walks into the elevator and investigates it, checking over every inch of it.

But there's no sign of it having fallen. There's no sign of his death in here.

Kiyotaka frowns again. Once is a coincidence but twice? It looks disturbingly enough like the beginning of a pattern.

He doesn't think this is normal. He doesn't think people usually die and wake up at the start of the day. It seems like the kind of thing people would be warned against, like something people would talk about it. No, if something this extraordinary was normal, he would know.

So it's not normal. But there's no way to tell if it's supposed to be an attack against him, if it's something deliberate done by a human. He doesn't have much faith left over for supernatural beings, but he doesn't think he's nearly interesting enough for something like that to go messing with him, if they do exist.

After all, Ayanokouji Kiyotaka is perfectly normal.

The elevator doesn't reveal anything, as does none of the probing on any of the people he knows. They're not allowed to have contact outside of the school, so he can't exactly easily search for similar instances such as this. Thus, after eating a healthy breakfast, Kiyotaka heads to the library to do some research.

When it comes to dangerous things such as this, knowledge is the number one priority. He's gone over every inch of his skin, categorized every memory he has of the last few days, and he's fairly confident that this is neither a dream nor a delusion. That leaves outside influences as the only possible reason for this strange occurrence, which means—research. And lots of it.

He arrives at the library. Nodding to the librarian on duty, he makes his way through—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

Except, not really. Because he dies, dies, dies, and then he—wakes up.

He bounces on the bed, his eyes flying open. Like when you fall in a dream and wake up the instant you hit the ground; he bounces, and his eyes stare up at the ceiling, and he frowns.

This is officially a pattern. It's happened three times in a row and the evidence all suggests that it will happen again unless he figures out how to stop it. He will have to return to the library, as he didn't have time to start researching before the bookcases fell on him and he was returned to this moment in time.

Kiyotaka sighs as he sits up. He checks the phone, but it's the same as always; exactly the same. It's even the precisely same time down to the minute.

He rubs his neck, scratches slightly on his nose. Changing position so he's leaning against the wall, he browses through his contact list. He's not going to ask for help, because this is too bizarre and he doesn't know anyone who could assist with this. Horikita is too material, too condescending. She would assume it was a joke and put him down for it; he thinks that he might be able to convince others that it's for a game or something and get them to help with research, but he doesn't trust anyone enough for that.

Horikita is really the only person he can count as a friend, so it's sad that she isn't actually one. He thinks this is the kind of special circumstance where outside perspective would be good.

Sometimes, when you get stuck on a problem, the solution is to verbalize it. Speak it out loud and organize your thoughts as you go. You might even say something that you hadn't even consciously thought and have a realization. So Kiyotaka says into the darkness of his room, "I'm stuck in a loop. A time loop."

No realizations are made.

He cocks his head to the side and hums. His plan earlier was correct; he needs information.

Kiyotaka goes through the motions of getting ready. It's still early, and this is evidenced by the fact that he hardly runs into anyone as he crosses the grounds. The library is just as he remember it and enters with a wary eye on the shelves. So far he hasn't died from the same thing twice—riding the elevator has been fine—but a little caution is never wrong.

This time, the library doesn't kill him. He spends close to four hours in there searching through book after book. Non-fiction doesn't give him what he wants, aside from a few theoretical physics books that aren't really helpful at all, so he turns no fiction books soon enough.

He comes closer, but still doesn't have any concrete information. It bugs him, an itch beneath his skin he can't quite manage to scratch. The idea that he can't figure out why this is happening is annoying; it's not a feeling he enjoys.

Kiyotaka leaves the library feeling empty and with a nearly imperceptible frown on his face.

He goes to the cafeteria for lunch. It's afternoon and far more students are up and about now—being the weekend, they're bright and cheery as they take a break from school. Kiyotaka catches sight of a few students from his class as he walks; Sudou is bouncing a basketball by his side as he talks with some people Kiyotaka doesn't know. Kushida is in the middle of a congestion of students who are all smiling brightly. Horikita walks alone with her head held high and a convenience store bag hanging on her arm.

He doesn't know what to do now. It's a strange feeling and it both excites and worries him. There's no frame of reference here, no prior example he can use to figure out the do's and don'ts. His own experience in mystical events such as this is negligent and can't help; he doesn't know anyone who could possibly be useful in this situation either.

It's a conundrum.

The loop suggests that he has time. If he always wakes up at the same time and place, then it stands to reason that he can realistically use the method of elimination. He doesn't know how to fix this, but he has time and—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

There's a pressure in his lungs when he wakes up, a scream lodged in his throat. He was dying, dying, dead. His eyes fly open as awareness abruptly returns to him, as suddenly as when you're falling in your dream and returns to consciousness when you hit the ground. He blinks, and he wakes, and his heart is beating again.

He sits up. Crosses the room and blankly dresses in his uniform, half-heartedly brushing his teeth as he goes. The habit is too ingrained in him for him to ignore it now.

He doesn't go to the library this time. He thinks he will, another time. But for now, there are other avenues to examine.

The first step is telling someone about his circumstance. It doesn't matter who, he just needs to know if someone elseknowing about it has an effect. He strides out of the apartment building and out onto the grounds outside.

It's early, still. It's always early. The sun is shining, birds are chirping and the winds are pleasantly cool. The leaves gently tremble on the trees, the foliage giving the grounds a much more relaxed atmosphere. Kiyotaka crosses them unhindered, taking the long way around the statue that recently crushed him, spying a student not far ahead. He's seen him around; this is the person who so effortlessly controls Class C.

Kiyotaka catches up to Ryuuen; a student who stands out so much isn't hard to remember. He sees the way Ryuuen tilts his head and shoots him an annoyed glance, and decides that he might as well take the opportunity; "I'm stuck in a time loop," Kiyotaka flatly says.

Ryuuen stops dead in his tracks..

Kiyotaka stops as well. He eyes the harsh glare on Ryuuen's face, the way it twists his features. "Hah?" Ryuuen demands, his fists curling by his sides. "Are you messing with me?"

"No." He waits for Ryuuen to do something. He wonders, does he only go back in time if he dies in an accident, or does it also work if he deliberately dies?

Something to think about.

Ryuuen eyes him, something calculating in his eyes. His expression shifts and his shoulders ease back from the tension they'd held as the other teenager turns to face him head on. He sneers, "I don't have time to bother with your games. Buzz off."

Kiyotaka tilts his head. He considers the boy before him and what he knows of him. Ryuuen is smart, and he already has an iron grip on his class. As soon as the point system was revealed, Ryuuen immediately started investigating it amongst the upperclassmen and using his class authority to keep the others in his class from wasting their points.

Kiyotaka doesn't know what's happening. He doesn't know how to stop it, why it's happening, or how to even figure out a plan to deal with it. This is the kind of thing that plainly isn't made for logic, and his mind fails at coming up for plans about it.

Outside perspective is useful, despite what some of his teachers claimed. It does help, to have another way of looking at the problem.

And he's always been told to take advantage of whatever he can to succeed.

"It's not a game," he says to Ryuuen. He rocks a little on his heels, trying to project honesty. Ryuuen's sneer only grows, so he doesn't think he's doing very well. He continues, "Aren't you curious, if it could be true?"

Ryuuen laughs, the sound mocking. Kiyotaka didn't think a person could sound that mocking while laughing, and makes a note of it. He's not certain what use the ability has, but maybe it's an intimidation thing?

"Alright then," Ryuuen says, a cruel glint in his eyes. The sun catches on his hair, lighting it up from behind. Objectively, Kiyotaka thinks, Ryuuen is probably a good-looking person. "I'll play your game," Ryuuen says. He sweeps his hands out and declares, "I'll tell you a secret. On your next loop, find me and let me know what I told you, and I'll believe you."

It's a better response than Kiyotaka was expecting. He nods, memorizing what Ryuuen tells him. He's not entirely sure what kind of expertise Ryuuen brings to the table, but Kiyotaka has none at—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

His eyes blearily blink open, his eyelids heavy as he stare out at the room before him. His heartbeat is pounding, his breathing quick as he forces his body to calm down. He lays there for a moment, the shock of waking so abruptly still making him uneasy. Like falling in a dream; waking the instant you the ground.

He has a plan now though, and he doesn't waste any time putting it into motion. First off, he needs to find out if anything has changed, if telling Ryuuen about his circumstances changed the game.

It's still the same time he always wakes up. When he texts Horikita, he gets the same scathing remark in response as usual. He checks the temperature and keeps an eye out as he walks across the school ground toward where he last met Ryuuen. Nothing has changed. It doesn't seem (at first glance, at least) like revealing the truth made any difference.

That does, however, mean that there's nothing holding him back.

Ryuuen is precisely where he lasts saw him.

He speeds up, his feet thumping loudly on the ground to announce his presence. Ryuuen turns his head and glances over his shoulder when Kiyotaka gets closer, scowl already on his face.

He appreciates the fact that Ryuuen so quickly gave him a practical solution last time. It saves him time and effort that are better spent on other avenues.

Reaching Ryuuen, he wastes no time, "I'm stuck in a time loop. Last loop, you gave me a secret and told me tell it to you and you'd believe me. The secret is: You think pandas are super cute but if I tell anyone else, you'll have me disposed of."

Ryuuen's eyes widens. He snags a hold of Kiyotaka's shirt and pulls him close. "Shut the fuck up," he snarls in Kiyotaka's face, shaking him a little. Kiyotaka lets the man move him, hanging still as a rag doll. It's interesting; everything so far has been interesting. He doesn't know what's happening, and that only makes it all the more fascinating.

Ryuuen starts dragging him along without saying a word. Kiyotaka goes along with it, because there's not a reason not to. He gets dragged to an apartment building, gets dragged into an elevator, dragged onto another floor, dragged into a dorm room that is surprisingly clean for a teenage boy.

He gets dropped onto the bed and furiously glared at when he tries to rise from it, so he simply stays sitting.

Ryuuen paces around the room, his steps steady in a way that says he knows everything his body is capable of. Kiyotaka thinks he must have fighting experience, to move like that. It's the kind of slow, relaxed gait of somebody who knows intimately how to move each body part. Training isn't enough for that, real fighting experience is needed.

"Explain everything that's happened so far," Ryuuen declares, turning to face him. He sits down on the desk chair and stares intently at him.

Kiyotaka dutifully recounts every single thing that's happened so far, knowing how vital the tiniest clue could be. He tells the other teenager of his research and his assumptions, and his minor experiment last time. It feels nice to get everything off his chest and it does help to organize his thoughts, when he has to vocalize everything and put it into words.

It doesn't lead to any sudden realizations, but it makes him feel more settled. He hadn't realized how chaotic the last few days have been until he actually had to explain it.

Ryuuen looks thoughtful when Kiyotaka is done. He falls into silence and waits for Ryuuen's reaction, paying attention to his body language. He's not entirely sure what reaction he's expecting, but he's pleasantly surprised when Ryuuen says, "Fine, I'll help you."

It seems too easy.

All of Kiyotaka's prior experience tells him that it can't possibly be this easy. There should be negotiation and tactics involved. He should have to first investigate the target and then form a plan to approach them; categorize things that can go wrong and how to deal with them. But Ryuuen blows past all that like it doesn't even matter.

It does, of course. That's the point. But Ryuuen seems to think that he's good enough at adjusting things as he goes that he can just ignore it and it'll still work out.

"Alright, then. Let's make a plan," Ryuuen grins wildly, the expression causing something like excitement to stir within Kiyotaka.

Interesting. This has all been very interesting.

They spend the next hour cooking together a plan. It goes far more smoothly than Kiyotaka had imagined planning together with someone else would. It's enjoyable, even. Ryuuen is smart, tactical and has the kind of practicality in his planning that'll take him far. He picks up on the pieces Kiyotaka lays down and builds on it without any trouble.

It's nice, surpassingly. Kiyotaka didn't think it would be, for some reason.

Though he's fairly sure he's going to die soon, he still needs to eat. The human brain needs sustenance to operate at peak capacity, which is what he needs right now, so he's not going to ignore that need just because it's not absolutely necessary right this second. And there is a chance, however small it might be, that he won't die and then he'll suffer tomorrow for not having eaten.

He heads over to the cafeteria, having left Ryuuen to stew alone in his room, and eats a nice, pleasant meal on his lonesome. When he's done, he—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

He shoots up on the bed, his hands clammy as they clench on the mattress. It feels like falling, like hitting the ground and waking up so quickly that it's a shock to his system. His heart is racing, his mouth dry as he stares at the wall. Sunlight is streaming in through the window, the curtain hanging calmly in front of it.

He presses a hand to his chest and breathes to the count of ten, feeling the beat of his heart slowly calm down. It's fine. Everything is fine.

It's mechanical, getting ready to leave. He's done it so many times before he's fairly confident he could do it in his sleep. Familiar, easy, relaxing. When he's ready, he leaves the apartment building to initiate Phase 1 of the plan.

So far, everything that's killed him has been the result of an accident. Mostly things falling and crushing him, and he doesn't precisely think that that's a coincidence, but it could just be that it's an easy accident to fabricate. Assuming that there is some kind of conscious force guiding this game along.

Because he doesn't think now, that this could be happenstance. Outside, conscious, interference is the only thing that could do this, and whether it's a god or a human it's still a matter of the same thing. Somebody is doing this, which means that there's an objective.

That objective might be amusement, a test, torture, or something else. But it's there, undoubtedly.

If Kiyotaka can find it, he can figure out how to end this.

It's simple, really. All he needs to do is use the method of elimination and the answer will eventually reveal itself. And the first thing to eliminate is—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

Except, not really. Instead, he lurches up on his bed, hunching in on himself as he tries to calm his frantically beating heart. Like falling in a dream, he thinks, and waking up the instant you hit the ground.

Some part of him recognizes the fact that he's shaking, but a bigger part is preoccupied with how quickly he died the last time around. He wonders, is it the fact that he has a plan? Was putting the plan together and actually moving to execute it something that caused his death this time? Did it make the perpetuator behind this scheme nervous?

It's never good to panic. Staying calm so you can assess all the parts is a necessary component to scheming.

He goes through the bare minimum motions of getting ready, hurrying out the door as soon as he can. The morning sun is heavy on his eyes as he goes, looking for that place where he knows Ryuuen will be. He slows down as he goes, his thoughts organizing into clearly named boxes and he knows what needs to be done.

The first elimination has succeeded, and now it's on to the next thing. It's really not something that requires a lot of effort or planning put into it; all he has to do is methodically go through each option until only one remains. In the meantime, this is the perfect time to get some other, less important but still useful, stuff done.

Ryuuen trods along on the path toward him, his gait slow and predatory. His face is expressionless as he walks, and Kiyotaka finds himself wondering what the other teenager is thinking about. He looks relaxed where he walks alone, his pace steady and unhurried, hands in his pockets as he slowly stalks over the ground. Then he sees Kiyotaka and tension bleeds into his shoulders, a glare in his eyes and a sneer on his lips. Kiyotaka waits and sure enough, Ryuuen keeps walking toward him.

The predatory gait to his steps, the way that danger is folded over him like a cloak, makes something in Kiyotaka sit up and take notice. He eyes the clear musculature under his clothes and the strong lines of his body and wonders if this man would be a challenge.

When Ryuuen is close enough, Kiyotaka says, "You think pandas are super cute but if I tell anyone else, you'll have me disposed of."

Ryuuen stops in his tracks. His eyes are intelligent and calculating as he looks at Kiyotaka and he doesn't say a word for a moment. In the silence, Kiyotaka starts wondering if he should maybe have started with something else; eased into it. Interactions are still hard for him, because despite the fact that he's been here for two weeks now he still haven't had a lot of chances to practice.

But Ryuuen looks at him, his mind clearly whirling away and Kiyotaka can almost convince himself he sees the moment Ryuuen comes to a conclusion, and it's the correct one. "How many times?" he asks, and Kiyotaka has a bewildering moment where he's not sure what the question refers to.

"You told me four loops ago," he settles on and hopes that that's the correct answer.

"So how's the plan going?" Ryuuen asks, his eyes beginning to sparkle.

Kiyotaka shrugs and says, "The process of elimination will take some time."

"Naturally," Ryuuen nods. He starts walking and says, "You can tell me everything over breakfast."

Kiyotaka sees no reason to refuse. He follows the teenager all the way to the cafeteria where Ryuuen claims a large table for them and splays out, ignoring the annoyed looks of the other people also awake at this early hour. They eat the breakfast in silence, despite what Ryuuen said, and then when all the food is gone, Kiyotaka goes on to explain what's been happening so far.

"If they're panicking because you're working on a solution, you'll probably die again soon," Ryuuen says. He doesn't sound particularly bothered by it, his tone more contemplating in nature.

"Yes," Kiyotaka agrees, because the books say you're supposed to keep the conversation going.

Ryuuen grins. It makes him look wilder, his energy almost blazing off him. If this was an anime, Kiyotaka imagines he would be surrounded by light and the music would be swelling. As it is, that thing inside him perks up and he feels himself sitting straighter in his seat in response.

He wonders if this is what making friends feel like. If this lightness spreading inside him, if this excitement building within him, is what normal people feel in these situations. He wonders if he might be on his way to succeeding in one of his own self-appointed goals, if he might succeed with Ryuuen where he failed with Horikita.

But he doesn't rush the answers. It's important to not push too harshly, he knows. Friendships will form naturally when people have things in common and so all—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

He's wheezing as he wakes up, his breath rattling in his chest. He feels startled, confused. Like he was falling in his dream and woke up the instant he hit the ground.

He forces his body back under his control and waits until the shaking has stopped. Then he swings his legs over the edge and stands up, walking toward the window. He glances outside, down toward the ground. After a second, he opens the window—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

His mouth feel full of cotton as he returns to the waking world, his heart still beating a mile a minute. He's confused for the barest of seconds before he recalled how he ended up here, how he shook himself awake. It felt like he was falling in a dream, and he woke up when he hit the ground.

It's interesting, though. Interesting that he can't kill himself, that when he was on the edge of trying, he was instead crushed by his bookcase before he could go through with it. And he doesn't think a single bookcase should have been able to to kill him so easily either, but this loop clearly isn't governed by logic.

As soon as he's wearing proper clothes (he doesn't want to cause a commotion by going out in his sleepwear) Kiyotaka is out the door. It will take quite a lot of loops for his process to give him some answers and in the meanwhile, he's decided to take shameless advantage of this situation. He's overheard the guys in his class talking, and he's under the impression that it's what anyone normal—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

His eyes snap open, awareness rushing back to him in an uncomfortable instant. It's like falling in a dream and waking up when you hit the ground, he thinks. So sudden it's jarring and for a second, he doesn't know what's happening.

The knowledge returns him in one piece instead of scattered pieces and it's appreciated. He stands—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

It feels like his heart is in his throat as he trashes to wakefulness, his eyes already searching for a threat. Like falling, he thinks, and waking up the instant you hit the ground. He forces his breaths under control, forces himself to calm down and take stock of the situation. It's important—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

Blinking blearily up at the ceiling, his hand shoots out for his phone. His heartbeat is still racing in his chest, the sensation not unlike falling in a dream, only to wake up the instant you hit the ground. It's an unnerving feeling and when he checks the clock, nothing's—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

The waking is too sudden, the rush of awareness too raw. He feels like he was falling in a dream, only to wake up the instant—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

His heart hammers in his chest as he breathes himself alive, his blood rushing in his ears. Like falling, he thinks, and waking—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

He blinks himself awake, lying still for a moment before he reaches out for his phone. It felt like he was falling—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

The room is uncomfortably bright when he squints his eyes open. His heart is beating—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

He stares up at the ceiling as he waits for his breaths—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

There's a heaviness in his chest—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

His head is spinning—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

For a moment—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

He feels—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

It's—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's—

Kiyotaka dies, and—

Kiyotaka dies—

Kiyotaka—

Kiyo—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

Or, well, it would be. If things were normal, that would be the end of the story. But he dies, dies, dies, and—wakes up.

Shakes himself awake, really. His heartbeat is thundering in his ears as he blinks up at the ceiling, the sunlight hitting his eyes causing him to frown. He lays still for a moment, simply waiting. When nothing immediate happens, he heaves himself up and out of the bed.

Brushing a hand through his hair, he hums. So far, he thinks the progress has been steady and more than good enough. He's eliminated enough options that he's fairly certain at this point what the answer is. It's a relief, having a more concrete resolution to this problem. It makes his shoulders lighter, the weight of not having a solution leaving him.

He goes through the motions of getting ready, pulls on his school uniform and leaves his room. He takes the elevator down to the ground level and heads outside, raising a hand to protect himself from the sun's rays.

Ryuuen is right where he expects him to be, slowly stalking down the road. Kiyotaka speeds up slightly, catching up soon enough. As soon as he's within hearing range, he says, "You think pandas are super cute but if I tell anyone else, you'll have me disposed of."

Ryuuen spins on his heel and demands, "Don't say another word."

Kiyotaka doesn't. He simply waits for Ryuuen to go through all the options and narrow down the possibilities of what's happening, waits for him to say something.

Like always, Ryuuen doesn't disappoint.

"One of these days, I'll take that as a threat and punch you," Ryuuen declares, but he's already moving into step with him.

Kiyotaka only says, "You haven't so far."

Ryuuen clicks his tongue. He doesn't say anything else and they go to the cafeteria in a comfortable silence. They hardly meet any other students on the road and once in the cafeteria, Ryuuen lays claim to a table without regards for the other early risers who were on their way to it. Kiyotaka follows and sits down with his meal.

"You know what's up yet?" Ryuuen asks when they've finished eating.

"Yes," Kiyotaka says. "Surviving the whole day should do the trick. It's not enough to survive until night, so I think it's twenty-four hours."

Ryuuen nods. The fact that he accepts all this without any hint of hesitation is always something that makes Kiyotaka stop in his tracks in every loop. Ryuuen is too smart and he's too calculating and too good at finding the answers. The way he catches every hint Kiyotaka lays out, the way he finds the answers to questions Kiyotaka never voices... this is a very dangerous man.

Out of everyone at this school, Kiyotaka is now certain that Ryuuen is the most dangerous. It's Ryuuen he'll need to look out for when the school starts their testing. It's Ryuuen he'll have to be careful of.

Others too, of course. But Ryuuen is the one that thinks most like Kiyotaka, that can follow Kiyotaka's line of thinking the easiest. Thus, he is the greatest threat.

"My place or yours?" Ryuuen asks, like it's a forgone conclusion.

"Yours."

They go back to Ryuuen's place, just barely managing to avoid the falling statue and the slippery stairs, and the falling flowerpots. Kiyotaka knows what to do look out for, knows how to keep his perceptions open for danger. But it still takes a toll, the constant—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

He shoots out of the bed as quickly as he can, ignoring his heartbeat slowing down. He rushes through the motions of getting ready and hurries down the stairs, sliding around corners quicker than is safe. He reaches the spot where he always meets Ryuuen and it's empty. Checking his phone, he breathes out in relief and waits.

Ryuuen comes along on the road soon enough. Kiyotaka has a plan now, and so he walks right up to the other teenager, says, "You think pandas are super cute but if I tell anyone else, you'll have me disposed of," and grabs ahold of Ryuuen's hand, already pulling him back to the dorms.

The fact that Ryuuen just lets him pull him along, follows without saying a word, makes Kiyotaka's stomach tingle. It feels a little like bugs are crawling inside it, trying to force their way up his throat. It's an unsettling feeling, but it doesn't feel bad exactly.

"You have a plan?" Ryuuen asks as they're making their way up the stairs.

"Yes," Kiyotaka answers, still holding onto that hand. It's what saves him when the handrail rips out of its sockets and almost takes him with it, so he congratulates himself for his great decision-making skills.

They're in front of Ryuuen's door when Ryuuen says, "If this is a prank, I'll ruin you."

"Not a prank."

Ryuuen locks the door behind them, and Kiyotaka walks further into the room. He looks around and decides that yes, his plan will probably work. The lamp isn't over the empty patch of nothing in the middle of the room either, so that works out really well. There are no furniture that can crush him if he's there, either.

So Kiyotaka walks into the middle of the room and sits down on the carpet.

After a second, Ryuuen joins him on the floor. He crosses his legs and stares at Kiyotaka with a gaze that he can't unravel. "Do you plan to just sit here?" Ryuuen asks after a while, still staring. He's frowning slightly, his eyebrows furrowed as his mind works.

"Yes," Kiyotaka answers, because he does.

If all he has to do is just survive twenty-four hours, then this is a good a place as any to wait for the clock to tick down. He's thrown away his phone so there's no chance of getting electrocuted, and now it's just a matter of waiting.

"Alright," Ryuuen says.

After about half-an-hour of staring at Kiyotaka, Ryuuen leaves. He comes back with food but Kiyotaka declines it so that he can't choke on it (he did that already, but he's not taking any chances now). Ryuuen only shrugs and eats his own meal in silence. When it's gone, he takes out the trash and then returns again.

"Want a book?" Ryuuen asks eventually.

Kiyotaka shakes his head. "Paper-cuts," he says in response at the questioning look he gets.

Ryuuen goes back to staring again. Kiyotaka doesn't know what he's looking for or what he's finding, but he finds that he doesn't mind it. Ryuuen's gaze is... intense and overwhelming but somehow in a good way. It makes the tingling in his stomach worse, but it never crosses the line into painful.

The hours pass agonizingly slowly, now that he's finally on the cusp of a solution.

Kiyotaka lets his mind flow, lets it wander wherever it will. He makes no effort to control it, no effort to steer its path. It makes the time go slightly faster, if his mind is already running full-steam ahead and veering into paths unknown.

After a while, Ryuuen switches so that he's sitting beside Kiyotaka. He has a textbook in his hands and is slowly going through it with a pencil, writing notes in the margins.

It's quiet and it's peaceful and it's exactly what Kiyotaka wanted when he made the decision to come to this school.

He eyes the other teenager; the way he sits with his back straight and his legs splayed out wildly, with no regards for others. The way his eyes narrow as he concentrates, the way he writes notes that are barely more than scribbles and yet succinctly sums up the information. Ryuuen is handsome, too, the kind of handsome that makes him look kind of like a dick.

The hours wile away slowly, but they do pass and eventually it's night again. The rooms are soundproof enough that he can't hear what's going on outside, and it's all the better.

Ryuuen looks at the clock and rises to his feet, asking, "Going to sleep?" while he's digging through the closet.

"No," answers Kiyotaka. It's better if he doesn't. It's better if he stays here.

"Okay." Ryuuen says, "Wake me up if you're still alive tomorrow."

Kiyotaka nods. He watches as Ryuuen gets ready for bed, as he changes into sleepwear. He was right, Ryuuen is very clearly well-trained and in good shape. He disappears for a bit into the bathroom but comes back soon enough, and then crawls under the covers while yawning. He turns off the lights, and Kiyotaka looks away from the lump on the bed.

And then he waits.

Waits, waits, waits.

The clock ticks. Moonlight seeps through the windows. Furniture rattles like it's trying to fall, but never does. It wouldn't reach him anyway and he suspects that whoever's behind this knows that. Clouds block the moonlight for a while but soon enough it's back. Kiyotaka stays sitting, waiting quietly in the darkness.

The sun slowly rises over the horizon. Light seeps in through the window, the curtains utterly failing at blocking it. He doesn't move. Waiting, waiting, waiting.

It's nearly cruel, how leisurely time passes.

But he waits, and eventually...

Eventually, it's seven in the morning on a Monday, more than twenty-four hours after he woke up this morning. His stomach is grumbling, having been devoid of food for too long. His mouth is dry—he hadn't drunk anything yesterday to ensure he wouldn't drown.

Ryuuen's alarm rattles alive on the bedside table, and the other teenager grumbles on the bed. An arm pokes out of the lump and waves in the air until it finds the alarm clock and crashes down onto it with extreme prejudice.

It's Monday, and Kiyotaka is still alive.

quillpunk: screenshot of Luca (making a disgusted, scheming expression) from the webcomic The Villainess Flips the Script (luca1)
[personal profile] quillpunk
  • Rating: G
  • Categories: M/M
  • Fandom: 백작가의 망나니가 되었다 - 유려한 | Trash of the Count's Family - Yulyeohan
  • Characters: Choi Han, Cale Henituse | Kim Rok Soo
  • Additional Tags: Ficlet
  • Status: Complete
  • Wordcount: 393
  • Published on AO3: 2021-04-12

Notes: A really old Choi Han-centric drabble of mine from tumblr.

Disclaimer: I do not own 백작가의 망나니가 되었다 or any associated trademarks.


Choi Han blinked himself to wakefulness and rolled out of bed. He stretched properly, yawning slightly through them, and moved over to his closet. Dressing was easy, the movements flowing through him like water. He walked over to the window, pulling the drapes apart to let the sunlight in.

For a minute, he stood still. He took a breath, a breath, one more breath. The sensation of sunshine on his skin was like the first bite of his mother’s favorite tea. He blinked as the sunlight shone into his eyes.

He walked, stepping over the stone floors, on his way to the office. Out the windows that he passed, he could see the wolf children training. A warm feeling spread through his stomach, as if the sun itself had deigned to give him light. It pooled in the bottom of his belly, speeding up his steps as he hurried.

Around corners and through long hallways, and he arrived at a wooden door.

Choi Han breathed deeply, pulling in air through his nose, and wondered if his emotions were visible on his face. He didn’t think they were, but such things didn’t matter anyway. It wasn’t necessary.

Opening the door, pushing it open almost all the way, he sneaked in through the doorway before he could be sent away again.

The brilliant sunshine shone in through the open windows along the far wall, glowing with yellow and orange and red as it descended upon the body of Cale Henituse, sitting behind a big desk. Choi Han’s steps faltered slightly as he took in the sight of the light falling on Cale’s hair, turning it a fiery shade of red, akin to an open flame.

In the morning light, with so few candles lit, Cale’s hair shone like a miniature sun. Like he was glowing from the inside out, the light halo’d around him, surrounding him as he read reports.

“Choi Han?” Cale looked up, a frowning twisting his elegant features, “What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”

Choi Han just shook his head, walking over to the wall and standing still. His eyes sneaked peeks at Cale as the man kept working, Raon sitting next to him and a cat on his lap.

Even as the sun rose high into the sky and no longer reached through the windows, Cale never stopped glowing.

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fanfiction by hoodwinked

November 2023

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