#xinxiins

[ from lcy ! who def said it in mandarin and his baby sis wendy translated sdfsdkf LMAO ]

point out a flaw of byan'sㅤㅤ∘ ˚ ( accepting )

ㅤof all their many, many flaws which one could choose from to point out, that is not one they're expecting to hear, and it stops byan in their tracks. startled, they blink owlishly at wendy, then shift their gaze back to chényǔ.

ㅤㅤ" what? "ㅤvoice heated, if also carrying a hint of alarm, an anger flares inside their chest before they even really know why.

because it makes them sound pathetic, they think; makes them sound weak.

more than likely, however, it's because it hits too close to home. it's because he's right, and because him saying such a thing means he's noticed it. means he's seen right through them. means that they've been perceived on a deep and accurate level, a concept they find terrifying — they hide their insecurities beneath their bravado as a form of protection, after all. someone taking note of such a thing is dangerous.

ㅤ—and yet... even as a weakness has been pinpointed and displayed out in the open... he's being nice about it instead of using it to tear them down. what the fuck. nothing about this is right. nothing about this is okay. caught off guard by the remark and uncertain of how to react to it as they are, their fight or flight instincts are beginning to kick in.

[ for chishiya, from shīyì ;~; ! ]

↳ INVISIBLE MAN SENTENCE STARTERS

IT IS A STRANGE THING. Chishiya has never had anyone care for him as a person. Even his birth hadn't been something of LOVE or want, but social expectation. The perfect husband, perfect wife, perfect child as proof of how successful the parents were. He was fine with that. If the world wanted to be apathetic, so was he. Or maybe he was just flawed from the very beginning and would have been like this no matter what world it was. ( Wasn't the fact he was THE SAME here as the other world proof enough? ) Maybe he was nothing more than a SKELETAL PROGRAM, bare bones of flesh and calcium but lacking everything HUMAN.

Either way, Chishiya was fine. He entered games, he won games, he left. That's all there was to it.

He's never had someone tell him to take care of himself. Obviously he would. It wasn't that Chishiya cared about his life ; he just DIDN'T LIKE TO LOSE. So he wouldn't lose. Take care of yourself. At most, Chishiya's only said good luck to Kuina a time or two before. Never this. Never take care of yourself. The words carry a weight of concern and worry to them that Chishiya's UNFAMILIAR with. He gives a slow blink as he regards Shiyi before a letting out a soft chuckle.

@xinxiins asked :

‘ i can’t do anything right.’

[ for rou rou, from mòwén ! 100% guarantee u he didn't mean for her to hear him say that about himself, but 8)c ]

Her brows knit, hand lingering on the back of the park bench, and in a moment Qi Rou looks over reflexively at the playground. The girls don't seem to have noticed, still lowering themselves gingerly but happily nonetheless into the double slide, clinging to the rails and to each other. The short few meters up from the ground to them at this age must be COLOSSAL heights - she had been worried Jiyue would cry, but she's surprisingly brave today - perhaps because her scant years on Xuanli made her dub herself the BIG sister.

ㅤㅤ" don't you think you should be talking to someone your own age? "

[ for annie ! ]

@xinxiins / "i want to know..." prompts

WHAT A STRANGE QUESTION TO ASK. Most of the time when people see her, they don’t ask her about her life. If they even ask them in the first place. She can always see it in their eyes, the prying questions: what happened, how did you get like this, will you ever be the same again, oh that poor girl-

The questions are never about her, so much as they are about what was done to her. The same difference between a subject and an object. Maybe that’s why he asks her this question instead. She doesn’t know what he’s been through and it is vice versa too, but like is attracted to like. The wounded have a way of finding one another, the same way rivers will always make their way to the sea in the end.

“...Water?” She offers, hesitantly. Is that too simple of an answer to say? Although perhaps it is not right to say it makes her happy so much as it calms her, silences the thoughts when she can’t do so herself. “The beach. I grew up with the sea and the sand at my feet. And Samchu– the neighborhood cat. She likes it when her chin is scratched.” She closes her eyes, remembering Samchu’s purring against her fingers. The calico cat would then rub her head against the back of Annie’s hand. A small smile. 

“Chocolate. I like the dark ones and mint. I don’t like it when they’re in bars; the individual pieces have prettier wrapping.” Would anyone care if they knew? Annie doesn’t know, but if they would, would they go out of their to–

Oh wait, there is one person. 

What makes Annie happy, Lí Chényǔ asks her, when sanity and coherence already feels out of of arm’s reach. Happiness? It wasn’t even, and still doesn’t feel like a priority for her. And yet, and yet-! In the midst of this chaos, she did find something. Or rather someone found her. She thinks of long hair and a stoic demeanor. Of a voice strong and controlled, but still chooses to call Annie’s name gently. Yes, that’s her north star, isn’t it? Annie’s light in this dark chasm.

“Ara.”

My best friend. 

It was fate that sent her running into that little shop one day – just looking for some shelter from the rain. The inside was so spectacular, so crammed full of dresses and suits and clothes of all kinds that it stuck in her head for days and days and days until she found time to draw it. Brought it back in a neat little frame – presented it to the owner’s son shyly. Like a child handing something to their teacher.

And then it became near routine to drop by. Once a week turned to twice, to three times – to damn near every single day. She liked to watch Jihai work – liked to talk his ear off while he finished alterations for the day. Their friendship was easy, and it made sense,

and it was safe.

Like now, she’s bursting through the door with an armful of snack bags (that she didn’t want to leave in her car, afraid the contents would melt); a bag of ripped-open skittles swinging from between her teeth. She waves pitifully to his dad as bags of candy fall out of her grasp. She looks ridiculous. Almost like she’d just robbed some poor little kid of their Halloween candy stash.

today, lí chényǔ does something he'd normally never do: in the moments between finishing his shift at the grocery store and heading out to civic center to busk, he takes a few minutes for himself. pauses. even buys a few treats at hong li bakery: a wife cake for himself, egg tarts for wendy and michael. ( he needs the fresh air, he thinks. he's not feeling well --- coughing again. it's been rainy lately --- always makes the mold in his family's tenement room get worse. makes it harder to breathe. ) something catches the corner of his eye: a kid. unaccompanied, by the looks of it. lost, maybe ? sometimes schools bring kids around here as part of tour groups --- but, no, that couldn't be it, it's too late in the day; they've all gone home. something about this --- it's not right to keep on walking or mind his own business. so lí chényǔ doesn't. he stops ( and, after some consideration, gingerly pulls his wife cake out of the bag. today, he can go without. that'll make today like most days. ) "hey. xiǎo péngyou," he calls out, voice hoarse but gentle, then takes a knee, holding out his wife cake in silent offering. "kid. lost ? you ... need help ... find your mama ? lí chényǔ --- " he points to himself, " --- i live here. i help you, hm ? here --- snack. you take."

initially, the kid startles. brown eyes blown wide, hands worrying at backpack straps. had he done something wrong? would this stranger ask, demand he leave? his very existence tiptoed a fine, fine line. (street kids like him were ostracized. ignored at best. confronted and harassed at worst.)

the stranger bends to a knee. and august stares. that voice, though. it carries neither irritation nor irritation. in fact, it sounds soft. rustling of a bag and revealed pastry reminds august of his hunger. his hands, delicate-like, timid, take this snack. clutching onto it as if somebody might steal it away.

“ xièxiè. ” his voice tumbles out, southern accent evident. pronouncing it hushed and sincere.