#Had to document it anyhow :)

[fstarnd1sco]

my favourite detail about viktor's flashback is the fact that his cane is too small for him

its not much, just a few inches too short, as canes are meant to the level of one's hip and his is right above it. a cane user also should be able to flex his elbow at a 20-30° angle (MD R. K., 1995), which he absolutely cannot do, and their wrist should be creased so the palm of the hand can rest comfortably. ideally, canes are measured and fitted to the user with a formula that takes into account both arm length and height

i dont think he developed spinal "problems" (for the lack of a more concrete term) that caused him to get spinal implants and use a back brace because of a too short cane, but it surely contributed

and i like this detail because it tells you a little something about his character, it encourages you to create your hypothesis, maybe he was growing and he could not afford to replace his cane, maybe he was stretching it out as much as he could. he has been probably using that cane for years now and you can see how it was obviously meant to be used by a smaller child AND also while we are at it

it is hand made, its a stick with a handle built into it, and the base just doesn't exist. makes you wonder.... who built it? maybe one of his parents was also an inventor, maybe they were good at building.... i dunno, maybe they built it for him

it just says so much about him, about his background, and it also creates this tragic picture of this kid with a cane that is meant to be used by someone smaller.... maybe he hasn't realised he has grown, or maybe he doesn't want to acknowledge it because he knows he cannot afford a new cane, maybe thats scary for him, i dunno

— R. K. (1995). Methods for estimating the proper length of a cane. Archives of Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation. url

[lostin2012]

Do you think Adam disliked women or hated Nancy?

No to both.. but I don't really like commenting on the latter.

A lot of people sort of misinterpret the selfish document. I don't think it was a condemnation. As Adam basically said, selfishness isn't an inherently negative attribute. I think Adam was describing a specific kind of woman in the selfish document, a woman encultured to be a certain way, though in some places the document does sound like it generalizes just a tad. I don't believe Adam would have any prejudice against people for characteristics like sex or race, he just had a problem with culturally induced behaviors that betrayed rationality in some capacity.

[hipsofsteel]

bemoaning the state of the american education system, specifically the economics class i took that taught me absolutely nothing

[flovverworks]

There's no words accompanying when they shyly reach out toward the other's hand; touching, grasping, comforting. A gentle search for solace in face of a tired heart and soul.

[annabelle--cane]

mosquitos have always flocked to jonathan.

he has a particular memory from when he was about eleven of sitting outside in the sun and feeling a little prick on the back of his hand. he put it down to the tickle of sweat and ignored it, before, out of the corner of his eye, seeing the blasted thing rise up from his skin and begin making its way towards the friend sitting beside him. he clapped his hands around it in a flash before it could have the chance to sink its strange needley mouth into anyone else, feeling the tiny crunch between the meat of his palms.

he had opened his hands again, and, upon seeing the creature’s mangled and dismembered corpse all over him, briefly regretted how quick he was to action. his immediate instinct was to wipe his hands off on the long grass on which he was sitting, but something gave him pause before he could. there was a small, bright smear of red across the palm of his hand, mixed in with the dead insect’s body parts. fresh blood. his blood.

for a second, it felt like an injustice. that had been in his body less than ten seconds ago, why couldn’t he have it back? he had the mad idea to lick it off of his palms, but stayed his tongue before he could so thoroughly make a fool of himself in front of his friend. he wiped his palms on the grass, washed his hands of it, and that was that. still, he was glad he had dealt with the issue before the bloodsucker could make its mark on anyone else.

jonathan is now no longer eleven, and he stands in the count’s room, staring at the monster’s wretched youthful body.

he cannot find the key. he had forced his trembling hands to make search of all the pockets and chambers of the robes, and he had found nothing.

there is fresh blood on the count’s lips.

he has no mirror, so has no ability to confirm nor disprove whether the prickle he felt on his throat in his sleep was merely sweat. his mind has not been entirely sound as of late, so it is best not to record any wild conjecture for which he has no evidence.

he wants his mirror back. and his clothes. and his papers, his documents, anything he had that showed he was himself. he wants his letter back, the one he poured his heart into and addressed to mina, the one that the count burnt to ash in front of his eyes. it was for her and now it’s gone.

he imagines leaning down to lick the blood off the ruby lips. 

he wants to. 

and why not? all he has left to lose of himself is his soul, and that will surely be gone by tonight, anyhow. why not burn it out first and rob them of the satisfaction? why wait for his teeth to sharpen? he has canines as it is, he has eaten plenty of meat before. licking up the mosquito was never going to undo the bite, but it would have done something. it would have made him feel less a fool for ignoring the sting and waiting until it was too late to protect himself. why not open his mouth and take his life back?

he stares at the bloated face of the vampire to whom he has so meticulously given his aid. housing, language, company, clothing. all that was his to give, taken right out of his hands. he cannot let this place take his last vestige of self.

no, his soul is not his to give, and it has not been for some months. he has pledged his troth to mina. he will not dash her gift before he has had a chance to place it in her hands. his soul and remaining self is in his possession, but it is marked it for her. if he burns it, then it is gone.

he reaches for the shovel.

[hannie-dul-set]

fire and brimstone (and you’re a moth made of gasoline) — FOUR.

SYNOPSIS. having fought tooth and nail out of high school, university, and law school, only to end up working for a law firm that basically serves as a clean up dog after the biggest organized crime group in the district, you thought you couldn’t get any lower than this. 

the bar is in hell, and yet you’ve managed to limbo six feet beneath that. alternatively— na jaemin is the personification of hell, and your very existence just makes him even worse than he already is. 

PAIRING. na jaemin x female! reader. GENRE. gang! au, lawyer! au, office! au, comedy, drama, romance, very light angst, this is a sitcom, hate to love(?), a somewhat questionable power dynamic, asshole! jaemin (my beloved…my kryptonite…) but he’s also an idiot, jaemin has an eye contact thing, inspired by the manhwas “weak hero” and “study group.” WARNINGS. an abundance of criminal activity (including but not limited to organized crime, fraud, blackmail, DUIs, unethical and illegal occupational practices, etc.), blood and violence, suggestive themes, eventual non explicit sex, jaemin with a tattoo, legal inaccuracies because i am not familiar with south korean laws, so i’m just using my own country’s as reference. also because this is just a stupid thirst fic. who gives a damn. WORD COUNT. 10k.

NOTE. whewwww so much happens in this. like a lot WAHAHAHAHAH. would love to hear your thoughts and comments, maybe even predictions HAHA. there’s a bit more violence in this than in the previous chapters, but y’all know what you’re getting into. anyhow, enjoy! CHAPTER FIVE.

THAT DAY WAS PERHAPS THE MOST EVENTUAL DAY YOU’VE HAD AT NALKEUTTA. It’s been two weeks since then, and in the past week you’ve been plagued by contract drafts and notarizing documents, meeting with the groups new clients (i.e. victims) to trap a few more poor souls into this burning death trap, and giving legal advice to Mark Lee whenever he calls and needs.

Honestly, if this was all that your job consisted of, you’d be a pretty happy camper, especially considering the zeroes your bank account is set to accrue. No more hearings every other day. No more angry clients trying to get a slap on the wrist for attempted assault or embezzling company funds or whatever shit. Your work at present is more peaceful than expected— that is, of course, if you exclude what’s been causing you to work overtime these past two weeks.

“I feel like I’ve been seeing you more often lately, attorney.”

Yeongdeungpo Police Station. Officer Jung tries to entertain you while waiting for Mark’s favorite mutt to get fished out of his cell. No shit, he’s been seeing you often. This is your third time this fucking week. “He didn’t get into any more trouble overnight, did he?”

“No, we made sure to put him in a single cell this time.” You sigh in relief. They should’ve done that the first fucking time. “Hey, attorney…this may be out of line, but—” 

“Then stay in line, officer.”

Maybe your neuroticism is finally slipping through your stiff mask. Your eyes flash up at Officer Jung. He appears taken aback at first, but nods, smiling, and maintains a respectful distance. Sure, he’s hot and all, but you have no intention of hooking up with a cop just to put your career, life, and safety in jeopardy. Mark has eyes everywhere. You’re pretty sure he even has a handful of the officers here under his control.

“Damn. My guardian angel came early today,” 

Enter the bane of your existence itself. He wears an annoying grin on his face while being escorted to you, free from handcuffs meaning he can with his hands whatever he pleases— which, unfortunately, is sticking a middle finger up in the air when the guy that he got into an altercation with passes by, and a second fight almost breaks out while you dumb ass of a, executive just cackles like a madman as the second guy gets held back by the officer escorting him.

You do nothing but yank on the sleeve of his arm, nails digging into fabric and the skin underneath. You’re not strong enough to dislocate him, but by god you wish you were. “Thank you, officer. We’re heading out now.”

Officer Jung smiles at you. “I’d say I hope to see you again, but I doubt you’d want to drive up here for the fourth time this week.”

“Haha.” It’s eight in the evening. You’re tired as fuck.

The moment you succeed in dragging him out of the station to avoid another count of misdemeanor, you wipe your hand on your blazer and quickly march to your car, not even checking if he’s following when you rip open the driver’s seat of your car and slam it back close. Unfortunately, he shoves himself into the front seat before you can lock it. 

“Whew,” he says, buckling himself in. You look at him through the mirror. He’s leaned against the window and his torso is pointed towards you. “Want me to take over the wheel?”

The rev of the engine. You hear Na Jaemin scoff and turn his head away.

“Tough crowd.” He props up an elbow on the window ledge, cheek resting on closed knuckles as you continue to drive to the office when you’ve clocked out three hours ago. “You were pretty chummy with that cop earlier. If I remember, the fucker is the same prick who jumps out of station to wag his tail in front of you whenever you drop by.” 

God, you don't have time for this. You block your ears. You continue driving. You just want to go home, but Na Jaemin isn’t done pissing you off yet.

“You’re pretty amazing aren’t’cha, attorney? That why it only takes a second for you to get us all out?”

Screeeeech!

“Whoa. You’re finally looking at me for once.”

That’s fucking it. You’re not dealing with his shit anymore.

“Get out.” With all this and that damned death threat letter you received, you haven’t exactly been in the most amicable mood. “Get out of my fucking car.”

Yet somehow, Na Jaemin just starts grinning wider in response to your death glare. “But the office is too far away, attorney.” You click your tongue, grip tightening on the steering wheel as you leer away. It’s the dead of night. You’ve pulled over next to a closed laundromat. Your body still refuses to look at the psycho next to you directly. One day, you swear you’re going to rip him apart. 

“Do I look like I give a fuck?”

“Well, I wouldn’t know.”

Your car lets out a loud honk when you slam your forehead into the car horn, breaking the peaceful quiet of the night. “Ugh.” You release a breath,the sound rasping against your throat. One day, you’re going to kill him. One day.

‎*‎

“Damn, attorney. You look like shit.”

The next morning, Lee Haechan interrupts your coffee break by being an asshole. 

“There’s no one worth looking hot for in this dump.”

“Now, I think that’s what you call a hasty generali—”

“Haechan, I don’t want to fuck you.” His face is a stiff smile, just on the verge of cracking from a fatal injury. You step aside to give him space on the coffee machine, swallowing an almost scalding gulp of your drink. Come to think of it, Na Jaemin isn’t the only idiot you’ve fished out of the police station. “Hey. Hold on. I have a bone to pick with you, bitch.”

Haechan’s mug makes a rattling noise when he prematurely drops it onto the counter. You see a trail of sweat trickle down his neck. “What do you mean?”

“You nearly ran someone over the other day,” you start. “If I have to bail you out for another DUI, you’ll be seeing your car in a landfill.”

They’re so lucky that none of their victims chose to press charges. Thinly veiled threats usually allow you to settle with a compromise for the barest minimum amount for the damages they incur, but your words won’t always work. Still. It seems like Mark doesn’t mind pouring out whatever amount of money to save his valued lap dogs. These mutts are so god damned spoiled.

“Monster! Don’t you dare touch my Penelope!”

You wanna bully him for naming his porsche Penelope, but that’d make you a hypocrite. You don’t want to give up the remaining integrity you have left, so you choose to remain silent instead and finish up your coffee. 

At the same time, you notice a third presence enter the breakroom, and you make the unfortunate decision of peering back, just in time to find Lee Jeno looming behind you. You nearly choke on your coffee. “‘Scuse me,” he says, voice low, and you waste no time scrambling to the side and coughing your lungs out.

Haechan talks to him while the latter pulls out a back container from the cupboards. “Hey, man. How’s the Daeghwang contract going?”

At that question, Jeno’s brows close together and you flinch when he replies with an annoyed grunt. “Bad.” He taps the open mouth of the container against the rim of a glass of water, white powder cascading out. “Cheongang is a pain in the ass.”

“That’s rough. Well, good luck. See you later."

He starts leaving with the glass and you can finally get back to breathing. Seriously. Na Jaemin may scare you and piss you off, but this guy is just intimidation incarnate.

“Hey, what was his fucking deal?” Your voice is both fear-stricken and appalled, pointing at the break room entryway the moment Lee Jeno’s shadow disappears from the floor. “Did I do something to him? He looked like he was gonna punch my teeth out for getting in the way of him and his creatine!”

Haechan has finally finished making his coffee. Instant coffee, which he brings up to his mouth to take a sip. What was the point of giving him way to the machine? “Oh, Jeno? That’s just his face. Don’t worry about it.”

“What?”

He shrugs. “He’s a nice guy, but Mark likes to bring him around when he’s out doing business. Adds to the aura.”

The fuck? Well. Now that you poke into your brain, you finally remember why Lee Jeno had seemed oddly familiar when you were introduced to him. That day you found out your (former) literati, over the bar crush was actually a fucking gang leader who’s actually kind of crazy. Jeno was the one with Mark carrying that big, suspicious duffel bag. That makes sense.

“He doesn’t look like it, but he’s actually very diligent and organized. He’s basically Mark’s secretary.” 

This is very hard to wrap your head around, but maybe you’re just being too judgmental. Huh. If this is the case, then Mark has formed a pretty well rounded inner circle for him. Lee Jeno’s the one helping him make sure the oil keeps running, pretty much an all-rounder. Huang Renjun deals with Nalkeutta’s external partnerships. Now, all this makes you wonder—

“Then…what about Na Jaemin?”

There’s a flicker in Haechan’s eyes. He looks at you, eyes peeking above his coffee mug, and you don’t break your gaze. “Curious?” he hums, setting it down onto the counter behind him. “What about me? Don’t you wanna ask about what my role is?”

“I already know that you’re a desperate son of a bitch. What else do you do?”

“God damn, you never hold back.” You know he manages most of the internal affairs. Gratified HR, but you don’t want to grant him the satisfaction that you give a fourth of a shit. “Jaeminnie’s our clean-up dog. Mark knows how to put his maw to good use.”

Clean-up dog. Hah. 

“If there’s anyone Mark needs to be beaten half to death, Jaemin’s the man for the job. The guy basically lives off of the adrenaline he gets from fighting. I think the money is just secondary to him, but who knows. Mark likes to keep him busy with chasing down debtors or else he’d take it out on the nearest Nalkeutta member within arms reach. He seems like a lazy prick, but he’s actually pretty competent and meticulous. Only when blood and bruises are involved, of course.” 

Now, that makes you feel like absolute crap. Not for him, but for you— finding out that you and a psycho have been relegated to essentially the same demeaning position, one judicially and the other extrajudicially. That’s a dig into your pride. It leaves a sourly bitter taste on your tongue, and you don’t even have any coffee left to wash it down.

“Well. That is until someone pisses him off. Then things get pretty messy,” Haechan continues with a drawl, checking out his fingernails. Then his eyes flicker up, tipping his head back to flash you a grin. “Which has been more than often lately. He’s been getting into a lot of unrelated fights and trouble. Wonder why.”

Your mouth folds up into a sneer. “Talk about yourself, you serial drunk driver.”

“Let me take you out on a spin with my Porsche next time, attorney. It’ll be fun.”

“And fucking die? No thanks.”

“Aww, cmon! I promise you’ll get the rush of the century, babe, you won’t regret—”

Swoosh!

Thwack!

“Ow, hey, what the the fuck!”

You jump back, gaze darting down to check out the flying object that was punted into Haechan’s temple right. You snicker. It’s a vape pen. You’re about to thank the culprit until you actually find out who it is: lo and behold, Na Jaemin at the break room entrance, looking as smug as ever, and he successfully ruins your day at nine in the morning. “Whoops,” he says, sauntering up to you both, ducking down to swipe the vape pen off the floor before holding it back up. He’s not looking at you. He’s looking at Haechan. “Hand slipped.”

Haechan’s expression gets twisted. “Oh, you wanna go?” The gap between them closes. Uh-oh. Time to find an opening to leave. “Been a while since our last fight, Jaems.”

“Yeah, you mean the day I used your fucking face as a windshied wiper? Was it fun? Wanna try it again, you little bitch?”

“If you idiots wanna paint the carpet red, let me leave first—”

“No, wait.”

Haechan grabs onto your arm. He beams. 

“We need a referee.”

And that’s how you got held hostage for a dog fight at the parking lot of your company building. It’s not even noon yet. These fuckers need to get sedated.

You question your existence as Haechan and Jaemin warm up, a considerable amount of distance between each other. Why are you even here? “I’ll make sure to give you a show, attorney.” You stare dead forward at the empty space in between, face not looking particularly entertained. And then he shrugs off his jacket, revealing his tank-topped chest, and you choke on your spit. His face lights up at your coughing fit. “Keep your eyes on m—”

Thwack!

“Whoops.”

Oh, what the fuck, you blink and all of a sudden Haechan has lunged forward to sock him straight in the kisser.

“Hand slipped.” Haechan draws back his arm, grinning. Oh shit. You’re unable to see the entirety of Na Jaemin’s face. His head is turned, eyes covered up by his hair. You watch as he hacks up his throat to spit out a blotch of red on the concrete ground. For a second there, you think he’s pissed.

Then he lifts up his head, revealing the crooked, blood-stained grin on his teeth.

“You been practicing for me, Donghyuckie?”

This guy just got punched. He just got punched in the face and he’s smiling. 

That’s when things start getting uglier and you’re forced to watch two grown men brawl as their favorite pastime. Wow, they’re just going at it. Haechan lands another hook into Jaemin’s jaw and he quickly jumps away before the former can grab onto him. From what you can tell, Haechan’s a very sneaky fighter, retreating after every strike— almost as if he’s buzzing around Na Jaemin and nipping at him like a mosquito 

“Oi.” Na Jaemin’s jaw is tight. “There’s no fun in this. Get over here.”

“Whoa!” Haechan manages to dodge another one of Jaemin’s attempts to grab at him. “No thanks!” 

Yeah. Now Na Jaemin is definitely getting pissed. You can almost see the vein popping out of his neck when Haechan fails to duck quick enough, allowing Jaemin to grab a fistful of his hair. Haechan lets out a pained grunt when Jaemin yanks his head down, allowing full access to his face— allowing you to witness the blood drain from Haechan’s face in real time, at the very moment.

“Quit running away, you fuckin’ rat.” 

Jaemin winds his arm back. You squeeze your eyes shut. And then you hear the sound of a fist hitting bone.

“That’s more like it.”

Jesus, his voice is nothing but pure elation. That’s it. You’ve seen enough of this demon’s madness to conclude that Haechan had just lost. This is where they differ— Na Jaemin doesn’t like fighting. He likes watching the willpower drain from his opponents eyes after each blow until they’re back and blue and have lost the will to live. A textbook sadist. The moment Na Jaemin has you in his grasp, you’re as good as a dead man. And that much is obvious with how much Haechan is struggling to get out of his grip without ripping a chunk of his hair off.

He looks like he’s having the time of his life “Grit your teeth, buddy.”

Haechan responds with a nervous laugh, dangling half on the floor. “Hey, man, I thought we were just sparring for fun, yeah? Let’s take it easy, ok— oof!”

Aaaaand, that’s your cue to stop watching. If the roles were reversed, then maybe you’d be more interested. You’ve seen this show and multiple encores back in high school already. So while they’re busy killing each other, you quietly sneak off to your car just a few parking spots away to retouch your lipstick. Maybe grab a snack from the glove compartment. Anything other than this mess, for sure.

Anything. Yeah, nevermind. Maybe not anything because the moment you reach your car, you notice something stuck on your windshield wipers.

There’s a wrinkly slip of paper there.

When you fold it open, it’s revealed to be a mortuary pamphlet. There’s scrawl all over it. Red marker. Count your fucking days, attorney. Wow. Not very up for interpretation. Does this fucker think you’re fourteen?

“Hey.”

You flinch. You turn your head back. You’re not sure how long you’ve been standing here, but apparently long enough for Lee Haechan to gather a collection of blood and bruises as he tries and fails to wiggle out of Na Jaemin’s grip.

The latter isn’t even looking at him. He looks at you as he jerks Haechan back to his knees.

“What’s the matter?”

It’s only now that you notice your hands are shaking. You hiss out a swear and crumple the sheet in the tight lump and stuff it into your slack pockets. “Some bastard left their trash on my car,” you grunt, stomping away from your car and back up to them. “Anyway, are you two done playing? Unlike you two, I have a semi-normal job here and still have work to do.”

“Not until you declare the winner, attorney.”

Na Jaemin finally decides to let the poor guy go. Haechan gets dropped to the ground with a thump, groaning in obvious pain. You look down at him, sighing. “Why’d you even provoke him if you were gonna lose anyway?”

Yeah, you’re not giving Na Jaemin the satisfaction. Haechan lets out a breath and a laugh as he settles on the parking lot floor, propped up by his elbows. “I thought I’d stand a chance toda.” He cracks at you. “But it seems like my plan backfired. Too bad.”

Although you refused to declare Na Jaemin the winner, it seems like his fight with Haechan was enough to pacify him for a while.

Seems like the bastard had his fill. You didn’t get any phone calls from Mark or the station nor did you receive any more threatening death threats over the weekend. It’s great. You hit 10,000,000g in Stardew and will soon have the same amount in your bank account. Monday rolls around again though, and you have to spend the entire day out of office to join Mark and Jeno for the Daehgwang meeting. 

It’s so peaceful. The thorns in your side have been so well behaved. Haechan’s porsche got seized by the government because he forgot to pay last month, meaning he no longer has a vehicle to drive under the influence with. Na Jaemin hasn’t even gotten into another altercation.

At least not for the past three days.

On Tuesday evening, you get another ring from the station. 

“It was a 5v1,” Na Jaemin informs you, grinning with a new busted lip on top of his bruises from Haechan. “I won.”

This time, you drive off before he could even get into your car.

‎*‎

“I swear to god, Renjun, it’s like he gets off from getting handcuffed and ruining lives.”

Renjun is your favorite Nalkeutta member so far. Meaning, he’s the unfortunate soul that’s stuck with hearing your whines and complaints over a jenga game in his office. It didn’t take much to convince him into joining you to get paid for goofing around on company time— however, you didn’t exactly advertise having to be your unpaid therapist for the time being.

“Who are you talking about again?” he asks after pulling out a successful block from the tower.

“Na Jaemin.” You crane your neck, squinting at the remaining blocks for an opening. “Does he die if he can’t get into trouble with law enforcement once a week or some shit? God dammit, this tower is tight.”

You’ve always known he was a sadistic fuck since high school. But you thought that only extended to physical pain. Apparently he has a penchant for inflicting psychological pain as well. “Uh-uh, sure he got into messes before— try that one.” You prod on the block he points at until it becomes loose. “But he wasn’t always this bad.”

The block slides out. You put it back on top and sit straight. “Haechan said something like that too.” Your brows furrow. “What exactly do you guys mean by that?”

Renjun shrugs, poking around the block tower. “He’d usually get into fights outside the job like twice a month max.”

He pulls out the wrong block. The tower collapses on the coffee table.

“I think it was around the time you joined that he got worse.”

It clicks. You understand now.

“Hey, let’s play again, that was a— wait, where are you going?”

You storm out of his office and stomp into your own. Na Jaemin doesn’t get off from ruining lives in general— it seems like he gets a special kick out ruining yours in particular. Fuck’s sake. You thought he was just a lunatic for getting into bar fights thrice a week. Apparently being his high school alarm clock for two years wasn’t enough. He needs you to contract occupational depression too. 

Inside your office now. You bang a hand into your desktop keyboard because the printer is taking too long to vomit out the shitty piece of paper. You rip it out from its mouth and march into Ganghak Division, heels clicking against the tile— a sound most have already attributed to your presence, but this time so, so loudly that heads turn at each hollow clack— and the sound halts the moment you see one of his employees that you’ve flagged as a pushover the moment he’d been admitted here.

“Park Sion.” You grab him by the shoulder. “Is your dickhole of a boss in?”

He flinches and blinks his wide open eyes at you, gulping. “Y—yes?”

You grunt and push past him, printout in hand. You spot the door that has a frosted glass window in the middle. You make a beeline and kick it open with a loud bang!

“What in the name of fuck—”

The words get cut out from Na Jaemin’s throat the moment you lock eyes, and the pissed off expression on his face gets replaced by the cold splash of surprise and something you don’t give a fuck to decipher. 

“A—attorney.” He clears his throat and tries to scramble himself back together. “Wow. Came to give a little visit?”

There’s someone else in the room— another Ganghak high schooler, standing straight and firm and nervous before his desk with a deck of papers pressed to his chest. You click your tongue barrel forward, shoving yourself between them and slam the piece of paper on his desk, a huff escaping your nostrils as you stare him down with the animosity of a thousand suns. He’s still a little shell-shocked, brows uplifted and eyes blinking before he looks down and slides the paper up to him.

“I hate your fucking guts,” he reads out your message printed in Cambria 14. You smile when he looks up from the page to meet your stare. It hurts your cheeks. Then you spin your heels and may your merry way out of his office in the best mood you’ve ever been since getting here— and this change of demeanour is very much noticed by every single Nalkeutta member that you walk past, turning heads of both horror and concern as you hum back to Huang Renjun’s territory.

Renjun turns his head to the door when you knock and swing it open.

“Whew.” You fall back onto his office sofa, causing his newly built jenga tower to tumble down. “Shit, that was cathartic. I needed that.” 

He stares at his fallen tower, a somber expression on his face. “Are you gonna share it with the class?”

You do, in fact, share it with the class alongside your hypothesis that Na Jaemin hates your particular guts to the point that he’s actively making your living hell. Renjun is attentive throughout your whole rant session— nodding along to your cries and swears while he rebuilds your tower, and he places the last block on top just in time for you to finally run out of steam. “I swear to god, he has it out for me, Renjun” you finish off with a huff, sinking deeper into his sofa.

That in itself is bad, but apparently it could get worse.

“He could be doing it because he hates you, sure,” he starts, prodding into the newly built tower. “But have you considered the opposite?”

Because Huang Renjun injects a truly horrifying idea inside your head.

“What?”

He hums, locking into the middle piece at the very bottom of the stack. 

“I’m not sure you’ve noticed, but on the days you give Jaemin the slightest bit of tolerant attention he doesn’t act out.”

He, then, slides the piece out.

“And whenever you flat out ignore him for the entire day, I get a colorful text from you that Na Jaemin is in a holding cell again and you’re on the way driving to get him out.”

He takes it into his hand—

“Maybe he’s just doing it to get your attention.”

—and finally sets it on top of the tower to restart the game.

“Your turn.”

You’re frozen in your seat. You carefully think back to all the times you’ve been plagued to bail him out— the first time, which was the night of the recruitment bullshit, and you did talk to him then. Granted it was to insult his smoking habits, but that completely debunks Renjun’s theory right? How about the other times— like the day after the first incident and you were far too pissed to even give him the light of day— wait. Wait. 

No fucking way. Did you see him the day you left with Mark and Jeno to deal with the Daeghwang contract? You did pass him by, but why the fuck would you have greeted him? Shit. Oh my god. This is the most depraved shit you’ve ever been cursed to consider and you’d once debated offing a man just to win a court case. 

You don’t want to believe it. There’s no fucking way.

So, you put it to the test first thing in the morning to make sure that Huang Renjun is nothing but a delusional fuck who just wants you paranoid.

You walk out of Mark’s office with him after a quick discussion on how to strengthen their loan contracts. He asks if you’ve been getting enough sleep lately and the answer to the question is in the very same hallway that you’re passing through, walking the opposite direction as the both of you.

“Jaemin-ah, good morning,” Mark greets him. The guy only stifles a grunt in reply before turning his attention to you.

You look at him. Not at him, but on the silver chain hanging around his neck because you don’t feel very brave at the moment. “Good morning, Na Jaemin-ssi.” Then you immediately scuttle away, leaving a nonplussed yet still pleasant demeanored Mark behind to catch up with you and bounce for coffee.

That entire day, you wait for a phone call from the station to arrive.

Night comes. You’re about to go to bed. Your phone does not make a single buzz. Nothing. 

You’re horrified. You’re really, truly horrified.

Listen, you’ve never been dense to a man’s advances. You’re not stupid. You know when someone has a crush on your because always a standard operating procedure, the cut and dry tactics of trying to take you out for a meal or a drink, calling you pretty, or whatever the fuck. No one fucking flirts by violating the law multiple times a week just so you’d pick him up from the police station. So, you can’t exactly be blamed when you never saw this coming.

This singular thought plagues you for the rest of the week. So much so, that you don’t exactly trust yourself driving almost an hour over the weekend to Gyeonggi to meet up with some friends from law school, so you take public transportation instead. 

The problem is, you couldn’t even enjoy your fucking brunch because they kept asking why you quit JSS, so all you could think about is all the men that have plagued you to ruination— one bastard standing out in particular.

“Seriously, is he a fucking lunatic or something?”   

“Who’s the fucking lunatic or something?”

You’d been waiting at the bus stop on the way back to Yeongdeungpo when a convertible you don’t recognize pulls over, but the person sitting in the driver’s seat definitely is. Your face sours. Then dread washes over.

“Heard from Mark that you needed a ride,” Haechan tips down his sunglasses, smiling. “Hop in. Let me take you out for a spin on my new baby, attorney. It’ll be fun.”

Oh no. Fuck. Your days of relative peace from the police are over. You need to hire someone to wreck this orange-painted nightmare before you’re forced to deal with an inevitable hit and run case. This thing is an accident waiting to happen. It needs to fucking go.

Not right now, though. You do need a ride. 

“Mind stopping by a pharmacy first? I think I’m having fucking indigestion.”

You also need to know where he parks this thing. You take a few steps back and snap your phone camera at his license plate before hopping in the car. “Why? Shitty date?” he hums, starting up the engine. “I can do you one better, sweetheart.”

“Shut the fuck and drive or else I’ll be needing more than just antacids.”

“Gotchu.”

It’s not that being a stuck-up bitch is your default. It’s just that you know better than to get yourself entangled into Nalkeutta more than you already are especially when the one thing you’re looking for is an out. The both of you make a stop at the nearest pharmacy in Gyeonggi and you pick up your medicine. Outside the store, Haechan spots a small hotteok stand to bribe you to hang out with him a bit more before heading back to Yeongdeungpo.

Ugh. You don’t wanna get back in there. That’s where Na Jaemin is and lately he’s been mentally perturbing you more than pissing you off or scaring you. You take a bite into the warm snack and start talking with a semi-full mouth. “By the way. Renjun told me something interesting.”

“Yeah, what’s up?” he muffles out. 

“That Na Jaemin deliberately gets into trouble to get my attention,” you flatly say, looking at the syrup you just wiped off your mouth before licking it off. “I need a dissenting opinion or else I might actually go clinically insane.”

“Oh, you just noticed?” he says, walking back to his car and you follow. “Everyone in the office knows he has a crush on you. It’s pretty obvious.” 

Well. No dissenting opinion. Guess you’ll have to go insane.

“I thought bringing you to our fight the other day would distract his messed up brain. But apparently the sick fuck just got more excited knowing that you were watching. He got bored when you went back into the office. I really should’ve known better.”

“Wait, if you knew that your insane friend has a fuckied up crush on me, then why have you been trying to hit on me in front of his face?”

The both of you get back into the car. Haechan spares you a glance and a grin.

“It’s funny,” he cackles. The car starts moving. Slower than you expected. It’s surprising that this guy is actually receptive to feedback, but you appreciate it nonetheless. “I never get a reaction out of him otherwise. And, I gotta correct you about something, attorney. There are no friends in Nalkeutta.”

There’s a soft breeze brushing past your ears. You peer at him, a tug on your lips. “So, we’re not friends?” 

You almost snort seeing the way his shoulders flinch. The first time you speak to him without an ounce of venom, this idiot folds.

“I thought we’d gotten closer recently, Haechan.”

There’s no missing the way his ears flare up despite keeping his eyes on the road. God, this is pretty funny. The reason why you’re not as creeped out by the idea that another one of your co-workers harbors a petty crush on you despite the fact that they’re both demented and violent is simply because one has singlehandedly turned your last two years of highschool into a traumatic hell while also not giving enough of a fuck to remember the trauma he caused, and the other has not. 

Still, you’re not indulging Lee Haechan any more than this because you still have some self respect. You wanna continue dicking around with this newfound power a bit more, but your high is quickly shut down by a shiver down your spine.

You jolt in your seat. Your eyes flash to the rearview. There’s a taxi trailing behind. 

“Haha, have—have we gotten closer…? I thought you were more friends with Renjun, and—”

“Haechan, turn right.”

“What? That’s not the route ba—”

“Just fucking do it.”

With a concerned yet suspicious furrow of his brow, Haechan obliges your abrupt request, and what do you know— the moment you guys make a turn, the vehicle behind you does the same. “Now, make another right.” Your narrowed eyes remain fixed on the back mirror. “Left. Keep going.” 

Your companion isn’t dull. He notices the same thing as you do at the third nonsensical turn. You hear him click his tongue, feigning annoyance, but no form of play pretend could even attempt to hide the wicked grin sprawling on his face in excitement.

Ah, shit. You instinctively clutch onto the seat belt straps as if you’re holding onto your dear life. “Hey, attorney,” he starts, shifting pedals. “Hold on tight.”

What the hell does it look like you’re doing? 

The blazing hiss of rubber screeching against asphalt. This might very well be the day you die.

‎*‎

“C’mon, it’s been two weeks! Are you still mad?”

Yes. It’s been two weeks since your latest near death experience and it wasn’t even at the hands of your stalker, whom you managed to shake off thanks to Haechan, but the fact that these very past two weeks was spent trying to settle with his fucking hit and run victim has clearly pulverized any semblance of gratefulness you felt towards him.

Right now, he’s trying to win your forgiveness over by dropping a box of macarons from the new bakery in the district onto your lovely desk Savannah. You flip the box open as aggressively as you can and rip apart the unfortunate pink cookie with your teeth while you stare at him dead in the eye. He flinches. He tries to form a smile but it’s all crooked and nervous. “Sooo…are we good now?”

You finish up the remnants of your first victim and pull open your drawer, and Haechan watches as you take out a few staples pieces of paper before handing it to him.

“What’s this?” 

He opens his mouth first before reading. You marvel at the decline of man’s average intelligence.

“It’s a contract,” you hum. “Sign it, and I’ll hang out with you again.”

“Oh, sweet!” he enthuses and fishes out a pen from your variety assortment, setting the sheet down onto the polished mahogany surface. He’s already started the first stroke of his legally binding signature when he actually inquires into the nature of the contract. “You should’ve just given this to me days ago, damn I even went to— wait. What’s this about impounding my car?”

You quickly try to snatch the paper back, but Haechan may be dumber than you but he is stronger. He quickly flits back to the first page, squinting at the fine print very close to his face, and after a moment of realization, he jerks his arms down to release a horrified gasp.

“Evil! Evil woman!” He points an accusatory finger. “How could you attempt to do this to me and my Josephine?!”

His curses fall on deaf ears. You remove a bushel of lint from your blaze lapels and flick it off into a corner of your office. “I think it’s a fair agreement,” you languidly say. “We get to be friends for so long as you refrain from getting into another traffic accident. Otherwise, say goodbye to your dearest Josephine.”

“No!”

A knock on your door interrupts the tantrum you caused. It gets quiet. A head peeks in. It’s Mark.

“Are you two busy?” he asks, likely having heard your…conversation from outside. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

Immediately, you shift your attention away from the high speeding demon and straighten your back towards your boss. “Not at all. What’s the matter?”

Haechan quietly greets him as well in a grumble, stepping aside in order to surrender his spot in front of your desk to Mark. “Oh, it’s not at all a source of worry,” he assures with a hum. “It’s just that, it’s been over a month since you’ve graced Nalkeutta with your expertise, but we haven’t even thrown you a welcome party yet. Things have indeed been hectic with our clients one top with our ongoing problem with Cheongang, yet these issues aren’t justifications to prevent your warm welcome.”

There’s a smile on Mark’s face. Oh no. You know where this is going and despair befalls over your face.

See, you’re not exactly against company dinners. Back in JSS, it was a regular opportunity to get your bosses and partners blackout drunk so they don’t remember you recording their not-very-proud moments. But right now, you’re not exactly keen on going home late considering your whole stalker death threat situation.

“I already booked a bar near the bridge. Let’s all take the evening off.”

Well. Now that there’s no way out of this, all you can do is hope that today isn’t your due date yet.

Evening comes, and you’re suffered to be in Na Jaemin’s presence again. He’s in the company car that Mark ushers you into, sitting in the front seat next to Jeno and you two make a split second of eye contact through the mirror before stumbling into the car seat with an annoyed grunt. God, you’ve been so busy these past two weeks that you weren’t even given the chance to stress about him. Now you’re trapped with him for the rest of the night with little to know chance to escape.

Throughout the drive, you contemplate faking sickness again but unfortunately you never got the opportunity to set it up, so you just come up with your roster of excuses in case the amount of men inside the lounge starts becoming noxious to you.

“Cheers!”

The moment drinks start rolling in, they’re cheering for your name and title—- under duress, maybe, because it was preceded by a late welcome speech from the big boss himself. Mark pours you a drink and you’re obligated to swallow it down, burning your throat. Ugh. 

Obviously, not every Nalkeutta member is here right now. Aside from Mark and his four executives, two to three lower ranking members from each division have also been extended the invitation. You recognize Zhong Chenle from Hyeongshin and Na Jaemin’s favorite lackey, Park Jisung, held hostage by his boss in a torture chamber of shot after shot after shot.

“How are you holding up?” 

Renjun settles into the velvet seat next to you— unoccupied for the last hour because Haechan is still throwing a tantrum after your attempted vehicular slaughter, Na Jaemin maybe, finally took the eloquently worded message that you delivered the other week to heart, and the rest of Nalkeutta’s members are too intimidated to sit near the in-house lawyer that regularly stomps around in a flurry of swears throughout the office and your heel clicks harbors fear.

“Fantastic,” you deadpan, bringing the god rush you ordered to your lips. “I’m tipsy and cold and want nothing more than to knock myself out via head injury right now. You think if I announce that my period just arrived, they’d be too uncomfortable to stop me from leaving?”

“You’d probably succeed, but I don’t exactly recommend you leaving by yourself.”

“This is Nalkeutta’s territory, what kind of fucking idiot would try to jump me?”

“Well, things are precarious with Cheongang right now, and—”

You’re interrupted by a meek “Ex—excuse me,” from a Daehyeon subordinate. Lee Jeno’s subordinate. You look up and raise a brow at him. The guy’s face is embarrassed and he’s holding out a jacket. “The…the boss told me to give you this.” Your eyes flit down to the article, hanging sleeves barely brushing against the bare skin of your thighs that your pencil skirt is failing to cover, and you look up across the room to see the said co-worker conversing with Jaemin, now in a compression shirt when you could’ve sworn he was more covered up earlier. 

Again, you briefly meet eyes with Jaemin. You cough and look away, accepting the jacket with a thank you before the grunt scurries away. Then you recall Haechan’s words. He’s a nice guy. Man, if only you went to Daehyeon in high school, you’d probably be a lot saner today. 

“Anyway, as I was saying,” Renjun continues. “It’s a little dangerous right now and those guys are just across the bridge. They could be loitering around nearby.”

“Hey, I’ll be fine, I don’t go around unarmed you know.” You adjust the newly acquired cover on your lap. “Well. Maybe I do have something to worry about considering there’s a creepy stalker threatening to kill me.”

It’s like the entire room screeches into a tense halt.

“What?” Haechan finally decides to grow up and talk to you, marching up to your side of the lounge with a knitted look. “What do you mean stalker?” 

The repetition of the word attracts everyone’s attention if your first utterance hadn’t already. Drinks stop pouring. You notice eyes on you— particularly from across the room, which you promptly brush off to entertain Haechan’s question. “Oh, you know the day you ran over that grocery owner? The one I had to beg just so he wouldn’t sue you?”

“Yeah, I fucking know, but what do you mean you’re being stalk—” It hits him. “Fuck. The taxi. I thought it was just another one of my enemies training me!”

“Attorney, is this true?” Mark finally enters the conversation, uncharacteristically concerned. “And did you say this person is threatening to kill you?”

You meant to say it as a self deprecating joke. You didn’t expect these guys to actually clock your words and take you seriously.

“Attorney?”

You don’t answer verbally. Instead you grab your purse and pull out the envelope that’s been cozying up in there since you first got it. You set its contents down on the table for everyone to see, followed by the mortuary pamphlet you retrieved from your windshield. “This one was attached to my car in the company parking lot, but I’m pretty sure it’s a personal vendetta and has nothing to do with Nalkeutta, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

It’s disappointing, but this is all you have. There are no texts or phone calls. You have nothing on this bastard but a letter and a note.

Mark’s holding up the letter. You notice the pamphlet wrinkle in between Haechan’s fingers. “When did you get this?”

“Uhhh, the day Na Jaemin beat the shit out of you?”

“God fucking dammit.” He tosses it back to the table and throws his hands in the air before stomping off in frustration. Renjun scolds him and gives the note back to you, and you promptly fold it to return to your purse, along with the letter Mark offers back to you.

“There’s security cameras there,” he says. “Have you checked them yet?”

“I did and he was masked and covered up. Same with the footage from my building. I checked in with my landlady the day after I received the note at my doorstep, and she wasn’t around when it happened.” 

“He knows where you live?!”

“Jesus,” Renjun breathes out. “You’re practically buddies with the cops at the station, why didn’t you report it?” 

You simply sigh in your seat and set your purse aside. Honestly, you’re getting annoyed. Do they think you’re fucking stupid? Do they think you’re just letting this freak run around because you want to? Fucking ridiculous. “There’s barely any evidence to identify him, much less to penalize him for anything more than a fine and a warning. I thought I’d wait until I have enough under my belt to ensure a final conviction.”

“And continue risking your life? Are you fucking stupid?”

It’s Na Jaemin who says that.

He’s still sitting in the same spot as earlier, unmoving from his seat across the lounge, staring at you with a weight that practically digs into flesh and bone. Your jaw clenches. You ignore his insult with a roll of your eyes and you down the remaining half of your cocktail.

“This isn’t something we can just take lightly, attorney,” Mark tells you as though he’s genuinely concerned, but you call bullshit. He just doesn’t like the idea of losing his safety net from the law. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Your brows twitch. You firmly set the glass down on the mess of a table. “It seemed personal,” you answer, pointedly. “I didn’t think it concerned the company. That’s all.”

There’s quiet. You don’t look up from your seat, pouring yourself another drink. There’s a ticking in your ear. You’re frustrated. A groan scratches out of your throat and you quickly try to wash it down with a lean glass of whiskey, but Renjun manages to snatch it out of your hands with a disappointed click of his tongue before you succeed with your attempt. 

You snap your head at him. “What the hell are you doing?” 

“Maybe you should call it a night,” says, taking out his phone. “What’s your address? I’ll book an Uber.”

“He’s right, but you shouldn’t go alone,” Mark interjects. You look at him like he’s vomiting out shit from his mouth. He ignores it and instead turns back— gaze directed to the set of seats across the room. “Jaemin, make sure she makes it back home safely.”

“What?” Your voice is a shriek. You jolt onto your feet. “I understand you’re trying to look out for your employee, but why does it have to be him?”

 Na Jaemin is already pulling on a jacket. Your bite down your lip. You already have one crazy asshole knowing where you live. You don’t need another one.

“He’s the only one capable and hadn’t had anything to drink.”

“What about Renjun!”

The man in question looks the slightest bit sorry and embarrassed. “Listen, I don’t wish upon your death, attorney, but if that threat comes tonight, I can’t protect you. I already told you that I don’t fight.”

Fucking hell. You deflate like a balloon. Mark takes your lack of further complaints as surrender and nods at Jaemin, who promptly starts ushering you out of the reserved room. “I already know that you fucking hate my guts, attorney, but now’s not the time to be picky.”

“Just take your damned orders as is like a good dog and don’t fucking talk to me.”

Frankly, you’re heated right now. That entire situation was patronizing. You can’t stomach being treated like some goddamn helpless bitch who can’t handle her own dirty laundry when you’ve been cleaning up for them for most of your fucking career. You just need time. You just need enough cards and opportunities to fuck this stalker over. It’s not beyond your capabilities. It’s not something you need a dysfunctional circus gang to fix for you.

Thankfully, your guard dog doesn’t try to pick a fight throughout the uber ride home. He’s garnered enough tact this past week to figure out your sour mood.

It’s just as quiet when you finally arrive at your building. Na Jaemin follows you all the way to the entrance. The key remains slotted into the doorhole, unturned. “What are you doing?”

You hear him scoff from beside you. “Doing my fucking job like a good dog. Your stalker left the love letter on your doorstep. You think I’d stop here?” 

“Ugh. Fine.”

Begrudgingly, you lead him up to your unit. The moment you reach the door, you spin your heels to look at him without exactly looking him in the eye. “Alright, we’re here and I’m alive and not dead. Now leave me al—”

You stop. You stop because just when you’re reaching out for your doorknob— almost relieved that you can finally rest and end the day with a shower and good night’s sleep— you notice dents on the metal that weren’t there before.

Na Jaemin notices the same thing. His brows are furrowed. He brushes your hand aside and the handle rattles with a twist. It’s unlocked. You didn’t leave it unlocked this morning. 

You remain glued to the hallway floor as you watch Na Jaemin open the door. 

The moment an opening cracks, he gets smashed on the head with your wooden counter stool and you let out a squeak and yell.

“Fucking hell!” 

“W—wait, you’re not—!”

He hisses in pain but takes less than a second to recover, grabbing onto one of the chair legs to jerk the entire thing back and reach out for the extended arm of the person wielding it before he could let go. You hear a fit of fighting grunts from inside. The chair gets dropped to the ground. Na Jaemin disappears into your apartment with the thrashing culprit, exchanging threats and swears, and it takes you a moment to get back to your senses, the thumping in your ears becoming less and less deafening, and you take your few steps inside.

To say the least, your living room is a mess.

The couch is tipped over. Your rug is in tatters. This fucker was gracious enough to spare your T.V., and your wide eyes immediately dart over to the center of it all— the sight of Na Jaemin pressing the struggling culprit against your once clean floors. 

“Fuck, let— go! Get the fuck off me! Agh—!”

“Shut the fuck up or I’ll break your fucking arms.” Na Jaemin nods his head up, not even budging. “Hey, attorney. You call the shots. What do you want me to do?”

You stare at the man underneath him— the man responsible for making the mess out of your apartment and everything that preceded this very moment. You look at his face, bunched up in rage and shame and frustration, and that’s when you recognize him: your last case at JSS. The sweet, sweet old lady you helped pen her will. The same will that disinherited her two prodigal sons. You met them before. Both of them, because your client wanted to break it to them personally even though she wasn’t legally obligated to, all because she’s such a kind person.

That same person gave birth to despicable trash like this one.

They weren’t happy to hear the news. And since their mother is still under the protection order you arranged, this guy decided that the next best thing to take his anger out on is the lawyer that helped his mother screw them over.

Na Jaemin is still waiting for your answer. The right thing to do would be to take him to the station, finally file the report so they could force an admission of guilt. There’s a CCTV camera in the hallway and even if he was covered up, there’s still clear evidence of breaking and entering on top of everything he’s done to torment you so far. That’s the right thing to do. The legal thing to do.

But right now, you’re simmering. 

No, fuck it, your blood is boiling. You shrug off your blazer and toss it as a new addition to your messed up apartment floor. You roll back your right shoulder. You take a few more steps forward, staring him down on the ground. “Hold him up,” you tell Na Jaemin. It takes a second for him to register your instruction. But when it does, you couldn’t even miss the wild grin that stretches on his face— even if you wanted to.

“Since you asked nicely,” he says with a lace of amusement, ignoring the bouts of protest from the guy when he lugs him up to his feet like a ragdoll, locking him in place with two arms, and leaving him open and vulnerable. 

The first thing you do is yank his chin up by the hair. It’s a sight to see— the sheer hatred and animosity someone is capable of mustering on their face, even when they’re at someone else’s mercy. 

It’s funny. You sneer. Then you grab the other side of his head and slam his nose into your knee.

“Fuck!”

“Son of a bitch.” You jerk his head back up, watching the blood dribble down from his nostrils. “Did you have fun pulling your dumb ass tricks?”

He lets out a pained groan, but still has the strength to shoot you a glare. You let go of his scalp to grab him by the collar so you can have a better grip of slapping him in the face.

Smack!

“Shit—”

“May life is already a living hell dealing with these Nalkeutta fuckers every single day—” 

Whack!

“And then your ugly ass rears in to make things all the more worse.”

Thwap!

“Your disinheritance is none of my fucking business.”

Slap!

“To think I was scared and paranoid for weeks and weeks and weeks because of some broke ass pathetic prick.”

Crack! Your bloodied fist draws back from his jaw. He sputters out a bubble of red. You’re practically holding him up by the stretched out collar of his shirt. 

“Hey,” you say, giving him a rattle. “What gives you the right to do all of that to me, huh? Huh?”

When he doesn’t answer, you feel a tick in your temple. You go in for another smack to his face, but it doesn’t happen.

“That’s enough.”

You’ve always thought that if Na Jaemin were to grab you by the wrist, he’d immediately snap it into two.

“You’re gonna regret it tomorrow.”

The shock from the gentle fitness of his grip sends you back to reality, and you finally feel the dull throb on the knuckles of your right hand, the sharp tingle on the skin of your palms that seeps into muscle and flesh. You let go of him. You see splotches of red all over, and the eventual sores and bruises that’ll show up by the morning. 

You call your landlady. Na Jaemin accompanies you to the station to turn your stalker in along with all the evidence you managed to acquire. Officer Jung questions the state of the perpetration, and when you chalk it up as self-defense, he doesn’t press further and simply wishes you a good rest. 

The moment you walk out into the lobby and see Na Jaemin waiting, you’re hit with an uncomfortable whiplash at the unprompted role reversal. You don’t fight him or anything when he takes you back home. All you could do was muster a quiet, “Thanks,” when he tells you that he sent over some Ganghak members to clean up the mess of your apartment in the hour and a half that you spent at the precinct.

“Mark says you don’t have to come in tomorrow,” he tells you before you go on.

“Wasn’t planning to,” is what you say before finally closing the door on him.

‎*‎

Unfortunately, Na Jaemin was right.

“Ow! Shit! Fuck me!”

You are, indeed, regretting your whole fit of violence right now— over your bathroom counter with your med kit sprawled open. Your hands are a mess. You bandage yourself up before attempting to make breakfast. The attempt ends with you hissing in pain every time you try to hold something with your right hand, so you end up ordering something to eat instead.

While waiting, you plop down on your down fixed couch to answer the flood of messages that had been coming in since last night. Mostly from Haechan. One text from Renjun checking in on you. The last few from Mark telling you to take as much time off as you need— paid, he emphasizes. His fluency in your way of communicating is starting to scare you. You tell him you’d be clocking in back to work tomorrow. 

A new notification comes in telling you that your order is almost here. You groan and peel yourself off the couch, grabbing a pair of slides from the entryway before twisting open your already unlocked door. 

The moment you breathe the hallway air, you’re met with another commotion.

“Get out! Go away!”

“Ma’am, I’m telling you I know the resident here, I’m just— ow!”

Thunk!

“Don’t you lie to me, I know Miss Attorney doesn’t have any friends or a boyfriend! Get out!”

You stop by the doorframe, taking in the sight of your middle-aged landlady beating the high and mighty Na Jaemin with a convenience store bought frying pan. He looks so distraught shielding himself with his arms, before finally noticing you, and his expression shifts. “Hey! Tell this woman to stop, I’ve been—”

Thwack!

 “Attorney!” your landlady greets you after landing another metal blow to Na Jaemin. “This weirdo has been loitering around your unit ever since I got here! Should we call the police?!”

Your eyes flit over to Jaemin. He looks annoyed and pissed and disgruntled, but apparently even someone like him won’t raise a hand against a woman old enough to be his mom. You stifle out a short sneer, then turn to your landlady with a smile. “Ahjumma, it’s alright, he’s my co-worker,” you assure. “He’s the one who helped me last night.”

You hear him scoff. “Oh,” your landlady gasps. “I’m so sorry, dear. You just looked awfully suspicious.” Then she quickly forgets about him to address you instead. “I already called a repairman to fix your broken door. They’ll be here before lunchtime.”

“Thank you. I’ll handle it from here!”

“Take care, dear. Have a lovely morning.”

When she goes off up the staircase, you look at the weirdo loitering around your unit. You cross your arms, brow raised. “What do you want?”

He stares you down, and you catch his mouth twitch when he lets out an incredulous huff. “Your damn landlady should get heating in the hallway. My back’s all sore and all I get in return is attitude,” he snarks. “Can’t believe you had a good night’s sleep even with your lock broken after the shit that went down. I don’t know if you’re brave or fucking stupid.”

You’re hit by a sudden pang against your chest. Oh. Oh. You notice he’s still wearing the same clothes as yesterday. You let his insult slide this time, telling him to follow you downstairs to pick up your food. It’s a good thing you ordered enough for two meals today. You don’t thank him. Instead, you invite him in for a doenjang-jjigae breakfast.

“Want coffee?”

“You gonna spit in it?” he chides from the dining table.

“Just say no, you prick,” you grunt, dragging out a pitcher of water from your fridge instead and slamming it down onto the table. You’re starting to second guess your act of gratitude. You should’ve just let your landlady beat him to death with the pan.

He pours water into the two empty glasses while you struggle to open the delivery bags and containers. You curse the plastic knot getting in the way of your doenjang-jjigae, hissing every time the plastic brushes against your still raw skin despite the bandages. Na Jaemin seems to notice your struggle because he clicks his tongue and snatches it from you to do it himself. Your face grows hot. Your pride is in tatters.

You two start eating in silence. God, this is so fucking awkward. “So, uh,” you try to crack it. “The food is…great…right…?”

“Cut the shit, attorney. Just spit it out.”

“Jeez, fine, alright,” you set your utensils down a little too aggressively, and you feel the sting deep within your palms. Your glare zeroes in on the spot on his head that you recall getting ambushed by your counter stool. “Is your head fine? It didn’t bleed or anything, right?”

He just shrugs and continues slurping down the soup. “I’ve had my head split open before. It’s no biggie.”

You stare at him. Was…was that supposed to be a brag? How many concussions has he had? Is that the reason why there’s a screw loose in there somewhere? He’s so fucking insane.

“You worried, or some shit?” He sets down his spoon to fish out a ply of tissue from the box on your table, dabbing away at the shit-eating smile on his face. “That’s cute. Does it mean you don’t hate my fucking guts anymore?”

The tofu you’re trying to eat stops midway into your throat. My god, you didn’t expect him to take that note so seriously. 

You swallow it down with water. “I just wanted to know if I had to reimburse you for any hospital bills,” you explain, somewhat defensive. “I still hate your fucking guts.” His past transgressions aside because he can’t even fucking remember them. “You were the shittiest and most stressful client I’ve ever had and I will hold this grudge until I die. I would’ve dropped your case if Mark’s very existence wasn’t a threat to my life.” All he does is cackle in response. You leer at him. “Fuck off, you treated me like crap then. I don’t get why you’ve been changing your tune lately. It’s throwing me off. Why the hell did you even help me?”

The ideas that Renjun and Haechan injected into your poor brain start to surface. Maybe he’s just doing it to get your attention. Everyone in the office knows he has a crush on you. You hope that’s not the case. You really hope it’s not— and now’s the opportunity to finally get the real answer.

Your heart is thumping like crazy waiting for Na Jaemin to open his dumb mouth. “Ah. The visiting room,” he starts, eyes wandering up like he’s reminiscing a pleasant memory. You don’t share the same sentiment and your expression sours. “I thought you were a pushover at first and it annoyed the hell out of me. Not a big fan of spinelessness and cowardice.”

Wow. You’re speechless. He’s this close to getting kicked out.

“But then you pulled me into that room during recess in court.” 

His eyes flicker over to you— forcing the eye contact that you’d always been running away from. The look on his face forces a lump in your throat. You gulp it down and feel a rattle in your bones. What is this? What’s his deal? Is he trying to fight? What in the name of—

“And then I realized just the kind of woman I was into.”

—fuck?

“Last night, too. But it would’ve been pretty inappropriate to tell you I was turned on considering the situation.”

You blink. You gape at him. You’re not sure if your face is steaming because of anger or embarrassment, so you chalk it up as both. 

“Get out.”

This is it. This is enough. It’s time to call it a day.

“Get out of my house.”

“I’m not done eating ye—”

You grab his glass of water and douse it over half-eaten stew, some of which spills and splatters over him. “Yes, you are. Out. Now.”

Na Jaemin lifts his brows and raises his hands up in surrender as he gets up from his chair without protest, an infuriating simper playing on his face, and it just all the more pisses you off. He makes a comment about your broken door lock before you tell him to fuck off and shove him out into the hallway, his cackles finally get muted the moment you slam the door into his face.

You press your back against the wood. You suck in a deep breath before releasing it as you slide down to the floor.

“This is nuts.”

Seems like you might need another day off. You text Mark that you’ll be coming in on Thursday instead.

fire and brimstone (and you’re a moth made of gasoline). © hannie-dul-set, 2025.

[demon-at-peace]

DP + DC

hi kinda forgot about Tumblr, anyhow I've got a idea, also swear I'll work on my Danny/Dick thing soon, sorry ya'll,

--

The magic users were scared. A being had taken the throne of the infinite realms, they said he called himself Phantom. So they searched for him, old documents, books, even the internet. they found him, Amity parks hero.

Then vigilante had vanished, as had one Daniel Fenton at the exact same time. The bats were paranoid, everyone knew that. They didn't believe in coincidences. This wasn't a coincidence. So since they had nothing on Phantom they looked into Daniel.

He was missing even had a untouched file at the police station, had been reported absent at sixteen by his sister. She'd just come home from college. And he wasn't there, her bother wasn't there. the parents hadn't noticed, but Jazz had said they would have noticed if he'd been gone for a month.

The file didn't really have a lot on the teen. They knew his general height and weight, 5'5 and around 105 pounds. That was from a doctor visit when he was fourteen so likely inaccurate. They also knew his hobbies, he liked chemistry and hung around the school computer lab. That was all they knew, his parents weren't helpful and his friends didn't trust them.

Sam Mason and Tucker Foley glared at them. They stared him in the eyes and told him he's safe. They knew where he was, they had contact. But not through any device in amity park. So obviously it had been some time since they'd made contact.

Jazz Fenton had stared at them, told them they hadn't cared when it mattered, told them Amity had killed him. Told them he was safe. Told them he finally had people on his side and they should leave it alone. Then she slammed the door.

She too hadn't contacted him on any device or through mail. No none of them had made contact with Daniel. There were no taxi rides, flights, meet up texts, no letters, no anything. How they had contacted him was a mystery.

So all that was left was to contact Phantom. The High King. The Realms Savoir. The Defeater of Pariah Dark. The Protector of the Dead. The being that could destroy them with a snap of his fingers.

The summoning spell was extensive, dozens of runes, circles and magic that had to be channeled into it. Constantine finished the chant and the circle lit up. Bright Lazarus green, it spun, the circles shift and it glows brighter, suddenly there was something there.

It wasn't human, not quite it looked wrong, eyes that were green pools, their skin pale, almost blue like a corpses. Their hair a snowy white, almost floating as though there was no gravity. His crown looked like the aurora borealis, he wore a cloak, a solid black flowing around him, he looked like death. Like the depictions of the grim reapers in fairy tales.

"Well hello there," the beings voice is smooth ringing, not scratchy at all, smooth perfect English, but it feels otherworldly. It feels wrong, the beings very presence feels wrong, like they are defying the universe.

"Greetings to high king Phantom of the infinite realms," Diana takes lead, she bows, and the others fall suit. And he laughs, the sound is wrong, beautiful, hypnotizing and wrong. Horribly wrong, it sounds like the laugh of a dead man, echoing and forever haunting.

"You needn't do that," he smiles with teeth that are far too sharp, "But if we must," he bows his head, "Greetings to Diana of Themyscira, Batman Gotham's favorite Knight, Kal-El one of Krypton's last, and John Constantine the Hellblazer. What can I do for you?"

The heroes swallow nervously, starring at him, "Our magic users tell us that there has been a massive shift in power and that is why cults are forming quickly, and attempting to summon something," Batman starts starring at the being not daring to look away.

'Have they?" It tilts it's head, and laughs softly, "I should deal with that I suppose, Cults are quite annoying, they always bring so much death," they muse, they say the last word differently though. In a way as though it is a mere annoyance. "What else?" it looks at them and they shudder.

"How did you come to power, why now?" Batman asks. it looks at him, he feels himself shudder.

"The king who ruled wrong chose the wrong person to mess with, I was young barely dead really," they grin cheerfully, "I ripped his soul to shreds, I fought with bared teeth." They laugh, "But I wasn't old enough to take the crown, even if it was already mine. That time came to pass, so I took the crown, and the Realms finally acknowledged my rule."

Constantine stares at him, he hadn't just fought Pariah Dark, he'd done it barely dead, probably before he'd been dead for two hundred years. He was dangerous. More so than they could have imagined.

"Thank you for answering, could I ask one more thing?" Batman asks tentatavaly.

"Sure," The being stares at him.

"What happened in Amity Park?" His voice is steady by some miracle.

The being gnashes it's teeth, it laughs hollowly, "I died, what did you think happened?" they snarl at him, "Why did you think I stayed there so long, they never cared for me, really a terrible choice of haunt," they laugh again. "But it was mine."

Mine, past tense, something happened, something terrible from his tone of voice. Daniel Fenton missing, Phantom leaving, his friends claiming He's safe, that he has someone, that Amity killed him. Oh. Oh. Daniel Fenton had died, and his lover had left, to be with him, and he hadn't returned. Because the people he protected had killed his lover.

"I'm sorry," he bows his head, hoping the being won't kill him for asking. He feels sorry, he wishes he notices sooner. It was like someone asking about Jason's death.

'It's fine, is that all?" the being asks sharply. They nod and he is gone the circle glowing as the circles shift back to their original arrangement.

----

basically the batman/Bruce thing but with Danny/phantom. Also yes I forgot the others were present oops. Also sorry for forgetting about tumblr. My brain kinda got depressed, I tried to pierce my ears (failed), and kinda thought i'd be dead by now so am just floundering.

Anyhow thanks to everyone on here, you are all so nice, at least the people who I've interacted with so far! So thanks!

Bye :)

[littlelostmoon]

hi! can i request a luke x reader where reader is a medbay worker in the rebellion who meets luke when he needs an injury treated? (bonus points if he got injured in a really embarrassing way lol)

meeting luke as a med-bay worker a/n this was a really cute idea, hope i did it justice ♡ also i'm so scared of mischaracterizing luke it's not even funny . . . tags gender neutral reader. sfw. blood & injuries. extra fluffy.

you hear a low male voice coming from outside the med-bay. "go on, kid. quit whining and get in there."

"i told you, it's not that bad—"

a boy stumbles into the small main area of the medical base, a hand splayed along his back as if he'd just been shoved. you can practically see the thoughts turning in his head; he's sincerely hoping that the room is too busy to notice him. all hope dwindles from his eyes when you approach him per protocol.

upon seeing him up close, you recognize him from from descriptions that have made their rounds in the little community of two-hundred or so echo base personnel— the blonde-tatooine-farmer-turned heroic-pilot. you were rather new to hoth's medic workforce but didn't mind a popular face. he'd be just like any other (nervous) patient.

"commander skywalker, is that right?" somehow, you had gotten him to cooperate and sit on the small cot in your office; it's a humble space with an even humbler amount of equipment. due to shipments becoming... scattered, all 'advanced' gadgets were rationed out to the more experienced.

"that's me." he shifted in his seat. "but, uhm, you don't have to..."

you eye him and wait.

"just 'luke' is fine."

"okay, luke. are you here by choice?"

"no. a friend of mine, his name's han— made me come in here," he says.

pulling a pair of thin gloves on, you're finally able to eye the patch of dried blood on his forehead. it travels up to his hairline, matting some of the hair there. "i guessed as much. i see what han was concerned about, though."

he tenses up a fraction from the proximity, but you must move in to get a better look. from what you can tell, and with all things considered, the injury is minor.

you wring out a cloth and press it to the injury, lightening your touch when he winces. "that hurt?"

"no, no."

the both of you fall quiet as you clean the blood up— beneath it lies a superficial cut and a decent-sized bruise. he wordlessly allows you to apply some antibacterial solution to it, murmuring something about how happy he is that it doesn't sting. several minutes pass like this. you, lost in concentration. him, the stillest statue.

luke still avoids your gaze when you finish and pluck a small clear-backed bandaid from your drawer, one that wouldn't get stuck in his hair. "how'd this happen, anyhow?"

"is that important?" he asks, ruffling his hair on the unscathed side.

at first, you think he might be rude or secretive, one of those 'i don't need to tell you my business' types that sometimes make their way under your care. but when he glances up at you through his eyelashes, you can tell one thing for sure. he's embarrassed. you lean away from your work on his forehead and fold his chart over, holding it within view. "sorry, protocol. all injuries must be documented."

"oh, well," he flushes. "i was working on my x-wing. one of the other pilots accidentally dropped his wrench on my hand when i was under there."

your gaze drops to his left hand, which he's moved to his knee. the back of his knuckles do look a little purple. this doesn't explain it all, though.

he sighs. "i guess... it startled me, and i tried to sit up. you know, while under the fighter. still."

"okay." you turn a full one-eighty away from him, partially to scribble down what he'd just told you, and partially to hide your smile.

luke sees right through you, somehow. a complete stranger. "what is it?"

"forgive me," you whisper, a little confused by the ordeal. "i don't come across many stories like that."

a pause takes over the moment. he smiles for the first time since he entered the med-bay. it's rather sweet.

to make room for the other patients that are inevitably waiting to be seen (and to tamper down the little tiny tug in your chest when he smiled— you're a medic, for maker's sake), you spend the final minutes carefully bandaging his forehead and sending him on his way.

later, you subtly ask your favorite co-workers to call you in if luke skywalker ever stumbles through the door. you know, a second time.

[kkvqwrites]

Family

Word Count: 282

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, gn!Reader

A/N: This is really short but the idea wouldn't leave me alone. I might flesh it out further later on - we'll see!

“Why is the safe open?” 

You hear Simon’s voice carry down the hall from your shared bedroom where the safe was located. You were in the living room, folding laundry while your newest true crime show was on in the background.

“I’m sorry - I opened it to get our marriage certificate and my documents out so I wouldn’t forget them. I have to send them with the application for my name change. I must have forgotten to close it all the way.”

“Understood. Just please try and remember, yeah?”

You nodded. It was one of the very few things Simon was fussy about, and not arbitrarily. In addition to important documents such as birth certificates, it also held the firearm and ammunition that Simon kept in the house for home defense.

“I will, I’m sorry.”

“No worries, love.” He kissed the top of your head as he walked by you. “Name change, huh?”

“Well yeah,” you replied with a smile. “We’re married. I’m excited to be a Riley.”

You felt rather than saw his demeanor change, and stifled a sigh. Family was a touchy subject for Simon.

“Not much fun bein’ a Riley, love,” his voice was soft with both affection and distant sadness. “I’m the last one left anyhow.”

Smiling, you approached him where he stood waiting for the tea kettle to boil and wrapped your arms around him from behind. He didn’t tense up anymore, which was a small miracle in and of itself. He had finally grown comfortable enough to leave himself open to your affection, and you hoped to have many years to keep giving it to him now that you were a family.

“Not anymore you’re not.”

[indigosoddsandends]

A school district in Texas banned Virginia’s state flag and seal, and this is how I pictured that conversation going in the WTTT universe.

v

        Gov opened a new binder to begin the next portion of the meeting. “Moving on, we have a series of bans that need to be discussed. Texas, you may begin.”

        “Nah, someone else can go first.” The Lone Star State anxiously shot a glance over to Virginia.

        Massachusetts snorted. “Six flags doesn’t want to [speaks northeast] talk about himself for once?”

        “Please continue, Texas. We have many more topics that we need to get through today.” Gov clicked out his pen.

       “Uh…well…I’m banning Virginia’s flag.” Texas kept his eyes locked on his Buc-ee’s cup, not blinking. Gov clicked his pen back shut and promptly disconnected from the conversation.

        “Excuse me?” Virginia paused his argument with Maryland and slowly turned his head to face him. His eyes were squinted in warning—daring Texas to go on.

        “So that’s where Gov gets it from,” Connecticut murmured to Delaware.

        The Lone Star State tipped the brim of his hat over his head, terrified to make eye contact. “It ain’t anything personal! It’s just that there’s…nudity on yer flag and I can’t let a bunch of—uh…third graders see that.”

        The Old Dominion placed his palms flat on the table, left eye twitching. “Oh, and what kinda nudity did you see on my flag, exactly?”

        “I don’t think we need all of the details!” He nervously laughed.

        “No.” Virginia’s nails dug into the table, leaving what were sure to be permanent marks. “You’re gonna tell me what exactly was so offensive.”

        Texas’s face turned a bright red as he mumbled something.

        “What was that, sweetheart?” He raised a brow.

        “There was frontal nudity…of y’know…” Texas made a vague gesture to his chest, looking about ready to die on the spot.

        “Ewwww…” Florida groaned, leaning into Louisiana’s space. “Why were you peeping on Virginia’s breasts?”

        “Wu-hat?! That’s not—” Horror bloomed across his face as Texas waved his arms in front of himself. “I wasn’t! I would never do that!”

        “Oh really?” The chaos state squinted at his phone, which most likely had a picture of the ‘offending’ flag. “Because this thing is pretty small. You would have to reeeaaally strain your eyes to see it.”

        “That’s not what I was saying at all! ‘Sides, I see Virginia as a more motherly figure anyhow, so that just ain’t—”

        Florida interrupted him with a gag. “Egh! That’s even worse! It’s like that thing with the Editus guy.”

        “Oedipus,” California corrected from the other side of the table with an eye roll.

        “I’m not—that’s—are y’all…?” Texas stuttered his halfhearted defense.

        “Texas?” He turned to The Old Dominion, veins freezing. Virginia flashed him a cold smile. “Meet me in my office after the meeting.”

        The Lone Star State jumped up from the table and bolted out of the meeting room door, leaving all of his stuff behind. Gov blinked a few times, mentally rebooting. “Uh… Are there any more bans we would like to cover this week?”

        “Yeah, I’m suing you.” California reached over the table to pass him a summons. “Your tariffs are hella threatening to my economy.”

        The Fed glanced back and forth between California and the document, glare growing on his face. “The topic was bans, not lawsuits.”

        The Golden State shrugged. “Well, then I’m banning you from creating tariffs.”

        “Hey, [speaks northeast].” Massachusetts elbowed him. “If you need any help with that, I know about two thousand [speaks northeast] off law students who’d be willing to help you out.”

        Florida gasped clapping his hands. “Loui! Cali and Masshole are going to go all Legally Blonde on their [technical glitch]! Quick, get the popcorn!”

        “Already on it, sha.” Louisiana passed him a comically large popcorn bucket.

[moonastro]

the vibe you give out to others

pick a picture

left to right(top)-> 1,2

left to right(bottom)-> 3,4

°DO NOT take this as literal, take everything with a grain of salt as this is purely and intendedly for entertainment purposes. °Don't be afraid to give feedback and opinions about this post (as i would entirely appreciate it). ° This is a GENERAL reading, take what resonates and leave and pass on what does not!

PILE ONE

someone who can communicate hours on end with someone, usually about the deeper stuff. so you may like to share your thoughts a lot which leaves people guessing that you would be a very good person to talk to. you also are good with reading the vibes of a room, people almost expect you to change the atmosphere of the vibe within a group. you really are someone who solves problems, situation ships and other things people may need assistance with. i feel like you help others grow, you teach people from wrong or right and perform humanitarian acts. if you are in a bad situation, you get the heck out of there as soon as possible, people know that because you may express your thoughts and feeling through communication. i feel like you talk about the little things to others that they might even find that you can be oversharing at times. anyhow, you may look back on what people did you in the past or vice versa. you don't hold onto a thread, you make very clear decisions that take you wherever it may.

yeah, you learn from your mistakes and only go forward which makes you a stronger individual. there is still some youthful energy surrounding this pile, so don't forget to not be hard on yourself all the time, you give out but not necessarily get given back which allows people to use your time unnecessarily. people can also see a child in you, you may get told that you remind someone of their son or daughter. being behind the scenes is what you are used to and may project a certain insecurity that others notice. i feel like its that others see their own insecurities in you as well which may cause jealousy. you are careful though, you plan, you observe and you double check. there is nothing wrong with being in routine but i feel like people notice that you are too afraid of failure because you might have grew up to be the high achieving kid or the oldest child who had influence on the younger siblings and so forth. overall a very sensual and hardworking pile.

assigned song: Black beauty- Lana Del Rey

PILE TWO

very energetic around people or friends and family but think a lot by yourself, you may keep your true self hidden. you are such a good manifester and people notice that whatever you say out loud becomes real. people may call you a psychic because you just know things before others do, for example if a friend asks about something like an event and you just tell them like "watch this happen in there" and something like this and it happening. you are quite reserved with your feeling and emotions, you use them on better things. around you, others feel confident and secure. you are a very good empath and feel whatever others are feeling, so it is very easy to empress ones feelings to you. you are such a caring and observing individual that others feel nothing but security and comfort around you. honestly such a nostalgic pile!!

you crave a free life where you are not stuck to anything or anyone, people feel the freedom you possess. you don't aim to be powerful nor business oriented, you just want to see what's out there and see what other cultures and countries have in store for you. i feel like you have a plan that you have that consists of you travelling abroad and creating a happy home there at a new setting. you are good with legal matters like documents, credit cards, the law and so forth. you may know about it as you may be interesting in becoming a lawyer or working somewhere that involves a law, like police and so on. but on a real note, you balance everything out in your life, people see how well you split your routine in even pieces. overall, this is a very free spirited and intelligent pile!

assigned song: Ride- Lana Del Rey

PILE THREE

someone who reserves there space and energy, someone who talks very cautiously and are aware of their surroundings. a lot of people don't actually know how to figure you out and it may sound very cliché but i think its just because you don't reveal your feelings by making facial expressions and people don't know whether to laugh or cry when you tell them something serious. you might like to do stuff alone and may feel like a burden to others but it is not the case for other people, they see you as a sweet and isolated human being that likes their space and peace. i see a LOTTT of overthinking and just daydreaming in general. i feel like something is restricting you from taking action and i think it is your thoughts, relax pile 3😅. no but for real, others avoid you not because you are unlikable but because they see how you thrive alone and you don't look like the type of person that needs help from others.

you may have moved a lot as a child and felt like you lost many things because of that. i feel like you don't feel secure and people notice the disease you portray in your body language. that is totally not a bad thing but i feel like others see the frustration and a void that you have, this is very deep but I'm getting an image of just a black figure which may translate of you feeling numb or not feeling anything at all. i feel like this was in the past for some of you, however where there is hardships there is hope and that is exactly the case for this pile. on a good note, your smile brings comfort to others, may make others happy with your smile and that's just so sweet. you do have many ideas flooding in your mind and i feel like that could bring you excesses so be careful. you have many ideas to start over or to change your personality completely. overall, this is a very reserved and a busy mind pile!

assigned song: How to Disappear- Lana Del Rey

PILE FOUR

check out pile one if you felt drawn to it as it may resonate with some of you!! so, you care about others very deeply and this gives me motherly vibes. i feel like you may not listen to people and do your own thing but that's entirely okay but the way i see it is that you sometimes need to take advice in order to move forward. you stand your ground fairly and see the contrast between right and wrong, i feel like that gets people thinking how you pick up on things others don't pay much attention to. say if you called someone out for something, others may go like "oh yeah, i didn't even notice". you really cant be bothered to argue with no one, you feel like there is no point because people are childish and immature and that is something you would rather pass on. conflicts and any other sort of fighting is a strict no go for you. people get the vibe of how can you keep your cool??? they actually are very impressed of your skill to maintain your cool😊. i feel like also you go through very transformative periods in your life that actually change your way you act, maybe you go through different eras and like to experiment different styles and ways of living which is totally fine.

wow, you are a very powerful soul, you have some sort of power that others are stunned. you are literally the lion of the jungle, the boss, the CEO, the millionaire, the royal. WOwww just wow. people just keep getting surprise on surprise from you, you may have so many precious hidden facts about you that make people stunned by the fact that you have so much treasure hidden. people see you as a very humble individual who is always there for people and see the good in everyone. it is such a pleasure to be around you, people may feel almost lucky to have you in their life. you hold a lot of secrets as you may stand with he statement that if you talk about your achievements to others it may delay your success. overall, a very very very powerful and mysterious pile.

assigned song: LION- (G)-idle

that's it everyone, thanks for sticking by and like always don't be afraid to interact with this post however you'd like as i entire appreciate everyone's support and kindness!!

FRIENDLY REMINDER- paid tarot readings are available (DM or check out here for more info!!)

*IMAGES ARE NOT MINE*

[crimsonstonetranslations]

Shinrei Tantei Yakumo volume 11 - prologue

Shinrei Tantei Yakumo novel translation

Volume 11 - Worth of a Spirit

I’d like to ask those who deem my actions brutal. What are you willing to sacrifice for the sake of your loved ones? I will offer everything— That is all.

prologue

-

1

-

A square shaped hole on the floor.

No, this was no ordinary hole. Though enveloped in darkness, the man could make out a ladder extending underground from the mouth of said hole.

He happened to find this door on the floor by mere coincidence.

Had nothing been there, surely he would’ve just thought that the colour of the floor was slightly different in that area. It wouldn't even cross his mind to approach it.

Yet his ears had caught something strange earlier.

Clunking noises, like metal being hit.

He had gotten closer after following that sound, and when sharpening his vision, he noticed there was a door in the direction of that noise.

He should’ve ignored it, but nevertheless, his curiosity over the door overpowered all else.

By the time he came to his senses, he had already opened the door.

“What’s this?”

“There’s a basement area.”

“Don’t you guys feel creepy?”

The other students that were with him came closer, talking to each other and commenting with enthusiasm.

Just what actually lies underneath here?

Led by overwhelming curiosity, he intended to go down that ladder. But at that moment, something grabbed his arm.

It was a female student from the same seminar as him.

“You’re going in there?”

“I heard a strange noise just now,” he replied before lowering one foot, stepping onto the ladder.

Next, putting a hand in his pants pocket, he took out his phone and descended the ladder one step at a time whilst relying on the small light from his phone.

Reaching the end of the steps, he arrived in an open space.

Even so, the small light from his phone wasn’t enough to look at his surroundings in its entirety.

“What is this place?”

“Feels scary.”

Voices echoed.

While difficult to see because of the darkness, apparently the other students followed after him despite complaining in the process.

Using the light from his phone, he illuminated the room.

It was an old room, with both its walls and floor made out of bricks, and an area roughly the size of a large classroom. On one side of the wall were bookshelves storing a sizable number of books as well as documents that were poorly arranged. On the wall across it were shelves lined with medicine bottles. Then, placed in the middle of the room was an old operating table.

Only thing was—

No one was there.

Perhaps the noise he had heard earlier had merely been his imagination.

However, when he changed his mind and was about to head back, he discovered something strange.

That object resided in one corner of the room.

It appeared to be a box.

“What…is this?” he said as he approached the box.

The box was fairly old and made out of metal. Nearly every part of it had rusted.

Did this box used to store equipment?

No, that would be strange.

Something that looked like a talisman had been pasted on the box, and it wasn’t just one. The darkness made it hard to tell for certain, but there had to be at least thirty of them.

That wasn’t all. Something had been written on top of the lid.

Not with a marker or the like. The letters had been carved directly onto the metal.

He lifted his phone, casting a light over it, and read the letters.

This box shouldn’t be opened.

That was what it said.

Could this be someone’s prank? No, for a prank, this seemed like a lot of effort. Someone had been afraid of something, and had locked whatever it was inside this box.

By reflex, he reached out towards the lid.

“Is it fine to touch it anyhow?” asked one female student.

Under normal circumstances, he would’ve stopped his hand by now. Yet for some reason, he couldn’t resist the force of the box pulling him.

His fingers trembled slightly.

As if led by something, the man placed his palm on the lid of the box.

His fingers were greeted by the rough sensation of the rusty surface combined with the coldness of the metal.

You wouldn’t be able to return after opening it, a voice said to him.

A voice that sounded like it had spoken directly to him from within his eardrums, or from inside his brain. That might have been a sign that he had to stop here.

And yet—

He drew out his strength, attempting to open the lid of the box.

Several talismans ripped in the process and the lid opened alongside the creaking sound of metal rubbing against each other.

A powerful smell invaded his nose and he spontaneously turned his face away.

As he lifted his phone to peek into the box’s contents once more, he felt a piercing gaze from behind.

He turned around to find a man standing there.

Both of the man’s eyes were dyed blood red—

-

2

-

Along the riverside road that was part of her school commute, Sana squeezed the brakes on her bicycle.

Her bicycle came to a stop with a high-pitched squeak.

Still on her bicycle, she turned her face in the direction of the river.

My eyes weren’t deceiving me.

A girl was standing at the edge of the river.

However—

The girl’s condition was unusual.

She gave the impression that she was about to commit suicide by jumping into the river.

Not even Sana knew why she felt that way, even though she had merely seen the girl from the corner of her sight while cycling.

Besides, what should she do if the girl was contemplating suicide?

Even that was something she had no idea about.

It felt strange to call out to her even though the girl wasn’t doing anything in particular. Yet it would be all too late if the girl had already jumped into the river.

What should I do?

While she was thinking, the girl slowly turned her neck to look in her direction.

With her head lowered and her hair hung loosely, Sana couldn’t see her face very well.

Cold breeze blew along the riverside, making a wuthering sound as dusk drew near. On the opposite side of the river, a white heron flapped its wings and flew away.

Was it her own imagination?

Compared to before, the girl’s figure appeared larger—

No, it wasn’t just her feeling. That girl was slowly walking towards her.

As the girl drew closer, Sana noticed something.

The girl’s black hair was sopping wet. And not just her hair. Her uniform blouse and skirt were soaked through as well, almost like she had just come out of the water.

Drip, drip—Sana could almost hear the sound of water droplets falling from the girl’s body.

Before realising, the girl had already closed the distance between them until a mere five metres apart remained.

At this point, Sana noticed another peculiar thing.

The girl was barefoot.

In the middle of winter, had she really been walking around barefoot? No, regardless of the season, it would be unusual to walk outside barefoot.

“A-Are you alright?” she asked, her voice trembling.

Without answering Sana’s question, the girl extended both of her hands.

Her hands were so pale and skinny they felt impossible to belong to a living breathing human. Droplets of water dripped from the tip of her fingers.

“......”

The girl was saying something.

Even so, Sana couldn’t catch what the girl had said over the sound of the wind.

Once again, the drenched girl moved her lips that had turned purple.

This time, Sana was able to hear her clearly.

“I… never wanted that...”

Sana couldn’t understand what the girl wanted to say. Yet her words sounded terrifying, reverberating through her eardrums.

This isn’t normal.

Sana lifted her feet onto the bicycle pedals and rode the two-wheeled device with all her might.

She wanted to get away from the girl as soon as possible.

If she stayed there any longer, she might get dragged into the river by the mysterious girl. Consumed by that thought, Sana pedalled her bicycle using all her strength.

“I never wanted that…” said a voice next to her.

Eh?

She was currently cycling as fast as she could. Catching up on foot would be impossible. And yet, the voice sounded right beside her.

Unable to bear it anymore, Sana screamed—

[some1s-sista]

So this morning my husband, eldest dottr, and myself drove to local State Park and took a little hike. We started at the parking lot where they display one of the dug out canoes that were found in the lake. About 30 canoes have been found since the 1980s, usually when drought causes the lake levels to drop, and some date back 4400 years!

So then we hopped on the boardwalk that had been closed for repairs and walked to a little overlook on the lake. We were shocked by how low the water was. This is a swimming area, see the no diving low water levels sign? We were like LOW water? How bout NO water. We were told it was even lower last year, but we’re just starting the month of June! We haven’t hit the dry season or heat of summer yet.

Then we jumped back onto the boardwalk and followed it until it opened up to the back of the local plantation. Those buildings are the hospital and two slave dwellings. There used to be 21 slave homes lined up in a row overlooking the lake. It sticks in my craw that they have all this documented but they claim they don’t know where the slave graveyard is. They know there was one but they have no location. I call BS. I’ve also suggested ground penetrating radar but they say they have too much land to cover. You know where the chapel was, you know where their homes were … I think some educated guesses could be made. But NC doesn’t care. If I ever win the lottery, I’ll pay for it myself. We owe them AT LEAST that. Their graves should be found and marked and remembered.

Anyhow, then we followed the carriage trail through the campground, past some farms and farmland as far as you can see, and then we were back at the picnic area with the see-through tree and the parking lot, where we discovered a sign detailing two more trails for us to follow another time! 2.8 and 7 miles long. We may have to bike that one!

Now I’m eating chocolate cake to make up for all that exercise! Lol!

A Lovely Sunday

[moodymisty]

Part 1 (some needed context)

Author's Note: Part two, as was requested. I need to stop listening to Halsey when I write, I always end up making things too verbose and hyperbolic.

Also pspspsps @rivalriotrenegade you wanted to be tagged in the sequel? Here you go.

Summary: Angron will be leaving soon, and he comes to take in a moment of you beforehand.

Relationships: Angron/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angron being Angron, Vague descriptions of death violence and gore, General 40kness, The most emotionally stunted man in the galaxy receives an affection, Historitor!Reader is scared but in love horny

Word Count: 1942

Guilliman hadn’t been pleased with the news. 

It had arrived to him via a distressed captain who had been attempting to deal with the issue discretely up until now, but in his attempts to track down their missing historitor, he had found you in Angron’s company. You didn’t seem to be in any sort of severe peril, but the captain expressed his concerns of the World Eater’s Primarch trouncing when he didn’t belong, as well as encroaching on someone who might hold secrets to their legion. 

Guilliman agreed with most of the captain’s concerns, but also hesitated. His hand hovered over half written parchment as ink threatened to drop from the tip of his pen.

Roboute has no desire to pick a fight with another Primarch over one historitor. And if any information ended up in the hands of the World Eaters, he would know exactly where it came from. He would deal with the matter then as swiftly as he would any other traitor.

In the end, he simply instructs the captain to keep watch on the matter. 

The scenario is unique after all; You seem to be no traitor, but now spend almost all of your time in the presence of the World Eaters. Guilliman’s captain had described the scene in a confused manner, wondering as to why the Primarch had taken such a keen, almost obsessive interest in one soul in particular. Roboute thinks he has an inkling why, but his captain simply doesn’t have the experience to understand. Afterall he’s known nothing but battleship halls and bolters, these sorts of thoughts are… Foreign. 

With no solid solution and the threat of a legion wide war with any misstep, The Macragge native elects to largely abandon the matter, and mark any information related to you with a note saying to refer to the relevant paperwork for more information.

—------------------------------

The Conqueror is the first Gloriana class battleship you’ve ever seen in anything but historical documents, and those transcriptions fail to even capture a hint of the overwhelming scale of the massive battleship. The barges you’ve seen are huge, but even they don’t compare to the size of the World Eater’s flagship.

It stays moored in the planet’s upper atmosphere, but it’s impossible not to see it lingering in the sky alongside a myriad of other ships. Servitors and other such are loading heaps of supplies into low orbit cruisers to bring back up to the massive battleship, preparing it for another long journey out into the reaches of Imperium space.

Part of you wonders if Angron expects you to join him. You desperately hope not, but in another odd sort of way, you find it almost saddening to be without him for an extended period of time. You know that there are horrors out there that can rend the mind into pieces, that being behind Terra’s walls is to be afforded a luxury so few in the galaxy will touch that the mere thought of leaving should cast you in an unbearable shame. But it seems so completely ridiculous to say that you’ll miss him. Though the thought still crosses your mind anyhow.

You hear the sounds of his heavy footsteps approaching. You’ve been away from his side most of the day, so you figured it was due time for him to eventually hunt you down. He stands not a step away from you once he finds his hunt for you concluded, looking outward towards the mass of Terran servitors and other workers hauling World Eaters requisitions to where ever they're needed.

“You are staying. If you are wondering.” 

Part of you feels a sense of relief from it. While you might have a fondness for Angron, his World Eaters are significantly less appealing to you. They only tolerate your existence due to the repeated threats of their Primarch. Khârn has also questioned his genefather; The still unfilled crack in his ceramite armor remains as evidence of it. His doubt had hurt, but you can’t help but feel his questioning was justified. 

It’s not as if you can do much for them, beyond what you do for their Primarch. In the eyes of men bred for war, you’re the meaningless byproduct of a planet they protect more because they enjoy the bloodshed of doing so than anything else. Whether you are alive or dead is a meaningless query to them.

You curiously look up at Angron, who is gazing over the massive shipyard.

"You're leaving soon, I suppose." The Primarch lets out an affirmative grunt in response.

It hasn’t been long of you knowing him, and you’re still cautiously testing what territory can be tread, and what very much cannot be. There’s not much of the former, and plenty of the ladder.

You have learned that he seems to enjoy whenever how larger and stronger he is than you- when his prowess in brutal combat, is prominent. That isn’t a hard thing to achieve, given his height you stand at roughly his midsection. The Primarch absolutely towers over you and while he knows it sends fear through you, you fight it. 

As you watch over the railing you suddenly feel a heavy weight on your shoulder, and glancing to your left it’s easy to see the bronze colored gauntlet that now rests there.

You know that whenever he does that, a weight on your body, he’s attempting to take solace in the weird ability you somehow possess. You gently lay a hand over his armored one, fingers brushing over the knicks and scratches of his worn, battered plate. He’s worn it for many years, it shows the story of endless battles and it’s still able to hold so many more.

You don’t know how long it’ll be till you see him again. The warp, it’s, power; Time doesn’t work the same way out there that it does on Terra. You want to give him one last before he leaves, but you hope that it doesn’t ruin the little bit of progress you’ve made with him.

“Can you, bend over? So I can reach you?” 

You don’t know what you had expected for when you hesitantly asked, but you hadn’t expected the Primarch to indulge you. 

His massive weight shifts, landing on his right knee with a loud enough thud, that you swear the marble beneath his knee plate is surely cracked. With him at this height, your hands can touch his face, feeling the way it’s decorated with a million different little scars. Some large- thick, deep cuts like one over his brow, or over his lips. Others are smaller, not visible from so far away but you can feel them under your fingertips.

“Can you tell me how you got some of these one day?”

Angron grunts.

“The arena, most of them. I killed anyone who struck me. They are nothing but sand now.”

Your face drops. Sometimes you forget that Angron has never felt anything but pain his entire life. And it’ll continue, as the nails will never be removed. What little you can do to them only serves to prolong what he feels. Your fingers brush over more of his mauled skin.

One might call it cruel. But you want him to have at least a few moments of peace in his life.

Your fingertips brush along the scarred skin around where the nails dig into his skull, glancing at his expression. It’s softened ever so slightly, but you can see anger still etched into his skin. 

You don’t know how you went from the brain hijacking, heart wrenching terror, to feeling this way. Part of you will still always remain frightened of him; Of the sheer strength he can barely keep in check in the best of moments, that is always boiling beneath the surface. But there’s something that over time has gradually fallen over that terror like a thick heavy curtain draped atop a coffin.

You love him.

In a way that makes you sick to your stomach, churning in a way that has you petrified to be near him, but also away from him.

You can’t say that he’s been kind. You’d be stupid to even assume as such; Even with the key you hold, he’s still him. His grip on you is rough- your body has bruises from shoulder to wrist, he speaks to you in short quips. He uses more words now, but he still will never reflect back whatever you give him. You can see the moments where he tries, but he simply isn’t capable of it. You can’t ask a man who’s known nothing but endless pain and suffering to suddenly not rip and tear every hand that reaches for him. But you can maybe numb it- put bandages over gushing wounds and cover scars, trying to give a modicum of kindness before he’s sunken down too deep into his own abyss. 

You can feel him watch you as your hands touch his face, his brow is tight knit and his armor makes soft metal noises as pieces gently knock against each other when he shifts. The hand that had been on your shoulder has long since moved, it now wraps around your elbow instead; As if he’s debating removing you.

You hold a softness in your eyes reserved for the closeness of family, friends, or lovers. He’s so rarely seen it that recognizing it was nearly impossible for him. But you look at him like that, like he’s the only thing in your world that matters. Your hands touch his face so gently he swears he can’t feel them. Like they would fall right through him as if attempting to touch a hologram.

How? 

Angron doesn't understand why. He isn’t something you can love. There’s just, nothing in him capable of receiving or reciprocating it. He’s done nothing but kill, tear, maim, splatter every wall he’s near with the blood of others or his own. 

To be the object of another’s affection is a laughable concept. He’s a creature, a creation of war; Lorgar likes to call the Primarchs the product of the Emperor’s Mastery, his sons, as much as the phrase makes bile rise in his throat- but Angron knows he’s nothing but a pieced together amalgamation of DNA made to fulfill a purpose. He was not made to feel any of this. 

You kiss him. 

You feel his hot breath on your face, his hands clenching into fists and threatening to dent the ceramite of his armor. He tries to funnel his anger there; His anger at the galaxy, at the Emperor, at the thought that you actually are stupid enough to think there’s something in him worthy of paying this level of gentleness to. He’s never felt things like this before. He’d never wanted to; Because he knows that the pain of it being taken away hurts far worse than the pain of never feeling it to begin with.

His face is rough as he pushes back into you, and you feel pleased to know that you didn’t overstep. He hears your soft sigh as you lean into him, hands still on his face.

But Angron knows there will be a point where you can numb it no longer. The nails are a part of him, an ever growing sea pulling him deeper and deeper into a blood red abyss. It drags him down no matter how hard he fights it, with no hope of safety or even temporary sanctuary. 

When he’s fully under, when he can no longer see ally from foe and your face and touch and voice becomes no more soothing to him than the likes of any incomprehensible field of demons yearning for his blade to slice their hide, as his nails scream and bite and beg for him to taste blood;

He dares to hope only then will someone fulfill his role of taking anger unto themself, and put him out of his torment.

[spudfromspace]

Is this actually real?

Hello, this story is the result of me thinking of multiple things at the same time and spiraling into a rabbit hole of thoughts, i think i might have ADHD. This is the first story I've written in a long while (around 4 years), so it might not be that good. Anyhow, let's get on with it. Also, this'll be male character/s x male reader, ok? No hard feelings, but we need more x male reader works, also this is an au if you couldn't tell

*i groan, rubbing my head as the world around me feels like it's spinning. Eventually, i was able to stand up and take a look at my surroundings, it looked like a forest*

W-where am i?

*i was about to explore my new surroundings, but then i saw something approach me from the woods. It was some cat thing with rings on its ears. It looked strangely familiar, but i couldn't remember why*

Welcome, i am kyubey

Wait- this seems oddly familiar-

I am capable of granting you one wish, anything you desire

Wait a minute-

But in return, you will become a magical boy and use your powers to fight witches

WAIT A DAMN MINUTE-

*i start to freak out, realising just who this is*

OH HELL NO, I AIN'T RISKING MYSELF AND BECOMING A WITCH. BACK YOU DEMON!

*i yell at it, picking up a random stick on the ground and pointing it at it*

*"kyubey" starts laughing and falls on the ground*

Hahahaha! I'm just kidding!

*it transforms into something else, something with a more human appearance but the ears and tail were still there. They stand up and walk towards me, putting their hands up to show they weren't there to hurt me*

Chill, I'm not gonna do anything bad

*i lower the stick*

Then who are you, where am i and what the heck is going on?

Well, first my name isn't important but you can just call me kyu. Second you are in America, well, America in another world. And third basically you died and are now being subjected to a similar fate as most shonen isekai anime protagonists

Wait.... WHAT!? THAT CAN ACTUALLY HAPPEN!?

*i was very shocked after what i was just told. I died... and was now in another world like in those isekai animes*

You good? Had enough time to get it together yet?

It's been barely 2 minutes... THAT IS NOWHERE NEAR ENOUGH TIME FOR ME TO GET IT TOGETHER AFTER LEARNING I JUST DIED AND AM NOW IN ANOTHER WORLD!

Well get it together already, there's still a lot we need to get through before i can leave

What?

Well i cant just leave you in this new world without having any knowledge about this place and unable to live by yourself, i am legally not allowed to. Since unlike most of those isekai tropes where people get sent to worlds in more medieval times and you can just start your life without people questioning who you are and where you came from, this world is just as modern as your previous one, and since you don't originally belong to this world you wont have things like your birth certificate, school files, personal files, proof of existence, etc...

Wait.... so then how am i supposed to live here if i basically don't exist?

*they chuckle and snap their fingers, multiple documents appear around us*

That's what I'm here for, I'm in charge of your transfer to this world and with some magic i made some of these documents and files that will serve as your identity and proof of existence in this world, stuff like your birth certificate and things i mentioned previously, these will become apart of this worlds databank making it as if you were always part of it. I kept your information identical to your original one except for the fact that now it would be as if you were already an American citizen, instead of living in (insert country), your data would be stated that you moved to America just recently with the purpose of studying

But what about where I'll live? How am i supposed to get money or a job? And studying, how could i afford tuitions?

I'm getting there, jeez, be a little patient won't you? You'll be provided with a small house for yourself, as for school stuff, you'll find documents inside said house for your school, since I've already enrolled you. And as for money and job, well, that's where the fun stuff starts

*they were grinning after saying that which worried me a bit for what they meant by that*

What are you talking about?

Well, remember what i said earlier? I wasn't kidding about that turning you into a magical boy part, but before you panic, no it's not like madoka magica. You will be a using powers and stuff to fight bad guys and get paid by the government for saving people, sounds fun right?

What kind of powers? And is there some kind of catch? Cuz a free house, powers, and a job sounds too good to be true...

The only catch is college, you'll have to balance fighting bad guys with attending school while not failing. And as you probably now from all the shows you've watched with similar tropes, that isn't an easy task, but one thing you won't have to worry about is hiding your identity

Is it because magical girls/boys outfits have magic that make people as blind as a bat when it comes to their identities, regardless of how identical they look?

What? No, not like miraculous ladybug blindness, it's more like the powerpuff girls

Ah, ok then. So....what powers do i get? Are they cool powers?

Eh, I'm too lazy to come up with powers, here just pick which ones you want

*they hand over a screen displaying multiple characters fictional characters*

Wait, aren't these characters from works of fiction? Won't they exist in fiction in this world too?

Well yeah, some fictional works from your world exist here too, just like how things like nintendo exist here too. But don't worry, all the characters in that screen are characters that don't exist in this world, as to avoid copyright infringement. So just take your pick and I'll give you those powers.

This isn't an easy decision to make, can't i just pick later? How about you show me where ill be living first?

Fiiinnnneeee..... but I'll only wait until tomorrow, so make up your mind by then ok?

*kyu snaps their fingers and then we suddenly appear in a bedroom, me falling into a bed*

This is your new home, information about your house, school, and city are all in those documents beside you on your bed, and just use google maps for getting to your school. You'll also have food in the fridge and some money if you look in your drawer. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be taking my leave, I'll be back tomorrow afternoon so have a decision by then ok?

*kyu then disappears, leaving me alone in my new house, in a new world, in my new life. I plop myself properly down on the bed, looking at the ceiling and thinking of everything that just happened during the last hour or so*

Holy shit.... i think i just became an shonen protagonist.... ew

*thinking back to what kyu said, i needed to think of what powers i want*

Eh, I'll figure it out tomorrow morning, i need to sleep after all this shit

End of part 1

This is the end for this part, i hope this wasn't too bad. As for the powers and stuff, I'll keep thinking for what powers would be good or i might just make a poll later on which characters powers we could have, you guys can even comment some suggestions. No dogday and catnap for now, maybe in the next chapter if i get to that part fast enough

[kotegiris]

[Event Story] 3rd Anniversary -Mark of Glory-

Events Referenced: White Worship, The Lake that Vanished into the Desert, Divine Protection of the Stars

previous chapter ✧ all ✧ next chapter

Chapter 13: Memories of the Desert

A few days later… I went to the Southern Lands with the basement floor butlers…

It was before daybreak. We were riding camels through the desert.

Muu: Yawn~…I’m still sleepy…

Miyaji: Muu-kun, be careful not to fall from the camel.

Muu: Y-Yes! I’m okay…

Flure: Sorry for making you travel this early in the morning, Aruji-sama…

> Don’t worry about me. I’m alright.

Flure: Thank you. The sun is just so strong when it’s out…

Flure: Even in the winter… It’s very hot in the desert during the day.

Flure: Of course I took that into consideration when I made these outfits. I tried to use as much breathable material as possible.

> You did?

Flure: Yes! It’s not as hot as it looks, and it should protect you from the sun.

Flure: It’s cooler at night, but… It should also protect you from the cold.

Flure: Basically, it’s an outfit perfect for the desert!

Flure: Ah, sorry… I got too excited.

Lato: Kufufu… It’s true that your outfits are wonderful.

> Way to go, Flure!

Miyaji: Yes. Thanks to your outfits, we can have a comfortable trip to Dalaja.

Muu: Speaking of Dalaja… We’ve been there before, right?

Miyaji: Yeah. It’s the largest town in the Southern Lands, governed by the Portrea family.

Miyaji: It’s a town with strict rules, so we have to change into their traditional clothing when we arrive, but…

Miyaji: …Right now they’re having their end-of-the-year festival. I’m sure it’ll be a fun time.

Muu: Heh~, a festival! Is it like the festival they had last time?

Miyaji: That’s right. It’s similar in the sense that the town is extravagantly decorated.

Lato: Fufu… Flure and I haven’t had many chances to go to the Southern Lands…

Lato: I wonder what kind of place Miyaji-sensei’s hometown is… I’m looking forward to it.

Miyaji: Hmm… Dalaja isn’t my hometown, but…

Miyaji: …The atmosphere isn’t much different. Anyways, I hope everyone enjoys the festival.

Miyaji: But before that… We have to deliver the letter to Sharkil-sama first.

Flure: T-That’s right… …Meeting with nobles makes me nervous…

【New Capital - Dalaja】

Sharkil: ……Hm……

Sharkil: I see. I have to document the Devil Butlers’ contributions.

Miyaji: Yes. Pardon the inconvenience, but we ask for your cooperation…

> Thank you for your cooperation.

Sharkil: It’s no inconvenience. I’ve heard about the work you’ve done.

Sharkil: You flawlessly resolve our requests… The other day, I also heard about how you handled the dispute between the desert tribes too.

Lato: Yes. You’re well aware of our deeds.

Sharkil: Yes. You may have hidden your social statuses then, but…

Sharkil: I hear of everything that happens in the Southern Lands. If you piece together all the information… it’s evident what happened.

Sharkil: …Our talk is veering off course. Anyhow, I will hand you my reply later.

Sharkil: Please feel free to stay in this town and enjoy the festival. As long as you obey the rules, you’re free to do as you like.

Sharkil: Including visiting your comrades’ graves and their birthplaces.

Sharkil: …Miyaji Oldia. Speaking of birthplaces, which town are you from?

Miyaji: ……My hometown is already gone. It was destroyed a long time ago during a war.

Sharkil: …I see. It seems that I’ve asked a thoughtless question.

Sharkil: Then, I hope you at least enjoy your stay in Dalaja. Now then, I’ll be taking my leave.

Flure: Hah… Talking face to face with a noble really is nerve-wracking…

Flure: But… I’m glad that it seems like he’ll write a reply!

Miyaji: Yeah. He can’t just refuse a request from Finlay-sama after all…

Miyaji: It seems that he’s also grateful for everything that Aruji-sama and the others have done so far.

> It’s thanks to everyone.

Muu: Yes! When you do something good, someone will acknowledge you!

Muu: Ah, by the way… I was just wondering, but…

Muu: So Miyaji-san’s hometown is already gone…

Miyaji: …Yeah. I may have already talked about this before, but…

Miyaji: Before I became a Devil Butler… The Southern Lands was divided into states.

Miyaji: The states were always fighting over things like land and religion… And before long my hometown was also caught in the flames of war and destroyed.

Miyaji: The one who rose to power from that war was… The ancestor of the current Portrea family.

> So that’s what happened…

Miyaji: Yeah. …However, it happened a long time ago.

Miyaji: I’ve moved from place to place since I was young, so…

Miyaji: Please don’t worry about it. It’s alright. 

Miyaji: I think of Devil’s Palace as my current home anyways.

> Miyaji…

Lato: Kufufu… I feel the same way.

Flure: M-Me too! Let’s all keep protecting our precious home! 

Miyaji: Yeah. It’s just as Flure-kun said.

Miyaji: Now then. Let’s leave our dark history talk at that.

Miyaji: By the way, Muu-kun… I’ve heard that you’ve been asking all the butlers about their memories.

Muu: Yes, that’s right! I’ve been asking everyone while on this trip.

Muu: So, Miyaji-san… Do you have any memorable towns?

Miyaji: Memorable towns? Hm… Let’s see.

Miyaji: All the towns I’ve been to with Aruji-sama are unforgettable, but…

Miyaji: I think the most memorable place near here is Samlus.

Flure: Isn’t that… The village you went to with Berrien-san and the others?

Flure: You went there to visit the grave of a friend who passed away a long time ago, right?

> That’s the village where the starry sky was so pretty, right? > That’s the village with the observatory, right?

Miyaji: Yeah. It was the hometown of Riason-kun, a former Devil Butler.

Miyaji: Even now I still can’t forget the words he left behind…

Miyaji: “May those still alive have the divine protection of the stars.”

Miyaji: He may have become a star, but… I’m sure that even now he’s watching over us…

Muu: Yeah… I’ll also never forget the view I saw there.

Muu: The flowers blooming in the desert were very pretty!

Flure: Huh…? There were flowers blooming in the desert?

Muu: Yes! In the area by the grave, when it rains, flowers bloom!

> It was really pretty.

Lato: Hm… That’s very lovely.

Miyaji: Yeah. If you’d like, let's go to Samlus together next time.

Miyaji: I think Riason-kun would be happy if his juniors visit his grave.

Flure: Yes! Let’s definitely go one day!

Flure: I wish I had a memorable place in the Southern Lands like Miyaji-sensei…

> Flure…?

Lato: Hm… Now that you mention it.

Lato: Since there was never an opportunity to go to the Southern Lands together with Aruji-sama…

Lato: Flure and I don’t have any places we’re particularly attached to in the Southern Lands.

Lato: Kufufu… I’ve thought of a good idea.

Lato: If we don’t have any memories, then… We just have to make some.

Flure: Huh… Lato…?