#Ignore the unfinished sketch at the bottom left

[ace-detectiv3]

The B Cells pair ever

[rezzyromance]

Could I request Heisenberg with a female s/o who's negatively pent up from anxiety and depression and feeling like they're not good enough for Karl but they always put on a brave face to not look weak? They just want to make him happy and proud maybe maybe when they're either fucking or just working, maybe he says an offhand comment that hits home, idk being called useless is a good one to feel like being stabbed. They love him but they've been hiding all their mental struggles and bottling it up be a use they always focused on him first? Mental health feels neglected rn and could use the hurt/comfort if you're okay with this! Up to you if you want to add smut or not, with or without is great

Of course, baby. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the story. (CW: Hurt/Comfort, mentions of anxiety and depression. Sexual scenarios: Fingering, face riding, praising, general NSFW)

Living with Karl is a task that can be mentally taxing on anyone. For you, this wasn't an exception. There was no doubt in your mind that you loved him, but that dragged along a few issues with it. You loved him so much, that you constantly felt an unbearable pressure that pushed you to attempt to impress him out of fear that he may view you as inferior to him. Karl is without a doubt strong, insanely intelligent, passionate, and all around tremendously powerful. Often times you wondered why he even keeps you around.

You had grown very close with him over time. He never put a real title on your relationship, but you both knew that he loved you. He loved you enough to let you help out on his work. He assigned little tasks for you to do such as organizing his blueprints, creating blueprints, and organizing his tools. Each time you did something, he would reward you with praise. Sometimes the praise would be heart to heart while other times it may be skin to skin. While the praise he provided felt rewarding, you began to worry what may happen if your work wasn't good enough. What if you weren't good enough? What if he stopped finding you useful or attractive? These troubling thoughts had been torturing you recently. But, you kept it all bottled up, worried that he may view you as weak if he knew you were so afraid of failure. Whenever you would work on something, you would sit there for hours on end. Nothing could stop you until you were finished. You did this as a way to imitate Karl and his tireless work. Though, Karl does have powers that help keep his body from shutting down the way yours does. That didn't stop you from constantly pushing yourself overboard, though.

A knot grew larger and larger in your throat as you attempted to sketch out a new blueprint, slouching while sitting on your bed. He had asked you to work on it that morning and it was nearly midnight now. The lines were uneven, your hand writing was messy, and it was easy to see where you had erased and redrawn a lot of little details all over the paper. A single tear fell from your eye and onto the paper, causing a wet spot where the ink began to smear. You ignore your body and minds cry for help by quickly wiping your eyes and acting as if it didn't happen. Your hands were shaking as you applied more details, not being close to finish. Your eyes were twitching, fed up with staring down so harshly at the paper for so long. Suddenly, the door to the room opens.

You jump and face the door, realizing how cramped your neck was from your poor posture. Karl entered the room, obviously tired from a long days work. His eyes looked heavy and he was running his hands through his hair. "Still working on that blueprint, buttercup?", he asks as he walks towards you. You look back at the paper and realize how low quality it was, along with unfinished. You quickly hold the paper to your chest, attempting to block it from him. 'Um it's almost finished I swear! I just n-need to add a few more little details.", you assure him. He holds his hand out. "Let me see.", he raises an eyebrow and begins to wiggle his fingers. You attempt to swallow the knot in your throat as you shakily hand it over.

Your hands clutch each other tightly, digging what's left of your bitten nails into your skin. His eyes scan each inch of the paper and his eyebrows begin to furrow. "What.. is this?", he looks over to you. "What?", you're voice is shaky and cracking, but you attempt to cover it up by clearing your throat. "(Y/N)... you've been in here all day and THIS is all you could do? What have you been doing all day?", his voice began to grow into a semi-shout. It felt like thunder as it shook your body. You take a deep breath, attempting to toughen up to his words. "I really did try! I did exactly what you told me an-" he cuts you off before you can finish. "Really? You did exactly as I told you?! You said you could have this done by tonight and i trusted your judgement. But (Y/N) this shit is useless!"

He continues to fuss, but it was all silent to you. All you could hear was the echo of his voice saying that word. "Useless." The one thing you feared of becoming. The one thing you feared of creating. Your balled fists begin to shake. Your lip begins to quiver and your eyes grow cloudy.

"I'M SORRY!", you cry out before looking down at the floor, failing to control your tears as they fell to the floor. Suddenly, your eyes began to flood. Your stomach and heart felt like they were twisting and turning with guilt. He froze, unsure of how to handle this sudden outburst. "Was I too harsh?", he thought. "I'VE TRIED SO HARD TO BE GOOD ENOUGH. GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU! I'VE TRIED TO PERFECT YOUR WORK. I'VE TRIED TO LOOK MY BEST EVERY DAY! FOR YOU! I'VE DONE EVERYTHING YOU'VE TOLD ME TO!", your whole body shakes as you break down. "I never told you that you had to do any of that! What the hell have you been pushing yourself so hard for?", his tone was still stern, but he wasn't angry. He was very concerned, but had no idea how to express it. "I WANTED TO MAKE YOU PROUD!", you continue to cry.

The room was silent other than your quiet sobbing. He didn't know what to say. He had no clue that you had put so much pressure on yourself to impress him. He had no idea on why it mattered so much to you. And in that moment, something in him began to ache. He remembered being like that once. So dead set on making others proud of him no matter what it took. He had no clue what to say due to no one ever being there for him in his time of struggle, so instead he goes for a more physical approach.

He grabs you by the arm and pulls you to his body, holding you close. You bury your face in his chest to try and muffle your cries. He runs his hand through your hair, still confused as to why you pushed yourself so hard for him. "I just..", you sniffle. "I just wanted to be good enough.. for you...", you say as you try to stop crying. He lifted you up, carrying you bridal style to the bed. He crawled up and sat his back against a pillow, continuing to hold you close as you buried your face in his neck.

"Look at me.", he held your chin in between his thumb and pointer finger and waited for you to face him. You sniffle and pull your head up to meet him eye to eye. There was a new look in his eyes. Something unfamiliar to the both of you. Tenderness. "You are good enough. And I am so proud of you. Everyday you make me proud. Every time I look at you I'm proud.", he begins to wipe the tears from your face, struggling to find the right words to say. "Look. You don't need to overwork yourself. The fact that you stick around with me to begin with is enough for me." A small smile begins to grow on your face. The sight warms him and helps reassure him that he didn't say anything dumb.

Once you've seemed to calm down, he pulls you in for a kiss. It was warmer than usual. Softer than usual. And Karl isn't a man known for being soft or gentle. But this kiss was far from rough, but just as passionate. It was reassuring and safe. He pulls away and smiles at the sight of your now blushing face. "There's my pretty girl. Now, if you feel like it... since we're already on the bed.. I think I know a thing or two you can do if you still wanna feel useful.", he offers with a sly grin. You giggle and begin to straddle his lap. "Sounds good to me." you say as his hands start to wander around your hips.

"But, we're gonna be doing something different.", he says as his eyes scan every inch of your body. "What's that?", you go to unbuckle his belt but he grabs your wrist before you can continue. "Tonight's all about you. I wanna make you feel good.", he says. During every sexual situation you've had, you had focused on pleasing him first, not thinking about yourself and your own wants and desires. You don't object, so he moves his hands back to your hips and pulls you off of his body, effortlessly tossing you onto your back on the bed.

He then pins himself above you, towering over you. Your heart races at the new experience and your face glows more and more pink. His eyes meet yours and the sight alone is enough to start making your panties grow wet. He lowers his face down to your neck where he begins to place little kisses. Chills run through your body like ocean waves and you let out a quiet gasp as a kiss turns into a nibble. A hickey begins to form and he lets go, moving his mouth to your ear. "I want you to tell me what you want, buttercup." he whispers in your ear as one of his hands begins to wander across your body. It starts up near your breast where he fondles it gently, earning a lip bite from you. Then, he goes lower to your stomach where he scratches lightly at your skin. You squirm beneath his hand. He smiles and begins to kiss you once more before going even further, slipping his hands into your pants and cupping your vagina through your soaking panties. You gasp while your lips are still connected and he gently tugs on your bottom lip with his teeth, pleased at the reaction he's gotten from you.

"Is this what you want?", he slips two of his fingers into your panties and finds your clit, rubbing it slowly. "Mhm", you whine and press yourself into him. "Goodgirl.", he moves from where he was and makes his way down to your pants. He unbottons them and begins to pull them off. He throws the pants across the room and crawls back towards you on the bed. He removes your shirt and your bra underneath, throwing them in the same direction of the pants. He lowers his head down to one of your hard nipples and wraps his mouth around it, caressing it with his tongue. This causes you to moan quietly and grip the sheets beneath you. Your nipple was already so tender, so the feeling of his tongue was powerful enough to make you squirm. He lowers his hand back into your panties, rubbing your clit with his thumb. Your knees bend inward, trapping his hand between your legs. He chuckles with your nipple gently between his teeth. "Looks like you like this, huh?" You moan in response.

It didn't take long for you to feel a climax building inside you, coming closer and closer to exploding with each touch he inflicted onto your throbbing clit. Moans of all volumes filled the room as you got closer and closer. Then, right when you were about to cum, he stops. You groan in disappointment and look over at him. "I was just warming you up.", he smirks and lays on his back. "Come here.", he commands and pats on his chest, signaling for you to sit there. You do as he says and sit upon his chest. The second you sit down, His strong hands grip onto your hips and he begins to pull your body towards his face. He places you on top of his mouth. The next thing you know, your soaked pussy is being attacked by his tongue. You can't help but let a moan slip out between your lips as he closes is eyes, fully focused on bringing you maximum pleasure. He places each hand on each thigh, gripping them slightly all while his tongue swirls around your clit. You use one hand to grip the headboard of the bed and the other one to grip his hair, tangling your fingers in the grey strands. You grip harder as he sucks on your clit, causing you to throw your head back in pleasure. He let loose a few muffled moans and groans, causing vibrations on your pulsing clit. "Oh fuck Karl!", you feel your body weight sink lower and lower as you melt into the pleasure of his tongue. You begin to grind your hips back and forth, riding out your orgasm. He doesn't mind at all and begins to work harder to finally push you to your limit. With a loud moan, you cum into his mouth.

As you catch your breath and shake on top of him, he grabs you once again and pushes you over onto the bed. His beard was shiny around his lips due to a mixture of your sweat and cum. He looks down at your flustered and flushed face, pleased with what he'd done. You noticed a large bulge protruding from his pants. "I want you.", you pant as you reach over, massaging the hard lump. He responds by stripping, too breathless to verbally respond. Once he's fully naked, he makes his way onto the bed. You take him by the shoulder and pull his face into yours, initiating a passionate make out session. Your tongues caressing one another as you both toss and turn, ending up with you straddling him.

You rub his already throbbing dick, preparing for its entry. It was quite large and veiny. The hair that led from his lower stomach to his pubic area glistened with precum. You position yourself and begin to sit on his dick, letting it slowly fit inside you. Your extra wetness helped lube it. Once it was completely in, Karl groaned, grabbing your ass in his calloused hands. "Fuck.. you're so good.", he encourages. You begin to slowly rise and fall, letting your pussy stretch to comfortably fit his girth. You both moaned quietly. Once you feel comfortable, you wrap your arms around his neck and begin to bounce on it, feeling each thick vein add texture. 'What a good girl..." Every time you made your way back down, you could feel the tip of his dick reach your special spot, making your knees feel weak. As overwhelming as it felt, you couldn't stop. You continued to bounce up and down on his dick as his fingers grip your ass for dear life. "You're doing so good.", he praises you and you thank him by clashing your lips together, sharing sloppy kisses as you both moan with each up and down motion. "Such a good girl.", he begins to squeeze your breast, causing you to squeal and pick up the pace. It felt amazing, but your legs grew weaker and weaker with each motion, and he could tell. You were panting as you fucked yourself senseless on his dick.

"Wait a sec.", he gently pats your ass to get you to stop. You stop and rest your sweaty forehead to his, legs shaking beneath you. You didn't want to stop, but you weren't sure how much longer you could continue. Your legs felt like they were on fire. 'Let me help you.", his hands glide up to your waist where he clutches your sides and begins to bounce you up and down, continuing the motion you could no longer do yourself. You kiss him and whine into his lips as he slams your body up and down, grunting harder each time. "Such a pretty girl.." he pants. "Riding my cock so good..", he begins to slam his hips into you, reaching a point inside you that he's never reached before. You throw your head back and moan, tears of pleasure and bliss begin to form in your eyes. You're both exhausted and so close to finishing. You're whole body felt like it was numb and on fire at the same time as your climax creeped closer and closer.

And with a few more strong pumps into you, you both cum. He lets loose of your sides and wraps his arms around your back, drenching in sweat. You collapse on top of him, unable to move any of your body. Karl places a few more sloppy kisses across your face, his facial hair tickling your skin. "Don't you ever.. ever believe you're not good enough. Got it?", he pressures. You're too exhausted to form words, so you simply nod your head, laying down on his chest. His heart beat was rapid but soothing. Soon enough, it lulled you to sleep. He soon followed, keeping his arms wrapped tight around you the entire time.

[remsmoonlight]

— title : i need you

— word count : 2.1k words

— pairing : ryuji goda x reader

— summary : convincing ryuji of doing the opposite of what he’s set out to do is a pointless task, yet you will attempt if it gives him even one more day.

— warnings : blood, mentions of violence, some swearing, mentions of imagining of death, angst

notes : inspired by a prompt from here .. i had to do a self indulgent thingy for tumblr .. because why did they have to kill him off like that .. i tried to be dramatic as i possibly could

" none of this would've happened if you had just listened! "

A muffled silence drowns your hearing, the spinning of the Earth decelerates until it feels little more than a crawl with a weak grip. Rough cement scrapes the smoothness of your knee, leaving an angry blemish as grit fights to find its way into your bleeding wounds. No graze can pull you out of the deep end your heart finds itself fighting to stay above of, as you witness your worst fear painted perfectly on a canvas steeped in blood. The stillness of the air leaves you feeling flustered as your mind tries to make sense of what it observes before it, hoping that it’s no more than a deceptive trick played on itself by the fear you felt as you made your way up the tall structure.

A romantic thread of words have never failed in supply, but words left unsaid threaten to crush you under their weight, lost moments to time. A shudder of a breath shakily is let out, the cold air kick starts your body as you push yourself up and scramble to where the battered and bloodied body of Ryuji lays, almost motionless in pain. A childish cry to wake up from this nightmare is all you can think of, but reality does not bend to the whims of humanity, it continues with the path it has set. Resentfully, you can see the similarity that it shares with the male.

“ none of this would've happened if you had just listened! “ A broken cry full of fiery misery lick at the delicate snowflakes that descend from the heavens with a short lived grace, full of threats to burn as they penetrate your space.

The shock of the vibrancy of the liquid that escapes Ryuji leaves time standing still, you care not however, your fingertips gripping a heavy shoulder as the other lends a gentle touch to his cheek. Pain and grief masks itself as anger. You sorely wish to blame someone or something, but you had warned him.. You’d tried to reason with him that this course he’d set would leave him chasing an unattainable taste of sweetness of satisfaction that would dull with each day that dawns. A strong will that had left you in an addictive awe leaves you with a decaying taste in your mouth now, it creates an impossible amount of scars on your soul.

“ ‘Guess I should’a listened to ‘ya after all. “ He reluctantly answers, the humour unable to battle the drain out of his voice completely.

“ Why couldn’t you have just let this lie? “ A ticking pulls your attention away for a fraction of a passing second, a groan causes you to turn back.

“ Was always gonna end this way. “

A weakened grip that belongs to Ryuji ignores the resistance from his body, enduring the pain from the movement in order to experience skin against skin contact for himself once more. He wishes he could have found it within himself to have turned left, but he’d have lost himself without this self imposed purpose, fading into the background. It was selfish, to bring you into his world.. But to him? You’re an unfinished book, your words inked with glittering star dust that etch themselves into existence. He was unable to tear him away from your pages that you may have worn like wings. Selfish. To know how his story would end, yet knowing he would not be around for yours.

“ No. “ Your lips close, pushing against each other to numb the other, your features twisting into an aching grimace.

“ Can’t stop it now. “ he insists, brows drawing together as he scrunches his eyes up from the agony that throbs through every inch of flesh. “ Shit’s set in stone now. “

“ Stop it! “ You sob, hating how vulnerable you sound.

There is a sorrowful beauty in the scene, notes Ryuji. Pale beams of moonlight triumphant until the point of reaching your body that blocks it. Leaving no more than a radiant glow surrounding your head, providing an inhuman glow that illuminates your body as much as your soul — a wistful image that he’s glad to witness once more. Your being here is something of a majestic collision into a door to his person he’d fought to keep locked, if this is a departing gift he would gladly take it. He’d thought the last time he saw you would be when he unwillingly shared his plan, should this ending occur, he could take comfort in there not being a picture of you waiting at the door waiting for the other half of you to walk through the door, only to be met with a crushing realisation of never seeing him again. Only, he’d not expected you to follow in his tracks, not after he’s ignored your pleas of turning away from this path.

“ Ya better get outta here, ‘place is gonna blow soon. “

“ Not without you. “ you argue, refusing his direction — your grip strengthens ever so slightly, fearing the winter breeze has the power to boldly grow and tear you away from the man.

“ Ya got’a whole life ahead of ya. “ A twist of his heart is the dominant sensation he notices at the thought.

He wishes he could be there for it, to see the petals of your success bloom in the depths of your determination. One thing he could never understand was how, despite the tainted reputation that follows him like a shadow, never had been enough to put you off. Not a criminal tie to your name and you voluntarily merged your time and energy with his, with little care. Perhaps that’s where an addiction to his selfishness began. All his life and his Yakuza connections secluded him from genuine human connections and you’d trampled all over that with your impartial view. Many would prefer to cower in their fear, you’d scratched past the surface to see who he could be capable of being.

All the time spent together, and yet he still craves more. To linger in your orbit, time is his nemesis — for he still feels as if there has not been enough. Not the hours spent with the sun setting and you’re there by his side, when he’d spent more time committing the wonder at such a simple thing to his memory. Not the darkened hours spent together surrounded by silken sheets, and all that graced his ears was a musical symphony of breathy moans as you set about learning each other’s bodies. Never were the hours spent talking in order to hear the passion in your voice when speaking about something that interests you enough for him.

“ You can’t do this. “ You whimper softly, almost looking through the man you hold close. “ You can’t come into someone’s life, you can’t make them care about you and leave just because you want to. What did you think was going to happen? That I was going to sit by and let you do this? “

He says nothing, leaving space for a groan of pain to leave his lips as he tips his head back. He’s met with a darkened blanket where millions of stars are scattered so ungracefully, yet do not collide an uncoordinated dance across the sky. Uncertainty overwhelms him, over that is causing more pain — the wounds or the grief in your every word.

“ Just get the fuck outta here already. “ His voice echoes across the large space as he turns his attention back to you.

“ Were you lying all that time? “ You ask with a trembling lip at the thought of being without.

It feels like an endless amount of early mornings had been spent planning and chattering about the most random things. Your mind lighting up with the power of a thousand suns before the world had awoken around you. You can’t pinpoint the moment it happened, but the two of you awoke a little earlier than necessary to bathe in the image of the other — to forge a most perfect illusion of normalcy before stepping out into the real world. Mornings were not your most happiest bedfellow, yet you’d grown to love them just a little more when waking to the most simplest treat to sweeten your tongue.

“ What ya on about? “

“ All that time when we were talking, about what we were going to do? What we could do? ”

“ Why ya going on about that ? “ He asks curiously, eyeing you as you speak.

“ If you die, how are we meant to do any of it? “ Your words are rushed as you question him plainly.

“ Yer gonna .. just won’t be with me. “ Colour from the world feels as if it’s fading, merging into one bland monochrome depiction of a bright, bubbling city.

“ Can you stop?! “ A frustrated shriek tears from the bottom of your throat in response. “ I’m done talking in circles, I’m not dying here and neither are you. If I have to, I will drag you out with me. “

The world pauses in shock for a quiet fraction of a minute. To be spoken to in such a manner is not something Ryuji has experienced much in his life, even rarer by you — words that fell from your lips are always bathed in the sweetness of sugar, not an ounce of poison to anyone. Even the individuals who drew your temper out of its sleep were met with an incredible amount of restraint, he can hear the desperation — acting as a bucket of ice water to shock his nerve endings from the low temperature.

“ You did what you had to do. It wasn’t meant to be, but you can find another purpose. Build something else with your life, just.. Just come with me. Please. “

To be responsible for dragging you down with him, away from providing the world with your bright rays of sunshine in the bland day to day lives of everyone you came into contact with weighs heavily on his chest. Extra time spent with you, perhaps getting to know who his little sister has become are the treats tied onto a stick in front of him, life’s cruel bribe. He’d imagined how his ending would have been sketched by above, yet to have ties keeping him there had not been what he would have included. If he couldn’t be the one dragon, this would be a consolation prize that would allow for the petals of peace to bloom before he’d tear them down once more.

A strength he’d thought abandoned him glows with a dull hue, for a minute, he contemplates using that for Kiryu. Yet the other half of his soul wins the battle, a hand of his reaches out to push himself off from the concrete. It’s not an easy feat after being battered more than once, yet it’s not half as arduous as it could be with you supporting his weight — he’s fully aware how much of your strength he is using from your audible gasps of air.

“ Ya don’t gotta yell at me. “ he complains softly as he grips his side with as much force as he can dedicate to.

“ I don’t think it’s the time for this. “ You argue back quickly.

“ The red one. “

“ Huh? “ The sound escapes you as your features turn into a frown over how to get away from the ticking time bomb fast enough.

“ The lift, to get down. Press th’red one. “ He instructs you with a finger barely lifted, pointing in the direction of the button behind you.

You say nothing in response, the wheels in your mind working faster than your body as it moves purely on an instinctive reaction when receiving messages from your brain. Your stomach twists and turns from the descent to below, unable to process the way the city shifts into a state of obscurity from the swift movement. It would be a beautiful sight if it hadn’t attached a violent night as a parting gift.

“ You really scared me up there. “ You confess with barely a whisper. “ Can you promise me something? “

“ What’s that? “

“ That you won’t do something like this again. “ You say, with your heart hoping that he’d shy away from an impossible task should it present itself. Your eyes had seen enough hurt for one night, you’re confident you’d not be able to withstand it once more.

“ Wish I could. “

Teeth grind against the bottom of your lip, you should have known that he wouldn’t. Yet you also cannot find the strength to tear yourself away from the fire that burns within him, like a moth to a flame, you find yourself wondering how close you can stand against the heat before you flee from the pain it brings.

[notgonnarememberthis]

Exceptional - Prologue

Sherlock was made to feel unimportant his entire life. Haunted by the ghosts that his ability shows him constantly. His father "hires" Joan Watson as his sober companion, a former surgeon, the only ordinary person in a family of gifted. He finds himself wanting to protect her from whatever agenda his father has behind this decision.

_______________________________________________________

We back at it again with an AU that nobody asked for. Truthfully, this idea for a powered AU has been sitting on the back burner for a WHILE but finally the pieces clicked together thanks to the help of a couple people. Hope you all join in on this new ride because I have a LOT of exciting ideas to comb through. May or may not have ideas for a third au but I have no intention of dropping the ones already in progress. I just apparently enjoy giving myself a lot to work with.  The ground trembles under his feet almost knocking him off balance. He has to protect them at all costs so he pushes forwards into the chaos. A crack ripples through the concrete threatening to topple everything he knows in an instant. Still he marches forwards.

He bites back her fears of what, or who may lie inside waiting for him to stumble upon. A high pitched sound emanates from the building ahead, he knows it’ll hurt like hell but he can’t let them down. He followed the trail left behind, now he has to be the one to help. 

They’re depending on him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sherlock stretches out on the sofa ignoring the trill of the voice next to him. Agnes, he’s named the woman, is an older lady in her seventies insistent that she’d been unfairly killed despite Sherlock knowing for an absolute certainty that she has no recollection of at least a week before her death if not longer. He’d sketch her out later and search for a missing person’s report matching her face but he was at least hoping he could enjoy his morning before the dead started knocking incessantly.

Enjoying the morning got thrown out the door when he remembered his ‘sober companion’ was meant to arrive today. Over the years he’s grown accustomed to his father’s type of ‘help’. His help was a code word. A person of interest that he wanted to keep a stern eye on. This one, however, was the first that Sherlock had grown highly suspicious of.

Joan Watson, surgeon turned sober companion. Seemingly gifted in the medical profession until an accident with a patient had her license revoked. She never recovered and turned to helping people remain sober. A doctor was hardly something his father needed with enough power and money to lure a corrupt professional of any kind. The difference of her being, she was completely ordinary. An unremarkable person in a world of sufficient talent.

Not possessing a power is rather common, but Ms. Watson seems to be the only person in her family with such a position. This is what he suspects his father is interested in. What makes her different from her family. Her father possesses the ability to translate any language or code, her mother has a genius intellect and the ability to retain even the smallest information, and her brother has teleportation. Now she could possess a power so insignificant it is even unnoticed by herself, yet he believes this not to be the case. Coming from a person more than familiar with a useless ability, one would notice.

He pushes his father to the back of his mind rousing the woman in his bed to get ready for the day.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

She seems nice. She’s cute too.

Sherlock no longer startles at the sudden appearance of the dead in his residence. Agnes smiles at him like a grandma driving her grandchild to a teenager to a date. He furrows his brow at the woman jutting out his bottom lip in defiance. Joan Watson had been all he’d expected, annoyingly nosey and all too ordinary as he’d researched. The case had kept them busy the lot of the day so they resigned to the Brownstone for some R&R for his untrained companion.

“That’s none of my concern. She’ll be gone in a few weeks.”

You are not planning on driving that poor girl away. Agnes scolds with a frown. Sherlock deeply wishes now that he’d had time to find her peace so he could have a peaceful night to work on his experiment.

“I won’t have to. My father takes care of that plenty. I’ve had common colds that lasted longer than his help has. He’ll swoop in, offer her a new position and I will never see her again.”

I think this one is going to surprise you.

“What do you know?”

“Who are you talking to?” He spins around, surprised by the new presence in the room.

Well, are you going to introduce us? He rolls his eyes at the woman.

“Agnes, this is Joan Watson. Joan Watson, Agnes.” He gestures to where she, no doubt, sees an empty space. He turns to Agnes only to find that she is gone. He looks around for a moment, expecting her to have materialized behind Watson to study her closer but the older woman is simply gone. “Agnes is dead.”

“You can speak to the dead?” She leans against the counter with a soft exhale in amazement.

“It really isn’t all that amazing, I assure you.” Watson shakes her head.

“Your father didn’t tell me you were gifted.”

“Because my father sees my ‘gift’ as useless at best and a nuisance at worst.” Her face softens in what he almost believes is sympathy. He prepares himself for the spiel most launch into at this revelation on the borderline of tuning her out.

“Wait, why did we spend all day at a crime scene if you can talk to the dead?” His eyebrows shoot up, taken aback. “Surely you can just ask who killed them.”

“It thankfully doesn’t work like that or this job would be immeasurably boring. The victims are as unreliable as any other witness. They are spared from remembering gruesome deaths as would most in a plane crash or a wreck. Some lose a week, most lose a month. As for others, they’re hateful of the living. They take out their anger on someone who has wronged them, even if they’re entirely innocent.”

“Like an ex.”

“Precisely.” He bristles at her understanding. The last who’d understood him… “Besides, they’re decidedly less present today.”

“Maybe this one doesn’t want to be found.” He rocks back and forth at the thought, possible but not likely. “Do they always know they’re dead?”

“Not always.” He drifts for a moment, distracted by a memory. “They don’t always linger either. The ones that do have unfinished business, the ones whose lives were cut off without warning.”

“That’s where you come in.”

“Correct.” She grins to herself at the praise underneath his words. Not a lot understood his abilities, they came with a lot of underlying rules. She’s different. “What about you?”

“Me?” She runs a hand through her hair with a curt shake of her head. “No abilities. My parents tested me when I was younger but nothing.”

“Why did your parents test you.” The question comes out harsher than he intends. Concern passes over her face momentarily but she reigns it in just as quickly as it appeared.

“I’m the only one.” Any emotion that comes with the statement is stifled, one that she’s said so many times that it has lost all meaning. “It’s rare and my parents did everything to make sure I was ok.”

Sherlock nods thoughtfully. Any comment on her side is abruptly cut off by the ringing of his phone calling him back to the case once more. Yet even as they proceed his eyes linger on Watson. Seemingly useless in her family she made a name for herself in the world and still she lost it all. He shivers at how familiar the narrative sounds. Despite the annoyance at her intrusion he finds himself wanting to protect her. His father is a poison, but he won’t let him touch her. She’s perhaps the first person to understand him in ages. 

He can’t help his curiosity, but neither can she. She is attentive on the case, never once fazed by the brutality yet still remorseful. She must have been an exceptional surgeon. She listens to the details of the case, hanging onto every word even as she slipped into slumber. She’s comforting with grieving families, it evens out his harder edges.

She’d be an excellent partner, he muses.

Told you she’d surprise you.

[saikagerights]

A New Possession- Entry #8

Hello once again Saiino nation!

I am back with a new entry. Since my recent health dilemmas and work schedule, I have decided that daily entries might be a bit too far of a stretch. Summer is fast approaching, and there is so much I want to do besides work on this. That doesn't mean I'm taking a break, however. I'm just going to be laying off a bit on myself.

That being said, I hope you all enjoyed my connecting one shot, because here we see the fallout from that narrative. This dilemma will not last too long, but I wanted something to bridge between The Last Movie and the Sakura Hiden, which occur at least 3 months from eachother. I also had put some pressure on myself by switching gears to Ino's perspective and then immediately jumping back into poor, heartbroken Sai.

My boyfriend is at work as I post this, so there may be potential edits to this entry. I was so psyched about this entry that I didn't want to wait for him, lol.

Anyway, enjoy this well overdue entry, (aka the Christmas fallout)

Also available on AO3

January 5

I’m an idiot

Here I went and destroyed a friendship over my ignorance and carelessness. In an attempt to gratify Ino, I tried to perform a friendly gesture on Christmas Eve, but instead I made her unable to stand my presence. She suddenly left with no explanation, so I still don’t fully understand what I did to cause her departure. All I know is that she has now started to avoid me. I guess my “weirdness” has finally scared someone away. I am not even sure how I am supposed to apologize to her when she is not even allowing me an opportunity. I wouldn’t know what to say, regardless.

I’m not fully sure what to make of it, but I feel like there is some hidden meaning that I’m just not seeing. I’ve read extensively on women, concluding that they are complex beings that no man has ever been able to understand and Ino is definitely no exception. She seemed to have been fine the entire night with her usual straightforwardness. There had even been a few moments when something she had said caught me off guard. But it was as if it all changed when we entered my apartment that she started acting strange. Under careful observation, she appeared to fidget a lot more even after I had told her to sit still, her face shining red. There must’ve been a war going on inside her mind that I did not truly notice until she abruptly stood up.

No, I was too absorbed in my work to notice. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying myself at that moment. Being able to share with others is my main joy as an artist. Shin’s praise had been the driving force for what would later on become the only thing I consider a passion. And now that passion is being turned into a cycle of torture that I can only describe as:

Yearning…

Since the Christmas debacle, I have only wanted to create in her image. I believe this to be because I had been interrupted in my first musings of her. I have become unsatisfied. Unfinished sketches litter my floor, all of her.

Faceless...

With every attempt, I lose myself at her eyes before giving up completely and starting a new one. Temptations of going to see her just for her eyes have all but overtaken me and it’s maddening.

I’ve felt more lost than ever. Distracted by my guilt, I had missed a good chunk of Konoha’s New Years celebrations. During Lee’s annual New Year’s gathering, I felt detached. Hovering in place unaware of my surroundings as everyone else participated in the festivities, every now and then throwing glances at Ino. She had been unusually reserved that night, holding the same drink in her hand.

Ino was almost always inebriated during holiday gatherings such as these, louder and more unapologetically honest than usual. I guess she had been in her own world then and it made me feel even worse.

It’s been five days since that party, and all that time has been spent in constant regret and stuck drawing the same faceless woman.

The woman I can’t face myself.

The winter holiday is ending, so that means it will be back to work soon and my time will once again be nearly expended. Holidays for shinobi were never common, but now come more frequently since peace has been enacted between the nations. With less time on my hands means less time spent worrying over my current bonds, but also takes time away for me to prepare a proper apology.

I recently confided in Sakura, who shared my sentiments over Ino’s behavior and assuring me that it was “weird, even for her.” She had allegedly been unsuccessful in her attempts to “pry” information out of Ino, which naturally caused Sakura to also worry. They had been long term friends after all. Despite this, Sakura assured me that she would get to the bottom of it, but I would personally prefer to contact Ino myself as difficult as that might be. There has to be a way to make her see eye to eye with me so we can properly communicate.

Perhaps I just need to speak her language. And I might just have a book that can help me.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I am leading into a conclusion soon, so look out for that.

I am so happy to finally be able to have a successful writing project. I've been attempting to write like this for nearly 5 years now, and I can finally say that I am consistently writing to the best of my ability. I hope you guys are not discouraged by my slight distance from what I set out to accomplish with this fic, but with normal life slowly but surely returning to my area, I realize that it might be a little too much for me to do in my spare time.

Regardless, I want to thank you for supporting this story so far. Besides for my personal enjoyment of writing, I prioritize the comprehension and feelings of my readers. So once again, thanks a bunch and as always criticism and comments are welcome!

Until next time (whenever that may be)

-Saikage

[swampgh0stt]

I saw someone on twitter??? say something along the lines of “why don’t we get sketch dumps but for fic writers” & you know what? Sure. I’ve got so much half-finished/unfinished/never-gonna-touch-again crap.

This is something for my Urban Fantasy (Keet’ka), after the wendigo!Teach set his sights on Ace. After biting Ace & critically injuring him, the hunt began, but he’s got one more magical creature in human form blocking his way: Deuce.

Deuce is only a little dolphin spirit, but he still tries his best to protect Ace. 

There was no real need to remind them of who he is, as if they could ever forget. They were all a family in the Fire House, as it should be. Without close bonds formed between them, they would not nearly be as effective as they were. Some of them knew about things beyond the norm– knew of the magic in the world, though not intimately– while others had gone through their lives in blissful ignorance. Whatever the case may be, they were all believers that night, and they were all willing to defend not only their own, but the citizens of their city from this monstrosity.

The wendigo did not threaten just them, after all. It’s presence was a threat to everyone who lived here.

Crafty, voracious, powerful; silent and deadly, the monster waged war on the civil servants at their home base. Water shot forth to stop him, creating steamy fog in the cold air. He was chipped away slowly, by those powerful hoses, but it was only chipping away. The beast slammed his clawed hand into the concrete flooring of the apparatus bay, his claws piercing through the bottom with ease. Cracks spidered out from each puncture, swallowed up instantly by the blackness he secreted.

It crawled over the floor, smoky and domineering, creeping up the sides of the firetrucks it reached. They begun to sink down with the sounds of crunching metal and popping tires, getting crushed by the gravity and darkness below. There were fighters on board, some trying to flee only to get caught up by the darkness itself. The monster turned on Skull as well, charging and catching with his antlers as he faked one attack and made a move in the opposite direction instead.

Gored through with vicious precision, the fireman was thrown back towards the ever present darkness on the floor, smashed down again by a bony tail as the wendigo disappeared into the firehouse.

If there was one thing Deuce knew for certain, it was that Ace could not be moved again. He sent out his alert to Marco, even tried to reach the nearby police station for any sort of assistance. They had their militarized gear, so certainly they could do something, offer something, surely.

His partner had left. No one needed to throw their lives away. (What Deuce didn’t know is that he left to assist downstairs, and was now getting torn through with ease, just as a knife cuts through butter). He was alone up here, save for Ace, and he would do anything to ensure that beast didn’t get in this room. When he heard the tell-tale scrape of nails scrambling across concrete floors, Deuce knew it was time.

With a heavy beating heart and a somber acceptance, he stepped out into the hallway and shut the door behind him.

"You’re not getting through,” he declared boldly, his head held high and his shoulders thrown back. This is the first time he had ever seen a wendigo in person, and already it had grown to an impressive size. The bigger they are, the more deadly they are.

The beast itself could hardly fit in the open hallways of the firehouse. He kept his head low, to spare his antlers from tearing through the ceiling above, and his claws groped along the walls at his sides. He would have a hard time getting into the small dorm room on his own, but it was not impossible.

Deuce stood his ground with tight shoulders and utter determination– until the beast spoke. “Don’t you have a porno to write, Dolphin-boy?” The monster laughed, and through the growling overtones… his voice was familiar.

Blue eyes widened in a mix of clarity and horror. Deuce’s body tensed, he reared back, gasped the name: “Teach-!?” But any query that may have followed was cut off with a swing of an arm and the impact of claws swiping over him.

Blood painted the walls and floor in a spray.

Small spaces were usually their friend in this situation. However, Teach was less inclined to turn tail and recalculate when there was another powerful spirit just before him and bleeding out from open wounds. He could come back to devour Deuce later... after he made quick work of Ace, just beyond that closed door.

“Teach!” Deuce’s voice was ragged from the pain and anger he felt. He smashed reddened knuckles into the brick wall beside him, splattering more of his own blood against it. “Was I done talking to you!?” He shouted out, daring to take a step closer.

If someone had told his parents that he would end up here, defending humans, taking a last stand for the son of Keet in the cramped hallways of a firehouse, they might have scoffed at the thought. Their son had never been a shining example of any sort of potential. His parents were mostly indifferent to him– didn’t hate him, but didn’t particularly care for him either. He squandered away far too much time on human’s fiction and literature to show anything worthy of praise.

They never would have expected their son, who spent so much time with his head in the clouds, to stand in the face of death itself and spit back at it. Bitterly, he thought that maybe, just maybe, they could spare a shred of acceptance and pride for their lost cause of a son. But, that life was long behind him now, lost to the passing years. Who he was before had been killed when he met Ace, when he was given a chance to reinvent himself, become someone he wanted to be.

He would not regret the decisions that brought him here. He would not regret the open gashes from shoulder-to-hip, cutting across his figure, threatening to tear him in half had he been human like some other victims that fell this night.

Teach snarled again, scrabbling for purchase in the cramped space of the hallway. His claws sunk into the walls again as he heaved– and lunged. The heavy, gaunt body smashed into the writer, barreling through the smaller space and down one of the stairways. Teach found himself caught in the doorway, sending Deuce forward.

His body rolled down the stairs, falling onto another platform with blood trailing behind him. Even now, with his body trying to give out, his limbs shaking from effort, legs begging to collapse and knees buckling beneath him, he used the stair railing for support to pick himself up.

He can’t help but to feel proud in the slightest bit, watching as the monster that Teach had turned into was scrambling to get through, his tongue lapping at the blood on the floor in desperation. He had successfully lured the beast away from Ace, and he still had an easy escape route (that he would not take) behind him.

[taesthetes]

Double-Cross (my heart and hope to die).

Flirting is not the best strategy to fall towards when you might be arrested. It may have to be your last resort if needed, but you have not reached that point of desperation. Well, not yet at least. But god damn, he looks like he would be a good kisser.

pairing: jung hoseok x reader genre: fluff type: enemies to lovers + police au word count: 9,202 words warnings: none author’s note: i hope the fbi doesn’t come after me for my questionable google searches for research. i understand there are proper police procedures, like not letting the witness go until the full statement is taken, and that abetting crime is an offense, but for the sake of this fic, please disregard that one bit.

➵ bangtan police unit: a collab with @milknotes

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

 If your mother saw you now, she would be horrified.

Dressed in all black, from your black Converse to black jeans with a hooded sweater in a matching shade, you briefly indulge in your childhood fantasy of being a ninja as you nimbly leap across the three-foot gap between the closely situated two story, flat roofed buildings. Adrenaline rushes through your veins when you make it to the other side, a smile spreading across your face as you steady yourself. The dark colored backpack you had slung over your shoulders mutes the jangled noises inside it from the metal canisters you haphazardly threw in twenty minutes ago. You immediately grab either side of your bag, silencing the noise. Luckily, there are not many people out and about this part of the city at this time of night, thus lowering the number of any witnesses to a zero.

You quickly scan your surroundings, eyes well-adjusted to the nighttime, searching for any security cameras and guards patrolling nearby that you may have missed during your daytime survey. Your search proves fruitless, and you are satisfied, walking towards the blank billboard positioned on top of the building. Clambering up the ladder after putting on gloves, you reach the ledge extending from the large white canvas and drop your bag, unzipping it immediately to pull out several spray cans.

You had spotted the empty billboard a week ago on your way back from an interview at a coffee shop called Déjà Brew, and you have been itching to cover it in brilliant colors ever since. Dozens upon dozens of sketches were made in one of your moleskin notebooks, and you finally settled on the final design. The all-nighter you are about to pull for this artwork is going to be no different than staying up studying for the midterm you had for your Forensics Litigation class eight days ago.

You have always found great pleasure in the irony of being a graduate student attending a law school while simultaneously causing quite a few violations against the legal system as your city’s Banksy-esque Andy Warhol.

Putting on a disposable facemask to block the fumes, you then pick up a canister of blue spray paint and shake it before uncapping it. Taking a deep breath, you press down on the nozzle and begin the background of your masterpiece. So the fun begins. Creating art is almost therapeutic to you, and to be more specific, graffiti is just downright satisfying. It is your equivalent of the universal middle finger salute towards the legal system and towards the degree you so dearly hate. But, as your high school art teacher once said, you need a day job—i.e. accountant or lawyer or whatever stable job there is—to fund your night job, more affectionately known as being an artist. You bet your teacher never thought you would take her words in the literal sense, yet here you are.

The sound of a car rumbling down the street is heard, and instinctively, you get down flat on your stomach. Peering over the ledge, you see a police car making its rounds. It drives into the parking lot of the McDonald’s on the corner, and you groan, wriggling around in your position. An officer leaves the parked car, entering the garishly lighted fast food restaurant, and you want to beat your fist against the metal rungs in frustration. There is no way you are going to continue your art when the police are a few buildings away. You like the thrill that comes with breaking a few laws and the possibility of getting caught, but you certainly are not stupid. Stupidity does not go well on any resume.

You observe silently as the cop rushes out of the restaurant very quickly and hops back into his car, empty handed. You wait for the car to start and move out, but it remains parked. Finally, two cops—the one from before and a new one—emerges from the car and enters the restaurant. A few minutes later, they come out with a young woman in tow. You rest your chin on your hand, propping up your head, as you look on with slight interest. They begin to question her from the looks of it, and you almost tumble over the edge in surprise when the shrill protest voicing several NO!’s is heard along with a shrill cry for “Jooks” and “Kookoo”? You steady yourself and watch as the officers finally manage to calm the girl down and get her to sit in the backseat. When the patrol car starts up and leaves the parking lot, turning the corner and going out of sight, you finally rise up from your position. Stretching your arms for a moment first, at last, you turn back to your unfinished artwork.

When the sky turns to shades of yellow and orange as the sun slowly begins to peek out amongst the skyscrapers, announcing the dawn of a new day, you finish the last curve of your signature in the far bottom left corner, using a small airbrush. The small, curled letters spelling out “Eden” shines due to the fleeting seconds of wet paint. You run your fingertips over the instantly dried letters, tracing every swoop and line with a satisfied smile before collecting your empty canisters and place them back into your backpack, shouldering the bag once more. You clamber down the ladder and deftly retrace your steps back down to ground level, pulling off the gloves and face mask and stuffing them into the front pocket of your hoodie.

Glancing behind you as you make your way back to your shared apartment, you grin as the first rays of sunlight hit the masterpiece you left behind.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

 “They’ve done it again.”

Lieutenant Yoongi tosses the newspaper onto his desk, his badge glinting in the light, as he rubs his temple with his forefinger tiredly. The black bold letters emblazoned across the top stand out against the gray paper, announcing the pop-up of Eden’s latest work on top of an apartment building. A large photograph of the art piece is shown below the headline. Yoongi remembers passing by that blank billboard for several months now on his way to work. It is amazing how some graffiti work can skyrocket a supposed four digit value to seven digits, according to the advertising company who sold the board this morning.

“Who?” Hoseok sits in the chair across from Yoongi’s desk, one leg crossed over the other leisurely. He picks up the discarded newspaper, scanning the front page, as Yoongi answers his question.

“The graffiti artist, Eden. They left another painting on that billboard near McDonald’s.”

“It’s pretty.” Hoseok gazes at the picture beneath the black letters. With an asymmetrical background consisting of geometric lines mirroring architect blueprints behind it in technicolor, a field of sunflowers are painted onto the board. In replacement of the roots, there are lightbulbs hanging from the stem. “It’s a nice gesture towards solar energy.”

“Graffiti is illegal. Just because it’s pretty doesn’t mean law violations can be ignored,” Yoongi reminds him, leaning back against his chair and picking up another casefile to rifle through. “I know you like their art a lot, but Eden defaced public property, and this isn’t Venice Beach.”

“It’s not like they’re painting on highway signs and important monuments though. It’s just empty walls and unimportant places. They make the place look prettier and brings up tourism and value to the building owners. That flower shop—What in Carnation? was the name, I think—was about to close, but they painted the store's outer wall and brought customers back.”

“It’s still a violation.”

“So are you saying we’re going to arrest Eden? Start a press conference and announce the search for some mystery figure whose art the people enjoy?”

“No, that’s far too much work, and we have other more pressing cases to get through,” Yoongi sighs, “Just tell the officers on night patrol to keep an eye out, you know, on places like other empty billboards, open walls, and the likes. And that McDonald’s breaks aren’t allowed. We don’t want to babysit any more drunk exes.”

“But Jungkook brought you extra doughnuts as an apology today.”

“… Tell him to keep the McDonald’s breaks to a minimum of one patrol per week.”

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 Stepping out of the classroom after your last lecture in Criminology and Criminal Procedure, you say a quick goodbye to your friends before putting on your headphones and making the trek back to your apartment. Your professor assigned several case studies to read through and take notes on, and you luckily have a couple of hours to get started on them before your first shift at Déjà Brew. Passing under a familiar powder blue and white striped awning with gold trimming, you halt in your steps, debating with yourself for a few moments, before entering Sprinkles. You always study better in someplace that is not your home anyway.

The cozy interior is well lit with lights overhead that provides a soft, warm glow to the place. The décor gives off a sort of modern take on a 1950s diner atmosphere due to the black and white checkered floors and white counters with pale blue spinning stools to sit on along with several matching tables and chairs. However, your eyes are immediately drawn to the glass display cases exhibiting some of the prettiest doughnuts you have ever seen. You secretly check to make sure you are not visibly drooling.

 “Hey, _______!” Jisoo greets you happily as she places three pristine sprinkled doughnuts in a pale blue box behind the counter. A young man around your age sits by the counter, and his eyes, pooling with something akin to mischief and curiosity, flicker towards your approaching figure. You study him carefully from the corner of your eye as you wave to Jisoo before slipping onto one of the empty stools, a few seats away from the man. His silver, slightly messy hair nearly reaches his eyes, effectively covering his eyebrows, and his thin, patterned tie is somewhat undone over a white dress shirt with a few buttons already undone, loosely tucked into his dress pants. He gives you a bright grin, and you flush a little, but return his gesture with a smile of your own.

“Here you go, Tae.” Jisoo hands the completed box over to the man, and an even larger smile makes his way across his face before he thanks her.

“Thank you! See you tomorrow!” He waves at her before flashing you another easygoing smile and leaving the shop.

“So what’s happening tomorrow?” You send an impish smirk towards your friend, and her cheeks turn a rosy red.

“Nothing! He just comes by to pick up doughnuts for the police station every morning.”

“But it’s the afternoon. Does he inhale doughnuts or something?” You absentmindedly say, pulling your laptop out of your bag and onto the counter along with the printed out casefiles your professor handed out at the end of the lecture. Rummaging around the bottom of your bag, you take out your highlighters and pen and place them next to your laptop, turning on the device afterwards.

“No, he likes the sprinkled ones, but his boss, Yoongi, likes old fashion glazed doughnuts, and he usually gets only that type every morning for the whole squad. So he comes back later for the sprinkled ones.” Jisoo places a sugar powdered doughnut in front of you, and you thank her, making a mental note to slip a few bills in the glass jar labelled “tips” later. She always refused to let you pay her, but you manage to sneak in some money through tips when she is not looking.

“But he could get his sprinkled doughnuts in the morning still.” A sly look creeps onto your face before you continue, “He likes you.”

“Shut up.” Her face burns scarlet as she turns away from you. “He does not.”

“Yes, he does.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“Yes, he does.”

“No, h—Oh, hello, welcome to Sprinkles!”

Jisoo stands up straighter, smiling politely at the new group of high school aged customers, and you snicker quietly, ignoring the pointed look she directs at you. You start to focus on your work, powering through the thick stack of cases and highlighting the important pieces of information, writing notes of your own on the edges.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

 Two weeks later, you are absolutely exhausted from the all-nighters and long hours at the library, but midterm season is finally over. You had finished taking your last midterm three hours ago in which you were proven correct that you should have studied the Wong Sun v. United States case in greater detail. But what is done is done, and your fingers are itching to grasp another spray can and paint your newest idea for a pollution piece on the wall near Cuppo Noodles. The canisters hidden in your bag clank against each other as you weave your way around other sleep deprived students coming home from late class midterms. The sun has already set, leaving the faintest traces of light behind, and it is only a short matter of time when the night sky will cloak over the city and provide you the perfect coverage.

You drop by the convenience store, deciding to treat yourself to some ice cream, as you wait for the number of people outside and within the vicinity to thin out. After all, the less number of witnesses the better. You find a place to sit in the front of the store, slipping onto the stool and placing your purchase on the counter table in front of you. From your vantage point, you can see through the shop glass, monitoring the social activity and scoping out the wall that can just barely be seen if you strain your neck a little to the right.

Scooping out a hefty amount of Ben and Jerry’s Everything But The… straight out of the pint and onto your spoon, you almost moan out loud when the sweet dessert hits your tongue. Indulging in one of your guilty pleasures should make you feel, well, guilty, but you do not. The ice cream is well deserved after two weeks of midterms. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. When the tip of your spoon scrapes the bottom of the carton, you look longingly at the other cartons stacked neatly in the freezer, almost beckoning at you to buy another one. But temptation is fleeting in front of desire, and you desire nothing more than to paint your piece onto the bricks. Noticing the lack of activity outside the now quiet street, lit up by the lampposts, you take it as your cue to leave, throwing away the empty cardboard container and stepping out of the convenience store. Briefly stopping to drop your bag at your feet momentarily, you pull on a dark zip-up hoodie and then put on the backpack once more.

From any passerby’s point of view, you probably look very shady, but no one is in sight. The majority of the people who frequent these streets are usually students who go to the university, and around this time, especially on a Friday night after many midterms came to an end, they are all much too preoccupied with beer pong and shots at parties on Greek Row a few streets over. Aside from the cashier wearing noise cancelling headphones who is more interested in the tabloid magazine she is thumbing through than the girl who was eating ice cream alone, you do not see anyone else around. With the odds in your favor, you easily make it to the wall, ducking into the small alleyway. It was not exactly a street, but more of a small walkway with small shops lined on either side. Setting down your bag, you pull out a pair of gloves and a facemask, donning them on, before reaching into your backpack and grasping for the purple spray paint can. You uncap the canister and begin to paint, a satisfied smile making its way across your face, hidden beneath the black facemask.

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 No one, especially when they are drunk, ever notices the figure dressed in dark clothing who blends quite easily into the shadows. And the six people who had passed by you at various times throughout the night were very much intoxicated. The moonlight does not provide much light and works to your advantage, creating the cloak of darkness that you effortlessly merge into. You hold a flashlight in one hand and a spray can in the other. Four hours pass by easily, and you are three quarters done with your art piece by the time the clock strikes 2 A.M. The background and overall shapes and colors of each item have taken shape, and you are almost tingling with excitement to begin your favorite part: the details. Details make the art or break it. They bring any piece to life with just an extra splash of color here or an extra dash and line there.

Rummaging around your bag for the airbrush, you suddenly hear the incoming sounds of tires screeching against the asphalt. You look up, eyes widening when you spot two cars racing down the street at an alarming rate, and your mind somehow knows what is going to happen a split second before it does.

A resounding crash! is heard before the second car stops in its place and the first car rams against a fire hydrant with a sickening thud.

Heart racing, you wonder if you should go out there and check on the people. A deafening silence fills the air for the entirety of three seconds before loud screams suddenly fill the air as the two drivers emerge from their vehicles, surprisingly unscathed and unbelievably furious.

“You fucking bitch! Look what you did to my car! You’re gonna pay for this!” The man is seething as he stalks towards the woman, who looks up from her car against the hydrant with fury radiating from her skin.

“I’ll pay for it when you pay the damn alimony and child support!” the woman screams back. “Besides, you hit my car, asshole!”

“There is no alimony! My lawyer already told you that!”

“There will be after this new lawsuit!”

Hurriedly, you scoop all your supplies back into your bag as quietly as possible, zipping it up and carefully putting it on to avoid any of the cans from clashing. All the shops nearby are already closed, and no one else is close by. Your hand finds your phone in the back pocket of your jeans, quickly pulling it out and searching for the anonymous tip number with shaky hands. You dial it, and when someone answers, your voice comes out in hushed whispers.

“Hello? Yes, I’d like to report anonymously a car accident near Atwood Avenue and Bowman Street—Yes, Bowman Street. The car crash looks bad, but it doesn’t look like anyone is hurt—Yes, I can see them. They got out of their cars, and they’re screaming at each other… I’m afraid they’re going to get violent… I’m hiding right now—Yes, okay, thank you.”

A few minutes later, the sound of sirens are heard, and the police cars slow to a stop in front of the accident. The officers and EMTs step out of the vehicles, walking towards the arguing couple. The erratic pounding of your heart slows down considerably as you breathe a sigh of relief. The man, on the other hand, seems to have opposite feelings than you about the police showing up. He immediately starts running, and with growing horror, you realize he is running towards the alleyway you are cooped up in. You press yourself against the wall, huddling in the shadows of a large planter and some folded up tables and chairs.

The man runs past you without notice, and the sound of footsteps rapidly approaching forces you to burrow into your hiding space even farther. Two police officers, one who looks like he belongs in a gym and another with rather spindly legs, rush past you. After waiting a few minutes with bated breath, you stand up from your position, cautiously making your way out of the alley.

Only to be met with another pair of officers.

Immediately, you are blinded with a bright light, and you let out a noise of surprise, hand coming up to cover your eyes.

“Taehyung! You’re not supposed to do that!” A soft voice scolds the supposed officer who made you temporarily lose your vision. The light is immediately lowered, and you try to blink away the spots to see clearly again.

“Wait… I think I know her though. Were you at Sprinkles?” The officer with the flashlight peers intently at your face, and you squint, trying to make out his features before finally making sense of the situation. You recognize that silver hair. “Jisoo didn’t tell me her boyfriend was a cop.”

The flashlight falls with a clatter to the ground as Taehyung looks startled before suppressing a grin. “She called me her boyfriend?”

You rub your eyes slightly, blinking rapidly as your vision returns to normal. “No, I just assumed. You’re not her boyfriend?”

“No, he just wants to be.” The softer voice cuts in again before he can respond. A man dressed in the same uniform as Taehyung, but of shorter stature, comes into your view. “What were you doing out here?”

“I was out for a walk, and I heard running, and my instinct kicked in.” You shrug before shifting the bag on your shoulder a bit. “Can I go now?”

“You were out for a walk this late?”

You squint slightly and are able to make out the name on his uniform. “Yes. Is that a crime, Officer Park?”

“Wearing that?” Taehyung blurts out as he stares at your all black ensemble dubiously.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was talking to the fashion police.” Taehyung flushes and gives you a sheepish smile. You cross your arms over your chest. “Can I go now, officers?”

“Not yet. What’s in your bag?” Officer Park questions.

“My belongings.” Your irritation is about to bubble to the surface. This is what you get for trying to do a good deed and reporting an accident.

“May I see?” Officer Park comes closer, his hand reaching out, before you take a few steps back.

“Do you have probable cause?”

“Do you have something to hide?”

You open your mouth to answer when Taehyung pipes up. “Nevermind that. Did you see anything when you were walking? There was an accident. Did you hear anything?”

You pause for a moment. “I heard yelling and sirens.”

“Would you come down to the station to make a witness statement?”

“No.” You start to back away again. “I really need to go home now. I have classes the next day, and I need to sleep now.”

“Ma’am, you need to come with us.” Officer Park steps forward, grabbing your arm, and your eyes narrow as your body jerks back from his grasp. You briefly glance over to the ambulance where the woman sits in the back, seething, as an EMT checks her over. She throws over a glare that sends a shiver up your spine.

“You have a witness over there.”

“But she’s also involved in the accident. We need you to come down to the station.”

“Am I being arrested?”

“Jimin, wait.” Taehyung grasps Officer Park’s wrist, pulling him back, before turning towards you, pleading. “Please just come with us down to the station? The statement won’t take long. You’re not under arrest.”

You hesitate. Taehyung’s eyes are filled with sincerity, but Jimin looks like he is already ready to whip out a ticket for you with the way he stares you down. Your eyes flicker back to Taehyung, and you curse yourself for thinking of your friend at this moment. Gosh darn it, she really seems to like this Taehyung dude, you internally groan.

With a sigh, you nod, and Taehyung grins in relief before gesturing you to follow him to the car. Jimin trails behind you suspiciously, and you send him a well-pointed scowl, which causes his face to morph into one of surprise for a split second before he returns the look. You quicken your pace and hover around the car’s side with the passenger seat uncertainly as Taehyung gets into the driver’s seat, flicking on the police radio.

“So am I going to have to sit in the back?”

“No.” Jimin speaks up, leaning against the hood of the car. “We have to stay here and watch over the lady and wait for the other two officers to come back with our runaway suspect, so Taehyung is calling in for the sergeant to come pick you up.”

“Okay.”

A slightly uncomfortable silence overtakes the short lived conversation, and you pull at the loose thread on your sweater sleeve mindlessly. The sound of a car door slamming shut is heard as Taehyung comes around the front of the car and murmurs to Jimin that someone named Hoseok will be here in a few minutes. You assume he is the sergeant Jimin mentioned earlier.

Your assumption proves to be correct when a car identical to the two already here appears, and the man that steps out introduces himself to you. “I’m Sergeant Jung, but you can call me Hoseok. You’re our witness?”

“Yes… unfortunately.” You mumble the last part under your breath as Hoseok guides you to his car, opening the passenger door for you to slide in. You settle into the seat, clutching your backpack to your chest. Hoseok speaks to the two officers, and they gesture towards the alleyway, mentioning an Officer Jeon and an Officer Kim. The sergeant jogs over to the area, looking around for a bit with a flashlight, before returning with a frown. He shakes his head at something Jimin says before coming over and getting into the driver’s seat. He starts the car, and Taehyung waves at you, while Jimin still holds a look of suspicion directed towards you on his face.

“So,” Hoseok clears his throat, and you turn to look at him. “What were you doing out here this late?”

“Did the police academy teach all of you to start a conversation with that, Sarge?”

“What?” Hoseok looks taken aback, and you turn forward, focusing on the white dashed lines on the black asphalt.

“Never mind. I don’t understand why I have to come down to the station. I heard screaming and sirens. That’s all. Do you really need me to write that down on a piece of paper?”

“Are you sure that’s all?”

“Why wouldn’t I be sure? Are you doubting my ears now?”

Hoseok glances over at you silently before focusing on his driving. The rest of the ride remains quiet, and you pull out your phone, replying to a few unopened text messages. In particular, you send a message to Jisoo, telling her where you were and why. A flurry of worried texts appears on your phone, asking if you are alright and if she needed to come down. You send a quick message back, assuring her that you are okay and that you will keep her updated, before Hoseok pulls up in front of the police station.

“We’re here.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

 The two of you are seated in a small room, similar to a conference room. At least you were not put in an interrogation room, you muse to yourself, settling down into the office chair. You had caught a glimpse of the stoic lieutenant in his office, and the piercing stare he gave you when he looked up made you walk closer to the sergeant in front. Said sergeant now slides a yellow paged notepad in front of you, placing a pen on top of it. Your backpack remains in your lap as you grab the writing utensil.

“Please write your name and what you saw and heard.” Hoseok states, and you give him a curt nod before printing your name on top and rapidly penning down the events that took place.

I was taking a walk around 2 A.M. when I heard a loud crash. There was screaming. The man threatened the woman, and the woman was yelling about alimony and child support. The woman said she would file a new lawsuit. I hid behind the dumpster. I was there for a few minutes before I heard sirens. I saw the man run past me and two officers followed behind him. I stayed there for a few more minutes before getting out of my hiding spot. Then, Officer Kim shined his flashlight in my face, and Officer Park interrogated me.

“There. Can I go now?” You watch cautiously as Hoseok picks up the paper and reads through what you have written. His eyebrows furrow slightly before he puts down the notepad.

“So, _______... are you sure this is it?”

“I wrote what I saw and heard, like you asked.”

There is a muffled noise near the door, and the two of you immediately look over, but hear nothing else. Wanting to resume the conversation, Hoseok hesitates before tentatively saying, “You see, we received an anonymous tip on that car accident. The officers were on the scene in less than a few minutes. The stores nearby were all closed, and you were the only one there, besides the two in the accident. So my theory is that you were the one who called.”

“That’s an interesting thought, Sarge, but you can’t hold me here for a theory. So I’ll be going now.” You move to stand up, but Hoseok stands up quickly situating himself in your line of path.

“Please. We only have the female in custody, but they’re still in pursuit of the male. You’re the only one who can provide an unbiased account of what happened.”

“I’m sorry, but I really have to leave.” You clutch your bag a little tighter to your chest, and Hoseok’s eyes flit towards the backpack.

“What’s in the bag?”

“My belongings. Officer Park already asked me this. Can you please move so I can leave?”

“May I see it?”

“No, you may not.”

“Are you hiding something?” He reaches out for your bag, and you pull back.

“This is my personal property, and you cannot search it without probable cause.”

“You’re on public property.”

“The bag has been in my possession this entire time and has not touched the floor. Are you really trying to argue that there has been some sort of property transference the moment I step on public property?”

The sergeant raises an eyebrow before pulling his hands back. “No, I’m sorry. But you were out for a walk wearing that?”

“There’s nothing illegal about taking a walk in dark clothes.” You pause. “Look, I came in here to give you a witness statement out of the good of my heart because Officer Kim asked. If you’re turning this into some sort of interrogation, then you have no grounds to hold me, and I will be leaving now.”

Hoseok sighs before motioning to the pad. “Okay. You can go now.”

He sits there lost in thought, tapping his finger against the surface. He contemplates over his next actions, carefully scrutinizing you. Hoisting your backpack over your shoulder, you walk out of the room before you hear him call out, “Do you need a ride home? It’s the least I can do for you helping us.”

You stop in your tracks. It is late after all, and walking back to your place at this time of night alone is not the safest decision. “Yes, please.”

You and Hoseok walk through the station wordlessly. You see the two officers who had run past you in the alley, locking up the man in one of the holding cells. The taller one raises an eyebrow towards Hoseok, who hand motions something towards the man with a nod. The two of you leave the building and reach his squad car, and you situate yourself into the passenger seat once more. Hoseok waits for your seatbelt to click on before pulling out of his parking space. You give him the directions to your apartment, and he punches it into the GPS.

“So are you a student?” Hoseok asks, and you stop fiddling with the small keychain hooked onto your bag.

“Yes.”

Hoseok suppresses a smile at your curt answer. “What are you studying?”

“I’m a third year law student.”

“Huh. Figures.”

You turn towards the sergeant. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“There’s something ironic about a law student moonlighting as a graffiti artist, isn’t there?” he casually states, and your blood runs cold. You freeze in your spot for a millisecond before turning towards the man. A small smirk plays on his lips as he gently taps his finger against the steering wheel, waiting for the light to turn green.

“What are you talking about?”

“I saw the art when I went to check the alleyway. I bet if I check your bag right now, I’d find spray cans and paint matching the paint on the wall. And, I believe I do have probable cause now to check it.”

He pulls over onto the side of the street beneath one of the street lights. The yellow glow casts various shades of light onto his face. You admit you would be shamelessly admiring his side profile had you not been in this current predicament, sweating it out at the moment. Flirting is not the best strategy to fall towards when you might be arrested. It may have to be your last resort if needed, but you have not reached that point of desperation. Well, not yet at least. But god damn, he looks like he would be a good kisser. Focus on the situation, you chide yourself, stop getting distracted by the hot sergeant.

“Unfortunately for you, Sarge, spray paint is generic. Hundreds of people buy it. Hypothetically, if I had some and it matched, it would be a coincidence.”

“Perhaps. But I have enough for reasonable suspicion.”

“What if I give you a full witness statement in exchange for letting me go on this hypothetical misdemeanor?”

Hoseok stays quiet, and you can hear your heartbeat thudding erratically in your chest. If this goes on your record, it will definitely result in a blow to your career’s credibility. You swallow hard, clutching your bag even tighter to your chest, as your hands form fists, nails pressing crescent shaped marks into your palms.

“Now that’s not really a fair deal, is it?”

“I would have to do a hundred hours of community service if I am charged. You, on the other hand, without the witness statement, would be involved in a civil suit between two people who are clearly in the midst of a bad divorce. Do you really want to be tied up with days, maybe months, of court appearance and paperwork? And you know damn well how long divorce lawyers will prolong their cases until they milk both sides dry of their money.”

You can see Hoseok swallow hard when the full weight of your words hit him, his Adam’s apple bobbing. You got him: hook, line, and sinker. You have the upper hand now. You had heard the lieutenant of the Bangtan Police Unit was a hard ass, but perhaps lady luck was shining upon you because you got the sergeant instead. Hiding your smirk, you continue, “And I can sue your officers—Officer Park and Officer Kim, was it? —for harassment. I will be suing for the way Officer Park was interrogating me earlier after Officer Kim nearly blinded me when I was walking back. Officer Park roughly grabbed my arm. I’ll also be needing the footage from his body camera as evidence.”

Hoseok nearly swears out loud. Jimin had always been a good officer, but his recent break up has clouded his judgement for the past few weeks. He decides to put out his last bargaining chip. “Now, let’s not be hasty here. I’m sure we can work this out… right, Miss Eden?”

All the cards have been pulled out now. The both of you have played your last pawn, but it is your turn to move. And hearing that moniker slip through his teeth, your heart drops through your ribcage for a second time that night. “What did you call me?”

Hoseok tilts his head to the right, a half smile peeking out on his face. “Eden. Who knew the famous law-breaking artist of our city is also a good Samaritan? That’s why you called in an anonymous tip. Because you were committing a law infraction yourself.”

“I’m not Eden. I’m a very big fan of their work though.”

He chuckles, “Really? So you’re telling me that if I drop you off at your address, you’re not going to go back to that wall and paint the rest? And I won’t find the Eden signature at the bottom? I know you artists are very particular with credit.”

You stay silent, and Hoseok smiles in satisfaction. “I thought so. How about this: it’s late, and we both need sleep. You can come back in the morning and give me a full witness statement. I’ll drop any charges on vandalism, and you drop that civil suit against my officers.”

“Any charges on vandalism?”

“Yes.”

You hesitate. “Will you tell anyone?”

“No, I won’t. I promise. Cross my heart, and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.”

You let out a tiny smile at the childish rhyme. “Why?”

Hoseok shrugs. “You called in the crime, while you were committing a crime, too. You were willing to get caught for the safety of others. I don’t know if that makes you a good person or an idiot. I’m still debating.”

“Hey!”

He chuckles, “Do we have a deal or not?”

“Okay, fine, deal.”

“Good. Now here’s my number. You call me if anything goes wrong, but try not to get caught, okay?”

“Wha—” You confusedly take the slip of paper he hands you, but your sentence cuts off short when you see the car is parked near a very familiar alleyway. Wide eyed, you look back at him as he shrugs before gesturing for you to go.

“I thought you might, you know, want to walk back to your place. From here. Instead.”

Scrambling, you open the door and step out, tossing the backpack over your shoulders. You step out onto the sidewalk before closing the car door. He rolls down the window, calling out, “I’ll be going back to the station now. Remember to come back in the morning. Stay safe and be careful, Miss Eden.”

You stand on the edge of the sidewalk, fingers curled around the scrap of paper, and watch as his car disappears around the corner. You smile softly to yourself before sending a quick text to Jisoo and entering the smaller alley street. Sliding the paper slip into your back pocket, you put down your backpack and pull out a white spray can.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

 “Sergeant, you remember that girl you picked up for the witness statement?”

Jimin stands in front of Hoseok’s desk, clutching a newspaper in his hand. Hoseok slowly looks up from the paperwork scattered across the table surface, putting down the fountain pen with a small thud against the wood. Peering up at his officer, he quickly melds his face into one of indifference.

“Yes, what about her?”

His officer drops the inked paper onto his desk. “Look at this. Eden left another art piece on the wall of the same alleyway we caught her. Do you think she’s the artist?”

Unbelievable. The newspapers already swooped around the art like vultures. It has not even been five hours since he had dropped you off there. Emblazoned across the top in black and white is a large, bold headline about another Eden artwork cropping up in the city.

“I checked that alley with a flashlight, remember? I didn’t see this there when I looked around.” He taps the picture on the front page of the newspaper. Technically, he thinks to himself, what he says is true. He only saw the partially completed image then, not the entirely finished work.

“Maybe she was going to paint, but that accident happened. Did you check her bag? Maybe she went back and painted it after giving her witness statement.” Jimin persists, and for once, Hoseok wishes Jimin is not as thorough at his job as he usually is.

“Her bag was cleared. She’s coming back here sometime soon to give her statement. I personally drove her back. She gave me her home address. She also mentioned something about you grabbing her arm.” Hoseok raises an eyebrow at his officer, who immediately bows his head in shame.

“I made a mistake. I apologize, sir.”

“I convinced her not to file a civil suit. I know you’ve been… a little preoccupied with things outside of work, but please be more careful, Park.”

“Yes, sir. I will. Thank you.”

Jimin leaves quickly afterwards, and Hoseok lets out an inaudible sigh of relief. That was a close one. He picks up the newspaper, gazing down at the picture. The wall is covered with a beautiful sunset with a beach and mountains incorporated into the image. However, when he takes a closer look, the entire painted scenery is actually made up of crushed soda cans, candy wrappers, chewed gum, banana peels, and other items easily found in landfills and recycling centers. It is interesting, he muses, a small smile on his lips, sunsets are created from air pollution, yet they’re so beautiful, and you managed to depict the same concept with the scenery created entirely of garbage. A pollution piece is found within another pollution piece.

He carefully sets aside the newspaper before he sorts through the various files, stacking them into appropriate sections. He finds the file on the car accident and flips open the manila folder, pulling out the freshly printed images of the car crash. Copies of the lawsuits that were quickly faxed over are found as well, and he sighs as he reads through the transcripts and papers before staring at the pictures once more. It would have become another he said, she said case if you were not there to witness it, which would, without a doubt, become even messier with the ongoing divorce lawsuit. He is about to take a closer look at one particular photo when—

"Wow, you look terrible."

Hoseok looks up to see Seokjin, standing in front of his desk, and resists the urge to roll his eyes. Of course, he looks great. There is no surprise in that. "Thanks. I really appreciate that."

"No, it's just that—have you slept yet? Those eye bags are pretty dark."

“Hoseok, it’s eight A.M. Did you even go home at all? I thought I told you to take a day off today after that night case.” Yoongi appears at the sergeant’s desk and stares at the open casefile over Hoseok’s shoulder. “You’ve been overworking and staying overtime too much. You need a break.”

“Morning, Lieutenant. He’s just waiting for the cute witness to show up,” Taehyung says, grinning cheekily before holding out a box of Yoongi’s favorite sugary fried delicacies, “Want a doughnut?”

Yoongi quickly grabs one, but not without sending a frown towards the sergeant. “Are you seeing her? You know that’s against policy. We can’t get involved with anyone in an open case.”

“No! No, I’m not.” Hoseok hastily denies, cheeks burning. “I just told her to come by in the morning to give me her witness statement. And I thought it would be better if she spoke to the same person. For consistency, you know?”

Yoongi eyes him suspiciously before giving him a nod and starting his trek to his office. Seokjin follows behind him, prepared to give the lieutenant his weekly report. Hoseok quickly turns to Taehyung to give him the stink eye, but the mischievous, silver haired officer is nowhere to be found. The only sign of his past presence is the box of old fashion glazed doughnuts and sprinkled chocolate ones with one of each missing left on Hoseok’s desk. Sighing, he grabs one with the rainbow sprinkles and is about to take a bite when—

“Hey, Sarge.”

“_______!” Hoseok’s eyes widen before they dart around, and he is slightly flailing until his eyes spot the powder blue and white striped box. “Uh, doughnut?”

You smile before declining, “I actually had one before I came. My friend runs that shop actually. But thank you for the offer.”

“O-oh, no problem.” Hoseok gestures towards the familiar conference room. “Would you be more comfortable giving me your statement in there?”

“Sure, thanks.”

You follow behind him as he leads you towards the room, writing utensil and notepad in hand. The two of you quietly sit down, and he hands you the pen, pushing the notepad across the table surface towards you. You write down your account of the events carefully, the tip of your tongue sticking out slightly as you concentrate on scribbling down all the details you can remember.

Hoseok fidgets around in his chair, finally settling on a position before interlocking his hands and placing them on the table in front of him. He keeps his gaze on you, eyes flitting around curiously. He catches the way your hand pushes the soft flyaway tendrils of your hair behind your ear, the faintest color of marigold on the tip of your pointer finger. He smiles to himself when he sees your nose scrunches slightly for a moment as your eyes scan what you have finished writing.

“Here you go, Sarge.”

“Thank you.” He takes the notepad from you, looking over what you have written down and nodding in satisfaction. “This is really helpful. Thanks, _______.”

“No problem.” You stand up and start to leave the room, but stop. You hover in the doorway, wavering before saying at last, “Why did you let me go?”

“Hmm?” He looks up from the paper.

You repeat yourself, “You could have charged me. Why did you let me go?”

Hoseok tilts his head to the side, giving you a small grin as he rests his chin on the palm of his hand. “I decided that you’re a good person.”

“Oh.” The look of surprise that crosses over your face earns you a small chuckle from the sergeant. You stay silent for several seconds before asking the second question that has been on your mind for the past hours.

"How did you know it was Eden's work?"

His eyes twinkle before he gives you a small wink that causes your cheeks to warm up considerably. “I’m a huge fan of Eden. They’re making the city look more beautiful and raising awareness for environmental issues.”

You feel yourself flush even more as you duck your head sheepishly. You fiddle with the thin silver bracelet around your wrist for a moment before speaking up, “I have an art exhibition in a couple of weeks… Would you like to come?”

Hoseok beams, nodding his head. “I’d like that a lot.”

You give him a relieved smile before telling him the date of the unveiling and writing down your phone number. “How about we meet up at The Bean around 8 A.M. and walk over there together?”

“Sounds great.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

 Hoseok’s phone buzzes a few hours later during his lunch break. He puts down his sandwich, peering down at the device. A tiny smile spreads across his face when he sees it is from you, several text messages popping up.

[12:13] you: hey sarge

[12:13] you: there’s something I don’t get

[12:13] you: when you saw it in the alley, there was no signature

[12:13] hoseok: yes what about it?

[12:14] you: then how did you know it was eden?

[12:14] hoseok: it was a hunch

[12:15] you: pretty accurate hunch you had

[12:16] you: did you study art styles in the police academy or something

[12:16] hoseok: nope

Hoseok’s fingers hover over the keyboard. He bites his bottom lip, contemplating for a few moments, before lightly tapping out his reply and hitting send.

[12:16] hoseok: have you ever seen the old walls on the east side

[12:17] you: yeah why

[12:17] hoseok: the art there is pretty old but

[12:18] hoseok: have you seen the ones by jhope?

Immediately, he sees the three bubbles pop up, and he holds his breath, waiting for your response.

[12:18] you: are you kidding me sarge

[12:18] you: you’re jhope???

[12:18] you: the collab pieces between jhope and agust d are still legends

Hoseok’s lips curl into another smile. Secretly, pride blooms in his chest. As an angsty teenager, he quite liked the thrill and fun that came with being a tagger. Of course, he had to stop after he decided to attend the police academy with his best friend.

Another buzz from his phone brings his attention back to you.

[12:19] you: wait then who’s agust d

He grins, glancing over at Yoongi. The lieutenant raises an eyebrow at him, but Hoseok just shakes his head before writing his answer.

[12:19] hoseok: you know the lieutenant?

[12:19] you: you’re shitting me

[12:19] you: oh my god

[12:20] hoseok: impressed? ^^

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

 Hoseok had finally taken a day off after much badgering on Yoongi’s part. Specifically, he took the day of your art exhibition off. Donning a dark washed, blue denim jacket with a loose striped shirt tucked into his ripped black jeans, he looks like any other passerby without his usual formal ensemble. The Bean is not too far from his apartment, and the weather was good, so he decides to walk over there. He is glad that the car accident case had been smoothed over and dealt with after a few days. The other cases he still has are more in the open and shut range, so he is not really losing sleep over any particular one. And he has been texting back and forth with you more often as well. In fact, he checks his phone as it vibrates and sees one from you.

[07:58] you: sorry I’m running a few minutes late but I’ll see you soon!

He sends back a short message, assuring you that it was fine. However, when he turns the corner, he finally sees a large crowd jostling around the bustling coffee shop, phones all out and taking pictures of whatever is in front of them. Hurriedly, he makes his way over, fearing the worst before edging himself through the mass of people before finally reaching the front of the crowd. And he gasps, eyes widening in disbelief and cheeks reddening.

On the wall next to the shop, a new mural is on display. The police badge has been painstakingly painted onto the bricks in multicolor along with the silhouette of a police officer that is unmistakably him. The word “Hope” has been written over and over again in a sort of chain link, winding around the badge and silhouette. The telltale signature of Eden is found in the bottom right corner.

His phone vibrates in his hand once more, and he looks down quickly to see another message from you.

[08:03] you: so what do you think of my art exhibit, sarge?

A smile blooms on his face as the corners of his lips tilt upwards, and he swiftly taps out a response and presses send, his heart nearly thudding out of his chest.

[08:04] hoseok: it’s beautiful

[08:04] hoseok: but not as beautiful as the artist ♡

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

  DELETED B99 INSPIRED SCENE:

Investigation: noise by the door Filed By: Jung Hoseok Persons of Interest: Kim Seokjin, Min Yoongi Time: 02:43 A.M., during the collection of _______’s initial statement Place: Bangtan Police Precinct

“I heard Tae and Jimin caught an uncooperative witness for the car accident,” Seokjin casually says, lounging in the chair placed in front of Yoongi’s desk.

The lieutenant makes a noncommittal noise as he continues to peruse the files laid out in front of him. However, the somewhat noisy entry of two people causes him to look up. He catches your eye with a steely look, and he holds back a smile when he notices you sidle up closer to Hoseok almost instantaneously afterwards. The door clicks shut behind you and Hoseok, who had swiped a notepad and pen off his desk, and immediately, he and Jin speed walk quietly to said door.

“If the interrogation doesn’t go well, I have my guitar in the locker room. I can do the scream-and-strum strategy to make the witness crack,” Jin whispers, and Yoongi glowers and shakes his head vehemently.

“That didn’t work the first two times I let you do that. I’m not letting you try a third time.”

“Oh, c’mon, the third time’s the charm,” Seokjin whines and bangs his fist against the top of the file cabinet for emphasis. Immediately, he and Yoongi freezes at the realization of what he has done.

“Retreat,” Yoongi hisses, and the two of them make a run for it back to his office as noiselessly as possible. Jin shuts the door behind them as they huff and puff, bent over with their hands on their knees.

“Oh, man,” wheezes Seokjin as he collapses into the same chair from before. “Thank god I don’t have to take the physical again.”

Yoongi grunts in agreement. “I should probably lay off on the doughnuts.”

[manikas-whims]

A Chance at Redemption [13]

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A/N: Hey guys!

Um..eh hem..please just don't kill me. You can all gang up and beat the shit out of me but do realise that I am human too. Since the past 3 years my life has been a mess and let's just say some personal things are making it really hard for me to write.

I’d like to thank you lovely readers *blows a kiss* I started this fic on a whim and its really a surprise treat to find out that people are actually giving it positive responses. I mean I can just never thank you people enough..

An important thing before you proceed onto the chapter: I may be gone for long but I'll never leave my fics unfinished. I know the pain one feels when coming across a plot of their liking only to realise that it has been left unfinished for xyz years. I'll complete all my fanfics. It's a pinky-swear with you loves. ♥

And as I say, "In the world of writers, those who go on hiatuses are trash but those who abandon their books are worse than trash." XD

Alright! Um..let's have a short recap of everything that has happened so far in this tale:-

The fourth shinobi war's victors were Uchihas who now rule the whole shinobi world with Madara as the self-claimed Hokage. Naruto is no more and Kakashi is in a coma. Sai and Sakura are the only members of Team 7 and they work together along with a few other rebels under the name of FoK. Sai also happens to work in the anbu directly under the Uchihas, thus, acting as a double agent. In order to stop the annihilation of the Hyuga Clan which was planned by the Uchihas, Sakura decides to make a deal with Sasuke. She offers herself to him in a bond of marriage in exchange for the lives of many innocent Hyugas. When her marriage is revealed to the whole world, she is treated as a traitor amongst the rebels. Later on, she finds out that the head of the Hyuga Clan, Hiashi has been assassinated and begins to doubt Sasuke's promise to her. Caught up in his anger Neji reveals about his knowledge of the planned annihilation and just as the Uchihas are about to interrogate him, Sai comes in and takes him to the funeral held for Hiashi in excuse to actually save his neck. Sasuke recalls and is confused about how Sakura and Neji came to know of this annihilation and questions her directly. He then realises how Sai may have been the one who told those two but the question is 'why'. He leaves Sakura for the time being and heads to the burial grounds with the thought of interrogating both Neji and Sai.

If this summary didn't help out much, feel free to read the previous chapters :3

Now back to the chapter..

Chapter 13: Moving Forward

"My hands are drenched in sin..

..but that doesn't mean I'm heartless."

-Suigetsu Hozuki

The two have been sitting silently in his small apartment for an hour now, both lost in deep thought about the next step that they must take. Or rather, the necessary step that they must take now that Neji has literally jeopardized their cover by lashing out in front of the Uchihas. And in doing so, he has also threatened Sai and Sakura's neck along with the whole secret about the FoK.

Sai watched the Hyuga Prodigy meditate with barely concealed interest. He can't help himself from wondering about what would've happened to this man had he not shown up at the Hokage's room when he did. Who knows? Maybe Neji would've earned himself a death sentence? Or worst! Maybe he would've been tortured to the point where he would've been left with no choice but to spill-out everything about their small group of rebels?! The thought in itself is terrorising. The ex-root nin shook his head and decided to distract himself with something less scary. And weirdly, his distraction came in the form of Neji's periodic inhale and exhale of the surrounding air.

Sai gazed at the continuously inflating and deflating chest of the Hyuga. With eyes closed, Neji tried focusing more on controlling his chakra. Sai felt fascinated by him and pondered on whether he must capture this moment on one of his canvases. It'll be a lovely addition to his growing collection of paintings. But not just Neji, Sai is fascinated by all the different people around him. They can teach him important things about life just as much as his team-mates do. Well..talking about teammates, none are currently available to help Sai with his emotional problems. Now that Sakura is betrothed to the infamous second grandson of Madara Uchiha, he is left with no other choice but to resort back to his guide books. How he wishes to discuss about all such things with her.

"Can you stop staring?" muttered the Hyuga, eyes still closed in concentration.

The artist tried an apologetic smile in a similar manner that he has read about in a book but the Hyuga only frowned. It's a mystery how he can understand the ex-root nin's fake expression even with his eyes shut like that. Nonetheless, Sai spoke, "I'm sorry. I'm just trying to formulate a plan about what I can do with you now that you've landed the three of us in such a conundrum."

"Three?" Neji asked, inhaling yet again.

"Yes", Sai picked up a sketch-pad and a brush as he began with a rough sketch of the long-haired prodigy, "You, me and Sakura. The Uchihas may let the matter go but Sasuke won't sit still until he reaches the very bottom of this whole thing."

A long sigh left the prodigy's lips and he stood-up, breaking the calm atmosphere that he had created with his meditation. "You're right. Besides, we only have an hour until the funeral ceremony gets over."

"Yes and I bet that Sasuke will come at you the instant that funeral ends. And he will not let this go until he uncovers every last speck of detail about us." Sai added gravely.

"Well, he'll probably torture me to the point I can take it no more and then make me talk. So I came up with this idea while I was meditating." He said and Sai urged him to go on, "What if he never finds me? Like Sakura did with that disguise of hers'."

Sai shook his head in negation, "Before we can delve any further into this thought I'd like to remind you that Ugly is a pro at chakra control unlike you or myself. So we need to do something else about hiding your identity. Just a simple henge won't work in your case."

Neji nodded in understanding. He knew that Sai would mention this and so, he moved on to his next suggestion "In that case..how about this?"

With the arrival of the Hokage and his minions at the Sacred Hyuga Burial Grounds, an elderly Hyuga member began the Funeral Ceremony by a long prayer in respect of the departed one. And as everyone closed their eyes in prayer, Sasuke Uchiha scanned the whole place, his obsidians looking around in pursuit of a certain Ex-Root assassin and a Prodigy from the Hyuga Clan. But even under the effects of his eternal mangekyou sharingan, he was unable to locate any matching suspects. From what he can recall, it was Sai who had practically dragged a frightened-looking Neji Hyuga out of the Hokage's office, right when Neji spilled-out his knowledge about the annihilation of the Hyuga Clan. There's no need to have any great deduction skills to figure out that the two are hiding- no- conspiring something! And whatever it is that they are plotting to accomplish, is also known to Sakura. It's ridiculous how he completely ignored the fact that she proposed a deal of marriage with him in exchange for the lives of the Hyugas. He must've been more focused and paid attention to how she came to know about that annihilation. But oh well..thanks to his distracting ex-teammate, he let his guard down and failed in noticing how suspicious her and Neji's involvement in this whole matter is.

Taking another glance around the place, he grit his teeth. There were literally no traces of any of the two suspects he's been searching for. Where did they disappear off to? Or what exactly are they doing as of right now? Are they initiating their plans already? Has the first step already been put in action? More importantly, he doesn't even know what they are working on!

Dammit!

He took a long breath to calm his flaring nerves and decided to do one last scan of the area. The first person that his eyes fell upon was Hinata Hyuga. He frowned as he watched the young Hyuga Princess' eyes closed in respect for her father. Its not like she can ever replace her father. There's only one person worthy enough of this position and that is Neji Hyuga from the branch family but even Sasuke knows that the main family will never allow something like this. The Hyugas aren't any less than the Uchihas when it comes to biasing.

He turned his head slightly back and found a former comrade, Shikamaru Nara standing directly behind him with his parents and a blonde, pigtailed woman. He recognises her because he had faced her once when he was still a willing shinobi of the Leaf. He is well-aware about her presence in this village. Well, it's not like she is the only one as after the war ended in their victory, the whole world of shinobi turned into a big mess of panicky civilians and ninja alike. Due to this haphazardness, a lot of the people were unable to return to their respective homelands. And since then, the village gates have been under constant surveillance because of which nobody is allowed to enter or leave at their free will. If there's any need to depart, the individual will first have to consult the nasty Hokage himself.

"What is it Uchiha?" an edgy, feminine tone asked him and it took him a moment to realize that it was the same blonde woman. At her side, Shikamaru scratched his jaw uneasily.

Such firm was her gaze that Sasuke felt himself unable to utter even a word to her.

She smirked teasingly, "Stop staring at me. You're a married man now."

The remark was spewed at him out of spite and disgust she feels towards him for chaining her pink-haired friend in a bond of marriage. And it was more than enough to spur his emotions. He narrowed his eyebrows and glared at her in what he thinks is his most menacing look but it didn't even make her budge. If anything, her lips only curved further upwards. It's almost like she's trying to spite him into some sort of outburst. Anyways, why the hell is she even gazing at him so smugly when her eyes are supposed to be closed in prayer like everyone else's?

"What?" she gestured with a nudge of her head, "Don't have a comeback?"

Comeback? How dare she? Who does she think she is, trying a childish banter with him? Him? He can kill her right here if he wants to but since he has always been surrounded by idiots like her, he knows how to keep his anger in check. His eyes shifted slightly from her face when he noticed some movement. It was the young Nara's palm that sneakily encircled her wrist, signalling her to stop. She turned her head towards Shikamaru and stared at him questioningly.

The young Nara ignored her look and instead bowed his head to Sasuke, "I'm sorry. The edginess is just a part of her personality. She doesn't mean to taunt you."

Sasuke watched her expression change as she heard those words. A big smile settled upon her lips. A big mocking smile and she herself apologised to him, ofcourse in a manner that ridiculed him even further. His fingers were itching to just strangle that little neck of hers but just as he motioned his hands, all eyes flew open.

The ceremony was over and a couple of eyes glanced confusedly between him, Shikamaru and the blonde girl, wondering exactly what was going on. With a heavy sigh, Sasuke managed to alleviate some of his anger and left the burial grounds in search of Neji Hyuga instead.

Behind him, Shikamaru released a breath in relief.

When she woke up, the whole apartment shook by the intensity of her horrified scream. Her shoulders shook with fear as she could still feel those crimson orbs boring holes into her frightful emeralds. And here she thought that those nightmares were finally gone...Surprise! Surprise! They had never really left..They were just lurking in the depths of her dark thoughts laced in fear, anticipating the right time to launch an attack. She can still remember that dream along with all of the vivid details. The dense chakra that was surrounding the aura of that avenger- Sasuke! He charged his left hand with a chidori and struck it right into the heart of her innocent, blond teammate, ending his life then and there. And as Sasuke did so, the blood went splashing all around him, drenching every inch of his skin in that Hokage-wannabe's blood. She can still remember herself sitting there, kneeling right before the whole scenario, tears streaming down her cheeks endlessly. Every time in her vision, he would turn around at this very moment and his piercing crimsons would clash with her scared emeralds. And he would inch closer towards her, pressing his lips against hers, smearing them with that very same blood of her dead teammate...

Just the shear memory made her scream again and that too, louder this time...Immediately, the door to her room burst open and in stepped the two sycophants that Sasuke has left to keep watch on her at all times. She lifted her eyelids slightly and flashed them a menacing glare.

"What do you want?" She whispered hoarsely in an irate tone.

The minute her scream reached their ears, Suigetsu and Juugo slammed the door open and ran in to check-up on the situation, completely prepared for whatever it was awaiting their entrance behind her door. Shockingly, they only found her gnawing at the skin of her innocently beautiful face. A second passed with her glaring at them, her fingernails digging painfully into her cheeks and them confusedly staring back at her.

"What do you want?" She whispered in a tight tone.

"We heard you scream. Are you alright?" Juugo asked with genuine concern swirling in his scarlet-red irises.

"You can tell Sasuke that I'm dealing well with all his confinements." She answered in a sarcastic tone.

"For your kind info, Sasuke never asked us to do this." Suigetsu spoke, his hand gripping the hilt of his huge blade a bit too hard.

No doubt they have been sent here by Sasuke to make sure that she is safe. Why? Well..because now that she is an Uchiha, as entitled by Madara himself, there are people who will try and grasp every chance they can to kill the young bride of his grandson. They have been sent here for the sole purpose of her protection at all costs but they aren't supposed to tell her about this. Heh! "She will understand..."- those were the exact words spoken by their young boss. Sasuke doesn't want them to tell her. She will understand?! How?! Last time that Suigetsu checked, she wasn't a psychic and she isn't one now! So the chances of her understanding Sasuke's motives without them having to explain it to her are very slim.

"Yeah..Yeah..Just like he never asked you to keep me locked-up at my apartment." She uttered with excruciating emphasis on every word.

"Huh..." Suigetsu exhaled audibly and closed his eyes, "Now listen-"

"I'm an Uchiha right?! Then..why was I restricted to attend Hiashi Hyuga's funeral?!" She yelled, tears clouding her mesmerizing irises.

He wants to tell her so badly about Sasuke's intentions but he simply cannot go against his master's orders. Frustrated at the fact and at himself, he closed his eyes and heaved a long sigh. When he re-opened them, he found the young medic already out of her bed, standing in her black, knee-high boots. And that sight alone, made him release another long sigh. Seriously? Does she ever stay at home and sleep like a normal girl must? No? Well..Karin did..

Karin.. He sighed. That redhead was kinda bitchy but Suigetsu has to admit that he misses her.

The swordsman rubbed his eyes to keep himself from overreacting and asked the pinkette, "Where are you going?"

She bade him no response, which is not even surprising anymore. He has gotten pretty used to her weird antics. And so, as she made her way out of her bedroom and left her apartment, him and Juugo were left with no other choice but to follow her. A sense of déjà vu passed his thoughts as Juugo closed the main door of her apartment.

Blood had started to ooze out from the places she had been gnawing at on her cheeks. Why isn't she healing herself? He thought but then immediately felt like smacking himself. Ofcourse it has to do with that stupid bracelet that Kabuto has put on her. Healing is an intricate procedure and requires a lot of chakra and focus.

"Do you enjoy this?" Suigetsu asked, sweat trickling down his brow.

"Enjoy what?" she asked as she continued marching in the direction of only god knows what place.

"Getting us all worked-up!" the swordsman yelled, finally losing his cool. Her lack of concern for her own skin irked him even more. Karin would've never let even a single scar stay on her cheek. Karin would've tried everything in her might to look pretty every single fucking day. Karin would..Karin isn't here anymore..

He sighed in frustration and tried to focus on Sakura again."You know Sasuke won't be pleased when he finds out-"

"Does it look like I care?" she drawled out.

"Well..you must. Because when he finds out, he's gonna kill us all." Suigetsu tried his best to emphasize the 'kill' part but the young medic continued walking. And yet again, he moved his lips to shout some sense into her head but a large hand on his shoulder stopped him from doing so. He glanced at the shaky palm and then at it's equally fidgety owner- Juugo. The expression on his face was enough to convey that he was controlling his anger the best he could and so, Suigetsu decided to let the matter go. For the time being atleast. Afterall, it's fine as long as Sasuke is the one who kills them. He will grant a quick, merciful death. An enraged Juugo on the other hand, will tear him and Sakura to shreds but only after making sure to beat them to a pulp. Suigetsu doesn't want such a death. And he's damn sure Sakura shares the same thoughts.

The déjà vu hit Suigetsu yet again as they entered the rusty, old building of the Konoha Hospital. If they are here, then ofcourse the pinkette wants to see none other than her half-dead mentor. Crossing the dirty halls that led towards the secluded ward, Suigetsu and Juugo watched in silence as the small key was inserted into the hole and the knob was turned. Sakura walked in with a heaviness in her heart and before the minds of the former S-class nins could comprehend what was happening, she threw herself over the unmoving body of the infamous copy-nin. Unexpectedly loud sobs reached the men's ears and they watched in shock the continuous shaking of the young medic's shoulders as she shed tears.

What Suigetsu had heard from his buddy Sai was the fact that team 7 is not just a team but a family. It was hard to believe those words when he had first heard them but it is far-easier to understand their depth now that he is experiencing them with his very own eyes. His eyes remained fixated on Sakura as she wept over the silver-haired man's form as if he was actually her father. Okay, maybe not. But in his own way, Kakashi is like a father to team 7.

"You.." they heard her sob out in a soft yet shrill tone, her tears mixing with the dried blood on her cheeks, "You said that you won't let me shoulder the burden on my own. You promised..."

The whole room went quiet again, followed by the hysterical sobbing of the pink-haired kunoichi. With her face burrowed into the chest of her former teacher, her hands clutched at the fabric of his shirt and she cried. She cried and cried and cried..and they watched. Both Suigetsu and Juugo were unable to look away from the pitiful sight before their eyes. It made them contemplate and question their own acts. Are they on the right side? Ofcourse not. Can they help her out of this? Maybe? Maybe not. Who knows? At this point, the only thing that is clear to them is that she doesn't belong anywhere near that Uchiha den.

"You know why I married him.." she lifted her head and whispered to the sleeping man, "You know exactly why.. So pleaassse..wake up, Sensei. Wake up and take away some of my burden..." She gazed hopefully at the man lying on the stretcher but her words proved to be futile. The man didn't even budge. Juugo honestly felt an ache in his heart. He maybe on the wrong side but he isn't a bad person. He wants to help Sakura. He genuinely does. He just has no idea where or how to begin..

Three hours passed in that hospital ward with Sakura talking to her comatose sensei and Suigetsu discussing with Juugo about how to actually handle being guards to such a fragile girl. One misstep and she'll break.

Sakura wiped her teary face with the back of her sweaty palms and turned around to find Sasu- her husband's faithful sycophants waiting for her. Bidding them no signal, she walked right past them out of the room, knowing they'll undoubtedly follow.

Now that she has freely let out her emotional pain to someone, she is ready to sacrifice herself and stand next to the Uchihas. All her friends think of her as a traitor and it's better this way. Atleast her false betrayal will act as a positive motivator. It'll rile their sentimental connections to her and help them realise their goal much easily. The rebels will work far-better in her absence.

Upon reaching her small apartment, she felt an intense gaze pierce through her carefully constructed mask of apathy. She knew exactly whom those eyes belonged to and without even an ounce of fear in her form, she tilted her face, her emeralds meeting the onyxes. By the deep frown marring his face, it was obvious that he wasn't pleased about something and clearly that "something" is linked with her. Still, she climbed the three short steps up the porch and stood directly in front of him, awaiting his angry tirade.

"Where were you?" he gritted out.

"Not a matter of your concern." came her curt response.

He exhaled a breath through his nose and she watched his nostrils flare in unbridled anger.Such a Sasuke-thing to do. She scoffed inwardly and watched the riled up Uchiha inch closer towards her. She kept her gaze. She wasn't intimidated by him in the least. He has already tried to kill her twice so she isn't much scared of dying by his hands. Much to her surprise though, a heavy, shiny object swished in between her and him, breaking the tense atmosphere in an instant-Suigetsu's huge sword. Taking a long breath, Sasuke turned to the side to face the intrusive person and his eyes changed to red, the black tomoes spinning wildly as he seethed at the man. Sakura's eyes on the other hand widened in actual shock when she found that it was Suigetsu who had intervened between them. Why did he?

The white-haired rogue-nin simply stared at his master, his lips a thin line that expressed no emotion whatsoever. When he had decided to serve Sasuke, he had planned to stay out of his boss's way..he had planned to stay out of trouble. But things have changed. He has changed. Watching this pink-haired medic weep in front of her unresponsive sensei stirred something in him. And if this is the last bit of good that he has within him, then he surely wants to utilise it to his best. His inner conflict has finally ended and he has reached a conclusion. He maybe working under the Uchihas but he'll properly safeguard Sakura Haruno. It's better to die the death of a kind bodyguard than an S-class shinobi who used to kill for fun.

"I'm-We're sorry, Sasuke-sama." Juugo was the one who spoke-up for his lean partner, nodding his head at the swordsman in agreement. If Suigetsu is ready then he is too. Afterall, he had never wanted to be the bad guy. It's just life offered him limited options and he had to choose the least bad from amongst them. But now as he glanced between his master and his newfound bride, who also happens to be a kind woman, he has changed his mind from just 'spending the days and dying' to doing something good for the sake of redemption..to achieve true piece at the time of his demise.

"We can't let your hostile nature hurt Sakura-san because this is exactly what you had ordered us to do." He explained honestly.

If anything one of Sasuke's eyebrows arched high up in question of such insolence. He had expected eventual discord and disrespect from Suigetsu. He has never been able to trust the mist-nin but he had always expected Juugo to be a faithful one. So what exactly did Sakura do to win over his dogs? Moments of him glaring ferociously at them did nothing to melt their determination to protect the young kunoichi. They stood before her like a shield and the pinkette watched in silent amazement. It's almost as if she hadn't expected them to protect her.

With his sharingan now faded back to reveal his beautiful greyish-onyx orbs, he sighed raggedly and asked her again in a much calmer tone, "Where were you?"

She scoffed, only this time not inwardly. She shook her head at him and countered his query with a question of her own, "Why do you even care?"

Sasuke's left hand moved and he grabbed tightly onto the hilt of his kusanagi. Sakura's eyes followed, noticing the subtle action of the man she had fallen for. And with a piercing gaze, he gritted out, "Because Neji Hyuga was found dead an hour ago and I don't want to find out that my wife was behind his murder."

Sakura gulped calmly in the eerie silence that followed his words. And then, she shrieked, "WHAT!?"

Alright, so this marks the end of the chapter. I know its not the best one but I still hope you guys liked it..:)

What do you think about Neji's death?

Or Suigetsu and Juugo's newfound fealty towards Sakura?

More angst in the coming chapters.

And once again, thanks for being such patient readers. I really love you guys..♡

AND IF YOU CAN THEN PLEASE SUPPORT ME ON KOFI

My family is facing some issues and it’d be of great help..

Don't forget to share your thoughts about this chapter cuz believe me or not, I read all your comments. They are fun to read and always keep me motivated! :D

And do let me know if you find any errors.

Hopefully I'll make another update soon..:3

Until Next Time...

~Manika

|MASTERLIST|

|SUPPORT ME ON KOFI|

[lois-sketchbook]

SKETCHBOOK

I created the page on the left the day I traveled from Norwich to Lincoln; as I got back quite late I was very tired, but had arranged to briefly say hello to some old work colleagues at the New Theater Royal, however as I arrived, everyone was about to go to the pub. I didn’t want to be rude, so I accompanied them but throughout the time there all I could think about was wanting to relax and go to bed. Usually to help me sleep I use lavender oil which is essentially what inspired the surrounding lavender sprigs and plants. The text is a conversation with thoughts included surrounding.

The page on the right focuses on trying to work out the mechanics of an antique mayonnaise jar I had photographed whilst at looses emporium the previous week. The mechanism seemed quite intriguing which is why i wanted to sketch it- despite some of these sketches being unfinished I managed to figure out part of how the jar is operated and express this visually which I am happy with. I also added some arrows to convey motion, which I think makes the sketching more understandable when viewed by a third party/ other perspective.

These pages both revert back to a comic inspired format of storytelling; the page on the left shows a time where my friends umbrella was stolen when left unattended in a pub- I wanted to add rain-clouds surrounding this page to emphasize the fact that it was raining at the time; I also think it makes for some interesting visual imagery whilst helping combine elements of observation and imagination.

The page on the right shows a conversation between myself and my sister, who I (arguably harshly) tricked into eating a jalapeno by eating one first (with a high spice tolerance). We were eating olives at the time which explains the drawing in the bottom left corner. Although the text is all taken from direct quotation the imagery is all derived from memory and imagination. 

The page on the left took place in a karaoke bar; I found it quite interesting that a dog was there in the first place so I just had to get some sketched of him! He was quite timid but looked very interesting with his lanky legs- I managed to get multiple quick sketches from different angles which has helped me to better understand the anatomy (although unfortunately I am unaware of what breed of dog this is).

The page on the right shows someone playing jenga (again situated in a bar)- as the tower was getting taller it looked almost as if the pieces could just float away so I decided to include that concept within the sketch. 

With both of these pages I glued in sticky-notes prior to drawing to break up the white space on the page- on the left page I mostly ignored them and just sketched as if the page were blank however on the right page I tried to incorporate the sticky-notes with the jenga tower.  

[meekochan-art]

[ NOTE ] Unfinished, but I want to move on.

Modern AU guesswork of Liesl and Goblin King from Wintersong (by S. Jae-Jones).

AUs aren’t my thing. And yet... I wondered what kind of music Liesl would write, leading to what they might look like and figured it would be the closest thing to drawing a hawt Goblin King my hand is capable of doing. (Some songs I listen to lead to this pondering, since classical bores me. Overall, I got bad taste in music, so not gonna even attempt a playlist. But! Will mention that when shuffle played NIN “Closer” I was like, whoa, this totally fits their initial internal struggles and escapes before they find themselves. [edit] After reading the unadulterated version, their struggle doesn’t match the struggle I interpret in “Closer.” [/edit] )

When deciding a pose, this particular one immediately popped in mind. Thought of one of their early conversations, either in Goblin Grove or Marketplace Mall. (Leaning towards Goblin Grove for privacy.) Liesl is guarded and wary of Goblin King as he removes her headphones. (Or put on; I clearly didn’t add enough detail to suggest she’s listening to something to escape/ignore him. Lack of planning. *sweatdrop* )

So... What do you see? *.* Any storytellers conjuring up a scenario for this scene? (Or a seasoned AU consumer/creator desiring to correct my guesswork with the red pen of doom?) Please! Share your imagination in a reblog! (I beg of you: entertain meeeeeeee~)

The follow wall of texts are what I thought of when modernizing of Liesl and Goblin King as if Wintersong were to be set in modern times instead.

Liesl: Plain, dull, invisible... But not fugly; that would attract attention. Not sure if I should think of her as a cat person or a wolf lover... Part time local college student with undecided major, mostly due to being in a rut from helping out with local family business--a diner--and her slightly backwards thinking alcoholic father. (Her mother’s biggest mistake/regret is marrying the bastard?) Kathe is super hot and popular, and rumors suggests she slept with half the school. (Of course, Liesl does not believe such rumors.) Josef is a slowly becoming something on youtube...and in the near future something viral. Hans...the boring boy next door, I guess. *shrugs* Oh, and her grandma would be running a psychic hotline scam! No idea about Antonius and Francois...music producer and contracted child entertainer? Back to Liesl. She goes by Liz, maybe Lizzy as a young child. Music is her passion, obviously, and she mainly listens to highly artistic music plus quite a few strange experimental sleep-inducing tracks. Naturally, she’s the secret genius behind her lil bro’s unique sounds. Instruments...she has dabbled in all sorts, but main instrument of choice would be the electronic keyboard due to its convenience.

Goblin King: A mystery. Really. (How many decades/centuries has he lived? Does he update with time? Does the Underground now have electricity? Does metal burn him?) When I turned off my brain, gothic punk attire won. Though I suspect that’s just my subconscious forcing that aesthetics onto him. Sorry if I ruined him for you. *mopes* Could have left him with historic attire but it felt too...time travel-ish. I guess casual clothing would have been more fitting but so boring. (And what kind of casual would a modern day Goblin King don?) As for music, he listen to anything, but performs only certain genres. I can’t imagine him performing t(w)een pop. Not even humming along. Or, should that genre be a guilty pleasure of his? o.o’ In modern time, he’d upgrade to an electric violin for occasional fun, but still mostly rock on his acoustic. Somehow. Don’t ask me how. (Currently can’t think of how he’d transition to electric guitar. Otherwise that’s what I’d give him. Lead guitarist of The Underground! ...that’s a very uncreative band name. orz )

If you’re bored--or just plain curious--bonus stuff under cut~

[ WARNING ] The following image may cause you to spit/choke whatever’s in your mouth.

What if...

I had to. I just had to. *walks out the door*

*sneaks back in* Okay, with that out of the way...

Intended to sketch up other styles but realized I’m way too lazy to google for ref. (I seriously can’t fashion. I google preppy and was like, nope, not gonna study.)

Also tried to sketch out other characters in modern time but didn’t get far...

Here’s Kathe. (Face is random cause I failed to formulate one in my mind.) As already mentioned, I can’t fashion. Seriously. I can’t. Despite years of flipping through fashion mags. Figured in modern time Kathe would be a health/fitness enthusiast that proudly shows off her killer(?) bod (that I failed to sketched out.)

Still scrolling? Wow, you must be bored as hell!

If you’re one of those rare few people that enjoy seeing art progression from the beginning to the end... (If the GIF fails to load, please view it on dA.) As you can see, I wasted quite a bit of time adjusting Goblin King’s head and expanded the canvas and eventually just gave up after painting the values. (Meant to try glazing coloring technique again.)

Oh, and that cropped image (with large ass watermark) at the top of this post... Supposed to be 100% zoom but gonna assume it’ll fail. Please fullview it on dA. ^^

[nancydsmithus]

Better Design With Deep Thinking

Better Design With Deep Thinking

Better Design With Deep Thinking

Eric Olive

2019-11-13T11:00:00+00:00 2019-11-13T12:06:54+00:00

<p>Interruptions, administrative tasks, and too many meetings are among the common complaints voiced by today’s professionals. When was the last time someone complained about a canceled meeting? In other words, everyone understands what hinders productivity, right?</p> <p>Not so fast, says computer scientist Cal Newport. While we all realize that interruptions and fragmented time are troublesome, we fail to recognize:</p> <ul> <li>The frequency of interruptions: We convince ourselves that we are focusing on one task at a time, such as a complex interaction design problem. Yet, every ten minutes or so, we check email or answer a text. Yes, we’re performing one task at a time, but the <strong>duration</strong> of that task is brief.</li> <li>The cost of these interruptions: As Newport explains on a recent episode of <a href="https://www.npr.org/templates/transcript/transcript.php?storyId=754336716">Hidden Brain</a>: “Even those very brief checks that switch your context even briefly can have this massive negative impact on your cognitive performance. It’s the <strong>switch itself that hurts</strong>, not how long you actually switch.” (Emphasis mine)</li> </ul> <p>This task switching was the focus of <a href="https://ideas.repec.org/a/eee/jobhdp/v109y2009i2p168-181.html">a study</a> by business professor Sophie Leroy. She gave participants a cognitively demanding activity, such as solving a puzzle, and then briefly interrupted them before they completed it. When they returned to the original task, their performance dropped. As Leroy explains, these “results indicate it is difficult for people to transition their attention away from an unfinished task and their subsequent task performance suffers.”</p> <p>Leroy calls this carryover from one activity to another “attention residue,” meaning that people are still thinking about the previous task even as they turn to the new one.</p> <p>The most effective way to avoid attention residue is to structure your work in a way that reduces interruptions. Such structure requires understanding the difference between deep and shallow work.</p> <div data-component="FeaturePanel" data-audience="non-subscriber" data-remove="true" class="feature-panel-container hidden"></div> <h3 id="deep-work-shallow-work-and-why-they-matter">Deep Work, Shallow Work, And Why They Matter</h3> <p>“Deep work is the ability to focus without distraction on a cognitively demanding task,” writes Newport in his book <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Deep-Work-Focused-Success-Distracted/dp/B0189PVAWY/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=deep+work&qid=1570223166&sr=8-1">Deep Work</a>. This work allows us to absorb, understand, and act on complicated information. Examples including coding, complex project plans, user research, and sophisticated design work.</p> <p>Shallow work refers to tasks that do not require extensive thought and focus such as filling out expense reports and answering emails, texts, and Slack messages.</p> <p>Shallow tasks are necessary. The question is how much time to devote to shallow and deep work and how to structure work in a way that facilitates reflection and concentration.</p> <figure class=" break-out article__image "> <a href="https://cloud.netlifyusercontent.com/assets/344dbf88-fdf9-42bb-adb4-46f01eedd629/5ea0e50e-8ad9-4775-8114-a586762772e6/design-checklist-photo-examples.png"> <img srcset="https://res.cloudinary.com/indysigner/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto/w_400/https://cloud.netlifyusercontent.com/assets/344dbf88-fdf9-42bb-adb4-46f01eedd629/5ea0e50e-8ad9-4775-8114-a586762772e6/design-checklist-photo-examples.png 400w, https://res.cloudinary.com/indysigner/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto/w_800/https://cloud.netlifyusercontent.com/assets/344dbf88-fdf9-42bb-adb4-46f01eedd629/5ea0e50e-8ad9-4775-8114-a586762772e6/design-checklist-photo-examples.png 800w, https://res.cloudinary.com/indysigner/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto/w_1200/https://cloud.netlifyusercontent.com/assets/344dbf88-fdf9-42bb-adb4-46f01eedd629/5ea0e50e-8ad9-4775-8114-a586762772e6/design-checklist-photo-examples.png 1200w, https://res.cloudinary.com/indysigner/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto/w_1600/https://cloud.netlifyusercontent.com/assets/344dbf88-fdf9-42bb-adb4-46f01eedd629/5ea0e50e-8ad9-4775-8114-a586762772e6/design-checklist-photo-examples.png 1600w, https://res.cloudinary.com/indysigner/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto/w_2000/https://cloud.netlifyusercontent.com/assets/344dbf88-fdf9-42bb-adb4-46f01eedd629/5ea0e50e-8ad9-4775-8114-a586762772e6/design-checklist-photo-examples.png 2000w" src="https://res.cloudinary.com/indysigner/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto/w_400/https://cloud.netlifyusercontent.com/assets/344dbf88-fdf9-42bb-adb4-46f01eedd629/5ea0e50e-8ad9-4775-8114-a586762772e6/design-checklist-photo-examples.png" sizes="100vw" alt="Left image: Design is deep work. Right image: Filling out a checklist is shallow work." /> </a> <figcaption class="op-vertical-bottom"> Left: Design is deep work. Right: Filling out a checklist is shallow work. (Image credits: <a href='ttps://pixabay.com/photos/ux-design-webdesign-app-mobile-787980/'>FirmBee</a> | <a href='https://pixabay.com/photos/document-paper-office-composition-3271743/'>raw pixel</a>) (<a href='https://cloud.netlifyusercontent.com/assets/344dbf88-fdf9-42bb-adb4-46f01eedd629/5ea0e50e-8ad9-4775-8114-a586762772e6/design-checklist-photo-examples.png'>Large preview</a>) </figcaption> </figure> <h3 id="the-solution-five-practical-tips-for-pursuing-deep-work">The Solution: Five Practical Tips For Pursuing Deep Work</h3> <h4 id="tip-1-jump-into-design-work">Tip 1: Jump Into Design Work</h4> <p>Avoid the temptation to text or check email first thing. Put your phone on do not disturb. Get out your sketch pad or open your design tool and challenge yourself to solve one gnarly design problem by 10:00 am.</p> <p>While this tip sounds like common sense, it’s not quite so straightforward because we are conditioned to respond to signals around us: “External triggers are cues from our environment that tell us what to do next. These are the dings and pings that prompt us to check our email, answer a text, or look at a news alert,” explains habit expert Nir Eyal in a<a href="https://www.nirandfar.com/distractions/"> post about distraction</a>.</p> <p>Eyal continues: “Competition for our attention can come from a person as well, such as an interruption from a coworker when we are in the middle of doing focused work.”</p> <p>Computer scientist Cal Newport expands on this point by explaining the biology behind the itch to respond. When we don’t reply promptly to a text or email, we feel like we are ignoring someone from our tribe. Emotionally, it’s the modern-day equivalent of ignoring someone who is tapping on our shoulder as we sit around the fire. In short, it’s difficult to ignore messages and requests from co-workers.</p> <p>Difficult but not impossible. Extend jumping into design work by blocking out untouchable time on your calendar. What about emergencies? “The short answer is that there really never are any,” writes podcaster and New York Times bestselling author, Neil Pasricha in<a href="https://hbr.org/2018/03/why-you-need-an-untouchable-day-every-week?utm_campaign=hbr&utm_source=twitter&utm_medium=social"> Why You Need an Untouchable Day Every Week</a>. These untouchable days involve deep, creative work.</p> <p>While most professionals cannot set aside an entire day each week, they can mark two-hour blocks on their calendar a few times each week. Colleagues simply see “busy” when viewing your calendar. While not foolproof, this quiet signal shows that you know how to manage your time in order to engage in the deep work that your job requires.</p> <div class="sponsors__lead-place"></div> <h4 id="tip-2-kickstart-your-brain-with-useful-questions">Tip 2: Kickstart Your Brain With Useful Questions</h4> <p>By definition, deep work takes time and considerable brain resources. Sometimes we need a cognitive boost before tackling the problem head-on. When this is the case, ease into deep work by composing a list of questions to stimulate reflection. For example:</p> <ul> <li>What is the organization trying to accomplish?</li> <li>How does this site, product, or app align with that goal?</li> <li>If revising an existing design: What would I do differently if I could recreate the design from scratch?</li> <li>What would I do now if there were no legacy system constraints?</li> </ul> <p>Note that these questions involve design but also encourage reflection beyond the immediate design challenge. The latter is important because the longer you work on a product or project, the easier it is to develop design blinders.</p> <figure class=" "> <a href="https://cloud.netlifyusercontent.com/assets/344dbf88-fdf9-42bb-adb4-46f01eedd629/30f0c810-a893-49ae-a33a-4f1c9fde9a63/better-design-deep-thinking-4-brain.png"> <img srcset="https://res.cloudinary.com/indysigner/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto/w_400/https://cloud.netlifyusercontent.com/assets/344dbf88-fdf9-42bb-adb4-46f01eedd629/30f0c810-a893-49ae-a33a-4f1c9fde9a63/better-design-deep-thinking-4-brain.png 400w, https://res.cloudinary.com/indysigner/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto/w_800/https://cloud.netlifyusercontent.com/assets/344dbf88-fdf9-42bb-adb4-46f01eedd629/30f0c810-a893-49ae-a33a-4f1c9fde9a63/better-design-deep-thinking-4-brain.png 800w, https://res.cloudinary.com/indysigner/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto/w_1200/https://cloud.netlifyusercontent.com/assets/344dbf88-fdf9-42bb-adb4-46f01eedd629/30f0c810-a893-49ae-a33a-4f1c9fde9a63/better-design-deep-thinking-4-brain.png 1200w, https://res.cloudinary.com/indysigner/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto/w_1600/https://cloud.netlifyusercontent.com/assets/344dbf88-fdf9-42bb-adb4-46f01eedd629/30f0c810-a893-49ae-a33a-4f1c9fde9a63/better-design-deep-thinking-4-brain.png 1600w, https://res.cloudinary.com/indysigner/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto/w_2000/https://cloud.netlifyusercontent.com/assets/344dbf88-fdf9-42bb-adb4-46f01eedd629/30f0c810-a893-49ae-a33a-4f1c9fde9a63/better-design-deep-thinking-4-brain.png 2000w" src="https://res.cloudinary.com/indysigner/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto/w_400/https://cloud.netlifyusercontent.com/assets/344dbf88-fdf9-42bb-adb4-46f01eedd629/30f0c810-a893-49ae-a33a-4f1c9fde9a63/better-design-deep-thinking-4-brain.png" sizes="100vw" alt="" /> </a> <figcaption class="op-vertical-bottom"> Kickstart your brain (Image credit: <a href='https://pixabay.com/illustrations/brain-biology-abstract-cerebrum-951874/'>geralt</a>) (<a href='https://cloud.netlifyusercontent.com/assets/344dbf88-fdf9-42bb-adb4-46f01eedd629/30f0c810-a893-49ae-a33a-4f1c9fde9a63/better-design-deep-thinking-4-brain.png'>Large preview</a>) </figcaption> </figure> <p>Easing into deep work or jumping in with both feet are often useful as long as it’s possible to avoid those nettlesome distractions. Even so, everyone gets stuck and needs time to regroup and let the mind wander.</p> <h4 id="tip-3-schedule-unstructured-thinking-time">Tip 3: Schedule Unstructured Thinking Time</h4> <p>Just as designers and other professionals need time to think through complex problems, they also need time to let the mind wander. The reason is the science behind “shower moments,” when ideas seem to arrive out of the blue.</p> <p>In fact, the brain needs time for incubation, the <a href="https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/media-spotlight/201304/letting-your-mind-wander">psychological term for the unconscious recombination of thought</a> processes after they are stimulated by conscious mental effort such as working on a specific design problem. In other words, when you set aside a strenuous mental task and do something less demanding, the brain is able to process and organize your thoughts to form new ideas.</p> <p>Effective leaders value unstructured thinking time as outlined in <a href="https://hbr.org/2017/09/how-to-regain-the-lost-art-of-reflection">How to Regain the Art of Lost Reflection</a>. Jeff Weiner, CEO at LinkedIn, blocks at least 90 minutes for reflection and describes these buffers as “the single most important productivity tool” he uses. Susan Hakkarainen, Chairman and co-CEO of Lutron Electronics, uses 40-minute walks to reflect explaining that “Thinking is the one thing you can’t outsource as a leader. Holding this time sacred in my schedule despite the deluge of calls, meetings, and emails is essential.”</p> <p>In short, designers should take their cues from these business leaders. Give your brain a break.</p> <div class="sponsors__lead-place"></div> <h4 id="tip-4-vote-it-off-the-island">Tip 4: Vote It Off The Island</h4> <p>This tip comes from the Harvard Business Review article <a href="https://hbr.org/2016/06/stop-doing-low-value-work">Stop Doing Low-Value Work</a> by Priscilla Claman. She cites the example of a controller who was producing monthly reports that nobody read. He sent a list to his colleagues asking them to identify the three or four most important reports. He simply stopped writing the reports that no one was reading.</p> <p>Another approach is to request permission to not do something such as asking customers if they really want their receipts. The point, writes Claman, is to stop doing something that is not important but to ask first to avoid getting in trouble. <strong>It’s vital that we stop ourselves from doing unimportant work</strong>.</p> <p>Designers can identify possibly unimportant work by asking if:</p> <ul> <li>Every wireframe must include detailed annotations;</li> <li>Every design deliverable must include a detailed design document;</li> <li>It’s really necessary to produce many variations of a design when studies <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Paradox-Choice-More-Less-Revised/dp/0062449923/ref=sr_1_1?crid=13SFCOP3RXGW0&keywords=barry+schwartz+the+paradox+of+choice&qid=1570220933&sprefix=barry+schwartz%2Caps%2C194&sr=8-1">about choice</a> and <a href="https://www.researchgate.net/publication/12189991_When_Choice_is_Demotivating_Can_One_Desire_Too_Much_of_a_Good_Thing">decision making</a> show that too many options make it harder to reach a decision.</li> </ul> <p>No one wants to feel as if their work is sitting on a virtual shelf. By asking clients and stakeholders what matters to them, you’ll cater to their needs and save time by discarding unnecessary tasks.</p> <p>The next step is to assess the remaining important work to determine how much time you can, and should, devote to deep thinking.</p> <h4 id="tip-5-distinguish-deep-and-shallow-work">Tip 5: Distinguish Deep And Shallow Work</h4> <p>Follow the steps below to make this assessment concrete, something you can point to and share with your boss.</p> <ol> <li>Identify the activities that you consider deep work such as planning a usability test, drawing wireframes, or mocking up a prototype.</li> <li>Identify shallow work activities like answering emails, attending administrative meetings or meetings tangentially related to your core responsibilities.</li> <li>Estimate the amount of time you spend on deep and shallow work each week.</li> <li>Meet with your boss for thirty minutes and ask her what she thinks the ratio of deep to shallow work should be. Ask for a specific number. If you disagree, politely ask if you may experiment with a different ratio for one month.</li> <li>Then, stick to the agreed-upon number for one month. Document any changes to your productivity, anything that contributes to a better product or service. After one month, report these findings to your boss.</li> </ol> <p>This approach offers two advantages:</p> <ul> <li>It’s usually wise to solicit the boss’s support.</li> <li>A single proposal about deep work will not change an entire organization. Involving management, however, can serve as a catalyst for broader change just as the <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Sprint-Solve-Problems-Test-Ideas/dp/150112174X/ref=asc_df_150112174X/?tag=hyprod-20&linkCode=df0&hvadid=266094129756&hvpos=1o2&hvnetw=g&hvrand=4697014055740886414&hvpone=&hvptwo=&hvqmt=&hvdev=c&hvdvcmdl=&hvlocint=&hvlocphy=9032434&hvtargid=pla-436091533585&psc=1">Google Ventures Design Sprint</a> influenced the design process at Google and beyond.</li> </ul> <h3 id="why-deep-work-makes-everything-better">Why Deep Work Makes Everything Better</h3> <p>Deep work allows designers and developers to thrive by leveraging their skills to solve complex problems and create better products and designs. Better products are likely to boost the bottom line while thriving and highly satisfied employees are more likely to stay (reducing turnover) and put their best selves forward.</p> <p>Perhaps the best news for employers is that deep work does not require adding staff. The solution, explains computer scientist Cal Newport, is to <strong>re-configure work and communication</strong>. In other words, it’s not more people; it’s the same people managing work differently.</p> <p>For example, agencies often answer to clients and need to be available at a moment’s notice. Rather than require every employee to be tethered to a phone or laptop, Newport suggests assigning a different employee each day to a dedicated email or a special “bat phone.” This shows the client their importance to the agency while also allowing designers to concentrate on designing, building, and solving problems.</p> <h3 id="conclusion">Conclusion</h3> <p>Deep work is the ability to focus on challenging tasks like design and coding. Frequent interruptions make deep work nearly impossible and impose a high financial cost. In this piece, we’ve described five tips for maximizing the time you devote to deep work.</p> <ol> <li><strong>Jump into design work.</strong><br /> Draw fresh wireframes or work on a new design problem before checking emails and Slack messages. Block two-hour chunks on your calendar to allow time for deep thinking.</li> <li><strong>Kickstart your brain with useful questions.</strong><br /> Take a few minutes to ask what you are trying to accomplish and how it aligns with the company’s keep performance indicators (KPIs). Alignment with KPIs is especially important for user experience designers who are frequently asked to justify their budget</li> <li><strong>Schedule unstructured thinking time.</strong><br /> Take a walk, stare out the window, or whatever allows your mind to wander. This “downtime” allows the brain to form new connections.</li> <li><strong>Vote it off the island.</strong><br /> Are you writing reports that no one reads? Are you scheduling meetings that your co-workers find less than useful? Ask your colleagues if it’s okay to stop. They might respond with a gleeful “yes!”</li> <li><strong>Distinguish deep and shallow work.</strong><br /> Then, meet with your boss to arrive at the right balance between these two types of work.</li> </ol> <h4><span class="rh">Further Reading</span> on SmashingMag:</h4> <ul> <li><a title="Read 'How People Make Decisions'" href="https://www.smashingmagazine.com/2019/02/human-decision-making/" rel="bookmark">How People Make Decisions</a></li> <li><a title="Read 'Maximizing The Design Sprint'" href="https://www.smashingmagazine.com/2017/11/maximizing-design-sprint/" rel="bookmark">Maximizing The Design Sprint</a></li> <li><a title="Read 'Creating Online Environments That Work Well For Older Users'" href="https://www.smashingmagazine.com/2019/11/online-environments-older-users/" rel="bookmark">Creating Online Environments That Work Well For Older Users</a></li> <li><a title="Read 'User Experience Psychology And Performance: SmashingConf Videos'" href="https://www.smashingmagazine.com/2018/08/smashingconf-ux-videos/" rel="bookmark">SmashingConf Videos: User Experience Psychology And Performance</a></li> </ul> <div class="signature"> <img src="https://www.smashingmagazine.com/images/logo/logo--red.png" alt="Smashing Editorial"> <span>(ah, il)</span> </div>

from Web Designing And Development https://www.smashingmagazine.com/2019/11/better-design-deep-thinking/