#Just cast everyone from the game and boom; you have the perfect show

[childofaura]

Ok I thought I was gonna be making one nitpicky rant about TLoU show deaths but

I guess I’m actually making two. Because I saw another death and while I find there was nothing broadly wrong with it, there was some cinematic choices that drove me bonkers that I just wanna stress over.

So the rest will be under the cut, but for starters, this is about Sarah and Tess

Ok so Sarah isn’t really the meat of this rant, but I do want to talk about her death scene in the show because several things about it had bugged me. And please, I’m not really here to talk about the race swap. Overall I think it’s a little sus, moreso because the actress is the daughter of one of the executives of the show; so it suspiciously indicates nepotism. But the actress herself actually managed to do a pretty great job for Sarah’s death so really I couldn’t give a shit. ANYWAYS, the show’s death. What bugged me about it was the fact that there were CUTS while Joel is trying to comfort her and struggling to pick her up. The beauty of the cinematic choice in the game, where it turns into one continuous shot the moment Joel crawls over to Sarah, is that it inherently puts us in that moment with Joel, and by panning the camera over instead of cutting each time, it really shows how Sarah is right at death’s door, like you can HEAR the exact moment that she cries her last little whimper and just... goes quiet, right when the camera pans towards Tommy’s face. The problem with having scene cuts is that it drags the scene out in such an awkward way. Plus, Sarah’s still actively crying while Joel is screaming for Tommy to help him, and then the moment it cuts to Tommy the audio just cuts out very clumsily. As it cuts back to Joel Sarah’s just already dead, and additionally it makes no sense for Tommy to call to Joel to have him realize Sarah’s dead when she was still screaming and crying right as the camera cut. And then additionally, I’m not fond of the addition of Tommy saying Joel’s name, it feels almost... cold and detached. Like the tone of that line is “Joel she’s dead, it’s too late”. Whereas in the game, he’s moving towards Joel and Sarah and he’s in so much shock because he’s watching his niece dying in a crying, bloody mess.

So long story short, nothing wrong with the scene itself (though I gotta say I don’t think I’m a fan of Pedro Pascal’s line deliveries while he’s trying to stop Sarah’s bleeding. That’s less of a “one’s better than the other” and more of “that’s just my opinion that the emotion of the line delivery in the game was better”). Scene stayed true to the game.

But ohhh, OHHHH, you wanna know which death REALLY ruffled my feathers? Tess. Tess’ death was done so damn dirty in the show compared to the game (and side note, I hate the change to Tess’s character design. I loved the short hair held up by the headband, and I loved the short sleeves that showed her arms). I think by changing the entire death in the show, you take away from the character herself, and let me explain how.

In the game, they get to the Firefly meeting place, the Fireflies have been wiped out, and we find out Tess has been bitten. The military shows up, and Tess tells Joel that she’ll buy them some time and convinces both him and Ellie to leave. And the IMPORTANCE of her line “I WILL NOT turn into one of those things!”, which I’ll talk about. Joel and Ellie leave, Tess composes herself and gets ready to fight the soldiers. As you leave, you hear gunshots and hear Tess scream, and you find out she took out two soldiers; there was six guys and Tess took down two of them. This death is a perfect encapsulation of Tess’ character: resilient, stubborn, tough-as-nails, takes matters into her own hands. That is a death that treats the character with respect and actually plays into the character’s personality. It FITS. Tess is a woman whose life, her choices, it’s all in her hands and she will do what SHE wants to do.

In the TV show, they get to the Firefly meeting place, the Fireflies were killed by infected, and everything still plays out the same with Tess’ infection reveal (and I gotta say I’m not a fan of the dialogue choices nor am I a fan of the fact they tried to heavy-handedly push how Joel and Tess are a couple with the cuddling scene, whereas in the game the ambiguity of their relationship plays better into that final scene. I like the “Look, there’s enough here that you have to feel some sort of obligation to me” way more). Joel hears the infected, Tess starts tipping over some gasoline and grenades, and Joel and Ellie leave. Tess is panicking and frightened as the infected approach and flood in while trying to light the lighter, and then the BULLSHIT. The FUCKING KISS from the infected. And no I don’t wanna hear any ‘bUT it’S NoT A kISS, iT’S INfeCTiNg HEr’ excuses. It’s a fucking kiss disguised under the thin veneer of being some cool new infected lore, and it changes the entire death from a defiant last stance to a creepy, voyeuristic scene that’s going for a cringe-out factor. Like... Sure, you COULD explore that method of infection, it COULD be a neat behavior that we haven’t seen before.

But you don’t do that for Tess. She’s the wrong character to explore that with, and the show better actually try to stay consistent and show that again if people are gonna use the excuse of that scene being necessary. And the reason why it bugs me so much is because Tess, despite her short time in the story, is such a poignant character. She’s Joel’s partner, she’s OUR first partner. Taking that power out of her hands, putting her in this freaky powerless position where it’s like she’s being taken advantage of, does not compliment the character, especially when the death is a very easy to pull off trick that only solely relied on the lighter not working for cheap tension. If you wanted to give us a tense action scene, they could have actually shown us the Tess gunfight scene from her perspective, maybe give her one or two more kills than she had in the game. But this death was really insulting to the character.

TL;DR I’m incredibly autistic about all this dumb shit and it really just boils down to a difference of opinion.

[rotteneggssuck]

AAAAHHHH!!! Ok. I saw some TikTok videos saying “combine the last video game you played and last tv show you watched” and I was like “oh, that would be danganronpa v3 and dungeon meshi”. Now I’m going fucking insane over it.

Anyway, here’s what I think all the v3 characters, races would be in the dungeon meshi universe.

Angie-Gnome. This one is kinda weird to start with BUT, gnomes live side by side with nature spirits and ask them for help with magic and stuff. I think Angie suits being a long life race, idk why. Also she’s would looks so cute with the ears.

Gonta-Oger. Big. Need I explain more? He’s just a gentle giant, and I think the big horns and teeth would also add to his “people get scared when they see me” story.

Himiko-Gnome. It’s literally perfect, shut up. Magic being culturally significant, generally a pretty short race, even for a character design point! The sleepy droopy eyes!!!! AHHHH! Love her.

Kaede-Tall man. She’s just so!!!! That’s all I can say. I just think if she was made another race it would take away from her everything. Like I debated an elf but, it just didn’t feel right.

Kaito-Tall man. Are you going to sit here and tell me that kaito isn’t the most guy of men. He would 100% say shit like “I only have a short life, so I need to make the most of it!” Then run head first into a dragon fight without any plans.

Kiibo-Beast man. Specifically a werewolf, like just. “I know I’m a beast man, but I’m still just as human as anyone else!” And he would still get to contemplate his humanity:DDD. I can just picture kokichi being a massive bitch about it too.

Kirumi-Elf. She’s just hot like that. Also you know, the expectation of her being perfect and talented. I feel like at first she would pity short life races and fall into the “they are like children” mindset (obviously still doing anything they asked of her, she’s still herself) then after meeting the cast, would go “oh, wait. These are just people. They don’t need pity ��for just existing”.

Kokichi-Half foot. Ok this is another one that’s absolutely perfect. Like the lock-picking, them commonly being known for thievery, and he would absolutely use those big old ears for no good!!!! Literally just a perfect match.

Korekiyo-Kobold. Ok. This is going to be the first of a few “because I said so” he would just look so god dam good like that. It would just add to his “I’m mysterious and not much is known about me” vibe. Yes. I know kobolds tend to stay in there community’s, and can’t speak in the common tongue that well. Fuck you!!!

Maki-Half foot. I know some might question this, but hear me out! It would be so handy for her assassin thing! Like the hearing would be a massive help, her size would make it easier to go unnoticed, also she would be incredibly light footed.

Miu-Dwarf. They’re like the technology race! They invent shit! Also her brash attitude would just fit in most with dwarves, she’s probably a bit confused why everyone’s getting mad at her for being, well, her.

Rantaro-Elf. Because I said so #2. He’s just hot, I don’t think he would pity short life races tho. My mans is too well traveled for that shit to slide.

Ryoma-Dwarf. Ok yes. It is because he’s short. But also because of his demeanour, like he’s really gruff and stoic, I imagine his backstory would be much of the same, but with the added benefit of “I will outlive most of the friends I make, so why make friends in the first place”.

Shuichi-Elf. Pure fucking vibes. Just look at him. Also something something, his parents are probably these great Influential people or whatever, and he feels like all he’s achievement’s mean nothing….. something something.

Tenko-Kobold. Another absolutely perfect one! Like, just! AG! Look at everything we know about kobolds! It can be applied to Tenko!! Also she’s not immune to the “because I said so” argument. She’s my favourite. Kobolds are my favourite. Boom. Done.

Tsumugi-Tall man. Don’t even try to argue this one. Tall men are the “nothing too special about them” race. The plain race. Like I don’t know what you want from me.

Anyway that’s all. Maybe keep an eye out for some art of this crossover. Idk. Had lots of fun tho. Obviously if anyone wants to use this idea as a springboard you absolutely can, but please let me see!!! I wanna see someone going as insane as I am about my favourite game being crossed over with such a cool manga/anime

[wonryllis]

MOOT GAME : " put your moots and their biases in a prompt generator and rate them!! "

only if u want to ^^

、ㅤ🍓 ⋆ ࣪ 午 MOOTS IN PROMPT GENERATOR ᵎᵎ

that's such a creative game! loved doing this!! since this is an enblr account i've only done enha bias,, included everyone except those who have left or are inactive or whose bias i don't know. (p.s. @okwonyo this is the one i suspected was you :) ( MUTUALS )

@jaesvelvet ( cha )

jay. cuteee 8/10 and then taking pictures and getting sad when the cast comes off but really like drawing on cast is therapeutic.

sunghoon. that's straight up soft romance like ahhh 10/10 sucks for that friend to see y'all lovey dovey even in sleep but that's literally the purest thing everrrr

heeseung. now this is my thing, we're getting on to the real deal everything/10 can read this trope thousand times and still love love love it though cha it'll be pretty sad for you bae.

@hoes4hoseok ( piper ) & @heelvsted ( rin ) & @boyfhee ( caelin )

jay. this is crack, full of crack but this trope is saurrr good one of the best of all times and piper would probably elevate it even further obvious x obvious 11/10 we all love that don't we.

heeseung. oh my god rin you living in a f2l fanfic this is so good and cute and fluffy like 17/10 imagine lee heeseung cheering you up with his silly jokes and rizzless(full) attempts at flirting. if you ain't falling for him there's and then, then you are god's strongest soldier.

heeseung. this is 1000000/10 this is so unique, don't know if it's cael's cup of tea but it's definitely mine! crack and romance,,, next level of crack like imagine cael getting her enemies to lovers arc after becoming a ghost and scaring the daylights out of people, fun right?

@jangwonie ( fae ) & @atrirose ( seiu ) & @jungqkook ( aurora/haru )

jungwon. this is totally my type again, the sick in love would do anything to see you happy tolerate all your shit, find it adorable ... 99/10 those lovesick eyes that watch you tell the most unhinged thing and think of how much they love you and how cute you are and how much you mean to them. like okayyyyy that's love.

riki. so cute so cute so cute so cute,,, love/10 literally so good sei is living in her own yn world and we are all just side characters. and not to mention this is so riki too he'd definitely fight and then somehow be discovered by the one he has feelings for and they boom the awkward confession and kiss ahhhhh i'm in love with this prompt,, kinda manga vibes which i loveeee

heeseung. noooo this is the cutest yet saddest prompt everrrr,,, haruu babe im so sorry this had to be it buttt let's look at the cute and crack part only especially if you get scared and startled easily imagine him trying to talk to you not having shown himself yet and you just get scared and scream lmao 9/10 becuz i don't wanna see haru sad.

@enhalov ( muse ) & @okwonyo ( jiah/bambi )

jay. the perfect little yn moment straight out of "how to get your crush to notice you" 100000000/10 love love love thisss, museee you got such a banger prompt, so so so fanfic coded i can't stress enough on how perfect it is and how much you suit this!!!

sunoo. this is a kdrama moment! 7/10 because pda (i feel shy even witnessing it) but good for muse you're showing it off to everyone and that too on ny eve like imagine the fireworks finishing off and then sunoo goes for a kiss becuz now everyone's attention is off from fireworks.

jake. okay no why is this so jiah coded? bambi would definitely do this for jake like a million times yk reminding him how much he means to her and how much girlie loves him. "she needs to make sure jake is always aware of his importance in her life!" infinity/10 one of my favs.

@joomiu ( nat )

sunoo. cuteeee strangers to lovers starting on the train 7/10 falling asleep on someone's shoulder is such pure fluff. nat better seize the opportunity to bag sunoo up, you don't getting him laying his head on you everyday.

sunghoon. this is so classic but still so heart fluttering man 111/10 absolute cuteness. full of domestic vibes! i know for a fact nat would do this and then giggle over this for weekss,, i mean who wouldn't.

jungwon. this is thousand kisses nat vibes totally fits her vibes and can literally imagine this actually happening, nat fussing over the fogged up glasses and lovesick won staring at her with heart eyes omgggg gem/10

@heecyon ( bee/ally)

sunghoon. this is like a lifetime kinda love you gotta grab it while you have it 9/10 absolute domestic vibes yk a supporting partner who goes to all ends.

jake. this is cute, super cute, next they kisss. 6/10 because we hate getting sick

jay. another angsty one we here 1000/10 for my sad loving ass. the star-crossed illfated turned forever lovers we go. this gives the love, rosie vibes i cried my eyes out to that but that was some good emotional shit.

@heesbaby ( cinna ) & @ctrlemis ( art )

jay. classic and then they realise their feelings and fall in love. 15/10 cinna and her dream jay date?

sunoo. now this seems very unlikely,, it would be more like both of them screaming their lungs out but this is nevertheless super cute so 9/10

sunoo. this so gives art vibes. can really picture it all happening, sunoo all excited to match? and then there's art secretly loves it but no way is gonna show it on the outside and happily wear it to make sunoo and sunoo's mom happy. 9/10

[awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands]

Thank you so much for your tag <3. Disclaimer: these are not great movies per se, they are just my comfort movies. Media products can be very subjective and as long as we recognize they are not perfect but they work for us, fuck the rest <3

Rules: post 10 of your favorite comfort movies then tag 10 people.

The Warriors: One of my first fav movie ever. I was way too young to watch it, but the Rockstar videogame for Ps2 that my brother played, just made me fell in love with it.

The Dirt: It's just so familiar since I've seen it many times. It has the humor and the sadness, sure it's not perfect but it has a piece of my heart

Lost Boys: I was convinced by Jeords to watch it but I was afraid I wouldn't like it... well I WAS WRONG. It's very 80s but that's what makes it so unique. It has it all, the cheesiness and the sexy vampires.

Hunger Games Thrilogy: One of the best book to movie adamptation. " But there are much worse games to play." still make me cry like the first time I exit the cinema. It's thanks to this and many other YA movie that I took my first fangirl steps.

Bohemian Rhapsody: Like Andi said it's simple yet effective. The movie made me enter the rock fandom and I am so glad! Perfect casting and such great chemistry

Breakfast Club: Sometimes you just need to be understood and that's what this movie does. A simple yet effective story about how highschool can suck and that at the end of the day, we all have our curses and our blesses. Because screws fall out all the time, the world is an imperfect place.

Captain America, The Winter Soldier: I know, Marvel is far from great cinema, but sometimes I just need a "bromance" ( yeah sure, says the younger Alessia, a Stucky shipper ) between two 40s soldiers, a spy movie and Sebastian Stan before he decided to take part to a show that was done without the consent of one of the people involved (cough- Pam and Tommy- cough)

X-men Days of Future Past: Picture this : middle school me, who has never seen an X-men movie, hears nerdy classmates talking about this and young Alessia decides to watch the trailer : boom, instant love. The time traveling, the atmosphere, the iconic scenes. In general the X-men saga has a special place in my heart.

Barbie: Is it too early to put it in here? Probably. But I can't deny the range of emotions I felt while watching it, I can't describe how I laughed and cried and felt understood!

Mr Nobody: Such an interesting and complicated movie, yet it left a mark in my memory. Probably one of the reason I also love playing graphic adventures with choices à la Telltale.

I tag @legal-lost-boy @deep-space-siren @mxliv-oftheendless @welcometohollyweird @evenflowddts @aritamargarita @ladyshandioftheendless @officialmelkor @glamourizedcocaine @arnold-layne and everyone else who wants to do it! (no pressure <3)

thank you so much @fedalgaard for tagging me 🥺❤️

Rules: post 10 of your favorite comfort movies then tag 10 people.

frozen: it's just relatable to me and everyone calls me Elsa so I just accepted it

tangled: no words, it's just a comfort movie and I love every detail

10 things I hate about you: it's just one of those films that you can watch anytime and not get bored, it's cute, comforting and heath ledger is in it

home alone 1 and 2: (I know this is kinda cheating because they're two movies) they play it on tv every year in December and I've watched it every single year since I can remember, it brings me warm memories because I used to watch with my grandpa (they should've stopped filming them after home alone 2 because it all just went downhill from there) ((but the kid from home alone 3 is super adorable though))

the help: I could watch that film anytime, I don't have much to say about it because I just love everything

the devil wears prada: absolutely iconic and I hope we can all agree that Miranda wasn't the real villain, it was Andy's boyfriend and her friends 💅 fuck em

oceans 8: ✨women✨ that's all

bridget jones's diary: it's funny and hugh grant is in it, it reminds me of winter, my favorite season. I love to crawl under a fluffy blanket and make myself some hot chocolate and then put on bridget jones <3 can't wait

bohemian rhapsody: I know Hollywood is overdoing it with these biopics ever since bohemian rhapsody did so well at the Oscars, but this one really holds a special place in my heart and I love watching it whenever I can

shrek: it's a masterpiece, I don't make the rules 🤷🏼‍♀️

i tag: @emometalhead @awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands @day-trippin-dreamer @ephyjeva @stars-kiss-the-sky and everyone else who wants to do it! 🩷 (no pressure guys)

[larabar]

I would personally love to hear you rant about sonic x as I too loved that characterization of him ;w;

There was more than a few episodes of him legit going against the grain and being perceived as “the bad guy” and he didn’t care just cause he thought it was the right thing to do and I friggen LOVE that. I know some games have that characterization as well but it was just neat to that on a show

fair warning my ramblings get off the rails VERY quick get ready for this. its very long

i wanted to wait to answer this till after id watched more of the jp version because id only seen like. the last 3 eps. as much as i love the 4kids cast the original's just. so good man. watch it. i like sonic's personality in both versions but still

k. so

one of my favorite parts of his characterization in the show is how much it embodies his sa1/sa2 theme it doesnt matter.

so uh first thing that comes to mind is how. not self-centered he is. like i dont know where that characterization came from but its all over sonic media (dont get me wrong i still love that personality and think its hilarious. boom!sonic looking at you) but its just not how id describe his character in general

ANYWAYS like you said he literally Does Not care if something is 'good' or 'bad' he just does what he feels is right which is SO COOL for a character like him

like that one section of the show where egggman was making weird moon things for people's yards or something and sonic took one look at that and said Nope. literally everyone else was like bro?? we kinda need that light to live what are you doing?? and once again he Did Not care like he knew something was up and it wasnt good

and honestly i think its the little things about his personality that stand out to me the most. from his love for flowers. to spontaneously deciding to look for a small field of flowers in the mountains in the middle of nowhere becuse he knew cream had been feeling homesick. to random naps on rooftops because he feels like it. that kinda stuff

also he doesnt talk as much as his other characterizations. he figures stuff out silently in his head and you never really know exactly what hes thinking because his brain's moving a mile a minute (real adhd moment there) which is another thing thats not brought up much hes actually really smart? favorite example is the dark sonic episode (you know the one) when cosmo leaves to talk with black narcissus or whatever his name was. nobody knows where she is and everyone starts panicking but sonic's already figured out that she left the ship with the help of chris to get past the security. can we talk about how smart he is more often its one of my favorite characteristics of his

little off topic but theres also an episode of aosth (case of the missing hi-tops or something like that) where hes like a mini sherlock holmes and figures out who stole his shoes how they stole his shoes and why they stole his shoes and its. such a great episode guys please watch it. okok back to sonic x

i forgot what i was gonna say. uhhhhhhhhh oh yeah the race episode

sam sets up a giant race and pulls up to the thorndyke's house with the entire city lined up parade style at like 3am and challenges sonic to a race to which he once again says No and goes back to sleep. he could care less about what the city wants he just. idk man this whole situation is so funny. sonic finishes the race wayyy before sam, poses for the camera, goes back to sam, and finishes the race in an almost-tie i love this episode so much. im getting off topic again

ok i know everyone talks about the helen episode but im gonna talk aboout the helen episode. sonic just casually tells chris he promised one of his classmates he'd take her to an island in the middle of a lake and he Does It. with the entire army following him because he refused to go to a party with the president. how could a better episode be written its perfect

can i talk about cruise blues now. cool so cruise blues is one of my favorite episodes because it completely changes up his character and at the same time keeps it the same but also gives him character development ? that sounds really complicated just bare with me. sonic doesnt like boats. at all. for good reason tho theres no room to run theres water everywhere and also seasickness is a thing. anyways sonic takes the situation really well and decides the only way off this boat other than launching himself off the deck 30 times is to psychologically manipulate everyone on the ship through various means that leave him hanging on for dear life to a pole so amy doesnt smash him to pieces. he learns his lesson after that i think

point is by the end of the episode he learns to relax and its just all in all really chill at the end? he learns he needs to take it slow and rest sometimes and i think its the only ep to actually try to develop sonic's character

idk what else to talk about. ep 26 and the last two eps of s2 are really good but i have no idea how to put them into words

tl;dr: sonic x is good (understatement)

[husbandohunter]

Stardew Impact [Genshin+Stardew Valley/xReader]

Part 1/3 Kaeya, Diluc

Synopsis: “A mysterious phenomenon brought you and your s/o to an unfamiliar world: Pelican Town! Without the power of Visions, the two of you begin to learn the life of what it takes to be...a farmer?”

(DOMESTIC FARM LIFE YIP YIP)

Coming soon...

Albedo and Childe

Zhongli and Xiao

(A/N): So the brainrot was real in this one. I planned to add Albedo for a Mondstadt edition but kinda went overboard so I gotta split this one into parts too. Wordcount_almost 2k spspspsp

______________________________________________________

Diluc

• Already has the whole year planned in his head. Literally if Diluc were to play this game, he'd have a booming farm within year ONE. Calm and collected through and through, though the new environment raises alot of questions, as long as you were still with him, Diluc ain't complaining

• The town welcomes you two with open arms. It was all thanks to the attire. Diluc wore his usual dark coat adorned with regal gold while you had a dress made of Liyue's finest silk, one that he bought for you. Needless to stay both of you reeked the aura of rich aristocrats (Mayor Lewis is pleased that greedy bastard)

• Once the farm was permitted to your owndership, Diluc began to think of ways to turn it into a vineyard. He was a businessman afterall. Although the staff back at the Dawn Winery were the ones who tended the field, Diluc still knew a few things about planting due to his childhood days Master Crepus would bring him out to their yard and demonstrated the process of gardening. He still remembers those days clearly, doing the very same this moment with you.

• Occasionally works at the Saloon bar. It was the perfect opportunity. As you took care of the farm side, Diluc continues to look for more ways to increase the income while gathering information from the folks around town. Gus LOVES to have him over, like he's just so efficient and reliable! They soon become good friends saying if Diluc were ever to own a wine stock, he would gladly buy from him.

• This is why Diluc would stay a little later due to just chatting with the people from the bar. One time you walked into the Saloon only to the front desk with Emily alone. Turns out the others were in the other room, too busy playing a game of pool. You decided to leave him be since it was rare to have Diluc so relaxed in leisure activities. Thus in the end, you spent your time chatting with Emily until a whole hour has passed before your lover notices and apologizes for losing track of time.

• Everything felt like a dream because it was his dream. To live a life undisturbed from chaos, his duties and the dangers that lurk in Teyvat, Diluc grew fond of the domesticity. There was nothing he loved more than to spend his hours by your side, day after day, returning home to your freshly handmade meals.

• Spring: Already up and early planting the parnersnips (I'm very soft for gardener Diluc you see). What do you expect from a workaholic? Even during his leisure time you would often find him near some plant as he does consider this hobby quite therapeutic. But when it rains, Diluc would be standing beside you with an arm around your shoulder, smiling contently as you lean into his touch. He gazes through the dripping window and silently admires the current progress you both made on the farm.

• Between the two annual spring festivities, I would say the flower dance. Diluc is a private man and would prefer to take things where no eyes were on sight. But with a little bit of nudging from Gus (your wingman), he gives in and leads you to the center stage. Elegant. Graceful. The way you two moved together became the talk of the event. Though, Diluc was already used to people staring by now, all he needed to do was to ignore them and keep his focus on you.

• Summer: No blankets in bed. Nope, its bloody hot in Pelican Town. He tends to stay indoors or anywhere with shade, in other words, his work hours in the Saloon increased.

• Diluc always has a nice cold drink prepared for you if by any chance you were to pay a visit after a whole day of labour. It's a habit he's made subconciously as if it would be a natural occurance for you to enter the door. His colleagues would ask him who did he make that drink for? Honestly so cute i cri

• Moments like these remind him of Mondstadt, where he quietly wipes the glasses while listening to you talk. Your voice is soothing. Sun rays peek from the side casting onto the umber tables, reflecting a rich golden light as the radio plays a soft song in the background. It's so peaceful, the town was small hence not many people visited the bar, Diluc came to appreciate this warm privacy (plus no Venti and Kaeya which is a huge pog realization).

• Autumn: Harvest time baby. The kegs are full and the sheds are full of kegs. This season was huge stonks and the house ended up getting an upgrade. Diluc is the type of man who wants to make sure that his spouse wouldn't have to work another day of her life. I reckon this is why he's so ambitious because he wants you to have the best and you deserve the best. (Husband material. Slap a ring on him ladies).

When there was no more work left to do, time would be spend peacefully exploring the woods. While you skipped a few steps ahead as the leaves crunched beneath your feets, Diluc follows slowly from behind. He sees your back but his eyes stares somewhere far beyond whats in front of him: His future. 

It was such a stark contrast to the one he envisioned before. One filled with uncertaintly, blocked by darkness with no silver lining in sight, endlessly wandering as he drags the claymore against the ground. There was never a day in which the Darknight hero wouldn't think of Mondstadt. Leaving the city in the incompetent hands of Ordo Favonious while Abyss Mages continue to lurk fuels him to find a way to return as soon as possible and yet...

"Higher big sis!" Jas tightens her hold on the ropes as you pushed the swing with all your might. She laughs, like a child, it was full of innocence and joy. Later Vincent came in and nugdes you, asking when his turn will come.

"You wanna go too? Alright alright don't worry," waiting for Jas to come down, you lift the boy up so that he was seated safely on the chair, "3..2..1 go!"

He wonders if he could just be a little selfish for once.

• Winter: Best man to have in this season. Every morning Diluc would find himself restricted in movements due to a pair of arms around his waist and legs entangled with yours. Turns out you've been doing it subconciously because he's just so warm (Diluc keeps it lowkey and pretends to sleep longer cuz of it)

~~xx~~

Kaeya

• Haha looks like the portal is gone, guess we'll be stuck forever :)). No kidding Kaeya would be so down to stay here for the rest of his life and the best part is to spend it with you. He doesn't show a shred of concern regarding Teyvat, not like he's easily shaken by events that are abnormal, but you can see that Kaeya is truly and genuinely happy. (You're stunned).

• Oho we also have this marvelous landscape just for the two of us? And a cozy little cabin to go along with it as well? This should be fun~ 

• Of course Kaeya would also know a few things about planting, just the basics since he did grow up with Diluc. When they were kids, Crepus would give each of them their own pots so they can grow their own plants. It eventually became a competitive thing where whoever's plant grows the fastest gets to eat the other person's dessert for a year (no one wins. They end up sabotaging each other which Diluc started first, thinking it'll be funny as a joke).

• You are, and will be going on dates with him. In fact, the amount of dates you two went on increased since then. The townspeople would call you two "lovebirds" since he's practically by your side 24/7. 

• I mean he doesn't have the responsibilities as a Cavalry Captain anymore so what else is there to do?

• Would attend all annual events no matter what season. 

• Evelyn constantly gushes how much of a wonderful pair you and Kaeya make and often is the one who provides Kaeya a fresh bouqet of flowers for him to use as a gift. George on the otherhand just rolled his eyes mumbling something along the lines of "youngsters these days" and "crazy hormones."

• Befriends Pam. Love for beer plus somewhat cynical attitude? They get along real swell! She starts sending some recipes into the mailbox of course saying if yall ever need a hand, let her know.

• Spring: I can see Kaeya be switching back and forth between caring for the farm or taking quests posted on Pierre's bulletin board. He likes to keep things interesting, learning the ways of the new world while also getting to know the people around town.

• Would NOT return Mayor Lewis' shorts in which he found in Marnie's room. It's such high quality blackmail material. Kaeya is currently plotting what is the best way to use it to his advantage.

• He didn't tell you of course.

• Summer: There are no blankets because he is your blanket. Since your cabin was small so was the bed. That's why he has to hold you so that no one falls off when rolling over. Either he hugs you with your nose close to his neck, or your back against his chest while spooning you or holding hands if sleeping on your sides became too much. Yall need a serious house upgrade.

• For some reason Kaeya becomes more energetic in the summer. He lets you rest in the shade while handling the farm work for the time being. If you guys got a pet it would be a cat. Hes the first one to refill their bowl every morning outside.

Another day passes as summer comes to an end, the town’s Mayor invited you and your lover to see the annual Dance Of the Moonlight Jellies. Kaeya being the opportunist was delighted to come along. Locking the door of your house, you follow him down the path and made your way to the beach.

Everyone from town was already gathered by the docks when the sun had disappeared down the horizon. You stood by his side in a space far from the others, watching  the candle boats set off to ride the waves, lighting up a small ray of light for creatures to find. 

“Wow,” your tone almost above a whisper, “If only our friends back home could see this too.”

“Perhaps,” he says. Kaeya slips his fingers into yours and you shot him a curious glance, “But let us enjoy this moment shall we? Just the two of us.”

And there they were. A sea of luminescence radiating colours of brilliant blue with hints of green like a city of laterns floating in a world below. Their image reflects in the star of Kaeya's eyes as he wonders, where would they go? Where would the light lead them? They were so free with nothing to worry, so serene just like the sea and unknowningly, he squeezes your hand. It was a sense for confirmation. One to remind him that this moment was indeed a reality he wishes to keep.

Autumn: Finally a house upgrade and a kitchen!! Because it was harvest season, you guys end up making a set of delicious meals with all the recipes the townspeople gave you. Kaeya can cook since he lived by himself back in Mondstadt. Most of the stuff he learned to make were food that can be accompanied by alcohol though...

• Ahah remember Mayor Lewis' lucky shorts? He found a use for them. It was displayed on the stands during the Stardew Valley Fair (Oh my how did this get here? Must be the wind). Ends up buying a Rarecrow for the farm when Lewis bribes him not to tell this to anyone.

Winter: This was mostly an indoor season for the both of you. With the existence of television, nights would be spent until morning while watching movies at the couch. A blanket drapes around your shoulders as extends to his.  Oh and don't forget the hot chocolate! 

[jodibodie]

I Have Some Feelings

To start let me just emphasize how much I love and adore this show and always will. This was my covid show. Both of my kids loved “Lucifer” and always said I should watch so at the start of covid I binged it and when I say binged, I mean all 4 seasons in a few days and have rewatched so many times I’ve lost count. I think it is timeless, engrossing, original and all around amazing. The writing and the cast were all excellent. The writing was smart and consistently strong and that is so rare.  Funny, sad, poignant, it hit all the notes with very few plot holes or missteps. There is not one episode in the entire series that was not engaging. Even if I didn’t like an episode, it was still well done. What a rarity.

The cast is scary good. Completely underrated. Just all phenomenally talented.  I don’t remember the last time a cast was this strong.  From the core group to both reoccurring and guest stars, the cast was just fantastic.  

Tom Ellis, no words.  The man deserves to choose whatever he wants to do acting wise. He should have people breaking down his door. He can truly do it all and do it all well. He took a character that if portrayed by a lesser actor could have come off as a complete asshole and made him one of the most sympathetic and loveable characters in recent history. Ellis made a crime solving devil, a promiscuous man-child that occasionally breaks into song and the evidence room into a beloved character that has become an icon.  

Lauren German, WOW.  She is just so damn good. She can break your heart one second and have you laughing the next. She makes Chloe real, and people don’t realize how hard that is. Chloe is smart, kind, tough and gorgeous but she’s also an insecure dork.  She’s us and German just brings it.  

DB Woodside I’ve loved since “Buffy”.  He is a phenomenal actor and who knew he could bring the laughs so well? His expressions were classic. Clueless angel indeed. Amenadiel could have been very one-dimensional but because of Woodside’s talent he became fully fleshed out and full bodied.  

I have no doubt Lesley-Ann Brandt has a huge career in front of her.  She took a character that very well could have been hated, a demon and made her into one of the most human characters on the show. Kudos to her for taking a tough role and making it her own.  

Kevin Alejandro is another actor I’ve loved for a long time.  He also took a character who if we’re going to be honest here did so many unlikeable things that he should have been truly despised but because of Kevin’s portrayal he was beloved. Great actor and a terrific director.

Rachael Harris IMO is the downlow MVP.  She was literally the rock and again, with a lesser actress the role could have been a throwaway. The normal human, the sounding board but Harris imbued her with so much more.  Her spit takes, sarcasm and her obvious compassion was what made Dr. Linda an unforgettable character. Once again just perfect casting.  

Aimee Garcia was a great addition. She made Ella a fan fav and put so much heart, joy and sincerity into Ella never once did you doubt that she would prevail no matter what was thrown at her.  Garcia was just fantastic, and I want her skin care regime.  

Scarlett Estevez pulled off the one thing I thought almost impossible.  She took the role of a young child and made it so I didn’t want to cringe. She portrayed Trixie so beautifully from day one that she was a true pleasure to watch.  Even though Trixie was super precocious Estevez never made her obnoxious. I loved Trixie and I have never said that about any child character in an adult show.  She was wonderful and has an amazing career in front of her.

That said, I’ve got some feelings now that I’ve seen the finale and have had some time to digest it all.  I love that Chloe and Lucifer had eternity and I agree that they had to be separated for Chloe’s lifetime. Didn’t like it but it’s the logical path. She’s human, he’s not. The ageing thing alone necessitated them not being together long term on earth and that’s just to start the list. They had to had to be apart for the short term to get their eternity but the duality of Lucifer's ending and Amenadiel's didn't sit right. Amenadiel as God got to have it all. His calling, his family etc. while Lucifer had to give up everything.  I also don’t buy the “If he came up from hell, he could never leave them again” defense.  I call bullshit.  Amenadiel managed, plus, missing out on the day to day is a huge sacrifice and by Lucifer missing out on the day-to-day Rory could still have had the hatred she needed to drive the story.  Popping in for birthdays, graduations, weddings, etc., the big stuff does not a father make.  Not being there for skinned knees, first heartbreaks, and all the little things a daughter needs her dad for can build up tons of resentment.  Boom, absentee father, just like his dad was. That provides all the millennial angel angst you could ask for. I have a daughter; it doesn’t take much.

The Trixie issue was huge for me. Can Chloe see her in Heaven? Will she be able to travel to Heaven and visit Trixie, Penelope, Dan, her father?  Chloe hesitated leaving Heaven in 5x16 because she couldn’t bear saying good-bye to her dad again. It seems as if Chloe sacrificed everything for Rory including Trixie. I want to preface this by saying. I liked Rory and loved the actress. I didn’t however like how it was as if she were their only child.  When Lucifer spoke of family Trixie was not mentioned. Their family day, the same thing. She didn’t need to be there, I get that the explanation regarding Rory would have been way too much to get into but just a mention of her, how awesome it would have been to share this day with her would have worked. It seemed as if Lucifer went from, “I would do anything to protect that little Urchin” to “Trixie who”. Trixie was a character that we watched grow up and she meant something to us. I hate to say this, but the writers did Trixie and the viewers dirty in this regard.

This show was built around a few premises.  Free will, honesty, redemption, sacrifice and family, both blood and made. The ending completely negated almost all of these.  Chloe and their entire family were made into the one thing Lucifer abhorred the most which are liars. Their daughter was brought up surrounded by lies. What did they tell Trixie?  The poor kid just lost her dad, and she was pissed at Lucifer when he went back to hell the first time. Did she grow up hating him because as far as she knew Lucifer left her mom again without saying good-bye and this time it was even worse because Chloe was pregnant.  I get that the actress who plays Trixie had limited availability but seriously. A quick good-bye.

“Hey Urchin, you won’t understand why for a long time, but I have to leave. You know I never lie so I can’t explain why but know that I love you and your mom and one day I hope you can forgive me.”  

A 30 second scene would have worked.

As all the characters learned throughout the series, omission of the truth is just a form of lying and there are always repercussions i.e., Chloe and Father Kinley, Dan shooting Lucifer, Maze finding out about Lilith and even Ella not being told. As far as free will, both Chloe and Lucifer had their free will taken from them in the end. By Rory forcing them to abide by her wishes, their free will was forfeited. It was a huge manipulation on Rory’s part and considering how much Lucifer hated manipulations it just didn’t sit right.

Parents making huge sacrifices I get. Chloe and Lucifer sacrificed everything for their child. Unfortunately for me this sacrifice, the way it was written seemed contrived to pull out maximum and IMO unjustified angst. I love angst.  Hell, this is my favorite show.  I thrive on the angst. But as I wrote earlier, all the anger, angst and hatred towards Lucifer could have been achieved without having Lucifer completely out of the picture. I have two kids and my husband, and I have made huge life altering sacrifices for them as many parents do but being there for the day-to-day little things was what made the difference in their lives and cemented the close relationships we have with them.

“Yeah, dad you were great. Showing up for the fun stuff, always swooping in for the big finish to play the hero then ditching us when things got tough. When Grandma was dying where were you?  Nice that you showed up for the funeral but the six months leading up to it…we needed you and once again you weren’t there. When T got sick, when Jen broke my heart, blah, blah, blah…”

Even the whole Chloe dying scenario. They could have written it that rage Rory traveled minutes before Lucifer got there. Have him pop in right after Rory comes back. There were so many ways to achieve the end game they wanted other than the way they went. It seemed contrived and as if they took the easy way out to get where they needed to go. The Rory rage that was the catalyst for her traveling back in time and Lucifer finding his calling could still have been accomplished without the whole Lucifer disappearing storyline.

Now that I’ve finished my diatribe there’s a couple of additional things I would like to say.  Lucifer is and always will be one of my favorite shows of all time. There are not enough words to describe the comfort and enjoyment this show has brought me. Thank you, thank you, thank you to the producers, cast and crew. You truly created something special.

To the fandom. Please do not let a polarizing conclusion rip apart the fandom. The only other fandom I was a part of tore itself apart so badly that the FBI got involved.  Hence why I waited for 15 years to dip my toe in again. Everyone invested in this show has the right to their feelings.  Debate is fine, baiting and bullying are not. The Lucifer fandom like the show is very special. Without the fandom we wouldn’t have gotten any conclusion so don’t let opposing viewpoints tarnish what has been a magical journey.  

[itsdanii]

I'm in the middle of reading all ur works but I'm impatient because UR AMAZING LUV 😩✨ the transition from angst to fluff *chefs kiss* *salt bae's sprinkle* UGHHH sooo 👉🏻👈🏻 I'm just wondering if its possible to write a fan turned in to wife with bokuto and oikawa 🥺 ITS OKAY TO IGNORE THIS IF IT SEEMS COMPLICATED TO WRITE AJDHAKWPWODNDIE,, TAKE GOOD CARE OF YOURSELF LUV!!! 💗

Hey, bub. Thank you so much for reading and loving my works 🥺 HOW CAN I IGNORE SUCH GOOD REQUEST, HM?! It would be an honor to do it! I just hope I did it right and gave it justice though 😭 Anyway, here's your request, bub! I hope you like it. Have a good day, stay safe and stay hydrated! ♥️

Number 1 supporter

genre: fluff

warnings: manga spoilers, message me if i missed any

a/n: italicized paragraphs in bokuto's part are all flashbacks. read the warnings before you proceed. warnings have been put there for a reason.

ft. timeskip!oikawa tooru, timeskip!bokuto koutaro

curious on how to thank your number 1 fan? that's simple. just give them a ring, your family name, and you're all good to go.

Oikawa Tooru

You screamed on top of your lungs as your boyfriend, Oikawa Tooru, managed to get another perfectly landed spike.

People were roaring, drums were beating and the players were beyond exhausted but not once did their defense nor offense falter. Every spike, every block and every drop was worth the point. With their adrenaline putting them on top of their game, both teams played as if their life depended on it.

And in the end, Oikawa's team managed to secure their victory.

With a giant smile on his face, Oikawa searched the crowd as soon as their winning point was received, and despite the number of people shouting and cheering for his name, yours was only one he could hear perfectly.

There you were, in the middle of the crowd, wearing his spare jersey while holding a handmade poster of his perfectly written name.

The sight of you brought him a lot memories and he can't help but thank god for giving him the opportunity of meeting you, and at this moment, he knew that this was it.

This was the perfect time and there's no way he's going to let it pass.

After shaking each other's hand, Oikawa quickly made his way to the back of the gym. He took a quick shower, changed into some fresh clothes and with shaky hands, took the purple box he had in his bag.

He made his way back to the court where he was instantly crowded with the media. Flashes of lights surrounded him and several microphones were almost shoved at his face.

With a chuckle, Oikawa scratched the back of his head and tightened his grip on the box he was holding.

"Mr. Oikawa, you were amazing back there. You seemed almost unstoppable. What drived you to perform at the best of your game today?" one reporter asked.

Out of all the questions from the interviewers, that was the one that caught his attention. Turning to face the said reporter, he took the microphone which made the reporter blush immensely.

"Well, of course, I always do my best. I'm always the best," he said which earned a chuckle from the other reporters. "But since you're asking what drived me to be at my top performance, I'd say that it was probably this person-"

You squealed as Oikawa tugged at your hand, effectively pulling you out of the crowd and to his side. You blushed at the action and hid your face to his chest in embarrassment, his hand immediately rubbing circles on your back as he grinned.

"Sorry, guys. It seems like my dear y/n-chan is still quite camera shy."

You grunted against his chest and lightly hit his arm, a quiet mumble of "shut up," slipping past your lips.

"But seriously, out of everyone that cheered for me, this person right here-" Oikawa paused for a moment, his hand angling your face to look up at him before he continued, "-was the one whose cheers never failed to reach me, and since we're already here, I want to take the opportunity to ask them a very important question."

Murmurs filled the court as the star player went down on his knee and looked at you with a nervous smile. There, in front of you, was Oikawa Tooru holding a ring with hope in his eyes.

You felt your eyes tearing up and you instinctively brought a hand to your lips. "Tooru..." you whispered with a shaky voice.

"Y/n-chan, you've been my number one supporter since highschool. Don't you think it's about time you get promoted?" he said with a teasing voice, "I can still even remember the way you fainted when I accidentally aimed a ball towards the stand and hit your stomach. God, as rude as it may sound right now, I'll never regret and forget that day. I mean, how can I? Iwa-chan scolded me for the whole day and ordered me to apologize to your fan group," Oikawa added with a fond smile as if he was envisioning the situation inside his mind.

"You didn't leave when I was at my lowest point, but instead stayed beside me when almost everyone had their backs turned against me. You were there in every matches we won, in every matches we lost to, and in every milestone that I got. You accepted the challenges of being in a distance relationship with me despite the doubts, insecurities and countless possibilities surrounding us. Heck, you even followed me here in Argentina after you graduated." With his free hand, Oikawa wiped the tears now trailing down his cheek, his voice becoming shaky with every passing second. "You were always there and I don't know what I'd do if I never have met you. So now, I'm asking you, can you not only be my number one supporter but also my wife?"

You instantly nodded your head, your figure now trembling as you cried out of happiness. "Yes, yes," you answered repeatedly.

With a relieved sigh, Oikawa slipped the ring on your finger and stood up. He enveloped you in his arms, burrying his face to the side of your neck as he tightened his embrace. "Thank you. I love you so much, baby. I promise I'll be the best husband. I won't let you down," he murmured against your skin before pulling away to stare at your eyes. "I love you."

You leaned to his hand when he cupped your cheeks, eyes almost closing at the soothing feeling of his touch. "I love you, my Tooru."

Your lips slowly met each other's. Your arms encircling his neck while his arms snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

And as the flashes of cameras captured this moment, Tooru thanked his lucky stars for bringing you to him.

Bokuto Koutaro

Bokuto heaved out a relieved sigh as he stepped inside your apartment. Making sure to close the door behind him, he carefully made his way to the bedroom where his face immediately lit up at the sight of you sleeping while wearing one his shirts.

He placed a gentle kiss on your forehead before heading to the shower since he didn't want to go to bed smelling like "sweat and rubber" as what you like call it.

With his head casted downwards, he allowed the water to drip down his body, a pleasant feeling enveloping him at the feel of the hot water relieving his tense muscles. Bokuto then noticed his wedding ring which he forgot to take off before he entered the shower. Well, it's not like he wanted to take it off in the first place anyway.

As he stared at the ring in his hand, he couldn't stop the fond smile from making its way to his face. Several scenarios started playing in his mind but the one he always loved getting back to was the day he first met you.

-

"Cheer up Bokuto-san," Konoha said as he gave Bokuto a pat on the back.

The team have been trying to cheer Bokuto up for almost half an hour now. The white haired male was currently seated in between two narrow walls, his hair casted downwards and a pout playing on his lips.  "I don't wanna," he mumbled childishly before looking away.

"What happened?" Akaashi, who was still panting, asked as soon as he entered the gym.

Konoha crossed his arms over his chest, giving a quick glance at Bokuto before shifting his gaze to Akaashi. "He's been like that since we started the second set of the practice match. He said that he can't spike anymore unless its you who's going to toss for him," Konoha answered with a frustrated groan. "We did everything we can. The rest is up to you."

Akaashi nodded in understanding before making his way to their captain. "Bokuto-san, let's go. Something came up so I was late but I'm here now. I'll toss for you so can you cheer up now?"

As Bokuto was about to answer, a sudden yell echoed throughout the whole gymnasium.

"Cheer up Bokuto senpai! You're the best captain and ace so please don't give up! You can do it!"

It was a feminine voice. A feminine voice yet loud enough for everyone to hear.

Bokuto looked at the bleachers and immediately spotted your figure. He can't help but grin at your determined look, you had a big smile on your face and a poster in your hand despite the game not being an official match.

Everyone was in awe as they watched their captain stood up, a sudden boost of confidence enveloping him as he puffed out his chest. "Hey, hey, hey!" he exclaimed with a booming voice, his hand pointing towards your direction before he flashed an almost award winning smile.

That was the first time they witnessed their captain cheering up because of someone that wasn't Akaashi.

From that day on, Bokuto would always scan the crowd and look for you, and not once have you ever failed in showing up.

It wasn't long then when the two of you finally talked, thanks to Akaashi's efforts. It was actually Akaashi who first invited you personally to watch one of their official matches.

Bokuto couldn't do it because despite his personality, he would always feel his panic rising at thought of inviting you himself. So, the solution? Whine continuously to Akaashi until he gives up and do it for him. Fortunately, it worked.

Everything went smooth sailing after that.

But even if your relationship with each other progressed, you still remained as his number 1 fan. You would still make posters and give him gifts everytime they win. In exchange, Bokuto would always do his best and give you the biggest hug as soon as each matches finish.

A few years forward, Bokuto became an official player of the MSBY black jackals. You were the first person he celebrated it with and the person who encouraged him to continue playing in order to achieve his dreams.

You became his anchor and his strength, the person he would run to whenever he was doubting himself and everytime he needed someone to hold him.

It was then during their victory party against the Adlers when Bokuto finally realized that you were really the one for him. As he watched you dance and laugh with his teammates, he got the feeling that he shouldn't let you go anymore.

You were it for him.

-

"I was looking for you," you said with a pout as you balanced yourself on your boyfriend's arm, your vision hazy and voice slurry due to the alcohol in your system.

Bokuto tightened his hold on your waist, his eyes scanning over your drunk figure as you basically clung to him like a baby. "Sorry, baby. I had to go buy something real quick, couldn't stop myself."

"Mhmm," you hummed, obviously not getting anything from what he said. "Carry me, please... Wanna go home."

Without any objections, Bokuto leaned down to scoop you in his arms and then placed a kiss on the tip of your nose before carrying you all the way to the car.

When you woke up, the smell of pancakes was the first thing you noticed. You stood up and padded your way to the kitchen where you saw Bokuto cooking with his back turned against you.

One of your eyebrows shot up as you heard him grumbling something inaudible. Silently, you sneaked your way to him and suddenly wrapped your arms around him from the back.

Bokuto jumped up in surprise before turning around. He quickly covered your eyes as he said in a panic voice, "Baby! Don't look at the pancake yet, okay? Go take a seat. I'm still not done."

"Hmm, you seem suspicious but alright," you answered with his hand still covering your eyes. You pouted your lips and smiled when you felt him giving you a short kiss before guiding you to the table.

Once he was finished, you rose an eyebrow at the nervous look on his face while holding the plate filled with pancakes. "You okay, baby?" you asked in concern.

Your boyfriend only nodded before carefully placing the stack in front of you.

A small flower was neatly placed on the side but what caught your attention was the message written out of chocolate syrup on top of the pancake.

MARRY ME?

"Kou?" you whispered before taking your eyes off your breakfast.

What you saw next was enough to bring tears to your eyes.

Because as soon as you looked at him, Bokuto went on his knee and opened a small box, revealing an expensive ring that you'll soon be wearing. "I'm sorry if I only wrote marry me on the pancake. It wasn't big enough to write the whole 'will you marry me?' and that's why I'm here, down on my knee, to ask you directly."

Despite your tears, you can't help but giggle at the rhyming in his words. "You got that idea from Akaashi, didn't you?"

Bokuto pouted before mumbling a small "Dont interrupt me."

Seeing you nod, he continued, "Baby, we've been together for several years now and yet we're still here - going strong without any intent of separating any time soon. You were the first person who was able to cheer me up without Akaashi's help and the only person who caught my attention by shouting during one of our matches." He chuckled shortly before proceeding, "You've always been there to support me. You're my number one fan, my number one supporter and the best girlfriend I could ever ask for. I know that sometimes I'm not easy to deal with but still, I'm going to take my chance. To my number one fan, will you marry me?"

Bokuto stared at you in anticipation, a bead of sweat rolling down the side of his head as he waited patiently for your answer. The moment he heard you saying yes, he immediately felt as if he was the luckiest man in the world.

Slipping the ring on your finger, he stood up and pressed his forehead against yours. "Thank you, thank you, baby. Love you so much," he said repeatedly as he showered your face with kisses.

-

"Kou, are you done yet?"

Your voice brought him out from his daydreaming. Scanning the area around him, Bokuto chuckled as he realized that he was still inside the shower.

He then turned the water off and dried himself before wrapping a towel around his waist.

"I'm sorry, baby. I just remembered something important," he said as he walked over to you, placing a kiss on your forehead and murmuring a low apology for taking too long.

"Wanna tell me about it?" you asked in a sleepy voice as you both settled yourself on the bed.

Bokuto wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you closer, his hand slipping inside your shirt to rub circles on the small strip of skin on your spine knowing how much it helps you fall asleep faster.

"I'll tell you next time about it, okay? Go back to sleep." Bokuto watched as your eyelids fluttered close, your breathing soon evening out and your lips parting slightly to allow small amounts of air in.

"You already know about it anyway, my number one fan," he whispered as he soon also closed his eyes, letting the sound of your breathing lull him to sleep.

masterlist | updates

a/n: likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated ♥️

[paperstarwriters]

Mercury?

This is terribly written and I am so sorry for that. I barely edited this and it shows. I just wanted the Autobots to learn about Bohemian Rhapsody is that so bad?

——————————————————

It was a peaceful day. Megatron and his Decepticons were currently off of their radar for the time being, but that didn't mean that they could be lax. Peace never lasted long. For war torn veterans of war, peace was to be cherished, not squandered. For children who felt more entertained at being put at danger than they did afraid, peace was "Boring", and they sought to make that evidently clear to everyone in the room. 

Ah, correction. She.

Jack and Raf were sensible enough to be weary whenever the Deceptions reared their collective heads around. Miko however often acted as if she could fight Primus himself with nothing more than a screwdriver. Miko liked to brag that she'd do it with her bare hands. They hadn't believed her for a good while, until she tried to threaten Megatron during their weary truce. Ratchet argued that it still made him anxious every time he saw Miko run off somewhere, no matter how mundane, and most of the team was inclined to agree. Wheeljack was regarded as a different case entirely.

Now, Miko wasn't so cruel as to beg fate to send a Deception attack their way. She did, in her own way, appreciate peace. Just not the peace that they wanted. Because of this, Miko often brought the odd item to the base. Her guitar and sound system, a video game for the TV. Miko bringing in a new toy was almost expected whenever peace stretched on for longer than an hour. 

"Looooook what I got!!" Miko cheered slinging herself out of Bulkhead's seat, holding a large and clunky looking box with her. For all they knew, she could be holding a small bomb, but by Jack and Raf's unimpressed reactions it didn’t' seem to be anything too troubling.

"Geez, that thing looks ancient, where'd you get it from?" Jack asked, pressing on the buttons of the box tentatively. "Besides, we have the bots for that don't we? Or, well you guys do."

Miko scoffed rolling her eyes. "Oh come on Jack. It’s a boom box! It's a part of the aesthetic!!"

Bulkhead, who listened in more blatantly than the others, cast a weary glance to the 'boom box' in question. "Uh, Miko, you still haven't told me what that thing does…"

"It's like a radio, the kind you guys have, only bigger and clunkier." Raf explained. "Where did you get it?

At this Miko puffed up her chest proudly brandishing the box over her shoulder. "Ms. Fairfax was cleaning some stuff out, and guess who just so happened to be there after school to collect this beauty!"  

Jack rolled his eyes though he grinned while he did. "You were only there because you were in detention." 
 

Miko stuck out her tongue. "That doesn’t matter. What matters is that now, I've got this!"  

Hitting a button on the box Miko opened a compartment and retrieved a smaller box from within the boom box. This thing was flatter and telling by Jack's reaction, no more impressive than the boom box. At this point, however, Miko's chaos seemed to garner everyone's attention, and even Optimus who was busy at the base's main computers, leaned in a little to see what was going on.

"A cassette?" Raf asked, perhaps for the sake of their audience.

"Not just any cassette!"

Miko put the cassette back into the box, and hit another button. There was a weighty silence which should have been filled with Optimus' typing and Ratchet's tinkering, and whatever else anyone was pretending to do while they listened. And then a voice began to sing And then a song began to play


Raf and Jack spared a glance to one another, and grinned.

Since their enlistment in the team, the humans have given the bots a very in depth lesson on different types of music. Miko did most often, but Raf also introduced Ratchet to his 'study playlist', filled with classical earth music that Raf said helped him concentrate. Ratchet shrugged at the offer made a comment about 'limited earth technology', then proceeded to play the entire playlist on loop deep into the night, as he worked away with Optimus by his side. Jack offered his own tastes with Arcee and Bee, a playlist of some popular songs, or even some that he admitted were lesser known. There were some that had a very valiant theme, and when Bee and Arcee raced they'd sometimes use Jack's music to race to. Even agent Fowler gave his own few songs that he enjoyed, though the lyrics were rather off putting to most of the team.

One clear lesson that the bots took from it all was that music tastes varied, and what might be popular to one, was bizarre and unknown to another—even among humans. Jack and Raf knew popular local songs, but miko did not. Jack knew more 'pop' songs than Raf did, and Raf knew more classical music. Amidst the three it was long deemed impossible for them to all know a song without having to teach the others before hand.

And yet.

Miko started as soon as the music began to play, nearly yelling all the lyrics to the song, before Raf and Jack joined in enthusiastically. It was jarring, a rather slow paced song, treated with such fervor and excitement from the three. Ratchet groaned at the noise, returning to his work, but he did not ask them to stop. On the other hand (with the exception of Optimus who simply smiled as he continued to listen and to work), most of the team had given up on pretending and approached the three singers as an audience. The lyrics were filled with meaning that twisted the children's faces into a dramatic agony while the guitar picked up. Miko nailed the solo, on her air guitar her hands moving with less of her usual overdramatic flash, and with a flare as if she were holding the guitar, and had memorized every chord. Jack and Raf bashed at the air, a trick foreign to Bee and Arcee, but known as 'air drums' to the resident air drumming star, Bulkhead.

The song took a drastic switch from melodramatic, to a more playful piano melody, and a lot of nonsensical words that the children never sang at precisely the right moment. Many parts of the song sounded like a conversation, but they could never decide who was speaking first and who spoke second. And then, after a high note that Miko almost hit, it erupted into a rock style burst, and the kids had at it, with headbanging, careless air guitars and air drums. The energy was infectious, and those who had taken the front row seats, danced about with the others for what was a surprisingly short rock moment.

The song mellowed out all over again and the kids sang it out dutifully until the very end marked by a crash that Miko mimicked while Raf air played the instrument.

For such a bizarre mix of music from slow to fast to slow again, the bots caught themselves on various occasions humming and nodding their head to the song. On occasion, if the kids weren’t around with their own music, Bulkhead would play the song from his speakers. Sometimes Arcee would sing a line or two, and if Bee was around, all three of them would end up half muttering and half singing the song. Bee and Bulkhead usually tried to  sing with the same kind of fervor that the kids had. Sometimes even Ratchet complained that he had the song stuck in his head. It didn't stop him from tapping his pede whenever Bulkhead played it.

On one rare day with Optimus on curbside duty, he had the chance to see just how many humans knew the song. Miko was playing it loud on her boom box, and a small crowd of eagerly dramatic singers followed her and her music. Yet, that wasn’t all. Kids on the sidelines sang idly along, even as some worked away at homework. Optimus patiently waited for the song to finish, and when he did, he opened his door and let the kids in.

They told adamant tales about how the song could be sung with near perfection by a sea of people and how besides a country's national anthem, this was the rare song that everyone seemed to know. There were others of course, but that depended on the place, generation, and community. None apparently reached as far as Freddie Mercury's Rhapsody. Truly the final nail in the coffin was when Bulkhead was playing the song, the kids humming along, having long forgone singing every time it came on, and Agent Fowler walked in. He looked like he was about to bark about something, only to stop as he noted the song. Clearly, whatever it was was not so important if he could be so easily swayed. 
 

Optimus asked him about the song, and if he knew it, and Fowler took (what Optimus now understood was) mock offence and told Bulkhead to turn it up. Agent fowler sung the remaining song brilliantly, getting the kids to join in with him as well. Fowler even hit the high note which earned a pat on the back which may as well have been a shove from Miko.

From then on, Optimus put effort into learning the song.

He quickly understood that his deep voice would not be able to reach the high note, but he put in effort on the rest of the song, to the point that he knew the song by heart. He appreciated the lyrics, finding them both odd and  sympathetic at the same time, which he told Ratchet when he responded to his idle humming of the song with a muttered singing of all of the lyrics. Ratchet still stared at him oddly for it.

With Optimus followed Bulkhead, and Bee, and reluctantly, Arcee. Even more reluctantly so, Ratchet, who on another night of working away, asked Optimus for the lyrics to the song. He handed them over without question or comment, but Ratchet still avoided his gaze days later.

So, it was no wonder, that nearly a month later, after Miko had gained a collection of songs for her boom box, that when the song played again, the whole team broke out into song. Uneven, wonky song where they sometimes stumbled over who was singing what, but they sang it nonetheless, too caught up in the melody to notice that the kids had stopped to stare at them. They sung as they worked, nonchalantly for some and with playful vigour for others. When they did realize that they hadn't sung, the gong had already sounded.

"No way." Miko hissed, eyeing both Optimus and Ratchet. Optimus stood proud as ever, while in contrast Ratchet avoided eye contact.

And they played the song again, arguing that they wanted to sing with them. It was the most horrible and amazing experience they all shared together singing the song terribly whenever it came on. It was fun and silly, and planted firmly in everyone's processor to teach their friends the song as soon as they could.

The next day, Miko (by harassing Agent Fowler) hauled in a karaoke machine, and smiled.

[lilliagradiewrites]

say that you’re mine (harry styles)

Summary: You and Harry attend a Christmas party for the cast and crew of Don’t Worry Darling, and a guy gets a little too flirty for Harry’s liking.

WC: 1.9k

WARNINGS: drinking/alcohol, cursing, and jealousy i guess? not sure if that needs a warning, but it’s the main content of this piece. This has mentions of sexy time, but no actual smut.

A/N: Here we go!!! I have loved Harry for so long and have been wanting to write for him forever. I’ve written many things, but none of them turned out well enough for me to upload them. This one turned out pretty okay, so I hope you guys like it! I know this is different than my usual content, but if any harries happen across it, I hope they enjoy it. If you want, replace Harry with Rudy Pankow, and DWD with OBX Season 2 lol.

I love you all so much, and I hope you enjoy!!!

LET’S DO IT!!!

~~~~~~~~~~

The night started out strong. You looked good, you felt good. A few drinks had already been consumed before arriving at the event, and so you were already in the party mood. Harry, your boyfriend of over a year, looked gorgeous as always. Everything was perfect.

Until him.

Harry noticed the guy’s infatuation with you long before you did. You were out on the dance floor, looking amazing, having the time of your life. A smile was on your face as you moved your body to the music. You looked genuinely happy, and the sight made Harry even happier. He watched you intently, his eyes focused on nothing else but you.

Something began to feel off, however, and he quickly noticed that his eyes weren’t the only pair that were locked on your body.

Across the room, another man watched you with the same intensity as Harry, sipping his drink sensually. Harry didn’t like it. Not. At. All.

He had always been incredibly possessive over you, but especially when you looked like this. It was rare that you got super dressed up like this, and you looked incredible. Your makeup was done flawlessly, and your hair looked stunning. You were breathtaking.

And that dress. God, that dress.

It was a little black number that you had gotten a while ago, and you had been waiting patiently for months to have a reason to wear it. When Harry had told you about the cast Christmas party, you had mainly been excited to pull this dress from the back of your closet, where it had been collecting dust since you purchased it.

Harry had a love-hate relationship with the dress.

He loved it because you looked so fucking good in it.

He hated it because you looked so fucking good in it.

Of course he loved seeing you in it. He got to admire what was his, every curve on full display.

But, the issue was, that if he could see it, everyone else could, too.

Men had been ogling you all night, making his jaw clench and his hand form into fists, but none of them were like this guy.

The man was watching you with such intensity, Harry was surprised he hadn’t burned holes through your skin.

It took a lot of self control for Harry to keep from walking over and punching the absolute shit out of that guy.

When you eventually walked back over, Harry took the opportunity to show that man who you belonged to.

“Hey, lovie. Havin’ fun?” He asked as you approached him.

“Mhm, I-” Your words were cut off by your boyfriend grabbing your waist and pulling you in close, kissing you roughly.

You kissed back for a moment before pulling away, shock evident on your face.

“Woah.” You breathed. “What was that for? I mean I liked it, but…”

“Just showin’ you how that dancin’ you did made me feel.”

Your cheeks reddened immediately, and you dropped his gaze. Before you could look too far away forever, he was taking your chin into his hand, guiding your face to meet his.

“Don’ get all shy on me now, lovie. When you danced like tha’, wearin’ a dress like tha’, you lost the privilege.”

You giggled lightly, your cheeks growing even redder.

“Now, darlin’, I have to go talk to that guy,” He pointed across the room to a man in a fancy suit, “about shooting dates for next year. We can talk about this more when I come back, mm?”

All you could was nod. By your reaction to his words, he knew he had you wrapped around his finger. He gave you a wink that left you flustered as ever, and went on his way.

Now you stood alone, and didn’t exactly know what to do. You could go back out and dance until Harry was finished, but you felt as if your knees might collapse because of your previous encounter. Your only other option was to sit at the bar, and you were wanting another drink anyway. So, you found an empty seat and sat yourself in it, waiting for the bartender to come over to you.

Unbeknown to you, a man was headed your way, his eyes trained on the empty seat beside you.

Though you had no idea, Harry, across the room, was watching the guys’ every move. He had been keeping an eye on the man ever since he caught the guy watching you on the dance floor. As soon as he noticed the guy walking over to you, Harry’s jaw grew firm, and his fist clenched.

He willed himself to have self control, but also knew that if the guy laid a finger on you, he wouldn’t be able to keep his composure.

At the bar, the bartender had finally approached you, and you smiled politely as she greeted you.

“Hi, honey, what can I get for you?”

“An old-fashioned, please.”

“Alright, coming right up.”

You thanked the bartender as she turned around to begin making your drink. At this point, the stranger from the other side of the room had made his way over, and he slid into the seat beside you.

“Oh- hello.” You said, caught off guard by the sudden appearance of the man.

“Hey, how are you? I’m Jason.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N.”

The man nodded, a charming smile on his face. “Y/N.” He echoed. “That’s very pretty.”

“Thank you.” You politely replied. At this point, the bartender was walking up to you from behind the counter, your old-fashioned in her hand.

“One old-fashioned for you, honey. That’ll be 10.23.”

Jason, the man sitting beside you, reached quickly for his wallet. “Here, let me get that for you.”

“No, it’s okay.” You said immediately, knowing Harry wouldn’t like it if someone else bought you a drink. “I’m alright. Thank you though.”

“No, really, I-” Jason tried to insist, but you were already handing your card to the bartender.

Jason, who’s cheeks were now slightly pink, put his wallet back in his pocket.

“An old-fashioned, huh?” He said, very obviously as an attempt to make light conversation. “A classic. Not many people here like stuff like that, usually get the super fruity shit.”

Going along with it to be polite, you replied. “Yeah, I prefer simpler drinks. I don’t like anything too fancy.”

“I usually get a Manhattan, myself.” Jason says, motioning to the drink in his hand.

“I’ve never had one. They aren't terribly different from an old-fashioned, right?”

He shakes his head. “Yeah, they’re quite similar. If you finish that one, I’ll buy you a Manhattan so you can taste the difference for yourself.”

You shook your head. He clearly didn’t get the hint the first time. “That’s very sweet, but I’m alright. This will probably be my last drink for the night.”

“You sure? I’d really like to get one for you.”

“Yes, I’m sure. But thank you.”

Jason just nodded, not knowing what else to say.

From across the room, Harry was still having his conversation with the Assistant Director, but was barely focused on it. The only thing he could focus on was you and that guy, sitting and having a conversation at the bar. What was he saying to you? Why was he smiling like that? Why were YOU smiling? The whole thing frustrated him, and he couldn’t wait for this conversation to end so that he could go over there.

“So, what do you do on set? Are you in the cast?” You were still talking to Jason, not knowing what else to do as you waited for your boyfriend to return.

“I work in audio. Microphones, boom mics, and voiceover shit. I’m behind the scenes, so you probably haven’t seen me much. Are you in the cast?”

“Oh, no, I came with-”

“Me.” A familiar voice came over your shoulder, and you turned to find Harry behind you.

“Harry Styles, nice to meet you.” He was talking to Jason, but his hands slid around your waist. You could tell by the way that his brow was furrowed that he wasn’t too happy.

“Oh, shit. The Harry Styles? Nice to meet you, man.” It took Jason a second to realize that Harry was holding you, but once he did, it was obvious. His eyebrows raised, his eyes went wide. “Oh, Y/N, you came with him? Are the two of you dating?”

“Yes, we are.” Harry spoke for you. He turned his head in your direction so that he was speaking into your ear, but talked loud enough for Jason to hear. “I have someone I want you meet, love, so we should probably head over there.”

You nodded quickly. “Okay.” You stood up from your chair, giving Jason another polite smile. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Jason. Maybe I’ll see you around the set when I’m there visiting.”

Jason nodded and smiled. “Have a good night.”

You took your drink from the counter as Harry took your hand, dragging you away from the bar and toward the back corner of the room. It took you a second, but you eventually realized that he wasn’t leading you to meet anyone.

You were headed towards the bathrooms.

When you arrived at your destination, Harry pulled the door open as dragged you inside, closing and locking it after you were both in.

When he rounded on you, your cheeks went pink with nerves.

“You think that was funny, love? Flirtin’ with another guy at one of MY work events? You think that’s cute?”

All you could do was nod.

“Words, baby. I want an answer. Was flirtin’ with him funny to you?”

“Wasn’t flirting with him.” You squeaked out, the color in your cheeks even darker.

“You weren’t flirtin’ with him? Then why were you smilin’ like tha’?”

“I was just trying to be nice, Haz. You know, treat people with kindness?”

Harry’s eyes darkened immediately, and he grabbed your chin, yanking it upwards so that you’d meet his eyes.

“Don’ play tha’ game with me, lovie. Not tonight.”

His eyes flicked back and forth between yours, and you felt a warmth grow in your lower half.

“I saw the way he was lookin’ at you. He was watchin’ you all night. Was practically fuckin’ you with his eyes.” Harry's voice was menacing, and you were beginning to melt under his gaze. “I didn’t like tha’. Not. At. All.”

Harry took his free hand and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you abruptly into him you yelped at the sudden movement.

“You are mine, Y/N. Just mine.”

You nodded, but Harry wanted more.

“Say it. Say that you’re mine.”

“I-I’m yours, Harry. I’m all yours.”

“That’s righ’.” He said, releasing you from his grip. “Now here’s what’s gonna happen. I’m goin’ to say goodbye to Olivia and Florence and a few other people, and then we are going home so I can really show you who you belong to, alrigh’? Finish your drink, return the glass, and then come find me. Don’ you dare talk to that guy, alrigh’?”

You nodded for what felt like the millionth time that night, and Harry reached around you to unlock the door and open it.

As you walked out of the bathroom, you looked towards the bar. Jason was no longer sitting there, and you could see him anywhere near there. You headed straight over there, wanting to follow Harry’s instructions exactly.

As you walked, you couldn’t help but be excited for what would happen when you got home.

~~~~~ A/N: Alright, y’all: there it is! My first Harry fic! This is on the shorter side but I hope you guys still liked it. All notes and weblogs are super appreciated!

ALSO: SEND REQUESTS!! I write for:

- Harry Styles

- Outer Banks

- Harry Potter Universe

- Marvel Universe

-Timothee Chalamet

REQUEST THINGS, I would love to write for y'all!

Once again, I love you all so much!!!

[trashforhockeyguys]

Vienna Waits For You -1- William Nylander

A/N: The official start of Vienna Waits For You! I can’t wait for you guys to really get to understand William and Avalyn. This is probably the most unique story I’ve told so far. I hope y’all will enjoy the ride.

“Miss Bradshaw Kreitzburg, we can’t begin to explain how excited we are to have you here with us,” One of the Assistant Directors said as she was led into a posh hotel.

“Just Kreitzburg is fine, or Avalyn,” She cringed, hating it when people used the full name that her parents insisted on.

“There she is!” A loud voice boomed from the doorway of a very large conference room.

Avalyn couldn’t help but smile and nearly squeal as she ran to the man. Jackson Portland was one of the only people that she felt like really knew her. They’d been best friends since they first worked together in the early years. Back then, Jackson was an awkward lanky kid, not the bonafide sex god that he was now. Truthfully, Avalyn wanted to laugh every time girls literally threw themselves at him. To her he would always be Jacky, her best friend. 

“You made it!” She jumped in his arms, holding onto him for dear life. 

Jackson was like her life vest. She wasn’t sure she would’ve been able to do something like this without knowing he would be by her side the entire time. She trusted him with everything that she was. He’d been the one to call her about the role and tell her that she’d be perfect for it. 

“And so did you! God you look fantastic Avey. But you really could eat a little more. Do the Monsters have you on another diet?” 

“They wanted me to be on one,” She confirmed, “But none of them are here...soo I guess I’m not anymore?”

“Then you and I are going to burgers whenever this is over,” He declared, setting her down. 

She nodded excitedly. Going out with Jackson was always her favorite. Somehow they always found a way to just be normal twentysomethings. Jackson and Avalyn made each other feel almost normal for the first time in their lives. Seemed only fitting that the two of them didn’t want to let that go. 

“Have you scoped out our ‘advisors’?” Avalyn asked, holding onto Jackson’s arm. 

He shrugged, flashing his famous dimpled smile, “Oh you’ll love them.”

Inside the room, most of the younger Leafs were somewhat huddled together, keeping their distance until told to do otherwise. But some of the older, more experienced players were talking with some writers and producers from the project. 

Avalyn tried to calm her nerves, her grip on Jackson’s arm tightening with every step. She hated meetings like this. She didn’t know a single player on this team, hell she didn’t even know a thing about hockey. She knew that they probably all had their own preconceived opinions of her, none of which were good. Just like how nothing the media published these days was good. Good for press, but bad for her personal life. For once, she wished she could just pause it all. 

Some of her friends from childhood, which she lost contact with long ago, went to college and are in steady relationships. None of them have their entire life looked over with a magnifying glass. They could wear what they wanted, or eat what they wanted, go out with whoever they wanted wherever they wanted...Avalyn never had that luxury. But she couldn’t say she was jealous of them...envious might be a better term to use though. 

“Alright boys, listen up!” An older man in the team’s jacket called, “I want you to listen to what they instruct you. Remember, you’re representing the organization and Toronto.”

“Thank you for that Coach Babcock,” One of the show’s producers said before standing in front of everyone, “We’d like for all of you to pair up in a few minutes, but before we do that, why don’t all of you take a second and get to know each other. Get all of the awkwardness out of the way so we can all get to work? Gentleman, at each table is a dry erase board with a rink on it, I was told that’s what you all use in practice to show plays and things, feel free to do the same today. We’ll call you all when it’s time to come back together.”

Avalyn didn’t move for a moment, not as long as Jackson stayed where he was. But it wasn’t long before the producer was coming over with the other man, who seemed to be the coach of the hockey team. Behind them trailed several young men, which Avalyn could only assume were players. Jackson nearly jumped, seemingly excited about who was coming over to them. 

“Coach Babcock, these are the two I was telling you about,” Eric, the producer, looked proud of himself, “These two are the stars of our show, Jackson, Avalyn, I’d like for you to meet Mike Babcock, coach of the Toronto Maple Leafs, as well as three of his star players, Auston Matthews, Mitch Marner, and William Nylander.” 

“You don’t have to tell me who they are, Eric,” Jackson waved him off before extending a hand to the coach, “It’s an honor to meet all of you. You guys had a hell of a season last year.”

“Jackson grew up in Connecticut prior to becoming an actor, he’s one of the only cast members with hockey experience.” 

“Sick man, I love that movie you were in last summer with Taylor Kitsch. Shit was badass,” The one with dark hair and blue eyes said.

Avalyn couldn’t remember who was who. All she knew was one had long blond hair, and two with dark hair. She used to joke that all hockey players looked the same when Jackson would try to make her watch games, but she couldn’t say that anymore. No two players in the room looked alike. 

“See, I told you Avey!” Jackson joked, “She said there was too much blood. I tried to get her to watch American Assassin with me, since O’Brien and Kitsch are such great guys, but she wouldn’t.”

Avalyn felt uncomfortable in her own skin. She hated moments like this. Jackson always seemed to be in his element and on his game. But Avalyn wasn’t comfortable with these people. She didn’t watch hockey, all she really knew was that they constantly hit each other and fought over the tiny rubber puck. 

But Jackson just seemed to fit right in with them. Almost like he was a member of the team and had been for a very long time. She was jealous of the fact that he always seemed to make it work. He was never a stranger. Whereas Avalyn always felt like a stranger. She often felt like she was playing dress-up all the time, and eventually someone would call her out on it. 

“Thanks for making fun of me again,” Avalyn said under her breath, “It’s nice to meet you guys.”

“So, what are you? The token romantic interest?” The blond quipped. 

“Willy-”

“No I uh-” She couldn’t really find her voice. She should’ve been used to people assuming she was only there to further the story. She was just pretty face, meant to smile and just be pretty. 

Maybe that was part of the reason she took this role...she wanted to prove she was more than that. Yet, she couldn’t even find a way to tell the man standing in front of her the very same thing that she was fighting to prove. 

“Actually, Avey is playing the only girl on the team. She’s pretty important actually,” Jackson cut in, “Pretty badass too.”

“Avalyn, we’d like you to pair with Willy, if the rest of you want to come over with me we’ll get you all sorted,” Eric suddenly interrupted, “You two can go over to that table over there.”

Suddenly, she was left with the blond that obviously didn’t exactly like her. Avalyn wasn’t uncustomed to it. A lot of people were standoffish with her at first, the sugary sweet persona she put on was enough to make anyone hate her. She knew that. But she wasn’t used to people being like this to her face. So blatantly obvious….he didn’t even bother trying to hide it. 

The blond, William, rolled his eyes before walking over to the table. Avalyn knew this wouldn’t be a very fun time. Jackson and the rest of the cast and crew would probably spend the whole session laughing. Yet, she was pretty sure William wouldn’t be overly helpful or talkative. 

She glanced around, hoping someone might come to her rescue, but everyone else was already paired off and talking to their respective hockey player. Jackson was already laughing with one of the dark haired boys, and a very large red headed man. Avalyn wished she could be like that. 

“Are you coming or not?” The blond grumbled. 

Avalyn took a deep breath and followed him to the table. He sat with his arms crossed. She wondered why he already seemed to hate her. Had he read something about her and decided she was a horrible human being? One of those cheap tabloids who made their living off of dragging her through the mud? 

“I’m Avalyn,” She said, trying to break the tension, but her voice still shook. 

He scoffed, “Yeah, I know.”

She nodded and reached for the glass of water. Couldn’t she have anyone else? Or just have someone else at the table? Why did they have to take Jackson and put him all the way across the room. She felt like she didn’t know how to do this without him. She was out of her comfort zone now. 

“Okay,” She said quickly, “You obviously don’t like me, but I don’t really care. I have a job to do, and so do you. So can we just please drop the shit and you actually tell me what I’m supposed to know?”

“Who said I didn’t like you?” He fired back, leaning forward. 

She let out an almost bitter laugh, “Oh, I got the message loud and clear. You have no reason to hate me, but you do. You know nothing about me, so next time maybe try to get to know the person before you form an opinion.”

It was his turn to laugh as he leaned over the table, getting closer. His eyes seemed to almost burn into her. For a moment she was afraid. She didn’t know this man, she didn’t know what he might do. But every bone in her body seemed to yell at her to run. Maybe everyone was right, maybe this was the worst choice she made. 

“I know enough,” His voice was low, but the power of it made her want to shiver, “America’s princess on the outside, and a fucking bitch on the inside.”

He leaned back in his chair once more. There would be no more talking. It was like Avalyn and William were on different sides of a battlefield. They both had the next attack just waiting, and neither would wave the white flag. Avalyn didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing what his words did. Each one was like a knife going deeper and deeper into her chest. 

William just didn’t want to give in. He was being stubborn, and he was sure all of the guys would say he was an ass. But he heard enough about little miss Avalyn Bradshaw Kreitzburg. He wanted nothing to do with her. Everyone that he knew that knew her all said she was really a bitch, that the sweet little innocent thing she had going was an act. That Jackson Portland acted as her guard dog in public because she couldn’t rip people to shreds for fear of losing her perfect little reputation. 

So William sat across from her, a smirk playing on his lips when she finally seemed to be at a loss. So, the two sat silently as the hours ticked on. No one seemed to notice that they weren’t talking, or that William wasn’t using the dry erase board like the rest of his teammates. By the end, no one seemed to notice that they didn’t move a single inch over the course of the entire session. 

“I’m not what you think,” Avalyn said quietly, “Whoever told you whatever ridiculous rumor, it’s not true.”

He smirked again, like he knew something that she didn’t, “I think Margret Vicklyr knows you enough to know the truth.”

Before she could even process the sickening feeling, he was gone. He couldn’t know Margret. Margot might hate her now, but surely she wouldn’t go as far as telling random people whatever she felt like it. After a couple of years, Avalyn hoped that Margret would just forget about whatever she was convinced that Avalyn did. But it seemed that she wasn’t forgetting...and now it didn’t seem like William would forget either. 

Avalyn struggled to get in a deep breath as everyone started to get up and leave. William looked too pleased with himself as he got up from his chair and started moving towards his group. 

William liked the feeling of having knocked Hollywood's princess back down to size, or at least that’s what he thought he did. He had no way of knowing what was really going on behind the glitz and the glamour. He had no way of knowing that she was struggling more than she could ever let on. 

William didn’t like Avalyn Bradsaw Kreitzburg, especially after what Margret told him during her summer in Sweden. The person that Margret described to him was horrible, incapable of caring for anyone but herself, and maybe her precious Jackson Portland.Yet, he couldn’t help but feel a sort of pain in his chest at the way she seemed to sink as soon as he landed his final blow. He knew his mother would’ve had his head if she saw him acting like that. But for some reason he couldn’t help it. 

How was he supposed to know that she was doing everything she could to keep her head above water and make this project work?

“Avey! C’mon, let’s go get dinner,” Jackson cheered, surrounded by the hockey players. 

Avalyn shied away from all of them, “I think I’m just going to go back to mine. Raincheck?”

“I’ll hold you to it!” Jackson cheered, following the team and some other cast members out of the hotel. 

As soon as she got back to her apartment, Avalyn tried her best to fill herself with music. All she kept thinking about was the way that he looked at her. The disgust...he made his mind up about her before he even met her, all because of Margo and whatever she came up with. All Avalyn wanted was to make this work, to prove that she was capable of choosing her own projects and that she was more than just the stupid doe eyed girl. 

But she still felt hollow, like she was already losing control. She still didn’t know anything about the game. Her ‘advisor’ wouldn’t be of any help. She would have to fight an uphill battle. But she wanted this more than she wanted any project before now. 

With music at full blast in her ears, Avalyn laid down, trying to drown herself in the sound of old classic rock and indie. She never did eat dinner like she promised. Instead, hoping the music would fill her in a way that food didn’t.

[confetti-cupcake]

👀

Ahhh thank you so much for the ask! ❤️

This snippet is from my upcoming Are You The One? AU called The Perfect Match, the completion of which will be my first fic goal of 2022. For some background, Are You The One? is an MTV reality dating show where they invite a bunch of young, hot, single people to a mansion and have them take a bunch of compatibility tests before arriving. Based on the results of the compatibility tests, each single is assigned a secret "perfect match" of somebody else on the cast. The pairings would typically be M/F, but the most recent season of the show was made exclusively up of people who identified as either bi or pan, so their perfect matches could be anybody on the cast, and this is the format I'm using for the fic. The cast competes in challenges and get to know each other over the course of the season, and they're periodically told how many matches they have correct. If they can all correctly figure out their perfect matches by the end of the game, they collectively win $1 million. But if they can't, they leave with nothing. The game is essentially one big logic puzzle, so I'm writing it in such a way where readers can play along and try to figure out the perfect matches in addition to following along with Buck and Eddie's burgeoning love story!

This snippet is from the first night of the game. The show's thrown a big MTV-style rager for the cast to help them mingle, and our beloved Eddie is painfully out of his element 😂

Eddie liked to think he was a pretty self-assured man. Or should be, rather. Star athlete in high school, Silver Star recipient, father of the best kid ever. And not to toot his own horn, but there had never been any shortage of women willing to show romantic interest in him, even when he was married. And now that he had finally come around to embracing this long-repressed part of his sexuality, he was finding the same was true of men. But all it took was five minutes of this party for his confidence to be shattered and send one thought reverberating through his head:

I am way too old for this.

Okay, maybe this wasn’t true in the literal sense. He was a couple of weeks away from turning thirty-one, still squarely in his prime. A quick scan of his newfound housemates told him most of them were mid-twenties, but there were a few who could be his age or older.

He wanted to talk and mingle with all the stunningly attractive people, he really did. But Eddie had always taken a more traditional approach to dating. He liked the slow burn of going on dates and getting to know someone, and not jumping right into sex right away. For him, the emotional connection almost always preceded the physical one. But it was becoming increasingly clear that that wasn’t everyone else’s speed.

Between the sloppy dancing and the gratuitous binge-drinking, he had already seen three couples making out, and it was barely two hours in. He had even seen the door to the Boom Boom Room — the name of which sent disgusted shivers down Eddie’s spine upon learning it — slam shut, presumably to christen it for the season.

He knew he needed to put himself out there. Winning the cash prize at the end of this experience depended on it. But he just didn’t know how.

He stood uncomfortably behind the kitchen counters on the outskirts of the dance floor, contemplating his next move, when somebody shoved a full glass into his hand.

Lena stared at him expectantly until he raised his eyebrows in question. “Vodka soda," she called over the pounding bass. "My special mix.”

Eddie took a sip and tried to resist the urge to spit it back up. Nope, that definitely wasn’t a vodka soda. More like straight rubbing alcohol with a hint of lime. The show was somehow able to rent out a mansion in Hawaii for over a month, but couldn’t splurge on anything top shelf? His face instinctively screwed up in disgust, and he hoped it wouldn’t offend Lena, but that ship had probably sailed. “Did you put any mixer in this?”

“What do you think’s special about it?” Lena replied, with a casual shrug.

Eddie set the glass down on the counter. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

She rolled her eyes. “Come on. You need something to help you loosen up. Not gonna lie, you standing here all alone is bumming me out a little.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“I think a nun watching porn would look more comfortable than you do right now.” She glanced over at the dance floor. “I mean, I like people-watching as much as the next guy, but this is just sad.”

Eddie smirked. “Guess I’ll just keep all the gossip to myself, then.”

“Fine. I take it back, you’re not sad. Twist my arm, why don’tcha?” Lena rolled her eyes. “Spill.”

Tagging @halsteadsass because she wanted updates on this particular one ❤️

Send me a 👀 and I'll post a snippet from a WIP!

[kaitoujokerscans]

The Night the Silver Cape is Set Ablaze CH1

Notice!

"Tonight, I'll come to take the 'Crimson Crystal' from Mister Kaneari's possession! Phantom Thief Joker"

<1> The Usual Battles

A plump full moon was shining that night. A man's cry rang through the banquet room of the striking mansion seated right in the middle of the city.

"JOKER, YOU'RE SO UNDER ARREST!"

The voice belonged to Oniyama Dokusaburou, member of the international Anti-Phantom Thief Coalition and chief of Japan's Metropolitan Police Anti-Phantom Thief division. Next to him were his subordinates Ginko and Momo, similarly bristling in their police uniforms. Long-haired, short-and-stout Oniyama, lanky and bespectacled Ginko, and the petite blonde Momo looked as different from each other as could be, but their eyes were all fixed on the same thing. Standing in the direction they were glaring toward was a boy in a red suit. His translucent silver hair grew in pointy spikes, and his blue eyes gleamed with pools of light. Perfect teeth sparkled in his huge mouth, which was curved into a beaming smile. A golden badge in the shape of the letter J shone on his chest.

This was the man himself — Phantom Thief Joker!

"Ha ha ha. As promised, I've taken the 'Crimson Crystal'!"

Joker held a red gem in his hand. Another man shouted, resentfully eying the crystal. "KEEEH! Return my treasure, indeed!"

His big rectangular face was framed by rectangular glasses, and his big mouth was contorted as he glowered at Joker. He was master of the mansion, Mister Kaneari. He was also the owner of the 'Crimson Crystal' which Joker had just stolen.

"Sorry, Kaneari, but I'm taking this with me!" Joker twirled his purple cape.

"Not if I can help it! GET HIM!" Oniyama bellowed, at which the officers waiting for orders behind Ginko and Momo fell upon him.

"Whoa, here comes trouble♪" Joker gave a nonchalant smile before snapping his fingers. Just as he did, a peeling sound came from under Oniyama's sprinting feet.

"Hmm, what was that?"

Then suddenly, the carpet on the floor sprang up in front of Oniyama's eyes and tossed him into the air.

"Waaagh! What's going on here!?"

Once Oniyama landed, the carpet rolled him up like he was a sushi wrap.

"Uwaaaaaah!"

The supersized sushi wrap rolled up Kaneari and all of the officers in the room as it whirled towards the center of the banquet hall.

"There we go♪" Joker, in the very same center, said as he jumped over it. The carpet had been rolled up from all four edges and was now a giant ball stuffed with the officers and Kaneari. Oniyama and the rest of them, their heads sticking out of the ball, all yelled at him at once.

"Joker, you rascal, what did you do!?"

"I set it up from the start so that it'd shrink, by making a carpet out of Image Gum!"

The Image Gum that Joker mentioned is a phantom thief tool. A mental image is transferred into the gum being chewed, which then takes the form of anything one can imagine. There are no limits to the shapes it can take, and it can be used to create large things like a banquet room carpet or for wrapping oneself in a disguise.

"So you set up a trick!"

"Get us out of thiiis!"

Ginko and Momo, their heads squirming out from the gum, glared at Joker up above.

Joker grabbed hold of a large balloon and floated upwards. This is also one of his phantom thief tools, Balloon Gum. By blowing it just like chewing gum, the gum’s ingredients chemically react to form a gas lighter than air which is trapped inside the balloon. If held above one's head, it can lift up the weight of about one person.

"Ha ha ha! Well then, everyone, au revoir!" Joker threw a card up at the ceiling, where it exploded and opened a gaping hole. He was about to fly into the night sky, when— A large silhouette jumped in through the hole and popped Joker's Balloon Gum.

"What!?" Joker pivoted around and jumped down. As he did, the silhouette alighted in front of him. "Shadow!?"

The boy was the spitting image of Joker. He wore a purple suit and black cape. Like Joker, his cyan hair was growing in pointy spikes. However, his golden eyes had a colder glint in them.

The boy called Shadow glared sharply at Joker. "Hu hu hu, you're not getting away with the treasure so easily. I'll always be chasing after you!"

"Heh, it's a bit late for you to show up. You're always getting in my way every single time."

"Getting in your way is my purpose in life!"

"Your sights are set way too low!"

"Shut up!" Shadow pointed the umbrella he was holding at Joker. Energy focused at the tip and shone in a circle of light. "Bloody Rain!" At Shadow's yell, a beam fired from the umbrella tip.

"Ghh!" Joker threw himself in a hurry to dodge. The beam grazed Joker's cape and hit the wall. BOOM! It exploded, leaving a yawning hole in the wall.

"AAH! My house!" Kaneari cried from the gum.

—Just then, the sound of tremors came from somewhere within the house.

"W-What's that?"

"What's this sound...?"

Joker and Shadow looked all around, when Kaneari gave a smirk. "Oh yes, indeed. I have my beloved wife here with me!"

"Wife?"

"Now do come, indeed! My darling honey, Sacchan!"

Immediately, the chandelier swayed, and then a huge door flew open with a bang right off the hinges. The door crashed like a shot into the wall and splintered into pieces.

"HRMMMMMMUUUUUUUUH!" In came a bestial roar, along with a massively beefed-up, over-two-meter tall person. "Person" because their gender could not be immediately determined, but one could conjecture that she was probably female because of the lock of braided hair hanging from her head.

The woman entered the room with heavy, thudding footsteps and took a look around. "Ruffians have broken in, have they?" her throaty voice boomed. In contrast to her fearsome figure, the eyes she turned toward Kaneari were filled with gentle light.

"Yes indeed, Sacchan! That right there is Phantom Thief Joker!"

"Joker!?" The woman Kaneari called "Sacchan" spun around and glared at Joker. She was staring daggers at him. She was like a jungle tiger that had just spotted its prey.

"Eek..." Joker and Shadow instinctively cowered.

"Phantom Thief Joker, you have some nerve to sneak into our nest of love. And to steal treasure at that — a heinous crime! I will punish you!" No sooner than she had spoken, the woman swung down her gargantuan fist down.

"...!" Joker and Shadow threw themselves out of the way before the fist plummeted into the floor with a BAMMM! which made the whole house shake.

"She's too powerful..." Joker was recoiling, and for good reason too.

Sacchan, or Commando Satsuko, was a combat expert who had undergone special training in the world's strictest army. She could run faster than a cheetah, bite down harder than a hippo, and was mightier than an elephant. She knew survival techniques for every situation, even how to cook and eat a savage crocodile. A strange turn of events had led to her marrying Kaneari, but her combat capabilities had not declined at all.

"What IS she...!?" This was Shadow's first time seeing Satsuko, and he was stunned still by her appearance. Joker didn't miss this chance.

"Okay!" Joker seemed to have thought of something, as he took out cards and held them up facing Satsuko. "Straight Flash!"

The fanned-out Ace, Deuce, Trey, Cater, and Cinque of Hearts cards shone. Blinding his opponent with their glaring light was Joker's trademark move.

"Ghh...!" The brilliance made Satsuko close her eyes for a moment. Yet when she opened them again, she saw something unbelievable.

"Just what is the meaning of this...?"

Strangely enough, there were two Jokers. Both of them were in red suits, and they were completely indistinguishable. Inside one of them was probably Shadow, disguised in Image Gum.

One of the Jokers grappled the other. "You! What the hell is this!?"

"The hell are you saying!? You did this, didn't you!"

The two of them grabbed at each other's lapels and squabbled. They looked like mirror images; seeing the pair with the same appearance and same face feuding with each other was somehow bizarre.

Satsuko watched them, not quite sure what to do, before she came to her senses. "E-Enough of the games, Jokers!" Satsuko fell upon them, trying to seize both of them at once.

Yet both of them were phantom thieves with equally impressive physical aptitude. Joker, as well as Shadow in the guise of Joker, nimbly bounced around to dodge. Even Satsuko was bewildered. Two people who looked exactly the same were jumping all over the place, so it was very disorienting. It was like she was fighting a ninja who had used a cloning art.

"Stop flitting about so much...!"

If she tried to seize just one of them, she would be distracted and the other one would get away, meaning there was a chance that she wouldn't get the real Joker. To prevent that from happening, she had to catch both of them at once no matter what, or so Satsuko thought.

If only I could tell which one was the real Joker...

Satsuko observed the two more closely and then noticed something. Something she had seen for a moment previously was now gone. Bloody Rain, the umbrella that only Shadow possessed. When Joker disguised Shadow, he had probably taken and hidden it. If Joker were to hide an umbrella he had stolen abruptly...

Satsuko cast her gaze around and spotted the black umbrella stuck in the chandelier. "There!"

True to form, Joker. Not only is he quick on his feet, he also makes good judgement calls... Satsuko stomped her foot on the ground with a thud, shaking the ground and making Bloody Rain fall from the chandelier.

"...!" The two Jokers took a quick glance at the umbrella. Written on one of their faces was: "Why was my umbrella there?", while the other's expression read: "Oh shoot, she figured it out!"

"There you are, Joker!" Satsuko ran up to the Joker who had "my plan's been exposed" written on his face and grasped him whole in her hand. "I've got you now, Phantom Thief Joker!"

"Guhh, oh shoot...!" Joker couldn't move, and his face contorted with pain.

"I've got him!" said Satsuko as she turned back around to Kaneari.

"Well done, indeed!" rejoiced Kaneari from the gum. "Now, return my Crimson Crystal!"

"...ha... it."

"Hm? What was that? I can't hear you, indeed!"

Then Joker raised his chin, looked at Satsuko, and grinned. "I don't have it."

"Huh?"

"What?"

"I said I don't have it. I don't, anyway."

"You don't? Then that means..." Satsuko looked up in realization, only to hear laughter from somewhere.

"Hu hu, is this what you're looking for?" She saw the other Joker standing at a distance. There seemed to be a colder glint in his eyes than usual.

Then that Joker's body puffed up and burst apart with a pop! Shadow, clad in his purple suit, appeared from within. In one of Shadow's hands was Bloody Rain, and in the other he was holding the Crimson Crystal.

"That's my Crimson Crystal, indeed!"

"Yeah, that's right. It's your treasure, the genuine article!"

"Why! Why do you have it!?"

Then Joker wriggled out of Satsuko's grasp and landed on the floor with a click. "Phew, that's some grip."

"Answer me, Joker! Why did you hand over the treasure?"

"Easy," Joker responded nonchalantly. "What Shadow wants most is to fight me. The treasure's secondary. So I promised to fight him at a later date if he'd just hold onto the treasure for me for a while."

"Hmph..." Shadow was averting his gaze, but that was enough proof to see that Joker was telling the truth.

"But willingly giving one's prized object to an enemy during combat is inconceivable. He could have run off with it."

"Ha ha, you don't get it. Shadow wouldn't do that."

"Tch..." Shadow scoffed.

"Regrettably, fighting me means more to Shadow than anything else. He wouldn't try to beat me through unfair methods like that."

"Hmph, course not," Shadow muttered after Joker spoke.

Then Satsuko chuckled and said, "I see, so he's not an enemy, but rather, a rival..."

"Well, guess you could say that!" Joker inflated his Balloon Gum and began to float toward the hole in the ceiling. "Shadow, gimme the treasure!"

"A week from now! Don't forget your promise to duel me!"

Shadow tossed the treasure up to Joker. Once he had securely caught the Crimson Crystal, Joker shouted down below. "All right, Kaneari, I've taken the treasure! Inspector Oniyama, Shadow, see you later!"

"You had so better wait, Joker!"

Taking one last backwards glance at Kaneari and Satsuko grimacing, Oniyama shouting, and Shadow tsking, Joker flew into the sky. His airship, the Sky Joker, floated in the night sky above him.

Just then, a panicked voice came from the communicator on Joker's wrist. "Joker-san!" It was the voice of Joker's assistant, Hachi.

"Oh, Hachi. What's up?"

"Terrible news!"

"Ah, sorry. If it's about the pudding that you were hiding in the fridge, I ate it this morning."

"You did!? ...Wait, that's not the problem! An advance notice has been delivered here, and it's addressed to you!"

"An advance notice?" Joker looked at the device with a puzzled expression.

[tainted-wine]

Tuning In Tonight

Present Mic x Reader (NSFW)

(A 10k story because I have no self-control. Here’s a fic about a troubled cafe employee that turns into a Mic fan and later SEX)  

You soaked in the heat of your apartment after enduring the chilly walk back home from work. Wasting no time, you tossed your coat aside and kicked off your shoes before plopping onto the bed. Another week, another paycheck. Today was exceptionally busy at the cafe. Fridays always were, really, but today had put you to the test against quite the cast of characters. But even in the face of screaming kids with careless mothers, business people with absolutely no patience, and teens that didn’t think you were worth making eye contact with, you prevailed. You liked your job, even with the odd rough days. The staff was kind, the pay was fair, and the fact that it was smack-dab in the middle of the city means that it was visited by the occasional hero. Those were the days that filled you with joy, taking you back to the times when you dreamed of having the same career. But some things just weren’t meant to be. Your younger, more passionate self would chide you for accepting this life. For not using every breath in your body to ensure that you would one day become a hero that everyone remembered, but such persistence would only hurt you more in the long run. At least you were still able to find a comfortable living elsewhere. You settled with the cards you were dealt just fine, and yet that’s exactly what bothers you. Is it really okay to just give up and settle this after trying so hard? 'Nope, my mind’s not going anywhere near that rabbit hole today.' You sprang back up, heading to your room with extra pep in your step to undress and prepare a shower. The hot water soothed your tense body and cleared your mess of a mind. There was no room for any negative thoughts on a Friday night, the nights that you always look forward to the most, because it was time for the weekly radio show hosted by the lively pro hero Present Mic.

Your first experience with the show happened months ago, during a day where you were feeling extra exhausted for no particular reason. Turning on your old radio to lift your spirits, you happened to tune in just in time for the voice hero’s live caller segment. ‘Why not?’ you thought to yourself as you dialed the station's number and patiently listened to the rings. “Hey, thanks for calling, my dear listener! Hope you’ve been having a rockin’ day today!” There was something about having such an energetic and carefree voice directed to you that just brightened you up from inside. The conversation didn’t last very long, your sudden shyness being part of the reason why. It ended with you honoring the usual routine of requesting a song before disconnecting. As short as the encounter was, it left a strong impression, and you wanted it to happen again. Just like that, you became a loyal fan of Put Your Hands Up! radio. It was a great way to end work for the week, winding down and getting ready for the weekend as the station played a wide variety of tunes. And every time Mic was ready to take calls, your phone was ready to dial. You talked about whatever came to mind—how work was treating you, discussing his latest accomplishments as a pro hero, sharing silly events the two of you had in life. Whatever you discussed, no matter how mundane the topic, Mic always sounded eager to listen and respond with the boisterous voice he was known for. Even on the nights where you felt especially drained or under the weather, his unwavering enthusiasm never failed to clear the dark clouds over your head. In short, he was a lovable guy. So you relaxed and killed some time with the help of the internet and some phone games until that special hour arrived. You turned to the station and was greeted with the loud intro that took some getting used to. “Yeeeaaaahh! Present Mic here, and thank you for tuning in to Put Your Hands Up! Are they up? Because we’re about to get started!” And so begins the music that you swear is just a playlist of the hero’s personal favorites. You laid back on your bed and let your mind drift as the songs played. Your friends plan on meeting up for a movie tomorrow; can’t miss out on that. Maybe you’ll stop by the store afterwards so you can restock your fridge. What should you do Sunday? Meh, just make it a lazy day and hang around at home, you suppose. You returned to your phone and continued scrolling through your favorite websites. Time went by quicker than expected, Mic’s announcement of taking calls catching you by surprise. The first few calls were picked up by other listeners, doing the usual routine of sharing their day or talking about recent issues. Mic gave advice wherever he could, and his desire to help anyone who was willing to reach out to him felt so damn genuine that it made you smile. Another call was picked up before yours. Oh well. You listened to what ended up being a youthful male on the line. “H-hi, Mr. Present Mic!” The nervous yet excited voice was pretty heartwarming. A young teen, most likely.

Mic laughed. “No need for the ‘mister,’ listener! You’ll make me feel old!”

A bunch of frantic stuttering could be heard from the boy. “Ah, so sorry, sir—I mean mister—I mean Mic!” You giggled along with Mic as the poor boy tried to collect himself. “Deep breaths, little listener. What’s on that speedy little mind tonight?” “Well,” the boy had finally steadied himself. “I’ll be finishing middle school soon, and I’m ready to start training to be a hero. I just really hope I can get into U.A. and meet you! I wish you could be my English teacher!”

Awww. “Shucks, little guy. First, good job on finishing up middle school. I hope your parents have a rockin’ party ready for you! Second, you’ve got guts for aiming for the highest! Make sure you study and prepare, 'cause U.A. only accepts the best!” There was a pause on the other end. “So, is there a chance that I won’t make it?" “My little listener,” you could tell that there was a gentle expression on Mic’s face as he spoke. “There’s always a chance, so I want you to promise me one thing. If that chance hits you, don’t give up on your dream. Get the most out of whichever school accepts you. You know how many amazing heroes I met who came from schools with pretty lame reputations? There’s a lot of them, trust me. I’ve also met my share of cocky young heroes who rag on others just because they don’t have the fancy brand of U.A. or Shiketsu on their resume. That’s all it is, kid. A brand. Just because you couldn’t strike a deal with a major record label doesn’t mean your music career is already dead.” “Music?” the boy said in confusion. “But I’m not talking about mu—oh…metaphor.” Mic chuckled lightly. “There ya go, listener! Your language is doin’ fine. You don’t need me! But if you think you do, you know where to call me for another chat!” “I do!” the boy said happily. “Thank you, Present Mic! I promise I’ll keep doing my best!” You listened to the two talk for a little longer. The boy had some real determination and you admired it. He’ll hopefully reach his dream. You won’t wish ill will on others just because you didn’t reach yours. Giving everything you had and still not being enough was something no one deserved to experience. The boy had requested a rather angsty rock song that was trying really hard to sour your mood, but you’re not going to give the depressing vocalist what he wants. On the next segment, you internally rejoiced when you hear Mic’s voice in your ear. “Hey there, Mic.” “Oh? Is that my favorite lady listener I hear?” You giggled at the flattering question? “Maybe? I didn’t know you had favorites.” “Ah, you’re right! Not very professional of me! Don’t worry, listeners! I swear I love you all equally!” He boomed. It’s moments like this that taught you to keep your phone a fair distance away from your ear when you speak to the great voice hero himself. “So how’s the cafe treating you?” After so many talks, Mic had learned a few personal details about you, including your job and the area you worked in. He’s commented on how humble your life sounds; you didn’t disagree. “It’s been the same. Nothing new.” Your plan was to share one of your experiences with the more unruly customers today, but something else was weighing on your mind now. “Come on, girl. You’ve gotta have something spicy to share with us, don’t ya?” “Actually,” the last call was really sticking to you for some reason, you couldn’t help but let it slip out. “I want to say that what you told that boy was very sweet. And I was wondering…” Your voice caught in your throat. “I was wondering…” ‘Is it okay to give up?’ You didn’t want to say that. ‘What if you sacrifice everything you have, but still fail?’ You don’t tune in to be a downer. ‘Did you know that I was like that boy once?’ You talk to Present Mic to feel good. “Wondering what? You still with me, listener?” Mic asked. The concern in his voice urged you to spit something out already. “I was wondering exactly which pro heroes you knew personally. You said that you’ve met a lot,” you lied. You weren’t wondering that at all. Still, you won’t mind hearing his answer. “Ha! Where do I even start? Now’s the perfect time for some free promotion for the awesome heroes out there that deserve some sweet limelight! Let me start with a cool guy named Koi. He’s pretty new to the scene and works on the coast.” He went on and on about many lesser known heroes you weren’t familiar with at all, but that made the information all the more intriguing. He spoke highly of each person, listing their accomplishments and how hard they worked to get where they are. As always, he managed to perk you back up. You made a mental note to look up these heroes later. “Whoa whoa, record scratch, guys! The lady’s got me rambling for way too long. Trying to soak up all the time, are ya?” He sneered in the most light-hearted way. You laughed innocently. “Of course not! You were being so passionate about every hero that you mentioned, I didn’t have it in me to stop you.” “Well, I’ll forgive you just this once! You know how to end it. Hit me with that request!” The rest of the broadcast carried on through the night as a drowsiness began to creep on you. You listened to the last of the songs while getting cozy under your sheets. “Time to finally put those hands down! It’s been a blast, listeners! I hope you’re ready to rock with me next time! Good night!” You switched off the radio and finally allowed yourself to drift off. ‘Good night.’ ——— The weekend had flown by. Before you knew it, it was back to business at the cafe. You were always thankful for not being part of the morning shift on Mondays, your co-workers sharing horror stories of the tired and moody zombies demanding complicated orders as quickly as possible. Your shift started at noon. The day was going by smoothly, no wrenches thrown into your usual pattern. Small talk with the customers, impressing the regulars by guessing their orders correctly, practicing your latte art, it was a meditative cycle for you. By the time the sun was down with no recent customers, you were ready to start cleaning up. The place closes in less than twenty minutes and the rest of the staff was sitting around patiently. A ring at the door alerted you all to the sight of a man briskly walking in, gripping at his overcoat as he recovered from the cold outdoors. “Welcome sir,” you greeted while heading to your position behind the counter. The other workers gave their own welcome and followed suit. “Hey!” He said loudly. “Didn’t mean to barge in like that. It’s cold enough tonight without all of this wind.” The voice made you pause. The man approaching you had blonde hair pinned up into a messy bun, some stray locks hanging freely. He adjusted his glasses as he flashed you a smile. That voice…and paired with his appearance…there was no doubt about it. 'Present Mic?' “Heh, looks like I’ve been exposed already!” Mic said with a chuckle. You placed a hand over your mouth, not realizing you had said his name out loud. “Sorry, it’s just really nice to meet you in person. I’m a fan.” You thought you saw him pause as well, eyes widening for a brief moment before asking, “Are you, now? And have we talked before, dear fan?” His voice was calmer than what you were used to hearing on his show. “We have, on the radio. Quite a few times, actually,” you admitted. And with that, his smile was enhanced to blinding levels. “My favorite lady listener! I thought I recognized that sweet voice!” Mic didn’t seem to respond to your blush and kept going. “I remember you said that you worked around here, but I sure didn’t expect to bump into you!” “Well, fate’s treating us both well tonight. I can’t properly express how excited I am to meet you while on the job. What can I get you tonight?” You hid behind your professionalism and waited for his order. Mic rubbed at his chin and pondered. “Well, I’ve been convinced by word-of-mouth that you guys have some yummy pastries. What do you think will go well with some hot cocoa?” Fortunately, the cafe’s menu was practically branded into your mind, so even the presence of a pro hero isn’t enough to make you draw a blank. “I’d personally recommend one of our warm treats. Maybe you’d like to try our filled croissants? The strawberry one is my favorite.” “Mmm, sounds delish. I trust you,” His grins were seriously trying to make you melt. “Hit me up with a cocoa and a strawberry croissant for here!” After taking his order, Mic seated himself at a table to wait for his sugary meal. As you prepared his chocolate and croissant, you couldn’t resist stealing an occasional glance at him. He was studying the cute decorations that littered the place and gently bobbing his head to the indie music playing through the speakers, but the two of you happened to lock eyes once, forcing you to immediately look away. Whenever you saw him in the media, his eyes were usually obscured by the orange shades that went with his hero outfit. Now you realize just how green they are, almost as if they glowed. It didn’t take long to prepare his order, and you decided to grant him the special treatment of delivering the food to his table. There was no one else to serve, after all. “Hey,” he said. “Would you mind sitting down with me?” Your heart fluttered. “Not at all, Mic.” You pulled back the chair opposite to him and took a seat. “Call me Hizashi.” He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Present Mic is always too busy for a snack break.”   “Of course, Hizashi.” You listened to Hizashi’s compliments on the food and drink, trying not to stare as he ate. You were always so sure that he couldn’t possibly be as loud and lively as his hero persona, and you were mostly right, but even now as he dined at a simple cafe, he still somehow radiated a cheerful and positive energy. The warm feeling you got from hearing him on the radio was dwarfed by what you currently feel now that you are seeing him in person. He had eaten the last of the flaky bread before speaking again. “You know, now that you’re right here in the flesh, I gotta ask you something that’s been bothering me since my last show.” Lime green eyes peered into yours as he idly stirred the cup of chocolate. “Were you alright that night? You sounded…conflicted when we were talking.” A lump caught in your throat. You didn’t expect something like that to stick with him. Surely he had more important matters to worry about. “Don’t worry about it,” you answered. “I just had silly things crossing my mind at the moment.” Hizashi took a sip, his eyes not leaving you. “Alright, I don’t wanna pry. I know you’re a grown woman, but I do like helping people. It’s my favorite part of all three of my jobs.” His smile never faded since he walked in here and man, you weren’t used to him looking or sounding so soft. You sat there silently, fighting internally as you tried to decide whether or not to confess. The pro hero waited, drinking and showing no signs of impatience. Your hands gripped at your apron as you took a breath. “I wanted to be a hero.” The only sort of reaction you noticed were his raising eyebrows. “Ah,” he murmured. “Do you still want to be a hero?” A beat of silence. “…No.” Hizashi watched, probably waiting for you to say more, but you still didn’t know how much you wanted to share. “Does that bother you?” He asked. You nodded. “I’d like to hear why, listener.” Hearing the term you were so used to on his show lifted some of the pressure. Ironically, he was probably the best listener out of anyone that tuned in. You straightened your posture and swallowed. “Then I should probably start from the beginning.” And so you let it all spill. How you once had the same glorious dream as so many other children. You explained all of the time and effort you put into the tests and exams, but it was never enough, and your quirk always failed to impress spectators. You had family and friends that supported you for so long, had sacrificed so much to make this happen, but when you realized that your pursuit was leading you to homelessness, you accepted defeat. Hizashi paid close attention, only making a small comment here and there, but he waited for you to finish to say anything more. “I’m sorry you couldn’t get there,” he said sympathetically. “It’s fine.” You were looking down at your lap, unable to hold his gaze throughout most of the story. “I recovered pretty well. It’s nice here.” He hummed and leaned back in his seat. “That’s good! Not everyone can bounce back from that. Sounds like it’s still bothering you, though. Are you sure you don’t want to try again? I’m more than happy to help you out.” You shook your head at the generous offer. This man was too kind. “Thanks, but that’s alright. I’m happy where I am, it’s just that…” You paused as you tried to form the frustration you’ve felt for years into words. “I had put my whole life into this, gave up everything I had, and…and I don’t have anything to show for it, you know? Feels like the biggest waste.” “Yeah, maybe it was.” His blunt admittance surprised you. “But when you realized you weren’t getting anywhere, you stopped before you hit rock bottom. I know some students of mine who wouldn’t have that self-control.” He gave a soft snort at the thought. “Hell, when everyday is such a painful climb, you forget if there’s even anything waiting for you at the top. Maybe you would’ve reached the peak just to finally keel over.”  You nodded along with his feedback. It wasn’t anything new; you’ve comforted yourself with similar words, albeit with less metaphors. And yet, your pesky mind couldn’t accept such logic. “But people don’t like quitters.” Hizashi kept going, arms crossed and staring intensely at his empty plate. “Because quitting apparently means that you’re weak, not that you were smart enough to see that you’re just hurting yourself at a certain point. Man, you know how many people wouldn’t be stuck doing stuff that they hate if this mindset didn’t exist? I know a guy who finally won the heart of the heroine of his dreams, and I was like, ‘Awesome, dude!’” You watched with mild amusement as Hizashi’s volume was slowly rising along with his increasingly animated movements. “But surprise! Turns out that she makes for the world’s worst girlfriend! The poor guy is in his own little hell, but he’s wanted this gal for soooo long and he’s still soooo sure that they’re fated to be together. If I used my quirk to scream at the guy to break it off already, he’d still manage to ignore me!” A snicker nearby caught both of your attentions, turning to see the other staff members looking very entertained by his storytelling. Hizashi coughed out of awkwardness and shuffled in his seat. “You, uh, you get what I’m saying?” His voice returned to a calm tone. “Yeah, I get it,” You replied. “I never considered all of that. Sucks for your friend, but I understand the feeling. It must be frustrating to watch from the outside, too.” “Oh yeah, it is.” He sighed and rested his face in one of his hands. “I know they say that you can’t save people that don’t want to be saved, but it’s not gonna keep me from trying. Good to know that you climbed out of that hole yourself. Well, almost.” He finished off the now-lukewarm chocolate. “Your dream died, so handle it like any other death. Mourn and move on. Dwelling on it or thinking about everything you could have done differently is irrational.” You heard him mutter something under his breath, something about someone rubbing off on him too much. The gears turn in your head. Your eyes wonder to a small stain on the table as Hizashi’s advice breaks through your somber barrier. Mourn and move on.

“I’ll try,” You’re shocked by how dry your throat suddenly is. The sound of sweeping and chairs scraping across the floor makes you snap your head to the clock. It was past closing time! “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry!” You didn’t even know if you were apologizing to Hizashi or your co-workers. “I lost track of time! Let me get that for you.” You took his trash before he could respond and quickly joined the others to clean up. “Sorry about that,” one of your friends said. “I guess we all got caught up in your cute little talk.” “Do you have to eavesdrop on every table in this place?” You asked with no real malice. Pretty much the whole staff has a fondness for gossip; perhaps it was just a side effect of working such a job. “Oh, you know me. Why do you even ask?” she laughed. You focused on cleaning the tables as Hizashi stood and straightened out his clothes. You hoped that he wouldn’t leave just yet. His pep talk was appreciated and you wanted to thank him properly before your bus got here. Your bus that was scheduled to arrive ten minutes ago. 'Oh shit!' “My bus! I have to—dammit! I gotta go!” You dashed into the back to gather your belongings and grab your bag. Hizashi and the others looked too stunned by your burst of speed as you exited the cafe and rushed to the bus stop, the biting cold having little effect on your adrenaline-filled body. 'Maybe the bus is late too. Maybe I can still make it.' Your sprint slowed down the moment you saw your ride home already speeding away. It was too late to catch up. You could only watch as the large vehicle drove out of sight, dropping onto the stop’s bench as you caught your breath. Wonderful. This is what you get for getting too comfortable with one of your customers, hero or not. “Hey!” Speak of the devil. You turned to the sight of Hizashi jogging around the corner and toward you. “Man, you move pretty fast.” He caught up to you and took in your tired and defeated form. “And by the looks of it, you still weren’t fast enough.” A loud groan escaped you. “It’s no big deal, really. Another one arrives in about thirty minutes.” “Ah, think you can wait that long in this cold?” A shiver ran through your body immediately after his question. Wow, it really was freezing tonight. You shrugged your shaking shoulders. “I’ll have to. It’s still better than walking.” “Or maybe I can take you home?” Your head snaps back to him. Did you hear that right? “You…you want to take me home?” You repeated. That radiant smile returns to his face and adds another wave of trembles to your body. “I help where I can, and I’m kinda the reason you missed it in the first place. It’s the least I can do for such a loyal listener.” You hesitate, your still-harsh breaths forming misty clouds. You trusted him, no doubt about that. No, what was making you hesitate were his tender expressions that were illuminated by the nearby streetlight, and his lax and inviting posture as he waited for your answer with his hands tucked in his coat, and the realization that Yamada Hizashi was pretty damn handsome.   Pure hot red was rushing up to your face. Surely that was the cold’s fault. “That sounds great,” you uttered before you could even stop yourself. “Alright! Come on, then. I’m totally not dressed to be standing out here for long.” You followed him back to the cafe where an old-fashioned Ford mustang was parked. ‘Classy.'  Your co-workers were watching you enter his car, some with smirks or giving you a thumbs-up. ‘Perverts. It’s not like that.’ At least, you didn’t think it was. The drive home was calming. The radio played lowly as background music while you gave him directions to your apartment. You kept sneaking a peek at him from the corner of your vision, a peaceful look on his face as his fingers tapped on the steering wheel to the beat of the music. He seemed to be the type that hated complete silence; you didn’t mind. The streets were fairly empty, so it didn’t take too long to reach your complex. Hizashi pulled up and parked. “Welp, here’s your stop!” He announced as he hit you with another knockout smile. “Thanks for taking the Present Mic Express, listener.” You removed your seat belt, but made no further movements. “Thank you, Hizashi. For the ride…and the talk. You’ve helped me a lot today.” You say as you dare to look into his hypnotizing irises. He shrugged at your gratitude. “I’m just a customer who was in need of a nighttime snack and met a special gal that turned out to be even greater in person.” It took everything in your power not to cover your face like a flustered schoolgirl, instead breaking eye contact as you felt the heat return to your cheeks. “Thanks, you’re pretty great too.” You shuffled a bit as you both sat in silence. “I’m leaving now.”

“Okay.” You stayed where you were, staring at the door handle like it was the last thing you might ever touch. “I can’t wait to talk to you again on your show.” “Ditto.” “Alright…I’m leaving now.” “You already said that.” You squirmed some more. ‘Come on, you probably just look creepy at this point. Hurry the hell up and say something.’ “Is there something else you wanna tell me?” There was a small hint of amusement in his voice, and you gathered the courage to look at him again, shocked to see that his friendly smile had shifted into something a little more smug. It was probably safe to say that he’s reading the atmosphere pretty well. ‘Then just go for it.’

“Do you…do you want to come inside me—” FUCK. “Come inside with me! Do you want to come inside with me?!”  You were practically shouting the invitation in a feeble attempt to hide your slip-up. Hizashi threw his head back and cackled. “I’d love to, sweetheart! No need to be shy about it. I don’t bite.” You still sat there as the car turned off, his casual acceptance putting you into a stupor. Which version of the question was he even saying yes to? Whichever one it was, he had just accepted your offer to sleep together. You hadn’t been with anyone in years, and now you suddenly do this? A rush of cold wind hit you when he opened his door. “Come on, unless you planned on doing it in the car?” He laughed when you furiously shook your head.  “Good. As much as I love my old girl, she’s probably not very comfortable for something like that.” You only shivered in response as you finally stepped out of his car and joined his side to guide him to your place. All it took was an elevator and a quick walk down the hall to reach your door. It was a little embarrassing to bring a pro hero into your small single-bedroom apartment. It had all of the essentials for a comfortable living, but there wasn’t much room for luxuries. You both kicked off your shoes at the entrance before you hurried to organize some stray clothes and bags. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting guests.” “No worries,” Hizashi didn’t seem to mind as he got comfortable on a chair near your kitchen area and scanned the place. “This is nice.” You snorted at the comment. “I suppose,” you murmured. “It’s nothing worth praising.” “What, finding a place to stay after running yourself down for years? I think that deserves some praise,” he says so matter-of-factually.  That was a really admirable way to put it. “Thank you.” “Mmhmm,” he hummed, watching you finish replacing your things. Now you’re just standing here, not sure what to do next. How do you even start this? Your only experience was a clumsy one with a friend way back. “Well, we can’t do much at this distance, can we?” He says lightly as he gestures you to come closer. You comply and take his offered hand, letting him gently tug you down and onto his lap. He positioned you sideways, your legs laid out over his and making you look and feel like a nervous child. His face was so close, those green eyes looking shinier than ever. “You’ve done this before, right?” His warm breath brushes against your face as he speaks. “Yeah, I have,” you paused and wondered if you should tell him more. Hizashi was getting to know you more than you ever intended. “With a friend some years ago…it was a mess. Two virgins that had no idea what they were doing.” You laughed at the memory. “Heh, I feel you on that one. My first wasn’t the most dignified moment either.” You felt his body shake with his chuckle. His hand was still holding yours, thumb pressing against the space between your knuckles in a sort of massage. The feeling soothed you as his free hand came up to remove his glasses, your body shifting with his as he set them down close by. “In fact, your boy used to be a one pump wonder!” He smiled at your bewildered reaction to the information. “Hey, it’s not my fault sex feels so awesome!” You giggled into his shoulder. He spoke to you with such familiarity that it was impossible to stay anxious. It was why you enjoyed talking to him on the radio, but you never imagined it being the same during a scenario as intimate as this. “Hey, Don’t laugh at me! I’ve gotten better!” He said in mock anger. “And lucky for you, you get to see just how much. Welcome to my private show, listener.” He wiggled his eyebrows in a way that was more comical than seductive. A hand gently held the back of your head, and you let it pull you in to press your lips against his. You closed your eyes and savored the feeling, his lips softer than expected. Your kisses were timid, giving little more than lingering pecks, and Hizashi patiently returned them, slowly adding more pressure and passion as encouragement. The feel of a tongue swiping against your lips made you squeak in shock, getting a chuckle out of him. “That was adorable,” he teased, his voice suddenly at a lower pitch that made you shudder. “You startled me,” you retorted before returning to the kiss, this time with your lips parted to grant him entry. He caught you off guard again by sucking lightly at your lips instead, forcing a gasp out of you before slipping his tongue into your mouth. Your own muscle shyly met his, stroking each other in a lazy dance. His hands moved to hold your face and he’s doing it so tenderly. A hot desire is flowing through your veins from his kisses alone; you can only imagine what else he has in store for you. After a few more wet smacks, the two of you finally parted to catch your breaths, you especially. “Wow,” you couldn’t help but gasp. Hizashi gave a breathless laugh. “Getting overwhelmed already? We haven’t even taken any clothes off yet.” He wasn’t as composed as he let on, a red flush spreading across his face. The hands holding your face moved down to wrap around your waist as he moved his kisses down to your jaw. You sighed and tilted your head back to give him access to your neck, burying your fingers in his hair as you felt him lick and suck at your pulse. Beneath the smooth locks you felt a pin that held his sloppy bun together. “Hizashi? Can I-ah,” a hard suck on your sensitive throat forces you to pause. “Can I…your hair?” You tapped at the pin to get your point across. “Go ahead,” he groaned against your neck, not even slowing his assault as you pulled the small clip out and watched his golden locks fall to his shoulders. He purred to the feeling of you combing through his hair like fine threads. “It’s really pretty,” you whispered, still shivering from the love that he was showering on your skin. He pulls away from your neck. “Are you saying my hair isn’t always pretty? Trying to hurt Mic’s feelings?” He said with a pout. He looked all the hotter with his long hair draping the sides of his face. “Not at all! I think Mic makes for a handsome cockatoo,” you jest with a smirk. “Heh, you got jokes, huh? We’ll see who’s laughing once I get these annoying clothes out of the way.” He double tapped your thigh. “Up.” You stood up and watched him follow instantly, noticing the bulge that was beginning to grow beneath his pants. You quickly tore your eyes away from it. “Hold on a minute, I know what we’re missing.” He reached into his coat pocket and retrieved his phone. You waited, wondering what he could possibly need on his phone right now. A few taps later, a smooth melody began playing from the device. “Oh yeah, I’m feelin’ it already.” He set the phone down and shut his eyes, getting a feel for the beat of the sensual R&B song. This man was unreal. “You have…a lovemaking playlist?” You uttered while watching him get into a groove. “I’ve got a playlist for a lot of things, baby. Nothing sets the mood like a good tune. Don’t worry, sweetie, I’ll go first.” And so he began his slow movements, swaying and bouncing in rhythm to the music, pulling his coat back and shrugging it off in a steady and seductive manner, tossing it aside. Watching a personal strip show of one of your favorite heroes was both hilarious and hot. On one hand, he was giving you playful and goofy faces while lip-singing to the sensual vocals. On the other, ‘I’ll be damned,’ you thought, because he really did know how to move his body and was successfully captivating you. His hips were moving in slow circles as he grabbed the bottom of his shirt, lifting it up and revealing his impressively lean torso. ‘Oh, his hero outfit doesn’t do his body justice.’ You were so impressed by the chest and the abs that were just thick enough to be visible, you didn’t notice him struggling to pull the shirt off of his head. With his top completely bare, he smoothed a hand down his hair and leered at you with a slow lick over his lip. “Liking what you see, baby?” How the hell did his voice get so deep? Why was he being so sexy right now? Your throat was dry all of a sudden, so you simply nodded. “Good.” His hands ran over his chest, making sure you were watching them before they began an agonizingly slow descent, tracing over hard lines, his muscles rippling with the mesmerizing thrust of his hips, a sight so erotic that you wanted to look away, but just couldn’t. With the buttons and zipper quickly undone, his thumbs hooked beneath his pants and began to pull down and oh shit he was pulling at his boxers too. You were really about to see it and you didn’t know if you were ready, but your eyes remained glued to his waist as his masculine v-line and a neat trail of blonde curls was revealed, your breathing getting heavier with the knowledge that he was only centimeters away from revealing his… “Naaaah, I’ll leave these on for now.” Just like that, his voice returned to his loud and cheerful pitch, pants readjusted and no longer on the brink of revealing his manhood. Confused, you look back up to see an infuriatingly innocent face staring back at you. A pang of disappointment hits you hard; Hizashi had just teased you big time. “Your turn.” You stood there awkwardly, having no idea where to even start. “I…uh…” You try to get into rhythm with the song and already feel like a fool. “I’m not much of a dancer. Can I just undress?” You felt a little bad. You didn’t want to kill the mood just because you didn’t know how to be as light and silly as him. Hizashi casually approached in all of his topless glory. “Don’t stress, girl. The stage and spotlight ain’t for everyone,” he empathized. Slender fingers took hold of the bottom of your shirt, and he looked into your eyes for silent permission. You gave a slow nod of approval and lifted your arms so that he could smoothly remove your first article of clothing. He discarded the shirt quickly to lay his hands on your bare waist, tracing over your soft and sensitive skin, making you jump slightly. “That tickles,” you snickered. “Sorry, sorry.” His hands went higher until they reached your bra, fumbling with the clasp at your back. “Mind helping me out? I still haven’t mastered these contraptions,” he asked through gritted teeth. The fully concentrated face for removing an undergarment was a real hoot, but you showed mercy and joined his hands to undo the fastening and pulled the straps down your arms. With how hard he was staring at your exposed breasts, it took everything in your power not to cover yourself, keeping your arms at your sides. “Damn. You’re gorgeous, you know that?” He spoke softly, giving feather-light touches over the mounds of flesh. “Can’t believe you’re giving me the honor of seeing you like this.” You warmed over at the praise and his touch, a thumb brushing lightly over your nipple. “You…look really good too,” you complimented back, your own hands coming up as you considered exploring his body. Hizashi noticed your hesitation and took a hold of your wrists. “You can check me out with more than your eyes, babe,” he says with a wink, and then places your hands right onto his hot and hard chest. ‘Woah.’ You swear that your heart stopped for several seconds. Hands slightly trembling, you run them slowly over his firm pecs, listening to his quickening breaths as you went lower to feel his abs. Present Mic was never really on your list of sexy heroes. You never bothered to imagined what the rowdy guy looked like underneath that superstar getup. ‘Shame on me, I suppose.’ The hero quietly reveled in your touch as he returned to your breasts, kneading them gently to bring out soft moans from you. There was something extra close and affectionate about just feeling each other, hands caressing and pressing every inch of both of your bodies. Your first time wasn’t this slow and steady; you and your partner were too embarrassed by so much clumsy fumbling that you ended up rushing to the main act. An arm wrapped around you and pulled you closer, a pair of lips speaking right next to your ear. “To the bed.” The song currently playing had a much more raunchy vibe to it, matching the growing intensity of the room as Hizashi gently pushed you back onto the mattress so that he could peer down and take in your body from above. You felt even more vulnerable in this position, but the man’s gaze, although lustful, was still gentle and nothing to be afraid of. You had enough courage to take his face and bring him down for another kiss, lips moving more boldly this time. Hizashi smiled behind the kiss, but had other plans and trailed downward, picking up where he left off during the first make-out. He licked a wet trail across your neck, wasting no time in reaching your breasts and peppering one with kisses, the slightly ticklish sensation filling you with pleasurable tingles. Too modest to watch him shower your body with love, you instead closed your eyes and focused on the feeling as the naughty music played on. The wetness of a tongue was flicking across your nipple, making your breath hitch, but it was the complete engulfment of wet heat that made your eyes fly open to the sight of him hungrily sucking at you like he was being nursed. You could still feel his tongue swirling around your nipple in the wet cavern of his mouth. It felt so good, bringing forth an ache within your lower body. “Ah, Hizashi…more…” Your plea came out as a shuddering moan. “Patience, babe,” he panted before switching to your other breast and giving it the same delicious treatment. Soon he continued his trek downwards, kissing at your stomach and playfully dipping his tongue into your navel. “Alright, time for these pants to go.” You lifted your hips to help him pull them off, nervous but so desperate to feel him touch you more. Surprisingly, he left your panties on and placed his lips right on your hipbone, making you twitch. The kisses wandered to your thighs, taking his time in enjoying the texture of your flesh as he licked, sucked, and gave the occasional nip to make you jump. You can feel the hot desire in your core building up as he got closer to your mound, your insides throbbing in anticipation, ready to be probed and explored already. Finally his face was right at your clothed pussy, a sinful grin forming as he observed the very damp spot. You were ready for him to finally remove the last barrier that prevented your bodies from joining. What you weren’t ready for was the shock of his tongue pressing against the thin cotton and licking at you like it wasn’t even there. Even with the shaky gasp that escaped you, you felt mortified. “H-Hizashi? What are—that’s—ohhh.” His lips managed to close right around your protected clit, the feeling muted but still powerful, but this was all so new to you. It’s one thing to fantasize having someone put their mouth there, but to actually…! Hizashi halted his ministrations and looked up at you. “What is it? Did I do something wrong?” The panic in your breathless voice probably worried him a bit. You didn’t want him to think that he screwed up, it’s just that…ugh, you didn’t even know! “I, uh, you don’t have to do that, really,” you stammered. The pure confusion on his face was unexpected. “What? Go down on you? I love doin’ that, babe. You don’t?”

You were tempted to grab a pillow and hide your face. “I…don’t know. No one’s ever done that to me.” “Oh?”  He tilted his head, resting on one of your thighs as he watched you curiously. “Well this guy would love to do it to you. May I?” ‘Yes. Yes, please do it.’ You just couldn’t be as shameless as your inner thoughts, so the most you could do was squeak, “If you want.” Hizashi rubbed soothing circles around your inner thighs. “I’ll just give you a sample, alright? You just lie back and feel it. Actually…” He raised himself and took a hold of your hips, tugging you to the edge of the bed. He was now kneeling on the floor with your legs hanging over his shoulders. Even with your panties still on, you never felt more exposed. His mouth was back on you in an instant, licking long stripes up your covered womanhood. You could feel your heated lust, could feel your juices seeping out to mix with the saliva that was coating your ravaged underwear. But it didn’t look like Hizashi planned on letting up on his assault anytime soon, pressing his face against you as if he was craving your nectar from the source, but insisted on holding himself back. As you whimpered from the wet grazes and your growing arousal, you realized that this just wasn’t going to be enough. “Please,” you whined. “I need more.” “More?” The hero’s voice was husky, and the wicked look he was giving you wasn’t helping matters at all. “What do you want more of?” Your knuckles were turning white from how hard you were clutching the sheets beneath you. “You! Your mouth! Please, take them off!” “You like what my mouth does, baby?” He gave you a quick lick. “Yes.” “You wanna feel more of it?” “Yes, please!” You begged. “Wanna feel my tongue push inside your pussy?” The sudden vulgarity of his words made you clench. “Y-yes.” A finger runs up and down your slit, the cloth’s texture doing nothing but irritating you at this point. “Good, because your taste and smell is driving me wild.” His fingers hooked around the lace and, thank the gods above, finally pulled them off, sticky strands of your arousal being pulled along with it. Repositioning himself, he used his thumbs to spread you open and take a good look at you. ‘Oh God, that’s a bit much.’  You shut your eyes to avoid his invasive ones that were looking straight inside of you. Just before he dove in, a new track began to play. “Oooooh shit, I love this song!” You looked to see Hizashi on the verge of jumping up in excitement. After being so turned on, you managed to forget that he’s a dork. “They’re just asking me to go all-out on you, aren’t they? Get ready, sweetheart. I’m about to send you to heaven.” Your breathing quickened as he leaned in, suddenly understanding that his teasing was just to make you extra sensitive to the real deal, because his breath alone was sending pleasant shocks through you. The first long lick up your sex already had you moaning loudly. A pair of hands held your hips down to prevent you from bucking too wildly, thighs quivering on his shoulders as he hungrily lapped at you. Among the indecent sounds between your legs, you also noticed the song’s lyrics were describing the very act Hizashi was performing right now, his mouth working more vigorously whenever the singer expressed the desire to lick a girl, to make her cum all week. He was avoiding your clit, giving full attention to your sopping folds, sucking on them loudly before deciding to plunge his tongue straight inside of your pussy. The intruding muscle had you squirming against his hold, rubbing against your walls and pushing into you as far as possible. You noticed that Hizashi’s eyes were closed in bliss, giving soft moans as if this was bringing him just as much pleasure. Whatever the case, the sight of him enjoying himself so much was something you’ll be seeing in your erotic dreams for weeks, maybe months to come. You lost control of the sounds leaving your body as the pleasing heat grew, tongue thrusting in and out of your body, his nose pressing against your neglected clit. The thorough tongue-fucking was bringing you so close to the edge. Hizashi released a long and deep moan and…you don’t even understand what happened next. The sound sent the mother of all vibrations bouncing throughout your insides, forcing you into a violent convulsion of an orgasm. You didn’t hear your own scream, the music, or see Hizashi’s amazed expression when you tightened your legs around his head in a vice-like grip. Everything was suddenly muted save for the tremors wracking your entire being without mercy, pleasure pouring over you so strongly that it was frightening. Your surroundings slowly took shape again as you came down from your high, panting and waiting for your limbs to become responsive again. A hand brushed stray hairs away from your face, and you saw a very pleased hero laying beside you. “You alright, baby? You know where you are?” He asked jokingly. “Yeah,” you breathed. “How many fingers am I holding up?” “Shut up.” You swung your weak arm and smacked him in the chest. “What the hell did you do to me?” “Sometimes I use my quirk to add a little kick,” he explained while rolling onto his side, giving your damp face a quick peck. “All it takes is a bass boost to soak the dancefloor, am I right? Though maybe that was too much. I didn’t know whether to be turned on or scared with the way you were spazzing out. Hope your neighbors didn’t think you were being murdered.” You shrunk into yourself. “Oh. Sorry,” you mumbled. You watched his hand casually explore your sensitive skin, catching a glimpse of the bulge in his pants that was more prominent than ever. “Your…” You gestured to his groin. He looked down at his stiff predicament and huffed. “Ah, yeah. It’s kinda been killin’ me. You good to keep going, babe?” How could you possibly say no after the ride he’s given you? “Yes, of course.” You moved to get up, but he gently pushes down on you. “Stay right here. I just need a minute.” The bed shifts with the loss of his weight and you watch him grab his discarded coat, fishing for something in its pockets and mumbling about something that he always keeps around, until you hear a little “a-ha” as he triumphantly holds up a condom. “Safety first~,” he says in a sing-song voice. Wow, he’s a prepared guy. Disobeying his orders, you raised yourself to sit upright. “Can I do the honors?” You asked. Honestly, you were just curious to see what he had in store for you down there. Hizashi looked surprised but pleased. “Be my guest!” he said excitedly, removing the wrapper while approaching you. The tent in his pants just sat there in front of you, begging to finally be released. “So, do you want me to finish my little show, or do you want to be the one to take’em off?” He watched your face intently as he thumbed at the band of his pants. You gulped loudly. He clearly wanted this night to be all about you, but he deserved some attention. “I’ll do it.” You whispered, taking a delicate hold of his pants to pull them down and revealing an intricately designed pair of boxers. Colorful urban-style shapes and characters covered the underwear, art that you would expect to see on the city’s walls. Any other time, you would take a moment to appreciate the impressive work, but you had a horny man to take care of. With a shaky tug, his final clothing was removed and the freed erection sprang out and smacked you in the face. The horrified ‘eep!’ and the utterly offended look you were giving his cock had Hizashi cracking up. “Shit, I’m sorry, babe!” He choked between breaths. “I guess I should have given you a heads up!” You were too embarrassed to even respond or look him in the eye. “Hey now, I promise he won’t hurt you again.” He gave you a pat on a head like a grumpy child and held out the condom to you. You silently took it and observed his manhood with a cautious look, as if it would somehow lash out and strike you again. He was pretty long; while his girth didn’t look too intimidating, you doubt that he can fit all of his length into you. It twitched when your fingers wrapped around it, rubbing up and down the soft yet firm organ and earning some sharp breaths from Hizashi. You finally attempted working with the music, stroking to match the same slow tempo. You took the lubricated protection and placed it over his swollen head, your other hand keeping up your rhythmic pumping as you pulled it down, stroking every uncovered inch until he was fully sheathed. “Fuck, girl. That was sexy,” Hizashi had watched your performance with lustful wonder. “You really don’t give yourself enough credit.” The praise excited you in more ways than one. His hands were on your shoulders and pushing you back down with him climbing on top, returning you both to your earlier positions. One hand reached between your legs and slipped a finger between your folds, dipping inside to sample your wetness. “Are you ready for me, baby?” His voice returned to that low raspy tone that had you throbbing for him all over again. Your nodding was so frantic that you made him laugh at your eagerness—your want has overpowered your doubts. He takes hold of himself and places the tip right at your entrance, your heart racing in anticipation to be filled. A sudden kiss distracts you. It was the deepest kiss he’s given you, lips practically holding yours prisoner while his tongue curled around yours. Breathy moans left both of your mouths. You were being effectively distracted until you felt the sharp burn of being stretched, your arms wrapping tightly around his neck while he pushed inside as slowly as he could. He drank up your whimpers and you consumed his growls of restraint. Every inch felt like it went on forever, hot and pulsing and overwhelming, yet your greedy pussy clamped down and sucked him in until you were completely filled. Hizashi stayed there, finally detaching his lips so that he could study your face. Those green eyes that enchanted you at the cafe for their warmth and kindness were now glazed over with something raw and insatiable. Such a look made you tighten around him, savoring the groan he gave in response. Your legs wrapped around his waist as the signal to start moving, and he complied with a slow and shallow pace. The friction was already creating another burning knot in your core. The other time someone was inside you like this…there was pleasure then as well, but it was nothing compared to this. Nothing compared to a partner who knew how to properly prepare your body and keep your mind at ease. Hizashi’s hair was draped all around you, creating a romantic enclosure of just him and you, everything else in the room feeling so far away. His thrusts were getting stronger, your heat and tightness making it too difficult for him to keep things slow. You didn’t protest and took every electrifying stroke with a helpless cry. Even with all of the sounds you were making, you dare say that the man above you was being even louder. “Ah…fuck…oh, baby you feel so fucking good. Oh yeah, fucking squeeze me just like that,” his language also became a lot more colorful, apparently. Concerning volume aside, his words only added to your pleasure. Your heels dug into him, pushing him deeper inside and brushing against that spongy bundle of nerves that had you writhing. “Shit, thanks sweetheart. Been lookin’ for that spot.” He pants with a mischievous smile across his sweaty face. With a particularly hard slam that makes you see white, he slows down and starts a deep grind. “Ah! Hizashi!” You weren’t prepared for such powerful stimulation, his dick hitting your sweet spot while his pelvis rolls against your clit. He elevates himself for a better angle, forcing you to disentangle from his neck and instead fumble desperately at his arms. The hot tension was tightening at an alarming rate with the pleasure he was giving to both of your most sensitive spots. Your gaze constantly switched between Hizashi biting his lip in a sexy focused expression to his contracting muscles as his hips press and rub against every inch of your cunt. Your nerves could only handle the sensual onslaught for so long—it didn’t take long before they were all set ablaze and reduced you into a trembling mess with your back arched and mouth hanging open in a silent scream. Sure, it wasn’t a heart-stopping climax like the one he gave you with his mouth, but the simultaneous spasms of your clit and innermost walls was its own amazing experience that had you melting into a blissful puddle. “Mmm, that’s it. That’s a good girl,” Hizashi groaned in approval. Your orgasm was still rippling through you when he buried his face into the crook of your neck and returned to his rutting, now at a much faster pace. Tears pricked at your eyes from the overstimulation. Your own choked sobs were smothered by the most intense moans you’ve ever heard sounding right in your ear. “You’re so amazing, baby…so damn beautiful.” How the fuck did he sound so sweet even when he’s on the verge of nutting? This hero has given you more than he even realized. He’s given you his company and joy every Friday, he’s given you kind words at your job, and now here he was giving all of himself to you. The emotions, the hypersensitivity, the closeness, it was all too much for you.

You came a third time, the sensation toeing the line between pain and pleasure as you clung to him tightly. He gave several more thrusts before reaching his own peak with a howl that might encourage a file complaint or two. You just held him, feeling every shiver run down his limbs and every shaky breath expelled from his powerful lungs. Both of you rested in each other’s embrace. If only things could just stay this way; Hizashi never failed to make you feel so good, in more ways than you even dreamed of. “Woah woah, you alright?” Said man’s panicked voice startled you. Before you could ask what he was talking about, you felt the moisture running down your cheeks. When did you start crying? “What’s the matter?” He tried again, his troubled eyes breaking your heart. ‘It’s nothing,’  that’s what you wanted to say, but your throat felt constricted as more tears fell. Hizashi didn’t need to hear you—he simply pulled you up into a proper hug, saying nothing as you cried in confused frustration. The music had stopped at some point during the sex, the only sound present now was your soft weeping. You let the soft rubs along your back soothe you, his other hand cradling your head. The tenderness of it all just made you want to cry more, but you held back and calmed yourself down and spoke. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” “Nothin’ to be sorry about, listener,” he returned to using that term, making this feel like another one of your friendly night talks. “It gets pretty intense sometimes.” He pulled you into a kiss, this one much lazier than the others. This was it. The kissing. It was too sweet, too sincere, the warmth of it blossomed something inside your chest that felt too earnest to be simple lust. Was he aware of what he was doing to you? Were you just overthinking this? Weren’t one-night stands supposed to have boundaries? Hizashi pulled out of you, leaving behind a sad emptiness that wanted him back immediately. He rose to his feet and headed to your bathroom, most likely to dispose of the condom. You heard his voice sound out of the room. “I’ve got little angels and devils to teach tomorrow, so I probably shouldn’t stay for long.”

Your heart felt like lead. “Okay,” you muttered. There really was nothing more to this. He was putting his boxers back on when he continued. “But…if it’s not too much to ask, maybe I can come by again?” What? Was he messing with you? “You’re serious?” You didn’t mean to sound so disbelieving, but your emotions were such a mess right now and you won’t appreciate having them toyed with. His pants were pulled up next. “One hundred percent serious!” He exclaimed with, dammit, that smile that lit up your entire being. “Maybe I’ll visit the cafe some more too. You were right about that croissant!” He returned to your side on the bed, wrapping an arm around your waist. “What I’m saying is, I think I like my favorite lady listener more than I thought.” Your heart was freed from its petrified state and swelled. Your arms swung around him before you could even stop yourself. “Hizashi…that’s so great but…you’re such a busy pro hero…I’m just a…how will this work?” You were rambling into his chest. “Easy girl, it’s nothing complicated. I’ll visit you whenever I have the time, alright? Ready to give you some support and…attention.” There’s that silly eyebrow wiggle again, making you laugh. You just kept on cuddling him, enjoying his presence for as long as you could tonight. A few minutes passed when you felt him shrug and break the silence. “Ah, what the hell.” He took hold of you and fell back onto the mattress with you now laying against him. “I guess I can stay for the night. I’ll just have to deal with waking up extra early tomorrow.” You snuggled into him and smiled. “Thank you,” you whispered. It’s unclear what kind of relationship you just formed with Hizashi; maybe this was only something temporary. All you knew is that you had him by your side, and you were going to cherish every minute of it and waste nothing. You’ll never waste a second of your life again.

[jimlingss]

The Weekend Massacre

➜ Words: 19.7k

➜ Genres: 90% Angst, 10% Action?, Serial Killer!AU

➜ Summary: Receiving an invitation to a party, Jimin finds himself in a room of serial killers and a game to see who can gain the most notoriety.

➜ Warning: vomiting, toxic relationship, murder, gore, homeless abuse, mentions of sexual abuse, cults, mutilation etc. I don’t condone the actions of my characters.

cr.

[Friday, 10:00pm]   Jimin grips the envelope.   It’s a dark blue, glittering when he holds it up to the light and silk-like to the touch. A complete blank front, it’s without a return or delivery address. He had tossed the first envelope out, supposing it was a mistake. But then another one was sent. And another. And another.   Another. Until he broke the floral red seal that was seemingly dripping off the page.   It didn’t make sense to him — it was an invitation to a party on the far outskirts of the city with his name on it.   He’s not sure how anyone found him. Who it was that sent this. Or what this was.   Then, as if to add to his confusion, he received several phone calls. Whispers. Incoherent. In the middle of the night. Between hours of the day. Startling as it was jarring. It was as if to show these people were watching constantly, as if to tell that he shouldn’t ignore this any longer.   So here Jimin was. Standing in front of a ragged wooden door with the envelope in hand, shrouded in the middle of pitch black without the moon’s luminescence.   He knocks twice.   The door slot slides open. Beady eyes look through.   “Password?”   Jimin recalls the instructions laid out for him. “Never look in the eye of the beast.”   The slot slides shut and the noise of lock gears unwinding soon becomes replaced with the hinges creaking as the door widens. The hall is narrow with a set of descending stairs, a tiny bulb swinging from the moldy ceiling.   The man is burly, over six feet with bulging biceps and tattoos wrapped around them. Jimin swallows hard, burdened with the stranger’s intimidating air and averts his eyes. But the man isn’t dissuaded and reaches into his pocket to hand Jimin a rectangular business card.   It’s black, but golden looped letters etched into the smooth card reads welcome.   Jimin isn’t sure what to do with the card and receives no explanation. The man simply moves ahead. “Follow me.”   Jimin complies wordlessly, stuffing the card into his pocket, suffocating the many questions he has in his throat.   The man leads him down the rickety stairs, knocks on a steel door that opens with another stranger behind it and then past yet another door. It opens to a room of thumping music and neon strobe lights that Jimin’s eyes have yet to adjust to. But the man doesn’t walk into the room, merely stepping aside.   He stares at Jimin.   And Jimin enters on his own.   The bass is boosted, trembling the walls of the underground room in a beat he doesn’t recognize. The scent of alcohol is thick and people are dressed in lavish outfits and laughing. Jimin self-consciously grips the hem of his hoodie, feeling out of place with his jeans he threw on haphazardly.   He awkwardly shuffles amongst the crowd, looking around, squinting when the pink flashing lights cast into his eyes. He’s unable to recognize the people around. There’s fifteen or twenty so, a mix of women and men—    Jimin’s shoulder collides with another. “S-Sorry.”   He locks eyes with the older man, thick framed glasses around kind eyes and wrinkles, a dimpled smile and blonde locks. “Don’t worry about it.”   The man brushes past him.   Jimin doesn’t know what’s going on. He doesn’t know where he is, for what purpose he’s come here for, why the invitation was sent to his name. He feels disoriented. Lost amongst the crowd, dizzy from the strobe lights and the high-pitched laughter closing in on him. Suffocated.   He gasps for air, swinging his head around to look for a wall to lean on, a corner to seek refuge in, where he won’t be swept away by strangers. But no matter where he turns to, it seems like the darkness is encompassing him—   Or at least until he catches another’s eyes.   Across the room. Jimin meets your curious pupils, your quirked head, the edge of your mouth slightly pulled. You’ve been staring at him and that alone captures his attention, roots him back to the ground. You’re in a black dress with white frills that makes it look like it’s a child’s attire.   And as he muses this, you’re approaching faster than he can panic.    Cutting through the horde. Beelining straight to him.    “You’re cute. What’s your name?”   “Jimin,” he stutters out and finally blinks.   “Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.” Your smile expands and before he can utter your name to memory, you lean in close. “I know what you did.”   Immediately, Jimin frowns. “What do you mean?”   You don’t answer or at least not in the straightforward way he wishes. Instead, you chuckle and Jimin discerns a moment too late that your gaze has always been predatory. “The both of us are quite alike, you know. But haven’t you noticed? Everyone in this room is a serial killer.”   “W-What?” Jimin stutters, his head whipping from side to side, from person to person as he pales. You watch him carefully with an amused expression, how his eyes are widened like a puppy’s, how his mouth has downturned. It’s funny — how he acts when he’s not any different.   But the chance to ask, interrogate or escape is stolen when the music lowers and the lights dim.   “Oh.” You tug on Jimin’s sleeve. “It’s starting.”   He follows your line of sight to the stage at the back, a shimmering spotlight shining down and showing him where the end of the room exactly is. Yet the figure that stands there is obscure. Hidden by their black clothing, their hood, a mask on their face.   The voice booms when it speaks. “Welcome all to the first Weekend Massacre!”   Jimin’s reeling and his eyes travel across the room. Amidst the crowd, he finds the blonde man from earlier, another shorter man with darker hair and a taller brunette. It’s then that the realization strikes him across the face. He’s seen some of these people before. On the news. In the newspaper.   “Each of you who have received an invitation have been specifically chosen to be a participant in our games.” Games? Jimin’s attention is taken back to the stage. “Forty eight hours to commit as many crimes as you can with the promise of endless notoriety and being the first victor.”   He’s nauseous, afraid, petrified of what these people around him have done, what he’s gotten himself into. And he barely has half a mind when you peek at him with another smile.   “Each crime will be weighed differently on a point basis. You will be able to call in at any time to know your rank and the rank of one above and below you. There are two rules. Do not kill another participant and if you are caught by the authorities, then you are suspended from participating any further. The games will officially start in an hour and end on Sunday at this same time.”    “I wish you all luck. The victor is somewhere standing in this room tonight and I look forward to meeting them.”   It’s a game of killing people. A competition to see who can cause the most harm. A crowd of serial killers who have committed the most heinous crimes against women and children.    Jimin feels bile reaching up his throat. He’s dizzy. He can’t hear anything until there’s a crisp call of his name and curious eyes peering into his.   “Jimin? Are you alright?”   No. He isn’t. Not in the least bit.    He wants to run, tell someone this is happening, but he wonders if anyone would even believe him and telling anyone would mean giving himself in. It would mean being tracked down by those who organized this event and the police. It’s the last thing he would want.   And he has a feeling that choosing not to participate isn’t an option either. Not with what happened when he threw out all those invitations, when he tried to ignore those phone calls.   They’ll find him, whoever they are, and make him play.   Jimin doesn’t get a chance to make a peep. You grab both of his hands into yours, smiling sweetly and tenderly. “Don’t be scared, Jimin! How about this? I’ll take you under my wing!”   He stares at you. And an answer comes to him.   It might be the perfect escape, a medium between participating and not — watching from the sidelines. Would that be enough to consider that he’s taking part but without having to do such a heinous thing? Would he truly be resolved from needing to act?   More importantly, Jimin doesn’t understand. All he knows is your name. There’s no reason for you to offer your protection, to let him come along. He’s just met you.    “W-Why?”   “Because people like me and you need to stick together, silly! You don’t look like you can survive a second! So how about it, pet? You can join me. I don’t make this offer just to anybody!”   Jimin gazes at the way you hold your hand out to him.

[Friday, 11:34pm]   He fiddles with his fingers in his lap.   Jimin swallows hard and steals a glance at you. You’re humming some light tune and tapping your hands against the steering wheel — the fluorescent street lights illuminating your face as you drive by before you’re brought into darkness again a second later.   He’s not sure who’s the crazy one.   The one who doesn’t even bat a lash after suddenly being thrusted into a murder game. Or the one who’s cognizant enough to be aware of how insane this is but is still following along anyhow.   “So!” Your loud voice startles him. “We should get playing, shouldn’t we, pet?”   Jimin’s tone stays timid. “What if we don’t?” The game is obscure and the realm of possibilities seems endless. Maybe the repercussions won’t be that bad if he chooses not to play.    Yet at the same time, Jimin feels like he’s back at the party, placed in the crowd, shrouded in the darkness, being swept along by the tide without escape. A helpless follower.   You scoff, looking at him. “And what would we do instead? Sit around and wait for someone else to be crowned the winner? How boring would that be?! I don’t think so. This is a once in a lifetime chance to compete with other killers. Why should we give it up when it’s so much fun?!”    You command, “Pick someone.”   “What?” Jimin’s eyes widen. He grasps his hands, feeling them shake even more.   “I’ll help you kill someone, Jimin.” You smile at him. “I’ll give you the first pick.”   “I...don’t know.”   “It can be anyone you want! Anyone you’re upset with or you don’t like or you think makes your eyes sore!” You have a Chester's grin, eyes that twinkle in the night skyline’s lights. “Pick!”   Jimin can feel the car accelerate dangerously down the empty street. And he sweats, placed under the pressure. He’s frightened of you, of your presence, how it seems like you know a million things about him, but he doesn’t know a single thing about you other than your name.   It feels like you can see right through him.   He wonders what crime you’ve committed. What you’ve done to be considered a serial killer.   “Ji-min~,” you sing-song and he meets your eyes. “Pick already!”   He glances out the window, head swirling, legs quivering. He has to choose the victim. But there’s no one he hates, no one he has malice towards, no one he wants to see dead.   Out of sheer fear and compulsion, feeling the seconds ticking down and your impatience growing, Jimin bites the bullet and impulsively points straight out the windshield. “H-Him.”   It was the first person he saw. A person merely at the wrong place at the wrong time. A homeless man with a parked shopping cart, digging through a garbage can. Oblivious.   The car slows down at once and Jimin hears your hum. “Good choice. No one will miss someone like him!”   Jimin feels nauseous.   He feels queasy when the car is parked across the street, when you get out and dig into the trunk, telling him not to worry about it and how it’s actually a stolen vehicle you got your hands onto.   He feels queasy when you cross the road while hugging his arm, how you approach the disheveled man casually and how the stranger looks up with a tired, worn expression yet retains a compassionate smile—   “Is there somethin’ I can help you with?”   “Yes. My boyfriend and I were actually wondering if we could get directions to—”   And most of all, Jimin feels absolutely sick to his stomach when the homeless man innocently turns away to point to the roads, explaining the directions, and you bear a hammer from the sack you have dangling from your other arm.   It’s mid-sentence. Mid blink when you reach over to smash the man’s head. Without warning, without reasoning, without hesitation. You’ve detached yourself from Jimin smoothly and slammed the head of the hammer onto the stranger’s skull. Allowing him to stumble back on the park bench, wheezing, eyes widened from shock. The sound of the cracking bones echoes.   “P-Please!” The man is petrified, shaking with death setting in his eyes, gripping his head as blood pours down to his face and through his lashes. “I-I have k-kids! I have kids!”   The pleading voice jarring to the ears.   Jimin is horrified.    You loom over the man with an impassive expression. And as the man begs with tears in his eyes, you slam the hammer on his head again, loud enough that Jimin, himself, cries out.   “Stop!”   You turn around, crimson splattered on your cheek. The homeless man’s no longer conscious, flopped over as his head continues to pour out blood.    “What’s wrong, Jiminnie?” You loll your head to one side.   But he ignores you. Jimin looks at the man. The victim he chose.    Bile reaches up to his throat. Jimin collapses on his weak knees. And he throws up. Chunks of his partially digested microwavable dinner spew out as he wheezes. His stomach contracts as he coughs to the ground, face littered with loose teardrops and cold sweat. The pungent scent is sharp against the acid in his throat. Jimin wipes his mouth with the back of his quivering hand.   “Oh my fucking god. W-we...we need to take him to the hospital!”   “Now why would we do that, silly?” you giggle. “We need to finish him off!”   You’re insane and he was insane to come along with you, for taking the invitation and going to the party, for thinking he could go along with this and be safe watching from the sidelines. “I-I’m not a killer!” Jimin sobs into his hands, unable to look at the man any longer. Jimin doesn’t know why he was picked, why he was given an invitation. They have the wrong person.   And like he’s at a confession, he professes, “I’m not a serial killer!”   But instead of a priest, it’s the devil itself. “And what would your family say about that, Jiminnie?”   You lower yourself down to him, carding your bloodstained fingers through his soft brunette locks as he trembles. Your murmur is consoling as it is tantalizing. The silence isn’t as eerie as it should be.   “I heard about it, you know. I saw it on the news. I know you did it. It takes one to know one.”   “Stop.” Jimin hyperventilates between tears, shaking his head, but you don’t.   “You mutilated them.”   Beneath his eyelids, he sees it. The crimson coated floorboards, splattered on the yellow paisley wallpaper, on the popcorn ceiling of the living room. He covers his ears. “Stop it!”   “You flushed your younger brother down the toilet.”   The chaos of the entire scene projects before his eyes. The knocked over chairs, the picture frames thrown, the stench of iron in the two bedroom house heavy, the warmth of the blood.   And Jimin feels the same warmth after you’ve pried his hands off of his ears and you hold his cheeks between your hands. You force him to look you in the eye.    “It...it was an accident,” he sobs, the words barely stuttering out of him. “I b-blacked out. I was angry. I d-didn’t know what I was doing.”   He had no control of himself. And worst of all, he never got to repent for his sins. He had an alibi — a timesheet at work that told them he was at another place at that time, yet in reality, he had forgotten to clock out. But by then, he was too much of a coward to fess up to his actions, to tell them that he was the perpetrator, to be looked at as the monster he knows he is.   But somehow, even with all these facts, you don’t look at him like he is one.    “Something like that is never an accident, Jiminnie,” you coo and with a sweet smile, you stand and finish the man off.   The last pained grunt lingers.   Jimin follows along on auto-pilot as you drag the body yourself with much effort. You bury him by the playground where the soil is softest, where in the morning, old couples and children will trample by the dirt without a single thought.    It takes thirty minutes for you to get rid of it, for you to pour two bottles of water over the bench to wash the blood into the nearby gutter, to shove the shopping cart onto the road as a traffic hazard.    Then, you’re grabbing Jimin’s palm, interlacing your fingers between his, staining his skin with the blood on your hands like it’s part of a ritual. You’ve imprinted the patterns of your palm on his. And then you’re pulling him along like a doll, laughing down the street in a high, in a drunken madness in spite of being sober.   “You helped me kill someone, Jiminnie.” Your eyes seem to shine brighter, more excited than before. “You know what this means? It means we’re connected now! Forever and always.”   It’s unsettling, but you’re right.   He’s an accomplice. A bystander. A follower. No worse than you are.   He let this happen. Chose the victim. Watched you do it.    He allowed himself to become your pet.   “I wonder how many points that gave me,” you hum with pouty lips before turning down the alley. Jimin’s not sure where you’re going but he doesn’t care to ask. As if he wasn’t susceptible to being pulled along by the crowd, he feels exceptionally inclined to follow your whims.   He wonders who you are. How he feels somehow feels grounded when he looks at you, even after everything that you’ve done.   “Hurry the fuck up!”   There are two shadowy figures at the end of the dark alleyway the pair of you turn into. You loll your head to one side, curiosity gleaming in your irises. “I wonder what’s going on.”   “T-This is all I have!” The panicked voice tears out of the stranger’s throat. “Please! Let me go!”   Jimin automatically stumbles back, ready to escape to where he came from. But you lean over, interest piqued and you quicken your steps, tugging him along.   “Who’s there?!” The tall brunette points his revolver towards you and you lift your hands up, stepping into the light with Jimin behind you. “What are you looking at, huh?!”   You greet the man with a smile, not at all frightened with the gun being pointed at you. “Relax. I’m a part of the game too.”   “Who the fuck do you think you are?!” he yells from the pit of his stomach, “Don’t tell me to relax!”   Jimin’s eyes search the scene, the stranger with his pockets pulled out, wallet on the floor, shaking incessantly. The one holding him hostage and robbing him is a tall brunette with sharp features. He has a deranged look in his eye, chest rising and falling, sweat built at his hairline.   He recognizes him from the party.   “Taehyung, right?” you chime, “From the infamous Kim family.”   “The hell do you want?!”   The victim looks at Jimin and their eyes meet. The desperation and fear is tangible, and he mouths ‘help’. But then Jimin tears his eyes from the stranger, looking away.   There’s nothing he can do to help him. He can barely help himself.   “Nothing. We’re just passing by. Didn’t think we’d run into someone so soon, but looks fun. I’ll leave you to it then.”   Taehyung glares and gestures away with his gun after a beat. You wave goodbye enthusiastically and pass by humming. Jimin follows after you, quickening his steps until the two figures become distant again.   “H-How’d you know who he was?”   “It’s not hard to know about the Kim family. They might all be imprisoned, but they’re famous,” you tell him as if he should know. “Even if I didn’t know about them, I would’ve, since I had to scope out my competition. I did research on everyone.” You turn to the boy with a sly smirk and your index finger pokes his chest. “Even you, Jiminnie. How do you think I know what you did? But when I read up on you, I knew I’d like you.”   Your smile widens and you turn onto a suburban street. “I’ve always wanted to be part of a Bonnie and Clyde duo.”   He walks with you, shrouded in the darkness while watching a flickering lamp post in the distance. You audibly play eenie, meenie, minie, moe with the houses lined on the avenue and once you land on one, you walk towards it. Jimin stalks after you.    “What are you doing?”   “Watch and see,” you whisper with the corners of your lips curled, twirling around to him as you walk to the front door. From the sack thrown over your shoulder, you come out with two silver pins and you show off to Jimin with your sly smile.   He doesn’t expect you to pick the front lock, but he looks around and hopes no one’s watching.   Within a minute, the door opens. “Nice and easy.”   You skip inside like it’s your own house, but Jimin remains hesitant at the step. It takes a deep inhale before he steps through.   There are shoes haphazardly thrown on the side by the closet, the entrance small. He’s led into a hall and then a living room. Enveloped in the dark, the little street lights cast in and help him find his way. Jimin’s eyes eventually stray to a shelf of frames, old wedding photos of a young couple to pictures of the family gathered around one another with enormous grins.   Yet one photograph takes his attention in particular — one of a little girl in a polka dot dress, showing off her missing front tooth in a wide smile.   You seem to pay no mind to the pictures. Instead, you’re leaning over to shut the open window by the armchair.   The floorboards creak subtly as you creep along the walls, quietly shutting all the windows.    Jimin follows along at a delayed pace, confusion written across his face. At least until you come to the stove and turn all four gas stove tops on with a smile. “What can I say? I like to get creative.”   Jimin pales with the realization. You’re getting rid of an entire family with little to no effort and all you can do is silently giggle.    You walk around the kitchen, up the stairs and on the way, you stop by the carbon monoxide detector to rip out the batteries from it and toss it aside. You’re methodical and careful every step of the way, always controlling the crime scene, playing it like a game of chess.   Jimin’s not sure if he’s scared of you or if he admires you.   The door creaks as you peer into the bedroom. He squints into the darkness over your shoulder but then you slip away to the next door. The following room is brighter. The open window is next to a street lamp outside, so Jimin can make out the princess posters pinned on the pink walls, the toy boxes shoved in the corner, and the little girl asleep soundly in her bed, covers rising and falling every so often.   You don’t blink, taking three strides to reach over and shutting the window. You lock the latch.   Jimin steps into the room as well, but he doesn’t see the doll on the ground. He doesn’t notice it until he accidentally kicks it aside and the thing sounds, greeting him with a deafening — “I love you!”   You whirl around. His entire body freezes. The girl under the covers shuffle.   She twists, turns and audibly sighs. “Mommy?”   Immediately, you move. Like it’s your sheer instincts. Before Jimin can stop you, before he can call your name and tell you to spare her. You rip the pillow from underneath the girl’s head, shocking her awake, and before she can scream aloud, you press the pillow to her face.   Her legs kick out, but you push your entire body weight onto her, suffocating the girl.   Jimin’s knees weaken, his breath staccatos as he sees red beneath his eyes — recalling the splatter of the ceiling, of the paisley wallpaper. He should cry out, shove you off. But whenever he opens his mouth, his voice is lost. He can’t utter a word.   He knows it’s too late. Stopping you would make the girl cry for her parents. They would waken. They would call the police. And he would get caught. Jimin’s too much of a coward.   So he looks away.

[Saturday, 3:28am]   The harsh red and blue spinning lights flash through the alley.   The moment it swirls away, the scene is clouded in darkness before another shade floods inside.   Seokjin releases a heavy breath, shuts his car door and strides down. He shakes away the sleepiness that still lingers after being rudely shaken awake. There wasn’t even time to get a coffee.   “Detective Kim!” someone calls out. A younger man with brown doe eyes waiting for him.    Seokjin wonders how he got here so soon when he wasn’t on a shift. But the new upcoming ones are always like that — ambitious and keen. Give them a few years and they’ll learn to mellow out. Or at least most of them do. He’s not so sure about Jeon Jungkook.   “When’d you get here?”   “Five minutes ago.”   “So I suppose you’ve had enough time to take a look?” Seokjin receives gloves handed to him and puts them on.   “A little.”   The two of them bend over the yellow tape wrapped around the perimeter of the scene. There’s forensics in their white garbs, marking bullet casings and blood splatters, the flashes of their camera blinding to the eye. They set up their lights and the entire alley becomes illuminated.   The victim is lying face up in the middle of the alleyway. His eyes are still wide open. Blood poured out in a pool and staining the pebbles. It’s splattered on the brick wall nearby.   Seokjin’s brows furrow, noticing several bullet holes on the victim’s forehead. His face has been mutilated from the wound. His left shoe is also missing, but Seokjin’s eyes trail to see the leather loafer a meter away.   “What’d you think?” When the older man is met with silence, he turns.   Jungkook swallows hard, quiet as he stares at the corpse. Seokjin doesn’t blame him. It always takes a long time to get used to seeing dead bodies in such a way.   The department might praise Jungkook for being a prodigy with the newer techniques — the whole fancy profiling spiel that Seokjin’s old mind has yet to wrap his head around. But Seokjin has one thing Jungkook lacks. Experience.   Maybe that’s why the chief linked them up. They both could benefit from this partnership.   “Jeon.”   “Sorry.” He snaps back to it and clears his throat. “His name is Park Chanyeol. Twenty eight years old. Works in construction. He was shot in the face six times.”   “Bullets?”   “Point three five seven magnum. They think it’s most likely from some kind of revolver.”   Seokjin hums and Jungkook continues, “His pockets are empty and his wallet is gone. It looks like an armed robbery. Most likely the victim has no connection to the perpetrator. There’s a bruise on his left cheek. He probably had a physical altercation with the perpetrator before he was shot. His knuckles are bloody, so they’re collecting DNA samples to see if it belongs to someone else. That’s most likely going to be our best bet in catching this person considering there aren’t any security cameras in this area or witnesses.”   He nods and after a beat, their eyes meet again. Seokjin asks, “What else? Aside from the main facts of the case.”   Jungkook inhales a deep breath. “The scene is disorganized. There’s no need to shoot someone six times. Whoever did this, not only left the body but left physical evidence. And if they have no connection to the victim, that means they did this spontaneously.”   “So?”   “We’re most likely looking at someone who has poor hygiene and nighttime habits. I’m guessing a man in his early twenties. Below average intelligence. His motive…..is quick financial gain and also being able to feel a sense of superiority and power.”   Seokjin’s eyes narrow into the boy and his soft facial features. He’s not inclined to believe in pure speculation, but Jungkook’s proven himself right on several cases they’ve worked on together and he’s not one to disregard credit where it’s due. So, he takes his word for it.   They cross the tape once more, walking back to the parked cars. The noisy static of the radios and snapshot of cameras fade into the back. “Call Baekhyun. He might want to see this for himself.”   “Detective Byun is down at seventh avenue, Detective Kim.”   He lifts a brow and Jungkook explains, “I heard there was a homicide case there.”   “It looks like it's a busy night tonight,” Seokjin exhales, a cold cloud of air emitting from his lips. He recalls a number of police cars rushing past in the other lane while he was driving here.   Jungkook gets into the passenger seat as Seokjin slides into the driver’s. “Actually, there’s multiple homicide cases being reported at the same time. More than the usual amount. It’s almost like they’re being committed at the same time.”   He puts the keys into the ignition and the engine roars to life with the head beams. “Is it gang related?”   “Hard to say,” the younger sharply inhales. “From what I heard, all the crime scenes are starkly different.”   Seokjin frowns and casts a glance down the busy alleyway. At the same time, the DNA sample on the man’s knuckles are swabbed and bagged to be tested.

[Saturday, 7:58am]   You cackle, leaning on the arm of the armchair with your legs thrown over the other.    Even though Jimin was against entering the house again, you weren’t dissuaded by the lingering traces of carbon monoxide. The open window nearby is enough to air out the area and what better place is there to hide out than a definitely empty home. It gave you a chance to steal more comfortable clothes, rid of your dress and burn it too.   “Nearly two hours ago, a suspect has been arrested in the second degree murder of Park Chanyeol whose body was found in the alley between Third Street and Canons Boulveard.”    You’re seated on the armchair like it’s your throne as Jimin stands on your right side, less like a loyal guard dog and more of a scared puppy who’s not sure what to do. But he’s endearing like that.   “Nineteen year old Kim Taehyung, the youngest member of the notorious Kim family, has been charged with second degree murder, assault with a deadly weapon, robbery and illegal possession of a firearm—”   You laugh as you watch Taehyung on screen cuffed and led out of the car. He’s screaming at the reporters while his lawyer at his side tries to cover his face, but to no avail.   It hasn’t even been twelve hours since the game started and he’s already caught red-handed. In all honesty, you’re a bit disappointed. It’s pleasant to have less competition, but you thought Taehyung would put up more of a fight than that.   Well….you suppose this is the consequence of being as reckless as he is.   “Breaking news that we just received.” The screen flashes to the news anchor. “We believe a bomb has been detonated at the city hall. That happened within the last two minutes, major evacuations are now taking place. Police have still yet to confirm the number of casualties or if this is the act done by a terrorist organization. Stay with us. The scene is now live.”   Your brow quirks. Jimin stumbles forward. His hands tremble, expression stunned.   The news channel gives a helicopter view of city hall, the smoke plumes rising in the air, the chaos on the road with firetrucks and police cars rushing into the scene.   “Is this…”   “A part of the game?” You throw your legs off, feet touching the carpet as your back straightens. It’s not time to be sitting back anymore. “Probably. I’m guessing this is Min’s work.” When Jimin remains confused, you smile and explain, “Min Yoongi. He’s a guy who likes doing flashy stuff like this. Don’t be too impressed, pet. He might have a high fatality rate, but it draws too much attention for my tastes. It makes the cops go cuckoo to find him.”   You stand up and stretch your limbs over your head, groaning as you do so. Finally — there’s some real motivation. The game’s definitely more fun with characters like Yoongi.   “Time to go, Jiminnie.” Your grin is enormous and your eyes gleam. “We can’t just sit back and let someone else win, can we?”

[Saturday, 10:03am]   Even from the distance, the smoky air still permeates through his mask. The scene is largely cleaned up. Just a few hours ago, there were victims crying outside and tens of fire trucks parked on the curb, first responders at the scene rescuing those stranded inside and carrying out the bodies.   The site is still somewhat chaotic, yellow tape lining the perimeter, debris and remaining rubble scattered all over the steps and the road; the shadows of the atrocity committed not long ago.   “In all my years of work, can’t say I’ve ever seen something like this.”   After closing the Kim case in record time, Seokjin only had an hour of sleep before he was abruptly called here. But it’s not just him. All investigators were pulled and dozens of homicide cases have been pushed aside in view of this event.   “How many casualties?”   “Twenty so far.”   “So far?”   Jungkook nods solemnly. “They’re pulling out more bodies from the rubble.”   Seokjin sighs, feeling his dark circles deepen in its lilac shade.    A moment later, he catches a familiar figure approaching from his peripheral vision. Someone with a sharp jawline, darkened hair and a five o’clock shadow around his mouth. Said man appears even more exhausted than Seokjin is, as if he’s aged an additional ten years.   He’s not at all like the strapping, energetic friend he had at the academy all those years ago.   Seokjin manages a smile to the all too familiar Chief of Police. “It’s not often I see you out on the field anymore. I always thought you would get a stroke in that office chair of yours.”   “Sometimes the time calls for it, Jin. I can’t always sit back with my hands clean.”   “And here I thought you forgot what it’s like to get down and dirty.”   “Sir,” Jungkook greets Hoseok, lowering his head just an inch out of respect.   Hoseok nods. “You must be the new profiler that was transferred over. I believe we met once.”   “At the gala.”   “Yes. How have you been managing? I’ve been hearing great things about you.”   “I’ve been doing alright. Just trying my best.”   “He’s keen,” Seokjin says and Hoseok’s lips curl, knowing full well how he feels about keeners.   “Good. Maybe that’ll inspire you to be less grumpy.”   He scoffs and ignores him. “What do you have for me?”   In spite of the difference in their positions, their friendship allows them to be casual with one another. After all, they started at the same time and it was Hoseok who chose to climb the ladder and make his way to the top. Seokjin, on the other hand, has never been one for bureaucracy. Many find his brash way of speaking displeasing, and it’s not what he signed up for either.   “The bomb was sent in a thin package.” The file folder is passed to him as they walk. Seokjin flips it open and studies the photograph of the dollar sign symbol carved into a metal piece, the signature trademark.   “So it’s the Unabomber copycat?”   “I don’t know if I’d go as far as to call him a copycat.”   “Then he’s at least a more advanced version.” Seokjin flips through the report. “It seems like he’s more sophisticated. Are you planning on setting up a task force to find the guy?”   “I don’t know yet.” Hoseok drags a hand over his face. “I have a few investigators in mind that I might assign.”   “But not us?”   “We’re full hands on deck. I’d rather have my most efficient detectives on standby in case something else happens which I have a feeling it just might.” Hoseok’s cautious, always saving his best cards. “In the last twelve hours, crime in the city has spiked to two hundred percent, but there are no connections at all to any of them. I want you to look into it and see if you have any theories. As for this case, the bombing of city hall, I just wanted to hear your thoughts.”   Seokjin hums and turns to the younger man who’s been listening in. “What do you think, Jungkook?”   It takes a second to collect his thoughts. Then, Jungkook’s doe eyes lift, unwavering. “Whoever did this, they left little evidence to work with. The origins of the package can’t be tracked either. So not only did they make the explosive themselves, they controlled every step of it.”   “Above average intelligence.”   Jungkook nods. “And most likely an outcast of society. In the past, this bomber targeted high members of society. And of all the places they could’ve sent it to, they chose city hall this time. Not to mention, his trademark is peculiar. It’s not any initials, it’s a symbol. The dollar sign. I think this person has an ideological motive.”   “Then he’ll most likely be in contact with the police or news outlets soon to spread whatever message he has,” Seokjin adds.   “Most likely. I think we’re looking at someone organized and nonsocial, someone who lives alone and follows the news closely.”   Hoseok smiles. “That’s more than enough to work with.”

[Saturday, 12:01pm]   “Where are we going?” Jimin struggles to keep up with your determined strides.   “Winning the game isn’t just about who kills more, Jiminnie,” you teach him with a sly smile. “You also have to strategize how to take down your competitors.”   The pair of you step up the driveway to the door and you hold the doorbell down with your index finger for an extended amount of time. Then, you knock thrice. There’s silence.   “Who’s house is this?”   “His name is Kim Namjoon. He’s a big competitor.”   Jimin’s head whips towards you. “We’re at his house?!”   You grin. “Pretty sure. What’s the issue?”   He opens his mouth, but no words are uttered. Jimin can’t wrap his mind around how he’s on a serial killer’s doorstep, how you’ve knocked on it, expecting it to open. “How do you even know this is his?”   “I told you. I did my research on everyone, Jiminnie. And don’t worry. If this is really his place, he’ll let us in. It’s not like he can leave us on his porch.”   You turn around to wave enthusiastically at an elderly neighbour walking her dog.   You’re clinically insane — Jimin’s sure of it. But even if you come off as deranged, it’s apparent you’ve thought things through, that you’ve strategized every step. He wonders if that’s why he feels a sense of calm, why it always feels like Jimin’s rooted in the ground when he sees you.   There’s a shift at the door and you look towards the peephole with a massive smile.   The door cracks open.   There’s an older man in his forties, thick framed glasses around kind eyes and wrinkles, a dimpled smile and blonde locks. They recognize each other from the party. “What are you doing here?”   “Seeking refuge obviously,” you sing-song. “Can we come in or what?”   Namjoon’s glare turns menacing. His pupils are blown, eyes bulging from their sockets as his mouth lopsides. The facade of the friendly neighbour crumbles instantaneously and Jimin instinctively shuffles back in intimidation and fear. But then the door widens a moment later.   “Ugh.” You step aside from the large puddle of blood on the floorboards. Jimin’s eyes expand. The streaks of the crimson fluid are pulled towards a closed door meters away as if a body was dragged. “Clean that up, will you?”   Jimin’s knees shake, but he follows after you, stepping aside and slipping into the house. The door is slammed shut.   You’re humming, looking at all the decor of the cozy abode. “Nice house. I like the green drapes.”   “What do you want?” Namjoon stalks after the two of you. “If you’re looking for someone so you can be a trio, I’ll have to refuse. I don’t work well with others and I don’t like anyone interfering with my business.”   “That’s disappointing. I’ll just take breakfast then.” You round the corner, plopping down on the wooden chair by the small dining table. “Have anything good to eat? I’m starving!”   The man glares. You prop your elbow on the table, pouting at him. “Just let us hide out for a while and we’ll leave. Promise.”   “You should’ve done this somewhere else,” he warns, yet turns towards his kitchen.   Jimin releases his held breath from his tense body and comes to sit next to you. He leans in close to whisper, “What are you planning?”   “You’ve never poked a bear before, Jiminnie? It’s all part of the fun. Relax,” you coax him with a crooked smile.    Jimin doesn’t know but it’s because of him that you’re even able to pull this stunt off. He has this permanently scared look on his face, his features etched with fear and regret. It’s endearing, but because of that, Namjoon is sincerely fooled into thinking that you came here as a last resort to escape from prying eyes and just to have a meal.   Jimin has the ability to disarm. And if it wasn’t for him, Namjoon would never believe you.   You look around at the fake flowers in the vase, the nature calendar on the wall, the table without a smudge. Then your eyes trail to a thick pile of photos across the table and you lurch over to grab the stack.   You hum. Jimin pales.   “Is that….”   “Yep.”   Jimin immediately looks away.   It’s dark pictures of dismembered bodies, naked and tied up women caught in the camera’s yellow flash, and women who are just walking on the street, unaware that they’re being stalked and captured from afar. But each photograph is meticulously labeled with a date and name, sometimes with a phone number at the back.   Namjoon’s one of those types who like to call the family of victims just to taunt them, to record conversations he has with victims to play it back for them. Even for your standards, you know he’s sick.   Your study session is interrupted by a meow. An orange tabby cat with narrowed pupils jumps onto the table and then suddenly, the pictures are being snatched out of your hands.   Namjoon’s jaw is clamped, teeth gritted together. He plops down a plate of baked pastries and jams, and quickly collects the stack of photographs.   “That’s not yours to look at.”   “Sorry.” You loll your head to one side. “Got curious.”   There’s an ear-piercing, muffled scream that makes Jimin flinch — a bloodcurdling ‘help’ echoing along the walls. It’s coming from the basement.   You whirl your head back to your host. “Shouldn’t you go take care of that?”   “Don’t touch anything,” Namjoon warns in a low voice and steps away.   You grab the croissant and your teeth tear into it. Your other hand reaches for the cat and the animal allows you to scratch underneath its chin. Its tail curls and it hops off the table.   “Y/N.” For the first time, Jimin calls you by your name and you turn to him. He’s timidly eating his cream cheese pastry with strawberry jam and you reach over with your sleeve to wipe the corner of his mouth free from crumbs.   “Yes?”   “Would...you ever kill me?”   He wonders what it would be like if you considered him a competitor. Or if he wasn’t competing at all, if he could be your victim. Part of him wants to trust you just because it’s easier that way. To be a follower. Hold zero responsibilities. Make no decisions. But he’s not sure if he should allow himself to.   Jimin still has yet to figure out how much he should lean on you and believe in your methods. He doesn’t want to win and you know it too. All he wants is to just be kept safe from the organizers of the event, from the other serial killers, from the police. And it looks like as long as he follows you, everything will work in both of your favours.   “Why would I, silly?” Your smile softens. “It would be too much of a waste if I did.”   It’s not long after the breakfast shenanigans at Kim Namjoon’s house that you make your exit with a ‘see you later’ and slip back onto the suburban street undetected. The older man is happy to have you gone, but if he knew what was up your sleeve, he wouldn’t feel that way.   “A-Are y-you sure this is a good idea?” Jimin’s shaking again, wide-eyed as he grips the phone in the red phone booth. You’re forcing him to make the call purely because it’s too cute to see him sweat under the pressure.   “There aren’t any rules against being a snitch, Jiminnie.” You grin. “And since when did serial killers follow any rules or moral conducts in the first place?”

[Saturday, 6:00pm]   Jungkook scrubs his hands.   Once his skin is free of soap, he turns off the tap and braces himself against the porcelain sink. He exhales staggeringly. He’s seen stuff like this before — made to listen to countless interviews and interrogations, watched tons of videos. It was all a part of his training.    But it’s different when it’s not through a screen and when he’s sitting on a cushy chair behind a desk. It’s different when he’s the one apprehending the criminal and collecting the evidence with his own hands.   Jungkook swallows hard and goes for more soap, trying to rid himself of the disgust he feels.   Kim Namjoon was taken in not even a half hour ago. Luckily, it’s an airtight case. At least with the stack of photos Jungkook found and the two victims barely alive in his basement that was sent away on ambulances. The man might remain silent, but the evidence is insurmountable.   Jungkook turns the tap off, wipes his hands with paper towels, discards it in the trash and walks out of the bathroom. He puts on a stoic expression. He has a job to do. He was assigned this case when they’re short-handed with other detectives and officers, so there’s no choice but to detach himself and be professional.    He finds his partner in his office, seated in his chair and fiddling with a rectangular card.   “Detective Kim?”   Seokjin looks up. “They found this on Kim Namjoon when they were booking him in.”   It’s black, but golden looped letters etched into the smooth card reads welcome.   Seokjin flips it over but there’s nothing else on the card.   “Kim Taehyung had the exact same one,” the older man reveals on an exhale and that immediately piques Jungkook’s attention who cocks a brow.   “Then they know each other. Or at least, they’re connected somehow. If this isn’t gang-related then is it possible that Namjoon knows the Kim family somehow?”   “It doesn’t seem likely. The Kim family is high profile. They wouldn’t have anything to do with a middle class man in his forties living in the suburbs.” Seokjin leans back, scrutinizing the black card and the golden letters. He thinks about the big picture. “But what if this was indeed organized? But by different criminals banding together.” Their eyes meet. “Like they picked a date to have a massacre.”   Jungkook frowns. It’s improbable — an almost outlandish theory. The logistics of it seem too difficult to be feasible. How would a bunch of serial killers with no connection whatsoever be able to meet, arrange and agree on something doing something like that? And for what reason?   Yet that would serve to explain how crime has escalated so drastically in the city within the past day, how there seems to be homicides happening on every single corner.   Jungkook’s train of thoughts crash when Seokjin tosses the card on his desk and sighs, “Have they traced who gave the tip yet?”   “It’s from a phone booth on the corner of Westminster lane.”   “I didn’t know people still used phone booths,” he muses, threading his hands together.   “There weren’t any security cameras, but there was one down the road by a jewelry store. They caught two figures there at the same time the call was made.” Jungkook moves a file folder on his cluttered desk forward and the older man finally flips it open. It’s a fuzzy black and white shot of the camera. He’s barely able to make out the two distinct shapes next to one another.   But Seokjin’s unable to study it for long when his cellphone starts blaring.   He sighs and picks it up. “What is it?” Seokjin’s silent for a long while and then he hums that he’ll be right there before hanging up. That’s never a good sign, so Jungkook braces himself as Seokjin stands and grabs his coat.   “A family was just found dead from carbon monoxide poisoning. They suspect there’s foul play.”

[Saturday, 6:00pm]   The curdling shriek tears through Jimin’s eardrums.   He shrinks back, shutting his eyes as tight as he can until they hurt. He doesn’t allow a sliver of light to come through. He can’t look. He won’t. Even when he knows that right in front of him, you’re choking an old grandma, pinning her to the floor, your grip loose enough so she can still scream.   After a long moment, there’s silence and he hyperventilates.   “You can look now, Jiminnie. I’m not finished but you can still look.”   “No.” He shakes his head furiously, curled into a fetal position. He won’t risk it. So he stays where he is, against the wall, on the floral carpet on the floor.   Jimin hears your sigh and then there are footsteps. What follows is the noise of fabric tearing, threads being roughly pulled. He hitches his breath and automatically flinches when he feels you behind him, your warm breath against his neck.   “Relax. I got you a blindfold.”   You delicately wrap the black cloth around his eyes. And you tie it into a pretty bow behind his head while humming a light tune.   Jimin’s fingers brush against the silky material. He hesitates but trusts you enough to finally peel back his lids. He encounters the comfortable darkness.   “You don’t need to look if you don’t want to,” you chime and he feels your presence fade away from his backside.   He exhales, loosening the tension in his body. But he still doesn’t understand.    Jimin can’t comprehend how you can be so accommodating and thoughtful to him one moment and the next, your eyes are cold to others. “Why are you doing this?”   “Because I want to and it’s fun.” Your giggle tinkles. “Don’t you think so, pet? To have someone at your complete mercy. To see the fear in their eyes and hear them beg.”   With his vision gone, his other senses are in overdrive. Jimin perceives the sharp scent of iron in his nose, tastes the sultry air, and hears rustling. He catches the way you’re panting, how each breath seems heavy from your lungs.   “Lots of people do it for different reasons. For sexual pleasure, the thrill, for their beliefs, or even because they get angry like you do,” you state nonchalantly and he flinches. “There doesn’t need to always be a complicated reason. You can do it out of sheer spite even.”   For the next minute, it goes eerily quiet. Jimin doesn’t know if you’re gone, if you’ve left the room, or if you’ve abandoned him entirely. His arms lift up into the air, batting at the empty space. He’s about to call your name, but then hears your footsteps.   “All done!” you sing-song.    You reach behind him, undoing the ties and the blindfold slips off.    There isn’t a body in sight. Jimin’s met with your smile.

[Saturday, 7:48pm]   “What is happening is very unfortunate and our hearts reach out to all the families of these victims. These senseless crimes will not go unpunished. The terror these criminals have inflicted on the population will not dissuade this country from seeking justice. I have called upon the best personnel who will be involved in these criminal investigations. We ask that during this process all people take caution and stay inside. And I ask that people send their thoughts and prayers…”   Jimin’s focus on the President’s press conference happening in the corner television fades as you start singing to the country music playing overhead. He turns his attention to you.   His expression must be impressed on how you know all the lyrics since you lean in with a grin. “I love this song.”   He never took you to be much of a country music lover.   The retro diner is cozy, a long counter with stools, classic red booths and yellow lights. It’s as if time has stopped in this place and the emptiness only adds to the eerie atmosphere.    The waitress with a half white apron and dress comes out and places two plates on the table. “Here’s your regular stack of pancakes with a side of fruit and bacon, and the strawberry avalanche french toast.”   You smile. “Thanks.”   The woman nods with a “you’re welcome” and returns to the back.   Jimin doesn’t have much of an appetite. But he tries his best to stomach the food, cutting through the bread and piercing it with the fork. You, on the other hand, visibly blanch at the sliced strawberries, banana and oranges on your plate and one by one, you transfer them over to his.   The corner of Jimin’s mouth twitches. “You don’t like fruit?”   “Not really. I only like grapes.”   You grab the maple syrup and Jimin watches with his bugged-out eyes how you nearly empty half the canister. By the time you’re satisfied, your pancakes are drowning in the syrup. Yet you grin happily, excited as you cut into them. You fill your cheeks and Jimin lets his entire smile slip.   “I’m guessing you like pancakes.”   “I love them.” Your knife scrapes the plate as you saw down into the fluffy texture. You muse, “I never got to eat them much as a kid.”   “What did you eat then?”   “A lot of vegetables, fermented food, canned stuff,” you say while chewing in your cheek.   Jimin pushes the strawberries around on his plate for a moment before his eyes lift and his voice lowers. “When...did you start killing people, Y/N?”   “I don’t know. Ever since I was born, I guess,” you deadpan. And after he stares at you for an extended period of time, you elaborate, “I grew up in a cult. Anyone who disobeyed or did bad things was killed. It’s normal.” You shrug. “I don’t know why people make such a big deal about it. People are okay with killing pigs and cows to eat, but not humans.”   It’s jarring to hear and it makes it hard to swallow down his food. “Well, it’s different.”   “Is it?” you ask. “We’re all animals. Having exceptions seems hypocritical. Plus, some people deserve to die, right? That’s why the death penalty exist.”   It’s an odd sense of logic. But what’s even stranger is that he can discern where you’re coming from.   “Why do some people deserve to die more than others? Just because of their actions?” You cut into your pancakes. “If the government kills someone, that’s somehow okay. But if I kill someone, then that’s bad. Who decided that?”   “The world is full of contradictions.” You swallow a mouthful. “At the end of the day, aren’t laws just made by people trying to govern and control other people? Burning witches at the stake used to be legal, you know.”   Jimin’s unable to keep his gaze away from you.   If it wasn’t against the law, he wouldn’t be so scared of getting caught. He wouldn’t have had to spend the last year constantly looking over his shoulder and afraid of sirens. But if it wasn’t against the law, would he even be sitting with you right now and having this conversation?   The games wouldn’t exist. There would be no reason to come up with something like the Weekend Massacre.   Then again, it’s because they didn’t catch him that he could be sitting here at this time. The flawed system made up by people to regulate others failed to accomplish their goal.   You finish the pancakes in a flash and somehow, Jimin finds the strength to finish his too.   Once he’s done, he pushes it aside and your eyes gleam. “Ready?”   “For what?”   “Running, silly.” You grab his hand across the table, stand and yank him out from his seat. “Have you never dined and dashed before?”   You start running before he can protest. Jimin hears the shout and curses of the waitress from behind as you shove the door open and it bangs against the wall with the golden bell up top.    You’re giggling, sprinting as fast as you can, ducking and moving between the crowd. Jimin struggles to keep up but he widens his pace and quickly matches your speed. He steals a glimpse of you, catching the fleeting moment of the wind twirling through your hair, the way your eyes are crinkled with your playfully devious smile, how your expression is innocent as you’re committing such a juvenile crime.   Hands held, Jimin interlaces his fingers with yours.   You turn your head, locking your eyes with his, and softening your gaze.   “People like us need to stick together, Jiminnie. We’ll always be marginalized for what we do.”   You’re right. He’s been living like an outcast out of fear, and if people knew the crimes he’s committed, he would be casted away either way. But the realization sinks into Jimin — you’re the first and probably the only person who wouldn’t look at him any differently for what he’s done.   You don’t treat him like he’s a monster. Even when he’s scared of himself, you aren’t.   His hand holding yours tightens.

[Saturday, 9:07pm]   Seokjin hasn’t slept.   He doesn’t think he’ll get the chance to tonight.   There’s no time to when he was being called left, right and center. There are crime scenes behind dumpsters, on the fifth level of a downtown apartment, murderers on every corner of the city. Every officer off duty and on duty have been called, spread thin throughout, and with every hour, there seems to be more and more murders. It’s impossible that this is done by one person or even by five. But Seokjin doesn’t know what to make of it.   He doesn’t know what to do. He hasn’t experienced something like this before — this massacre.   He leans back into the uncomfortable chair, scrubbing a hand over his face. Seokjin studies the black card with golden letters etched into it, the word welcome catching the light.   If this was indeed an organized massacre, then how and who? How could this many killers come together and be this organized? Who is behind it and orchestrating it? And why? Could it be for fame alone? For chaos?   It feels like it’s all part of some sick game.   “Jin, you wanted to talk to me?”   He’s snapped out of his thoughts by his old friend unlocking his office. Hoseok is disoriented and exhausted, coat hanging off of his arm, briefcase swinging in his hand. He doesn’t look like he’s had the chance to sleep either.   Seokjin stands from his seat, having waited for the man, and he follows him into his office. It’s monotone except for the dog figurine on top of the file cabinet and the many awards and certificates framed in a line on the wall. They offered this office to Seokjin once. He refused.   He’s starting to think he shouldn’t have.   Seokjin shuts the door behind him. With the blinds still opened, he witnesses some officers rush past.   Hoseok throws his briefcase onto his desk and collapses into his chair.   “Did you take a look at the monoxide poisoning case?”   “I have, but there aren’t any leads yet. The extended family’s not looking to do autopsies.”   “Give them some time.” Hoseok rolls up his sleeves. “They might change their minds. What did you want to talk to me about?”   Seokjin leans forward, palms flat on the wooden oak of the desk. “I think we should call a citywide lock down.”   For the first time, Hoseok appears alert again. His posture straightens. “What?”   “We need to tell people to stay inside, Hoseok. That’s the best way to protect them.”   “The best way to protect them is to be out there on the street.”   “And that’s what we’ve been doing.” His index finger juts against the file folders piling up. “This is getting out of hand and you know it.”   But Hoseok merely shakes his head. “It would never bode well.”   “We can’t have people running out on the street to get killed,” he spits.   Jung Hoseok stands and the two of them come face to face. “A lockdown would only increase hysteria. This is the time to keep people calm. Mass panic won’t help anyone.”   “People dying won’t help anyone either.”   “Don’t tell me how to do my job!” Hoseok shouts, red in the face, anger overwhelming exhaustion. Someone outside the windows halts before quickening their pace. “You do your job and I’ll do mine!”   Seokjin’s jaw ticks. He feels frustration’s urge to launch himself forward, shake the man until he’s heard. But instead, he steps back and swallows hard. “Fine.” He’s powerless to Hoseok’s authority and he can sense it — neither of them are willing to budge. “I’ll take my leave then.”   As Seokjin shuts the door, Hoseok collapses into his chair again with a sigh.   “Is everything alright?” Jungkook’s stopped in the hall, doe eyes rounded.   Seokjin nods. He doesn’t dwell on the subject. “How did the interrogation with Kim Taehyung go?”   “It was unsuccessful. He refused to talk without his family lawyer.”   He’s not surprised. “They’re about to start on Kim Namjoon, right?”

[Saturday, 9:33pm]   Jungkook hesitates, left hand on the steel knob. But then he takes a deep breath and opens it.   The room is small, brightly lit, a rectangular table on one side of the cream wall with uncomfortable chairs adjacent to each other. One of them is occupied with a glasses-clad, blonde man. He’s dressed in jeans and a flannel, sitting straight, eyes following Jungkook.   “Hello, you must be Kim Namjoon.” The corner of his mouth politely quirks. “I’m officer Jeon Jungkook. It’s nice to meet you.”    Jungkook’s open hand is refused. Namjoon never shakes it. He simply stares at him.   Yet the detective is undeterred and his smile remains, although it never reaches his eyes. He takes a seat and places the file folder on the table. He mimics Namjoon’s posture and leans forward to be closer to the man.   “I believe you know why you’re here.” It’s quiet. “We’ve been looking into several cases of missing women and they’ve all been traced to your house, Namjoon. We found the photos as well and two witnesses are still alive. I’m here because I want to know why you did this. I want to give you the benefit of the doubt. I want to understand you.”   Namjoon stays silent. His eyes cold. Expression blank.   It’s not looking good. “Look, I’m here to help you, Namjoon. We’re beyond denial. Silence won’t help you anymore. It would be better for you to come forward and let me know what’s going on. It’s not like a person wakes up one day and decides they’re going to kill someone. If it’s something in your childhood or if it’s because these women have wronged you somehow then I want to know, so I can help you.”   A minute passes, but the forty-year old man refuses to utter a single syllable.   Jungkook flips open the file folder. There’s the black business card on top of the paperwork, the golden letters looped into the word welcome. He picks it up and shows him. “What is this?” There’s not a single peep. “Can you tell me where you got it from, Namjoon? Do you know who gave this to you?”   Jungkook continues, “It was on Kim Taehyung as well and unless you want to be responsible for his crimes on top of yours, then I think it’s best if you tell me how the two of you are connected with one another. I know this isn’t normal. The both of you are from very different backgrounds. You don’t know him personally, do you?”   Jungkook is steadfast, searching the man’s expression for some sort of clue. But Namjoon is motionless, unresponsive, as if he’s prepared himself for this situation before. The man has no intentions on revealing a single thing — he plans to make it as difficult as possible.   Jungkook concedes this time and switches his tactics. He puts the card down and flips to the back of the folder. There’s a flash photograph of a corpse without their arms. Jungkook swallows hard upon looking at it and then slides it across the table. “Do you know who this is?”   There’s silence.   Namjoon looks right at Jungkook.   “This is Lee Wendy. She’s a mother of a five-year old boy.” He exhales in staccatos. “You stalked her, didn’t you, Namjoon? We have the pictures you took when she was grocery shopping and when she was taking out the garbage.” There’s a pause. “After you took her, you called her family and told them…that...she cries out for her son a lot, right?”   Jungkook drops his hands into his lap, trying to hide the shakiness of them. Yet he forces his voice to remain steady with the picture of Wendy still on the table. “Why did you do this?”   “You knew all of their names, didn’t you? And you followed each of them for weeks.”   “Have you ever—” The older man finally speaks up in a baritone, nearly startling the young officer. But finally Namjoon’s listless eyes aren’t glazed over. Instead, they’re looking straight into Jungkook’s pupils, ogling deep into his soul. “—felt drawn into someone so much that you felt an itch to do it.”   His voice doesn’t come. Jungkook’s pinned to his spot, scrutinized by the monster’s fixated, terrifying gaze that’s a mere inch away. The same eyes that had looked upon countless women. That lured them into his home. Chained them in his basement around the water pipes. Torn into their bones with the hacksaws—   Jungkook stands.   He can’t do this anymore. He can’t take it.   “If you’ll excuse me,” he manages to mutter.   He staggers out. And once the door shuts, Jungkook braces himself with his hands on his knees, wheezing.    From the adjacent room, Seokjin emerges in alarm. The others in the room look out at him. “Jeon! Are you alright? You were getting somewhere!”   Jungkook shakes his head. “I-I’m sorry. I just...her photo was right there and I...I—”   “Hey. It’s alright.” There are firm pats on the back, a comforting squeeze at his shoulder. “We can get someone else in there.”   Jungkook tries to straighten himself out, but his professional facade has crumbled. He’s ashamed as he is nauseated. “I really tried, Detective Kim.”   “And you did good,” Seokjin reassures. “You got him talking, even if it was just a sentence. Better than any of us could. He’ll crack sooner or later.”   Jungkook takes deep breaths and nods.   But before any of them have a chance to say much else, an officer runs towards them with panic-stricken over her face. It’s not a good sign. “There’s been another bombing.”

[Saturday, 11:19pm]   He picks up the black handle of the payphone. The dial tone is monotonous on the other end and he carefully slips the nickels into the slot.   “Five four six,” you read off the numbers you scribbled on your wrist with permanent marker and Jimin follows, pressing the number pad. He was innocent when he asked you earlier how you knew the number, but it wasn’t a big secret. If Jimin didn’t come late to the party, he would’ve had a better grasp on what the games are about, the details and the how-to’s. He might’ve been able to meet a few others as well.   But it was fine by you. He doesn’t need to know anything or anyone when he knows you.   After you read the string of numbers, he stays quiet. After a moment, you hear the muffled voice on the other end.   Jimin glances at you. “I’m calling on behalf of Y/N.”   Thirty seconds pass and then he’s hanging up. You look expectedly at him, lashes batting, bright smile spreading into your cheeks. “So?”   “You’re in second place,” Jimin informs, swallowing hard to deliver the news. “Behind Yoongi. There’s a person behind you by two.”   “And Yoongi?”   “He’s ahead by ten. There are nine others left in the game.”   You sigh, backside hitting the brick wall of the seedy strip mall. It’s not terrible, but not as good as your estimations. “We need to step up our game if we want to win, Jiminnie.”   His confused and curious expression reminds you of a puppy. Jimin’s too cute, especially when he follows after you when you walk off. He’s always trailing your shadow, one step behind your heel.   You can’t help turning around just to take a peek at him.   “Y/N.”   “Hmm?”   Jimin’s brows are furrowed, pouty lips lopsided, voice tender and quiet in the night. “Do you know who started this game?”   “I don’t.” You face the dark road dimly illuminated by the streetlamps again. Before the games, you did a lot of personal research, but you were never quite able to dig that deep. “People like you and I probably, or people who just want to watch the world burn. Or maybe…”   “Maybe?”   “People who don’t like the current police force and want to overthrow it.” It’s plausible. A theory you never really thought about, but it sounds good. You shift over your shoulder with a glimmer in your eye. “What better way to mess with an institution than by throwing it into absolute chaos? And what better chaos is there than a bunch of criminals running rampant in the city?”   Jimin has that conflicted look on his face like he’s not sure if he should believe you. But you’re not even sure if you should believe yourself. It’s been a long time since you could differentiate between your own lies and truths. Your bad habit of running your mouth and saying whatever you want, whatever comes to mind, has long engrained itself into your behaviour.   “What’s the prize for doing all this? I mean, what’s in it for everyone else?”   “Notoriety, of course,” you giggle at Jimin’s naivety. “Don’t you want to be remembered as the first ever champion, pet? Come on, stop asking so many questions and hurting your head with it.”   You grab his hand, pulling him along while you laugh. Jimin stumbles after you but catches up.   You’ve noticed — Jimin doesn’t seem so hesitant or scared of you anymore. And it’s a change you welcome happily. This is a partnership after all and it’s not right if he’s frightened of you.    The pair of you careen in the middle of the road as you sing songs from musicals you’ve never seen, disrupting the peace and quiet. And when you turn to him, Jimin’s smiling tenderly at you, in a way you’ve never witnessed before.   “Have you ever thought of giving this up, Y/N?” he asks a little later. “Have you ever thought of trying to live a normal life?”   You’re not sure why he’s asking something so useless or what even constitutes a normal life. But any semblance of doing anything different than what you are now seems entirely unnecessary. There’s no reason to when you’re enjoying it so much. When this is who you are.   “Why would I?”

[Sunday, 6:21am]   It’s a sick and twisted game.   Jimin picks and you kill.   It’s eenie, meenie, minie, moe with the worst consequences, where he chooses the victims at their face value — lone, drunk gangsters making a ruckus, the old man trying to convince an intoxicated woman to come along with him, the girl that seems to be harassing her classmate.   He doesn’t know their name or their story, but he tries not to think about it. Jimin doesn’t dwell as he makes his choice.   And as you follow through with his decision, he never once looks.   He can’t. Not when he’s blindfolded himself and can only catch the noises. The begging. The screaming. The crying. The squealing. The silence that follows.   “You can look now—” is the only cue from you that allows him to slip off the black blindfold and not to have to witness the victims looking at him, pleading with their eyes, blaming his passivity.   Most of the time, you’ve moved the body out of the way. Rolled up in a carpet to be abandoned, buried, thrown into the river, or bagged and ready to be burnt. Or even simply laying in their bed as if they died of natural causes. You know how to control the crime scene — every trace and clue has its own purpose, to distract, to mask. You don’t even so much as leave a hair behind.   But this time, none of that is the case.   The corpse of the man lays in front of him and Jimin tries to find his voice again. “W-Why is the body convulsing? What did you do?”   You kick the stranger’s leg and after a moment, it stops moving. You shrug. “I found pills in the medicine cabinet. I made him take it all and covered his mouth with my hand so he wouldn’t try to spit it out.”   Jimin looks at you. And you flash a smile. “Changing up the method makes it harder for the police to capture us. Plus, isn’t it more fun that way?”   “How….a-are you going to dispose of the body?”   You hum, tapping your chin as if you’re picking from a long list inside your head. Then your eyes suddenly light with amusement and you lean closer to him, irises twinkle with the first crack of dawn’s light.   “What if we dumped it in front of the police station?”

[Sunday, 6:48am]   Jimin’s driving this time and he’s sweating bullets with the corpse in the backseat. He constantly ducks his head when a police car drives by and he looks in the rear-view mirror more often than out the windshield.   It’s endearing to watch. He won’t relax even if you tell him to, so you do his part for him. Your feet are propped up on the dash, window rolled down to feel the breeze as you hum to the tunes of the radio.    Jimin really shouldn’t act so suspicious unless he has something to be sorry for.   Everyone likes to talk about how valuable human lives are until their own interests get in the way — polluting the environment, refusing refugees, entering wars for economics. They’re so, so hypocritical.   “There it is!” You sit straight and Jimin’s breaths become laboured as he parks across the road on the curb. The precinct is an old cream brick, sitting right on the corner with the flag on the side of the building. You grin. “Let’s go!”   “Y/N, I...I-I don’t think this is a good idea—”   But there’s nothing to worry about, not when your faces are covered with your hoods and the stolen sunglasses. Jimin really needs to live a little. Everything you do is a calculated risk and this just happens to be on the higher end, but it’s fun that way. He really needs to learn that caution should only be practiced in moderation or else he’ll spend the rest of his life quivering in fear.   You get out of the car before Jimin can finish. His eyes widen and he’s forced to follow after you.   You round the stolen vehicle and pop open the passenger side of the door. “If we’re doing this, we need to do it quickly.” The edges of your lips quirk. “Help me out, pet.”   You grab the man’s ankle and Jimin fumbles before grabbing the other. He winces and looks away. But the both of you pull with all your might. The skull cracks as it lands onto the concrete.   Limbs tangled. Body dumped.    You slam the door shut and run. Jimin slides back into the driver’s seat as you take shotgun again. He shifts the gears into drive, pumping the gas hard as you cackle. The precinct is left in the dust.   “Oh my god.” Jimin exhales. “I can’t believe we just did that. We...w-we just dumped a body in front of the police station!”   “I know!” You grin, riding on the rush of exhilaration. It was done right under their noses without them even noticing. “I knew you could do it, Jiminnie!”   As Jimin drives back to the house to swap cars again, the sun rises over the horizon. It pierces its golden light into the lightening blue sky, the air feeling crisp this morning. You know there’s a lot in store for the rest of the day — in just a few hours, you might be crowned the champion.   “Jimin! Stop the car for a second!” You tap him on his arm and alarm takes over his expression.   The vehicle comes to a screeching halt, wheels marking the asphalt. Luckily, there’s no one on the road to rear-end him, but you don’t dwell on the fact. You undo your seat belt and climb out.    Jimin watches with his hands on the steering wheel as you rush to the phone booth on the corner of the street.   You roll the loose change you have from your pocket into the slot. And you dial 911.   It rings only once before a woman’s calm voice comes alive on the other line. “911, what is your emergency?”   You’re still catching your breath from the excitement of it all. “I killed them, you know. I did it.”   “W-What?” The dispatcher's voice is pitched and you smirk. “Who did you kill?”   “Enjoy that body I left. Good luck catching me.”   You drop the handset while laughing, leaving it dangling on its wire. The echoing voice of the woman with her helpless — “Hello? Hello?” — fades as you walk away. It’s always a joy to mess with them.   You get back into the car and Jimin whisks you away.

[Sunday, 9:14am]   Seokjin is being driven crazy and he knows it. Between caffeine stops and the piles of file folders growing on his desk, his head throbbing was worsening. But there’s no room to complain, not when the other officers and detectives in the department have their hands full as well.   Several other criminals have been caught, charged, interrogated within the past day. All with the same black card reading welcome. Yet most of the crimes left to tackle remain unsolved. Namely the Capital Bomber, as they started calling him, and whoever left the tip. Or rather, the taunt.   The body of Choi Soobin was dumped in front of the station two hours earlier — the two shapeless figures were seen on the security cameras — the victim’s car was being driven and then somehow returned to his home in perfect condition without a fingerprint to dust for. And that mocking voice provoked everyone.   It came from a phone booth again. But it was a woman’s voice this time.   “Detective Kim.”   Seokjin looks up from his desk. The young man’s hair is in a disarray — it looks like he followed Seokjin’s instructions to get some shut eye on the couch in the break room. There’s no point in working oneself to exhaustion and inhibiting cognitive function. He would’ve slept too if the multiple cases on his plate didn’t keep him up.   “I know we’re not officially on the task force, but there’s been some new developments with the charity bombing.”   “What is it?” Seokjin urges him to step forward and Jungkook hands him the folder. Inside, there are close photographs of some penciled scribbles on pieces of metal.   “This was found inside one of the parts of the bomb. It looks like notes of some kind. The lab’s still doing their analysis, but we might be able to match it with someone.”   The corner of his mouth quirks. “They always slip up at some point.”   “I took a look at the list of suspects as well.”   “And what did you make of it?”   “These three particularly stand out,” Jungkook says and Seokjin flips the page. He encounters a brunette with big eyes. “His name is Boo Seungkwan. He’s twenty five. Single. Living alone. No family alive. He has a background in physics. But oddly enough, he’s been unemployed for the past five years. He had been convicted of animal cruelty a while back and has been on the down-low ever since.”   “Sounds isolated.” Seokjin nods. “Worth looking into.”   “The next person is Mark Tuan. Thirty. Immigrated here back in o six. Divorced two years ago with one daughter who’s five. He’s a mathematics professor but he’s been on a sabbatical for over a year now. His sister called in and said he thinks the bomber might be him because of some conversation they had.”   He hums, staring at the picture for a moment before he flips the page.    Seokjin finds a darker hair man with a tender face and sleepy eyes. He skims over the information provided as Jungkook elaborates, “He’s Min Yoongi. He’s thirty two. Single. Lives alone. His older brother works in accounting, but they seem estranged. He spent three months in a youth detention center once, but somehow managed to pick himself back up and graduated from Yale ten years ago with a Master’s degree in biochemistry. But strangely, he never worked a day in his life. I can’t seem to find an address on him either.”   “What was he in the detention center for?”   “Trying to burn his school down.”   “That’ll definitely get you in there,” Seokjin exhales in surprise.   “It was a particularly bad case too, so they never sealed the records of it.”   Somehow, Seokjin feels less exhausted now that there was a direction in the case. He muses how beneficial it is to have such a capable partner, to have someone to depend on. Seokjin feels a tinge of guilt for denying the young profiler all those months ago.    “Good work, Jeon.”   Jungkook’s timid smile disappears as quickly as it comes. “I still haven’t drawn up any suspects for the carbon monoxide family case or the duo responsible for the phone booth calls.”   “We still have some time, so don’t beat yourself over it,” he notes. “I’ve been looking into it myself. I don’t know if this is a purposeful pattern or just a coincidence, but have you realized one similarity between all the crimes being committed in the past two days, Jeon?”   Jungkook’s brows furrow and he shakes his head. “What is it?”   “They’re all people who have done this before. They’re experienced criminals.”   Criminals that have never been caught, that are responsible for dozens of cold cases. None of them are first-time offenders. From Kim Taehyung to Kim Namjoon, and the three others that were caught red-handed by other detectives. Even the Capital Bomber has set bombs before, albeit on a smaller scale. It’s clear — this isn’t the first time for any of them.   The look on Jungkook’s face confirms Seokjin’s theory and tells him this new detail isn’t unfounded.   “So I’ve been looking into the suspects of unsolved cases and older crimes. As for the poison monoxide case, no matter how many times I look at it, it appears like it’s done by one person. But for some reason, I can’t shake off the idea that it was done by two.”   It’s just a hunch that keeps plaguing Seokjin’s head.   A thought comes across Jungkook’s mind. In the past day, there’s two particular people that have come up twice now. “You don’t think….the carbon monoxide case has any connection to the phone booth duo, right?”   “I don’t know,” the older detective admits honestly. There's no point in just sitting around speculating. He gets up and grabs his coat. “Well, we should take a quick visit to all the bombing suspects first and foremost. The other cases can wait for now.”   There’s not enough to incriminate anyone or build a solid case, but it’s better than nothing.

[Sunday, 2:53pm]   He feels a tap on his shoulder. A quiet call of his name.   “Jimin.” It’s soothing, a comfort seldom found and one he has always yearned for, even as a child. So he savours it, the notes of his name spoken on gentle lips— “Jimin.”    He can’t resist floating in the darkness. It’s too hard to open his eyes. To face reality.   But then the shaking becomes insistent. “Jimin, wake up. Stop sleeping.”   Taken out from his slumber, the world is fuzzy as he blearily blinks awake. The sunlight is blinding and his limbs ache, body folded to the side as he slept in the passenger seat of the car.   You’re in the driver’s and you look at him with a blank expression. Jimin holds back a yawn and his voice is groggy when he asks, “What’s wrong?”   “I have an idea.”   That’s what you told him.    And then, he was crossing the road in the seedy part of town by a strip. Face covered, hood up, hands dug into his pocket.   “We only have a few more hours before the results are out.”   The people behind the stand didn’t speak the same language as he did. They looked at him skeptically with his suspicious attire — even the children nearby were staring. But he still managed to purchase the fireworks.   “We need to drag the lion out of its den.”   You praised him when he got back into the car and Jimin had to admit to himself that it felt good. It feels good to listen to you, for you to look at him so proudly. He’s happy when you are.   “So what are you planning?”   “We’re going to frame Yoongi, of course.”   The pair of you stopped by a gas station for a cardboard box and some duct tape — it felt like you two were making crafts in the car. But soon, he was gripping the package under his arm while walking up the stairs, brushing past the dozens of strangers during the rush.   “Drop the package at the city center train station. Go as close to a crowd as you can.”   He was here. The intercom making announcements was noisy over top the many conversations of students and families, businessmen and women getting back from late lunches. It becomes even more clamorous with the jingle signaling the train’s arrival, the whir of the doors opening.   No one notices him. Not in the bustle. Jimin’s shoved roughly aside when he slows. There aren’t any apologies, no glances over the shoulders. It’s always like this — those who can’t keep up are pushed behind.   “I don’t think I can do this, Y/N.”   “Why not? We’re not harming anyone, silly. We just want to scare them.”   Jimin takes a deep breath, steals a glimpse of the clock and slides the lighter from his pocket. He lights the end that sticks out of a hole in the corner. And once it catches the flame, he drops it and turns around.   “Don’t you trust me?”   He walks away, blending into the crowd with his hood up and his eyes covered. When he’s at the stairs, the explosion is deafening above the noise and the petrified screams echo behind him.

[Sunday, 4:23pm]   “Maybe he decided to change it up,” someone says.   Seokjin is hunched over the screen, watching the footage of the man dropping the box and then turning abruptly on his heel before disappearing. Moments later, the orange explosion takes up the entire screen. Three were left injured. Seokjin plays the clip again.   “It’s too sloppily done,” he mutters, turning over his shoulder to glance at his partner. He knows that Jungkook agrees. But what’s even stranger is that the figure of the man is eerily similar to the fuzzy one at the phone booth. Seokjin wonders if this is a set up. If so, why?   “You don’t think this is the Capital Bomber?” Hoseok asks.   “It can’t be,” Jungkook speaks up to bolster Seokjin’s professional opinion. “Up until now, he used explosive bombs. This was five fireworks stuffed together and the package it was put in is completely different to what it usually is. No one needed to open it either.”   “So you think there’s a copycat?” Detective Byun stands from his seat, sighing heavily. He drags a hand over his face, shoulders slumped and posture tense.   “Maybe it was a failed package,” Captain Chou suggests, reading the room.   A few others nod along. “Or maybe he decided to change his techniques.”   “Why would he?” Jungkook’s voice pitches up in growing frustration, startling a few officers and the sergeant standing by him. They’re turning a blind eye to logic just because it’s easier that way. “This is someone who’s come up with sophisticated explosives that have killed tens of people! Why would he resort to using illegal fireworks?!”   Captain Chou whips her head towards him. “Are you shouting at me, officer Jeon?”   “Jungkook.” Seokjin squeezes at his shoulder and the younger shifts. Their eyes meet and Seokjin steps forward to redirect the attention back onto him. “I agree with him. There’s too many disparities for this to be the Capital Bomber. He wouldn’t have done something like this. It looks more like a poor attempt to pretend to be him.”   “How will the people react when they find out there’re copycats now?” Detective Byun collapses in his seat. “And we haven’t even caught the real one yet.”   It goes quiet around the room. The Chief of Police clears his throat. “Do you have solid evidence this is a copycat?” Hoseok is looking at both him and Jungkook.    Seokjin’s jaw clenches when he knows where he’s getting at. The answer is ultimately— “No.”   “Then it’s still entirely possible that this could be the work of the real Capital Bomber.”   Anger flares in Jungkook’s eyes. “Sir.”   Little can be said when someone knocks on the conference room doors and an assistant enters, whispering into Hoseok’s ear. Said man stands a moment later. “The press conference is starting. We’ll resume the meeting afterwards. Try your best to follow this lead.”   When he leaves, everyone settles down. The murmur of conversations spark throughout the room in between fatigued sighs and Jungkook turns to Seokjin with irritation.   “Detective Kim,” he unintentionally whines, like a child to a father. “This is obviously not him.”   “I know you’re upset, but control yourself, Jeon.” His own anger is palpable, but knowing someone is on his side helps his sanity. “It won’t help our case if we can’t remain calm.”   Suddenly, a woman bursts into the room. All heads turn and she hyperventilates, “S-Someone claiming to be the bomber is on a call with the dispatcher.”   Chaos follows. “What?!”   Seokjin rushes forward, his facade of composure amplified. “Can you put us through?”   It takes seconds before the deep baritone is fuzzy over the speakers around the room.    He’s shouting. “—wasn’t me!”    “Sir, please stay calm. Where are you?”   “Listen here.” The rumbling timbre is menacing, each syllable punctuated with animosity. “I want them to know that it wasn’t me. They’re saying it’s me.”   The dispatcher on the line is amiable. “Who’s saying it’s you, sir?”   “Everyone.” Heavy breaths pant. “It’s all over the news. But I would never do something so stupid to soil my message. Everything I have done up to this point has been crafted to perfection. It’s been masterpieces after masterpieces. But this….this is a distraction! How dare they try to copy my method—”   “Trace the call,” Seokjin commands.   “It’s already happening,” they inform.

[Sunday, 8:20pm]   It took four hours — tracking, planning, putting it in action. And the efforts have paid off.   Min Yoongi is caught, arrested, and charged. He was the Capital Bomber, the one who killed and maimed so many, who caused terror on the streets and panic through the people. Now, he’s safely behind bars and the whole department is celebrating. Seokjin can hear it through the walls.   But it’s not right.   There are too many missing puzzle pieces. Crucial fragments that aren’t part of the story.   Until the last second of the interrogation, he denied any affiliation to the explosion of the train station and with every breath, he denounced such an act. Then who was it? And why now?   Min Yoongi is a cautious criminal, an intellectual with a message of anti-capitalism to send to the world. He knows how to target the right people, how to make the media talk about him. But for him to contact the police directly from sheer fury, for his temper to flare beyond his rationale — whoever was behind the attack of the station played Min Yoongi.   They knew that mimicking him so poorly would rile him up. They knew it would tarnish his message. And they knew that his message was the most important part of his actions.   Yoongi would be scrambling to separate himself from stupidity. To clear his name. And he did.   Whoever did this set him up. But Seokjin doesn’t know the reason for it. He doesn’t have even an inkling as to who it could actually be and why.   It always feels like he’s three steps behind.   Seokjin knocks on the door lightly, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. Hoseok is busy organizing his files, stacking them neatly into piles. When he looks up at the sound, he smiles meekly. “Shouldn’t you be out there celebrating with the rest of them?”   “Shouldn’t you be?”   Hoseok’s eyes crinkle. “Don’t tell the rest of them, but I was planning to sneak out of here within the next ten minutes. I haven’t gone home in two days and all I want is a shower and some shut eye.”   “I won’t tell them,” Seokjin assures. “We all deserve some rest, especially after the last few nights. But god knows we’ll have to be here tomorrow at nine sharp.”   The man smiles and grabs his coat. “You should take a vacation day, Jin. I know you have a ton of them saved up. I don’t want the department to force you to take leave.”   In spite of their civil exterior, the air still hangs tense with the last argument that erupted right here.   “But that’s no fun. What would I do at home?”   “Always the workaholic,” Hoseok muses and the next words are full of implication— “You should take it easy.”   His stare lasts a fraction longer than normal. And Seokjin knows his old friend long enough to recognize what he’s implying. But he’s not so willing to give in. “A break doesn’t actually sound so bad. When I’m back, I could look at the station bombing with fresh eyes.”   The smiles fall, silence strained. “It’s over, Jin. The bomber’s been arrested.”   “Not all of them.” Not the phone booth duo, not the carbon monoxide poisoning case. There are still a lot of crimes to be solved, questions to be answered. It isn’t time to be celebrating.   “For all we know, he’s responsible for the station bombing.”   “Then why does he keep denying it?” The detective steps forward. “He was happy to take credit for the rest of them. City hall, the charity event, the one on—”   “Seokjin.” His entire name said firmly aloud. When their eyes meet, Seokjin is caught off guard — Hoseok’s is listless. Defeated. “I’m not going to have a job after this.”   His voice catches in his throat and his brows furrow a moment later. “What do you mean?”   The man looks at him without trying to impose his authority, without the professional demeanour that took years to craft. It’s human to human. Hoseok is frank with him. “Someone has to take the fall for how things turned out this weekend. For letting so many people die and failing to do our jobs. We might’ve caught him, but it was still too slow for them. You know how the media and the politicians are. My name is going to be dragged through the mud for how inefficiently the department ran.”   “But why does it have to be you? We can fight this—”   Hoseok shakes his head. “It’s useless.”   “Why are you giving up?!” Anger surges through Seokjin but all Hoseok can do is muster a smile.   “If I resign, I can still get a severance pay. Enough to last me a long time. It’s better than if any of you took the fall,” he says and quietness simmers throughout the private office. “We did the best job that we could, Seokjin. We caught him and a bunch others. We’ve done our part. They’re serial killers who will be locked behind bars forever. But this needs to end somewhere.”   He continues— “Do you think whoever replaces me will let you continue this?”   Not much is said after that. Not when Seokjin can’t gather any defenses or further arguments. Not when Hoseok takes his briefcase, exchanges a sad smile and flicks off the lights of his office to drown the walls in darkness.   Seokjin slips out when he starts feeling suffocated.   He leaves the office and escapes outside, in favour of leaning on the brick at the back of the precinct where there are rats scurrying by the dumpsters. He lights the cigarette he swiped from Baekhyun’s desk and brings it to his lips.   Seokjin hasn’t smoked in years.   He muses that a break does sound nice.   The steel doors creak and Seokjin turns his head. He least expects to see the dark-haired young officer with doe eyes. “Detective Kim?”   “Shouldn’t you be inside?”   “I just wanted some fresh air.” The door swings shut while Seokjin taps the ash off of the cigarette bud.   “You were having fun, weren’t you?” He manages a small smile. “Looked like that girl had some plans for you tonight. She works in the dispatch department, right? What’s her name again?”   “Yoo Jeongyeon.” With the single incandescent light on the wall, the blush on Jungkook’s cheeks is visible. “She’s alright.”   “There’s no policy against workplace romance, you know. You might hear it from the others, but all you have to do is take it up with HR.”   Jungkook gives a disgruntled hum, not furthering the subject. Seokjin watches the smoke curl.   “Actually, I wanted to come out here to tell you that I was looking into the list of suspects for the station bombing. I think I’ve narrowed it down, so—”   “This is the best we could do, Jungkook,” Seokjin interrupts and sighs out a puff of smoke. He drops what’s left of the cigarette onto the ground and the toe of his shoe snubs it out.   “Pardon?”   “They’re not going to let us continue investigating the case, Jeon.” He turns to him. It's painful to see the disappointment on his face because Seokjin’s sure he has a mirror image on his. “They’re going to replace Jung Hoseok. And even if they didn’t, he wouldn’t let us continue. They want it to end.”   They want to pretend that all the loose ends are wrapped up, that Min Yoongi was the last. Of course they would. It’s the picture perfect finale. The main criminal is caught after the string of others.   No one wants to imagine that there’s more.   “This is it?”   “This is it.”   “But what if they strike again?” Jungkook persists. “We’re just going to let them go free?!”   “Then we’ll have to treat it like a whole separate incident and not part of this weekend massacre.”   He opens his mouth — speechless, frustrated, disappointed. If there’s one thing Jungkook lacks, it’s experience. And with experience, he’ll come to know these emotions well.    Being a part of the system doesn’t necessarily mean fighting crime and striving for justice. It’s much less righteous than that.   The two of them stand side by side, watching dusk set into night as all the events in the past forty eight hours sink into their shoulders. It’s not until the older, worn detective speaks up that the silence is shattered. “What did you think about the phone booth duo?”   There’s a beat and then Jungkook answers. “I was considering the theory you brought up.”   “That they’re responsible for the monoxide poisoning case?”   He nods. “And that maybe they were responsible for the station bombing too.”   Seokjin’s brow quirk. The figure on the footage certainly resembled the fuzzy shape of the security camera. “So?”   “None of the crimes are excessively violent. They’re unobtrusive and all the victims don’t have any connections to each other. It’s likely they didn’t plan who to kill but planned how they would do it.”   The corner of Seokjin’s mouth curls while he watches as Jungkook’s eyes light up again, his mind at work. It’s relieving to know that the future has an intelligent boy in its midst.   “The crime scene wasn’t messy. It was organized. Even Choi Soobin’s car was spotless and they were seen driving it on camera. Not to mention the house. It shows self-control.”   “They were prepared,” Seokjin affirms.   Jungkook nods. “And they used restraints. Whoever did it is competent. Likely to be above average intelligence and probably has some kind of education. They have to be healthy enough to carry a body to a car too.” He continues on his profiling, “They most likely alternated between walking and driving between each crime scene. They follow the news, taunt the police. They probably have nonsocial habits.”   “Then what about the power dynamic of the duo? It was a male voice who gave the tip and the female voice who taunted us, remember? Do you think it was the male who did these acts and the female who’s the accomplice?”   Jungkook shakes his head. “I don’t think so. That’s what I thought at the beginning, but then I listened to the recordings again and again, and for some reason, the male who gave the tip sounded...scared. While the female, it sounded like she was enjoying taunting us.”   The older detective hums. It’s an interesting thought.   Jungkook arrives at the end of his analysis. Having nothing left to say, he turns to his partner. “What do you think, Detective Kim?”   Seokjin’s head knocks back on the wall as he considers the facts. But truth be told, he already has a theory of his own. “If the pattern still holds, then the phone booth duo are experienced criminals. They likely have some kind of history, some criminal background. They knew what they were doing.”   Jungkook knows by the way he’s talking that he has an idea. “You were looking into the suspects of unsolved cases, right?”   “I was.”   “What did you find?”   “L/N Y/N.” By the look on Jungkook’s face, it’s an unfamiliar name to him. “She was the only daughter of a cult leader. They were out in the middle of nowhere and called themselves the Seventh Sect. They murdered disobedient followers, women, children, the usual. She would’ve experienced emotional abuse as a child growing up in a place like that. She was educated though. Homeschooled. Got her GED.”   Jungkook speculates, “So she’s likely to be socially competent.”   “Probably on some level.” He pauses. “The entire cult was wiped out six years ago.” Jungkook turns his head and Seokjin can feel his stare piercing into his profile. “Most of them died by rat poisoning. The leader was ruled dead by suffocation and the others by carbon monoxide poisoning.”   There’s a pattern that resembles the most recent cases and the realization makes Jungkook’s eyes widen. He’s sure now more than ever they have the person.   “Funny enough, the only daughter of the cult leader disappeared. They couldn’t find her body. So they ruled her dead after a few months and that’s what everyone assumed.” Until now. “But maybe she isn’t.”   It’s a theory, conjecture that would never be accepted by the general attorney or even the department. It’s circumstantial evidence at the end of the day. Yet deep down, Jungkook and Seokjin know what the truth is.   It feels like they’ve solved the case together, albeit all in hypotheticals.   “Then what about her accomplice?” Jungkook eagerly asks. “Do you know who he is?”   “That’s where I have the most trouble,” Seokjin admits with a sigh. “All we know is that he’s about five foot eight, average physique, dark hair. Likely to be of Asian descent. And he most likely has self-control too.”   “But I don't have any ideas on who he could be.” Seokjin looked hard enough that his eyes still sting and his brain throbs. All the people he considered fell through with one qualification or another. “I don’t know how much involvement he had. If he was strung along. Or if he orchestrated it.”   “He probably orchestrated it,” Jungkook guesses, “It makes sense if Y/N was the one who did the killings, then it would make sense if he was the one who manipulated her and planned it all. He’s the mastermind. The one who came up with the idea for framing Min Yoongi, who wanted to leave the tip for Kim Namjoon, and who made Y/N taunt us. He used her like a puppet.”   He hums. It’s all possible.   “Maybe he’s someone from the Seventh Sect,” Jungkook offers.   But Seokjin knows it’s all just hunches built on top of hunches. There’s no point in playing this game and naming potential criminals. There’s nothing they can do when they’re just standing at the back of the precinct as the rest of the department celebrates inside. It’s worthless when they’re unable to pursue their leads, follow through with their investigations.   It’s merely another day of letting criminals go free.   “Maybe.”

[Sunday 9:36pm]   You’re about to be crowned the victor.   Everything you’ve calculated played right into your hand and now all the efforts are going to be paid off.    Jimin’s holding your hand as the two of you walk down the desolate road on the outskirts of town. The entrance to the underground area was just over the horizon. He would’ve driven instead of abandoning the car and walking, but you had convinced him the walk to victory is a lot better. Plus the weather was too nice to not take advantage of it and Jimin has to agree.    The breeze is whisking against his cheeks, the sliver of the moonlight guiding your way, and he feels warm with you beside him.   Especially with you happily humming. Jimin’s grown to quite like your voice. He could hear it forever if you’d let him. “After we win, I’ll treat you to whatever you want, Jiminnie. We can have all kinds of desserts if you want, how does that sound?”   His cheeks are rounded with his grin. “Okay.”   “Only okay?” You turn, pouting at him. “I’m giving you a gift here! Shouldn’t you show more appreciation?”   He laughs. “Fine, I love it, alright?”   You scoff playfully. “You make it sound like I’m forcing you.”   Jimin grins to himself.    The quietness away from the city is serene. He can’t hear the engines of cars or the noisy conversations of strangers — he doesn’t feel left behind. In this place, there’s only the hitch of your breaths, the synchronized footsteps, and every thought of his amplified to a thousand.   “What are you planning to do afterwards, Y/N?” he asks after a moment. Jimin wonders if you’ll let him come with you. The pair of you could go to a place far away from here, where it’s just as quiet. Where he won’t have to worry. Where you both can leave all of this behind and no one could ever find him.   It would be the perfect end.   “I don’t know yet.” You spin to face him with another brilliant smile. “Maybe prepare.”   He squeezes your hand. Forever with you sounds like all he wants. “For what?”   “To play again next year, silly.”   Jimin’s steps slow. The vision of going somewhere far away, of leaving it all behind, shatters just as quickly as it manifested itself inside his mind.   The realization comes crashing down to him — there’s no end. “What?”   “The games are annual, Jiminnie. Did you forget? I’m going to have to keep my title. If you follow me, I’ll even get you second place in no time!” There’s no end. “The two of us need to stick together.”   There’s no end in sight.    The past two days will repeat itself for the rest of his life. He’s stuck to you.   Jimin halts on his heel and you turn your head with a frown. Your lips part as if you’re about to ask him what’s wrong, but you’re interrupted by the roar of a car. Attention taken, your eyes light up as you squint past the head beams piercing through the darkness coming closer and closer.    “Look! I don’t think they’re a part of the games. How about we go for one more, Jiminnie?”   Before he can say a word, you’ve left him behind — flagging down the vehicle, standing in the middle of the road.   And the car screeches to a stop. It’s a young woman sitting in the driver seat alone. She looks at you and Jimin, but it’s hard to see him when he’s standing in the dark. The stranger rolls down the window as you round the car.   “Are you alright? Do you need a lift?” He hears the stranger ask, oblivious to how her compassion is a demise.   “No, it’s alright. My husband and I have a farm right around here. We were just taking a walk.” Before she can express her bewilderment, you beat her to the punch. “I just wanted to tell you that I think you have a flat tire.”   “Oh my god! Really?!”   Jimin flinches when he hears the seat belt come off. He looks up to see her get out of her car.   “It’s over here,” you indicate.    Then he hears a thump, a cry, a snicker. Jimin rounds the vehicle to see the young woman on the floor, her head bleeding as you grasp the pen from your pocket in your left hand. You stab her crown again with it, digging the tip into the skin and bone. The stranger shrieks in agony.   “Y/N.”   “N-no, p-pl-please.” The stranger is crawling away, fingernails scratching the asphalt. “Pl-please. I’m….sorr...y.”   “Put on your blindfold, pet.” You smile at him and when he remains motionless, feet rooted into the roadside, you close the distance in three strides. You reach into his hoodie pocket for the strip of black cloth. All he sees is your smile before you’ve covered his eyes, tied the blindfold around with a bow at the back. “I’ll tell you when you can look.”   Jimin hears the crunch of the pebbles as you walk away. This will never end. He hears the woman’s cries become panicked, breaths quick in hyperventilation. This will never end. He hears her screech and it reverberates in his eardrums. “P-Please!”   This will never end.   It will never be enough for you.   He will never be enough for you.   “S-Stop….s-som..eone!”   Jimin’s hands reach up. He tugs down his blindfold. It flutters into his palm.    It’s so easy — he barely had to graze it.   Jimin takes one step towards your bent backside and as he does so, he reaches down, taking the jagged rock on the side of the road. It fits into his hand perfectly.   He takes another stride and holds his breath.   In the heat of the moment, Jimin swings his arm. The rock slams against the side of your head.   You fall to the ground, gripping the wound, the in-between of your fingertips holding blood.   “J-Jimin?” you whimper, eyes enlarged. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”   Jimin never once looks away. He keeps his pupils trained on you, eyes bulged, not wasting a blink. While you’re still down, he gets on top of you, pinning your body to the concrete. He swings back again as you cry his name. “—imin.”   He will never be enough for you. Why? Why?! After all he’s done!   The blood splatters onto his cheek, his expression impassive as you sob. He remembers. The crimson coated floorboards, splattered on the yellow paisley wallpaper, on the popcorn ceiling of the living room.   “Ji—…”   The knocked over chairs, the picture frames thrown, the stench of iron in the two bedroom house heavy, the warmth of the blood. The same warmth he feels now sticking to his skin.   He had no control of himself then. He was so angry. It was the heat of the moment. His mother spat on him for not giving her his money to buy her cigarettes, his father threatened to divorce her again and his younger brother stood by and just cried. They always liked him more than they liked him. Maybe that’s why Jimin dismembered his arms.   Jimin might’ve blacked out then, he might’ve regretted when he came to his senses, but you were right. It wasn’t just an accident. And he most certainly has control of himself now.   “J..i..m..in.” You’ve wrapped your hand around his wrist, but there isn’t any strength left of you.   Jimin’s deranged when he swings. The image of running away with you cracks. He swings again. The vision of the peaceful and quiet life with you he’s yearned for splinters. He swings once more and there are no more calls of his name. The dream he had of you bursts.   He’s maddened. Overwhelmed in the shade of crimson.    You would never fulfill his delusion or even try to. And he would’ve been trapped, stuck by your side or become your enemy, forced to relieve this fearful nightmare over and over again.   Your skull is cracked, eyes rolled to the back of your head, the whites of your eyes red. Streams of tears stain both sides of your cheeks. But Jimin never once looks away. Not until you’ve taken your last breath.   Then, he’s finally free.   Jimin tosses the rock dented by your head aside. He looks off at the distance where your last victim is still alive, slowly crawling away by her fingernails without ever glancing back. She’s still breathing to see the next day.   He turns away from her, stumbling into the head beams of the car. His shadow is casted on the ground until it fades away.    Jimin leaves behind the only person who would ever understand and accept him.    The person he would never be enough for.   …   He knocks twice. The door slot slides open. Beady eyes look through.    Jimin mutters the password and the door opens a moment later. The man standing by doesn’t comment even when he’s dripping in your blood.    It’s a blur, the music playing, the bustle of the after-party, the way the others ironically move out of the way as if they’ve never seen blood before. Jimin’s no longer pushed aside. He wishes he could kill everyone here.   Soon it all stops. The lights dim in favour of a shimmering spotlight on stage. He feels the person’s eyes on him with everyone else's, hears the clearing of a throat, listens to the useless congratulations and acknowledgment of efforts. Then, the announcement is made.   It doesn’t make any sense. Yet, Jimin finds himself climbing the stairs, standing right on stage in the spotlight, being awarded some heavy metal like he just saved someone’s life.   He looks into the eyes of the representative and exhales, “I killed Y/N.”   “Yes, you did.” He says it like it's some kind of honour. “And for that, you took on all her kills.”   “Isn’t it against the rules?” Jimin deadpans. It’s strange — he can’t really feel anything anymore.   “Since when did serial killers follow rules?” the stranger jests. “Plus, isn’t it more interesting this way?”   “Congratulations!” He turns towards the faceless audience a beat later. “The winner of the first annual Weekend Massacre is Park Jimin!”

[ordinaryschmuck]

What I Thought About the Climax of "Reunion" from Amphibia

Salutations, random people on the internet who are already scrolling right past this. I am an Ordinary Schmuck. I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons.

So, Season Three of Amphibia is coming pretty soon. And I am...excited, but not as much as most people.

If you've seen my reviews, you'll know that while I do like Amphibia, I wouldn't go so far as to say it grabbed me as well as a series like The Owl House. With a show like that, it took me until Episode Five before I realized The Owl House was something special that was worth remembering. For Amphibia? It took me until the Season One finale before I had a similar reaction. But, to be fair, that's because this series is really good at making an ending. "Reunion," for example, takes a lot of the small things the first season has been building up, taking plots from episodes I considered filler and tying it all together in a pretty satisfying ending. I know people are still reeling over the epicness of "True Colors," and all for a good reason, but I want to start the new season on the right foot by discussing a moment that made me consider giving the series a chance.

But it also contains spoilers, so if you haven't seen Amphibia yet, now might be a good time to check it out. It may not have grabbed me and might not even grab you, but trust me when I say that it's worth it just to get to that final scene.

Now, let's review, shall we?

Grime Explaining Flipwart and Bogjump: One thing I will always defend about this series is its humor. More often than not, it succeeds in getting a chuckle out of me with perfect timing and solid comedic delivery. And stuff like this? Where Grime takes a break from his evilness to explain how two board games work to two teenagers? Only to then give up and stick with a simple answer? Yeah, I'm sorry, but that's funny to me. A good thing, too, given how this show relies more on humor than anything else. It may have an overarching plot and its fair share of grim moments (I give you Marcy's maybe death), but Amphibia knows when to keep things light amongst the darkness, which I always appreciate.

Anne Pleading with Sasha: Here, the scene showcases Anne's own personal struggle with Sasha. We know Sasha's a bad friend, primarily because we have eyes. But Anne still needs convincing. Because while she speaks up, she still doesn't assert herself. Anne doesn't yell at Sasha or tell her she's going too far. Instead, she just begs and pleads, hoping to seek the bit of humanity of this girl that Anne sees as a friend. Only for Grime to cut things short in demanding Hop Pop.

Anne Grabbing a Sword to Defend Hop Pop: This, on the other hand, was a defining moment for Anne. She spent so much time with the Plantars, risking life and limb for their own personal health and safety in multiple episodes before this one. So in desperation and due to being backed into a corner, she yanks out one of the guards' swords and orders people to back up, including her "best friend." This moment is when Anne is right on the edge of standing up against Sasha, ready to do all she can to help a person, er, frog that treats her right.

Sasha Talking Anne Down: But she isn't fully ready to fight back yet. Sasha sees the panic and desperation and uses that to her advantage and takes control. She speaks calmly, attracting Anne with talks of going home and pointing out the ridiculousness of standing up for Hop Pop. And my blood boils with how easily she does it. It was like a light switch, turning off her intensity just so Sasha appears to be empathetic. Even though she isn't. You can tell just how cold hearted she can be with the way she says the line "End of discussion." Does the way she say that really sound like a person who has Anne's best interests at heart. I wouldn't think so.

Sprig’s Reaction to Anne Lowering the Sword: And neither does Sprig. I mean, look at Sprig's expressions when he sees Anne lower the sword:

First, there's shock and empathy in seeing Anne crumble to Sasha's will. And unlike the fake empathy Sasha offered, you can see that it's real.

Almost as real as the look of pure disgust he gives Sasha afterward. Personally, I can't blame him. Sprig cares deeply for Anne, as the two of them have the most real friendship out of everyone else in the main cast, one built on mutual trust, respect, and willingness to have the other's best interests at heart.

Sprig Standing Up for Anne: This only proves my point. By slingshotting mud (was that mud?) into Sasha's face and praising how incredible Anne is, Sprig proved he really is the true friend that Sasha can only wish to be. And it's just the boost Anne needed to snap out of her stupor and do, in her words, "something that [she] should have done a long time ago."

Anne Standing Up to Sasha: If standing up for Hop Pop was a defining moment for Anne, defending Sprig from Sasha was a moment Anne could never go back on. It was one thing to fight for her found family against soldiers she's never met before. It's something else to do that against Sasha, Anne's best friend, who she pleaded with earlier and was so close to falling into submission for. But not anymore. At this moment, Anne decided to think for herself and do what needed to be done. Rather than let a bully tell her what to do instead.

Grime’s Words of Warning for Sasha: Grime’s little warning is similar to how a commander gives tips to a fellow commander in leading the troops. Because that's what Sasha really seems like. Not a friend, but someone who takes charge and orders what Anne and Marcy should do rather than listen to the opinions of the group. You see it more in "Battle of the Bands," and that's why I think she follows his advice to "stamp this out." Especially with how he finishes his warning: "Fail, and nothing will ever be the same."

There are two things to take away from that.

The fact that Grime was right. Sasha failed, and nothing was the same because of it. Anne now stood up to her and won't take her orders anymore. The thing is, that would have happened if Anne failed or not. Sasha winning may have stamped Anne's spirit a bit, but it still shows a dark side to her that wouldn't have been forgotten for long.

The fact that Sasha vocally admits that she won't let things change. It proves how twisted her mindset on friendship is that Sasha would willingly partake in a sword fight with her "best friend" because she refuses to have Anne standing up for herself. She likes being in charge and refuses to lose her power no matter what needs to be done to keep it.

If Anne defending Sprig is a moment where she crosses the line for the better, Sasha listening to Grime is a moment where she crosses the line for the worst.

“Anne, you don’t have to do this”: I love how Hop Pop tries to talk Anne out of the challenge. It's his life that's on the line, but he cares just as deeply for Anne as she does for him, that letting her duel Sasha, her supposed "best friend," is a choice he doesn't want her to make.

“Yes, I do.”: But Anne isn't about that. She now knows the type of person Sasha is, and letting her get away with more control is something no one should allow. And Anne won't. Not anymore.

The Fight: The fight isn't all that special compared to other action animation, and even to a certain fight scene we see in "True Colors." But as is, it is still pretty tense. I mean, for f**k's sake, it's two thirteen-year-olds fighting each other with swords! It's a miracle that only Sasha got a small scar at the end of it. Plus, while not the show's highest standard yet, there is a lot of effort and attention put into this battle. Anne is a lot more inexperienced and frantic with her attacks, where Sasha shows she was trained well in her time with the toads and is rotten given that she cheated by blinding Anne to force a victory. In a way, it illustrates the desperation the two of them have for winning, making Sasha's actions, in particular, easier to root for Anne.

Anne Wins: So when Anne is victorious, it's all the more satisfying. Primarily thanks to the look on Sasha's face. Look at it:

That is the definition of shock and anger, mostly shock. Sure, Sasha might be ticked that she lost, but it's Anne's words that I think really hit a specific soft spot: "You're not going to push me around anymore." That's probably the first time that Anne called Sasha out on her awful behavior. Saying that she's standing up to her huts, but pointing out how Sasha basically controlled Anne and how that's something she won't allow anymore, could be an eye-opening moment that Sasha needed.

Grime Goes Against the Deal: Ok, full disclosure, while this post is meant to shine a light on how great a scene is, there is one complaint I've got to get out of the way. You see, Grime going against his deal to let Hop Pop go free if Anne wins was way too predictable. Because why the f**k would he?!

I mean, does this seriously look like the face of a man you can trust? This scene may excel at everything else, but this one predictable moment is just a little off to forgive.

The Tower Blowing Up: This predictable moment, however, is done flawlessly. Because there's a difference between a twist and a payoff. Where a twist is meant to shock the audience, a payoff has to, well, pay off a setup brought up earlier in the story. And Wally's boom-shrooms going off at just the right time, transitioning to the most iconic moment of the series? Yeah, that's a payoff done right.

(Also, Wally cursing his one eye is hilarious)

“Lean On Me”: By the way, NOT joking when I say what follows is the most iconic moment of the series. All of which is aided by the inclusion of "Lean On Me" by Bill Withers. I'm not a music theory major and have no idea if the song itself is actually mildly appropriate to the scene, much like how "All Star" and "I Need a Hero" work perfectly for Shrek and Shrek 2, respectively. With that said, "Lean On Me" really does add an extra Umph! power to what follows. And as Matt Braley, series creator, describes, it is the coolest thing, but it will never happen again.

(Apparently, the song was too expensive).

Anne Goes to Save Sasha: Believe it or not, I actually do love this decision. Sasha may be a bad friend...Actually, no. Sasha is definitely a bad friend, but that doesn't mean Anne wants her to die. Not after all the good times that they had with each other. Anne might refuse to let Sasha push her around, but she's not ready to cut Sasha out of her life. Not yet.

Anne Holds Onto Sasha, the Plantars Hold Onto Anne: ...I mean...just f**king that! Through this moment, we get a perfect idea of how Anne's relationships work.

To put it simply, the Plantars raise Anne up and keep her safe, where Sasha just weighs her down and risks her safety. And the saddest part is that Sasha knows this.

“Anne. Maybe you’re better off without me…”: Some say that this could be Sasha trying to get in one last manipulation, using her own sacrifice to stick to Anne for choosing talking frogs over her. While I could see that perspective as a possibility, I personally take this moment as Sasha finally realizing the damage she causes for Anne and admits her faults. Sure, Sasha might have backpedaled in later episodes. What with refusing to change and even directing her anger towards Anne instead of towards herself. But that's because she had time to process these events and unfairly aim her negative feelings at Anne for wanting something better. So it doesn't seem implausible to me that Sasha admitting that Anne's better off without her is something she believed deep down and, for just a moment, allowed herself to accept this heavy truth. I won't deny the possibility that she's still trying to manipulate Anne, but to me, with the tone and expression Sasha has with her admission, you can't fake that. And you can't fake what she does next.

Sasha Lets Go: This...shocked me right down to my core.

I knew Grime would go back on his word, and I assumed the boom-shrooms would pay off somehow. But Sasha, willingly and unhesitantly, letting go of Anne's grip and falling to an expected demise? I...I couldn't have ever predicted that. Not with what we've seen from her before. When I hear how people see this as one last manipulation tactic, I just can't see it. Yes, there are monsters on this planet who would go this far, but I don't think Sasha is one of them. Later episodes like "Battle of the Bands" (despite a rough start) show signs of a person who could be better, and the Season Three trailer hints that she might actually learn from her mistakes. So her letting go, with no way of knowing her survival, could be the first sign that Sasha would one day make that first step. She might not be able to become Anne’s friend again, thanks to burning that bridge in "True Colors," but she'll at least try to become a better person. She just needs to do one good thing in her life first.

Plus, whenever I see this image:

I’m reminded why I could never say that I didn’t like this show.

Grime Saving Sasha: A lesser viewer would say this cheapens Sasha's sacrifice, but not to me. She had no way of knowing Grime would save her, so to her, so this is still a bid decision to go through with, even if she couldn't have gone all the way. In no way does it take away from the sacrifice, just as much as it doesn't strike a chord deep in Anne's heart.

Anne Breaks Down: Because what else would she do?

It's true, Sasha isn't a good friend, and Anne would likely be better off without her. But that's not what Anne's thinking at this moment.

She's thinking about the good fun she had with her best friend.

She was thinking about the person she could lean on.

And she was thinking about how she almost lost this person forever.

So when it all comes crashing down on Anne at once, there's nothing left to do but cry. It is such a real moment that proves one thing: There was effort put into this finale.

IN CONCLUSION

Would I say Amphibia draws me in as much as The Owl House does? No. But it still has my respect. A finale like this proves how hard the writers try to give a good experience. Even if a Schmuck like me thinks that all the pieces don't come together, they still do all they can to make a beloved series.

Season Three is on the way, and while I'm not as hyped as others, I still can't wait to see how it ends. Because if "Reunion" taught me anything, this series really nails an ending.

(And if you want me to do a scene breakdown of the finale in "True Colors," I'll tell you now: I won't...alright, maybe I'll do something for the mid-season premiere. But no promises!)