#SS Needle

[vallouuu]

This took me five and a half hours 😪

[m3xyuu]

all the scenes for part 1 of PETRICHORD - an object show crossover x project sekai AU. also published as future weaved with regret.

rendering done by @joltning / flats and concepts done by m3xyuu (me!)

read more for character flats + all designs (minor spoilers) ⬇️

all the flats for the scenes! josie was fully in charge of backgrounds

and design references for all of the main characters!

characters are (left to right):

fan (inanimate insanity)

needle (battle for dream island)

leaf ball (supernova specialization)

pitcher (open source objects)

firey (battle for dream island)

firey's design belongs to ghostlyglooms (the author of the fic), pitcher's design belongs to joltning.

additionally ^_^ here are the (named) side characters that appear within the first part!

these ones are more obvious than the last but for good measure (and this time they're all from BFDI!):

coiny

pin

leafy

coiny and pin's designs are by ghostlyglooms. all uncredited designs are my own!

if you've made it this far: check out the toyhouse profiles for extra info, images, and the other units! beware of spoilers that are either currently AO3-exclusive or (only for non-petrichord characters) not revealed at all within the fics.

[sapphireswimming]

Oh the animatic I would create for Candela Obscura: Eye For An Eye if I could

To the tune of Take Me Out to the Ballgame:

Take me out: Sean, gun shouldered, leads the party down the darkening railroad tunnel To the ballgame: At the gate with the eye, Sean tosses a rope so they can climb over the wall Take me out: They don’t climb fast enough as the train approaches, Sean pulls out a grenade To the crowd: Sean blows up the gate, pulls Nathaniel through to safety at the last minute Buy me some peanuts: Everyone realizes the lighthouse is dead and they’re surrounded by many many eyes And cracker jacks: Auntie Bee starts scattering her bag of bloodied feed to distract the squid dogs I don’t care: Everyone else moves to the lighthouse while Sean holds off squid dogs with his gun-club If I never come back: Nathaniel orders Sean back, and he makes it up the rope just in time For it’s root: A rift in reality opens up, the huge creature pushes through with too-big hands and smile Root: Nathaniel collapses, a thread and blue ball rising out of his chest toward the creature Root: Marion pushes Auntie Bee out of the way then collapses, threadless For the home team: Auntie Bee grabs Jean and pulls her to the astrolabe as Sean stands firm If they don’t win: Jean flips through the book until Auntie B reaches out to steady her and nods It’s a shame: The creature smiles, its hand coming down like a cage over Marion For it’s one: Sean raises his gun and shoots, the flash fades to the image of a rushing river (in sepia) Two: Sean shoots, the flash fades to an image of a face behind a cracked door (in red) Three strikes: Jean moves her hands in arcane shapes to sew the rift closed You’re out: The creature rears back, disappearing back into the rift except for its severed hand In the old: A ghostly image of Jean’s father kisses her head, Auntie Bee comes to her side Ball: Nathan wakes, one eye white, while Sean pushes the hand away and kneels next to Marion Game: Marion wakes, gasping, then screams There's one final wide shot of the upside-down lighthouse's light coming back on and making a single sweep through the darkness

[seekforwarmth]

thanks for your support! ♡ buy me a coffee? fics ordered from newest to oldest.

໑ coming home harry/louis | E | 2k

It’s coming home, one way or another.

໑ spring in your eyes harry/louis | NR | 3k

“Just Go with It” inspired AU where plastic surgeon Harry pretends to be married to his assistant Louis to avoid unwanted attention.

໑ don’t let the fire die harry/louis | E | 8k

Harry makes a long trip to take back what is his.

໑ must be love louis/andrew garfield | NR | 6k

AU where Louis doesn’t know how to approach his neighbour, and Andrew keeps receiving homegrown vegetables at his door.

໑ could start a cult harry/louis | E | 8k

He lowers down the top that Louis is wearing, successfully unclasping his nursing bra as well, letting Louis’ tits bounce at the sudden movement. Harry massages both breasts to stimulate the milk flow, and he can feel his cock hardening inside his pants.

or...Harry can’t get enough of Louis’ breast milk.

໑ two languages, one love louis/cillian murphy | NR | 3k

The three times Louis speaks to Cillian in Spanish, and the one time he finally gets a response.

໑ Cold Spring louis/pedro pascal | E | 8k

Life went on as normal at Cold Spring Café. Sam’s scribbles remained indiscernible, Jake persisted on his idea of getting more pots for the shop, and Pedro…Pedro continued coming to drink his moderately-caffeinated americano, to write furiously in that notebook of his, and to captivate Louis to no end.

or…Louis is a coffee shop owner and Pedro is his newest customer.

໑ Harmony harry/louis | E | 6k

Alpha Harry and Omega Louis don’t have the most amicable relationship at work. When they get stuck together in an elevator, Harry scents Louis after nothing else works to bring him out of his panicked state.

Their time trapped in the elevator together brings to light some misunderstandings, and maybe some feelings for each other, too.

໑ bet on it louis/omc | E | 3k

“We should make a bet,” Louis says out loud, waiting for Dante to look up from his tablet and see Louis’ pouty lips.

“Not a fucking chance.”

or…a fic inspired by Louis at the barricade during AFHF.

໑ the embers are new harry/louis | NR | 3k

Louis is a dragon vet whose life is changed after a long trip.

໑ seven, seven harry/louis | NR | 1k

“Hello, baby girl,” Harry says as soon as the nurse places the bundle of joy into his arms. “We’ve been dying to meet you.”

໑ fuck around, find out harry/louis | E | 6k

Harry is a renowned chef convinced he’ll be the one to make Louis like avocado. It doesn’t end well.

໑ Devoted louis/alisson becker | E | 5k

A collection of drabbles about Louis’ life as the housewife of a professional football player.

໑ ready for a war harry/louis | E | 1k

Harry was so close to getting caught, and it was all on that stupidly pretty cocktail waiter.

໑ find our place  louis/zayn | NR | 3k

“Fuck!” Louis says as he hangs up the phone and turns it off. He hopes the call didn’t connect, otherwise he would have to change his number. Again.

໑ over my shoulder louis/sebastian stan | E | 11k

The media thinks omega singer Louis Tomlinson is dating alpha actor Sebastian Stan because they bump into each other all the time.

Everything changes when they accidentally bond.

໑ Needle harry/louis | NR | 666

“You didn’t deserve this,” he muttered between hiccups. “She didn’t have the right.”

໑ reckless behaviour harry/louis | E | 13k

Harry is a retired football player looking for a new opportunity. Louis is the image consultant hired to help him find it.

໑ Monday harry/louis | NR | 2k

A flower shop AU featuring a one-sided feud, puns, and a missing cat.

໑ more than that harry/louis | NR | 3k

Harry looks for the best bread in France. He finds Louis.

໑ beg me silently harry/louis | E | 2k

“So, your boyfriend…is he planning a magic night for you at home?”

Louis snorts. “He’s not, actually. He’s pretty hardworking, you see, so he comes home late.”

“Such a shame.” Harry walks towards Louis, so close that they’re sharing the same space. “You’re so beautiful, Louis. If you were mine, I wouldn’t make you wait for me.”

໑ Thank you, five. harry/louis | E | 5k

“Harry?” He says as soon as he recognises the other man.

“Louis? Wh-what are you doing here?” Harry asks with a frown.

“Well, I’m here for rehearsal,” Louis announces with a proud smile.

There’s a flash of confusion on Harry’s face. “What do you mean rehearsal? I got the part, you didn’t.”

~

Prompt 195: Hamilton AU

໑ until you’re home harry/louis | E | 1k

Louis lives in London, Harry lives in Tokyo. They make it work.

໑ lying close to you harry/louis | NR | 2k

Harry’s been living for twenty-five years but he’s only felt alive for the past two.

[marketing-features]

Unveiling Pedlock: Leading SS Needle Valve Manufacturer in India

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Conclusion

Pedlock's reputation as a leading SS needle valve manufacturer in Chennai, Mumbai, Ahmedabad, Bangalore, Vadodara, Gujarat, Rajasthan, Delhi, and Ghaziabad in India is well-deserved. Their commitment to quality, innovation, and customer satisfaction sets them apart in the competitive market. Whether you're in the oil and gas sector, chemical processing, pharmaceuticals, or food and beverage industry, Pedlock has the right solution for your flow control needs. Trust Pedlock for precision engineered, reliable, and durable SS needle valves that stand the test of time.

[arcellorcontrols]

Ultimate Guide to Instrument Valves and Their Suppliers

Ultimate Guide to Instrument Valves and Their Suppliers 

Instrumentation valves are a fundamental cornerstone in the realm of industrial instrumentation, serving as the linchpin for numerous critical processes and systems, where precision and control are paramount. At Arcellor Controls India, we take immense pride in our standing as a premier manufacturer and exporter of instrumentation valves. Our extensive product range encompasses various types of valves in instrumentation, fulfilling the diverse needs of projects. As a distinguished instrumentation valves manufacturer, we supply top-tier instrument valves to meet your requirements, offering an array of sizes, specifications, standards, grades, materials, and types. Our portfolio includes SS Needle Valves, showcasing our commitment to excellence in this niche. When it comes to instrument valves, Arcellor Controls India is your trusted partner and Needle Valve manufacturer, delivering superior quality solutions for your instrumentation needs.

In this comprehensive guide, we will delve into the world of Instrument Valves, exploring their types, applications, and the value we bring as a trusted supplier to numerous countries worldwide.

Understanding Instrument Valves

Instrument Valves are specifically designed to control and regulate the flow of fluids and gases within a system. These valves are characterised by their precision and the ability to handle a wide range of pressures and temperatures. They are vital in a variety of industries, including oil and gas, petrochemicals, pharmaceuticals, and more.

Types of Instrument Valves

Instrument Valves come in a variety of types, each suited for specific applications. With us, we offer an extensive range of Instrument Valves, including:

Needle Valves: Designed for fine control, Needle Valves are commonly used in applications requiring precise flow regulation.

Ball Valves: Known for their durability and reliability, Ball Valves are ideal for shut-off and isolation in high-pressure systems.

Gate Valves: Gate Valves are used for on-off control and are best suited for applications with minimal changes in flow.

Globe Valves: Globe Valves provide excellent control over flow and are often used in applications where throttling is required.

Manifold Valves: These valves allow multiple instruments to be connected to a single source, simplifying control in complex systems.

Check Valves: Designed to prevent backflow, Check Valves are crucial for maintaining the direction of fluid flow.

Monoflanges Valves: Monoflanges Valves combine isolation, calibration, and venting functions in a single unit, making them highly efficient.

Valve Accessories: Accessories such as handles, actuators, and positioners enhance the performance and functionality of Instrument Valves.

Applications of Instrument Valves

Instrument Valves find applications in a wide range of industries, including:

Process Control

Measurement and Calibration

Analytical Instruments

Hydraulic Systems

Pneumatic Systems

Oil and Gas Industry

Power Generation

Water and Wastewater Treatment

Food and Beverage Industry

Pharmaceutical Industry

Aerospace and Automotive Manufacturing

Environmental Monitoring

Other Applications

Final Words!

Instrument Valves are a vital component in various industrial processes, and selecting the right supplier is crucial to ensure the success of your projects. Arcellor Controls India, as the leading Instrument Valves manufacturer and exporter, offers a wide range of high-quality valves and accessories, backed by a commitment to quality. Moreover, we are also a well-known Instrument Valves exporter in various countries including India, Oman, Qatar, the USA, Germany, the UK, Brazil, Turkey, UAE, Indonesia, and Saudi Arabia at the most competitive price in the market! When you choose us as your Instrument valve supplier, you're making a choice that ensures precision, safety, and reliability in your operations.

[darkbluekies]

GOLDEN TRIAL PT1: In the belly of the beast

Part 2

Yandere!mafia x yandere!female!mafia x female!yandere x yandere!king x yandere!doctor x male!detective!reader

Summary: Its 1935 and you've been sent on the Liner Normandie to retrieve a stolen painting. You have six suspects and the clock is ticking — you only have four days before the ship reaches New York to find it. But soon, you find yourself caught up in something even more serious than you could have believed.

Warnings: getting hit in the head with a bottle, kidnapping, mentions of drugging, stalker behavior, light misogyny(?), guns, needles, violence

Word count: 11.7k

DAY 1 — Debark

The ship towers over you like a mad giant. Gray smoke rises from the two forward funnels. It’s the biggest in the world, bigger than any man made object that can float. You shake your head. Focus. You’re not here for pleasure. You continue your way over to the terminal. The agency sent you in hopes of finding the lost painting, no one else. You need to stay focused, they’re counting on you.

Without questioning, you give the fake ID to the man behind the desk. When you had started out as an agent, you were always nervous that your covers would be blown and you would be found out. Nowadays, you’ve noticed that if you look nervous, risk are that you’ll be asked questions. 

You walk over the gangway with your bag in hand. You have just above four days to find the painting — a very famous portrait of a woman with her head slightly turned to the viewer, wearing a big, blank pearl earring. It was stolen from the Mauritshuis in the Netherlands two weeks ago, and details have revealed that it has been taken to France, and will be moved to America on the SS Normandie. The painting itself isn’t insanely big, but the fuss about it’s disappearance is. You have to find it at all cost. 

Before you got here, you had time to take a look at the passenger list. There are six people you recognise, where of five could be your potential smugglers. 

Silas Achilleos, a mob boss wanted by the police, and his second in command. A man like him was probably not interested in paintings, but he could have clients who did. And those could pay him heaps of money. 

Edmund of Vesanus, a young king who likes the bachelor life. He surrounds himself with loads of women and alcohol, partying like nothing matters. He would take the painting because he doesn’t want anyone else to have it. He’s traveling with his doctor, a certain Karl Kry who you don’t know much about. 

Hedwig Carter, a young heiress who’s father is noble, and who's mother is famous in the acting business is traveling with a young woman named Jerry Kim, someone you guess is Hedwig’s chaperone. Hedwig is known for getting whatever she wants with a snap of her fingers, and if she wants a painting … she will get it. Jerry, however, does not have much information out in the open. Everything about her before she started to work for Hedwig is wiped away. You want to know who she is and where she comes from, and what she would want a painting for.

You walk down the stairs to your cabin on A-deck and start to pack up, using the second bed in the room to store your bag. After settling in, you decide to take a look around this magnificent vessel to get familiar with it. You make your way up to the promenade deck and give the open cinema by the stairs a quick look. You guess that they’re going to put on movies once the ship reaches open water. If you’re lucky you’ll see something interesting. And hopefully, you have the time to watch it. 

The promenade is enclosed decorated with a gray floor, comfortable deck chairs and clear windows. A line in the tricolor fashion runs along the floor, as if to show where to walk. You walk on the line, flashing a little childish smile. You’ve left Le Havre and are on your way out towards the Atlantic’s open arms. The clock is ticking. 

Your eyes lock onto someone walking towards you and you immediately realize that it is Hedwig and her chaperone, an east asian girl … wearing pants and a long sleeved shirt. You don’t realize how obvious it is that you’re staring until the woman opens her mouth and you realize that they’ve stopped right in front of you. 

“What are you staring at, sir?” she asks, raising her eyebrows and putting her hands in her pockets. “If you want to say something, do it.”

“No—no, sorry”, you say quickly, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I didn’t mean to stare.”

“Tell me, do you approve of women who wear pants?” 

It sure looks weird, but is it? When you think about it, aren't pants just pieces of the same fabric as skirts, just sewn differently?

“Uh, I … suppose so.”

To that, Jerry nods approvingly.

“I don’t see why only men should wear pants”, she says.

“Well, I don't feel comfortable wearing them”, Hedwig chuckles nervously and smiles softly. “But they fit you, Jerry. They really do.”

“You must be miss Carter”, you say, as if you don't know, and shake her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, please call me Hedwig! Who are you?” 

“I’m Axel Ainsworth, I'm in the art industry.”

Hedwig’s smile widens. “That is very interesting, I love art. Especially portraits. Capturing humanity’s differences and details are magical. Don’t you think so, Jerry?”

“I’m more for that new thing — surrealism, I think it’s called — where everything is here and there and weird to believe”, Jerry says, shrugging. “But portraits can be okay too, depending on what type.” 

Hedwig has turned her eyes to you, glued them onto you as if you are the only thing she could ever see. “Are you traveling alone, mister Ainsworth?” she asks. 

You have remembered your entire forged background and learned it skillfully. Even your fake name rolls off the tongue as smoothly as if it was your real name. You're traveling alone because you're on your way home to your fiancé from a business trip. 

“I see”, Hedwig smiles and turns to the woman next to her. “Let me introduce you to my chaperone, miss Jerry Kim. You're always welcome to sit with us during dinner. We'd be more than happy to accompany you.”

“I'm grateful to know that, miss.”

With that said, the two women walk away. You frown and sigh. Hedwig seems like a very sweet young woman, it’d be a shame if it was her who was the culprit. Her chaperone, on the other hand, gives you weird vibes. Something about the look in her eyes … as if she’s looking right through you, scanning you. 

You continue down the promenade until you turn into the Winter Garden, a half moon-shaped room full of plants and lamps and big, wide windows, overlooking the special shaped bow that has given Normandie the speed it has. Passengers have already started gathering in the Winter Garden to talk to friends and family and watch how Normandie makes her way out onto the Atlantic. None of them resembles the men you’re looking for. You continue your way through the ship, eventually finding yourself in the smoking room on the embarkment deck, where you had stepped onto the ship. You had only glanced at the room before, but now when you’re standing in the smoking room — and very well the lounge since they’re connected — you realize how stupid you must have been to miss it. There must be ten meters up to the ceiling, you think, and bigger than a concert hall. A long, grey staircase leads up to the outside deck. The art deco interior is modern and sleek, but the whip overall has a classic, conservative design that reminds you of the great liners of the old age. You sigh while thinking of the Mauretania and the Olympic, Britain's biggest rivals which now are laid up in Jarrowtown, side by side, ready to be scrapped. There’s something melancholy about it all, and at the same time something beautiful, starting as enemies and now ending it all under the same flag, together. 

You shake your head. Focus. Your eyes catch someone standing by the windows, someone very familiar. Silas and his right hand man. You move closer, trying to hear what they’re talking about.

“I’m not complaining, I just think that it is annoying that it has to take four days to get to America”, Silas mutters and takes a whiff off his cigar. 

“Any other ship would take double the time, sir”, his second in command says apologetically. “I doublechecked.”

“I don’t like being in one place for too long.”

“See it as a vacation. You’re deserving of it. Let’s enjoy some good food, alcohol and some company. It’ll do you good.”

“I don’t like to be in one place too long. Especially when we know that they're on board!”

You furrow your brows. Who?

“Nothing will happen.”

Silas hums and smokes again. You’ve stood by the windows a few meters away, pretending to be interested in the horizon. Silas turns his eyes to you. 

“You, sir”, he says, pointing at you with his cigar. 

You look away from the ocean. Both Silas and his second in command have turned to you, their dark eyes looking right at you. 

“Yes?” you ask. 

“Is it true that the Normandie keeps her speed?” Silas asks. “No matter the weather?”

“I believe so, sir.”

Silas nods in satisfaction. “Good.”

You decide to try to get some information out of him. You know who he is, but he doesn’t know who you are, doesn’t know that you’re out to get him. To him, you’re just another first class passenger. 

“Are you in a hurry?” you wonder. 

“You could say that”, Silas sighs and turns his eyes out the window again. 

You hold out your hand. “I’m Axel Ainsworth.”

Silas second in command gives him a short look before his boss shakes your hand. His grip is hard, firm. 

“You can call me Silas”, he says. “No need for a surname.” He takes another blow on the cigar. “What brings you out on the ocean like this?”

“I’ve been on a business trip, but now I’m going home to my fiancé”, you say, pretending to smile at the thought of your made up fiancé.

“What business are you in?”

“Art.”

Silas lifts one of black his eyebrows. “Art?”

His second in command straightens his back. 

“Yes, sir”, you say. 

“Are you a … painter?” Silas wonders. 

“God no, I can’t handle a brush even if my life depended on it. I’m an art trader, I help people sell their paintings for the right price.”

“I see. Well, one can’t do everything.” He blows a cloud of smoke. “Have you traveled on this ship before, Axel?”

“No, it’s my first time. But I’m not unfamiliar with the ocean, I used to travel a lot on the older ships in my younger days.”

“Then I suppose you have a favorite?”

You think for a second. “I did like that Cunarder, the Lusitania … such a shame Germany sunk it.”

“You never know which ships are safe or not, just look at that Titanic fiasco. They thought it was the safest ship afloat. Yeah, sure it was.” Silas shrugs. “Wouldn’t surprise if this peace of junk also sinks. Why wouldn’t it?”

“Well …”

Silas’s second in command taps him on the shoulder and whispers something in his ear. Silas frowns and nods before turning to you. 

“It was nice speaking with you, but I have some business to deal with”, he says shortly. 

“Have a good day”, you say. 

Silas nods politely and leaves. You follow him and his second in command with your eyes until they’ve left the smoking room. He was nicer than you had anticipated. 

Your next suspect, you find in the dining hall that evening. You’ve met up with Hedwig and Jerry in the reception. Hedwig is wearing a pink evening gown with pink gloves. Her honey blonde hair is curled and put up with hairpins. Jerry is wearing a dark purple, sleeveless dress, showing a couple tattoos. In her short, black hair, there’s a little decoration that reminds you of a flower. She's wearing dark lipstick, in contrast to Hedwig who wears a Hollywood red.

“They wouldn’t let me in unless I dressed ladylike”, she mutters. 

“I think that you look gorgeous, Jerry”, Hedwig smiles and takes her hand. 

“I guess that it isn’t that bad.”

“I like your tattoos”, you say. “Where did you get them from?”

“A tattoo artist, of course.” She then twists her arm to show something on the inner side of her bicep. “Okay, I made this one myself.”

You step closer, seeing a small heart tattooed on her arm. 

“That’s cute”, you smile. 

“Thank you”, Jerry smiles smugly. “Hurts like hell though.”

“I can imagine.”

The stewards allow you into the dining room and — for what feels like the thousand time today — you’re amazed by the interior. Silver walls with golden ceiling and art decor wherever you could see. In the middle of the long dining hall, there’s a gigantic, golden statue of a woman. 

Hedwig and Jerry leads you to a table and sit down. That’s when you see your last suspects. They’re walking through the dining hall, dressed in tuxedos. The king can’t be more than twenty years old. His doctor is a minimum of fifteen years older. 

“You son of a bitch”, he says suddenly and looks at the table you’re sitting at. “Hedwig?”

Hedwig’s eyes widen in shock.

“Edmund, what are you doing here?” she asks with a smile. “Sit with us, please.”

The king and his doctor sit down at your table. 

“Good evening”, the blonde doctor says and shakes yours and Jerry's hand before introducing himself. “I’m Doctor Kry.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Axel Ainsworth”, you say. 

“This is king Edmund.”

You’re about to shake his hand, but Doctor Kry removes your hand. 

“I’m sorry, but he doesn’t shake people’s hands”, he whispers. 

“Oh, I see”, you say. 

The king gives you a bored look. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, your majesty”, you tell him politely. 

“How do you know Hedwig?” he asks shortly. “I haven’t seen you before.”

“We met today”, Hedwig smiles. “Axel, Edmund is my relative. It’s been months since we last saw each other.”

“I’ve told you to visit.”

“I know.”

“Are you that much of a hypochondriac that you need a doctor to accompany you while you’re traveling?” Jerry chuckles. 

“What are you doing here, Jerry?” Edmund mutters coldly. 

“She’s my chaperone”, Hedwig explains.

“Oh fuck me.”

“Your majesty, maybe you should think about your language”, Doctor Kry says. “We are around others.”

Edmund rolls his eyes before looking at you in a bored manner. 

“Tell me”, he says, “where do you come from, mister Ainsworth?”

You ramble your rehearsed background. Edmund nods along with you.

“I’ve always wanted to visit that place”, Doctor Kry says. “I’ve heard that it is a beautiful city.”

“It is”, you say. 

“And now you’re going to America”, Edmund says. “What were you doing in France?”

“I was on a business trip.”

“What type?”

It strikes you as odd. He doesn’t sound interested, but still he asks you curious questions. 

“I’m in the art business”, you say.

“What for?” Edmund wonders.

“Art is beautiful and should be getting what it is worth.”

“I like art”, Doctor Kry. “I would do anything to see the Mona Lisa.”

“Why didn’t you visit it when you were in France?” Hedwig wonders. 

“We didn’t have time … Edmund didn’t want to go there.”

“Why should I squash together with other people to see paintings?” Edmund scoffs. “If I want to see a painting, I get it for myself. That’s that.”

“But do you like art, your majesty?” you ask. 

“Everyone likes art”, Edmund replies nonchalantly. “That’s what gives life meaning.”

“Have you read a certain story, Edmund, called ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray’?” Jerry asks with a teasing smile. “Thought that it’d fit you.”

The story is about a man who wants nothing more than to remain youthful … to the point where he has a painting of himself where all of his sins can be seen. In the end, the picture is as gruesome as can be, but Dorian himself is as youthful as he started.

“Oh, shut up, Jerry”, Edmund mutters angrily. “One day, I’ll teach you manners, believe me.”

Jerry smirks. 

You eat dinner together with the young king and the doctor. Afterward, to soothe your aching stomach, the five of you walk up to the outside promenade deck to get some fresh air. You strut under the lifeboats, under the stars. Above you, a big luminous sign spells out the name 'NORMANDIE’, casting a soft light on you. Doctor Kry has lent his blazer to Hedwig, and you’ve tried to offer yours to Jerry who refused before you had the time to open your mouth.

“Ladies, I think it’s time for you to retreat”, Edmund says, sounding sweeter than before. “It’s starting to get late.”

“The evening is young”, Jerry insists. 

“I’m tired”, Hedwig yawns.  

“Jerry, be a good girl and bring Hedwig to your cabin”, Edmund grits. “Please. I’m not fighting with you again.”

Jerry rolls her eyes, removes the doctor’s blazer and tells you goodnight. Hedwig gives you and Edmund a hug. Her flowery perfume clogs up your nose, dulls your head for a moment. The three of you wish the girls a pleasant evening and continue walking. 

“Hedwig is a stupid girl”, Edmund says, strolling slowly. “One can’t help but want to take care of her.”

“She seems very sweet”, you admit. 

“She is. Just very naive. I’ve promised her father that I’m going to take care of her whenever I meet her.”

“Her chaperone is … interesting”, Doctor Kry remarks. 

“God, yes, I hate her!”

“What is it about her that you don’t like?” you ask curiously. 

“I do not like girls like her. Did you see her tattoos? She often walks around in man’s clothing and I don’t think it’s fitting for a woman — especially someone that is close to my relative. I don’t want her influencing Hedwig.”

“I don’t think you have to worry, your majesty”, Doctor Kry says calmly. “I think Hedwig is going to be okay.”

“If there’s one thing I’m glad for, it is that Hedwig is predictable.” He groans. “I need a cigar. Let’s go to the smoking room.” Edmund turns around to give you a look. “Axel, are you joining?” 

“I don’t know”, you reply. “It’s the first day, I’m still tired from embarking.”

“Don’t tell me that you’re going to bed now.” He looks at his expensive watch. “The clock is ten. Stay one hour.”

You give up and follow them to the smoking room. Maybe it is for the best. If you want to get close to them, you’ll need to spend as much time observing them as you can. 

Sitting with them in the smoking room, you find that Silas and his second in command aren't here among the other men. You frown, thinking that they would be here since they were earlier. 

When you’re allowed to leave, two hours later, your mind is fogged up by smoke and whiskey. You make your way through the empty corridors to your cabin, closing and locking it behind you. Tiredly, you sink down on your bed and sigh out. You have observed them, and talked with them the entire day, and yet you haven’t figured out who could be hiding the painting. They all seem interested in art. They all could have taken it. 

There's so many questions. What kind of doctor is Kry? Where did Jerry come from and why is there no information about her? Why would someone like Hedwig hire her as her chaperone? And who is that person that Silas doesn't want on board? Is there someone you haven't accounted for, someone else that can have stolen the painting?

You hide your face in your hands and groan. Three days left.

DAY 2 — Sea

You wake up early, get ready and head out into the corridor. You lock the cabin door behind you, feeling the handle to make sure that it is locked and make your way to the Winter Garden to have a cup of coffee. The large windows give you a wide view of the calm ocean. The sun rises up from the blue water in a magical sense that has you hypnotized. It's all so very quiet and relaxing.

After your cup of coffee, you stretch your muscles, and contemplate going down to the swimming pool to take a few laps, to warm up your muscles and clear your head for the day's work. You pay the purser and make your way down to the swimming pool on D deck. The tile walls are covered with art that reminds you of ancient Greece and the new, abstract type of paint. The pool itself was formed as a long rectangle with curved corners, green steel ladders, and a steep and a shallow part. Throughout the shallow part, there were thick, dull spikes, likely to stop children from going out into the deep end. 

Despite being the early hours of the first morning on board, someone is already in the water. Doctor Kry.

“Good morning”, he says. “You’re up early.”

“So are you”, you reply.

“I always need to clear my head before starting the day.”

“What about the king? Is he swimming too?”

“Don't kid around. He doesn’t wake up until nine. I wouldn’t be able to get him out of bed before that anyways. He’s a very deep sleeper and hates getting woken up.”

You feel your heart skip a beat. 

“Where do you have your cabin?” you ask. 

“On the promenade deck, one of the suites. A-54.”

Bingo. 

“Why do you ask?” Doctor Kry wonders.

“I was just thinking that since the king doesn't want to be disturbed, choosing the right cabin place is important.”

“Did we choose a good cabin then?”

You nod, despite not knowing a single thing about cabin placements. The only thing you're aware of is to be as far away from the noisy engine room as possible.

Perhaps if you asked the purser, you could get the number of the other cabins. He, if anyone, should have the passenger list. 

You glance back at Doctor Kry who's still hanging by the side of the pool. This is your time to investigate him. You slowly get into the water.

“Such a shame that you didn't get to visit the Mona Lisa”, you say as you start to swim. “It's a very pretty painting.”

“So I've heard”, Doctor Kry says slowly.

“My favorite painting is ‘the girl with the pearl earrings’, have you had the opportunity to see it?”

He's quiet for a second.

“I haven't”, he says, sounding low. “I guess that, an art trader like you, must be troubled by its disappearance.”

“Of course”, you answer.  

At this point, a detective and an art trader don't seem like different things, especially since both would be looking for the same thing.

“Can I ask you something?” you wonder.

“It depends”, Doctor Kry says. “Go ahead.”

“Forgive me for being nosy, but why doesn't his majesty like Jerry?”

“He is very old fashioned. He doesn't think that women should be dressed in pants or have tattoos. Edmund is very self centered, yes, but he's also very possessive of the ones he holds dear — example being miss Hedwig. As you may know, his parents were murdered by enemies to the monarchy and ever since, the only relatives that have been in his life have been Hedwig and her family. They're very close in age too — Hedwig being eighteen and Edmund nineteen — which has been a very important thing for him. He sees her as a friend, maybe his only friend. So having someone that could potentially blemish his friend and only family is a threat to Edmund.”

“Then why does Hedwig have Jerry?”

“I don't know. It could be because of a teenage revolt. Jerry is different to everything that Hedwig has ever known … and now that she's eighteen she might want to try something new.”

“Do you think that Edmund is worried about her? Because of Jerry?”

“I wouldn't say worried, because the only thing the king worries about is himself, but I think that there's something along those lines. I think that he sees Hedwig as an extended part of himself rather than her own person.”

You nod carefully.

“I wonder where Hedwig found Jerry”  you say. “How someone like her could get the job as Hedwig’s chaperone. Do you know where she comes from?”

Doctors Kry suddenly laughs.

“You ask an awful amount of questions this early in the morning”, he says and gets out of the water. “I'm sorry, I don't have more answers for you, Axel.”

You look up at him, where he stands on the tile floor. He looks down at you with a small smirk.

“You remind me of a little boy”, he says and lowers his eyes onto your physic. “You're awfully trained to be an art trader. One could think that you were an Olympian.”

“Shouldn't a doctor be pleased that I am taking care of myself?”

“I am. You look good, healthy.  Just found it humorous.” He wipes away a few drops of water trying to go into his blue eyes. “I suppose that I will see you later. Goodbye, Axel.”

“Goodbye.”

You decide to do a few more laps around the swimming pool before getting up and drying yourself. Tomorrow morning, you will sneak into Edmund’s and Doctor Kry’s cabin to see if the painting is in there. But for now, you need to go to the purser. 

You change into your suit. In the front pocket, you keep a little commonplace book to take notes. You  make your way back to the pursers office. The man behind the desk gives you a service smile and asks how he can help you. 

“Do you happen to have the passenger list?” you ask. “I would like to know where some people’s cabins are located.”

“What is your name?” the purser wonders. 

“Axel Ainsworth.”

“Who are you wanting to find?”

“Hedwig Carter and Silas Achilleos.”

The purser disappears into his office. You wait impatiently, suddenly feeling watched. Carefully, you glance over your shoulder, but the only ones in eyesight are two men who are conversing. The purser returns. You fish out your notebook, ready to note it down. 

“Miss Carter has cabin B-23 and Mister Achilleos has cabin A-11.”

You write it down. “Thank you.”

With that said, you leave to go to the staircase. You’re not sure where to go, so you decide to take a stroll down the enclosed promenade while thinking. Doctor Kry knows more, you think, but he doesn’t want to tell. 

You sit down on one of the deck chairs to write down what you have gotten to know, so that you won’t forget any important information. You write down the suspects' motives to steal the painting, Silas’s weird enemy, their relation to each other — which only connects Edmund, Kry, Jerry and Hedwig — as well as the answers that you have gotten from Doctor Kry earlier today. Who has the painting? Your first instinct says that Doctor Kry doesn’t have it, because he’s not interested in that painting. Had it been the Mona Lisa, things would have been different, but this painting doesn’t interest him. That doesn’t mean that the painting couldn’t be in his room, though, because Edmund could still want to have it. 

You stand up after a while and continue walking. Your eyes fixate on something in the distance. A woman dressed in pants talking to a man in a suit that seems to be hiding in the corner of the promenade. You frown. 

What does Jerry have to do with Silas's second in command? 

You want to move closer, but you don’t want to expose yourself. You’ll have to change the relations in your notes, because there’s clearly something more than you’ve been led to know. 

What if Jerry’s lack of background has something to do with the mafia? It would explain her tattoos … that or being a sailor. But because of what you've just witnessed you can most likely scratch the latter. A shiver runs down your spine. If Jerry is dangerous, then Hedwig could be too. You stop in your tracks. Hedwig? Really? Edmund said it himself, she's a stupid, naive girl. Could she be dangerous?

You walk up to the open deck in the stern of the first class accommodations where you find a few kids playing something reminding you of curling. You sit down on the zig-zag benches placed out on the deck and watch them. They notice you looking and ask you to join them, so you do. You decide that maybe you can pleasure yourself in a harmless children's game for a few minutes, and continue the mission after.

When lunchtime rolls around, you make your way down to the dining hall. It's emptier than yesterday evening. You find Silas and his second in command sit by a table. Silas notices you and waves you over. Your feet bring you to him.

“Sorry to cut our talk short yesterday, Axel”, he says politely and gesticulates at the chair in front of him. “Sit down. Let me buy you lunch.”

And so, he does. You sit down and try your best not to glance at the second in command who’s black eyes burn through you. Your stomach twists. 

You both get lamb, something you have eaten many times before. Still, it tastes better at sea.

“What did you say that you were here for again?” Silas asks suddenly as he’s cutting his meat.

His voice sounds different from yesterday. You clear your throat to make sure that your voice won’t shiver.

“I’ve been on a business trip”, you say. “And now I’m going home.”

“Yes, yes, I know that. What I mean is that you didn’t tell me why you were in France. What kind of business trip was it? What did you do? I know that you were there for art, but what do one do on an art business trip? You have to forgive me for being curious.”

“I was meeting some people from the Louvre.”

“I see. About what?”

“Art’s future, how to make sure they don’t break or smudge or get tainted by the sun. And how to protect them. You must have heard about ‘the girl with the pearl earrings’ missing?”

“Yes, of course. Isn’t it weird that someone would steal that painting? Why not a Monet painting? Or the Mona lisa?”

“I don’t know. Maybe taking one of them would be too big of a deal. Maybe the one taking the painting thought that since it isn’t one of the most cherished, they’d have an easier time taking it … that the commotion about it would die out sooner or later.”

“Perhaps.” 

You’ve noticed that you haven’t heard the second in command’s voice at all, beside the talk he had with Silas yesterday. He doesn’t speak to anyone else than Silas … and Jerry. You still don’t dare look at him, scared that he will see right through you and know that you’ve seen him talk to her. You wonder what they were talking about.

“Did you have a good time yesterday?” Silas asks.

“Yes, I did”, you reply.

“Did you meet someone?”

“No, I didn’t. I chit-chatted with some people here and there, but kept mostly to myself.”

“You do good in that. You never know who you can trust on a big ship as this. You never know who wants you good or not.”

“Why are you traveling, Silas?” you ask innocently. “You said that you were impatient to get to America. Is there a reason?”

“Of course. Everything has a reason. But I don’t think I can share that with you. At least I shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

Silas turns his black eyes to you and smiles slightly. His hungry gaze makes you freeze. He had seemed so sweet yesterday, but you finally see a slice of what makes him so terrifying. 

“Because someone like you shouldn’t know that”, he smiles. 

“I understand”, you say and take a piece of food into your mouth, to avoid speaking further.

“You have to excuse my man here”, Silas says and nods at his second in command. “He’s the shy type. He goes wherever I go, so you have to get used to him.”

“Is he your bodyguard?” you wonder. 

“You could say that. But I’m always prepared in case someone wants to attack me.”

He opens his blazer, showing you a revolver tucked into the fabric. You have your own in your suitcase. Walking around with it feels too risky, but maybe you’ll have to go get it. In case anything happens.

After lunch, you’re left with a weird feeling in your stomach. You have talked with him for an hour, about everything between heaven and earth … and yet it feels like you have been having two conversations in one — one on the surface and one real. 

You walk to your cabin and press down the door handle and walk into the room. The first thing that strikes you as odd is that there’s a new smell in the air. A flowery scent. You can swear that you have felt it before. Without a second to waste, you open your bag and pick up your gun, putting it in your suit. Quickly, you turn around, realizing something. Didn’t you lock the door when you went out this morning?

That evening, you spend dinner with the two girls and stay in the smoking room with Edmund for what feels like an eternity. Edmund wants to play a deck of cards with you. He seems a bit more relaxed than yesterday and even smiles a bit. 

After your games against Edmund, you decide to retreat. You walk down the long, dimly lit corridor. The narrow spaces feel almost ominous at night time, although barely any daylight reaches here at daytime either. You glance over your shoulder every tenth step, hesitating, can't help but feel watched. Your hand reaches for your gun, but before you have time to get it, someone reaches up behind you and smashes something heavy in your head. Everything turns black.

DAY 3 — SEA

“He's waking up.”

Your eyes feel like lead, and your head is even heavier. It takes a few tries to open your eyes and when you finally manage to, you want nothing more than to close them again. For a few seconds, you wonder if you're dreaming. They're all here, looking down at you. You look around and notice that they've tied your hands and feet, and left you on the floor at the end of the bed, with your back against the footrest.

You catch a glimpse of the clock on the wall. Just a bit past one in the morning. The third day has begun. You have been blacked out for three hours.

Your head is pounding, making it hard to think clearly.

Jerry bends down, grabs your chin and turns your head back and forth to inspect the damage caused on your head.

“He'll live”, she says and gives your cheek a quick, but harsh, tap.

“Well, well, Y/N”, Silas says, smirking. “You're a bit nosy aren't you?”

The mention of your name causes you to twitch and widen your eyes. In your dulled stage, you wonder if you've heard wrong, but the smirk in their faces confirm that you have, indeed, not lost your hearing.

“So, you were the agent”, Silas continues and shrugs. “I gotta admit, I was hoping that it wasn't you.”

“You were smart-”, Doctor Kry starts. 

“But not smart enough”, Edmund cuts him off sharply with his arms crossed over his chest. “���Art dealer’, yeah, sure. A detective dealing with art. That's not the same, Y/N, if you didn't know that.”

Silas picks up something from his pocket, a small commonplace book. 

“‘Suspects are all interested in art, could be any of them’”, he reads out loud. “‘J involved with S? Talked with SIC.’ Jerry? Involved with me? Talked with my second in command? You seem to have it all written down.”

“I was involved with Silas”, Jerry says. “I know his second in command very well.”

“How—How did you … know?” you ask, baffled. “Were you all in on it?”

“Not from the start, no”, Doctor Kry says. “I only knew Edmund and had met Hedwig before. I didn’t even know Jerry, Silas or his second in command.”

You quickly realize that Jerry is the linking chain between them. She linked Hedwig, Edmund and Kry to Silas and his second in command. 

“I had already been informed and knew that there would be someone on this ship out to get me”, Silas says. “I heard that Jerry was on board and caught up with her. She told me that she and Hedwig had met you. It was her that thought it was weird that you asked all of us about art. My men dug, and found out your real identity. My men saw you speaking with the purser, hearing you ask for our cabins and decided to tell it all to me and my second in command, who told Jerry … who told the others.”

“You have more men?” you ask and can’t hide how shocked you get.

“Of course. You don’t think I would go on board with only one man? Do you think I'm stupid, darling? You, on the other hand, probably should have had someone, at least.” 

“Awfully inconsiderate of your bosses, don't you think, to send you all alone?” Jerry says.

“You were looking for this, weren’t you?” Edmund asks and pulls out something from a wooden box behind him. 

You stare at it with wide eyes. The painting.

“Who—Who had it?” you can’t help but question, gulping between the first word. 

“Me, of course”, Edmund says with an offended, yet proud scoff. “It will do nicely in my castle.”

“Now, little Y/N, you know”, Silas says. “Are you happy now? Your mystery is solved.”

Your head hurts too much to answer. You’re not sure if you’re happy. You have learned where the painting disappeared, but you’re tied and hurt, and in the enemies’ grasp. A mixed bag, so to say. 

“I can’t watch the blood”, Hedwig suddenly says and stands up from the armchair she's sitting on. 

She has been the only one that hasn’t smirked at you and seems genuinely apologetic that you're here, but you don't trust that damsel in distress look anymore. She pushes through the others to reach you with a wet handkerchief in her hands. Carefully, she kneels down in front of you and wipes the wet cloth against your forehead. She wipes away the dried blood gently.

“What are you going to do now?” you spit, coming your head to the side. “Throw me overboard?”

“Not exactly”, Silas says, smiling menacingly. 

“Not yet, at least”, Jerry says, grinning.

“If I don't meet my contact in New York, people will know that something has happened to me”, you say coldly. “They'll hunt you down.”

“Oh, will they now? I didn't realize that we had stolen their golden boy.” Silas's cruel smile widens. “Well, Golden Boy, plans seem to have changed.”

You glare at him in confusion. Silas pets your head twice and you hiss at the painful touch. Whatever they hit you with, it must have caused a gigantic bruise.

“Seems like we have to keep you for a while”, he says. “But you will have to stay in here, I’m afraid. You probably understand that we cannot let someone like you wander around the ship.”

You glare at him.

“Do you really think ropes will stop me?” you ask. “I'll be out of here in no time.”

“I would very much like for you to see what we do to you if you decide to break free.” He gives you a testing look before turning to his new companions. “Oh, and one more thing …” He picks up a familiar revolver, spinning it around his hand. “... thank you for the free gun.”

You want to curse at him, but keep quiet for your own sake.

“It's late, the ladies should head to bed”, he says, gesturing for Hedwig and Jerry to leave. “We need to keep someone here to make sure that our little Golden Boy won't free himself and run around, causing trouble.”

“I can take the first shift”, Doctor Kry says and golds up a syringe filled with a translucent liquid.

“Do not harm him, you hear me?” Silas tells him warningly. “I want him alive, coherent and unharmed.”

“Where am I supposed to sleep?” Edmund questions angrily. “In this cabin? Now that I'll have people staring at me?”

“You and Doctor Kry will take Y/N’s cabin”, Silas says.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Stop being so spoiled, your majesty.”

“Won't that be suspicious?” Silas’s second in command questions. “If they see the young king exit and enter someone else's cabin instead of his own?”

“No one knows his cabin”, Silas says as if things were obvious. “Besides, we're in New York tomorrow anyways. It won't be a problem.” He turns to the others. “Scatter.”

The five of them walk out, leaving you and Doctor Kry alone. The doctor sits down in one of the two armchairs in front of you with a long, tired sigh. In his hand, he twirls the syringe.

“What is that?” you mutter.

“Something that will make you go to sleep if you're trying to escape”, Doctor Kry says simply, as if he was talking about watering flowers.

“Why did you hit me in the head if you had that instead?” you ask bitterly.

“Because it wasn't me, it was the second in command and Jerry.”

“Did you lie down in the swimming pool? About not knowing where Jerry came from?”

“No, Y/N, why would I? I told you that I didn't know anything. I didn't get to know until this afternoon.”

“And yet you're quick to jump the wagon to get me killed. I thought doctors were supposed to be nice.”

“I’ve never said that I was nice.”

“What do you gain from this? Why do you want to engage in collusion with people like this? What kind of doctor even are you?”

“Still, with all these questions … look, Y/N, it’s late. You’d do good in trying to get some sleep.”

“On the floor? With my head pounding in pain? With my hands and feet tied?”

“Suit yourself.”

There’s a deadly silence after that. You listen to the sounds the Normandie creates, and somehow wishes that she could save you, but you’re trapped within her, there’s nothing to be done. You rest your head back onto the edge of the footrest and sigh heavily. Doctor Kry looks at his syringe as if it is the most interesting thing he has ever witnessed.

“I'm thirsty”, you say after a while. 

Doctor Kry stands up, walks over to the dressing table where a crystal carafe is waiting and pours you a glass. He returns to you and holds the glass to your lips, making you drink. You gulp it down and breathe heavily. Doctor Kry returns to his armchair. 

You don't know how long you've been sitting on the floor before you start to fall asleep. You thought that you wouldn't, not in this position (figuratively and literally) but you somehow fall asleep. 

“Wakey wakey, Golden Boy.”

You feel someone poke your head to the side multiple times and open your eyes to see Jerry hold a stick in her hand which she's using to poke your head.

“It's morning”, she says.

You groan groggily. She imitates you and chuckles.

“Did you have a pleasant night?” she teases.

You decide not to answer, not to humor her further. Your eyes draft onto a silver tray on the table.

“Yes, that's your breakfast”, Jerry says and lifts the tray, putting it on the floor in front of you before sitting down. 

She picks up a piece of toast and holds it to your mouth. You take a bite, feeling more humiliated than ever. If only you knew that this was where you'd end up when you stepped on board in France.

“We will be in New York tomorrow”, Jerry says, holding the toast to your lips. “And we'll sneak both you and the painting past your contact.”

“It's just a painting”, you say cluelessly. “Why do you all want it so much?”

“I’m not particularly interested in the painting, but I know that Edmund and Hedwig are.”

“Why?”

“Art nerds.”

“Is it even selling for much?”

“It is — if you give it to the right consumer.”

“And you? What do you gain from this?”

“The thing isn’t about what I gain, it is what I lose … in case I let you roam freely. I don’t trust what you will do with the painting or it’s contents. Plus, you know who I am. If you wouldn’t have stuck your nosy head in everything, you wouldn’t have any problem with me.”

You suddenly realize something. 

“Jerry, I need to go to the bathroom”, you say. “I haven’t been to the bathroom since before you knocked me in the head.”

She sighs heavily. “Alright, come here.”

Before pulling you up on your feet, she unties them. You stumble, almost falling on Jerry. 

“Watch it, big boy”, she warns you. “If you knock me down I’m kicking you between your legs until you can’t have children.”

“If you hadn’t tied my feet, I would actually have blood in them. I can’t feel them.”

She unties your hands bitterly. You make your way into the bathroom and catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Hedwig had wiped away some of the blood, but there were still traces of it in your scalp. You sigh heavily. What should you do? Finally, your hands and feet are free, but you aren’t yet. And — after a quick look around — there’s no way out. The only way out is through the door which Jerry is guarding. 

You could perhaps get out by defeating Jerry, but you have something against fighting women. But, then again, she had knocked you with — what you guess was — a glass bottle. You look around for something that can help you and lay your eyes on a metal bar over the bathtub, used to pull one up. Without a second thought and will all your might, you rip it off. You give it a few squeezes, feeling if it could be strong enough to be used as a weapon and trying to find a comfortable, yet strong, grip. 

You open the door quickly and swing the metal bar towards Jerry. She tries to grab it out of your hands but you push her off and knock her to the ground with the bar. You're not sure how hard you are hitting her, but it's enough force to keep her down. Quickly, you make your way past her and storm out of the cabin, almost crashing into the opposite wall in the corridor. You look around quickly, trying to think of where to go. After what Silas said, that he has more men than just his second in command lurking around, you're not sure who you can be seen by. You need to find an officer. You need to get higher.

Shit, the painting!

Your heart is beating loudly in your chest as you scurry back into the cabin. Jerry is lying on the floor, unconscious, and you almost feel bad for knocking her, but you know that it had to be done. It was her or you. Quickly, you open the wooden box and fish out the painting, tucking it under your arm. You can't hide it in your cabin, not when they know about it. You have to dispose of it somewhere safe.

Every step you take is careful, planned and mortified. You clutch the painting tightly, as if it is life itself.

Moving through the long corridor, you're certain that someone will jump out behind a corner and knock you out, like yesterday. Adrenaline is pumping through your veins, almost making you nauseous. You continue through the corridor, over to the hall with the staircases. Your suit has dried blood on it, you look (and feel) manic, will anyone take you seriously?

You freeze as you see a pair of eyes on you. Kry. His blue eyes seem to darken as he notices you, and the painting.

Quickly, you throw yourself into the elevator, and press a random button, wanting the doors to close before Doctor Kry reaches you. And they do, but when you look at the display beside you, you're going the opposite to where you need to go. New plan, you think, I have to sneak into tourist class — or third class, whatever gets you furthest away.

While standing in the elevator, you take a look at the painting to make sure that it hasn’t been damaged in this mess. You turn it around to inspect the canvas and notice something stuck in the corner of the wooden brackets. Carefully, you reach your fingers in and pull out a folded paper. Tucking the painting between your arm and your waist, you unfold the paper to find a list of names and locations … some of which you recognize. They’re all wanted criminals and you guess that the ones you don’t recognize are criminals as well. And the locations …

Your body goes cold and stiff. For a few moments, it feels like the entire world has stopped spinning. This is suddenly more serious than you could ever expect. Quickly, you put the paper in the pocket of your black pants.

You make your way through corridors you haven’t been in before, through doors you’re sure you’re not allowed through. You can’t help but look around at the new environment. Despite being one of Normandie’s lower classes, the attention to detail had been given to every centimeter of the ship. 

Focus!

You’re not sure where you’re going, but you need to find someone that can help you. You consider giving it to a random passenger and ask them to give them to an officer, but in your entire training, you have been told not to pull innocent civilians into your job. They could get seriously hurt and it would be completely your own fault. 

You make your way through tourist class, making sure not to be seen by anyone. If Silas have more people than you thought, why wouldn’t they be in multiple classes? You’re not even sure why the painting have caused this big of a commotion, but there’s no way you can give up the painting now — not after everything you’ve gone through. Your head is still pounding from the glass bottle and your heart beating out of your chest by the sight of Doctor Kry. He knows that you’re roaming freely, and soon, they all will know … and they will look for you. Silas’s words still ring in your ear; “I would very much like for you to see what we do to you if you decide to break free” — well you surely don’t. But where can one run where the space is limited? It’s not like you can grab a lifeboat and sail your way to safety. The sea can be just as dangerous as the people you’re dealing with. 

You look around for someone in black uniform, desperately wanting to find someone to help you before you get a bullet through your head. Finally, you find a steward carrying a metal tray. Like lightning had struck through you, you barge forward and grab his arm. 

“Sir, you have to help me!” you hiss and pull him into an empty corridor. 

“What are you doing-?” he gasps. 

“Please listen and listen quickly”, you whisper in pure panic. The words fall out of your mouth incoherently, but you somehow manage to create the sentences you need for the steward to listen to you. “I have to get to the Captain! Like … now! It’s really, really urgent! Please, just trust me!”

You look around with wide eyes, heart now pounding in your throat. The steward nods in confusion and signals for you to come with him. You’re not sure why he decides to trust you, but you’re ever so grateful for it. He takes you through hidden passages used for staff so that none of the paying passengers will have to see them, up a couple of steep stairs and through some more doors. You hug the painting tightly against your roaring chest. Every corner makes your heart stop, terrified that someone will stand on the other side and knock you out the second you turn. 

The steward points at a door with a golden sign on it — ‘Officers’ quarters’. You pound on the door until you’re sure your knuckles bleed. A stern looking man in neat uniform opens, giving you a dark look. 

“Who are you?” he questions. “What do you want?”

“I’m Y/N L/N, I’m an agent of the crown and this is the missing painting that has been all over the news … you have to keep it secure until we reach New York.”

The officer looks confused as he takes the painting in his hands and lets you into the quarters. 

“You’re bloody, what happened to you, sir?”

“There’s six passengers — Mr Achilleos and his man, His Majesty Edmund of Vesanus, Doctor Karl Kry, Miss Hedwig Carter and Miss Jerry Kim. They knocked me out and kept me in a cabin the entire night. They’re working together. They want this painting …”

… and probably my life by now.

“ … keep it safe”, you beg the officer and feel your voice quiver. “Please. If i can’t meet you at the harbor when we dock tomorrow, please give it to my contact — I will write down his name —  and tell him that he can find further information on board the ship.”

“I will tell the captain about the passengers, they will be taken care of and kept in arrest until we reach land where the police will deal with them”, the officer says.

“Thank you. A lot. Really.”

“You can stay here if you want.”

You feel for the note in your pocket and shake your head. “I have to do something first.”

The officer nodded. On shaky legs, you open the door and walk out into the corridor again. The steward is long gone and you’re alone in an unfamiliar corridor. You suddenly feel exhausted and decide to stay close to the door for a few moments to catch your breath, as if the officers’ quarter was a safe place. 

The note has to be hidden somewhere across the ship so that your contact can find it in case you don’t make it out alive. The note is more important than the painting and can, under no circumstances, go in the wrong hands. These names have to reach your contact. The group will look for the painting in belief that the note is still there, so the note has to be hidden separately so that they won’t find it. 

You make your way through the corridors slowly, making sure not to be caught with the list of names on you. In a weird, panic filled daze, you make your way through corridors, through lounges and dining halls where you hide the note. Underneath a chair, stuck to the corner. You deice to find your way back to the officers’ quarters and somehow find yourself out on deck. The wind is grabbing at you, pulling you left and right. You have a hard time keeping yourself on your feet. No one else is outside and you suspect it has to do with the fact that it’s early in the morning and the dark gray sky above you threat of rain.

“Y/N, don’t move.”

You turn to see the second in command with a gun in his hand.

“If you shoot me you'll ruin your life”, you say to him as confidentially as you can muster, but you can't help but worry if he's going to pull the trigger. 

“Do you think I care?” the second in command questions with a scoff. “I serve my boss until my last breath, I couldn't care less about other trivial matters. Where's the painting?”

“You don't care for the painting. Ask me instead where the note is.”

His eyebrow twitches.

“You know about the note, huh?” he says, eyes narrowing. “Seems like I'll have to get that out of you.”

“Why don't you have your boss do it? Or is he in arrest?”

“Don't worry about him, he always comes out on top. Come with me now or I will shoot you-”

“Shoot me then. The note is hidden and the painting is with trusted people.”

“Idiot. Do you think I was born yesterday? If I shoot you, I can't get the note. You may be stupid, but i dont think youre careless enough To sacrifice yourself for such a trivial thing. Get over here. Now.”

You're unarmed and alone, but if there's one thing you've been taught, it is to not give up without a fight. Your eyes catch onto an officer patrolling the upper deck and whistle. As the second in command takes his eyes off of you, you dive head first into the swimming pool. From his perspective, you don't think — wish — that he sees the man above him. The water wraps around you like a cold blanket and for a few seconds you can't even feel the wetness, only biting cold that almost makes you gasp under the surface. Somewhere, you think that you can hear a gunshot and see something whooshing past you in the water. And then another, and another. And then nothing.

You don't return to the surface until you're sure that the bullet rain has stopped. Your burning lungs gasp for air and you grip the ladder to your left. The second in command has been wrestled down on the deck by the same officer you saw. A smile tugs at your lips as the second in command glares at you from the floor, smashed against the planks.

“Sir, are you alright?” the officer asks, panting.

“I'm okay”, you reply, panting heavier.

An ice cold wind cuts right through you.

“Go inside”, the officer tells you.

“Y/N!” the second in command shouts as you've started to walk. “Don't forget that there are more. You barely know half of the people we have on board. Don't think for a second that you are safe!”

You pretend not to hear him and make your way inside for warmth. Unsure of where to go because of the second in command’s words, you return to the officers’ quarters.

That evening, you make your way down to the arrest. There are still two questions you haven’t gotten an answer to. You've gotten your gun back from a steward and have tucked it in your blazer. Nausea is eating you up from the inside as you walk into the room, watching the cell and its habitants.

“Look who it is”, you hear Jerry snicker. “Change your mind, Golden Boy? Do you want us out?”

You don't even bother to answer.

“The painting is in a safe place, and so are the note”, you say. “I suppose that Jerry, Silas and your second in command wanted the note and not the painting … and Edmund and Hedwig wanted the painting … but what did the Doctor want?”

“Me?” Kry asks coldly and walks over to the bars with his arms crossed. “What I wanted?”

“Yes”, you reply.

“You, of course. Imagine, my own little lab rat that I could do whatever I wanted with … no one would even bat an eye if both you and the painting disappeared.”

“You won't get any of it.” You let your eyes wander over the six people. “Not the painting, not the note, and absolutely not me. Jail is what you will get.”

You can hear Hedwig start to sob in the corner of the cell. She has sunken down along the wall with her head hanging between her knees, body shaking with sobs. Edmund sighs and walks over to her side, grabbing her shoulders and trying to pull her up on her feet.

“Don't cry”, he says quietly. “We won't go to jail, I will make sure of that. I won't allow it.”

“Did you just come down here to revel in our misery?” Silas asks you. 

You're not sure why you came down here. Did you want to make sure to yourself that they were behind bars? Or make you feel more powerful? Or even just get to see them?

“You do know that we will have our revenge, don’t you?” Edmund says and looks at you. “This is not the end.”

“I hope that you like being a dog, because that's what you're going to be, leash and all”, Silas scoffs.

“Tattooed”, Jerry adds on with a tilted smile. “Marked. Would Golden boy like that?”

You ignore her, and walk over to the cells bars, eyes glued onto Hedwig. 

“What were you doing in my cabin?” you ask. 

She freezes, looking cluelessly at you through her teary eyes.

“What?” she asks in shock. 

“Your perfume was all over my cabin”, you say coldly. “Why were you in my cabin?”

“I-I’m sorry, Y/N!” she cries and runs over to the bars, reaching out for you. 

You back away.

“I’m sorry, I-I … I looked through your things. I couldn’t help it, I just … I really, really wanted to hold you. I didn’t take anything, I promise! Please believe me, Y/N, I just wanted to- … it doesn’t matter. Forgive me.”

You don’t answer. Maybe Hedwig isn’t as sweet and innocent as you thought. 

DAY 4 — End of voyage

After your hell night last night you couldn't be more grateful for the somewhat pleasant night you had. Every single sound and movement woke you up, preparing you to see one of the six criminals or their acquaintances. And since a ship is in constant movement and makes sounds only God knows about, you barely slept for an hour straight. But at least you were in a warm bed.

You can't eat anything during breakfast. You stare at the sandwich and steaming coffee in front of you with a twisted stomach. The room is filled with passengers, like normal, but the bright room can’t be more dark and sinister. It is as if someone has drained it of color. Any of the smiling guests can be one that want to put a bullet through your skull, and is waiting for you to rise from your chair and follow you outside.

When a waiter comes over to your table, the coffee has stopped steaming. 

“Good morning, sir”, he says politely and places a silver tray with a silver cloche on your table. 

“What is this?” you ask in confusion. 

“A gentleman told me to give this to you. He has paid for it and everything.”

With that said, he smiles and walks away to continue his job. You glance down at the dome looking metal and feel your heart sink. Although you don’t want to, your heart reaches out to pull it away and reveal whatever is lying on the silver tray underneath. You’re not sure what you are expecting but a small, folded paper is certainly not it. As if on autopilot, you open the paper to see only a line. 

“We will be waiting for you when we dock, you won’t get past us. We are watching you.”

You were right. A knot appears in your throat. Your legs go numb. You will be killed. 

The air is hard to breathe in and you have to get out before you suffocate. You get out on the deck with the lifeboats hanging above your head and lean against the railing. In a few hours, Normandie would dock and you would be caught. You’re not sure that the steward who had helped you before would be able to save you, and you don’t want to put him in more danger … but you can’t step off the ship in New York’s harbor. The lifeboat above your head gives you an idea. A stupid, right out ridiculous idea … 

You look around you before your shaking hands release the lifeboat from its holds. You have been taught the most outrageous things to rescue yourself — including lowering an ocean liner’s lifeboat. The davits slowly bring the lifeboat downwards and you climb in, lying down to avoid being seen. Your body trembles with fear, unsure of what this will bring you … or where it will bring you. 

There's nothing on the ship that you should bring with you. There's no guarantee that the lifeboat will reach the harbor safely, but its a try. The painting will be more secure with the steward. 

You feel a ‘thump’ from when the lifeboat hits the waves underneath you. You see how Normandie towers above you, the black steel never seeming to end. A pair of heads stick out from the side and something hits the water beside you. Quickly, you cover your body with your arms and legs, curling up until all vital organs are covered. Hitting you with bullets on this distance are harder than one can think, but not impossible. The second you’re sure that they can’t reach you, you get up and start to paddle. If the men tell a steward about the missing lifeboat, they’ll steer their ship over here to get you. 

Your arms quickly grow sore. From now on, you’re entirely alone. There’s no one to save you in case anything happens and you will have to find your way to land by yourself. But it's better than being on board the ship.

The sea around you feels abnormally calm. There’s no distinctive sounds apart from the waves hitting the side of the lifeboat. 

You sit for a moment, taking the time to think. This case has been different from all the others you have done. More personal than you could ever have anticipated. You’re not sure why, but something with this case told you that things wouldn’t be over if they got their way. It was more than just materia, they want you too … to use as they please. Doctor Kry was right. Who would bat an eye if you disappeared along with the painting? They wouldn’t call it a kidnapping, it would be a disappearance that could be explained by the painting. And now they have none of it. Not the painting, not the list of criminals and not you. Pretty successful, you think. Maybe you succeeded this mission after all? 

You hiss as you touch your sensitive head. You’ll have to find a doctor in New York.

Hours go by. You row, you rest, row, rest, row, rest. Throw up. Damn if you have gotten a concussion, you think, but it’s probably just the sea air making you nauseous. 

How things had turned out. You thought that you would have had to deal with one or two criminals … not six. Ad how Silas had seen right through you … 

It’s over now. It will be over soon. Is it over?

You continue to row. 

in the distance, you see a fishing ship pulling up their net and you wave with your arms in hope for them to see you, which they inevitably do. Your exhausted, cold body is picked up and wrapped in an old blanket. 

“What were you doing out in a lifeboat like that?” one of the old sailors asks. “Which ship has sunk?”

“It’s the Normandie!” another one says as he reads the name on the wooden planks. “Has the Normandie sunk?!”

You tell them that it hasn’t suck — in fact, it’s steaming on better ad stronger than ever — but that an accident had happened, which resulted in you all alone in a lifeboat in the middle of the ocean. 

They give you a yellow rain coat that you use to hide in and join the sailors to New York’s harbor that evening. In the distance, you see the different ocean liner piers. Cunard-White Star Line, United States Lines, HAPAG, Italian Lines, Swedish-American Lines … and finally, Compagnie Générale Transatlantique. Normandie was towering above all the other liners and you stood there on the pier, looking at it. Four days ago, you had been standing in the harbor at Le Havre and been excited to step on board. But now, that you are looking at it from afar, in the dim lights, there’s something unsettling about the her. It looks like she’s apologizing to you for everything that she allowed to happen between her walls. You almost start to cry. 

You turn around and walk without giving the ship one more glance, hoping that it will be the last time you get to see the Normandie. 

You meet up with your contact in a small warehouse that following morning and tell him what you have hidden on the ship. He promises to retrieve it. He already has the painting and has secured it, had gotten it from the very steward you had left it with. 

“I have something else too”, he says and gives you an apologetic look. 

“What?” you ask and watch him closely as he takes out a paper from his pocket. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You open the paper and feel your blood go icy cold. The handwriting is unfamiliar, but the nickname you see written in black …

“Thought you could lock us in? Think twice, Golden boy, we’re already out. We’ll find you, be so sure of that. Don’t think that we will let you slip away. You will look good in a leash.

S.A”

You fold the paper just as quick and breathe out a shaky breath. 

“Don’t worry, Y/N, you will be protected”, your contact promises. “It will not be any problem, I assure you.”

With the six people’s contacts and power, you doubt that your protection will do much, but you nod. The painting is safe and the note is safe. They may have escaped jail and are looking for you, but you succeeded with your mission. And that is all that matters.

[gh0st-t0wn3]

Some Lmk ss edits + Headcanons (Traffic light trio)

- He/They

- Gay

- Only wears knock off brands (doesn't know they aren't real)

- Autumn is his favorite season, purely because he likes to stomp the crunchy leaves

- Adhd

- Has dimples

- Pigsy once got him rainbow shoes for pride month before he was even out but MK didn't realize they were pride shoes because the rainbow was on the sole

- Tried to cook breakfast for Pigsy and Tang on Father's day once, somehow lit the curtains on fire

- Wants Tattoos but keeps backing down because he doesn't like needles (will probably get one in the future though)

- Has a sketchbook fully dedicated to Redson, would literally die if someone ever found it

- Smells like oranges

- Only a few inches taller than Redson, always teases him for it

- Almost killed Sun Wukong once because he was disguised as a spider

- The Monkey's on flower fruit mountain always climb on him when he's around, he doesn't try to stop them

- Had to remove the snooze option on his alarm clock because he wouldn't stop hitting it

- Chicken scratch handwriting, no one else can read it for the life of them

- Learned Spanish in high school, don't ask why it just feels right

- Covered in scars, but 83% of them are from being a dumb kid instead of battles

- Once described Redson's voice as "really warm, like a hug!" And almost got burnt for it

- Love language is physical touch

- Has those really pretty brown eyes, like the ones that look like honey when the light hits them at that one perfect angle

- Has no fashion sense whatsoever, Mei chose out most of the clothes he owns

- Phone is shattered beyond repair but he refuses to acknowledge that he needs to get a new one

- Obsessively takes personality/buzzfeed tests in the dead of night, once pulled an all nighter just taking "which drink are you?", "what kind of seafood are you?" "What type of candy are you?" Type of buzz feed quizzes, and physically couldn't do deliveries because he was so exhausted the next morning

- Has a bunch of plants but is terrible at taking care of them

- Has a chipped tooth (actually Canon, it's on his lego figurine, I'm still sad they didn't add it to the show :( )

- Once walked in on Tang and Pigsy kissing as a kid and was promptly traumatized

- Has no skin or hair care routine, uses a 3 in 1 Shampoo/conditioner/bodywash

- Has really nice curly/wavy hair but straightens it and uses an unholy amount of hair gel

- Has a wattpad account

- Sleeps in literally the most horrific positions you have ever seen, yet somehow never get cramps or neck/back pains

- Once drank dishwasher soap as a kid because he thought it was juice

- Gets sunburnt incredibly easy (if you've seen the s4 special ykwim)

- Mk once accidently threw a plastic bottle in the trash instead of the recycling bin and got lectured for an hour by Pigsy (Pigsy is a huge environmentalist)

- His bedroom is messy as all hell but he somehow knows where everything is (Pigsy and Tang have tried cleaning it themselves but it was back to being a mess just a few short hours later so they gave up)

- He/Him (FtM)

- Gay

- Shortest one in the trio (just barely though). I like to think that the removal of the samadhi fire stunted his growth and demonic development, which is also why he takes so little after his father in appearance/height. He always wears platforms though, so he looks taller than he is

- He was so quiet and sneaky as a child that his mom had to put a bell on him

- Used to wear large combat boots until someone made a "step on me" joke. He doesn't wear them in public anymore

- Smells like smoke and cinnamon, Mei once described it as a 'campfire' smell

- Has really heavy blackout curtains in his bedroom

- Hair turns black when wet or when he's burnt out

- Always has a soft glow to his body because of his fire, mouth glows faintly, hair glows faintly, the more emotional he is the stronger the glow (MK and Mei are incredibly jealous)

- Tension headaches because we all know that mf has his hair tied up in the tightest goddamn ponytail ever

- Has the samadhi fire back (I'm delusional just let me have this)

- Has a habit of stealing his friends and families clothes to wear, first started when he was really little and would constantly steal whatever clothes of DBK's he could find around the house to help him feel like his dad was still there, and the habit just stuck with him

- Doctor handwriting

- Autistic

- Identifies as male but still likes to wear skirts and dresses sometimes (he just like me fr). Likes floor length skirts the best

- Actually really good at art, mostly draws blueprints for his inventions, but can draw people and landscapes pretty decently too

- Has a childhood Bull plushie that he still sleeps with, hides it under the bed or in the closet whenever MK and Mei come over

- has a scar on his back resembling the rings of samadhi from the removal ritual, Mei once confused it for a tattoo

- Mei once called him "Zesty" and he still doesn't know what it means, she refuses to tell him

- Was homeschooled by PIF

- Has a beauty mark like his mom's

- Has the most angelic, majestic, heartlifting laugh ever, but never actually laughs (unless it's his "evil" laugh, trust me guys)

- Goes to bed at 3am, wakes up at 11am type of person

- Needs glasses because the Samadhi fire fucked up his eyes (in Journey to the West, the samadhi fire is described as a flame that, when activated, "shoots out of every hole in his face" including, of course, his eyes)

- Remember when I said he was a quiet child? Yeah, he can't do that anymore, he literally has no idea how to be quiet now that he's older, the best he can do is whisper shout

- Hopeless romantic, but convinced that any and all feelings are unrequited

- Mei and Mk found his baby pictures once, he will never recover

- Long ass skin and hair care routine, will spend at least two or more hours on it every morning, but it's worth it, his hair and skin are always so soft

- Touch starved as fuck

- Love language is gift giving and positive affirmation (WILL cry if someone compliments him, doesn't matter who it is or what the context is, he once almost burst into tears when Sandy called him a good kid and gave him a pat on the back)

- Once he's focused on something he will stay focused for at least the next ten hours

- Loves strawberry flavored things but hates actual strawberries

- Listens to really underground music and has the biggest superiority complex because of it

- Has the biggest fucking bedroom you have ever seen, with one of those really large and extravagant, super comfortable canopy beds, wakes up like a Disney princess

- Usually self-preserving but will experiment on himself without hesitation if he thinks it'll help him with a breakthrough (has almost died on several occasions)

- She/Her

- Lesbian

- Has tons of piercings: nose, ears, bellybutton, etc (her parents don't know about the bellybutton piercing and she doesn't plan on letting them know anytime soon)

- "Hey, Red boy, cool tattoo!" "... thats a scar." (She still hasn't lived it down)

- Smells like freshly cut grass

- Tallest one in the group, idc what anyone says, I just have a feeling okay?

- Adores glitter makeup but can't stand the feeling of it on her skin

- Love language is quality time

- Has a love/hate relationship with her dragon features, she thinks they look cool and she's proud of her heritage, but if her scales get too dry, which happens very easily, they get really uncomfortable and itchy as all hell

- Had a phase in high school where she'd dye her hair everything except green

- Probably also has Adhd

- Avid tennis player

- Hates the feeling of jeans, but loves denim jackets (has a whole collection, plus one that she and MK have been patching together for years)

- Always smudges her mascara somehow, MK once thought she was crying

- Super rough and rowdy as a kid, like I'm talking pushing kids off swings and down the slide rowdy, tackling people in the sandbox or on the school field, girl was a menace to society

- Snorts when she laughs

- MK tried to scare her once as a joke and her first instinct was to deck him (apologized profusely... before laughing at him)

- Most reckless driver on the planet, it's a wonder how she hasn't gotten her license taken away yet

- Doesn't really consider herself close with her family, she loves them but MK, Tang, Pigsy, and Sandy are her FAMILY, y'know? Like Rosa in b99

- Was the first person to know MK has a crush on Redson, she found out when she walked in on him drawing them together, and she will never let him forget it

- Has a normal skin and hair care routine, and constantly tells Redson that he's insane for needing 2+ hours to complete his

- Is the only one with readable handwriting

- Once stayed up for an entire week to play a new video game that came out

- Will smack her head with a brush if her hair doesn't cooperate

- Bites people (gently, its how she shows affection. Unless she doesn't like you then she'll just naw on your arm until she draws blood)

- Lives on energy drinks, her favorite is Monster Pipeline punch

- Has really soft and really thick hair

- Used to chew on her hair in middle school

- Biggest sweet tooth ever, Redson is disgusted by her eating habits

- Goes on early morning jogs every day except weekends

- Sabrina Carpenter fan

- Refuses to watch any movies or shows based on video games she likes because they'll "never have the same charm or energy as the game", but will buy the video games that a show/movie is based on if she watches them before playing

- Will eat random plants all the time. Walking through the park? She'll lean down and pick a flower to chomp on

- The type of girl to carry around a goddamn gallon water bottle everywhere

- Has a thousand fairy lights in her room, it's a fire hazard

[whosname]

[Id. Natsuyuu fanart. Digital drawing of Tanuma knitting with two needles. He's wearing a koi pond sweater he knitted himself. Next to him, Nyanko sensei has fallen asleep playing with the ball of yarn. End Id.]

Hiiiiiiii, Frances @tanumaskoipond, I'm your Natsuyuu secret santa! I know you love Tanuma and I saw your post about the hobbies and... yeah, yeah, knitting, our fish boy is very talented and he should be knitting.

Sweater design detail

[Id. Digital drawing of a koi fish pond. there are three fishes swimming in circles in the middle, surrounded by lotus leaves. End id.]

@natsume-ss

[simp2537]

Project SS

a/n: This is my first 100 series and I’ve had it in mind for a while. I haven’t read the books and there gonna be a few canon divergences. But I hope y’all enjoy.

Word Count : 1.7k

Series Trigger Warnings: Mentioned S/A on another character, depression, self-harm, anxiety, experimentation on children, abusing relationships, murder, blood, gore, unwilling amputations?

Chapter One

It was cold.

Too cold, my cell was at the furthest ends of the ark. Complete solitary confinement was where I’d been forced to stay. As I laid on the cold ground of the cell I stared up at the ceiling. 

The once dull piece of shrapnel had been sharpened. I’d long since carved out the constellations onto the roof. I gently traced the small scars left in my left arm and wrist, the blade I’d made still hadn’t been taken from me.

Maybe that dickhead of a Chancellor wanted me to slit my wrist. Let Kane find me bathing in pools of my own blood, it would free him of his mistakes. As I twirls the blade in my hands it nicked at the skin of my hands. 

It didn’t hurt anymore, nothing really did. 

Soft vibrations echoed down my hall as I sat up. I shoved the knife into my boot and pull down my sleeve. As I rolled my shoulders back the door slammed open. The outside worlds was filled with screams of the other teen prisoners.

His footsteps entered slowly as he knelt in front of me. I kept my eyes closed as I listened to the clocking of the guards guns and all the chains they brought in.

“Hey firecracker,” Kane paused as he knelt in front of me. I sighed softly as I held my arms up, ready to be covered in chains. After a few moments he grabs my arms and looks at my wrist.

I would imagine this hurt him, honestly I wasn’t sure. He was my father but I’d never felt connected to him. Maybe it was because I was raised in the lab and closed off sector. Maybe it was because Alice had sold me away. Maybe because I knew he couldn’t love me.

He pressed his forehead to my wrists, I could feel a tear of two slip from his eyes. Pity must have covered my face as the guards slowly began to covered me in chains. 

After I was practically dress in silver he motioned for them to pause before placing the mask over my face. He pulled me in close, his arms around me. I froze, my muscles tensed up. He placed a kiss to my temple as he gave me a final squeeze. 

“I love you.”

I was hauled to my feet before I could speak and a muzzle was placed on my mouth. I tried to pull away, fight them off but these guards held my chains firmly. They were weighting me down but I was stronger than this. 

I should be able to break each and every chain but…. I’m tired. So tired. I look back at him, my eyes pleading for him to understand. He’s familiar to me at least, I know when he’s mad or happy. I know his ticks and quirks by heart.

��I love you too dad.”

I’m pulled further and further away from him. I’m pained into a shuttle with all the other 100, their eyes all fall upon me as I’m chains to my seat. I internally grown as they pull the needle filled with a sleep drug. 

I glare up at the guard about to inject me. Does he even know where my vein in, his hands are quivering. I rolled my eyes as the shuttle moves slightly and the guard practically runs away. 

I huff softly as I lean back against the seat. I can hear everyone else being to whisper.  My god I’m tired of this shit.

“Isn’t that the girl who killed twenty guards by herself?”

“I heard she has a metal leg.”

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes as they carried in the very much unconscious Clarke. I chuckled softly as Wells turned to his ex best friend. 

As the shuttle began to drop down shaking Clarke awoke and began to yell at Wells. I quickly began to rip her chains off. Each hitting the ground with a thud.

As the Chancellor’s video came on I ignored it happily. His words meant nothing to me now. He’d failed in every way to me, he was no Chancellor. He was a coward.

“Y/n? Is that you?” Clarke’z confused voice cause the e/c eyes girl to pause. Slowly I moved her gaze to the blonde.

“Who else would they cover in chains?” Clarke didn’t answer as with shoulder length broth hair began to float around.

“Stay in your seats!” Clarke yelled as the shuttle when further down. I had finally ripped all the chains off her body. I looked at Clarke and she was motioning towards the floating boy in front of her.

I shock my head content to remain in the safety of my own chair. She glared at me giving me a look I knew nothing good would come of. 

With a puff of air I undid the buckle and pulled the glove off my right hand. My arm shot up grasping the back of him. The metal of my arm shined softly in the dimly lit shuttle.

“She said stay in your seats.” I growled softly as I pulled him down. The shuttle jerked up and grasped into a bar as we began to fall. 

I held tightly onto him as I heard Clarke yell, “Finn! Y/n are you okay!”

I groaned as we began to fall helplessly towards the ground. As everyone begins to yell and scream I just focus  on holding onto this stupid boy. 

The shuttle jerks again and I’m thrown into a wall hitting a few pipes. My vision becomes hazy as I feel blood drip down the side of my face. The corners of my eyes slowly fade into black as my vision is completely blurred.

……….

I feel a pair of small hands shaking my body roughly. I shot up pushing the person away as my vision returns. 

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?” I looked at Clarke her eyes full of relief. She ran to me, bombarding me in a tight hug. 

“I was worried.” I let her pull away my arms still at my sides. I hummed softly as I pulled myself away from her. The commotion bellow is caught her attention as she pulled me down. As she climbed down as just jumped. 

I parted the crowds for her as she walked behind me. I helped push her forward with my metal arm. The others around me pull away in fear.

They thought a metal leg was cool why isn’t my arm cool.

“The air could be toxic!” Clarke urged.

“If the air is toxic, we’re all dead anyway.” The older boy at the front voiced. I stared at him tilting my head slightly. He stared back at me then lowered his gaze to my arm.

“Bellamy?” The crowds parted as a brunette girl climbed down and looked at him. 

He turned his gaze to her his eyes becoming full of emotions. He stared down at her smiling softly. 

“My god, look how big you are.” The girl engulfed him into a hug as she breathed in deeply. I sighed softly and moved over to the panel. It was jammed and wouldn’t open the doors anymore.

“What the hell are you wearing, a guards uniform?”

“I borrowed it to get in the drop ship. Someone’s got to keep an eyes on you.” He answered. 

“Where’s your wrist band?” I heard Clarke ask as I began to try and fix the stupid panel.

“Do you mind? I haven’t seen my brother in a year.” I froze at this and turned to the pair.

“No one had a brother.”

“That’s Octavia Blake, the girl they found hidden in the floor.”

Octavia jerked forward going to attack whoever had spoken. Bellamy quickly gasped into her holding tightly to her. 

“Octavia, Octavia no. Let’s give them something else to remember you by.” He tried to calm her. The fire was not lost in her eyes as she pulled herself from his grip.

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Like being the first person on the ground in a hundred years.” He answered with a smile. I watched Octavia’s face brighten at the notion. I watched as Clarke’s eyes fell as he moved over to me. 

“It won’t open.” His eyes darted to me.

“What do you mean it won’t open?”

“The panels fucked.” He moved me out of the way to try the panel himself. 

“You’d need a shit ton of force to open those doors up.” I pause for a moment. “Lucky for you, I hate confined spaces.”

He stared at me, his dark eyes holding mine. I glared up at him as his lips curled into a smirk. I moved away from him approaching the door. I rolled my shoulder, my arm flexing against each metal part.

I slammed my fist forwards, the cool metal of my hand hitting the hot door. It flung towards the ground as people backed away gasping. 

Light hit our faces as a breeze pushed against us. I averted my eyes, the light all too bright. I moved out of Octavia’s way with a nod.

“All yours sunshine.” I mumble as she stared at me. I watched as her brother’s eyes trailed me and try then her. She took in a long breath before exhaling deeply. Her feet slowly moved forward against the metal door on the ground. 

After a moment she jumped down, her boots hitting the firm soil. She took a few more steps as I stared out at the trees. They were lush and green all over. They were nothing like I’d ever seen before.

My eyes drifted till I found Bellamy’s eyes on me. I blinked a few times unsure as to why he was staring at me. In his eyes they held a looked I’d never been given.

“WE’RE BACK BITCHES!” Octavia yelled as the others cheered. Bellamy’s eyes left me and retired to his sister as he laughed. 

All around me the others pushed forwards onto the ground in front of us. I simple stared at them all as they left cheering. After a moment when all were gone I followed. 

I left’s my boots hit the ground. I dug them into the soil as I bent down. My fingers traced the top of the grass around us. It pounced my fingertips gently. I let out a breathless chuckle as I grabbed a handful of dirt.

It crumbled in between the cracks of my hand. I brought it to my nose, breathing in the earth scent deeply. I let out a long breath as I stare out. 

Humans were finally back home. 

[sapphireswimming]

Candela Obscura: Circle of Needle and Thread episode 2 more like Mortal Kombat one-shot part 2

[estellan0vella]

Sunshine's Guide To Murder│Lee Minho

Chapter Thirty One: Sounds Illegal As Fuck SS: 11 (ignore time stamps and dates) Word Count: 3K Content Warnings: Previous Next Masterlist

Minho is sitting at a corner table in the university cafeteria, poking at a chicken wrap with disinterest. Hyunjin is sitting across from him, twirling his straw in his iced latte while Chan and Changbin are in a heated debate about who would win in a fight: a bear or a Komodo dragon. Seungmin is scrolling through his phone, unbothered as usual, while Jeongin is trying and failing to hide his laughter at Changbin’s increasingly ridiculous bear impersonation.

Chan looks at his watch and frowns. “Where the fuck are the three criminology nerds? Their lecture ended like fifteen minutes ago. Don’t they know lunch is sacred? I mean I know their lecturer is keeping them behind but fifteen minutes is excessive”

“Maybe Hayun’s doing her usual, losing herself in a rabbit hole,” Hyunjin says, slurping his drink obnoxiously. “Felix probably followed her to make sure she doesn’t trip over her own feet.”

“And Jisung’s probably helping her dig,” Changbin adds, leaning back in his chair with a lazy smirk. “Those three are either like one brain cell divided between them or the smartest people in the room, there's no in between”

Before anyone can respond, the cafeteria doors slam open, and Jisung bolts in, looking frantic. He spots Minho and runs straight over. “Minho! You have to come with me. Now.”

Minho straightens, already alert. “What’s going on?”

“Just come on!” Jisung grabs Minho’s wrist, tugging him up so abruptly that Minho nearly knocks over his tray. The others rise instinctively, exchanging confused glances before following Jisung, who is practically dragging Minho toward the criminology department.

“Jisung, what the hell is going on?” Minho presses, his tone sharp, but Jisung doesn’t slow down.

“You need to see this,” Jisung says, his voice low but urgent. His usual cheeky, upbeat demeanour is completely absent, replaced with something raw and serious.

The group trails through the corridors, Hyunjin, Jeongin, Changbin and Chan jogging to keep up. “If this is another one of your dumb pranks, I swear-” Changbin starts, but the tension in Jisung’s expression shuts him up.

When they reach the criminology department, there’s already a crowd gathered around the large bulletin board by the lecture hall. People are snapping pictures, murmuring among themselves. Minho pushes through the throng with Jisung guiding him, the rest of the group on his heels.

Standing at the edge of the scene are Hayun and Felix. Hayun is still, her arms crossed, her face unreadable. Felix is glaring at anyone who so much as glances in Hayun’s direction. Minho feels his stomach churn as he pushes past the last few onlookers and sees what’s on the board.

A crude voodoo doll meant to resemble Hayun is pinned to the corkboard with large needles sticking through it. Its fabric is soaked with a red liquid that drips onto the floor, forming small, eerie puddles. Above the doll, in large, jagged letters painted in the same red liquid, are the words:

JANG HAYUN IS A DEAD GIRL WALKING

Underneath, another line reads:

SONG MINGI’S WHORE

Tacked next to the writing is a confidential police report. One of Mingi’s interviews with the authorities, where he names Hayun as his youngest victim.

The sight feels like a punch to Minho’s gut. He reaches for Hayun immediately, pulling her into his arms and trying to turn her head away from the display.

“Don’t look,” he says softly, his voice trembling with suppressed rage. “Don’t look at that shit, Princess.”

But Hayun doesn’t let him shield her. Her voice is steady, almost unnervingly calm. “Minho, it’s fine. It’s just some idiot with too much time on their hands, a talent for hacking police files and some red paint”

Minho grips her tighter, his jaw clenching. “Hayun, I don’t think that’s paint.”

Chan steps forward, his expression thunderous. “If I see another person take a picture, I’m gonna start smashing phones.”

Changbin stands beside him, arms crossed. “You heard him! Get lost, assholes!” His voice booms, scattering the crowd like startled birds.

Meanwhile, Seungmin returns with campus security, who start directing the remaining students away. Hayun sighs as she watches the scene unfold, her calm demeanour unwavering.

“It’s not a big deal,” she says, stepping back from Minho’s embrace. “Just take it down. The police aren’t going to do shit about it anyway. They’re already pissed we made them look bad by solving Chaeryeong’s case and clearing her name.”

She walks toward the board, grabs the voodoo doll without hesitation, and tosses it into the nearest trash can. Her movements are deliberate, almost defiant. “The paint or blood or whatever it is another story, though, I can't clean that off,” she mutters, glancing at the red streaks on the floor.

As the security guards work to remove the rest of the display, Felix steps up beside her, resting a hand on her shoulder. “You’re handling this a lot better than I would.”

Hayun gives him a faint smile. “It’s not the worst thing I’ve seen.”

Minho approaches, standing so close their shoulders brush. “Still, it’s not something you should have to deal with.” He reaches up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m not leaving your side until we figure out who did this.”

Hayun glances at him, her lips quirking up in a wry smile. “Thanks, Min.”

Chan walks over, arms crossed. “I swear to God if we find out who did this-”

“You won’t have to,” Hayun interrupts. “We’ve got bigger things to focus on. This?” She gestures to the remnants of the display. “This is just noise.”

But as Minho looks at the red-streaked board and the confidential police report, he knows it’s more than that. And whoever’s behind it isn’t just making noise. They’re sending a message.

The group leaves the university building in tense silence. Minho strides toward his car, tossing his keys in the air. Hayun follows him closely, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of the oversized sweater she’s borrowed from Minho.

Jisung, Jeongin, and Felix trail behind, their steps heavier with worry. Chan, Changbin, Hyunjin, and Seungmin peel off toward Chan's car, murmuring among themselves.

Minho swings open the driver’s door of his car, glancing at Hayun as she slides into the passenger seat. "Let’s get coffee," he mutters, starting the car with a low growl. Jisung, Jeongin, and Felix pile into the backseat, squeezing into the limited space.

Hayun glances at him, raising an eyebrow. “Fancy coffee or basic coffee?”

Minho shoots her a look, his lips twitching into a faint smirk despite himself. “You know what I’m ordering, princess.”

Jisung leans forward from the backseat, grinning faintly. “Bet it’s a basic bitch iced americano.”

“Fuck off, Jisung,” Minho retorts, though his tone is lighter.

When they reach the drive-through, Minho orders his iced americano with a dramatic sigh. Hayun leans over to order her hazelnut honeycomb frappuccino with an extra shot. Jisung and Jeongin shout their iced americano orders over each other, while Felix calmly requests a peach iced tea.

“You’re all fucking parasites,” Minho grumbles, handing over his card. “I should start charging you assholes for gas.”

Hayun grins, sipping her drink. “And emotional labour. Don’t forget that.”

“Yeah, you should bill Hayun specifically,” Jisung chimes in, snickering. “The girl’s got baggage.”

Hayun flips him off without looking back. Minho smirks, resting his hand lightly on her knee. “I’ll take it,” he says, his voice low enough that only she hears.

The house feels heavy with tension as Hayun walks into the kitchen. She doesn’t hesitate, grabbing her hazelnut honeycomb frappuccino and pouring a generous amount of Bailey’s into it. The rich, creamy aroma wafts up as she stirs it with slow, deliberate motions, her mind racing.

She takes a long sip, the alcohol cutting through the sweetness and soothing some of the tension that’s been gripping her chest since the incident at the university.

Behind her, the others trickle into the kitchen, their faces drawn tight with concern. Minho’s presence at her side is immediate, his hand briefly brushing her lower back as if to silently ask, Are you okay? She doesn’t answer, just leans slightly into his touch.

Chan’s group enters moments later, Chan immediately zeroing in on the growing group. “Alright,” he says, clapping his hands once, his tone brisk. “What the fuck’s the plan?”

Hayun shrugs, leaning back against the counter with a sigh. “What can we do? Report it to the cops?” She snorts derisively, shaking her head. “They already hate us. We’ve been on their shit list since we started digging into Chaeryeong’s case.”

Jisung, pacing in the narrow space near the sink, stops mid-step and throws his hands up. “You can’t just shrug this shit off, Hayun! Someone hacked into a police database and used fucking blood to send a death threat. That’s not just some bored college kid pulling a prank. That’s serious psycho energy.” His voice is sharper than usual, panic and anger bubbling to the surface.

Minho’s face hardens, but his tone remains calm, measured. “If it’s that elaborate, it’s not Mr. Shin,” he says, taking a slow sip of his americano. “The guy’s a cop. He wouldn’t risk being that blatant. He’s smarter than that.”

Jeongin tilts his head, his brow furrowed in thought. “But what if it’s not him directly? Could be someone connected to Mingi, right? Someone who’s pissed about him going down or scared they’re next. If Hayun’s name is tied to Mingi’s trial-”

“Which it is,” Felix cuts in, his voice even but sharp, “then yeah, she’s a fucking target. They’d come after her first to send a message.”

Seungmin, perched on a stool by the island, raises an eyebrow. “But why just Hayun? If they wanted to scare us off, wouldn’t it make more sense to target all of us? You know, spread the fear around?”

Hyunjin, who’s lazily sitting on the counter and twirling his iced latte, points at the group with his straw. “Hayun’s the linchpin. She’s the one who planted the seeds to frame Mingi for Yuna's murder. If they know that-”

“They shouldn’t fucking know that!” Minho snaps as he slams his coffee cup onto the counter. The sound reverberates through the room, silencing everyone. He turns to Hayun, his dark eyes intense. “Princess, is there anything you’ve done that might’ve made you their target? Anything you haven’t told us?”

Hayun blinks up at him, startled by the weight of his stare. “I don’t know why this is happening.”

Minho’s jaw flexes as he leans back against the counter, his frustration simmering just below the surface. “We need answers. Fast.”

Chan steps forward, folding his arms. “If it’s someone tied to Mingi, we start there. We dig through his connections, find out who he was working with, who had the most to lose when he went down. That’s where we’ll find our culprit.”

“And how exactly do we dig?” Changbin asks, his tone sceptical as he leans against the fridge. “We don’t exactly have access to his Facebook friends list.”

Jeongin’s face lights up with determination. “We hack”

“Sounds illegal as fuck,” Seungmin mutters, though there’s no judgment in his tone.

“So is painting threats in blood,” Jisung fires back, his voice brimming with barely restrained anger. “I’m fucking done playing nice. Whoever did this doesn’t get to just walk away.”

“Ji...” Hayun’s voice is soft, and she steps closer to him, her hand reaching out to rest on his arm. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not!” Jisung shouts, yanking his arm away, his eyes blazing. “It’s not okay, Hayun. You keep acting like you can handle this shit on your own, but you shouldn’t have to. They came after you today, but what if it’s Felix next? Or Jeongin? Or Minho? Or me?”

The room goes quiet, Jisung’s words hanging heavy in the air. Minho clears his throat, his voice low and dangerous. “Let them try.”

Hayun places a hand on his arm now, grounding him in the same way she’d tried with Jisung. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We need to figure out who’s behind it before we go all vigilante.”

Chan nods, his tone decisive. “Agreed. First step: gather intel. We’ve got the skills, the tools, and more than enough motivation.”

Felix raises his peach iced tea in a mock toast. “To us: the broke, overworked Scooby-Doo gang.”

Hyunjin snickers. “If we’re Scooby-Doo, who’s Shaggy?”

“Jisung,” Jeongin and Minho say in unison.

“Fuck you guys,” Jisung mutters, though there’s the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

The room relaxes, but the tension never fully dissipates. As Chan begins assigning tasks, Minho catches Hayun’s eye. He leans closer, his voice soft but firm. “You’re not doing this alone. Not now, not ever. Got it?”

Hayun looks at him, her expression unreadable for a moment, before she nods. “Got it.”

But even as she says it, Minho can see the flicker of doubt in her eyes, the part of her that still believes she has to carry this burden on her own. And he silently promises himself that he won’t let her face this fight alone. Not ever.

A few hours later, the living room is a cacophony of chaos, wine bottles and whiskey glasses strewn across the coffee table like casualties of war. The air is thick with laughter, half-shouted arguments, and the occasional clink of glass against glass.

Hayun is curled up on Minho’s lap in the loveseat, her legs tucked to the side, her black yoga shorts and fluffy socks making her look comfortably at home against his body.

Minho’s arm is looped securely around her waist, his hand resting on her hip as if to anchor her there. In his free hand, he holds a glass of whiskey that threatens to spill every time he gestures too emphatically.

“Listen,” Minho begins, his voice rising as his whiskey glass wavers dangerously in the air, “I’m just saying, Edmund is the fucking worst. Absolute worst. Who the fuck betrays their family for a box of Turkish Delight? Powdered sugar? Really?”

Chan bursts into laughter. “We’re still doing this? Minho, it’s been a week! A whole-ass week. Let it go!”

“Never,” Minho retorts, pointing at Chan with his glass as though he’s delivering a divine proclamation. “I hated him in The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe, and I thought, maybe, just maybe, he’d redeem himself in Prince Caspian. But nope. Still a little shit.”

Hayun, her face buried in her wine glass, starts to laugh so hard her shoulders shake. Minho glances down at her and narrows his eyes. “Don’t you dare,” he warns, but she can’t stop giggling.

“He’s not that bad,” she finally manages, her voice tinged with amusement. “By the end of the trilogy, he grows a lot. You’re just being dramatic.”

Minho jerks back, scandalized. “Not that bad? Not that bad?! Princess, were we even watching the same movies? The guy fucked up every single situation he touched!”

On the couch, Chan sprawls with one leg propped up on the armrest, swirling the wine in his glass. He groans loudly. “For fuck’s sake, Minho, it’s a kids’ movie. Get a grip. Cut the guy some slack.”

Minho slams his glass down on the coffee table with a thud. “No. I don’t care if it’s for kids. Edmund deserved to get his ass kicked by Aslan. And not just once, multiple times. That’s character development.”

Jeongin, lounging on the armchair with a blanket draped over his lap, grins wickedly. “You must have hated Eustace, then.”

“Don’t even get me started on Eustace!” Minho exclaims, throwing up his hands. “That little fucker was worse than Edmund. At least Edmund was manipulated by the Witch. Eustace? Eustace was just a dick for no reason.”

Felix snorts into his wine glass, his shoulders shaking with laughter. “The dragon redemption arc didn’t fix anything for you, huh?”

“Not a damn thing,” Minho replies, shaking his head vehemently. “He was a shithead before, and he was a shithead after. Turning into a dragon doesn’t erase that.”

Hyunjin, perched delicately on the arm of the couch like a cat surveying its domain, raises a hand. “Alright, but can we all agree that Prince Caspian is hot as fuck?”

The room erupts into drunken agreement, voices overlapping in a chaotic chorus of dreamy sighs and affirmations. Chan leans forward, nodding vigorously. Felix dramatically clutches his chest like he’s about to faint. Even Jeongin raises his wine glass in silent approval.

Minho stares at the group, his jaw dropping. He turns to Hayun, who’s giggling into her glass. “Not again,” he groans, dragging his hand down his face. “I already had to deal with you drooling over him when we watched the movies. I’m not doing this twice.”

Hayun grins. “Minho, we’re not even watching the movies right now.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Minho declares, covering her eyes with one hand. “You’re not seeing him again. Not on my watch.”

Felix raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You know she already knows what he looks like, right? This is pointless.”

Minho shrugs, still holding his hand over Hayun’s eyes. “Doesn’t matter. I’m protecting her from bad accents and worse decisions.”

“Stop being a fucking buzzkill, Minho,” Felix says, rolling his eyes. “She’s allowed to find Caspian hot.”

“Not while she’s sitting on my lap,” Minho counters. “Levi Ackerman? Fine. He’s 2D. But Prince Caspian? Fuck no.”

Jisung, already tipsy and emboldened, smirks. “Still haven’t asked her to be your girlfriend, though. So maybe you don’t get a say.”

Minho shoots him a death glare. “And you haven’t asked Hyunjin to be your boyfriend, so maybe shut the fuck up, dickhead.”

Jisung flushes, his bravado deflating as Hyunjin smirks and ruffles his hair. “Minho, you’re such an asshole,” Jisung mutters, louder this time when Hyunjin starts laughing at him.

Hayun pulls Minho’s hand away from her face, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “For the record,” she says, setting her wine glass down, “I already told him I’m not going to be his girlfriend until he watches Harry Potter.”

“That’s so fucking ridiculous,” Minho groans, leaning back against the loveseat and dragging Hayun with him. 

“No, it’s not!” everyone shouts in unison, their drunken solidarity palpable.

“Fucking finally,” Chan shouts. “Someone with standards!”

“That’s not fucking ridiculous,” Jeongin adds. “That’s basic human decency.”

“Watch the damn movies, Minho,” Felix insists, throwing a piece of popcorn at him.

Minho groans, leaning back into the loveseat and dragging Hayun with him. “You’re all insufferable.”

Hayun laughs, patting his chest as she rests her head against him. “It’s okay, Min. I’ll make it easy for you. I’ll even make popcorn.”

Minho looks down at her, his gaze softening despite himself. “You’re too fucking sweet, you know that?”

Felix raises his glass in a mock toast. “To Hayun: the only person who can tolerate Minho’s bullshit.”

“Cheers to that!” everyone shouts, their laughter filling the room. Minho rolls his eyes, but the faint smile tugging at his lips gives him away. 

I originally wasn't going to post this until tomorrow but I had to because your girl is going to see Stray Kids in LONDON!

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