#but i fall in love anyway through this dumb crystal where neither of us knows who's who

[fazcinatingblog]

Waking up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat because I told my mum about buying full priced Skechers and she told me she got Skechers recently for $50 at DFO. Sigh. Live and learn.

[retvenkos]

“are you always this chaotic?”

A/N: i have an inquisitive anon in my ask box that deserves the whole world, and i decided their amazing (sometime hilarious) ask deserved better formatting, so here we are. sweet anon, this is for you.

tw: language

@bladesappreciationweek​​ A COLLECTION OF RANDOM HEADCANONS AND MEMES FOR THE INCOMPARABLE BLADES COMPANY...

who reserves the right to say “fuck”?

mal does not deserve the right. 10/10 he would use it every other word just for the effect of it all (scandalizing tyril who is upper class and thinks there are “better, more intellectual insults” and upsetting nia who tries to play it off like it doesn’t bother her, but she doesn’t like it). no rights, we’re censoring mal.

nia deserves the right, but she would never use it. not even in her dreadlord state did she utter it (the dreadlord is also an upper class elitist, fight me) but she argues with mal that she can say it and she would, but scholar vash is watching over her right now and she can’t disgrace him (scholar vash would be vvv proud if she said it, though, don’t even lie). olinda egged her on one night and she whispered it, dissolving into a fit of giggles afterward, but neither of them speak of it afterward.

tyril does not deserve the right. he believes himself too good™ for such a word, so he doesn’t get rights. he says he’s better than banal vernacular, thank you very much, but that’s awfully presumptuous of him and fails to take into account that, at all times he’s 5 seconds away from saying it, now that mal has entered his life. 100%, mal is trying to get tyril to say it by startling him at unnecessary times or just being generally irritating, and he never gets tyril to crack. i imagine tyril does end up saying it, though. aerin turns out to be the bad guy and nia falls into the portal or whatever and tyril is just like “...... fuck.” mal is bitter he wasn’t the one to make it happen, but he doesn’t whine about it until after the dreadlord has been defeated. nia is slightly upset that she was the reason tyril broke his solemn vow, but she also laughed thoroughly at mal’s rendition of the moment and regrets that she wasn’t there to see it.

imtura deserves the right and uses it. imtura curses like a sailor. .....get it? because she’s a— alright, you get it. but yes, imtura gets to the right to say fuck and she says it enough for everyone. if mal ever wants to express himself using the expletive, imtura will gladly say it for him. solidarity. but she’s also sweet, deep down, and she keeps her swearing to a minimum when nia is around. 

olinda deserves the right, 100%. she doesn’t say it often, but when she does, it has such power. mal wishes he had the commanding presence. olinda is generally too intent on finding a solution to the problem to ever dwell on failure, but when she goes into battle and realizes her group is terrible outnumbered? oop, there it is.

kade. oh, my sweet summer child, who swears often enough to rival imtura. 100%, he deserves the say “fuck” because every bard deserves free access to every word they can get their hands on. it’s rather funny that kade has a terrible mouth, since he’s like the golden retriever of the group (barring nia, ofc), but it’s also rather fitting. imtura was taken aback and mal had mad respect after hearing one of his tirades (directed at threep, ofc) and tyril is just like,,,,,, will i ever rEsT? anyway, let kade say fuck.

threep does not, under any circumstance deserve the right. threep will go off if given the right to swear, and it’s terribly annoying. everyone is trying to travel through a small town and then, out of the priestess of light’s travel bag you hear the worst string of curses you’ve ever heard - so many outdated and upper class curses picked up through the millennia and then you hear the most country, farmer swears (thanks, kade). it scandalizes everyone and nia is the poor girl who has to carry threep around. don’t let threep swear, whatever you do. it’s a power far too strong for this world.

what they get a tattoo of...

mal tries desperately to have the ~aesthetic~ so you know he gets something like a compass or a dagger or something equally as wanderlust and vague. it’s hella intricate and it’s probably on his forearm or something. i feel like mal is 100% that guy who has a tattoo for his mom on his chest but is also deeply terrified of commitment so the mere idea of getting a tattoo for someone else paralyzes him with intense fear. i don’t feel like mal is the guy to have writing for tattoos - he’s much more open to drawings than words. he’s all about the imagery. mal probably has a couple of tattoos though - he might be starting a sleeve or something, idk.

nia would deliberate long and hard before getting a tattoo - it’s permanent, after all, so she wants it to be something special. she 100% puts it on her lower back, which she grows to regret because she can’t actually see it? it is probably a flower a drawing of the temple of light, or a light crystal or something. i have a feeling there’s a prayer written in cursive that kind of wraps around the image she has tattooed. mal took her to get her tattoo and he was a proud brother™.

tyril was 100% that emo kid who wrote angsty song lyrics in a notebook, and that has not changed. i 100% guarantee that his first tattoo is a poem or something that he either wrote himself or desperately wishes he had written. he probably has it tattooed on his side or something equally as dramatic. mal wishes he had the flair that tyril just naturally carries. he’s iconic™ without even trying. he probably only has a few tattoos and most of them are small. he was one big tattoo on his back - it’s elaborate and kind of works like a family tree. it’s unique to him - he likes the idea that he carries his ancestors with him, no matter where he goes. nia notices one night that the company is on it, too, and she never says anything, but she’s touched.

imtura gets all the NAUTICAL IMAGERY. she 100% has one of those bands wrapping around her bicep, made of waves. i also imagine that imtura has a lot of ink? it’s what she deserves, and i feel like orcs are really artistic with their tattoos - their tattoos are culturally relevant and she has a story for every single one. mal knows every single story - they get sentimental on night watches. i imagine that imtura also knows how to give tattoos, so i headcanon that she gave olinda one that represents the company. imtura thought it was very sappy, but deep down, she was honored to do it.

olinda. similar to imtura, olinda has a lot of ink. the only difference is that she gets hers later on. there is one (1) person who knows how to tattoo in riverbend, and olinda got a few from them, but once she goes out to see the world? she’s going to the good™ tattoo artists and she’s fulfilling her dreams. i feel like olinda get’s her tattoos in very pointed spots - she definitely has a sleeve and you can “read” it from top to bottom - the story of her life. kade jokes that olinda’s memory is shot and so she has to get tattoos to remember her story, but he also really admires them. olinda has a lot of constellation tattoos, including some of the ones that kade made up. she’s very sappy, tbh.

kade got one (1) tattoo when he and olinda were piss drunk. it’s a matching tattoo with olinda that’s very weird and makes no sense at all. you had to be there, and tbh, even if you were there, it doesn’t make sense. to top it all off, it’s on his bicep so that when he flexes, it wiggles. at the time, olinda and kade thought it was the funniest thing and they died of laughter. does he regret it? kade maintains that he doesn’t. does he know the story behind it? he likes to say he does, but he actually doesn’t. olinda knows, and sometimes she’ll drop vague hints to see if it jogs his memory. kade maintains that he’ll never get another tattoo. once was enough.

modern! au ethnicities

disclaimer that there are a lot of great headcanons out there, and i’m here for most of them, these are just my ideas..

i imagine that mal is indian or pakistani, nia is brazilian or dominican, tyril is japanese or mongolian, imtura is maori or samoan, olinda is latina, and kade is half hispanic, half filipino.

when texting.... (and some handwriting thoughts)...

a modern! au? idk, maybe just an au where they somehow have modern technology? anyway...

mal grossly overuses emojis. his favorites are these: 🤑🔪😎😏. he also never uses proper capitalization and punctuation, and he uses abbreviations far too often. you need a key to figure out some of his texts, but imtura and olinda just know what he means. his philosophy is style and speed over substance. when he writes handwritten notes, though, his handwriting is a very fancy cursive and the care he puts into each letter is amazing. he only ever handwrites love letters to olinda and “i hate you <3″ letters to tyril, though. he did write a heartfelt birthday letter to nia, once. she framed it.

nia is my favorite because she texts like a grandparent, where they format texts like a letter and have perfect punctuation and capitalization. when she got a text from mal, she was very confused by what he was trying to express, but she wanted to know how he got the “cute faces” and mal immediately dropped everything to teach her how to use emojis. she loves them and probably uses a string of emojis at the end of her text as a part of her signature, like: [ the body of the text ] Best, Nia 😇🥰👑💖🌸 but her handwriting! it’s very nice. the temple of light had penmanship classes and nia excelled. ngl, she probably does caligraphy.

tyril uses no capitalization. punctuation only. you can hear the sarcasm through his text. he also hates emojis and memes with a burning passion. he has used this, though: -.-  he did it for nia. she loved it and now every time they text, he ends his texts with his “emoji”. mal teases him because it’s dumb and now it’s a running gag that everyone send the weird emoji to each other. it’s the tyril face! tyril wants to jump off a bridge, but also finds it very sweet? he has people giving him emoji’s? is that like.... friendship? anyway, his handwriting is terrible. glorified chicken scratch. it’s efficient and nearly illegible. perfect.

imtura, on the other hand texts the most “traditionally”. she doesn’t really adhere to capitalization, and she never has the ending period, but you know what she’s saying. it’s decent. she doesn’t like to complicate things, but kade introduced her to memes and now she and him communicate together solely using low resolution memes that no one else likes. it’s very annoying but very endearing. her handwriting is nice - simple and easy to understand. she uses a lot of shorthand and a lot of sailor jargon that goes over some people’s (read: tyril’s) heads, but is smart and to the point.

olinda, actually, is the one to have proper punctuation and capitalization, with little flavor to her texts. occasionally she’ll send an emoji or two, but mostly it’s just... communication. she much prefers calling, and will call you 20 times in a row until you answer. she forces tyril to facetime her and he rolls his eyes but secretly loves it. communication is much more efficient when you can see each others facial expressions, and boy, does context go a long way when talking with tyril. oH! I FORGOT TO MENTION - olinda grew up on a rural farm. olinda chronically says “y’all” and has all of those weird, farm related sayings. kade doesn’t have this problem because he “trained himself in verse” and said that he had to be “worldly” not “farm chic.” anyway, her handwriting is kind of careless in nature - not especially nice, but not especially terrible, either. it’s a hybrid between cursive and print (whatever is fastest is best).

kade texts solely in dank memes and lengthy prose. he is the most chaotic person in the group chat, either bidding the company to draw near by sending them four stanzas of incredibly vague meaning (only tyril and olinda understand) or he’s sending “vroom vroom bitch” memes that mal and imtura adore. the blades book may not have given kade flavor, but on GOD i will give it to him because a bard requires chaotic vibes, even if he has a tragic backstory. you know what? especially because he has a tragic backstory, kade deserves some chaos. give me chaotic kade or give me death. as for handwriting, i like to think that kade has two modes: “drafting” handwriting (chicken scratch to rival tyril) and “final product” handwriting that is purposefully and beautifully penned. he had a lot of time to perfect his writing, being sick, and boy did it pay off.

threep deserves to be in this line up, despite not being able to write. in this chaotic technology au, nia has created an instagram page for threep, and because he’s one of the last living nespers, it goes viral. when olinda and mal stumble upon it they have to laugh because it’s full of really expertly done ~aesthetic~ photos with really sweet captions - things threep wouldn’t say in a million years. the account is only up for a few months and at first the posting is really consistent, and then it suddenly falls apart and the account is deleted soon after. apparently, threep didn’t know the instagram account existed and when he found out, he and nia had legendary fights and wouldn’t speak for like, 2 weeks after. nia made a very shady and slightly vague call out post and it was the first time the company really saw her get petty. the instagram page was the perfect fuel for kade’s scathing and petty remarks at threep, and threep came out hard, making a dig at kade’s writing and his stupid tattoo. threep nearly died at the hands of the two sweetest - kade and nia. it was certainly one for the books.

high school! au

(you are right, anon, a high school au would be iconic™)

mal is 100% a band kid. he has the “i play the guitar to be cool” vibes. and besides, the guitar player in the band is always a little more ~rebellious~ than the other band kids (superseded only by the standing bass kids in orchestra, who had unrivaled chaotic evil energy). plus, mal has a flair for the dramatic, which the band kids have in spades. mal is a little too much of a rule breaker to have been on any teams or anything super structured like that, and while we all know that he’s a heartbreaker, he’s not a popular kid™ because (at least in my school) the popular kids are always rich kids who run in the “right” circles. mal is too cool for that.

nia on the other hand is the smart prep that’s really sweet. like, the girl who’s friends with the cheerleaders and could have been one, too, if she wasn’t so shy™. she’s mostly overlooked in favor of the more glamorous, but everyone knows nia and they’re all like, “yeah! she’s cute! and smart, and nice.” she’s probably in like, robotics club or something equally as estranged but smart. 100%, nia is the gabriella montez archetype. she’s in a few clubs, including choir, where her angelic voice earns her a few solos. people are always trying to give her positions of power in their clubs, but she graciously declines because she’s stretched too thin and stress is a thing.

tyril. i know you all want him to be like, the smart one who’s in debate club and is really charming, but tyril’s social skills are not cut out for that. tyril is like that smart kid who sits at the back of history class and knows all the answers but never raises his hand. he has one (1) popular friend who has been close with him since they were both in diapers, but he doesn’t feel comfortable with their friends so he just kinda sits alone for the most part. he was picked up once by the emo artsy kids, but it didn’t really stick. he likes poetry class and does a metal working class because he can be alone with his headphones and thoughts™. in high school he’s just brooding without the mystery. tyril cringes at his youth. he’s too strong and iconic in his current age, so he had to be cringeworthy in his teen years. perfectly balanced, as all things should be.

imtura was 100% that cool, slightly edgy girl on the volleyball team. she was popular with the students and the teachers - like, this is the student that the school mentions is going places, and yet are also like,,,, “let’s try to guide you over here, imtura. you have such potential! don’t squander it!” and imtura hates nothing more than their incessant pleas for her to be the model student. she just wants to travel the world, maybe join a punk band, and get lost at sea. that’s not too much to ask, right? she’s also on the football team, and she’s team captain. she lives in sweatpants and workout clothes, and they actually really suit her? definitely crush material, this one. she’s probably also throws some killer weekend parties with mal’s input.

olinda was harder to place, but i imagine that she’s one of those hands on kids, taking woodworking, metal working, and auto mechanics classes. maybe she was on the soccer team, one year, but that didn’t really work out. she’s a team player and all, but she likes something with a little more purpose. she met tyril in metalworking, she met mal when helping with sets for the school play (he was annoying the theatre kids, as per usual), she met imtura in gym class because imtura picked her to be on her flag football team (which was a great choice, really), and she met nia when she went to the choir room, looking for kade. she’s not popular, per se, but people know her face and they think she’s pretty cool.

kade on the other hand, is 100% an artsy theatre kid. he’s not the super obnoxious theatre kid, and he’s not the snobby theatre kid either, he’s kind of like the older sibling theatre kid who’s infinitely cooler than you, incredibly talented, but also really down to earth and ready to create an elaborate inside joke with you over the course of the year. he has it all: the tragic backstory that adds flavor and depth to his writing, the kind personality that gets him friends wherever he goes, the amazing vocals that make him a shoe in for every performance..... but he often gets overlooked. why? it’s one of those injustices that just don’t make sense. he’s decently popular among the art nerds, and everyone wonders why he doesn’t get lead roles. a real ryan evans, if we want to go with a hsm reference.

AND FLUFF ENSUES.

-- taglist: @musicallisto​, @missameliep​ // message me if you want to be added!

[luvknow]

KINGPIN | han jisung

genre: hitman!jisung x fem!reader | light angst ; swearing ; drug cartel ; guns ; blood summary: your dad, kingpin of a secret drug cartel, hires a hitman slash bodyguard named jisung so both yours and his life are well-protected. you find your life is a little more exciting with jisung around, but not always in the best way. wc: 15k

There’s an eerie chill in the company building as you made your way to your Father’s grande office that sat ten floors below the surface - The Office in Hell, as you’d call it. Maybe it was the poor insulation of the windows or the mob of men who encircled you and invaded your space bubble, but them and the chilling air was something you could never get used to. The awkward elevator music going down didn’t ease your nerves, either. Why your Father ever insisted on such measures like an entire escort crew for your ‘protection’, you’ll never understand, but you knew better than to argue. Besides, you practically grew up with these men - it was like you had eight uncles.

Well, some of them watched you grow up. Some had, uh, disappeared and had to be replaced in the process. That’s daddy for ya.

The extravagant but incredibly outdated seemingly infinite corridor had the huge cliche oak doors at the end. The two handles, gilded in bright gold, were shaped like the Rod of Aesculapius in honor of you getting accepted into medical school. Although you didn’t follow your Dad’s footsteps and go to business school, he was still very proud of his little Princess for making a name for yourself and this was his daily reminder of how accomplished you’ve become. Business school was what brought this crazy kind of life upon your father anyways, and he’d worry everyday if you got involved in this lifestyle. So he thanked God you got into med school.

Two of the men opened the door for you as if even the Rod of Aesculapius did not deserve to be touched by your hands. It’s been a while since you’ve visited home that you forgot how much they treated you like royalty, like an actual princess. You supposed they weren’t exactly wrong… Drug Pusher Princess had a certain ring to it, didn’t it?

Your Dad sat in his favorite leather chair staring at some paperwork with his glasses resting on the tip of his tiny nose. If this were anywhere but ten floors below, you might have believed he was doing real paperwork for the Soju company, but the wads of cash next to the wooden cart of cocaine made it less convincing.

You saw your Dad’s eyes light up and sparkle when he realized it was you. “My little girl!”

“Hi, Dad,” you greeted warmly before walking over and giving him a big hug. Kingpin of a massive drug cartel, CEO of an international Soju brand, and Professor at the University, your Dad’s number one job was to be your number one supporter and love you endlessly. Really, you couldn’t hate him for living life on the edge like this after he and your Mother got divorced - he was still the best Dad anyone could ask for, and that was the most important part, right? Being filthy rich helped you oversee the cocaine, too.

“It’s not everyday a Dad gets to see his only child. This calls for a drink. Jisung! Get the good whiskey from the glass case!” he called into the neighboring room.

“Yes, sir,” you heard an unfamiliar voice.

“Dad, it’s like one in the afternoon…”

“A celebration does not wait for five o’ clock, Princess.”

From the room over came a man who you’ve never seen before carrying a tray with ice, two crystal tumblers, and a huge vial of liquid gold whiskey. He must be new, at least in the last couple of years since the last time you’ve visited. He was definitely different than the rest of your Dad’s henchmen. He was on the shorter side, so it probably wasn’t his strength that got him hired. Maybe he was intelligent? A hacker, perhaps?

The man could tell you were staring - no, analyzing him, so he dared to look back. He knew better than to glare at the King’s Princess, but you could tell he didn’t like how you were already judging him after five whole seconds.

After pouring your drinks, handing them off, and exiting the room you dared to ask. “Fresh meat?”

“Hardly,” your Dad chuckled. “I hired him shortly after your last visit a couple of years ago.”

“What does he do?”

“He’s my right hand and my Hitman.”

“Whoa, what!? Dad! You said you would never do that kind of thing!” you whined worriedly.

“You don’t understand how dangerous this business is.”

“Uh, yeah I do! How many times have you called me while I was doing my rotations at the hospital to keep an eye out for your men? I literally see everything.”

“That’s exactly why I hired Jisung, a Grade-A Hitman. I don’t want to involve you anymore than I have to already, so hopefully he’ll lessen my calls to you while you’re on duty. And you don’t want your old man to end up in the hospital either, or worse yet dead, now do you?”

“No…”

“Ok then, end of discussion.”

“No, not the end!” you leaned over his desk to whisper so neither that Jisung guy nor even the wall of men behind you could hear. “Where did you find him, anyways? Off the street? What if he’s working for someone? Or-or worse, trying to overtake your empire?”

“With Jeongin’s help, we did an extremely extensive background and everything. No record of him ever getting involved with another group. And to answer your question, yes, I found him off the street.”

“What the hell, Dad! You’re so careless!”

“I’ll drink to that.” Without your consent, he clinked your two glasses together with a cheeky grin on his dumb, wrinkly face. “Lighten up, Buttercup. There’s no need for your inherent apprehension on such a happy day.”

You didn’t answer before sipping on whiskey with the glass between your pouty lips. Your eyes naturally drifted around the room trying to see how much it changed since the time you cried to your Dad about how you thought about dropping out due to the immense pressure. There was a place for everything, and everything was in its place, so nothing had changed other than the unfamiliar man in the next room. While your Dad busied himself with another glass, you dared to get up and peak into the room.

Jisung was wiping down a pistol. Knowing that he was ‘off the streets’, you bet it was unregistered. The sight of a gun and being in its presence really made your skin crawl. You didn’t know Jisung at all, but if he was your Dad’s Hitman, there was no way he’d be reckless with a pistol, right? So at least you knew he was skilled with a weapon. He wore all black and the piece of clothing that stood out to you the most was his leather jacket.

He noticed you peaking in almost immediately and raised his brow. What could the accomplished Princess be looking for? You watched him eye you up and down so slowly that you felt like you might as well have been naked. His gazing and the slight curl on his pretty lips was incredibly intimate and hardly appropriate, especially for a first meeting. Maybe seduction was part of his specialty. Or was he mocking you with it?

“Who are you?” you asked hoping your tone was strong enough to hide your embarrassment.

“Jisung.”

“Where are you from?”

“Off the street,” he teased. “At least that’s what you assume, right?”

“Were you eavesdropping?”

“It’s hard not to when it’s my job.”

“Your job is to protect my Dad, not eavesdrop on uninvited conversations.”

“Spying is just a small fraction of my job, love.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Are you picking a fight with a Hitman already, Sugarplum?”

Your Dad interjected at the perfect time to break up the tension between his precious prodigal Princess and his right-hand unbounded Knight. Jisung was not bothered since he was accustomed to arguing with the enemy, but you on the other hand might as well have steam coming out your ears. You may have gotten the last word, but the smirk on Jisung’s lips let you know that he didn’t care that you won this battle because in the end, he was going to win the war.

“Not a fight,” you corrected before flashing your Dad a fake smile. “Just some bantering.”

“As you always do - it’s what you’re best at, after all. Just like your mother ~”

“Dad!”

Jisung didn’t try very hard to hide his snickering and now you could check off ‘Dad embarrasses you in front of his Hitman’ from The Drug Cartel Bingo sheet.

“Are we going out for lunch, or what?” Your Dad began to push you out of the room before you could object. “Jisung, I trust you can take care of my office while I’m away.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Excellent. I’ll be sure to order you something.”

“A bit generous for office-sitting, don’t you think - ow!” Dad nudged your arm with his bony elbow, shoving you through the doorway and forcing you out the office in general so you both could finally get going to lunch.

“You were never nice to strangers, you know,” he scolded while you two and eight men stuffed into the elevator. “Every time we went to parties or ran into friends on the street, you were always so suspicious of them.”

“Yeah, because all the girls at school only liked me for our money, so I figured the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree.”

“Well, you weren’t wrong. But Jisung’s different, ok? He’s a good kid, he’s just a kid.”

“‘Just a kid’, yeah a kid you found off the street who can wield a pistol? Seriously, he’s a total stranger! What makes him so special!?”

“Ok I lied, he’s not from the streets, or whatever you kids call the bad neighborhoods these days.” Dad made you wait until you both got into his completely blacked-out car limo thing before continuing. “He’s one of my teacher’s assistance.”

“You’re kidding, right? You have a TA as your Hitman? Is this not like… conflict of interest?”

“Not when he’s my best and most loyal student.”

“How did you convince him to join you in this kind of life?”

“He doesn’t look like it, but Jisung’s a total suck up, so it wasn’t very hard. Of course he was surprised at first when I offered the position, but completely willing. Did the whole drug test, psychological test, multiple physicals, hazed him a bit and everything - he’s perfect. I like him a lot, too - might even offer him a permanent job once he graduates and it doesn’t look like he’s leaving anytime soon, so you better play nice and get used to his company. He’s family now.”

“These men are not real family, Dad.”

“Tell that to your eight uncles.”

Lunch was filled with the most extravagant salads, daytime cocktails, and Dad only ordered the finest cuts of meats. Even for his Hitman, he ordered nothing short of a Michelin star special. There were many moments in your life when you thought your Dad was too nice for his own good and your ‘inherent apprehension’ as he worded it was at an all time high towards everyone around him because of those thoughts. It would break your heart if anyone were to get too close and bring down his entire empire he built just so you, him, and even your Mom could live a happily and worry-less. You didn’t care how many Hitmen or guards he considered family - you were his real and only family and you were the only one truly looking out for him, even if that meant you would be put in danger.

Just don’t tell Dad you care too much, otherwise he really might think you’ll take over as the head one day just so he wouldn’t have to do it anymore.

When you both arrived back to his office, Jisung was exactly where you left him - except instead of cleaning a pistol, he was cleaning a silencer. Immediately upon seeing you and Dad, he got up to bow. Ugh, he was a total suck up!

“See, I don’t even make him do that,” your Dad defended. “Most loyal TA, I’m telling you.”

You only rolled your eyes. “I’m heading back to the hospital.”

“Jisung will escort you.”

“No,” you said flatly.

“C’mon, it’ll give you to some bonding time! And the hospital isn’t exactly in the safest part of the city.”

“Oh my God, I’ll be fine -”

“That’s an order,” Dad said in his strictly no funny business tone. “Am I seeing you again soon or through facetime for the next two years?”

“I promise I’ll visit more often. I just hate going up and down the elevator and walking the mile-long hallway.”

“I’ll hold you to that promise. Just ask one of your uncles to carry you next time, or something. Jisung, text me when she’s at the hospital.”

“Yes, sir.”

You didn’t even bother arguing your Dad’s over-protective measures. “Bye, Dad.”

“Bye, sweetie!”

You’re out of the door before Jisung could catch up and he thought how this must be the med student in you. He clearly remembered that was how all the med students walked around his campus like they always had somewhere to be and were more important than all the other ‘smaller’ students. He was never a fan of them and he wondered if he was about to add another person to his list.

Why was Dad’s elevator music always this awkward and cliche?

“So… you TA for my Dad?” you asked, trying to play nice, as your Dad had put it.

He chuckled a bit before responding - or maybe it was a scoff. “So you figured out I’m not from the streets?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that… I’m not as trusting as my Dad.”

“No worries. You’re just smart. I would harass a stranger if they got near my family, too.”

“I didn’t harass you…”

“What would you call it then?”

“Being protective.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Jisung’s car was already outside of the company building. At least you think it’s his car, but could a business grad student really afford an all-black Ferrari? There was no fucking way.

“This is your car?” you asked incredulously.

He thought you’d be used to these types of cars by the way your Dad lived his life, but maybe he was wrong. “Yes and no - more like your Dad gave it to me.”

“He’s just giving out cars now?”

“No ~ Think of it as a business car.”

“Business cars are shitty silver-colored sedans that have to be manually opened with a key, not a shiny black Ferrari with butterfly doors!”

“Would you rather take the subway?”

“No…”

“Well then,” he began before fluttering the car doors open. “Your chariot awaits, Princess.”

“I have a name, you know.”

“Your chariot awaits, _____.”

Damn, so he knew your name. Was that all part of being a Hitman? Knowing their name, their background, their entire life… or did he just have to know what their face looked like before he shot a bullet through it? Did he just know your name, did he know everything about you, or somewhere in between?

The beginning of the car ride was silent until Jisung hit the highway and began weaving in and out of the lanes like those douchey car dudes who revved up their engines any chance they could get to show off how big their dick was. What the hell was wrong with this guy!? He must have been used to this kind of driving from all the chasing or whatever the hell he does, but that didn’t mean he should be driving like this with a good ol’ civilian like yourself in the passenger’s seat!

“Are you trying to take me to the hospital or put me in one!?” you shrieked loudly while gripping on to the handle on the roof like your life depended on it.

“What do you mean? This is normal driving for me.”

“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you? Is it because I said you’re from the street? I said I was sorry! Is this part of your scare tactic, or something?”

“I could never hurt you. I’d lose my job,” he teased.

“Then please, for the love of God, slow down!”

“I would if we weren’t already here.”

“Huh?” Looking outside the tinted windows, as much as you hated to admit it, Jisung was right. You arrived safely in front of your hospital with your heart beating faster than his driving. “Oh… That was fast…”

“You’re welcome.”

The sarcastic man left the car first, running around to flip your door open like some chivalrous Knight. It was weird labeling him as a Knight - that and Hitman weren’t necessarily synonymous, but both were somehow appropriate. The door flipped open and Jisung held his hand out for you, but you took a pass on that.

“Thank you for driving,” you muttered to him, feeling a bit awkward. “I guess I’ll be seeing you around?”

“Of course you will. Have a nice day, ______.”

“W-Wait!” Jisung turned back around and raised his brow, which you now figured was his curiosity quirk. It was quite cute, but don’t tell him that. “How much do you know about me?”

He pursed his lips tightly together as if he was too embarrassed to answer. “Do you really want to know?”

“Never mind, you already answered it.”

Then he breaks out laughing. Ah, even cuter than his eyebrow quirk… What was with you and simple things that boys do that made your heart leap? You hated it. Well, he was definitely charming like a Knight.

“Have a nice day, _____,” he repeated. “Call me if you ever need a ride anywhere.”

“Thanks, but I don’t have your number.”

“I’ll text you so you’ll have it.”

“Wait, you have my number?”

Jisung only winked before getting in his car and driving off as fast as you arrived.

“Have a nice day, too,” you muttered to no one. “This is why I hate mobsters.”

When you walked into your unit, you saw all of your lady classmates eyeing you teasingly. Oh no, did they see everything? Now the whole department’s going to know about Jisung because for some reason med students do not know how to shut their mouths when it came to juicy gossip. They erupted in a song of oohs and ahhs, but luckily it was only your closest friend Somi who rushed to your side with heart eyes and open ears.

“Is that the famous guy you’ve been seeing?” she teased. “You didn’t tell me he was a whole man.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked innocently.

“Oh, come on, the entire hospital saw you come out of his car! We could hear the engine from a mile away. No one expected little _____ to date a man like that ~! He’s tasty, dude.”

“Somi!”

“A whole ass meal.”

“Ok, that’s enough!” you blushed.

“He’s hot.”

“Look, I’m not seeing him! He just works for my Dad, that’s all.”

“Well, maybe you should pretend you are.”

“What do you mean?”

“Dr. San didn’t seem too happy seeing you with him ~”

Dr. Choi San, the apple of everyone in the entire hospital’s eyes. Name any person in any of the departments, patient or faculty, and they’ll tell you how much and what they love about Dr. Choi San. You were no exception - you’ve had a major crush on him since your volunteering years as an undergrad student and he was still in med school. If you thought he was hot then, well damn, how would you describe him now? Like McDreamy from Grey’s Anatomy? You’d talk here and there, and at times you’d follow him on rotations, but there wasn’t much interaction beyond that. You simply admired him from afar at this point. But to hear he’s upset about you being with Jisung? A total stranger? Man, if only your ego could fly higher than space.

“Really?” you grinned happily. “Do you think he’s jealous?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Well, in that case then yes, that is the guy I’m seeing.”

“Ugh, you dog… I love this side of you. So what’s his name? Does he have any brothers?”

Let’s see how long you can pull this off.

unknown [13:15]: Hey, Princess. It’s Jisung.

old man [02:45]: Hey, hun. Are you working overnight?

you [02:48]: Yes, why? What did you do this time?

old man [02:49]: Room 430.

“Dammit,” you cursed. A long, tired, heavy sigh escaped your lips as you dragged your feet to the fourth floor. Dad had a pretty good streak of keeping his men away from your hospital, but at 2:45 in the morning was the regression back to day zero.

Room 430 was one of the fancier and completely private rooms, so it was just one of your Dad’s men that was hospitalized. You walked in expecting to only see him unconscious on the bed, but you were welcomed with that and an unscathed Jisung reading next to him. It’s been a couple of weeks since you last saw him, so it was a little awkward, but you were mostly embarrassed because now he’s seen you in your scrubs and white coat with messy hair and droopy eyes.

“Hey,” he greeted casually.

“Hi. You look completely fine, what are you doing here?”

“It was my fault this happened, so I wanted to stay until he wakes up. Plus, I was hoping I’d see you.”

“Did you need something?”

“No. I’ve just missed you since our first meeting. That’s all,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes. “Ha ha… But you’re ok though, right? No bullet or stab wounds or whatever you guys go through nowadays?”

“Completely fine. No need to worry, love.”

“I said to not call me that!” You sighed again for the millionth time that shift. What was the point of arguing with him? “What happened tonight? Why did you say this was your fault?”

“Some guys tried to scam us during a delivery and we got ambushed. They were merely pawns in the enemy’s operation though, it didn’t take long for us to eliminate them, but Mingi here got stabbed from behind and I failed to watch his back.”

“Same old thug shit as usual.”

“Exactly. God, I feel so stupid.” The Hitman ran a hand through his messy hair before rubbing the tired from his eyes. You almost felt bad. His sleep schedule must be as fucked up as yours was, maybe even worse. Who knows what times of the day Dad needed him? But what do you say to a Hitman having a crisis?

“It’s not easy working for my Dad, but you’re doing fine. He likes you.”

“Yeah? How would you know?”

“You’re alive, right?” You saw Jisung’s eyes widen in fear for a split second before you laughed. It was entertaining to see his face express something other than pure cockiness. “I’m kidding! Half kidding… he told me likes you.”

“Wow, look at you. Who knew you could smile,” he teased again. He liked your smile. It was charming in its own way - in a way that was you. He liked the color of your blush after he told you, too.

“Shut up… What did the doctor say about Mingi?”

“He’ll be just fine,” a familiar voice said.

Behind you stood Dr. San with his signature charming smile on his lips and a clipboard with Mingi’s paperwork. You felt your heart leap in your throat, stopping you dead silent and that did not go past Jisung. The way your eyes widened, how your back stiffened - you were a totally different person around this guy. You saw Jisung do the eyebrow thing at you and you glared back, telling him that he better shut up or else.

“How are you, _____?” Dr. San asked gently.

“Good! I mean, I’m well. Tired, but well!” Oh God, were you stuttering?

“Yeah, overnight shifts can do that to you. Do you know these men…?” he hesitated, mostly indicating to Jisung rather than the unconscious patient on the bed.

“Close family friends.” At least you weren’t lying. “How is Mingi?”

“He didn’t lose too much blood. He has his stitches, so once he wakes up he’s ready to leave whenever.”

“And the reason for the IV?”

“He seemed dehydrated, which may be the reason he’s unconscious. Rather than fainting from blood loss, he fainted from the sight of it. The IV should help him recover and get his fluids in check quicker.”

You couldn’t help your face from falling flat. God, what kind of weak men did your Dad employ nowadays that they couldn’t even stop an ambush and fainted from the sight of their own blood!? Really, it was unbelievable, and even Jisung thought the synopsis was ridiculous.

“Thank you for the debrief. I’ll take it from here.”

“Sounds good.” Dr. San headed towards the door, but stopped himself and laid a hand on your shoulder. You instantaneously tensed up and prayed it went unnoticed, though Dr. San was known for paying close attention to the small details. “Call me if you ever need anything,” he said. And then he was gone.

“S-Sounds good!” you called out the door.

“He reminds me of those doctors on all the dramas,” Jisung scoffed. “Totally theatrical with that exit. What’s with that guy? Is he in love with you, or something?”

“More like the other way around… Although rumor has it the day you dropped me off a couple of weeks ago, he was not too happy to see that. Why, are you jealous?”

“You like that guy!? Why!?”

“He’s a smoking hot doctor, what else can I say?”

“He has no personality! Where’s the gall? The entertainment? What a bore… so he’s threatened by me, huh?”

“He… may be jealous because I may or may not have told a few friends that you’re this guy I’ve been seeing…”

“Oh?”

Jisung got up from his seat with the widest smirk on his playful little lips. Even his strut to you was playful, like you boosted his ego out of this atmosphere and into another one. He ended up centimeters in front of you, leaning his face in to see if he could get some sort of reaction out of you the same way Dr. San did, but better because HE was better. He heard your breath hitch in your throat and that was all he needed.

“I don’t remember consenting to this, Princess.”

“I know, I’m sorry! I got a little too excited hearing Dr. San was jealous… And everyone would not shut up about asking if I was seeing anyone.”

“Are you even seeing someone?”

“No, but whenever I said no, all the nurses tried to set me up with their sons so before I trapped myself into a series of bad blind dates, I lied and said yes and now here we are… But by next week, everyone will forget I ever said anything, so there’s no need to be upset, right?”

“Does that mean I win in the end?”

“Win what, against Dr. San?”

“Mhm.”

“I mean, I guess? I didn’t think this situation called for a winner or loser…”

“Silly girl, there’s always a winner and a loser no matter the circumstance. And like hell am I going to lose you to a guy like that. I always win in the end, anyways. So if you must, by all means say I’m your incredibly sexy, irresistible, and delicious boyfriend.”

“Jeez, are you always this competitive? And I’m not a trophy…” you muttered. “Why don’t you go home and get some rest? It seems like you’ve had a long day.”

“I did, but I’m not tired. When does your shift end?”

“At six in the morning.”

“I’ll wait for you. You look like you could use the company and we can get breakfast after.”

You wanted to object, and maybe it’s because you’re a little disoriented due to lack of sleep or because breakfast sounds so good right now, but you didn’t. “I’d like that.”

“See, look at us getting along. Your father will be happy to hear about this.”

“Oh, he’ll be ecstatic.”

“Why the hyperbole?”

“If he hears stuff like I’m getting along with his Hitman or anything remotely related to The Business then he’ll think I’m that much closer to taking over.”

“And that’s the last thing you want, right?”

“Exactly -!”

“_____, get back to work,” Dr. San said uncharacteristically strict while passing the room.

“We can talk more during breakfast,” Jisung reassured. “Have fun with the rest of your shift.”

“Thanks. You have my number for some odd reason, so text me if you need me.”

Jisung’s laugh was the last thing you heard before you left the room with a newfound burst of energy.

Maybe you were wrong to judge him too quickly. He seemed like a totally normal guy, right? But no, that couldn’t be it. He was first and foremost your Dad’s Hitman. There was nothing totally normal about it at all. But at least he acted normal around you. That was all that mattered for now.

The last hours of your shift went as normal other than receiving a lot of compliments of how you’ve adjusted to the overnight shift life quite easily. Even Dr. San was giving you more attention. Could it be because Jisung was here and Dr. San was feeling jealous and territorial? No, _____, you were in over your head… Well, whatever the reason, you’d have to tell Jisung later that he was winning.

“That guy is yummier up close,” Somi giggled brightly just as she was clocking in and you were clocking out. “Good catch. You should bring him to the faculty party as your plus one.” You groaned as a reply and left without saying anything. “Does he have any brothers or not!?”

The rising sun was shining brightly through the floor-to-ceiling high glass windows in the lobby. Your Dad was one of the few commissioners who donated to the hospital so they could redo the lobby and it turned out so beautiful. It was the little things like this that made the overnight shift worth it. Jisung texted you to meet him outside and he already had the car pulled up and ready to go. The sun hit him and his car just at the right angle as if whatever God that was up in the sky was letting you know that hey, this dude isn’t so bad! Give him a chance and be his friend! But again, maybe you were being delusional due to lack of sleep.

Like a gentleman, he opened the door for you once again.

“You don’t have to keep doing that,” you told him.

“Princesses never open their own doors.”

“Why do you keep calling me that? Am I a prissy brat, or something?”

“Before I met you, Mr. _____ kept on referring to you as his Princess. I guess I got attached to the nickname. I kinda like it, don’t you?”

“No!”

“Fine fine, I won’t call you that anymore ~ Whatever the Princess wants.”

You buckled your seat belt extra tight and held onto the overhead handle before Jisung even settled in his seat. He stared blankly at you, unable to believe that you were being this extra and dorky. So he’s a crazy driver, what student wasn’t these days!? He didn’t bother responding - rather, he just drove safely like a nerd.

“See, is that so hard to do all the time?” you scolded.

You had absolutely no idea where Jisung was taking you. He didn’t even ask where you might want to go. He could be kidnapping you, for all you know, and you were letting him! The idea sounded ridiculous, but it was all fine when he pulled up to a local diner.

“I know what you’re thinking - it’s not your typical bottomless mimosa and avocado toast kind of place. But their french toast is to die for.”

“Is that really what you think of me?”

“It’s what I think about all daughters with a terrifyingly powerful father. Besides, I don’t know anything about you.”

“You’re such a liar! You knew my number before I even met you! I bet you know everything about me!”

“Not everything ~ Like I didn’t know you could look so good in scrubs,” he winked. “I only know the basic stuff - like your academic and athletic accomplishments, your allergies, your past pets, favorite color, etcetera etcetera.”

“Yeah, that’s totally basic knowledge… How did you even find all of that out?”

“Mr. _____ gave me your file the day before you came to visit. He thinks we’re going to be spending a lot of time together, so might as well get to know you a little bit.”

“Couldn’t we have done that the normal way? You know, like a regular ass conversation? Wait, I have a file?”

“It sounds worse than it is. It’s actually kind of cute. Like his weird mobster version of a scrapbook.”

The diner looked like those old school types you see in American movies. The booths and bar stools were a candy red, the walls were turquoise, everything was accented with tacky chrome, and there was a jukebox busting out the oldies in the corner. Although this place was a bit odd, it was still home-y in its own way. The hostess sat you two at one of the booths by the window that overlooked the busy city.

The menu was ginormous. There was a whole side just for drinks! On normal days when you had class or had rotations in the morning, your go-to drink was anything with three espresso shots in it. You can’t remember the last time you had a tall glass of cold orange juice with your food. Breakfast was always one of the hardest foods to choose from because both sweet and savory options were just too good to pass up. You were probably just shopping with your eyes. You trusted Jisung, for whatever reason, on his french toast suggestion, so you’ll order that.

The man of the hour already knew what he wanted to order and was flipping through his phone while you were looking. You noticed all of the bloody cuts and bruises that dressed both of his hands and your loud gasp made him look up at you.

“What?” he asked.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” Instinctively, as if Jisung was one of your kiddie patients, you tenderly took one of his hands and ran your thumbs over the dried-out scars. He hissed in pain, so they must have been deep cuts.

“They’re just small cuts, it’s not like I could die like Mingi.”

“But they could get infected! Who knows what rusty, dirty stuff you touched last night. We have to go back after breakfast so I can take care of it.”

“You mean so you can take care of me ~?”

“No, you idiot -”

“Are you two lovebirds ready?” the cheery waitress asked.

“Huh? Lovebirds?” You guessed it did kind of look that way because of how you were holding Jisung’s hand, but didn’t the scrubs and his blood (was it even HIS blood?) sort of prompt a stranger’s eyes that you guys weren’t together? … Ok, maybe not. “We’re not -”

“Yes, we’re ready!” Jisung held onto your hand tightly before you could pull away. He didn’t have to look at your face to know you were mortified and that only made him stifle his giggle. “I’ll have the cinnamon french toast special. How about you, baby?”

Hey Google, what’s the cruelest way to kill your Dad’s Hitman? “I… will have the same thing. With orange juice, please.”

“Coming right up!”

She took both menus and the second she walks into the kitchen, Jisung is lying down on the booth laughing it up like a hyena.

“You should see your face!” he giggled.

“You think you’re so funny, huh?”

“I think I’m hilarious.”

“If I don’t like my food, you’re paying.”

A bullet whizzed in between you and Jisung and then there was shattered glass everywhere. Time paused. There wasn’t enough time to cover your face, so bits and pieces stuck to one side of your cheek and you can feel the blood trickle down like they were tears. While the rest of the restaurant ducked under the tables and counters for cover, you were too mortified to move on your own.

From under the table, Jisung took your hands and pulled you down with him before other gunshots were fired.

He picked off as much glass as he could on your cheeks before holding your face in his hands. Your eyes couldn’t focus on one space at a time like you were trying to take in as much detail of what was happening as possible, but the tears were getting in the way. You were terrified.

“Hey, look at me,” he said sternly. You did as you were told, but then the tears started to fall. This couldn’t be real. “Listen to me, ok? Stay here and don’t move.”

“D-Don’t leave me…!”

“I promise I’m not leaving without you. I’ll be right back, ok? Promise me you won’t move.”

You nodded, wondering how could he be so calm under this circumstance? He must be used to it, after all. Before leaving, he pulled out his shiny pistol from his hidden holster and made his way towards the shooter or shooters.

From the broken window, you could hear indistinguishable yelling and multiple gunshots. He was alone out there. And who knew how many shooters he was up against! There was no way he could do this alone. But you were defenseless and had absolutely no way of helping other than doing what you were told and staying put under the table.

Then the shooting stopped. For a solid five minutes, there was complete silence, with the exception of your loud breathing and other innocent people’s soft crying. Everyone’s breath hitched in their throat when the doorbell rang. You heard heavy boots travel towards your direction and that’s when you knew you were the target from this whole thing all along. Daughter of a Kingpin, of course! What else could be the reason? Were they going to kill you? No, that would be stupid. What would they gain out of that? They must be here to kidnap you and force your Dad to pay them in billions so you could come home.

The boots stopped right at your table and you felt like you could die right there. You had no clue what this man even looked like, but he was easily the most terrifying man you’ve had the pleasure of meeting. He didn’t move at all while he was there. It was like he was teasing you, like he was making you wait and then when you least expected it, BAM! He’d drag you from under the table and throw you in their blacked-out van.

Another gunshot was heard from inside the diner and the man in the heavy boots fell to the floor with a big thud that vibrated the whole restaurant.

Jisung was the next face you saw when he crouched down to check on you. Before he could ask if you were ok, you lunged out from under the table and went straight into his arms.

“Are you ok?” he whispered while holding you tightly. You could only nod while your face was buried in his shoulder. “We gotta go, Princess. You can fall in love with me some other time.”

Reluctantly, you pulled away. There were splatters of blood all over the poor Hitman’s face and it was horrifying.

“Blood…” you muttered, trying to wipe it off.

“It’s not mine,” he reassured. “C’mon, I need to take you home.”

He took your hand and the both of you booked it to his car before any of the diner staff or customers could question you. Just outside, the streets were empty of people and cars and sirens could be heard far off in the distance. It was a total mess in the parking lot with five huge ass men laying in their own pool of blood.

“Holy shit,” you said, all wide-eyed.

“Yeah… This job gets a little messy at times,” Jisung sighed.

The car ride to your apartment is silent. Hell, you didn’t even question how he knew where you lived without having to ask you. All of what just happened happened so fast… like in a matter of seven minutes. You’re still completely shaken up about it, but what mattered was that both you and Jisung left as a whole with no major wounds. You had a bloody cheek with glass in it, but did Jisung even get a scratch on him?

He parked the car and did the courtesy of walking you all the way up to your room so he knew you were safe. The air between you two was tense at the moment and now might not be the most appropriate time for Jisung to be thinking this, but holy shit, were you filthy rich or what. The lobby of your apartment complex had a full blown marble fountain smack dab in the middle of it! True, you were in medical school, so your money was hard-earned, but didn’t your Dad own this building, anyways? And of course you lived on the highest floor in the farthest corner of the entire complex. You must have an incredible view.

“Don’t leave home for the rest of the day, ok?” Jisung demanded once you reached your room. “If you have work later today or tonight or any other day, call me. I’ll drive you.”

“Ok, but you have to come inside first.”

“Why?”

“You need to clean up. Your scratched up hands, all the blood, you can’t go out in public like this the whole day.”

“I can do that later -”

“Please?” you begged. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

With your teary puppy dog eyes, how was he supposed to refuse? “Ok, but I can’t stay long.”

Your home isn’t exactly how he imagined it. Rather than huge expensive paintings and fancy golden vases and marble counter tops, your home was quite simple and clean. Minimalist was a good way to describe it, with bits and pieces of what made your home totally you. His personal favorite touches were the scattered coffee mugs, the ginormous fuzzy rug in the living room, and pictures of you and your friends hung up in different places.

You led him to the kitchen table. “Sit,” you ordered like he was your puppy.

He did as he was told while you ran to the bathroom to get your emergency kit full of all kinds of stuff that only hospital faculty could get their hands on. You came back with a huge plastic case and Jisung’s eyes widened.

“Damn, do you have the whole hospital in that thing!? You’re not gonna give me a shot, are you?”

“No, you idiot.”

“Good, I don’t do well with needles.”

“You don’t do well with needles, but you can shoot a perfect head shot?”

“Yes, and never forget that.”

You started at his face, taking a damp warm towel and wiping off the sticky blood. Jisung could have easily done it himself, but it was nice to be cared for like this once in a while - like he meant something to someone. He watched how your eyes moved bit by bit to make sure you wiped his face clean entirely. You could feel his eyes etching his name into your soul, but somehow you were able to ignore it this time. Maybe because you were too busy worrying.

“Stop worrying,” Jisung scolded.

“How can you tell?”

He then harshly poked your forehead. “Your eyebrows make you look stressed. You’re going to get wrinkles if you keep doing that.”

“Sorry,” was all you could mutter out before you started cleaning his hands.

His hands were surprisingly warm - a striking contrast to your icy ones, like your blood was running cold. But they were soft - much softer than his calloused ones, and they felt nice. First, you wiped away the dirt and dry blood. Then, you took out the sanitizing solution and cotton swabs.

“This is going to sting,” you warned.

“Like… A lot?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Wait wait wait - ah -!” he shrieked loudly while yanking his hands to his chest. “Bro, that shit hurts!”

“Give me your hands back!”

“No!”

“Oh my God, how old are you?”

“Old enough to reject medical care if I want to!”

“You’re such a child. Some bad ass Hitman you are,” you sighed before packing up the emergency kit and putting it back in the bathroom. “If that gets infected, don’t come crawling back to me to fix it.”

You take a moment for yourself in the bathroom to calm down and try to process what happened this morning. You got into Jisung’s car, drove to the diner, ordered food, and then got in the middle of a shoot out. Somewhere in between there had to be some indication the shooting was going to happen, but you couldn’t recall any suspicions. Maybe they were just too good and neither you nor Jisung noticed them. Even though that was all over with, who’s to say that it won’t happen again any time soon? And how was your Dad going to clean up all the blood?

After collecting yourself, you joined Jisung back in the kitchen only to see him talking on the phone.

“I’ll be right there,” he said before hanging up.

“Is that my Dad?” you asked.

“Yeah. He wants me back at the office so I can tell him what happened. I told him you were safe and sound here at home.”

“You’re leaving…?”

Jisung walked up to you and laid his heavy hands on your heavy shoulders. “I have to report back to him now that you’re involved. If I don’t soon, you could be in really great danger, and I don’t want that to happen. Like I said, call me or text me if you need a ride anywhere, need to go to class or work, or just want to talk. Understand?” You nodded, trusting his every word. “Good. Now get some rest, Sleeping Beauty.”

“Can you text me once you get to my Dad’s?”

“Are you worrying about me now? A little backwards, isn’t it?” he teased. “I’ll text you as soon as I get there. I promise.”

Jisung left you to your own devices and you spent the following half hour closing all of the blinds, covering all of the windows, and crawling under your fluffy blankets waiting for Jisung to text you he was safe at your Dad’s. For a Hitman, he was acting more like a bodyguard than anything, but you can’t complain. Without him, you’re sure you would have been kidnapped by whomever was at the diner. You’re thankful for him, and he’s great company, too. Your mundane life was a little more exciting when he was around.

jisung [07:56]: I’m here at your Dad’s.

you [07:57]: good.

jisung [07:57]: Raincheck on breakfast?

you [07:59]: only if you’re paying.

jisung [08:01]: Sure thing. Rest well, _____.

You fell into a deep sleep.

The next time you saw Jisung was the following day when you told him you had an 8:00 am lecture. Jisung’s circadian rhythm may have no reasonable cycle, but even he knew that 8:00 am was way too early for class to start! His business lectures didn’t even start until nine! You felt terrible when he pulled up with messy hair and barely-opened eyes, but you were too terrified to travel without him. Besides, he offered! He’s totally consenting to this.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” you teased. You held out one of your coffee thermoses to him and his eyes lit up like the sun. “Figured you needed some of this.”

“God, you have no idea.”

Jisung continued to drive you to and from places for weeks, whether it be to school, the hospital, or even to the grocery store or some general store. You thought he’d act more like a chauffeur than anything, but really he was acting more like your husband.

Grocery shopping often went like this:

“Kale? Really?” he gagged. “Can’t you buy some good food? You know, like meat and beer.”

“Do you live at my apartment and eat my food?”

“I will if it means you’ll eat good food. I should cook for you. I bet Dr. San can’t cook.”

Shopping at the general store went like this:

“Why are you buying such expensive towels? Just get the cheaper ones.”

“These are softer. Stop policing my shopping!”

“Quit throwing your money away!”

And then dropping you off at work went like this:

“Have a nice day at work, honey ~!” he screamed out the window. “Love you! Stay away from Dr. San!”

The rest of the week went about the same way and you were already tired of seeing Jisung’s annoyingly handsome face for that many days straight. On your only day off, just when you thought you were going to have a whole day of relaxing and staying home, a knock came at your door. At first, you’re terrified. Only a handful of people know where you live and nothing ever gets delivered right at your doorstep. You take one of your chef’s knives from the kitchen and approached the door cautiously.

“_____? It’s Jisung, open up.”

“Oh, for the love of -” When you opened the door, you pointed the knife lazily at him.

“Whoa, chill!”

“I didn’t call for your services.”

“‘Services’, what am I, a stripper? I know you didn’t. I’m here because your Dad wants to see you.”

“God, I hate it when he does this! He never gives me a heads up or anything! It’s my only day off, do I really have to go?”

“Yes. He said this is urgent. He also said to change into some work out clothes.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see.” You groaned in protest and dragged your feet back to your room to change. “Cute jammies, by the way.”

“Shut up.”

After changing into some clothes that you haven’t touched for months, Jisung drove you back to the Office in Hell. You had a feeling this had to do with the diner shooting earlier this week, which made national news. You for sure thought there was going to be some wanted pictures of you and Jisung fleeing the scene, but all the anchors mentioned was that all suspects ended up dying on the spot. Dad must have done something or paid some ungodly amount to the police so that you and Jisung were completely erased from the story, but you weren’t complaining. You didn’t want a bunch of reporters or police asking you questions.

The elevator ride down and the walk down the hallway doesn’t get any shorter the more you travel through it, but you would much rather have Mr. Hitman beside you instead of eight men in suits and sunglasses.

The second you walked through the door, you’re Dad ran to you and hugged you tightly.

“Oh, Sweetie, are you ok?” he cooed, checking the scars on your cheek where the glass hit you. “My poor daughter! Those fuckers are going to pay -”

“Dad, I’m fine.”

“Of course you are, all thanks to Jisung, right? Did I raise your pay yet like I said I would?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Excellent.”

“So what was so important that you called me here unannounced on my day off?”

“Right.” Inside your Dad’s fancy Dior suit jacket, he pulled out a pistol that matched Jisung’s and handed it over to you like it was a tv remote.

“Whoa, what the hell, Dad!?” you flinched, bumping your back into Jisung. “Why are you giving that to me?”

“You need it for self defense.”

“You think I know how to use that?”

“No, and that’s why Jisung is going to teach you. He’ll teach you how to shoot a gun, defend yourself if someone tries to kidnap you, the whole package.”

“Dad, you know I don’t want to be involved in this any more than I already am!” you whined, refusing to take the gun. “I’m digging a deeper hole for myself the more I’m around either of you. I can’t be doing this kind of stuff, I’m about to graduate!”

“I know. You know I fully support the life you chose as a doctor and I did my best to separate this lifestyle from you. But now you’re involved. People know your name, your face, where you work, and it’s my fault and there’s nothing I can do about it other than to give you what you need to protect yourself. I can’t let you walk around defenseless. Can you do this for me?”

You hated that he was right. If you were to walk away, he’d probably have Jisung and a bunch of his other men escort you everywhere you go and that’s the last thing you want. Reluctantly, you took the pistol from your Dad’s hands and he couldn’t look any prouder. You know the doljabi test that babies take when they turn one? The one with a pencil, some money, a sports-related thing, and various other objects that predicted the fate of your future? You’re almost positive your Dad snuck in a gun or a knife in there somewhere and your dumb ass took it so now fate was playing games with you and here you were with a heavy pistol in your hands.

“Jisung’s going to drive you to the shooting range and then to the gym for self defense. Sound good?”

“Do I even have a choice?”

“You know I love you, right? Do this for me if you love me, too.”

“... Ok. Love you, too, Dad.”

He held you tightly one last time before you left with Hitman slash bodyguard slash self-defense trainer Jisung. He was silent for a bit thinking that saying anything would ruin the sentimental moment you were cherishing, but by the way you eyed the new toy in your hands, he figured he had to distract you somehow.

“Some couples have matching clothes, but you and I have matching pistols,” he teased, lifting his shirt to reveal the same one on his holster.

“Tch, couple. As if.”

“What, you don’t think we’d make a cute couple? The waitress at the diner thought so.”

“A Hitman and his boss’s daughter. Sounds like a drama.”

“I’d watch sixteen hours of it.”

The shooting range was indoors, so the drive didn’t take you out of the city. The inside was all black with the targets that you could barely see at the opposite side of the room. For a place colored black and filled with guns, you thought it’d be scarier, but somehow it was familiar. Jisung led you to the one all the way down at the end.

“Ready to play?” he asked while hanging up the target for you.

“No. I’m terrified, actually.”

“You’ve never shot a gun before?”

“Does it look like I have?”

“Right… Show me how you think you should stand.”

You awkwardly did your best to have your back straight, feet facing towards the target, and aimed your gun straight ahead with your arms straight.

“That’s good if you were just shooting here and not moving, but you’ll be moving a lot. Turn your hips like this.”

Jisung had his hands on your hips before you know it and if this was anyone besides him, you might have blushed a deep red. But simply because this was him, you can’t get over how overused this drama-style flirting situation was. He guided your hips to face slightly to the side and kept your torso facing forward.

“You want your hips to face the side so you can quickly turn around and shoot someone from behind if you need to. Does that make sense?”

His fingertips creeped under your shirt on accident and touched your skin. You felt the goosebumps travel through your arms. “Y-Yup!”

“Ok then. Lift up your arms.” His hands made sure your elbows were bent and shoulders steady before returning to ghost the skin of your waist. “Ready, aim, shoot.”

You pulled the trigger and the bullet totally missed.

The breath of Jisung’s hyena laugh tickled your ear and you couldn’t help but laugh, too. You hit him in the chest with your free hand.

“Don’t laugh at me!”

“I can’t help it! You were totally off!”

“Ugh, ok let me try again.”

Again and again you readied, aimed, and fired and the closest you got to a good shot was the shoulder. Your playlist the entire time was a grown man’s giggle.

“You’re kind of cute when you’re shooting. Like the personification of ‘pew pew’.”

“If we were to leave this facility and get into a shoot out, I would not survive, so can you please shut up and help me!?”

“Ok ok! Maybe it’ll be easier if you square out your hips like this.” Mr. Professional Hitman applied more pressure to his grip on your hips and evened out the spacing of your feet and the angle of your hips.

“Does that feel better?” he whispered.

Whoa, your heart was beating fast. “U-Uh, I-I guess…”

“Ok. Try one more time and we can try again some other day.”

You would rather die than try again some other day, so you focused all of whatever energy you had left into this one final shot. You pulled the trigger and the bullet whizzed through the target’s chest slightly to its left.

Jisung whistled, impressed that you caught on. “Right through the heart, baby.”

“Fuck yeah, finally.”

“I guess that’ll do for now. Ready for self-defense training?”

“Now? Like, right now?”

“It’s now or never. C’mon, the gym’s close by.”

Actually, the gym was right across the street. Jisung told you to go to the room that was under your Dad’s name and that he’d meet you after he was done changing into his own gym clothes. The room in your name had the floors covered in gross gym mats and all of the walls were mirrors. It reminded you of a boxing gym, but without all of the equipment. It was kind of creepy.

The door opened to reveal Jisung in sweatpants and a sleeveless shirt - completely different than his normal black jeans and leather jacket get-up. This time you could clearly see his biceps and deltoids and you had to force yourself to look away before he caught you. It was too late. You were never going to hear the end if this.

“Like what you see, Princess?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your high-pitched voice gave you away. “I understand the gun training, but do I really need self-defense training? Do you really think I could defend myself against some huge dude?”

“I highly doubt that you can, but that’s why I’m going to show you some basic tips and tricks. Ready?”

“No.”

“That’s the spirit. So tell me this, Princess. If I’m walking up to you with my hands grabbing your arms so you don’t hit back, what will you do?”

Jisung did just as he described and took hold of both of your wrists so tightly that it was hard to believe he was playing with you. “I’d kick you in your nuts,” you said, fake-kneeing him and making him flinch.

“Ah, careful! Good, that was the right answer. What if I have my hands on your neck and try to cut off your circulation?”

His hand found his way to your neck. Rather than thinking of the right answer, you were thinking of something slightly less appropriate. Only slightly… should this be feeling good?

“_____ ~” Jisung teased. “What’s your answer?”

Oh, right. “U-Uh, aim for your eyes.”

“Good girl.”

You couldn’t recall how long you and Jisung were practicing, but you’re sure you had bruises on weird places of your body right now because for questions that you couldn’t answer, Bad Ass Hitman made you the offender and he’d play a little too roughly with you so you knew what to do in that scenario. Somewhere near the end, you’re sweaty, tired, frustrated, and ready to go home.

“Jisung, I’m tired,” you whined.

“I know, but we have to keep going for a little longer. I have to go through everything on the list Mr. _____ gave me.”

“Can’t we do that another time? I need food, I need a shower, and I need sleep before work tomorrow.”

“We can’t fall short on this, _____. You and I got lucky that no one touched you at the diner. But what am I to do if I’m not with you and someone takes you away, hm? Your Dad will be devastated! And I’ll never forgive myself for not taking the time to help you defend yourself.”

“I can defend myself! I’m not totally helpless you know! I answered most of those questions right, didn’t I? I don’t need you to babysit me all the time just because my Dad told you to. You don’t have to act like you care, in fact you didn’t have to do anything involving me ever. Just lie to my Dad and say you did and hell, I’ll even be your alibi, but stop acting like you care about me when really you’re just looking for my Dad’s approval and that approval is gone the second you step away from me, right?”

The air was tense. Then Jisung walked up to you, swept his feet from under you so you’d fall on your ass, and towered over you. His legs were on both sides of your hips so you couldn’t move your legs and his hands were occupied with pinning your arms to the mat. Everything happened in less than a second and it took you a couple more to adjust your eyes and realize what happened. You focused on Jisung’s face. His lips are pursed, brows furrowed, and overall he looked hurt.

“If I’m the enemy trying to take you away from me and I have you in a hold like this, how are you going to escape?”

Take you away from him?

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t because what he thought about you all along was right - you were just the weak, defenseless, stuck up daughter of his boss. You felt like crying, but that would only further confirm his speculations, so you held it in.

But that’s not what he thought about you at all. You may be this little Princess he’s looking out for, but if anything were to happen to you, he wouldn’t know what to do. He’d probably go on some rampage, thinking irrationally and only doing what he could to get to you or find you or whatever these other mobsters wanted with you. He couldn’t let anything happen to you. He wouldn’t. He didn’t know what to do with this effect you had on him, but it was his fault for deciding to roll with it.

It’s been a minute since Jisung asked you the question. Since that time has passed, you noticed his face softened and you couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He was hurt - you said right to his face that you thought he didn’t genuinely care about it you at all. He couldn’t blame you, because you were right - this all started out because he was protecting you the way your Dad had ordered him to. But wasn’t it more than that by now?

You’re still pinned down and even when both of you realized it, neither of you moved from your positions. Instead, as if from the pull of the Earth’s core, Jisung leaned down almost too slowly. So slowly that you even bothered to strain your neck and meet his lips halfway.

His hands tightened their grip on your wrists like he was afraid you’d slip away. His lips were soft, and they were sweet like cherry-flavored candy. You tasted sweet, too, but more like honey. He could kiss you for hours. He should have done this earlier.

Your ringtone echoed through the room.

“Phone!” you yelped in a panic, crawling out from under Jisung. Your fingers were all twitchy and had a hard finding your phone in your bag. “H-Hi, Dr. San?”

Jisung involuntarily chewed on the inside of his cheek when he heard that name coming from your lips.

“Right now? Can you give me an hour? Ok, thank you, I’ll be there soon.” When you turned back to look at Jisung, he was already packing his gym bag. “I got called into work.”

“Ok,” he said briefly. He sounded annoyed.

Again, the car ride was silent and awkward. Jisung had been good about driving safely while you were with him, but today he went back to his old ways, like the very first time he drove you to the hospital. You looked at him and was going to ask what was up, but he looked angry. Did he regret what just happened in the gym…?

No, it wasn’t that. It was that stupid handsome Dr. San who ruined his one and only perfectly imperfect kiss with you and you jumped at the opportunity to answer the phone and get away. What a childish way reason for him to be bad.

“I… didn’t mean what I said earlier,” you began awkwardly. “I don’t think of you as a babysitter or someone who sucks up to my Dad like that… I’m sorry.”

Jisung sighed. “Then what am I to you?”

You couldn’t answer that.

Even though he was annoyed, Jisung still opened the door for you, but avoided eye contact once you arrived at the hospital. You said your quick goodbyes and he watched you walk in just like every other time just so he knew you were one hundred and ten percent safe inside.

Halfway to the door, you turned around.

“Would you want to go with me to a party next weekend?” you asked quickly like a high school girl asking out her crush.

Jisung did his lovable eyebrow raise. “Go with you? As what, your bodyguard?”

“No. As my date.”

“Whoa, as your date?” You couldn’t tell if he was smirking because he was scoffing and couldn’t believe you would ask him such a stupid question or because you sent his ego into space again. You hoped for the latter. “Why don’t you ask your precious Dr. San?”

“I kind of don’t want to go with him.”

“Why not?”

“Because I kind of want to go with you more.”

He bit his lip and you couldn’t help but think about kissing him again. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“So…?”

“I’ll go.”

He swore your smile lit up the night sky brighter than the moon. “Pick me up after work?”

“Anything for you, _____.”

You talked about kissing Jisung to Somi your entire shift.

The next time he kissed you was ten hours later after the overnight shift.

“Kiss me,” he demanded when he dropped you home. Your back was pressed against the door as he towered over you.

“Seriously?” you blushed.

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

“What’s the magic word ~?”

“Kiss me now?”

You were looking for please, but that was close enough, right? From then on, kissing was normal. Almost too normal, like you couldn’t keep your lips away from each other.

From the weekend you kissed him to the weekend of the party, you and Jisung hung out everyday all day. Sometimes it was training as your Dad’s Hitman and his precious Princess, but it was mostly as two people who liked each other. The other stuff was arbitrary. For once, you guys did normal things together, like cooking, shopping, playing games, and your favorite - kissing.

The hospital faculty party was going to be the first ‘date’ together publicly as a couple. Jisung always thought the firsts for anything were awkward, but not this - not with you. He was surprised to find out that everything with you happened naturally.

“Whoa…” was what Jisung said when he picked you up for the party. He knew the attire was formal, but never in his time of knowing you did he think he’s see you in something that made you shine like the stars. You were going to make everyone in the room turn their heads.

“Whoa yourself, even if you are in all black. Again.”

“I’m sexy though, right?”

“Very.”

The party wasn’t some adult house party or at a dinky banquet hall. No, this one was at the most expensive hotel in the city in the biggest ballroom. Decorated with jewel tones and gold accents, this party was the most extravagant party you and Jisung had ever attended. Everyone can thank your Dad for booking it. Anyone who was anyone was at this party and you wondered who was keeping it down at the hospital, but that wasn’t your problem tonight.

You spotted your group of friends over by the bar and where there was most traffic for the hors d'oeuvres. Typical. You took your hot date by the hand and walked over, finally getting the chance to introduce him to them, especially Somi.

“_____! Is this who I think it is!?” she gasped loudly.

“Guys, this is Jisung. Jisung, these are my co-workers.”

“Is that really all I am to you?” Somi and a couple of others fake-cried.

“Shut up.”

While Jisung was distracted with the food, Somi leaned in to whisper to you. “Hey, don’t look now, but Dr. San is staring.”

“Really?”

If Somi told you this months ago, you would have been all over that. But now you were just genuinely curious as to why. When you looked back, it was certainly true that he was staring, but he had his hot date right next to him, so why did it matter? Something was off.

“Jealous?” Jisung teased.

“Only that you have food. Sharing is caring.”

“No way, get your own!”

You disregarded Dr. San’s stares for the rest of the night. Your attention and affection were for Jisung and Jisung only. Whether it was his arm around your waist or your hands playing with his, there was always some sort of skinship shared between you two and you neither of you wanted to separate any time soon. So he took the initiative to pull you to the dance floor.

“Does my Dad’s Hitman know how to dance?”

“Of course! There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, baby.”

“I’ll know all of them eventually.”

“Ok, bet.”

The songs changed from upbeat bops, to goofy bops, then finally ended with the slow and sexy songs allowing Jisung to hold you close like he always wanted to. He’s done so behind closed doors a few times already, but this was different. He got to show you off to the whole world. To your friends, to strangers, and especially to Dr. San.

“Safe to say that I won, right?” Jisung asked, referring to the night that Mingi got stabbed.

“By a landslide.”

“What do I get?”

“Another kiss ~?”

“You know me so well.”

Your man dipped his head down and kissed you with all of the passion he held in every cell of his body. Even during the kiss, you could feel yourself getting light headed and all the blood went to your cheeks.

“Whoa,” you said once he pulled away. “When did you learn how to do THAT?”

“Like I said, there’s a lot of things you don’t know ~”

“I think I need a drink after that.”

His cute laugh rang in your ears. “Ok, I’ll be at our table.”

You got a couple of sodas for you and your date so you could boost your blood sugar back up. While waiting, you overlooked the entire room full of people you worked. Even then, your eyes still found their way to Jisung. He was happily talking to Somi and the rest of the girls probably talking about how you two met. As if knowing you were looking, he returned your gaze and did his cute little wink so he could see you blush again. Well, it worked, because now you were smiling like an idiot and staring at your shoes.

“_____,” Dr. San said, tearing you away from your thoughts.

The handsome man was smiling down at you when you looked up. He was wasn’t with his date at the moment, so it was just you two.

“Dr. San, hi. How are you?” you asked.

“I’m doing well. Yourself?”

“I’m doing very well.”

“Really? I knew there was something different about you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re smiling a lot more. Your cheeks are practically glowing. It’s charming.” Cutely, he pinched your cheek.

You didn’t think anything of it, but oh man, did Jisung think otherwise. Now he was angry. It wasn’t your fault, and maybe he shouldn’t even be angry in the first place, but like HELL was he going to let some fucking tacky-ass doctor be friendly with you like that.

“Is someone else making you blush the way I used to?” Dr. San asked.

“I-I guess? You knew about that?”

“Of course. I thought you were cute, too. I could still make you feel that way.”

“Dr. San…?”

He took steps closer to you. “You should be with a real man.”

Just in time, Jisung stepped in between before this creep could touch you again.

“Back off,” Jisung sneered. Uh-oh, this wasn’t going to end well…

“I’m not doing anything,” Dr. San said calmly. “We’re just talking.”

“It doesn’t look that way to me.”

“You’re just a thug. What are you even doing here? She’s too good for you.”

Before Jisung could land a punch on him, you held him by the waist and laid your chin on his shoulder. That stopped him dead in his tracks and he hated how weak he fell when you held him like that.

“Don’t do it,” you whispered. “He’s not worth it. Let’s go home, ok?”

Your Hitman didn’t answer. Rather he took your hand and walked swiftly towards the exit.

“See you Monday, _____ ~” Dr. San sang tauntingly.

“What an asshole… Can’t believe I ever liked that guy.”

When you arrived outside, Jisung let go of your hand and wiped the sweat on his nice dress pants. He walked a few steps ahead of you to take some time to cool off before he talked because he knew if he didn’t, he’d say something wrong and maybe you’d run away. After running a hand through his hair, he turned back around to see you smiling and waiting patiently. It was so hard for him to believe he had you.

“Are you ok?” you asked.

“Yeah… Sorry, I don’t know what got into me. Just seeing him with you like that… It really got under my skin.”

“You must like me, huh?”

“Nah, that can’t be it…”

“Hey!”

“You know I’m kidding,” he said, his hands finding their way back to your waist. “I like you. A lot. Almost too much.”

“There’s no such thing as too much.”

Your annoying ringtone yet again ruined the moment between you and your man. Normally, you had your phone on silent, but you only let it ring when important people like your Dad, Jisung, and Dr. San were texting you. You checked and saw it was a message from Dr. San.

He sent you a picture of your Dad in a room with no windows tied up to a chair and beaten bloody with only “₩10B by 3AM” and an unknown address written.

“J-Ji-Jisung…” you stuttered. “W-What does this mean…?”

“What’s wrong?” His eyes narrowed at the image on your phone. Now he was furious. He knew there was something wrong with that guy from the get-go. “I’ll call for our crew in the car. Let’s go.”

You and Jisung sprinted to his car in the eerie underground parking lot. What if Dr. San was watching you right now? Watching you run away with a man that wasn’t him. Watching your every move so he knew you were following his demands.

Panic flowed through your entire body and you were finding it hard to breathe evenly. Your Dad was your entire world and now someone - Dr. San, of all people - had him. What were you to do without your rock? The only man who ever believed in you?

“What are we going to do?” you asked once you both were in the car. It sounded like you were crying, but no tears were present.

“We’re going to get your Dad, but it’s going to be messy.”

“But what about the money? I have it, won’t that be easiest?”

“First thing’s first about this line of business is to never trust anyone. Even if we have the money, who knows what they’ll do in that time? We’ll get the money, but we need to be quick and we need to be prepared to fight back, is that clear?” From inside his suit coat, he pulled out his pistol and gave it to you. “Are you ready to show me what you’ve learned?”

“What about you?”

“I have mine,” he said, revealing the one on his belt. “I brought yours just in case because I knew some shit was going to go down. This night sounded too perfect to be true.”

“I-I don’t even know the time…! What if it’s past three already!?”

“It’s 10:25. _____, look at me.” Through your panicked and shifty eyes, you tried to focus on Jisung’s calm and handsome face. It was helpful when he held your hand. “We’re going to find him, but I need you to stay calm, ok? I’ll be right next to you the whole time.”

“Don’t leave me.”

“I could never. Are you ready?” When you nodded, Jisung wasted no time and started the car. “Let’s fucking go.”

First thing’s first - go to your Dad’s office and find ₩10B lying around. That shouldn’t be too hard, right? You knew the password to the safe that was embedded in the wall and hidden behind one of the bookshelves. That was probably what Dr. San was looking for.

Dr. San… Who was he in all of this? Was he like your Dad, the leader of the pack? Or was he more like Jisung, the guy who did all of the dirty work? And why would an accomplished doctor like him need a side hustle like this? How did he even have the time!?

Entering the long hallway that led to Dad’s office was scarier at night with the possibilities of an ambush. Ahead of you, Jisung pulled out his pistol, indicating that you should do the same. With shaky and unsteady hands, you followed his lead. Despite the circumstance, dressed in your formal wear holding a gun next to your man made you feel kind of invincible - like you could do anything with Jisung by your side and look good doing it.

The office really looked like it came from hell when you entered. Everything was flipped upside down, all of Dad’s papers were everywhere, the books on his shelves were on the floor, and the cocaine corner was completely empty. Dr. San’s men did major work in such a short amount of time.

“The safe is behind the shelf,” Jisung instructed. “I’ll watch your back while you open it.”

“You know about that safe? And know that I know the code?”

“Mr. _____ trusted me almost too much.”

The safe combination was rotated between yours and your Dad’s social security number and you had to get it right in three tries or else you were locked out for twenty-four hours. This time it was yours. You’ve never opened it before or even knew what was in it, so when you opened it both you and Jisung could not believe how much money was stashed.

“So this is where my paycheck comes from.” Jisung handed you one of the many black duffle bags your Dad owned. “Start counting, babe.”

Even with ₩10B in the bag, there’s barely a dent in the safe. You both knew your Dad was filthy rich, but this safe was downright NASTY. When you save Dad from this whole mess, you’ll convince him to never do this drug stuff ever again. He could live luxuriously and then some with just half of what was in the safe.

The next step was to go to the unknown address. Jisung couldn’t imagine what you’re feeling right now. You must have been scared, furious, worried, or all of the above. With one hand on the wheel, he reached over to hold on to yours and there’s a wave of relieve that washed over you. It didn’t last long when the GPS lead you to an empty warehouse under a bridge with only your men’s cars filling up the property. The second they saw Jisung’s car, they all came out. Did Dad really have this many men in his army? You don’t even think you’ve seen some of these men before.

“Miss _____,” the leader of the pack greeted politely. “What’s the move?”

“I-I don’t know… Why are you asking me?”

“You’re next in charge, aren’t you?”

“Uh… Jisung, help?” you nudged.

“We’re going to go in there, give them the money, and demand Mr. _____ back. Be prepared if they disagree or things get heated. There are two number one priorities here - bring back Mr. _____ alive and keep _____ safe. Is that clear?” All the men nodded obediently. “Go!”

A couple of the men broke down the door. Instead of the building being an intricate maze of hallways and arbitrary rooms, it was just one big, empty gray space and your Dad was tied to a chair right in the middle of it, not moving.

“Dad!” you cried out, running past all of the loyal men.

“_____, get back here!”

Jisung couldn’t let you run alone in such an open room with potential shooters hiding God knows where, so he ran after you and kept an eye out for all hidden corners and crevices. The tears you kept hidden these last few hours all flowed freely the closer you ran to him. It felt like you were running a marathon on the longest treadmill. The closer you got, the more you could see the fresh blood oozing out of his body and when you reached him, you knew why he wasn’t moving.

He was already shot dead.

“Dad?” you whimpered, shaking him by his cold, limp shoulders. “Come on, wake up…! I’m here!”

“_____, it’s a trap,” Jisung warned. “We have to go -!”

“No, not without my Dad -!”

“_____, look at me.”

Jisung tore you away from trying to untie your dead Dad and held you by your face. Your crying and sobbing echoed so loudly throughout the room. It broke his heart to see you this way. He hoped to never see you like this ever again.

“We have to go. It’s not safe for you here. My priority is to keep you safe, remember?”

“But Dad -!”

“I know, baby, I know. You know what we’re going to do?” You shook your head. “You’re going to take over your Dad’s spot. You are going to rule this Kingdom and we’re going to get our revenge.”

“Revenge?” Revenge sounded good.

“Yup. You’re going to sit in your Dad’s office and run that shit like nothing happened, right? You’re going to keep this business running. And we’re going to find Dr. San and find all the other men responsible then we’re going to get our revenge. And I’m going to be right beside you the whole time, ok? Do you trust me?”

You could only nod. His plan sounded perfect.

“If you want to do this, we have to get out of here. Now.”

You let Jisung take the lead by helping you up. He dropped the bag of money next to your bleeding Dad, took you by the hand, and ran. There’s no shooting to be heard, no other footsteps, hell you couldn’t even hear any breathing. Was anyone even here? Why the fuck did they even bother if they already killed your father!?

“Grab the body and take it to get prepped for a memorial. Watch out for snipers,” Jisung warned.

The rest of the men stayed back when you and Jisung left to get you safe inside the car.

“Why did you leave the money? Dad was already shot,” you asked.

“Dr. San or whomever he works for only wanted the money. They didn’t care about negotiating. They have that place bugged. If we didn’t leave it, something bad was going to happen to you. I’ll throw away ₩10B any day as long as you’re left untouched.”

“Dr. San… no wonder he tried to get closer to me. Not too obvious, but not too subtle, either. He knew a lot about my relationship with Dad, too.”

“Like what?”

“I told him I chose med school because I didn’t want to take over Dad’s business. He knew if they killed my Dad, the company’s Drug Pushing days would be over. God, I’m such an idiot!”

“Hey, that’s not your fault. You had no idea some tacky doctor could be involved in this life.”

“Yeah, and now I’m going to be. I’ll be doing exactly what I never wanted in the first place. But this is for Dad. I have to do this, right?”

“You don’t have to do anything.”

“You’re right. Now I want to.”

“_____-”

“It’s ok. This is for Dad - I can do this. I-I think… You said you’d be there with me, right?”

“You can’t get rid of me that easily, Princess.”

“Good... Where are we going now?”

“To your home. You need rest, you had a long day. Then tomorrow, we’ll clean up your new office, and I’ll show you the ups and downs of this God-forsaken business.”

“I’m both terrified and excited.”

“Maybe you were meant for this job all along.”

“Dad used to say shit like that, too. Maybe you’re both right...”

Your heart was incredibly heavy when you arrived home. You needed your bed to hold all of the weight of your sorrow. Seeing your Dad dead and tied up like a pot roast was one kind heartbreak, but realizing he was gone forever was another. You couldn’t be alone tonight.

“Don’t leave me,” you begged Jisung.

“Do you want me to stay tonight?”

“And tomorrow... Maybe for the whole week... And then some...”

His light chuckle rang in your ear and he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Anything for you.”

EPILOGUE

Life is simple. Life is spent calmly after your Dad’s memorial and taking over the Soju business and cocaine side hustle. It took you a while to adjust from med student life to business student life, but you’re thankful for Jisung who helped you with the transition and studying every step of the way. It wasn’t as bad as you thought - then again, business students don’t have overnight shifts.

Being the CEO meant you knew the recipe of the Soju and who to pay in whatever amount. You were more like the overseer. As time passes, you’ll learn the rest of the ins and outs on the go, so you’re not as worried.

Besides, you have your hands full with cocaine, among other things.

“_____?” Jisung opens the door to your office with a triumphant smirk on his lips. “Dr. San’s ready to see you.”

“Thanks, love,” you said. You take your shiny pistol out from your holster. “Can’t wait to see him.”

[amarantine-amirite]

Three Worlds, One Problem

Have you ever come across two or more things that seem completely unrelated, but aren't; and it all comes together once you have one more thing that relates them all? The best example I can think of that shows you what I'm getting at is if you have three puzzles pieces that are three different colors: blue, white, and green. They seem like pieces from entirely different puzzles, but they're part of the same puzzle. You don't see it until you have that fourth piece that links the three colors together.

In my lifetime, I've come across three things that seem totally unrelated, but actually are. The first thing is something that happened to me when I was 15 years old. At the time, I attended a school for gifted children that, for some reason, had an unusually high number of students pursue careers in the government, and the school would select a student in sophomore year at random to apply early to Duke as a government major (they weren't kidding; they sent you a pre-filled application and everything). The girl who they picked originally (Jane, her name was? Or maybe Judy?) died, and I agreed to take her place. Normally, this wouldn't be an issue, but I was just woefully bad at doing real, actual work. When I was at school, whatever I handed in would be extremely sloppy (if not incomplete) and it didn't matter one bit. They just checked it off as complete anyway.

Once I got to Duke, that wasn't the case anymore. They went over what you wrote with a fine-tooth comb. My first paper for history was about the Civil War, and what I turned in read like the plot of a stupid movie where The Beatles fought against radioactive Viet Cong sharks (no, really, I used the phrase "radioactive Viet Cong sharks" at least eighty times, if not more). I repeatedly never studied for tests, nor did I ever complete a paper before about 12 hours before it was due. I was always doing other things-be it watching YouTube, playing tennis with my roommate Ashlie (while I should've been studying for my history midterm) or writing dumb folk songs about people who wanted to ban bananas because they looked like penises (when I was supposed to be writing my history midterm) or anything else. Not only did I not get any work done, I forgot I even had work to do; to the point where I wound up on academic probation. In fact, I was teetering on getting suspended for my bad grades. I'd never been suspended before, but I'd been warned about it in the past. Never in any of my past experiences had I been warned of suspension as a consequence for half-assing it on my schoolwork, but I (at the time) didn't know that suspension was a legitimate consequence for bad grades in college. And I was very afraid.

Fortunately, I stayed. About 3/4 of the way through my first term, I pulled myself together and started doing my work for real. Gone were the badly written papers that my TA's mistook for B-movie proposals and my habit of missing midterms. Instead, I wrote eloquently, and I aced all my exams. I had legitimately changed. I had, inexplicably, changed. Why? The reasons everyone brings up ("Cassie fails to do work in class because she is defiant", "Cassie is bored in school", etc.) didn't hold water, nor did any of my explanations ("I was way out of my comfort zone", "I was woefully unprepared for university") make any sense. Whatever caused me to change my work habits for the better, it wasn't the warning of a suspension.

The second thing is the Sia song "Breathe Me". "Breathe Me" was written in 2004, and since then, it was used everywhere (I'm not joking, either. I remember being bombarded by it from movies, TV, and ads when I was in middle school). Not only was "Breathe Me" overused for a little bit, it was overused for a long time.

I'm not sure if I'm the only one who thinks this, but I seem to remember that (and this was especially true during my first year at Duke) it always reminded me of "Revolution 9" by The Beatles. The association was so strong, it couldn't have been constructed from my own memories. It could have only come from having heard one particular rendition of "Breathe Me" that was really weird. When I say weird, I freaking mean it. The piano part was played on a sitar, and there was this weird whispering thing that kept saying "right" throughout the second stanza, and there was that outro. Oh, my God, that outro. That outro was so bizarre.

Honestly, maybe I didn't actually hear it in real life. Now that I mention it, I probably dreamt it. It seems too weird to be real. Sia's lawyers would have gone absolutely nuts had somebody made a version of "Breathe Me" that was that strange. The more I think about it, the more I suspect that I might have dreamt it, because I began to associate that weird version of "Breathe Me" very strongly with wind turbines, electrical lines, and other energy related outdoor structures. To me, that just screams dream.

The thing and final unrelated thing concerns a conference I had attended about the same week I turned 16. Since I wasn't invited to the conference, I tried to lay low as much as possible. Usually, this meant that I just hung around and talked with all these financial people. I pretended to know what they were talking about, but I kept changing the subject when I got the chance. If someone said that the bank of wherever was on thin ice, I'd change the subject to how ice crystals formed. Either that, or I'd hang around eating all the cucumber slices that they have.

That said, there was one place where I screwed up. I screwed up so much, it was glaringly obvious that I was neither invited to the conference nor as calm and collected as I appeared. About halfway through some old German guy's speech about the (dim) future of the Eurozone, I just completely lost it. I actually had a panic attack that was so extreme, the speaker told me to shut up. I remember the guy's exact words: "If you panic at the thought of the collapse of the Eurozone, just kill yourself. Your life won't get any easier from here on in. In fact, you shouldn't even be here. Fuck off, will you?" That, and that, was the thing that sent me from panic to flat-out rage. I walked right up to the guy and told him to reach up his ass and pull his head out. A chase (and a flip-out) soon ensued. My God, that was some flip-out. I pushed a photocopier out a window and onto a fire hydrant.

After things cooled down, it was all over. They found out I snuck into the conference, and they kicked me out. In a fit of defeat, I went to bed. I didn't fall asleep easily that night. In fact, I was so upset that I spent most of the night thinking of dropping out of Duke and just plain going home. I was so scarred by what I did, I probably won't be able to go to a financial conference again.

Now, all three of the things that I told you (my sudden improvement in my work habits, my association of Sia's "Breathe Me" with The Beatles's "Revolution 9", and my flip-out at the conference) are completely unrelated. They're just three things that happened around the same time that have no connection to each other, right?

Wrong. There is a connection. That connection is, of all things, an episode of the girl's cartoon Winx Club.

Typically, this wouldn't make any sense. How would a cartoon connect three seemingly unrelated events in my life? Well, between the death of my high school classmate Jo (finally, I remembered her name) and the end of my freshman year at Duke, I would watch Winx like there was no tomorrow. I loved (and I do mean loved-the past tense is for a reason) Winx Club, and my obsession with the show peaked around the same time at the conference. It was right when the German guy began speaking at our conference that I stumbled across a "lost" episode of Winx Club on YouTube. Without so much as a second thought (or for that matter, a first thought), I clicked on it and watched. The title of the episode was "The Kraken", and at the time; I figured that maybe the Winx would have to rescue somebody from a giant space octopus. Well, there was a giant octopus, but nobody was rescued. If anything, everybody was more or less doomed.

This sounds like a cliche, but it's not. I remember clicking on the video and it taking almost an hour to load. I also remember my laptop crashing. After turning it off and back on again, I went back to the video. This time, it played no problem. I was so excited that I got to see the episode. Looking back, there wasn't much of a tip off that things weren't normal. The opening sequence was normal, the video didn't get stuck a second time, none of it. Absolutely nothing was amiss. Unfortunately, the normalcy ended with the title card.

The episode started sort of normal, but there was this purple tint to everything that persisted throughout the entire episode. The very first scene showed the window to Bloom and Stella's room. You couldn't really see them that well, but you could see their silhouettes. They were talking about how they couldn't figure out what was bothering Flora so much. Bloom's guess was that it had something to do with Helia (Flora's boyfriend) actually being female this whole time, while Stella's guess is that it had something to do with how she put on a few pounds. Either way, they couldn't agree on something. They couldn't even agree to disagree. Yet, their disagreement wasn't what stuck me as odd. What struck me as odd was that there weren't any scenes where you saw their faces. Either you got a silhouette or a closeup of their lower legs. I was a bit weirded out, but I continued to watch the video.

What happened next was where things started to really head downhill. While Stella and Bloom were arguing, Tecna was busy taking apart the printer at the end of the hall. Musa kept saying, "Tecna, you're not allowed to take the printer apart", "Tecna, for the love of God, stop messing around with the printer", and "Knock it off, or I'm ratting you out". Tecna completely ignored this, and continued messing with the printer until she got it to pick up the Yankee game. Meanwhile, Bloom and Stella continued arguing until Bloom asked, "Why's Tecna watching the Yankee game on the printer?" Unsurprisingly, Bloom thought this was hilarious. Again, nobody's face was shown. All you literally saw was the display panel on the printer and, eventually, the Yankee game.

The scene faded to a silhouette of Flora crying. She talked about how she was fearing for her life, that she was actually a test subject for a government experiment. She'd escaped after the power went out during a fire drill, and she mentioned that she cut off the tracker attached to her wrist before the power came back on. She'd been hiding out at Alfea ever since. As I watched this scene, all I could think of was oh, come on, enough with the conspiracy theorist rant, make your point already, but I pricked up my ears when she mentioned something called "the Kraken". As she said the word "Kraken", a strange, staticky image of an octopus splashed across the screen. The whole thing gave off a really, really strange vibe. A really, really, really strange vibe.

The third scene was where things really went down the drain. We didn't see anybody's silhouette this time, but the quality of the video went downhill. The Winx girls were in Faragonda's office, and she wasn't pleased. She was swearing at them, calling them "disgusting bitches who belong in a sewer", and threatening to beat them. Now, this is incredibly dark for a kids cartoon (and it isn't even dark in the normal way Winx is sometimes dark. To be honest, it sounded like it came from some stupid Lifetime movie about a psycho teacher). What was even more unsettling was that the girls were all wearing black masks. Some wore half masks, while others wore full masks. The masks were crudely drawn, like they were those anonymity silhouette things you sometimes see on the news. Apparently, not only did Faragonda find out about what Tecna and company did to the printer, but she got off the phone with the government scientists who worked at the research facility from where Flora escaped. Musa had ratted both Flora and Tecna out. Later, Flora and Tecna were led outside; Flora to a black van, and Tecna to a blue car. This is the part of the episode in which the weird version of Sia's "Breathe Me" begins to play. The minute I heard "Breathe Me" play, I thought oh, jeez, not this shit again. Yet, this was different. Something caught me totally off guard the minute Tecna got in the blue car. An androgynous voice uttered the following words: Take this brother, may it serve you well.

After that, I couldn't not watch it. I had to see where this 100% messed up episode was headed. "Breathe Me" resumed, and the black van pulled up to the research facility. The two drivers of the van dragged Flora out and led her into the facility. The scene eventually cut to Bloom flying towards the facility, only to get caught in electrical lines while Tecna (who's boarding a helicopter at this point) says to the man escorting her, "You hear something?" just before the scene fades out to wind turbines. As the scene fades to wind turbines, the phrase "number 9, number 9, number 9" (and, of course, the random screaming of "Right!") repeated in the background.

What happens next is probably the reason why I will never listen to "Breathe Me" (or, for that matter, anything else by Sia) the same way again. There was a close up of Stella getting struck by the blades on one of the wind turbines. Now, I never liked Stella (she was bit of a doofus), but seeing her get killed by a wind turbine just made me feel ill. Worse, there was a lot of cutting back and forth between the helicopter flying off into the night and Flora in the research facility, getting subjected to some God-awful experiment where she was injected with something that made her turn into a werewolf and lash out against the scientists. This is where the bizarre outro to "Breathe Me" starts playing. One of the scientists was about to kill Flora, but his coworkers had to hold him back. She was uncontrollable, violent, wild even. I really don't want to delve into too much detail here, but in the end, she mauled the scientists to death.

The rest of the episode was just a mishmash of Flora destroying things and the helicopter with Tecna in it catching on fire and crashing into the ocean. The sound was a mishmash, too (Seriously! At one point, a half-human-half-lupine Flora said, "Satan, look at me. Please?"). That is, of course, until the very end. The screen cut to black, and it was completely silent, with the exception of a very low frequency hum. 

At this point, a Matrix -esque sequence of letters and numbers flicker on the screen while a roboticized Tecna looks right at the camera. I will never forget the menacing red glow of her eyes as she said the following: Yes, what happened to Flora was a tragedy, and what became of Magix and Alfea was nothing short of disastrous. But, I know where everyone lives. I know how you fake sympathy, crawl away from the truth, search out cognitive consistency, and kill off our faith in humanity. I know what you do. I can watch your every move, and I can control what happens. Your insignificant little blue planet means nothing to me. I made you do these things, and I can make everything stop. I'm the Kraken, goddammit! Again, the staticky image of the octopus appeared, but it didn't just flash over the screen. It actually played a video of the octopus splitting the Earth in half, then transforming into a black hole. After that, the episode was over.

I was in shock. I thought it was a never before seen episode of Winx, but it turned out to be the most demented thing I'd ever see. What I'd just seen had ruined me. I was so shocked that I melted down. Right there. At that conference. All that work I put into laying low at a financial conference was wasted by the simple act of watching an episode of Winx Club on my laptop that scared the ever loving shit out of me. This is gonna sound stupid, but I think it fundamentally changed me.

Seriously, that one episode of Winx Club is the reason that I kicked my schoolwork into high gear 3/4 of the way into term, the reason that I associate Sia's "Breathe Me" with The Beatles's "Revolution 9" , and why I flipped out at the conference. That was the thing that tied together three otherwise unrelated events.

Oops, my bad. There were actually four unrelated things happening. The fourth thing was Jo's death. Thinking back on the episode, I couldn't help but notice the name on the byline: Siobhan Lansig. Maybe it was someone with the same name, but I kept thinking to myself, isn't that Jo? I also couldn't help but notice the description of the video Let's get a few things straight here. I'm absolutely desperate to get the hell outta here! My teachers treat me like crap, I've been bullied so much you'd think it was a joke, and I got booted out of every club for my "behavioral disorder". Here's the reason why schizophrenics are "evil": YOU ACT LIKE WE ARE. PERIOD!!! I'm taking that early admission to Duke even though my study habits are even worse than those of Cassie Oakley. After that, I'm gonna take over the world. I understand that I don't have much time left, so this is what I'm leaving behind to all them mortals here on Earth. I know I'm gonna die, and I know that I'm gonna come back. Someday, I'll be back. Siobhan "Jo" Lansig (AKA the Kraken)

Not only did Jo dying allow me to get early admission to Duke's government program, she also wrote the messed up Winx episode that shocked me into better studying. The more I think about it, the more I think that Jo did this as a personal message for me. It wasn't so much as "Do well, make me proud" as it was "Get your shit together or you're gonna get it". Jo was never my friend; she was a madwoman. If this was the power she held when she was dead, I don't even want to think about the power she would wield if she were still alive.

[cwkrp]

have a little imagination, will you?

INTRODUCING   son sujin, she/her, 17/12/95 COURSING   ba in applied arts, second year AFFILIATION   ursa ANNOTATIONS   n/a

a note from the past.

TOKEN.

slender fingers combed through freshly dyed hair, a smile aimed at her from behind the barber chair.

“you look so beautiful, my love.”

it’s a compliment, so eight year old son sujin smiles back through the mirror. after all, a compliment is such a rare thing from her mother. she’ll take what she can get, even if it only comes after everything about her has been modified. if that’s what it takes, then maybe the change was needed.

heels clicking with every step and sneakers slapping against linoleum, a little girl trying desperately to keep up with her mother. she looks out of place next to her, a clumsy child with rubber bracelets and scabbed knees to accent her school uniform while the woman is anything but. she’s all elegance and curves accentuated by a tight red dress and red lips to match. they’re a site to see as son mirae guides her child into an expensive shop, littered with mothers and daughters who looked to be in the same boat.

“try this on,” she suggests, holding out a simple white dress to the schoolgirl. sujin takes it, albeit reluctantly, and lets herself be shown to a changing room. that’s where it begins. she exchanges her bland school uniform for something more glamorous and before she can even show her mother, more dresses are being handed to her through the curtain. galactic shades of blue and purple, oranges and yellows that could put the sun to shame. she’s made into a doll, so she might as well play dress-up.

“what is all of this for, mama?” she asks as they exist the store, now wearing a soft yellow dress and white wedges. she doesn’t quite like it and she’s found that walking feels weird when she isn’t wearing sneakers, but she doesn’t say that. how can she, when her mom is smiling so widely at her, radiating happiness? how can she ruin that?

she learns that it’s for a pageant. she’ll get to dress up like a princess. it will be fun. she’ll be the envy of all the other little girls. that’s what mirae tells her, anyway, and sujin still doesn’t say anything because that doesn’t sound very fun to her but she was never taught how to say no. even if she had, something told her it would be a losing fight.

one pageant turns into two, and then the number multiplies. she can’t eat her favorite foods anymore because she has to stay skinny. “it’s only until the next pageant,” her mother tells her, but the pageants never end and neither does the diet.

she blinks and she’s sixteen, a petite teenager in high heels and a pink dress, short in the front and long in the back—but it’s a little too short in the front, so she keeps tugging the hem down, but it just inches up more every time. in the end, she gives up and just smiles as she’s awarded with a crown, a sash and a bouquet of flowers.

“give it up for the beauty queen, son sujin!”

it’s a title that fits her, almost. it fits her soft smile and softer features, her pink lips and doe eyes. but it’s not who she wants to be. she’d rather be at home in sweats and a t-shirt, an easel in front of her and a paintbrush in hand. she’d rather be creating beauty than being judged for her own.

she doesn’t say anything, though, because no one had ever taught her how to speak up for herself.

STEREOTYPE.

she’s trying to study for the csat. she’s in her bedroom with the door closed, a compilation of edith piaf’s best hits spinning on her record player. she doesn’t mind studying, not really—it’s relaxing to her, in a way. it’s much more simple than anything else she could be doing.

but her peace doesn’t last for long. the music is drowned out by an incoming phone call and the ringtone is a stark contrast to edith piaf’s relaxing voice, so sujin answers as soon as possible just to get the person off her back. “what is it?” she asks, her voice tired. defeated, almost, although the conversation hasn’t even started yet.

“there’s a party tonight, sujin. go with us.” it’s one of her best friends and she can hear her other friends in the background, laughing among each other. no doubt getting ready for the party. “i don’t know, i’m studying for the…” she tries to explain, but she can’t even finish her sentence before her friend is speaking over her. “c'mon, it’ll be fun. don’t be a wet blanket. can’t you meet us at hyeri’s place?”

sujin says yes, but she means no and she meets them there at seven o’ clock sharp so they can all get ready together. after all, that’s what they want.

the party is loud and crowded, filled with people that she doesn’t know and people she wishes she didn’t. there’s a distinct stench of marijuana in the air and she tries to ignore it but it’s difficult when it’s in every corner, every crevice of the house. she resorts to standing near the dance floor, an unimpressed look on her face because her friends are nowhere to be found now and she doesn’t know what else to do. she isn’t a party girl. she never has been.

there’s a boy standing near her, his gaze lingering on her. predatory. he’s tall, dressed in leather and dark denim; a complete opposite to the petite girl in white. maybe that’s what gets his attention. he approaches her with a cup in each hand, filled with some mixture of alcohol that she’d never want to taste but when he looks at her with those deep eyes and asks if she wants a drink, she says yes even though she means no.

she takes one sip, and he takes a sip of his, and he asks her if it’s good. she says yes because she knows that’s what he wants to hear, and she’s right; he smiles then, and he tells her to drink up. she does, even though she hates the taste and it takes all the willpower she has not to spit it back out.

that’s how sujin’s story goes. every chapter is a series of “yes, yes, yes” even when she so desperately wants to say “no, no, no”. it’s the tale of a marionette and the strings which keep her bound, always grasped in someone’s hands other than her own, even when the puppeteer is unaware of the power they have over her.

a color for the present.

GREEN.

every time they pass the playground, sujin looks the other way. she’s tired of seeing mothers pushing their daughters on the swings and the merry-go-round, tired of seeing children playing on the jungle gym together. the worst part is that when they fall, they don’t frown; they just keep smiling, dust the dirt off of their knees, and get back to climbing. she knows it’s petty to be angry over such a thing, but it feels like she’s the only elementary school kid on the planet who isn’t allowed to play and she can’t help but turn green with envy when she sees them having so much fun.

when she’s in middle school, the father-daughter dance rolls around. it’s all her friends talk about and she wants so badly to go, to feel like she’s part of something, but she lacks one thing; a father. of course, her mother’s man of the month offers to go with her, but there’s something not quite genuine about it and she’s not dumb. he doesn’t want to go. he only wants to earn brownie points with her mother so maybe she’ll keep him around longer than the other men that she lets into her bed. sujin knows that, so she politely declines and he doesn’t push it.

then she’s in high school and she’s in her bedroom, watching some new drama on her television. it’s cute and she almost thinks it might be worth watching until it cuts to a scene of a family on vacation. there’s a mother and a father who appear to be so madly in love despite their three kids bickering in the backseat of the car. it instills a heaviness in her heart so strong that she reaches for the remote and turns the tv off.

as far back as she can remember, she’s always craved a family. maybe if she had a father, there would be someone to control her mother’s reckless spending, her mistreatment of sujin. maybe if she had siblings, she wouldn’t feel so much pressure to be the perfect daughter. maybe there would be someone that she could share her thoughts with, someone that could understand her.

and she knows that family isn’t perfect. she knows that there would be pointless arguments and misunderstandings would arise along the way, but if anything, that only makes her wish she could experience it more. after all, it has to be a step up from the lonely life she’s been given.

RED.

she’s a dreamer. it’s one thing that no one can take away from her—not because she’s fiercely determined, but because she’s quiet about her wishes. she keeps her daydreams under lock and key because she knows herself well enough to know that if someone tells her she can’t do it, she’ll give up.

but when she closes her eyes, she doesn’t see darkness. she sees paintings hung neatly on pristine white walls, floors so clean that the whole place seems to shine. she sees families, couples, kids, critics and everyone in between walking from artwork to artwork, observing. understanding. appreciating.

there’s one painting that sticks out to her, although it’s blurrier than the rest. she can’t quite see the contents and she can never seem to remember the colors, but there’s one part that’s crystal clear—her signature in the bottom right corner. it’s a new painting, freshly unveiled, and that fact doesn’t change no matter how many times she lets her mind drift away to this safe place. there are people crowded around this painting, voicing words of praise and admiration for the new artist.

for someone who doubts herself so much, this dream is one thing that she’s trying desperately to hold on to. trying to believe in. because if she lets herself have one goal for the future, then even the worst days don’t seem so bad. and almost, almost, her black and white world turns to color.

[thevampirediariesdiary]

1.09 History Repeating

The episode’s called “History Repeating”, so OBVIOUSLY it’s about the brothers, a perfect snapshot of their broken, broken relationship - with hints about just what parts of their history might come back around.  

This is the first episode with Alaric!  Despite being genuinely cool, he hits every single “new teacher trying to be a bro” trope like he’s checking them off a list: making fun of his name, telling the students they can call him Rick, and literally throwing the previous teacher’s files in the trash.  When explaining an extra credit history assignment to Jeremy, he literally says “make it sing”.  Rick.  That is not a helpful instruction.  

Stefan is giving Damon the cold shoulder...understandably...  Damon offers up a peace offering: coffee, to help with circulation.  I hereby offer a formal apology for making fun of the caffeine vampire fact two episodes ago.  It did in fact come back up again.  Show continuity, I should have had more faith in you.

Stefan ignores the coffee, so Damon offers a truly half-assed apology: “I got the town off our back, it was for the greater good, but I’m sorry, and to prove it, I’m not going to feed on a human for at least...a week?”  Shirtless Stefan, aka the Platonic Idea of Abs, wanders out of the closet and says “Because I realize that killing your closest and oldest friend is beyond evil and yet somehow...worthy of humor?”  Damon says, “Are you mimicking me?”  “Yes, Stefan,” says Stefan.  “Now that the secret society of vampire-haters is off our back, I can go back to my routine of ‘how can I destroy Stefan’s life this week?’”  Damon pipes up, “And I can go back to sulking, and Elena-longing, and forehead-brooding.”  And adds, “This is fun, I like this.”  “And I will finally reveal the ulterior motive behind my evil and diabolical return to Mystic Falls,” says Stefan.  “Yeaaah I’m done,” says Damon, then shifts back into dopey-Stefan voice: “That’s just like you Damon, you always have to have the last word!”  It’s a weirdly comfortable level of banter, given that Stefan was considering literally killing him one episode ago, but you get the feeling that this is the only way they know how to cope.  Plus, it’s a great bit, so I don’t even care if it’s out of character.  

Caroline yells at Matt for saying “hey” to her repeatedly, as it “reeks of awkward subtext”, and is a “lame guy move”.  He accuses her of reading into the same thing he’s said to her every day since the first grade, and says it’s a “lame girl move”.  I identify the heck out of the introspection spiral Caroline is clearly on.

Stefan tells Elena that he won’t be coming back to school; he’s gonna back off, keep his distance.  “Back off from school or from me?” Elena asks.  Stefan doesn’t answer, just says, “It’s better this way.”  “Yep, I got it,” Elena bites out.  “You’re angry, that’s good,” says Stefan, “it’ll be easier if you hate me.”  It’s condescending and paternalistic and I hate it.

Damon is still pestering Bonnie about the crystal.  “I’ll scream,” she threatens.  “Ohhhh noooo, don’t do that, let’s stay on point,” he says.  Started at the bottom...?  But it freaks Bonnie out enough that she tells Elena, and Elena tells Stefan, and Stefan promises to figure it out.

Jenna, staring at Alaric across the room: I like a man who can dine alone.  Quiet strength. Jeremy: I thought you were still in that Logan-depression thing. Jenna, in the Most Me sentence ever spoken: Oh, I’ve sworn off men forever, but it doesn’t mean I can’t observe them from a safe distance. 

Jenna says Jeremy’s dad had a box of stuff, the-Gilberts-came-over-on-the-Mayflower stuff.  This means the Gilberts and I have ancestors who were buddies!!  Or we would, if it was not Literal Historical Fact that my Mayflower ancestor was a terrific asshole whom No One Liked.

Stefan picks up the brother-impersonation bit again at the bar: S: So, Stefan! You know, I’ve been thinking. I think we should start over, give this brother thing another chance.  We used to do it oh-so-well once upon a time. D: I DON’T, Damon.  I can’t trust you to be a nice guy, you - you kill everybody, and you’re so mean...and...you’re so mean.  ...you’re really hard to imitate, and then I have to go to that lesser place.

Caroline, Bonnie, and Elena attempt to have a manicure night, but it turns into Bennet crystal drama, which I am 200% over.  “What is going on?” Caroline asks. “Why am I not a part of this conversation? You guys do this to me all the time.”  Elena says that’s not true, but Bonnie says it is - she can’t talk to Caroline, because Caroline never listens.  Caroline’s apology speech is fantastic: “It’s just not me.  I don’t believe in the *ooooohhh ghost noises*.  But if you do, then - okay.  I’m in.  That’s what it takes for me to jump on board, because I consider you my best friend, and I’m saying this knowing that Elena’s in the kitchen listening to my every word.  Look, I didn’t know how real this was for you, but I’m listening now, okay?”  I feel like this captures something important about Caroline - she’s not self-centered, precisely, she just assumes everyone’s seeing the same world she is, and placing importance on the same things.  But once she figures out that something is a big deal for her friends, it’s a big deal for her, too.  

Damon: I’m impressed, Stefan.  Fun with booze and darts, sentimental with football, and now: starry night.  ...what do you want, Stefan.  Stefan, seriously: It wasn’t real, Damon.  Our love for Katherine.  Damon, sotto voce: Oh, god.  Stefan, doggedly: She compelled us, we didn’t have a choice.  It took me years to sort that out, to truly understand what she did to us.  Damon: Oh, no, Stefan.  We are not takin’ that on tonight. Stefan: What do you want with Katherine’s crystal? Damon: How do you know about that? Stefan: Come on, you knew Elena would tell me. Damon: How’d you know it was Katherine’s? Emily gave it to her on her last night.  I was with her and you...weren’t. Stefan, defiantly: I was the last one to see her, Damon.  Now, what do you want with Katherine’s crystal? Damon, trying desperately to remain smug: She didn’t tell you? Stefan: We had other things on our mind. Damon: I could rip your heart our and not think twice about it. Stefan: Yeah, I’ve heard that before. Damon: I have a bigger surprise, Stefan.  I’m gonna bring her back.

OKAY SO ABOUT THIS.  First of all, how have they never talked about this before???  It has almost been one and a half CENTURIES.  Second: For someone who starts off trying to convince Damon that all the Katherine feelings weren’t real, Stefan sure seems like he’s still invested in which of them was loved by her more.  Instead of saying “I knew it was her crystal because she compelled me to be there that night and not tell you”, he says he was the last one to see her, like it’s some competition and he won?  And “we had other things on our mind”??  What are you doing?  This is a particularly dumb strategy because it’s CLEAR that Damon has not achieved ANY distance from the whole love triangle; his face when Stefan tells him he was with Katherine that night goes from this:

Shattered trust and suffocating inadequacy, to this:

You can SEE HIM deciding to play his last card, to finally one-up his little brother whom everyone loved more.  And then RIGHT BACK to the sudden-but-inevitable-betrayal look when Stefan basically says they were too busy having sex and bein’ in love to talk about jewelry.  EDIT: I just realized maybe Stefan did this on purpose to get Damon unsettled and angry enough that he would spill his secret?  If that’s the case, it was half brilliant but also insane...since unsettled and angry Damon, at this point in the show, tends more to violence than he does to truth-telling. 

Anyway, we get the tomb spell revelation.  “Did you know witches can use celestial events to draw energy into their magic - pssh, me neither!” says Damon, perfectly proving the point I made here.

This shot, of Jeremy being super pissed when he opens his front door and Elena and Caroline are standing there screaming? 

That’s how I felt through the whole seance sub-plot in this episode.  Also in aww-poor-Jeremy moments, he’s minding his business going through his dad’s boxes when his aunt and his history teacher come home like this:

The show is HEAVILY implying Alaric is a vampire, by the way.  He has a gaudy ring which he says belonged to his father (spoiler alert, that’s a lie), and he does the whole look-pensively-at-the-lintel thing while standing in the doorway.  “You know what, I’m not gonna invite you in,” Jenna tells him.  “Some other time,” says Rick, looking cocky as hell.

Emily Bennet possesses Bonnie and takes everybody to the woods, where Stefan learns there are multiple tomb vamps.  “I don’t care about them, I just want Katherine,” says Damon.  “This isn’t about love, is it, this is about revenge!” Stefan accuses.  “The two aren’t mutually exclusive!”  Emily-as-Bonnie destroys the crystal, despite Damon’s agonizing pleading, and then when Emily leaves, Damon attacks Bonnie. Stefan saves her; Elena gives Damon dagger-eyes which are somehow still a little...disappointed?

And here’s what’s arguably the biggest revelation of the episode, delivered by Damon, tears in his eyes: “Katherine never compelled me.  I knew everything, every step of the way.  It was real for me.”

Elena makes another bid for togetherness with Stefan: “I thought I couldn’t be with you, but I can!  You don’t have to push me away, I can do this.”  “I can’t,” says Stefan, and tells her he’s leaving town.  The back and forth is already driving me insane, and we’re only on episode nine.  Oh, long-form television and your contrived stalling.

Matt climbs into Caroline’s window to tell her “We cuddled, and it creeped me out.”  He needs to improve his communication skills.  But they figure it out, and then eat junk food in her bed, adorably.  Damon sits where Stefan left him, and stares into space, broken.  Stefan throws an old journal across the room and breaks down crying, looking like he’s finally lost control.  Elena confesses everything to a very shaken Bonnie.  And last but not least, Logan Scum-Bucket Fell turns up on the Gilbert doorstep, and asks, “Aren’t you gonna invite me in?”

Music Moments: Barcelona’s “Come Back When You Can” plays over the closing scenes, presumably referring to Katherine - “come back when you can / let go, you’ll understand / you’ve done nothing at all to make me love you less / so come back when you can”.

Eyebrow Watch: “Yeaaaah I’m done”

And a Very Special Edition of Eyebrow Watch, featuring Stefan-as-Damon:

previous episode  next episode

[april-kingrose]

Discordant Chords

EXTRA LONG TEXT POST INCOMING

Parry, parry, then strike.

I repeated this in my mind as I moved to the beat of a piano being played in the room across from me. Focused, and precise movements, each radiating with a sense of profession. So complex, yet so simple all at the same time. I could feel myself getting stronger.

It had been a year since I took leave to study for my Sorcery Trial, and ever since then I trained every day. Practicing my wind and sound magic, perfecting the fluidity of my spells.

In Arcus, those who go into the profession of Sorcery through the Academies are destined to fight a witch, taking her powers if lucky enough. Although many have died because of these trials, I had a strong sense of hope coursing through me, but there was still a tinge of something deep within. Maybe it's fear, or maybe it's ignorance. Even selfishness, or guilt could be what I'm feeling.

I take in a deep breath, feeling the weight of the world lift from me for just a second. Eyes closed, I sway in place to the sound of the piano. It stops abruptly.

"Sonata?" I hear a young female voice say. My eyes shoot open, as I send my gaze to the doorway. It's my little sister, Decibella.

"What are you doing?" She asks, looking over to my desk, which had countless empty ink vials, broken quills, and a singular grimoire containing something similar to sheet music.

"Oh, I was just listening to the music." It wasn't a complete lie, but it wasn't the entire truth either. She gives me a look that radiates confidence.

"Just listening to the music? I'd say you were studying for your trial." She gives a slight chuckle at the end of her sentence.

"Well little sister, my trial isn't a secret to Mother and Father anymore, so I'd say it's in my best interest to study and train." At the mentioning of our Mother and Father, her look goes from calm to slightly annoyed.

"If Mica hadn't said anything about your absence from the Academy, they wouldn't know. Where is he anyway?"

"I'm not sure" I answer.

"Besides, I thought you two weren't talking anymore?"

"We aren't talking”

She puts her hand up to her mouth as if to not let anyone else hear, but we’re the only two in the room.

“I never said anything about hitting him though!” She whispers loudly, a smirk appearing on her face.

Chuckling, I sit down at my desk.

"Well, you two should be careful with all of this fighting. I'm not gonna be able to protect you two from each other forever"

"Especially if you die on the 6th" A male voice says from behind Decibella. We both look over, and it's Mica, looking awfully tired, cigarette in hand.

He pulls out a lighter, lighting the dreadfully toxic object. He takes a hit, blowing out putrid smoke into the air, staring me down with what appeared to be a mixture of dread and apathy.

“Those trials aren’t pretty, and you know it.” Before he can take another hit from the cigarette, it is immediately extracted from his hand by an unseen force. It quickly makes its way to my hand.

“Mica, what have I told you about these things? They’re basically condensed suicide” He scoffs, ignoring my worry.

“And this trial you’re going to is an actual suicide. A gruesome, meaningless suicide.”

Using my wind magic, I send the cigarette rocketing down into my trash can on the other side of the room.

"She isn't going to die. She's got her magic of Sound and Wind! And her Singularity. Right Sonata?" Decibella beams at me.

I give them a patient smile, nodding. Mica crossing his arms, Decibella’s world filled with pride. In Arcus, we Humans all have a unique ability formed from our Souls. It's called a Singularity.

"She isn't going to die, because she isn't going" The third new voice cuts through the warm air, sending a chill down my spine. We didn’t even hear her enter the room, our Mother.

Not going to the trial?

Confused, I stand up, getting between her and the twins.

"What do you mean I'm not going to my trial?"

"You have a performance on the 6th, remember? Down at the theater" She says coolly, staring me down.

"You're going to go to your performance, and sing your little heart out darling.” She runs an icy finger along my jaw, reaching my chin. “And then after that, you have one at the Archon residence on the 7th. Then one on the 8th-"

I gently push her hand away from my face, cutting her off.”But my trial is all I need to become a full time Sorceress, isn’t that what you wanted from me?” Unblinking, she just calmly watches me, lips pursed. Her expression doesn’t retract its coldness when it changes.

“Sonata.” She says, voice cutting the air into millions of insignificant pieces.

I feel a knot in my throat, but I swallow it.

“Y-Yes?”

“Your Father and I have gone out of our way to make sure this performance is perfect for you. Is this how you’re going to repay us?” Reluctant to answer, I breathe calmly.

“No ma’am.” I answer, giving up. I can feel Mica and Decibella staring at me, and I can’t tell if it’s disappointment or confusion.

“Good. Your Father and I are leaving to set up the theater for Friday. We’ll be back tomorrow night, to help you prepare your outfit.” She looks past me, to the twins, eyes displaying a certain kind of disgust.

And with that, she left the room, quietly as she had entered.

***

“So you’re just giving up like that?” Decibella asks me, as I put on the dress that Mother had given me for the performance.

“I’m not giving up, I’m merely changing my mind.” I slip on my crystalline heels, testing the water.

“I don’t think you’re changing your mind. I think someone else is.” I stare at her, before approaching her, heels clopping.

“Are you suggesting that our Mother would be manipulating me?” I accuse.

She gives a sharp chuckle.”If your crystal heel fits!” She motions to my shoes. “And it definitely does fit!”

“Decibella, you have to understand where I’m coming from. I told you and Mica last night that it’s just not worth it, it’s better this wa-”

“Sonata, is that what you really think or are you just letting her put thoughts in your head?” She stared me down, brown irises fixated on mine. “You wanted to be a Sorceress, not a Singer!” Pointing a disappointed finger at me, her next words cut through my mind like knife.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be a Sorceress if you can’t even protect yourself from your own parents!”

Then suddenly, I heard a loud smack!

When I blinked, Mother was between me and Decibella. Looking past the woman’s ghost like figure, I saw Decibella holding her cheek in confused fear. Neither of us said a word.

“Sonata, the carriage is out front. I advise you make your way there quickly”

Immediately I started out of the room, my panicked gaze meeting my sister’s. It wasn't my fault, none of it. I know that Mother is only looking out for me and the twins, and I know that we all have to make sacrifices. It's the way Arcus works, it's just one big cycle of success and sacrifice. If I don't fall in line, it'll fall apart. I can't let that happen to my family.

Quickly making my way through the manor wearing my shimmering crystal heels, and my flowing indigo dress, something catches my eye. Looking into my room, I see my ink vial, quill, and Grimoire together on my desk. It may not seem like much, but they're more than just objects. They're part of my soul, the culmination of my drive. Looking at the clock on my wall,, the clock wall about to strike 11. it's time.

***

Sitting in the back of the carriage, I'm between Decibella and Mica. Both of which, were not happy with me. They were both wearing matching outfits, just different styles. Mica wearing a dark gray-blue suit with a fedora and vest, whereas Decibella was wearing a gray-blue suit with a skirt, heels and leggings. They both had their quarter note earrings in, and I always thought it was a cute way for them to express their love for each other without mention.

Coming back to the realness of the situation, I looked forward, seeing my Mother and Father in the seats in front of us. They hadn't spoken the entire ride. I decided to end the tension.

"Since it's just a day after schedule, do you think I could do my trial tomorrow? After tonight's performance?" I haphazardly asked, awaiting an answer.

Simply, my Father replied with "No."

"I didn't think so." I say, before giving a tiredly calm exhale.

Once we finally arrive at the theater, a long black rug is laid out, leading from our carriage to the inner workings of drama and mischief. A massive crowd of people surrounding us, cheering for us as we enter. Some faces red from cheering, some crying in excitement. “Sonata we love you!” “Sonata you’re gorgeous!” “Sing your heart out!”

How could I leave this?

Once inside, it feels like hours of being backstage before the Twins approach. They stand together, just looking at me.

"Yes?" I ask, reading their faces.

They both exchange glances, before Mica speaks.

"Lyrically, I compose my own doctrines."

"The belief that our lives are puzzles, and we can solve them." Decibella finishes.

"You taught us that, Sonata." She adds on. "You taught us a mantra, that you're not even going to follow."

Mica makes direct eye contact with me.

"Sonata, you have to solve your own puzzle. This is one we can't solve together!" Watching them, a grin forms on my face. I take them both by the hands

"I’m so proud of both you,.. Mica with your Wind, and Decibella your Sound...You’re going to make such a good team one day"

"Miss Treble, you're on" Someone calls nearby.

I release them both, standing up to face my destiny.

"W-What do you mean? What about my Sound? It's just magic!" She exclaims, latching onto my arm.

"Sonata, you're just throwing everything you've worked for away, don't you see how dumb you're being!?" Mica follows, also grabbing me.

I just chuckle in bliss, turning around to them.

"Don't worry about that you two, just enjoy the performance. I've got something special planned!" Seeing their expressions turn from disappointment to confusion made me want to stay behind, but I couldn't. I had a show to put on.

How could I leave this?

I step into the center of the stage. Lavender spotlight shining heated radiance onto me. Standing in front of a massive blue, white and purple stained glass window, I coolly grab the microphone.

I begin to sing a somber tune, the orchestra positioned in front of me. They begin to resonate with me, creating harmonies only thought to be a dream. The song progresses, growing in strength. I can see many audience members cheering for me as I blast out note after note. I can see my parents sitting towards the front, calm as rain. The atmosphere is always pure ecstasy at my performances, and I could never be more blessed. I hold my hands up, and motion for the crowd to calm down. They catch the memo, silencing.

i smile, nodding in thanks.

Here we go

"Everyone out there tonight, please realize something for me." My Mother shoots me a glare, in what appeared to be confusion. I could feel Decibella and Mica staring.

"Please realize that your thoughts and wants are valid, and that you have to do everything you can to meet your goals, no matter who tells you 'No' . "

I walk up to the front of the stage, in front of the orchestra.

I yell out to the audience.

"You're strong!" Cheers erupt from the crowd.

"We're all strong here!" They keep going.

I motion for the orchestra to deliver the finale. I begin to sing again, watching my Mother burn holes into my entirety.

Here comes the high note. the audience becomes silent once more as I deliver my final words.

How could I leave this?

With magic, of course.

From under my dress, I quickly pull out my Grimoire, quill and ink vial which had been resting in my inner pocket. The book suddenly flips open as I write out a magical symbol in the air with ink. Before anyone can react, I deliver the last high note, the symbol bursting into white light, the stained glass window behind me shattering into millions of pieces. The glass shards then blow into the audience, screams colliding with my note and the orchestra. Quickly looking over to Mica and Decibella who were in utter shock, I yell to them.

"Stay safe!" And with that, I jumped out of the window frame, vanishing into the night, the screams quickly fading out from my hearing.

***

"Alright, that's one pre-made spell wasted..." I say, flipping through my book of sheet music, a symbol missing from the first line. Strutting across a gray, murky path, my heels click with every step. My eyes are finally met with a small, hut like home. The familiar smell of parchment reaching me. I suck in a breath, shaking.

Why am I shaking? I've been preparing for this, I knew what I was getting into. Oh god why am I doing this?

A million thoughts race through my head at once, before I remind myself of Mica and Decibella. I have to see them again, that couldn't be the last time they saw me...Could it?

Shaking my head, I watch forward, as if waiting for something to move. The Witch to suddenly appear, or my parents to drag me away from the danger. Hell, maybe even the audience members who I could've killed with the glass fragments.

I hope they're okay, now that I think about it.

I didn't just ruin my performance, scare my siblings half to death, and run through the woods in a pair of crystal heels just to give up now. The book, vial and quill all levitate around me as I walk.

I approach the door, the oak wood dull from the elements. I hold up a hand as if to knock.

Wait what am I doing? I'm going in to kill someone, I don't have time for knocking!

Shifting my stance, I push my hand forward, using a wind current to force the door open, sending it off it's hinges. It flies into the darkness, a couple of seconds pass before a loud crack erupts from the shadows. Confused, I peer inside. Black ocean of isolation so thick, so deep. I step into it, walking several feet.

Suddenly, purple flames flicker all around the room, revealing a massive temple like interior. I turn around, seeing the door frame I walked through is now gone. When I turn my head back around, I'm face to face with a girl not much older than me. Medium choppy navy blue hair resting on her shoulders, an indescribable expression on her face. This was the witch, this was my target.

I wanted to reach out to hit her but...Something held me back. She's just a girl, and I don't know her. I have to kill her. But...She's just a girl and I don't know her, I can't kill her.

"So?" Her voice is smooth, and it brings me out of my personal stupor.

"S-So?" I stammer.

"You're Sonata Treble, aren't you?" She eyes me up and down, taking in my presence. It wasn't a look of gratitude, or excitement, or anything. It felt like a look of pity.

"Yes I am, and you are?" I stand my ground, remembering my purpose here.

"Ato. But you can call me Stylus" She says, winking at me.

"Why?" I ask, blushing. She leans in to my face, getting awfully close.

"Because Ato is my last name, Stylus is my first. Duh." She backs up, laughing at her own tomfoolery.

I sigh, grabbing my quill. I point it in her direction, trying to instill fear.

"You know why I'm here Miss Ato, and you know what I'm going to do. I'm gonna-"

She puts a finger over my mouth, eyebrow raised condescendingly.

"You're gonna kill me, thus taking my magic so you can become a Sorceress?" She flashes a mischievous grin. I push her hand away.

"How did you...?"

"This ain't my first Sorcery Trial sweetheart" Her eyes flash a bright blue. I can feel my face flush, as an overwhelming sense of dread attacks my mind.

"Wait hold on a secon-"

Suddenly, she's at my throat, lifting me. Pouring from her mouth and eyes was a runny, black liquid that seemed to have a mind of it's own. It was pure ink.

I let out a cry of panic, my quill making its way to my hand. I write out a quick symbol in ink, between me and Stylus. She's then forced backward, the ink splattering on the wall behind her. I fall to the ground, stumbling.

As I stand, she laughs maniacally. The ink on the wall become reminiscent of icicles, except they were horizontal. Sharp, long, ink needles pointed right at me. I grasp my Composer's Grimoire, flipping through the pages.

With no time to think, I draw out multiple overlapping symbols for my wind current spell. They're set aglow instantly, as the hundreds of ink needles fly at me. They're all stopped midair, before they're forced backwards at Stylus.

Keeping the same look of malevolence, she holds up a hand. As the ink needles approach her, they all turn back into an inky liquid, splashing against her figure. The ink pools itself into a potent liquid sphere in her hand.

She throws it into the air, and it splits apart, ink rockets firing towards me. I draw a circle around myself on the ground, an air current sending me soaring into the air. The ink follows close behind. I redirect the ink with yet another current, sending it back at her.

This time, it pools down at her feet. She watches me fall back to the ground, watching me with neon blue eyes.

"You're strong" She says, same tone as previous.

"I know" I respond, keeping calm, although breathing heavily.

She begins to walk towards me. I shift my stance back into defense, and she just chuckles.

"It's okay to lower your guard sometimes hon, you can't stay so defensive forever." I don't take my eyes off of her once.

"Not while you're around, you-"

"Witch? I'm a witch! Wow! So what Sonata? Do you think I'm automatically worse than people because I'm a Witch? The good witches in Arcus get pampered, while we 'evil' hags get killed for living." The malevolence was gone, as was the benevolence. This was a girl who was real.

"Do you think i'm evil Sonata?" She gets closer again, all sense of flirtatiousness gone.

"I-I don't know, I don't even know you" I stutter out.

"Yet you want to kill me?" A look of confusion in her eyes.

"Just so you can get a job? Just so you can go die by the hands of someone else?! You're younger than me, and you want to do something so barbaric, so STUPID!"

Her words hit my heart like a sledgehammer, knocking away at walls. She was right, but what choice did I have?

"Sonata. If you kill me, you're gonna leave a little girl alone. No Parents, no Sister. No protection. Do you want that on your mind?"

"I can't just go back to my parents, do you know what I've risked tonight? Hundreds of people could be injured because of me!" I admit, it was a dumb way of escaping.

"But that was your choice Sonata, your choices affect others." The ink around her was rippling out from her center.

"If you kill me...Two children will be left alone, with neglecting, terrible parents. I can't let that happen Stylus...Choice is such a gray area nowadays, and I don't know what's right anymore. None of this is right." I hold my Grimoire, my hair blowing in an absent breeze.

She sighs, the ink running up her body, to her arms.

"Then I guess that's it."

The ink on her arms extend into massive fists, grabbing me. The ink fists push me back into the wall with a slam! I can feel the wind being pushed out of my body, and I can feel the pressure building. She's going to crush me to death.

I watched more ink splash onto the ground from Stylus, pooling once more. Then, the needles began to form again.

"I'm sorry for this." She says, somberly. The ink needles rocket at me, coming right for my face.

I struggle to move under the pressure of the ink keeping me in place. I feel a tug of something under the ink, something unnatural. I feel around, and grip my quill.

My weapons still want to fight...That's good news.

I can't die here. Decibella and Mica need me.

I let out a scream of strength as I force my arm through the ink, writing out an entire line of symbols in front of me. They collect the ink needles, then redirect them right back. Sighing, Stylus jumps into the air, hopping right over it.

With one quick swoosh of my quill however, my being glows a bright periwinkle, as does the ink. The ink then splits apart into millions of pieces, cloning itself. The clones appear from all directions, all directed at Stylus.

My Singularity, Staccato. The ability to create clones of an attack that come from different angles, with increased strength.

Stylus' eyes widen in shock, and before she can react to any of the attacks coming at her, the needles stab right through her, sticking right into the ground. Her body fidgets for a second, before going limp.

The ink hands keeping me in place wash away, losing their solidarity. I fall to my knees, watching her blood drip onto the ground, mixing with the ink.

I stand, book, vial, and quill floating beside me. I slowly walk up to Stylus' limp body.

As soon as I'm close enough, her arm slings up, latching onto my arm painfully. She pulls me right to her face, eyes inky, black holes now.

"You made your own choice Sonata. That's the right one, always." Her voice is sharp, but also relieved.

A cold chill goes up my spine as the color drains from her body, literally. The colors then flood themselves into my heart, mind and soul, filling me with the powers of this Witch. Looking over at my almost empty ink vial, it began to fill back up with no outside influence. My pages then began to fill back up, symbols lining the pages, ripped out sheets appearing once more.

I stare at her once more, before closing my eyes.

"I'm sorry too."

I make my way out of Stylus' lair, covered head to toe in ink, and blood, i head towards the Sorcery Academy. Filled with a newfound outlook on sacrifice, and a newfound power, I think I'll make a great Sorceress.

I just have to keep striking after I parry

Parry, parry, then strike.

Parry, parry, then strike.

Parry,parry, then strike.

[mbavholidayexchange]

to @loftydreamsproductions from @dxlilith

title: did you miss me?

rating: general audiences

summary:

She knows if Sarah was anywhere in Whitechapel it would be at Ethan Morgan’s house. Cleaning up his and Benny’s mess or saving them or actually babysitting Jane.

ao3 link: link

content:

Erica stands under Micky’s Pawn Shop awning staring at the black screen of her phone. It died a while ago despite telling herself several times throughout the day to charge it. She hadn’t so much as found an outlet. She lets out a sigh of frustration and almost chucks the phone against a brick wall but remembers at the last second that this is her third one this month.

The sky is falling. A thunderstorm not once predicted by any meteorologist this week in full swing. It put a literal damper on things but Erica was determined to make this work. If only she could get a hold of Sarah. She debates internally about just setting out. She knows if Sarah was anywhere in Whitechapel it would be at Ethan Morgan’s house. Cleaning up his and Benny’s mess or saving them or actually babysitting Jane.

“Fine.” She says out loud, shoving her useless phone into her jacket pocket and running out in the direction of the Morgan home. Despite the use of her vampiric speed, rain was still rain and the two minutes it took her to make it onto the porch, she was soaked through. Thankfully an all black outfit would remain opaque when wet.

She rings the doorbell. Unlike Sarah and Rory, she had never once been invited in so she couldn’t just break through the door. She hears footsteps and the door swings open to a slightly confused Ethan.

“Erica! You’re looking...soggy.”

“Astute as ever dork. I’m not here to chitchat, is Sarah here or not?” She scans the entryway and finds Benny running up the stairs, gangly arms flailing to keep from falling upwards. A feat even Erica had to appreciate was hard to accomplish.

“Uh Sarah? No, uh...haven’t seen her since Friday at school.”

“Why are you lying to me?” Erica presses in, relishing in the fact that Ethan steps back to get away.

“Lying? I’d never lie to...”

“Listen here durfnerder.” Erica grabs Ethan by his shirt and pulls him up onto his tiptoes so that he is forced to look into her yellow eyes. “I can smell your lies and old spice. Where is Sarah?”

“Uhhh, I....um...she told...”

“Put him down Erica.”

Doing as she is told, Erica puts Ethan down into a heap on the floor to watch Sarah come down the stairs. She’s wearing a lilac dress that exposes her shoulders under her favorite denim vest. The hem floats up every step she takes down. Though her soft features are marred by the look of contempt on her face, she remains as beautiful as the day Erica met her in middle school.

“Hey Sarah, missed me?”

“Missed you? Missed you?! You disappear for weeks with zero communication! Of course I missed you, you asshole!” Sarah takes the last few steps two at a time and runs straight into Erica, wrapping her small arms around the taller girl’s waist. “I was so worried.”

“I’m okay. I had a few things to take care of.” Erica whispers, wrapping her arms around Sarah’s shoulders. This felt nice. It felt worth it. She lets herself be hugged and feels all the pent up rage and stress of the last three weeks disappear. She doesn’t even care that Ethan remains sat on the floor of his entryway, staring openingly. “Can we talk?”

“Yes. You have a lot of explaining to do.”

Erica probably would have picked a nicer place. Something with ambience and twinkling music. Somewhere where the soft candlelight would dance onto Sarah’s beautiful brown skin and alight her honey eyes. But the tacky and under-kept booth of

Whitechapel’s oldest diner would do just fine.

“At first I wasn’t worried. I figured you had found some guy to fixate on or went on a blood binge at the frat house again. But then, not even Rory had seen you and I got worried. You have no idea how many times I just stared at your last text. I was so scared bbl dnt wry would be the last thing you every said to me.” Sarah is rambling, worry obvious in her voice. Sure she’s smiling and eating her fries but Erica knew better.

“I’m sorry. I had...a lot on my plate.”

“So tell me! You’re my best friend. Forever remember?” Sarah wipes her hand on a dusty brown napkin and reaches out to place it on top of Erica’s.

“Not for long.”

“What?”

Erica doesn’t answer Sarah. She takes her hand away and goes into her pocket. She produces a rounded glass vial. It’s less than two ounces of a blue liquid capped with cork. “I left to find this for you.”

“For me?” Sarah looks at the vial but has no recognition. “What is it?”

“A cure.”

“What?”

“You ladies enjoying everything, need any....”

“No.” Both girls answer the waitress, immediately dismissing her without breaking eye contact with one another. When she backs away, Sarah is the first to speak.

“When you say cure, you don’t mean...”

“Juice to defang you? Yeah. That’s exactly what that is.”

“Where? What? How? Erica...”

“You told me that there was only one thing you wanted more than anything in the world and if it’s not me, I figured I could just get it for you.”

“Want you...Erica hold on. What makes you think I don’t want you? You are like the most important person in my life, vampire or not!”

Erica winces. She knows what Sarah means and it’s nice but not what she wants to hear. Now or never she thinks “Sarah, I...I love you. As more than a friend. More than a sister. I...I like...love love you.” There. She said it. Simpler than the grand speech with flowers and serenade she always pictured but easier than watching Sarah kiss someone else.

“Erica.” Sarah almost whispers, her lips parting at the last syllable

“It’s...it’s okay if you don’t feel the same. I, I get it. I, uh, I realized a while back that maybe I wasn’t so much into guys as I was into you. I...” Dream about you, fantasize about holding hands and kissing you and playing with your hair. Is what Erica wanted to say. “Anyway, I got this for you because I want you to be happy. It wasn’t that hard, just lots of finding old dudes and shaking them up for...” Erica doesn’t finish her sentence because there’s a clattering of plates and the sloshing of forgotten coffee onto the floor. There’s also a pair of soft, cool lips pressing onto hers.

Imagination has a funny way of playing out. Sometimes it follows reality as close to the letter as possible. Other times, people have wings and marry you with a gumball eyes. But in the end, imagination isn’t real. Sarah leaning her entire body across the diner table was.

“I’ll just clean this up then.” The waitress’s voice pulls the girls apart. She’s smiling but not making eye contact as she mops up the mess. Sarah sits back down, the apple of her cheeks pinkish as she covers her mouth with two hands. When the waitress finishes up, Erica finally has the nerve to speak.

“Did you kiss me because...”

“I feel the same way about you as you feel for me?”

“What about Ethan?”

“He’s nice. But he’s not you. I...uh...I realized I might be interested in girls as much as I am boys. In eighth grade.”

“Eight grade?!” Erica almost shouts.

“Yeah. You wore that pink dress with too many frills and your hair was a mess and you’d just gotten your braces taken off and I kinda couldn’t stop staring at you. You looked so beautiful and I, I just knew.”

“Sarah.”

“Why did it take so long for us to figure this out?” She chuckles, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. It reveal a small heart earring that Erica had gotten Sarah two months previously for her birthday.

“Maybe the durfnerders aren't the only dumb ones.” Erica smiles, leans her head against the palm of her hand when she puts her elbows on the table.

“Maybe. Maybe not as dumb as them but pretty close.” Sarah giggles and the sound of it trills into the unbeating heart inside Erica’s chest.

“So are you gonna, you know...” Erica eyes the vial then looks back at Sarah.

“I...I don’t know. I...it’s a lot to process.”

“What’s there to process? Drink this and it makes you human.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You’re gonna stay a vampire, aren’t you?”

“Well yeah, I mean, I love it. You’re the one that never...”

“I’ll die.”

“What? No you won’t, I made sure to beat up all the right....oh.” Erica stops herself when she realizes what Sarah was referring to. “You mean because humans die.”

“Yeah.” Sarah looks down at her fries. They had shifted across her plate onto the placemat and table, tiny crystals of salt scattered everywhere.

“Vampires can die you know. We’ve gotten rid of a bunch of them ourselves.”

“Erica, you know what I mean."

“Can we just go back to the part where you’re kissing me?”

“We can, but I think I need a little more time on turning back into a human.”

“I don’t understand. You literally have been brooding from day one about being part of the fang gang and now you have an out that you don’t even have to share with ANYONE. I thought this is what you wanted.”

“It is? Was? I don’t know. I just, knowing that you share my feelings, I...vampires don’t age. I’d be all old and wrinkly and you would still look like this. I might grow jealous and resentful. I might grow to hate you.”

“That’s....woah.”

A silence befalls the table as neither girl knows what to say next. It stretches out like cobwebs in an abandoned shed. When the waitress comes by with the check, she frowns at the changed atmosphere. She scribbles something onto her pad and rips out both copies, placing one in front of each girl.

“Thank you.” Sarah says automatically, not really looking at the slip of paper.

“Sarah?” Erica says, holding up her copy. Sarah looks at it and looks down at hers where the same thing is written. It makes her smile.

“Love is about figuring it out, together.”