#but it doesn’t make it any less incriminating

[chirpsythismorning]

“Mike said his life started the day he found El in the woods, which was technically the following night. What he said had nothing to do with offending Will because he went missing the day before.”

[gb-patch]

GB Patch Games: Sensitivity Reader Update

Okay, well I am able to make another statement before Rose does. I can now explain much more easily why I didn’t fire Rose. There’s been new developments with the leakers. The people behind this have doxed Rose’s discord account (please don’t go looking for it) and also shared a screenshot of an email that was sent to my support address months ago. They believe that incriminates us somehow, but really all it’s done is shown in broad daylight what they were doing and why I was defending Rose so much. If I had brought up that email as a connection to this myself people understandably would’ve thought I was making a conspiracy.

However, it is out now. Here is the story- a few months ago someone who wanted to remain anonymous sent me an email with a screenshot where Rose called me a cracker. And I told them I appreciated the concern but it’s alright, was there evidence of Rose being unkind to players? They had nothing. No response.

As an aside, yes, I have been aware for a long time that Rose uses crude language when talking about me. That doesn’t mean I’ve hidden how evil they were from players. It means I’m allowed to choose what I’m comfortable with. That original “reveal” didn’t shock or upset me in any way. Our Life is a sensitive, wholesome game, but I’m a full-grown adult. I’m not innocent or pure. The game I released before OL is XOXO Blood Droplets. Something I wrote and released to the public is full of crude jokes, curse words, and violence. It’s cartoonish and comical, but edgy. Rose themselves likes to BS with bad words and I’m not accepting abuse because I think getting called a pussy is funny. I know Rose doesn’t hate me or wish me any harm. Rose also isn’t causing “discourse” for me and my games on purpose, they were joking that bringing up serious topics is “discourse” to some people. Ironically, the leakers who did this are trying to make some “discourse” on purpose.

Regardless, I initially thought that email was from someone earnestly worried for me and that they moved on when it was clear I was fine. But that’s not what happened. Them and at least one other person have been waiting for months to bring this up again. They went through almost a year’s worth of Rose’s private posts to collect as many unflattering screenshots as they could, and then they didn’t send them to me. They posted them publicly. I had a suspicion from the get go that it was the same person/people from before who couldn’t prove anything to me in private. And if true, how horrible is it that a bunch of the comments they shared were crude language towards me, something they already knew I’d brush off as nothing. They decided for me that it was wrong and they wanted the rest of the players to do the same. Or even less charitably, those extra posts were simply there to make Rose look as bad and untrustworthy as possible and they didn’t care that I was comfortable with it. I could not explain everything we were thinking/feeling at first, but behind the scenes we were discussing how this was personally motivated and not a knee-jerk act without forethought. And we do know for certain at least the main people involved now, and they do have personal issues with Rose.

Also, if you still believe that they just wanted to help the game at any length because Rose is that huge of a risk, showing that email and framing something innocuous about me (not fainting at the word “cracker” and politely being open to more proof) as serious “evidence of wrongdoing” at GB Patch Games makes me believe they want to smear Rose so bad they’ll try to turn players against me as well. Plus, the post is framed as “this email was anonymously sent to me”, but we know from account details that the people who could’ve gotten those screenshots of the discord and email are the same people who sent that email and started this situation, which is embarrassing. I’ve confirmed the screenshots shared in the email to me and the original public post came from the same private, “venting-safe” discord server. There’s very few people in there. We know it’s still you and not a separate source. I can’t prove they think I’m stupid or in their way, but I can’t see how anything they’re doing is trying to be beneficial to the creation of OL: NF. They told me in the email they’d give me more evidence if I requested it and I was ready to know, but instead they went silent for months and then did this.

I want it to be clear that this doesn’t mean players can’t wonder if Rose has enough experience to be a sensitivity reader right now, or to worry they’re so invested in the game that it’s going to effect how objective they are with their feedback, or to say that Rose is flawless and has never done anything hurtful. However, I hope you can understand why I was on Rose’s side and couldn’t just fire them over this. It felt so incredibly unfair. If another person tries to get their way by doing this in the future, I will not hail them as a hero and immediately fire at the target. And I don't tolerate any racial harassment of any kind to anyone on my team.

If those people want to continue to share Rose’s private posts in retaliation, you can fuck off. If you somehow reveal now that Rose is secretly a murderer, I’m not gonna apologize and say I was so wrong about you. If you had tons of evidence of Rose being horrible to players, you should’ve sent it all to me and with full context to begin with in the email like you offered to do. I just don’t understand.

Any players who like to see someone’s least flattering points portrayed in the worst possible way and continue flocking to the leaks as fandom drama, I don’t want you in this fandom. I don’t want you to enjoy my games.

Anyone who has been truly hurt by this and are left confused and angry, I do completely understand that. I didn’t know how to handle this, and it made a lot of people not know how to keep trusting me. I am still looking into getting a community manager to help me better communicate with players, especially when something serious happens. And I’ll always be around for you to reach out to if you have doubts about anything.

[dykedvonte]

i ADORE how you describe benny! why do you think he slept with the courier AND left without killing them the morning after? i know the game designers had to have that happen but with almost every other option (unless you're able to convince him you'll stay away) ending with him attempting to kill you, i don't see why he wouldn't at what could be a perfect opportunity.

Benny is not at messy and petty as people portray him.

His “cowardly” or stupid actions are really pragmatic when you actually take the time to think about them from his point of view instead of “Omg he’s so goofy what a loser this is obviously a discussion a loser makes.” Before I get to sleeping with Benny I think explaining his other weird moves helps.

The first is by far him waiting for you to wake up before shooting you in the head. It’s an odd thing to do as it holds him up, gives you a glimpse of your attackers and doesn’t match the less than noble things he does like abandoning the Khans and how he took care of the singer in the all roads comic. But it makes sense. Benny has a rather strong sense of personal morals, skewed and contradictory as they are.

If it is a detriment to him and the Chairmen he becomes cold and calculated, he will leave you for dead or make sure you can’t get to him or them. It’s why he tries to kill you at first, per your contract you will hunt him down and that is very bad for a man trying to be discreet. But you seeing his face? Him apologizing about you being in the middle? He expected you to die, to never be found and in a way he puts your loose end to rest. He buries you in one of the few places that is specifically for a dead body. Benny doesn’t want unnecessary collateral and what he deems necessary/unnecessary really just depends of how he accesses you as a risk. It’s the same reason he leaves Emily Ortal alive. It’s very unlikely a Follower is gonna stop a plan for an independent strip even if they’ve been cheated.

It’s why he leaves the Khans. He already dislikes them but the Khans are still raiders/tribals like him and the other casino families. A rose by any other name and all that. Even if they made it and he paid they have such incriminating evidence against him that he’d never be able to stand up to them if they decided to hang it over his head. Yeah he’s making more unnecessary enemies but in his mind it’s that or having another very real threat over his plans.

Benny makes these assessments very quickly. It’s not that you’re some silver tongued charmer when you get him alone but that he genuinely thinks it’s better at this point to keep you alive and get you on his side than kill you. Of course, this is if you can convince him of that and not have him set a trap for you. When you sleep with him he basically thinks you’re fucked in the head, outside of the two bullets he put in there, and more curious and vengeful. It’s quick fun and he dips after because whether you mean to help him or not he’s now on crunch time as it’s impossible House won’t notice his Courier showing up sans one platinum chip.

Most of Benny’s actions towards other people is dictated by if he sees them as a liability. It’s very odd to think deeply about because it clashes with the cool cat persona Benny puts on but it’s very in line with his raider/tribal roots he keeps trying to erase. He gets vulnerable and drops the acts and gets with the Courier because there was no perceived threat, it’s like how Caesar invites you to the Fort even if you like are vilified thinking you’d just like listen.

It’s less the sensible thing to do and more the comfort of your playing field and not feeling threatened in the moment.

[pinkandpurple360]

Trying to analyse apology tour just feels like sorting through slop

The opening is bizarre. A silent treatment has blitz crawling back to be listened to, his personality has done a large backflip from the angry pained person he was the day before. To a grinning idiot trying to make his first fan like him again.

He is used in the same way now as he was in the stupid opening song of the previous - for “mean” careless sex jokes, to be contrasted against the overly sensitive weepy, whiny, half self pitying half self aggrandising “woe is me” Prince. Who is just so above that sort of thing because he’s a deep, generous, kind, occasionally naive and silly innocent romantic precious baby boi with sad backstory. Oh brother. Bring out the violins.

This type of bias from the solo author, Medrano, is just embarrassingly obvious. She gives stolas every win, all of his points are framed as right, she only lets the other character argue if he incriminates himself by warped facts, in a way that can contribute to stolas being right. She doesn’t even try and write this as an “argument.” It’s a case of her favourite OC evar educating and schooling the OC she is less fond of right now, with his superior mind and superior super deep beautiful emotions always put in a background of stars and constellations. Feelings that in truth, don’t go beyond “I want you around cause I’m lonely.”

In between making him cry and weep for our pity, she adds in moments of unfounded indignant behaviour, rage that his privilege dare be questioned, moments of malicious torment, and shaming. Copious amounts of shame. All to pleasure her audience with the satisfaction of stolas winning.

He is just enraged that his ‘feelings’ of attachement that define his identity at this point, are not being returned adequately with acts of servitude, praise, flattery, and gratitude. And while this biased scene is bad enough, Verosika has to be inserted to enable stolas and build him up as if Vivziepop isn’t doing it enough herself with this writing. Because as we probably all know, stolas doesn’t have any friends of his own. He only has Blitzøs adversaries to join with, or a loved one who Blitz is arguing with, to back him up because doing that makes blitz pissed off.

Nobody can defend stolas without just projecting their own feelings about something else, onto him. Or regurgitating his frankly irrelevant tragic backstory. Because this writer knows this is a very bare bones argument she’s trying to make. You have to squint terribly hard and erase a lot of events to make the owl look good and most importantly, look right. Because he isn’t. He’s a creep who believes he fell in love with his object and has never stopped treating him as just an object to throw gifts at in exchange for his loyalty.

He speaks in this whimpery, shaky but loud and overpowering voice, commanding the whole situation. But is given tears in his eyes between each breath enough that you don’t question it. It’s very hard to watch.

The party. What ensues is vivziepop having a slightly worrying fixation with torturing blitz and wishing death on him, using countless nameless voiceless characters as props. And all of them exist, of course, to be enablers of stolas and make him look morally good and correct. But they’re also made into such filthy commoners that the dear pretty clean beautiful prince is terrified of their barbaric rituals. Verosika while rich, is still his emotional support poor.

“He is better than him, he is better than all of them, he is better than everyone. He cries, he gives gifts, he sings songs about his lovely love. Stinky blitz only talks about penises and cloaca’s and says fuck. Stol’s is just so silly, he is baby. Poor baby. Speak from your heart baby.He deserves so much. He sings so fantastic. If you don’t think so, kill yourself.”

.

.

Definition of trying too hard. If you’re a writer and one of your OCs takes this much of an emotional hold over you, you need to stop writing and re-evaluate.

[1moreff-creator]

Regarding your revised Eden!Culrpit Theory Post:

If you're okay answering this, why do you believe that people who believe Hu is the culrpit have to be reading her actions in bad faith? You said that Eden taking the tape means there's more physical evidence for her being the culrpit so arguments about her putting on a facade come from less of a place of bad faith.

However, Hu's wire is involved with the crime & there's no explanation for how it got there. 'Nico took it' but we don't necessarily know that or how, so there's arguably no less reason to assume Hu could be involved as well.

This isn't meant to be inflammatory either, I genuinely just want to understand what you meant by that; I'm impartial one way or another but I don't understand why you would need to be reading Hu's actions in bad faith while you wouldn't also be doing the same for Eden.

ty for answering if you do, and if not ty for reading anyway. ♥️

Hey! Yeah, honestly, I feel I expressed myself pretty poorly in that section of the post you’re referencing, in fact I’ve decided to edit it because I believe it came off as more aggressive and meaner than I intended it to. So it’s fair of you to ask for clarification.

CW: Eden!Culprit, discussion of murder attempt

Technically speaking, both theories revolving around Hu trying to kill someone and Eden!Culprit require some level of “bad faith reading”, in the sense that suspecting anyone of murder is going to make you look at most of what they say in a negative light. So I was wrong to use that term with Hu. I think a more accurate way of saying how I feel about it (and keep in mind this is just my opinion) is that “the level of scrutiny Hu and her lines are placed under is not justified by the concrete evidence of the case(s).”

That should make my feelings a bit clearer. I see the tape’s disappearance from the gym as near irrefutable evidence that Eden is the culprit, so I’m willing to bend and twist her lines of dialogue to fit the evidence. Dialogue has an openness of interpretation that the tape, in my opinion, doesn’t, though I get why that’s not how everyone feels about it.

However, I don’t quite see an equivalent for Hu. The wire in the Ace crime scene doesn’t incriminate her any more than the turpentine used incriminates Rose, or the letter written to Arei (by itself) incriminates Eden. I can pretty confidently say that either Ace or Eden took the tape from the gym; I cannot confidently say that Hu took the wire to the gym.

Despite Nico being caught mid-murder attempt (and they admit they did try to kill Ace), Hu is nowhere to be seen; none of her dialogue afterwards implies she was there; none of Nico’s dialogue points to her being there (their secret quote doesn’t count, we don’t know if that’s gonna be said this chapter or not); unless there’s some method theory I’m missing here, I’ve never really seen a method that requires Hu to be there alongside Nico, and Nico never denies being the one to take the turpentine, meaning they must have been involved since the start. You get the idea.

You need to somehow get around all of that if you’re going to believe Hu is involved in the Ace case, plus the fact that a lot of her dialogue seemingly contradicts the notion at first glance. Meanwhile, the only assumption Nico!SoloAceAttacker requires is that Nico, somehow someway, was able to take the wire at some point; and given there’s precedent to believe they can and would do something like that (turpentine), I find it quite easy to believe.

Obviously, it’s a matter of opinion. To some people, the wire is a smoking gun that proves Hu’s involvement, the same way I feel about the tape for Eden. And I guess, in that case, I can’t really blame them for reading Hu’s dialogue in a different manner. For me, though, the wire has perfectly acceptable workarounds. And I feel Hu being involved in either crime scene makes far more assumptions than simply saying Nico did everything themselves, which then by Occam’s Razor makes me inclined to believe the latter.

Thanks for the ask, and sorry if anyone felt hurt or offended by my original wording, it really wasn’t my intention.

[highdreaming]

Preferences: You being involved in a cheating scandal

💢 All the works are pure fictions, for entertainment purposes only so please, read it at your own will.

Find more at: Masterlist

» Pedri + Gavi + João Félix

AN: Please like, reblog and give me feedback!

Also, give me cool ideas for these preferences, I'm liking doing them.

--

Pedri 

When some photos of you allegedly cheating on Pedri are posted on the Internet, Pedri is gonna be very cold and distant towards you.

All the loyalty proofs you’ve given him during your relationship are ruined by the seed of suspicion that is now planted on Pedri’s mind. 

He can’t shake away what he’s seen and read online, all those accusations about you. Those incriminating photos: what if he doesn’t know the real you? What if you did lie to him about having an affair?

How can he trust you?

All of these doubts are gonna make Pedri distance himself from you, shifting to a more gloomy mood and everyone notices this change, especially you.

You assure him over and over again that you’d never cheat on him, that it’s not even you in the photos. It’s simply a similar girl with her back to the camera - you don’t even have those clothes. 

You do everything you can to convince Pedri that those are lies, but he still ends up asking for some timeout to think. 

Eventually, after a short period of time being miserable without you, Pedri realizes that he should have trusted you and he’ll beg you for forgiveness.

From now on, he’ll stay miles away from whatever fake rumors involving you. 

Gavi

Gavi is confused as hell, but also upset. Many questions haunting him: is there any reality to the rumors? He definitely doesn’t want to believe in it and he loves you so much that he’ll just pretend like nothing has happened.

He just shakes his head and convinces himself that it’s all a bunch of shitty lies, none of them true. But deep down, he’s gonna be insecure about it. 

If you don’t mention the scandal, then neither will he. He just lets it go, pretending like nothing ever happened. But Gavi is gonna change, becoming possessively clingy.

Always trying to be around you when there are guys involved and doing his best to keep them away from you to the point it gets utterly suffocating with your boyfriend trying to keep you to himself at all times.

He’s so moody and snappy when he sees you looking towards another guy and it drives you crazy when he literally starts fights with random guys just because they looked at you. 

It eventually leads to a fight between the two of you and you’ll end up finding out that he’s insecure about the possibility of those awful rumors being true. 

Once Gavi realizes that you’re innocent and it’s just the crazy fans creating drama, he’ll be much more at ease, going back to his normal self, deeply apologizing for all. 

João Félix

João is kinda used to being swamped in dating and cheating scandals.

His previous relationship also had the same issue and with time, he learned to ignore all the jealous people in the world and to focus on what really matters: you. 

He knows for a fact that you love him so much that you barely even acknowledge the existence of other guys. You love him just as deeply as he loves you. 

So, his response is simply to ignore the rumors. If you try to explain yourself to João, don’t bother: he’ll brush your worries away by assuring you that he knows that it’s just some pathetic gossip, that he trusts you with his life and that you don’t need to explain yourself. 

He goes as far as posting a few memorable moments you two spent together on social media, making sure the haters know that he’s living his best life with you and that no one, much less random strangers online, can destroy your relationship.

That’s how much he loves you. 

End of story. 

-----

[spiralinghours]

“Filth”

Fandom: Saw (obviously)

Pairing: Mark Hoffman x Peter Strahm

Rating: R (18+!!!)

Warnings/Content: humiliation, degradation, pig mask!, slight pig play (basically animal-esque name calling and degradation), feeding kink, weight gain kink mention, untouched release, mentions of eventual penetration and oral

Summary: Set during V while Strahm sneaks around the Gideon meat packing plant. After being attacked in the back halls, but before ever getting put in a trap, he identifies his captor… and it takes a sexually charged turn.

Author’s note: There’s not much plot to this and yes, you may read it and go “Why would they suddenly do that?” Because it was written on a very excited whim. Idk, comments welcome I guess? I dunno if I left anything out. Enjoy.

Upon sliding back into consciousness, Peter experienced the sudden dreadful rush of not knowing where he was, how long he had been out… how and why he was knocked out to begin with. Whatever had done him in had tranquilized him into a dreamy fuzz, even as he woke. The point of impact was making the dull soreness start to throb on the side of his neck, just between the thin, tight strings of muscle. An injection, that was it.

Fitting every little bit together, Peter noted that he sat upon a rolling office chair that looked and felt like it had been fished out of a dumpster. He wasn’t fastened down (yet, he warned himself, thankful just the same), but it looked as if someone was prepping him for something. His tie had disappeared… probably in the pile off a little ways where his knife, gun, badge, and wallet sat, like a QVC shopping display. With his buttons undone, chest haphazardly exposed, he wondered what procedure was connected to the strange tank hovering nearby.

Something else in the room had moved, though everything blended together into neutral obscurity. Still, whatever—whoever—it was was too late to leave or go unnoticed.

“Shit,” it murmured. It had a voice… a quiet and somewhat rough, familiar one.

“Wait…” Peter mirrored the low whisper. “I know… I know who you are!”

It was coming back, slipping into the correct cracks of fading memory. A masked figure, not as tall as himself but imposing no less, had stopped him as he descended down that back hallway in the meat packing plant. ‘Stopped him,’ Peter scoffed. Stabbed him, injected him, more like. He knew better, and this is what he got for proceeding without the patience for backup.

But the figure that brought him here had to be who was mumbling around in the darkness right across from Strahm. That wasn’t the only point of familiarity. The voice could be placed, Peter just knew, he just—

“Detective,” he breathed out, question mark hanging with uncertainty.

No response just yet, which had to mean he knew he was caught.

As Peter’s eyes adjusted to the silhouettes, he recognized how well the form did in fact match Detective Mark Hoffman’s sturdy, stout build. The fact that the previously unnamed figure had started shedding his bulky black coat to reveal a blueish button down and suspenders underneath was the incriminating nail in the coffin.

“You were told not to proceed,” Mark finally commented, mask still on in hopes of saving any last bit of his identity. “It was for your own good.”

“You motherfucker. I should have known. Shifting around the precinct, acting all nice but barely covering your tracks. You stupid idiot, you don’t have me fooled.” Peter stood up, not knowing why he hadn’t chosen to until now. “I got you!”

Mark shuffled cautiously over, something calculated in the way he stepped. For being put on the spot, he presented himself so calmly. “What’s happening here doesn’t leave this building, I can assure that.” As he leaned towards Peter, in an act of intimidation, his thick chest and belly grazed him softly.

Peter sizzled with something along the lines of rage, determination, and… foul, bitter intrigue. It wavered between that and contempt, but the confusing whirl perked a devious grin across his lips.

Mark, all the while, did his best not to drop his glance on Peter, who had already woken up way too early, before he could even put him in the cube trap. Now there was more room for other errors, wrong moves. Mark began lifting the mask up over his chin, wanting full, uninterrupted sight of his target.

“No, keep it on,” Peter insisted (instructed, more like) with a satisfied sneer. “Keep the pig mask on.”

“Freak,” was Mark’s muffled reply from within, layers of latex and a big snout making his annoyed grumbles come out like breathy snorts. (Peter enjoyed that.)

“Go on, gimme a little oink oink. A little squeal.” Peter’s thick, arching brows made his expression even more devious… downright hungry.

“Fuck you,” Mark exhaled, realizing his sharp eye roll went unseen. Despite the scathing response, something in the way Peter was pushing him, goading him, cruelly trying to make a spectacle of him made his knees unconsciously press together. Ugh.

“I’m waiting,” Peter went on in a sing-song taunt, hands resting on his hips. It wasn’t dissimilar to the mocking tone he used in interrogations more than occasionally.

“Oink,” Mark acquiesced flatly. “Cunt.”

“Ah, ah, that’s not nice. That’s not what I asked for.” Peter advanced, encroaching on Mark’s personal bubble. “I want to hear you really squeal,” he spoke in a low, hushed tone. Immediately, as if prepped to actually wrangle and tie up a hog, he thrusted himself over as much of Mark’s bulk as possible, throwing his arms around him from behind and wiggling his fingers into his sides.

He was being tickled, Mark managed to observe throughout the flinching and irritation. And not only tickled, but squeezed on at the most sensitive part of his hips—his thick love handles, nothing more than fluffy layers of excess.

He did, indeed, let out a reflexive sort of squee—much higher and shrieking than his normally low voice would imply.

“There it is,” Peter grunted against the neck of the mask, keeping himself low, dense, and tight over Hoffman. (He was generally leaner than Mark, sure, but he was broad enough to stay wrapped around him… Not to discredit the incredibly physical training of the FBI to be ready to tackle someone at just about any given moment.) “Fucking pigfuck.”

Despite trying to detach himself and accept what was actually happening (not at all expected in any version of his plans, no matter how much he was taught to anticipate), everything was overshadowed by the burning shame of how the current situation was making Mark feel. Deep in his core—and in his pants—he was throbbing, and the more he felt embarrassed and ridiculous for strangely savoring it, the harder he felt himself get.

“There are so many layers to this joke!” Peter cackled sourly, a twist of syrup in his voice. He really could be so disgustingly, deliciously rude. “A fucking cop parading around in a pig mask. In a Jigsaw mask. Wow, and here I thought your precinct was just stupid, messy, lazy even. Like I bet you are. But wow, now that I know what’s going on...”

Mark almost lost the plot, realizing he wasn’t struggling as much anymore, and that he probably should have been… or should have at least pretended. “What’s your fuckin’ angle?” he finally spat out, tilting his head behind him to Strahm (even though it didn’t further his advantage in seeing past the mask’s eye holes).

“Detective, I’m just playing. I’m having a little fun. And if you want this to stay under wraps—all of it—then maybe you’ll play too.” The tickling had ceased a minute ago, and Peter’s hands were just resting heavily on Mark’s hips, seeming to want to roam around.

Mark, meanwhile, couldn’t believe the greasiness of this FBI agent. Mr. Quaffed-Hair and All-Business (Anything-At-Any-Cost) was just as dirty and fucked as anyone in his own department. Damn. And a fucking pervert on top of it all.

But what was he going to do? Let himself get caught? Let this smug fed bastard win and take him in and smile about being a hero? Act like there wasn’t some sheer layer of fucked up pleasure in being degraded throughout it all?

Strahm had moved on to the next impulsive thought. Still clawing into Hoffman’s thick waist, he dug his finger tips in, letting them sink and press against tight fabric and pillowy flesh. He positioned his hands further to the front, hefting Mark’s belly and letting it wobble solidly. Then he did it again. There was a surprising lack of give to his gut.

“You been packing the donuts away, Detective?” Peter hummed. “Such a pig. In so many ways. I’m eating this up, you pathetic fuck.”

Mark could feel the snide grin curling up Peter’s angular face, burning right through the layers of mask between them. “Shut up,” he tried to shoot back, not at all believable or in line with his usual bravado. “What else do you want?” The logical part if his brain was asking in order to obtain the eventual outcome, the escape, the solution. But deeper south, the question was more asking “What else are you gonna do to me?”

“As much as I love this,” Peter emphasized his intention with a startlingly soft rub over Hoffman’s lower belly, “I want you on on the floor. All fours. Like the nasty, stupid animal you are.”

“Bitch,” Hoffman bit out, juxtaposing the way he complied, folding his sizable form down to the ground. His cheeks heated at the way his gut hung down, smoothing out any creases in the fabric, pressing tightly against his suspenders and maintaining contact with his thighs. He knew Strahm was looking, fixated, salivating. He wanted him to. Jesus, what was wrong with him?

Strahm stood tall over the sad, hulking visage of Hoffman on his hands and knees. He relished the view, stepping his heel down roughly on Mark’s lower back.

“I wanna see you just like that, with a little dish under that fat fucking face, just snorting and oinking while I watch you. You’d like that, huh? You filthy pig. You’ll stuff your face ‘til these pop off, won’t you?” Peter had basically sat himself onto Hoffman, as if he was a pony, and snapped at his tight suspenders to illustrate the point.

Mark, in turn, gave a regrettable sort of whimper, which, through the low oxygen under the mask, made him huff a little as well.

“Panting already?” Peter tsked. “You haven’t even done that much yet. And I haven’t even gotten to stuff you.” He craned his head low. “And I know you’d like that, no question. I’ll get you so fat.” He breathed out the last sentence with sugar dripping slowly, threateningly.

Mark absently ran one of his large palms from the crest of his belly to the dampening crotch of his pants, and back again. “You gonna fill me up?” he rasped out, trying to curve a little sarcasm, a little laughter into his tone.

“In more ways than one… if you’re good,” Peter grinned wickedly. “If you’re a good boy.”

“I’m a good boy,” Mark agreed huskily, trying to mask his eagerness. If only Strahm could see the way his eyes darkened, lids lowered, under the mask—the uncomfortable lust across his face. But he was nothing more than a blank, expressionless animal for Peter to use and admire.

It made Mark so flustered, so disappointed with himself. It made him hot.

“That’s right,” Peter went on, breathing heavier himself as he spoke, “you dumb animal. You’re already so turned on by this, huh? How I’m talking to you? Disgusting.”

“You’re the disgusting one,” Mark panted some more, words not necessarily cutting, but laced with pleasure and the seek for release.

“Yeah, and you love it. Now, if you’re gonna mess yourself like that, go ahead and finish. But you better keep those hands on the floor.”

“How the fuck am I—“

“I know you’ll finish, even without your grubby hands on your dick. Because you’re so close. You’re so fucking desperate.”

“You’re such a prick,” Mark (embarrassingly) just about whined.

Peter leaned down, still mounted on the dip of Mark’s back, mouth close to where his ear under the mask would be. “Yeah, and it’s getting you off isn’t it? So’s the idea of me coming into your office to find you leaned back in your chair like the big boss you are—” Peter’s voice squirmed into a dopey, mocking voice. “—shoving donuts in your face, too fucking round to even sit up. What a fine use of time and tax dollars. You’re so full and you’re stuck and you can’t even zip your pants back up, and just to make it worse, I come fill you up even more.”

Both men were admittedly getting shaky, heavy breaths filling the damp room like an echo chamber of horny, unfiltered babbling.

“Tell me, Detective, would you want to take it up your big fat ass, or would you rather suck me down ‘til you can’t take anymore.”

“Fuck you, Pete.”

“Only if you say please. Now what’s your answer, stupid?”

“Both,” Mark finally grunted, coming all sticky in his pants as he did so.

After finally yanking the mask off and flinging it across the room with fervor—sweaty, worn—Mark took the moment to catch his breath and try to buck Peter off of him, like a wild horse. He couldn’t quite manage, but Peter was nice enough to remove himself… before launching into a whole rant.

“So, the story goes, I came in here to do a sweep—a little preemptively, I’ll admit—but I did find you, the only survivor of Jigsaw’s game, and I helped you out of the restraints. The end.”

“You know, I could have gotten out of the trap myself.” Mark’s expression was somehow both dull and sassy at the same time. “Maybe a strap broke and I was able to undo the rest.”

“Yeah, a strap breaking on you I can imagine,” Peter teased, tone snarky and dry. “But no, Jigsaw doesn’t make mistakes, so that story doesn’t fly. You’d know that, wouldn’t you?”

Mark eased into that expression he often made when he wanted to roll his eyes without actually doing so. The corners of his mouth lowered into a skeptic near-smile, and his eyes flicked brightly under lazy lids. “Fuck you tenfold.”

“Maybe,” Strahm replied, a venomous grin forming. “I’ll be seeing you, Detective Hoffman. Maybe I’ll drop by your office sometime.” He marched ahead with fast footsteps, not once looking back at Mark.

Mark wondered when that office visit would be.

[porcelainmortal]

Happy Friday! You know I had to: 👀 Skinny dipping in the sea

Thank you for the ask, M! So sorry this took over a week. 🫣

I hope you don’t mind that I took some creative liberty here… I wrote skinny dipping in the sea already, but I wrote a one-off line in that ficlet about Alex & Henry skinny dipping in Nora’s grandparents’ pool and I couldn't stop thinking about it. I hope you like this version! 💕

👀 Skinny dipping in the sea

Henry never knew quite what Americans typically do on Memorial Day weekend, but he doubts it’s this.

He and Alex are spending the weekend at Nora’s grandparents’ house in Vermont. They invited everybody up for a few days of barbecue, yard games, and lounging by the pool. They have a very large, old colonial nestled in the woods, so everyone came – Alex’s mom and Leo, June, Nora, and even Pez – and they’ve all been having a great time.

Unfortunately, tiring himself out in every conceivable way doesn’t always result in sleep for Henry, especially when sleeping in an unfamiliar environment. So, when he gave up on sleep and got up to go read in the comfy chair in the corner of the guest room he and Alex are staying in, Alex noticed. And then he somehow coaxed Henry into sneaking down to the pool for a late night swim.

But as Henry watches Alex shuck his swimsuit off, toss a wink over his shoulder, and dive in, he finds himself both chagrined and grateful that he fell in love with someone so fully chaotic. Henry pushes his suit down and jumps in, surfacing with a gasp at how cold the water is. It’s so early in the season that the pool was just opened. Henry himself hasn’t actually been swimming yet this weekend and now he knows why. It’s actually taken his breath away and he glares at the laugh on Alex’s lips.

“You couldn’t have warned me first? Why on earth did you think this was a good idea?” Henry starts immediately shivering.

“Aw baby, you’re alright,” Alex says placatingly. He swims over to Henry, wrapping his arms and legs around him. “I know how we can get warm.”

“Impossible, seeing as how my balls have just shrivelled up and crawled back inside my body.” He stutters out through gasping breaths. 

“You’re so dramatic,” Alex laughs, leaning in to kiss him. It’s gentle at first and so familiar, though Henry nearly bites his lip off from shivering. But after a moment he sinks into it as their tongues find each other in a practised dance that actually starts to warm him from the inside.

They make out for a while, knowing that it can’t actually lead anywhere. It is too cold – for both of them – and they’re in the Vice President’s pool. If they left any incriminating evidence behind, suffice it to say that they’d never hear the end of it. 

Alex pulls back after a bit, breathless and smiling. 

“You warm enough now, Wales?”

“Not yet,” Henry grins, leaning in again. 

They float for a bit longer and then drift apart and play around, splashing each other until a light flicks on up on the second floor. They duck to hide under the edge of the pool before realising their suits and towels are sitting on the deck right next to it, giving them away if someone happened to look. When the light flicks back off, they spend a few minutes just laughing quietly together, listening to the crickets and the wind through the branches of the trees that surround the property. It makes Henry feel a lot less like the Prince of England and a lot more like a teenager who’s sneaking around after curfew.

Still giggling, Henry hauls himself out of the pool, shivering once again, and pulls his suit on before wrapping himself in a towel. Alex follows, doing the same, and they dry off quickly before sneaking back inside. As they’re about to head up the stairs, Cash steps out of the kitchen, apparently on the night shift. They all freeze in their tracks at once.

Cash just rolls his eyes and waves them off. They chase each other up the stairs, trying not to laugh at how loud they’re being. When they get to the top of the stairs, Henry glances back down to see Cash shaking his head and laughing. He realises that Cash must have known they were in the pool – and they thought they were being so sly. He turns to see Alex enter their bedroom and pivot in the open doorway, a wicked glint in his eye as he shucks his swimsuit again. All Henry can do is follow.

Ficlet Friday Summer/Holiday Prompts

[parkitaco]

byler 50 for the ask game i need this for reasons

Will Byers is good with secrets.

He hasn't had much of a choice, honestly, given the types of secrets he has. When he was younger, his biggest secret was liking boys. Then it was liking one boy, specifically, and then it was monsters and hell dimensions and government-issued secrets that he legally wasn't allowed to tell anyone. He'd never admit this, but those secrets were far easier to keep than the first two. He’s spent a good portion of his days learning how to keep quiet, how to omit information when necessary, how to keep his lies, on the rare occasions that he needs them, simple and believable.

(Okay, there had been one exception to the simple and believable thing, last year in that godforsaken van, but that was an outlier, okay? He’d been overtired and probably contact high and Mike had been freaking the fuck out, so he’d- he’d gone a little overboard with that one. Whatever. Everything turned out fine in the end - better than fine, even.)

Mike Wheeler, on the other hand, is not so good at keeping secrets. 

Will chalks most of this up to his boyfriend’s general lack of a filter - Mike has never shied away from saying what he’s thinking, and a lot of the time, what he’s thinking happens to be terribly incriminating. He knows that Mike has had to keep secrets too - secrets that, as it turns out, line up almost exactly with the ones Will’s been keeping. And to his credit, Mike had managed to keep most of those for a decent amount of time, but the ways in which he kept them were significantly- well, there was a lot less delicacy, in Mike’s case. 

Will doesn’t blame him for any of it, of course, because he knows how Mike’s brain works and knows that he doesn’t mean any harm, but it does make being his boyfriend - more specifically, his secret boyfriend - a bit tricky.

Like right now, for instance. They’re sitting in the basement with the rest of the Party, and Mike’s all curled up against Will’s side in an entirely incriminating manner. He’s also wearing Will’s sweater, which he could maybe have gotten away with under normal circumstances, but throw in the fact that this is the third time this week that he’s showed up in public wearing Will’s clothes, and- well, Will’s pretty sure the Party’s onto them at this point anyway.

“Mike, what do you think?” Dustin asks, and Mike stirs against Will’s side, blinking blearily at him.

“About what?” he asks absently, shifting and wriggling closer to Will, who is barely suppressing an eye roll.

Lucas looks like he’s on the verge of laughter. “Dude, were you listening at all? We’re trying to decide what movie to watch.”

“Oh,” Mike hums, and Will can feel the sound from where Mike’s chest is tucked up against his arm. “Uh, whatever you guys want, I don’t care.”

At this, the entire Party levels him with matching looks of concern - even Will glances down at him with an eyebrow raised.

“You don’t care,” Max repeats slowly, staring at him like he’s sprouted a second head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not have an opinion on something.”

Mike’s face flushes adorably red, and he looks like he’s seconds away from hiding his face away against Will’s shoulder, which would probably seal their fate as the most obvious couple of all time. Will elbows him, bugging his eyes out, and Mike clears his throat quickly as he sits up a little straighter, less like he’s curling as close to Will as he can get, which was, of course, exactly what he was doing. It’s still not- an entirely platonic position, with Mike’s thigh still pressed flush against Will’s and his fingers brushing Will’s where his hand rests on his knee, like he’s fighting the urge to thread their fingers together, but it’s- well, it’s a slight improvement. Even if Will’s side is now upsettingly cold where Mike was just leaned up against it. 

“I’m, uh,” Mike starts, and Will immediately thinks oh, no, “I’m focused on more important things.”

Will resists the urge to bury his face in his hands. 

“What sort of important things?” El asks, looking entirely amused, and Will glares at her, willing her to stop talking.

“Um,” Mike says, looking more flustered by the moment. “You know. I was thinking about- world peace. College applications. The future. My history project due on Monday. How to get my Spanish grade up. The SATs. What to do about-”

“Okay,” Will cuts in, sensing an onslaught of true Mike Wheeler word vomit brewing, and he reaches over with one hand to clamp his palm over Mike’s mouth. “We get it, Mike.”

Mike looks, for all intents and purposes, entirely relieved at the interruption, and he slumps back against Will’s side, because clearly he’s learned nothing from the past few minutes. “We should watch Star Wars,” he says against Will’s palm, the sound muffled from the contact, and it’s all Will can do to repress the shudder that runs through him at the feeling of Mike’s lips moving against his palm. 

He must see the expression on Will’s face, or something, because all at once a gleeful glint appears in Mike’s eyes, and he presses his lips more flush against Will’s hand, kissing it firmly, because clearly he’s trying to give Will a heart attack.

Thankfully, the rest of the Party doesn’t seem to notice, having gone back to squabbling over movie options as soon as Mike stopped talking, and for once in his life Will is grateful for his friends’ short attention spans. Even so, he retracts his hand, sending Mike a burning glare that is probably entirely undercut by the blush in his cheeks, and Mike grins proudly to himself, turning to face the screen as it flickers to life. His leg presses against Will’s, firm and purposeful, and Will allows himself to be a little bit stupid about it when he presses back, biting his lip to hide a smile.

Mike’s pinky finger links through his, and Will forgets to worry.

It’s only later, when they’re standing in the kitchen together after the Party leaves, throwing out the last of the trash from downstairs and placing the popcorn bowl in the sink, that Will decides to make fun.

“I can’t believe you,” he says, shaking his head good-naturedly as he wets a sponge and begins scrubbing at the stubborn butter stains on the inside of the popcorn bowl. “Your Spanish grade, Mike, really?”

“Hey, I was doing my best!” Mike yelps, shoving the empty Dorito bag onto top of the already-full garbage can and walking over to stand beside Will at the sink. “You were no help.”

“I wasn’t the problem,” Will murmurs, smirking and not looking up from the bowl. 

Mike glances down, watching him scrub at it. “You don’t have to do that,” he says, reaching over to tug the sponge out of Will’s hand, and Will gives him a look even as his fingers go slack and he turns to face Mike, one hip pressed against the counter. “And don’t you want to know what I was actually thinking about?”

“I’m going to take a wild guess and say that it was-”

“I was thinking about you,” Mike interrupts before Will can finish being sarcastic, dropping the sponge unceremoniously on the counter and twisting around to mirror Will’s position, hand pressing against the top of Will’s against the counter.

Will presses down a smile. “You don’t say.”

“I was thinking,” Mike continues, not noticing Will’s facetious tone, or maybe he just doesn’t care, which is probably more likely, “about what it would be like to not think twice about sitting next to you on movie nights, and I was thinking about how much I like cuddling with you on the couch and how I want to do that all the time, and I was thinking- that I love you, basically.”

It’s nothing Will hasn’t heard from Mike before, but his face flushes anyway, and he shifts a little closer, the hand that’s not gripping the counter rising up to cup the side of Mike’s neck. “I love you too,” he says. “And- we will get to do those things. Eventually. Just- not right now.”

“Not right now,” Mike agrees, bobbing his head, because really, the whole secret thing had mostly been Mike’s idea in the first place. It’s almost funny, how in the beginning, Mike was the scared one who wanted to keep them a secret, and Will who willingly obliged, maybe a little selfishly, because he wanted Mike Wheeler all to himself for a little while, but this whole time, Will is the one who’s been better at hiding. Mike’s ready to stop hiding now, probably, if this conversation is any indication - almost, anyway. They’ll get there soon. Plus, the Party definitely already knows, so that takes some of the pressure off.

“You’re so pretty,” Mike murmurs, tilting his forehead to press against Will’s, and Will’s flush deepens, a pleased smile spreading across his face. “Have I told you that?”

“Yes,” Will laughs, as Mike’s free arm wraps around his waist and tugs him in closer, chests bumping.

“Oh,” Mike says, grinning teasingly, “Well, have I also told you that you’re my favorite person ever? And that you’re the smartest and bravest person I know, and that I’m so lucky to have you, and that-”

“Okay,” Will says for the second time tonight, laughing quietly, and he brings up the hand that’s been pressed against the counter and presses his fingertips against Mike’s lips gently. “I appreciate it, Mike, I really do, but I kind of really need you to shut up right now.”

“Why?” Mike asks around his fingers, feigning a pout, and Will grins as he slips his hand away from Mike’s face to cup the back of his neck instead.

“So I can do this,” Will murmurs, and tugs him in sharply, pressing their lips together firmly, and whatever fake-complaint Mike had locked and loaded seems to vanish instantly, his grip on Will loose and relaxed as he smiles into the kiss. He tastes sweet, like buttered popcorn and candy, these moments always made a little more special by the fact that they don’t get very many of them. Will would like to kiss Mike Wheeler more often that he does, maybe, like, all the time, actually, and the possibility that he could actually have that sometime soon has him smiling against Mike’s mouth and curling a hand through his hair, gentle and loving and sweet.

“You know,” Mike says against his mouth, pulling back a little, “If you had just said so, I would have stopped talking way sooner-”

“Shut the fuck up,” Will interrupts, hazy and kissed red and needing to be kissed again immediately. “Shut up, shut up, shut up-”

“Okay,” Mike says, and when Will goes in for another kiss, he doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

[alexanderlightweight]

Hiiiiiiii, (tries to look at you with the biggest puppy eyes) is there a chance for more in the cider verse? What happens post wedding? Relationship reveal with a bang? The terrible trio crashing and burning? „Surprise, the cup is safe!“? #wednesdayprompt

Cider verse tho I don’t have a name for the sequel yet!

Haha not much happens just yet. Magnus and Alec are waiting for the right time and Alec finding out his siblings stole his stele and committed treason is not great for those honeymoon vibes.

Alec needs to figure out how much damage he has to salvage before he blows up the ground under him and everywhere else

Hehe the cup is a problem ^_^ but it’s not Alec’s problem (not yet at least)

I hope you enjoy

💜 lumine

—

Alec wants nothing more than to bask in the glory of a warm afternoon sun and the gorgeous, relaxed body of his husband.

Alec can’t help his grin, the way he moves closer so he can press his lips adoringly against Magnus' chest.

Magnus grumbles, a sleepy protest at Alec’s stubble against his bare skin and Alec just nuzzles closer still.

Magnus arms come up, solid and strong and keeping Alec close in a way that has Alec aching to shut away the world for just a little longer.

Despite the fact that he knows he can’t, he shuts his eyes and tries to let sleep steal him back under.

“Alexander—“ he hears what feels like an instant and a lifetime later, all at once. Alec shakes his head, a stubborn refusal as he inhales the scent of Magnus and his shampoo and them.

It’s addicting and Alec whines, shaking his head when Magnus insistently pets his back.

“The world will not wait for us, darling.” Magnus reminds him gently, “we’ve stolen away all that we can risk already, Alexander.”

Alec knows that.

He does.

But he selfishly loathes the thought of once again, fighting for every chance to see Magnus. And not only that, but fighting a war on all sides when it comes to his siblings, parents and the clave.

“I can’t be kept from you.” Magnus reminds him gently — the strength of his grip giving away his own concerns.

Alec knows that.

It’s why they did what they did.

Magnus and he are tied together in every possible way that can protect them.

Knowing all of that doesn’t make it any easier though.

—

When Alec had made the choices he did, he hadn’t realized his siblings would be stupid enough to commit outright treason.

The sheer gall of it has him pacing the deck as he pulls every active-duty shadowhunter in his Institute and puts them on alert.

Alec had barely given himself and Magnus thirty hours to just be with each other, and now he finds himself forming teams to search.

As he’d already reported the theft of his stele to Lydia, Alec can’t be incriminated. He’d purposefully taken himself out of the equation for Lydia to take charge for a few days and while it’s kept him from trouble, he’s in no position to help his siblings.

It means that Alec has to be cold, nearly voiceless as the power he gave to Lydia to be used against his parents is now used against Jace and Izzy.

Alec still isn’t sure exactly what anyone was thinking throughout the entire debacle — Lydia ordering Meliorn interrogated is a step far beyond the power he allowed her — but regardless, it’s happened.

Alec can’t even deal with the fallout just yet, not when he needs to let Lydia see this through.

“I did warn you to secure them and to not act overly hasty.” Alec hears Mirai murmur to Lydia, his second is less than impressed with the clave’s envoy and he doesn’t blame her. Alec and Mirai had finally been making progress and Lydia… well Alec’s not sure her purpose or plans but they no longer mesh with his own.

“I couldn’t risk that he had information we needed.” Lydia replies and then she winces when Mirai gives her a dark look.

“It wasn’t your risk to take, Branwell. But it is your mess to clean up. Alec extended a hand of trust, to both the clave and you through his actions. His trust was poorly received.”

Mirai isn’t wrong, and Alec is relieved to find his professional trust not completely betrayed. That she is watching his back without knowing he can hear her is a boon and one Alec needs.

Especially after his parabatai and sister who committed treason — Alec is refusing to think about Max’s role — it was under the clave’s watch that it happened.

After all, the last thing Alec needs is a charge of treason on the night he married the love of his life.

—

Magnus: darling�� not to play devils advocate for your siblings but he is one of my favorite uncles and you need a distraction. Did you not do something similarly risky and Ill-advised recently?

Alec: babe the difference is I didn’t get caught. It would be one thing if they ONLY got caught. But they didn’t just get caught. They announced that they were breaking the rules loudly and happily and almost gave the cup to Valentine while also letting him know exactly where it is… allegedly

Magnus: true, you’re much careful with your attempts at sedition

Alec grumbling as he gets ready for bed: they’re not attempts if they’re successful

[koizumiyuu]

Social Outcasts

Part 7

warnings: none in this one.

Silence stretches as they walk through the hotel, (name) silently following Chishiya as he leads her to her supposed room at a casual pace.

Chishiya. She should have connected the dots a little sooner. She’s heard that name even outside the university. This guy’s father is some big-shot doctor, that even (name)’s heard of before. It makes so much sense now. He’s some nepo baby continuing his father’s legacy. That must be where his sociopathic tendencies stem from. Him being bored of life and now making it everyone else’s problem in a world where he’s able to do it without consequence.

The sour look must have slipped to the front of (name)’s expression because her companion speaks up to break the silence as they turn into a long hallway, ”I had a feeling you would end up here sooner or later.”

(name) frowns at the comment, but doesn’t directly respond, “So what is this place? Some kind of cult?”

That seems to amuse him and he smirks, but eventually, he just shakes his head in a vague non-answer as he faces forward again.

They stop in front of a room and Chishiya gestures to the door as if to wordlessly that this is it. (name) gives him a look, but pushes it open. She doesn’t expect him to stick around long, and he proves her right almost immediately as he turns on his heel with a parting comment, “See you later.”

(name) doesn’t say anything in response as she shuts the door.

True to Hatter’s word, the lock on the door is jammed with super glue, making it possible to close the door but not lock it. It doesn’t matter much. She doesn’t intend on keeping anything incriminating in here that would get her killed. Though it is bothersome that anyone can just bust it at any moment. But then again, with enough willpower, someone could do that even through a lock.

As the rules request, (name) makes her way over to the closet in search of a bathing suit to wear. There aren’t many options, but after looking over the items in the drawer, she settles on a dark blue two-piece that’s neither too revealing nor concealing. She pulls on her hoodie over top, zipping it just enough for it to still be visible that she’s actually wearing a bathing suit underneath.

While coming up here, she did take notice that this place is as lively as ever, despite the dead atmosphere everywhere else in the city. The hotel is full of people, drinking and partying, and talking amongst themselves with smiles on their faces. She can admit, it is a nice change of pace compared to the vibe of looming death in the empty streets of Tokyo. As much as she doesn’t believe this place to be a ‘Utopia’ as Hatter called it, it will be nice to actually have electricity, water, and a place to sleep.

About an hour later (name) decides to go down and observe the place from closer up. Judging by the interesting greeting she received earlier, this place has some kind of hierarchy going on, and she would be stupid to not try and figure out the exact chess pieces. After all, Hatter did briefly talk about ‘executives’ and ‘ranks’.

People don’t seem to be paying her much attention as she makes her way down to the first floor and outside to the pool area. Most are busy either drinking, dancing to the music, or chatting amongst themselves. Outside there’s a bar, and surprisingly, even someone behind the counter. (name) appraises the scene quietly as she makes her way over there. A guy with dark hair gives her a smile from behind the counter, asking what she’ll have, and (name) offers him a faint nod, asking for water. She takes a few sips, continuing to observe her surroundings.

“I knew there was a new girl!” a cheery female voice sounds from behind her and (name) looks back to see a tall girl with dreadlocks and a smoking aide between her lips. She’s wearing a blue two-piece swimsuit and is seemingly appraising her with her arms crossed over her chest.

(name) didn’t exactly expect someone to be soughing her out so soon, much less approaching her for conversation. But this girl’s demeanor doesn’t seem to be malicious, at least at first glance. So (name) decides to see what’s her deal, aiming to be polite, “That’s me, yeah. I’m (name).”

The girl smiles, pleased to be met with a positive reaction, “So I’ve heard. I’m Kuina, it’s nice to meet you.”

A brief glance at her locker tag number tells (name) that she’s not an executive, so her comment about ‘hearing’ suggests she must be close to someone who is. That, or she’s good at eavesdropping. She wonders if this girl is trying to appraise her or if she��s genuinely just looking for friends. Her face doesn’t give it away though, as she gives Kuina a smile, “You too.”

 The girl suggests they go sit down somewhere and (name) agrees, moving to sit in the shade with Kuina in some of the beach chairs further away. They briefly talk about nothing in particular, before (name) decides to prod further while she has the chance, “So… What’s the deal with this place?”

Kuina makes a face at that question, and it becomes obvious that (name)’s thoughts were likely correct. She pulls the smoking aide from between her teeth, debating how to answer, “Well… a Utopia. At least that’s what Hatter wants it to be. In reality, everyone here does whatever the hell they want, and you just gotta fly under the radar if you don’t want trouble.”

Judging by the amount of information this girl is willing to give up, (name) guesses she’s probably not out to get her, so she relaxes a fraction, “And the psychos with guns? What’s up with all that?”

Kuina frowns, as if just the idea is distasteful, “Those are the militants. Aguni is their leader, and they’re here to basically keep the rules reinforced. They deal with the traitors, but some just enjoy stirring up trouble for no reason.” She hesitates, then adds, “A good piece of advice: try to stay away from Niragi and you should be fine. God knows the guy is a nutcase,”

(name) nods slowly, already familiar with the name, “Figures…” She looks around absentmindedly, gaze drifting over the people lounging around the pool without a care in the world, “And Chishiya? He’s an executive too, isn’t he?”

“Oh, you know Chishiya?” the brief flicker of fake surprise on Kuina’s face gives it away that she already knew that. ‘Gotcha…’ “Yeah, he is. We’re friends, him and I. Well, allies, more like. He’s awfully full of himself. But really smart, so he’s useful to have around.”

(name) nods, not commenting further. Kuina’s reaction and answer suggest that it was likely Chishiya who she’d heard it from about her arrival. And it was also probably him who wanted Kuina to gauge what she’s like. Though the girl herself seems more kind-hearted than Chishiya’s apparent mind games. (name) decides it would probably be useful to have an ally in a place like the Beach, so now the plan is to get into her good graces. And by the looks of it, she’s already halfway there.

Eventually, Kuina offers up to show (name) around the hotel. She tells her her own room number, shows the kitchen and the dining hall, as well as some of the cool places to hang out and pass time. She’s unsurprisingly good company, cheery and energetic, not lacking topics to keep the conversation flowing. Weird hierarchy aside, this place is actually not half-bad.

The day wraps up and the lot of the Beach gathers in the main hall, watching as a bunch of the players split into small groups and drive out to participate in games. Kuina said earlier that she still has days on her visa, so she’s not going tonight, but that this is a regular occurrence of how they do things every night. Players that have fewer days left, all split into groups assigned by the executives and go complete the games to bring cards back to the Beach.

Her and Kuina both hang back as the Hatter gives some type of motivational speech from the balcony in the middle before a voice interrupts their quiet observation. “I see you two have met.”

(name) turns to see Chishiya’s usual smirk as he approaches from behind, hands in his pockets and a casual posture like always. (name) wants to roll her eyes at that. As if he didn’t already know they would and planned for it. But she doesn’t, instead deciding to play along and just nodding slightly, “Sure did. Kuina showed me around.”

That makes Chishiya’s smirk widen, “Isn’t that nice of her.”

His sarcasm earns a scoff and an eye-roll from Kuina, but eventually, she doesn’t shoot back as the crowd from the main hall disperses.

Next.

[tenderlywicked]

The idea of a Beyond Evil prison fic has been brewing in my mind for ages, but I have no idea where it’s heading because I only have knowledge of Korean prisons from watching Innocent Defendant :)

Pretty Flowers Wilt Too Soon

The first thought that comes to Dong Sik’s mind is utterly ridiculous: blue doesn’t suit Han Joo Won. It’s hard to spoil a face like his, but that’s certainly not his color. Police uniform hadn’t become him. Prison clothes doesn’t either. Surprisingly, a bruise on his cheekbone fits him more, adds a certain roughness to his features.

Dong Sik squints in the bright sunlight, but the apparition doesn’t disappear. It’s definitely Han Joo Won loitering across the prison yard.

“This one is trouble,” a voice behind him says.

“How so?” another one joins in eagerly—prison gossips spread like wildfire.

“Ended up in solitary confinement on his first day here. His cell mates wanted to kind of haze him, especially because he’s an ex-cop. You know how it is with ex-cops—”

There’s an awkward pause—and even without turning back, Dong Sik knows they are looking at him now, a former policeman as well.

Actually, his case is somewhat atypical. One could say he’s a celebrity who has brought down a Commissioner General, and also a survivor of police injustice, so his inmates have been more curious than hostile. Or maybe it’s his irresistible personality, who knows? Anyway, he hasn’t been subjected to any bullying.

Han Joo Won, though … it’s another matter entirely. The son of said Commissioner General, a Police University top graduate, an aloof and arrogant brat—all of this paints a huge target on him.

“So why was he punished instead of them?” the gossiping goes on. 

“Because they are in the infirmary. All of them.”

There’s another pause, filled with awe this time. Maybe Han Joo Won isn’t entirely helpless, maybe he’ll even make a quick reputation for himself, a bright young thing skilled in martial arts. But what’s going to happen when his assailants are out? Does he think they will leave him be?

“Any idea why he got locked here?”

“Forging evidence, I think. He put something incriminating into his chief's safe, that kind of stuff. But it’s not like he got caught. They say he confessed of his own free will for some reason.”

“Nah, why would anyone in their right mind do that?”

In their right mind, yes, Dong Sik says to himself. Did the haughty prince realize what might await him in prison?

That’s when Joo Won finally sees him across the yard too, sitting on a bench and enjoying a sunny day. But he just stares and stares and makes no attempt at approaching, so Dong Sik is the one who has to get up with a sigh and stroll to where he’s standing.

At a closer distance, it turns out Joo Won also has a split brow, stitched more or less neatly, and a few more purple marks on his neck, like someone has tried to strangle him.

“Lee Dong Sik-ssi,” he says with a small courteous bow, like they are at a social gathering and not in a dusty prison yard.

Dong Sik very strongly feels like putting a bruise on his other cheekbone, or maybe grabbing him by the collar and shaking him really hard, but he knows none of this will help. Oh you stupid pretty flower, what have you gotten yourself into?

[def-initely-soul]

Burn The Witch {4}

a/n: hello everyone it's been a while. I have no idea if anyone is still around or still interested in this, but here's the fourth part! don't know when i'll update again, figured i should upload this chapter since its been in my drafts for a while

pairing:  yoongi x reader (f.)

genre: supernatural; angst; mystery; magical society AU; magicals!AU

rating: PG-15

warnings: violence; emotional abuse; blood; bullying; mentions of murder; mature language; panic attack

words: 5.6k

summary:

↠ {a boy who keeps running away, a girl who can’t seem to no matter how much she tries and a series of murders caught all in between of the cracks spread through what appears as a quiet little town…} ↞

or alternatively, not everything is always what it seems

previous part: {3}

.

.

It’s a slow day at “Selkie’s Place” when Yoongi pays you a visit, two days after the second murders. 

Trusting him still feels naïve but you can’t help but do it, and it scares you. You’re putting so much faith in him. Too much faith. Blindly trusting someone like this can only lead to disappointment, you know this well enough. But it’s hard not to trust him. And you’re terrified. 

When he steps into the pub it takes a whole lot of effort to get Mona to stop pestering him and move along to her other duties. Of course, you didn’t tell her the truth about your sudden partnership, instead opting for an inconspicuous story of making a new friend during interspecies studies. But, of course, she had to see for herself. Resulting in an almost interrogation of Yoongi about how the two of you met. 

“She seems nice...” he comments afterwards. He waves at Mona from the couch he’s sitting on, who waves back at him from behind the bar. 

You rest your hand at the back of the couch, watching the whole interaction with a careful smile. “She usually is. Today was a surprise for both of us...” you shrug before turning your attention back at him. Wondering what made him choose “Selkie’s Place” of all places for your conversation. 

“You know this meeting could’ve happened at uni, right? No need for you to come here...” you raise an eyebrow and now it’s his turn to shrug. 

“Better this way. Less eyes watching. After all, the person incriminating you could be someone from campus,” he takes a tentative sip of his beer. Your suspicion grows. 

Maybe he’s not just thinking of being under the radar. Maybe he’s not completely unaffected from everyone else’s opinion and he’s afraid to be seen with you. Could that really be the case? 

No. You wouldn’t peg Yoongi as someone who cares about other people’s opinions. He does what he wants and that’s the end of it. 

But what if this town managed to get him? What if by living in such a remote place, the people’s beliefs became his own? What if he’s rethinking the whole thing? 

You try to shake off the doubts creeping in your mind. They won’t do you any good for now. 

“So, you think someone is incriminating me then,” you ponder instead. 

Yoongi looks at you unimpressed. “Given the circumstances of those murders, I’d say it’d be too much of a coincidence. Someone is definitely trying to put the blame on you,” he replies sternly, confident in his logic. You find it hard to argue. 

At least someone else believes you. 

“So, what do you suggest we do?” you ask while taking a careful look around the pub. Just because you’re meeting here instead of campus, doesn’t mean you’re completely safe. 

“Me?” he raises an eyebrow as he crosses his arms. 

You shrug. “You’re the Sherlock here, Sherlock.” The reply has a smile growing on Yoongi and he leans towards you. 

“And I suppose you’re my Watson then?” 

At that you can’t help but scoff. Nevertheless, a grin is threatening to spill on your lips. “No, that would make me the unwilling victim that paid too much at your agency.” 

Yoongi’s smile doesn’t falter. “You’re not paying me though.” 

“Is store-credit okay?” 

He shakes his head with a chuckle before leaning against his seat. “I was thinking of taking a look,” is his cryptic answer, eyes following the costumers around the pub. 

This doesn’t satisfy your curiosity though. “Taking a look where?” 

Yoongi is still nonchalantly people-watching when he replies. “The Kim’s estate.” 

Your eyes almost pop out of their sockets. 

“Where?! Are you mad?! The place will be flooding with Magaux!” you respond incredulously. You’re not willing to take a step into this place, it will be filled with your worlds equivalent for the police! If someone were to catch you there, no evidence would be needed for your arrest. 

“This might be our only chance...” Yoongi continues calmly, ignoring your sudden outburst. 

“To get arrested?” you level with him but he rolls his eyes, not at all worried about his idea. 

You can’t believe you’re hearing this! He can’t be serious. 

“To find out anything concerning the identity of the perpetrator! Or would you rather just to sit by idly as everyone else pins this too on you?” it’s his turn to look at you with irritation in his eyes. Your mouth runs dry from words to say. You hadn’t thought of it that way. You should have. 

“I...” you mumble taken aback, before you turn your eyes away. “I didn’t mean it like that...” you mutter in response. Yoongi exhales tiredly. 

“Look, I know you don’t feel comfortable with this, but it’s our best shot at finding out anything. As for the magaux they cleared the scene not long before the second murders happened. The Kim estate will be empty by now,” his voice is soft, almost comforting and you turn to face him again. The determination and hope in his eyes strangely calm you down. 

“How are we going to get in?” you make your decision and Yoongi smiles. 

“Can you teleport?” 

You nod. 

“There’s how,” he announces entirely too pleased with himself, and you roll your eyes as you fight the urge to smile. 

“I say we meet and teleport straight into the house, not to raise any alarms, hm?” he takes another sip of his beer, and you nod again. 

That’s when you see it. 

Yoongi goes on about the details of your plan, but your eyes are trained at the glass window behind him. Did you just see something move? 

There’s just darkness outside. Just a heavy, unending black. Your eyes must be playing tricks on you. 

But then you see it again. And this time it’s clearer.  

What you thought was only black, quickly proves to be a shadow. A shapeless figure, much like the one you saw at that empty classroom. Unnerving, ever-present. 

Your breath hitches. Yoongi’s voice becomes a faint buzz as your heartbeat rises when the figure suddenly appears closer to the window. 

But the figure is almost the same colour as the night. You’re not sure what you’re seeing is real.  

It seems as if you’re staring at nothing. 

But “nothing” stares back. 

And blinks. 

“Y/N!” 

You jump in your spot, tension suddenly dissipating. You glance at Yoongi disoriented, who looks at you with a wary expression. Then you take a look at the window again. But there’s nothing there. 

“You okay?” Yoongi’s voice sounds as if you’re underwater. It gradually grows stronger, pulling you back to reality with it. You shake your head. It was nothing, you saw nothing. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine...” you clear your throat, unable to meet his eyes. You’re afraid he’ll see right through you. “I just got distracted, sorry. What were you saying?” 

Yoongi’s gaze is suspicious, but he decides to say nothing. “That we should meet at my house to discuss somethings beforehand. Just to be careful about this. Wouldn't want to get caught now, would we?” he explains with an easy smile. And while you agree with the general idea, you have one small objection. 

“Okay, but it’d be better if it was at my house instead. I still can’t quite get the hang of teleporting from anywhere outside my house,” you reply, and Yoongi looks worried at that. 

“Then will you be able to teleport us to your house afterwards?” he asks with concern, and you nod. 

“It just takes a bit more energy. Figured I’d keep whatever energy I can for leaving,” you shrug. Only now you realise that means Yoongi will have to actually come to your house. 

It’s been so long since anyone stepped foot in your home, besides you and Mona. You’ll need to do some cleaning beforehand, just in case. 

Yoongi nods as he thinks it over, tapping his finger on his chin before he shrugs. “Okay, if you’re sure you can do it...” he comments. Although his tone shifts something in you. As if your pride got wounded.  

Sure, you’re used to that. It seems to be everyone’s personal chore in this hellhole of a town, but coming from Yoongi, makes you want to prove him wrong. To prove you’re not just some helpless victim, to prove you’re someone capable. Someone strong. 

You can do it. You know you can. 

And him doubting you makes you angry. 

“I’m sure,” you say, and your tone raises no questions. No room for doubt fits in your words and your hair curl at the ends with magic as it seeps out of you with every burst of feeling. You’re not weak. That’s the only thing you’ve never been. 

Yoongi’s stare is indecipherable as thunder roars outside. Your chest rises quickly with every worked-up breath. 

But then he smiles. “That’s more like it.” 

. 

. 

You watch anxiously as Yoongi steps inside your home, two days later. It’s the only day you’re free from work, so the only day you’d be able to do this. You wanted the whole day off to prepare for what you’re about to do. 

You mainly slept and ate, to replenish your energy and be ready for later. And also downed more than three cups of coffee. Although that could maybe turn out to be a bad idea. You’re not sure yet. 

You're curious to see how Yoongi will take in your home but nothing really reveals much about his thoughts. Not when he stares up at the massive wooden staircase with Alistair curled around the banister, or when his eyes meet the stone walls covered with paintings of your relatives. 

Your familiar stares at the man in the middle of your lobby, thoughtfully take in your home and strangely he has nothing to say. The fox only stares at the vampire man with a mild curiosity and a slight apathy. Yoongi, to his credit, acknowledges the fox with a small tip of his head forward but then he keeps on looking around. 

Alistair’s familiar voice appears in your head.  

Do we trust him? 

You give him what you hope is a warning glare. 

Be nice Ali. 

You swear you see him almost roll his eyes. 

I’m always nice. 

A snort breaks free from your lips that has Yoongi look at you with a questioning gaze. 

You wave him off with your hand. “It’s nothing...” you reply when you decide to tease your familiar. “Ali seems to like you.” 

The question doesn’t leave Yoongi’s eyes. “Ali?” 

“My familiar...” you move closer to point at Alistair at the top of the stairs who stares at you with a nearly murderous gaze. “His real name is Alistair, but he doesn’t like being called Ali in front of strangers...” you chuckle with Yoongi’s eyes on you. Alistair gets up from his position and stretches before sitting on his back legs on a graceful but indignant pose. 

Your smile grows. 

Yoongi turns to your familiar and nods his head again. “I’m Yoongi. Nice to meet you Alistair.” 

Ali looks at him carefully before his voice reappears. 

He’s okay... for now. 

Then he tips his head towards Yoongi and turns around to hide in your room. 

You chuckle once more at the quizzical look on Yoongi’s face. “Okay, now he really seems to like you.” 

Yoongi sighs in relief. “I’m glad. Wouldn’t want to get on your familiar’s bad side...” he replies while turning his eyes upwards to your high ceiling. His gaze turns awed when he sees the ancient magic decorating the glass ceiling and how the endless night outside meets the floating lights underneath your roof. 

“What is this...?” he asks in wonder, mouth falling open at the sight above him. 

Another smile takes over your lips. “My father did it. When I was young, I used to say how much I loved the floating lights in the sky. I would sit awake for hours trying to come up with spells to bring them closer to me. I thought if I tried hard enough, I could bring them in my room and have them on my ceiling and then I could say “I have the floating lights in my room!”. So, one day my dad brought home some small crystal balls, filled them with starlight and enchanted them to float forever beneath our glass ceiling. To accompany the real floating lights in the night sky,” you reminisce as one of the floating lights slowly descends to meet your open hand.  

It’s warmth travels through your skin, reminding you of that time you tried to catch them with a floating spell of your own. Back then, you didn’t know you weren’t supposed to chase them. The starlight would come to you instead. 

“And to make sure I didn’t accidently cause earth’s collision with a star,” you add on with a chuckle. 

“Your dad could catch starlight?” Yoongi asks still in awe, but his eyes are on you now. 

“It was his individual power.” 

“And what is yours?” he asks curiously. 

At that your smile drops. 

You shrug. “I don’t know.” 

Both of you remain silent. Yoongi’s gaze doesn’t leave you but where you thought you’d see pity you see nothing but understanding. He doesn’t say anything along the lines of “I’m sorry,” or “That must be hard,”. He just lets you be. 

You don’t know what else to say so you focus on the issue at hand. “Okay, so are we ready for this?” is your impatient question as you let the small ball float back into place. 

Yoongi stares for another moment before he clears his throat. “Yeah, just a few things first. We need to be really discreet. There might not be any Magaux there but there should be some monitor spells lying around. So, we have to be careful. And we shouldn't split up. I know it’ll take more time but it’s safer this way,” Yoongi explains, all seriousness and even though you agree, you can’t resist the urge to tease him. 

“Is someone afraid?” you can’t hide your teasing smile and Yoongi scoffs as he tries to hide his own. 

“Me? Please. I’m just saying this for you...” he smirks, and you roll your eyes. 

“Alright, let’s do this,” you take his hand in yours as you close your eyes and recount the spell in your mind. 

You feel the familiar rush of magic travelling through your body, the magic of your home helping you in the process and then you open your eyes. 

But it didn’t work. 

You stare confused at your joined hands. This is weird. 

Yoongi looks concerned. “Is something the matter?” 

“That hasn’t happened before...” you mumble in disbelief, worry filling your mind. 

“Maybe it’s because we’re two people. Have you tried teleporting with another person before?” Yoongi casually drags his hands away from yours. You’re too worried about your powers to notice the crimson hue spreading over his cheeks. 

“I-… No, I haven’t but I don’t think that’s it...” your confusion is palpable as you close your eyes to try again. 

Once more you feel the familiar pull on your gut as your magic concentrates. This time you feel a bit more of it, now that it’s just you, but when you’re about to cross over you feel the difference. There’s something blocking you. Your powers work just fine, moving you along the spell just as they’re supposed to but when it’s time to land, you feel a wall blocking your path. 

“There must be a blocking spell on the estate...” you realise out loud and Yoongi curses softly. 

“Now what? Should we walk all the way there? Someone might see us,” he says in thought, thinking of possible solutions to your problem but you raise an eyebrow. It's simpler than that. 

“...Or we could just teleport outside the estate and walk to the front door?” 

. 

. 

“Okay, now that we’re here how do we get in?” 

This time, you’re successfully teleported outside of the estate, so you resulted in walking the rest of the way. The blocking spell shimmers as soon as you pass the front gate. You fight a shiver at the peculiar sensation.  

True to Yoongi’s words the scene seems cleared, no Magaux anywhere in sight. The Kim’s estate appears larger up close. The building is still standing, yet black spots of fire and ruin grace its appearance and a cold chill runs down your bones.  

The lights are out, the house an imposing structure despite its condition, the smell of ashes wafting through the air. You can’t believe this place was full of life just two weeks ago. 

That it wasn’t just a ruin. 

“The normal way,” Yoongi responds as he climbs the stairs to the front door. You follow close behind. 

“Through the front door? How do you know it doesn’t have any monitoring spells?” you inquire with careful step, wary of making too much noise. 

Yoongi smirks at you but instead of going through the front door, he nears a broken window to the side. The floor creaks with his steps, a contrast to the silence of the night. You resist the urge to shiver. 

He leans in, just barely through the window. He looks around the windowsill, as if looking for something. Once he’s satisfied, he leans back outside with a winning smile. “No monitoring spells here.” 

Your gaze is suspicious. “How can you tell?” 

He waves you over and you both lean inside to take a peek in what seems to be the living room. “Usually monitoring spells have a tell; they must have a beeper nearby to help them keep running for the desired time. The latest versions don’t need it, hence the increase in their price. I doubt Xefoto’s Magaux can afford them...” he comments. You lean more inside, and he points over your shoulder towards a small rectangle metallic box just above the door. 

“Now that’s a beeper. Which means this door is monitored,” he explains as he steps inside the window. Once he’s safely inside he stretches his hand towards you.  

You take it with a careful yet amazed gaze. “How do you know all that?” you move inside, wary of dragging anything with you. You finally place both legs inside before dragging your hand away. 

Yoongi simply shrugs as his eyes move to the interior. “I’m studying to become a Magau. It’s stuff I should know,” he chuckles as he takes a step inside. 

You hum in understanding and your eyes finally take in the living room. Or what used to be the living room. 

The wallpaper is burned to a crips as most spots, heavy black marks covering the walls in a pattern; as if the fire spread out in five, even streams of flame and burned everything in their path. The floor beneath the marks is black in streams too, all pointing towards the centre of the room, as if someone lighted a fire and spread it in five, even directions. Like a ritual would have it. 

“I guess this is where we should look...” Yoongi comments in a grave voice. His fingers skip the black mark on the walls. 

“What happened here...?” you mumble in terror, mostly to yourself. It’s pretty obvious what happened here, but why would someone kill an entire family just for a ritual? 

“Whoever did this, did not mess around...” Yoongi whispers, while you near the fireplace. On top of it rest some burning sage along with some geraniums and a few buds of alyssum; all burned to almost a crisp, outside of the five even streams. The flower petals are black, almost destroyed by the fire. Burning sage is used for protection from enchantment, geranium as an alert for approaching guests and alyssum is used to deflect spells and judging by their condition, you’d say the person behind this knew much about the Kim’s. 

Your eyes then travel to the wall above; decorated with numerous runes and what must be protection spells. But truth is you never paid attention on rune’s class, so you have no idea how to read them. 

“So, we look for anything that might be suspicious?” Yoongi makes an affirmative sound, and you begin looking. Hoping you will at least find something that can help you. 

. 

. 

It’s been two hours or so since you started searching but you have nothing so far. You looked into every corner, under all furniture, looking for cracks in the floor, opening every cabinet and little trinket but you’ve come up empty handed. 

You’re starting to lose hope. You can’t believe you did all this just to come up with nothing. You refused to be pessimistic all day, to avoid jinxing it but now it seems your doubts became a reality. 

You have nothing to move forward from. You only know a witch is somehow involved, someone who knew what they were doing which means it wasn’t anyone from this town. 

Which means you’re screwed. 

With a huff, you stand up. “Come on Yoongi, I don’t think we’ll find anything here...” you admit, shoulders hunched but Yoongi doesn’t budge. 

“I’m not done yet. Plus, we haven’t looked into any of the other rooms yet...” he replies, not really paying attention to you. You tiredly watch as his hands dive in what seems like the hundredth box here. 

You groan, your sore muscles complaining along, and you rub your straining neck. “I doubt we’ll find anything in the other rooms either. Let’s just admit this was hopeless and return to-”  

Your words get cut short when you hear a sound coming from outside. 

Yoongi doesn’t seem to notice it, too immersed in his search, but you’re certain you heard something. Is someone else here? 

“Yoongi...” you whisper lowly, taking a step towards him, your eyes glued to the front door. 

“Wait, I think I found something...!” he mumbles with barely contained excitement, his hand searching through the outer cracks of the box. 

But then you hear it again. 

The unmistakeable creak of the wooden floor on the front porch. Meaning someone is coming up the stairs. 

“Yoongi, someone is here...” you shake his shoulder to gain his attention, to guide his focus at the impending risk of being found out. 

“I can’t get it, just use an invisibility spell or something...” he argues, finger grabbing that... something and yanking it as hard as he can. 

Panic and shame are an awful mix, flooding you at the same time as the creaks sound closer. 

“Yoongi, please, we have to get out now...” your rushed voice reflects the rhythm of your pulse, and your breaths quicken in fear. Your eyes widen and you stare at the door as whoever seems to be outside takes their sweet time to turn down the doorknob. 

A huff comes from your partner. “This is a clue; we have to get it! Why can’t you just cast a disguise or invisibility spell?”  

He obviously doesn’t understand why you’d choose to simply run but once you hear the steps sounding just outside the door you snap. 

“Because I literally can’t!” 

Thankfully your voice was barely a hiss, but it’s enough for Yoongi to hear it and look at you with a surprised gaze. 

Great, is that shame creeping back in? 

“I- I never learned how...” you admit, your voice barely a whisper this time. You avoid Yoongi’s eyes; they are sure to be filled with pity and you can’t take that just yet. You can take a lot of things admittedly, but surprisingly not this. 

The sound of steps travels through the wood again and you remember you’re about to be discovered. “Now can we please get out so I can at least teleport us somewhere safe?!” you hiss, pointing with one hand towards the door. 

Yoongi stares at you for a second too long without replying. Instead, he grabs what seems to be a small stick, stuck into the cracks of the box and with one determined move, he finally gets it out. 

“Got it! Let’s go,” he exclaims triumphant before you drag him towards the back of the house with a tired groan. 

“I used to come here as a kid, there’s a back door at the kitchen and windows we can go out of. If there are monitoring spells in all of them, we can hide until the living room is clear...” you whisper quickly, remembering all the times you came here with your parents for social visits.  

You open the door, push Yoongi quickly inside and lock it behind you. 

“Check for beepers...” you put a chair against the locked door, just to be safe as Yoongi checks the back door first. 

“Clear,” he replies “Although it seems weird the door isn’t monitored, even if it’s just a back door...” he thinks out loud. 

“Well, if it was, we’d be stuck here so forgive me for not looking a gift horse in the mouth...” you roll your eyes at him as you drag him towards the door. “Now let’s get out of here...” you open the back door and motion for him to follow you when you both hear the unmistakeable sound of the front door opening. 

Both your gazes land at the kitchen door, then at each other. 

“Run?” you whisper. 

Yoongi swallows the lump in his throat, and he nods. “Run.” 

Then you’re both out in the backyard, running through the bushes and flowers as quietly as you can. Actually, the garden is really pretty and normally you’d stick around to gaze through the flora, but this is as far from a normal situation as it could be.  

You can’t afford to stop. If you stop now and someone sees you, it’s all over. Noone would care that you had an alibi for that night; they’ll send you straight to prison. 

You reach the fence between the Kim’s estate and the forest, and both of you use the momentum to quickly jump over it, only to land ungracefully at the forest floor. 

Yoongi lays there for a second to catch his breath, but there’s no time to lose. You grab his arm, closing your eyes and recounting the spell as fast as you can, when the telltale sign of power draining takes over you and you suddenly find yourselves back into the floor of your living room. 

“Fuck...” you curse breathlessly, your body slumping down against the floor. Your muscles scream in protest, your legs turned to jelly as your lung struggle to fill up. 

Your eyes find the floating lights at your ceiling, dancing around peacefully; such an obvious contrast to what you just did, and you can’t help but wonder what your father would think of this. 

You think he’d have a heart attack to be honest.  

But your mother? She’d probably be with you all along. 

Yoongi chuckles, out of breath. “Yeah... fuck...” he agrees before groaning and rubbing his eyes. “I haven’t had that much exercise in years...”  he mumbles and you can’t help the laughter that bubbles from your lips. 

You both lay there too tired to move, your eyes naturally following the spells carved on your celling. 

And that’s when you remember. 

“So, what did we find?” you ask curiously and Yoongi scoffs. 

“We? Oh no, you wanted to leave, you get no credit for this...” he teases, still trying to catch his breath and another laugh escapes you. 

“Fair enough. So, what did you find, oh great detective Min?” you tease back, and he chuckles (an impossibly clear sound you’re sure you won’t be able to get out of your head). 

His hand dives into the pocket of his jeans. Then it emerges, carrying that slim stick you saw him dig out and he passes it to you. You take it cautiously, observing it meticulously. It’s bent at the end in an obtuse angle, frayed at the middle with scratches on its middle part and strings of something soft sticking out of it. Oh wait, it’s not a stick. 

“It’s a feather...” you observe and Yoongi hums in agreement. 

“Yeah, a black one as you can see and those scratches in the middle part?” he points to them right where you saw them before, “At first look they seem inconspicuous, but I think it’s a rune...”. The more you look at it, the more sense Yoongi’s observation makes. Yes, it is a rune, the one resembling the letter “c”, but you have no idea what it means. 

Again, not good with runes. 

“And it seems even more plausible since the feather remained intact through all the debacle,” Yoongi mumbles in thought and you turn to him. 

“You think it was enchanted to withstand the fire?” 

“Maybe. Or maybe it was used to keep the fire from going out, or for something else altogether. I can’t really tell; we’ll have to find out what that rune means...” 

His statement has you looking at the feather again, deep in thought. Someone wanted the Kims gone so bad, they not only lighted their house on fire but did everything necessary so that the fire wouldn’t go out. 

You weren’t aware the Kims had such enemies. In truth, they were one of the most respected families in Xefoto. 

So, who did this, and why? 

“Okay, so where do we go from here?” you pass Yoongi back the feather. 

He takes it back with nimble fingers, softly grazing your own. “I remember seeing a spell recipe that used a black, bent feather with a rune scratched on the middle part in another witch’s book of spells. I don’t remember what the spell was for though, so we need the book to know the details. Do you have yours somewhere around?” he asks curiously, but you shake your head. 

“No. Us witches are supposed to get our books at the age of twelve, along with our mentor. But ever since the accident, the council put a ban in everything regarding casting magic. No mentors, no books, no anything. And you won’t be able to find anything at the local library either, believe me, I’ve tried...” you admit with a sad chuckle. 

Yoongi sits up and stares at you in shock. “Is this why you didn’t know how to cast an invisibility spell?” he asks in bewilderment, voice filled to the brim with disbelief. 

You simply nod. 

His eyes widen, a glim of irritation flashing through them and he drops back to the floor with an angry huff. “I can’t believe this fucking town...” he grits through his teeth, making you shift uncomfortably next to him. 

“It’s fine really. After I’m done with college, I’m gonna search for a mentor elsewhere, so no harm done!” you rush to say, words more bubbly and cheerful than you ever felt about your situation, but it feels vulnerable to let him in, in all those aspects of your life that you hate.  

And you don’t like feeling vulnerable. Even though, with him, it’s the only thing you seem to be doing. 

“No harm done my ass...” he argues with a clipped voice, ready to say some more, when he casts a glance at your side. He sees something that makes him stop though. Instead, he looks at you for a moment longer before he turns his focus forward and clears his throat. 

You two remain silent for a few seconds, neither of you knowing what to say. Although it doesn’t feel as strange as it felt a moment ago. Somehow it feels peaceful and quiet and everything you wanted since that fateful day your parents died, and your skin crawls with the whisper of all the things you lost, as if they say you don’t deserve this tranquillity. That this too will be taken away from you because you’ve done nothing in your life to deserve this. Even though life has put you through enough things to owe you this. 

But life doesn’t care about balance or justice. It only takes, unyielding and cruel and indifferent to your sorrows until you have nothing left or you give up. 

You don’t know at what stage you are yet. 

Yoongi somehow senses the dark path your mind has taken you. He knows that for some reason, whatever you’re thinking about now isn’t good for you. The urgency to bring your thoughts back to the present tugs at him so persistently that at first, he sits there in panic, not knowing what to do. 

But the longer he sees that distant, almost resigned look in your eyes, the more words keep trying to escape his throat, until he’s sure that if he tries to voice them, no one would be able to make any sense out of them. 

So instead, he clears his throat again. 

The sound startles you, like waking you up from a nightmare and only realising you’re in the comfort of your bed, and you have to remind yourself you’re safe. 

But as your eyes fall on Yoongi again, that small seed of warmth that appeared when Yoongi first found you in that classroom, spreads the tiniest amount. 

“So how do we find that book?” he asks. 

The question has you smiling. That you know how to get. 

“There’s this guy at school, he’s mostly everyone’s weed dealer, but I've heard that for the right price, he can get you anything; besides other drugs that is,” you explain, and Yoongi sits up once again, resting his weight on his hands. This time though, it’s not rage swimming in his eyes, but excitement. 

“Okay, so let’s talk to him!” comes his enthusiastic response but you wave him off. 

“It’s best if you let me do the talking...” you warn him, knowing if he was to talk to the guy, it wouldn’t end well for any of you. 

He regards you with suspicion. “Why? Who is this guy?” 

You roll your eyes at him with a smile. 

“His name is Dean,” and Yoongi looks even more confused. 

“And he’s a werewolf.” 

next part: {5}

[a-sad-machine]

The truth (part three)

uhhhhh, hey there! I’m alive? :D

I also thinkI might change the style with making a part per region, since characters are getting added to regions retroactively and i dont wanna go and edit every region. mayhaps I’ll just do it in version installments from now on? like, with the newest characters or smth

Anyways, enjoy!

Sumeru

once again, starting with the characters who would know who you really are: Alhaitham, Aranara, Nahida, Wanderer

Of course as the archon of knowledge, Nahida would instantly know who you are! She would definitely be the one to catch on the fastest and luckily for you, since she has experience with being confined in a place for too long, she won’t tell on you! Though she’ll try to not leave you alone in these dangerous lands, either accompanying you herself or checking in through others’ minds.

Through his brief time as almost god, Wanderer will recognise that something is off with you, in a probably-is-a-god-style, almost right away. If you slip up and mention anything from his past he’ll be even more suspicious, after all those memories should be long gone, right?

Alhaitham knows. I am not sure how, he just does. He is just built different ig. But jokes aside, he is very observant and smart enough to connect the dots. Might try to ignore you, since he doesn’t want to deal with the situation, as well as his newly acquired duty as ‘acting’ grand sage

the ones that are suspicious of who your are: Cyno, Dehya, Tighnari

Both Cyno and Tighnari will both share their suspicions, but they have duties that usually don’t involve you too much. Cyno needs to hunt criminals (which you aren’t) and Tighnari is bound to his forest. Unless you’re unlucky enough to encounter criminals or eat the wrong mushroom, there is very little chance for them to find any incriminating evidence.

Dehya is a seasoned bodyguard, where she has a lot of practice reading people and her surroundings. She’ll get weird vibes from you, as if you’re constantly hiding something, but won’t push too much if she doesn’t see you as a threat.

those who are too naive to question the identity of the creator: Collei, Dunyarzad, Faruzan, Nilou

Collei, Dunyarzad and Nilou all are too optimistic to think they have been lied to about the creators identity. All three have also been through quite a lot, Collei and Dunyarzad with their Eleazar affliction, and Nilou with her struggle against the academia. They’re still very kind though, so they might be fun to be around without having to worry about revealing clues to who you are. 

lastly, the ones who don’t care, or don’t seem religious: Candace, Dori, Jeht, Layla

Both Candace and Jeht are children of the desert, which can be a hard place to live in. While they don’t not believe in the creator, they have a lot of responsibilities to take care of, leaving little time to worship a god who has not helped them with their struggles of survival. They’re more likely to judge you for traveling the dangerous sands, especially if you are alone and not a seasoned traveler yet.

Dori might notice something off about you, but as long as you’ve got enough mora to buy goods from her store, she couldn’t care less about your identity. She’s also part of the blackmarket, where customers hiding their identity isn’t uncommon.

Layla is too tired to care most of the time. Unless you meet her nighttime persona the chances of even talking to her for long are decently low. She’s more worried about her studies and deadlines rather than a random traveler. Though you have to take care to not be too obvious when you have her attention, she is pretty smart after all.

(And another part done! I thought Dunyarzard and Jeht deserve to be here, since you spend so much time with em! and I know, I didn’t include Kaveh, but I haven’t done the recent event quest yet so idk what he’s like qwq )

(Next time will probably be mixed nationalities, including Kaveh, Mika, Baizhu, Yaoyao and maybe even Kirara! I’ll have to wait till enough characters are released for a while part tho)

[alesyira]

'Anomalous' sneak peek, pt2, probably the start to chapter 2

Izuku is gone by the time he returns to his apartment with a few packets of Mei's little surveillance devices. He'd expected this, but he's feeling a little weird about the fact that Izuku hasn’t returned by the time night falls.

When midnight rolls around and there's still no sign of his new obsession little mystery, he decides to do a little snooping.

He steps out onto their shared balcony and peers into the darkened apartment. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s done a little breaking and entering to find answers to questions he hadn’t realized he’d had.

For this little anomaly to have shown up at his door begging for sugar of all things and be apparently immune to his quirk? There has to be some kind of setup going on here.

Maybe a commission plant? (Unlikely, but assuming everyone’s a potential threat has served him well for the last several years.)

Maybe a test from his benefactor to ensure he hasn’t grown lax in his awareness? It makes more sense. He’s been overseas in a variety of countries with much less stringent rules and regulations for nearly two years, now. It’s been a veritable vacation of assignments, and upon his return, the only thing he’d found in the assignment safety deposit box had been the address and keys to the nondescript safe house.

His first two guesses are that it’s either just a safe place to stay that’s not Mei’s couch, or it’s some kind of test by his shadowy employer that-is-definitely-not-Nedzu. But now that he’s been directed to live next door to someone that coincidentally has a natural immunity to his quirk? There’s a third possibility teasing at the edge of his thoughts, but he’s not sure what it might be just yet.

(Hitoshi has found that there are rarely true coincidences in his line of work.)

His neighbor’s apartment is utterly still. 

Shi weaves back through his open balcony door, up through a vent, and across into the neighboring apartment to unlock the window leading into what he assumes is Izuku’s bedroom.

His eye twitches with mixed amusement. It’s too easy. 

Maybe too easy. 

He doesn’t drop his guard as he slips through the silent interior. He’s adjusted Shi's volume to pick up the faint hum of any powered devices, but the home is nearly silent save for a quiet rumble in the distance as the building AC cranks up.

There’s a sleeping laptop atop a small stack of paper. He eyes the ports on the side of the machine, contemplating if it’s worth wasting one of his piggyback chips to break into the device. 

Maybe later, depending on how much information he can get out of him without resorting to more intrusive methods. 

Shi lifts the laptop so that he can peek at the printed paperwork. He thinks it might be French. He takes a photo and runs it through a translation tool, and it turns out to be a really dry reading about poor (and easily exploitable) employee habits at a European company. 

He narrows his eyes with consideration. 

This kind of intel is pretty tame to most anyone that might come across it at random, but to someone in Hitoshi’s line of work, it’s the stuff he likes to know about prior to infiltrating a target's base of operations.

He carefully sifts through the closet and drawers, looking for anything hidden or potentially incriminating. There is a concerning number of long-sleeved shirts and hoodies when compared to the three short-sleeved tees he finds, two of which appear to be used for sleeping. 

Strange. 

Tucked away in the very back of his closet, he finds two button-up shirts and a jacket, which indicates that he probably has a pretty low-key place of employment. It’s doubtful that he meets with anyone important in person, but if that employee report tells him anything, it's that he probably does remote reporting for international clientele. 

He doesn't find any secret compartments in either the closet or the drawers, but he does happen upon some private items he expects Izuku probably never intended another living soul to ever see. In various shapes and styles. 

Hm.

Perhaps he shouldn't be so excited by the sight of someone's sex toys, but the idea of keeping this little mystery around on a more long-term basis is starting to take root. 

He contemplates the merits of seducing this person that's drawn his interest. If his quirk doesn't work on him, then he has a chance of trying a real, safe, and normal(ish) relationship. 

(Normal-ish? Who is he kidding... There cannot be anything normal about being in a relationship with someone like him.) 

At least he won't ever have to worry about accidentally catching him with his quirk. He's intrigued by the possibilities, but...unfortunately has no idea how to go about enticing a potential partner.

Obviously, he can't go the usual route and pay for his services.

Hm. 

He eyes the pile of innocuous reporting. Maybe he can pay for services, just of a different sort.

Request some similar work, pay him for services rendered, and ease him into a more physical relationship?

There already seems to be a perfectly functional chemistry between them.

He eyes the lines of notebooks along two shelves. He sidles over and picks one at random, flipping through pages of coded entries. He runs the tip of his tongue along his lip, feeling a surge of growing interest. 

First, French intel on a company's weakness? 

Now these notebooks absolutely packed with content that's written in a manner to discourage nosey snoops? 

There are tables and calculations scribbled in the margins alongside a few illustrations of vaguely familiar support items with labels pointing to what he thinks might be weak points.

His heartbeat ticks up as his excitement grows. He's found something big. He snaps a few photographs and sends one to Mei, curious what she might say.

There's a beat of ten seconds before she blows up his phone with replies:

Mei: HITO

Mei: WHERE THE FUCK DID YOU FIND THAT

Mei: CAN I HAVE MORE

He chuckles and sends a few more photographs her way. 

The intrigue builds.

[fruchtfleisch-art]

kirashino fic prompt: sacrifice, dance (literal or figurative), and/or “when they’re not looking”

Kirashino microfic #2/?: Sacrifice/"When they're not looking"

Being married is all about compromising. Sharing space. Encroaching on your partner’s time. Cleaning up messes you didn’t make, spending money you didn’t earn on purchases you don’t really care about. It’s a decade-spanning war of attrition, compromise after compromise until the base bedrock of individuality is eroded to fine powder, never to reform.

Kira, lucky man that he is, has skipped right to that stage in Kosaku’s marriage. The man he’s impersonating doesn’t have a personality so much as preferences, and boring ones at that. He’s trapped in a dead-end job, but unable to take time off to find a different one. There’s no flex in the Kawajiri budget for anything outside of rent and loan payments. His wife buys his clothes and cooks his meals and tidies up after him. What’s left for himself?

It's a living situation that would make him deeply depressed, if he had any intention of staying in it. Kira is just biding his time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to destroy the people who seem dead-set on exposing his identity. Until then, he can’t rock the boat too much. Sacrifices must be made.

That’s why, even after an exhausting workday, Kira said yes to an office get-together at a nearby restaurant. He watches the hours sluggishly tick away as the people around him get loud and unruly and start saying things like lighten up, Kawajiri, would it kill you to smile?

This job is a bit like a marriage, too. He can’t wait to be rid of it.

Shinobu came with him, but he’s keeping her at arm’s length, unsure of how they’re supposed to act in public. He pointed her towards a gaggle of other women when they arrived and hasn’t seen her since.

The restaurant’s air conditioning is on the fritz and the air is muggy and stagnant, nidorous with the mingled odors of cigarette smoke and fried food. Kira feels tired and vaguely nauseous, recoiling from an good-natured touch on his shoulder like it's a spider bite. He’s had too much to drink, but not enough to enjoy himself. It wouldn’t do him any good to slip up here and reveal something incriminating.

Eventually, he stands, muttering something about the bathroom, and meanders his way to the front door, then outside. Just for a few minutes, he tells himself, knowing it’s a lie. The cool night air on his face is far more refreshing than anything they were drinking inside.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been when the door swings open and Shinobu slips out to join him. “There you are. Ready to go home?”

“We can stay longer if you want-“

“I don’t.”

It’s strange. Kira thought she would do well in a large group, given how desperate for attention she is at home. He says as much, couching it in much softer terms.

“I just don’t really have anything to talk about with those people,” she says, laughing self-consciously. “My day-to-day is so boring. Maybe if I had a degree or a career or something, it’d be different.”

“Let’s do something you want to do next time, then,” he says, knowing full well there won’t be a next time. Shinobu lights up, all smiles again, the way she is when it's just the two of them.

“You’re such a nice guy. Really. Thanks for letting me tag along.” She takes his hands in hers. “Give me a kiss?”

The moment is all wrong: Kira can’t imagine a less romantic scenario than this, the two of them huddled up outside a dirty restaurant storefront, neon signage casting them in harsh pinks and yellows. He’s not drunk, but not exactly sober, either. At any moment one of his coworkers could come bursting through the entrance and see them.

But nobody does. He stoops to give Shinobu a peck on the lips, pulling her in close, and then they’re off.