#do a girl a solid and pass over the info

[faithinlouisfuture]

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[heartseungs-archive]

the dreams we’re scared of | l.dh

genre ♠ murder mystery au, thriller, romance, angst

pairings ♠ crime scene investigator! haechan x reader

word count ♠ 17.8k

synopsis ♠ There’s something about seeing a dead body in front of you that makes it more real, almost as if the death is your own. But when your nights get more sleepless with every new victim, Haechan fears you may be in over your head. Especially if a serial killer’s still on the move, watching every move the both of you make.

warnings ♠ kidnapping, mentions of blood, violence, vulgar language, mentions of alcohol (nothing too graphic however this is a murder mystery so dead bodies are described to some relative detail)

info ♠ the idea of csi! haechan is just really sexy. i’ve never actually watched csi​​

Your footsteps are the only sound that accompanies you at this time of night, besides the occasional lone cricket. Here, the shadows seem longer, and the distance between each streetlight further and further. The one that you pass flickers brokenly, gnats buzzing in and out of your vision.

The darkness is solid enough that you could touch it if you wanted. Yet, with every step you take, it retreats just a little, enough for you to see the tips of your white sneakers against the rough gravel pavement. It continues on until you see the familiar street sign. You’ve walked this alley hundreds of times, but it never gets any better.

You’re strangely tense, but you suppose it’s just because of the jitters that being alone naturally gives. Still, there’s an uneasy feeling resting in your chest, the pace of your breathing slightly heavier.

Tonight feels different. Even the moon is hiding behind the clouds, almost as if it’s scared. It’s nothing, you tell yourself, but your pace gets just that tiny bit faster.

However, there’s a slight dissonance to the footsteps. You’re not the best at hearing, but it doesn’t just seem like an echo.

You pause, just briefly.

The sound of footsteps continues.

Something is very, very wrong, and the feeling of danger seizes you, enough for you to start breaking into a run.

The rapid thudding of someone else’s shoes against the ground follows immediately, and you try to focus on the sound of your heartbeat ringing in your ears, the cadence of your breathing.

You’re so close to the exit of the alley, the turn to the main road, that you can see the light leaking onto the pavement from the corner of your vision.

You’re so near that you begin to hear the familiar rumble of the cars on the highway when a hand grabs you roughly and you fly back.

A choked scream barely escapes you before your body is slammed against the pavement painfully and your face follows after. You don’t even get to see the man above you, his face veiled.

Darkness surrounds you, heavy and choking and endless, and you sink into it like quicksand, unable to escape.

Your eyes fly open wide, and there’s a soft gasp that escapes you. Around you are the walls of that exact same alley, but sunlight floods through brightly, and you can see the little cracks in the cement, bits of green poking through.

Another difference is that the alley is not deserted, but instead filled with the buzz of chatter, and the occasional chuckle.

The very last, and likely most important difference is that the girl lying dead on the floor isn’t you, but Kim Mijoo, twenty-six years of age, estimated time of death 3.45am.

You stride over, ducking underneath the yellow tape that blocks off the crime scene. For a job so macabre, the vibrant colour seems abnormally cheery and out of place.

“I think I’ve figured it out,” you state to the two men who are there before you are. Doyoung has his arms crossed, worrying his lip tiredly when he turns to face you. Next to him, a man with pink hair is crouched down next to the body, inspecting it closely. When he looks up at you, eyes curious, your breath hitches.

Not the time, Y/N. For god’s sake, there’s a dead body. You scold yourself, but it doesn’t do much.

“I think the assailant grabbed her from behind. There’s very obvious head trauma, but it doesn’t seem to be from a weapon. He probably slammed her head into the gravel, and that’s why there are bits of it embedded in her skin. The wounds on her neck seem like strangling, but there’s no evidence of a struggle. She was likely already unconscious or dead when he did it.” Your face is blank as you describe it, and Doyoung tries to hold back a grimace, but he nods. A glimmer of pride enters your heart, but it’s quickly quashed by a bitter feeling when you look down at Mijoo. Having her name makes it feel personal, almost as if you know her.

Haechan remains silent as he looks at you, gaze heavy. You try to avoid it.

“We’ll go with that for now, and confirm it when we get the medical report. Let’s head back to the office for now, and see what we can get from the evidence,” Doyoung states grimly, before waving over the coroner.

The last you see of Mijoo is her face, bloody and bruised, before it is zipped up smoothly into a pristine white bag. Still, your eyes follow as she’s dragged into a van unceremoniously like a piece of cargo.

Doyoung is already ahead of the both of you, getting into his own car.

“You need to stop putting yourself into the shoes of the victims,” Haechan mutters lowly, and you jump at his voice. In the sunlight, his faded pink hair is almost bronze. His face lacks any amusement, and you shrug.

“It gets the job done. You saw how Doyoung looked. Everyone’s stressed,” you defend.

“Still, that can’t be good for anyone. Or healthy.” There’s a sliver of concern in Haechan’s voice, and you smile shakily at him. Haechan’s right, like he is most of the time. There’s still cold sweat beading at the base of your neck from your little spiel, and a chill that refuses to leave. Still, it’s insignificant compared to the fear that Mijoo must have felt, and that’s what you tell yourself each time you allow your overly vivid imagination to aid you.

The both of you remain quiet on the journey back, and you try to enjoy the bustling scenery of Seoul that passes you by. However, Mijoo’s face keeps flashing in your memory, unwilling to leave. You’re quite sure it won’t until the case is closed.

When you finally enter the station, you’re immediately hit in the face by the freezing air-conditioning, and the frantic buzz of activity. Neither you nor Haechan slow your footsteps, however, as the both of you turn a corner and take the private staff elevator up to the sixth floor. The office here is much quieter, an almost deathly calm, which you suppose is appropriate for the kind of work you do.

You’ve been in the Major Crime Division for three years, and the work only gets more interesting day by day.

“Y/N. Haechan. Doyoung’s waiting for the both of you in his office.” Jaemin’s desk is near the front of the office, and he’s always the first to welcome the both of you with a smile. You try to grin back, but Jaemin doesn’t expect much. He’s obviously heard of the events that transpired this morning, and he was the one to get the civilian call when the body was reported.

You don’t bother to knock when you slide open the glass door of Doyoung’s office, which is as clean as the first day you walked in and he handed you your badge. A wooden nameplate lies on his desk, the word ‘Superintendent’ emblazoned in glossy letters.

“Here’s what information we have on her. Kim Mijoo works as a waitress at a bar in ltaewon, which explains why she was out so late. She lives in Gangseo, and was murdered along Gangseo-ro 76 gil.”

You hear Haechan’s sharp intake of breath at Doyoung’s words, and know that he’s thinking the exact same as you. Gangseo has the highest violent crime rate in Seoul, and for good reason. No one in their right mind would go there late at night, unless they had to. For her to be a waitress in Itaewon and live in Gangseo…it was likely that Mijoo wasn’t just a waitress, but offered more to her customers.

It seemed in poor taste to point out the obvious truth, and you’re grateful for the silence that befalls the room. She had already died an undignified death that she didn’t deserve, even if most people on the street would sneer at her choice of occupation.

Yet, you saw it for what it was. A woman who needed to keep a roof over her head somehow. Not so different from yourself.

Despite his tendency to crack jokes in inappropriate situations, you’re grateful for Haechan’s tactfulness now, as he remains sombre, standing next to you.

“Apparently, she’s made a report for sexual harassment against a man by the name of Yang Seojun, but that happened two years ago. Still, it’s one of the only leads we have.”

You look up sharply, your mind spinning through possibilities. “It has to be someone she knows. The crime seems premeditated, and they must have known her path home. Seojun may be a main suspect, but it could very well be a customer or a colleague,” you reasoned.

“I suppose we’ll have to make a trip down to Itaewon then,” Haechan replies simply, hands tucked into his slacks. Doyoung nods. “The both of you go ahead. I’m still waiting for forensics to get back to us. I want the both of you off work punctually though, got it?”

His tone is stern, but you nod, knowing that he’s doing it out of concern. For all his coldness and sharp tongue, Doyoung is a good superior to you and Haechan. He doesn’t misuse his power, doesn’t make unreasonable requests, and pulls his weight as much as anyone else. He’s part of the reason why you’ve enjoyed working here so much, even if the pay is less-than-ideal.

You’re back in Haechan’s car again before you know it, the address of the bar keyed into his GPS. He drums his hands on the steering wheel, occasionally humming to whatever song is playing out of the speakers.

“Can you not look so damn excited? We have a crime to solve on our hands,” you huff, levelling a sharp glance at Haechan. He simply shrugs in acknowledgement. “Unlike you, I’m not some psychic empath. Itaewon is fun, even if we’re technically on official work.”

“You better not run off,” you warn dangerously, and Haechan smiles smugly. “I won’t drink until the questioning is done, okay?”

“That’s fine, I suppose.”

The journey down to Itaewon is slowed by the heavy buzz of traffic and heralded by the slow change of grey-toned skyscrapers to neon lights. The area that both of you are in is further from the most crowded parts of Itaewon and looks much older.

“This place is deserted,” Haechan mutters when he’s done parking his car, keys casually dangled in one hand. You narrowly avoid a puddle that’s filled with trash and something that's very evidently not water, trying not to wince at the smell of vomit.

“Well, it’s a Monday. I doubt many people would be out partying at this time,” you reply as the both of you push open a glass door that is smudged with grime. The stairs are narrow as you descend, and your grip on the railing is tight.

When you reach the bottom, however, the walls are noticeably newer, leading to two dark wooden doors that are in much better condition. Haechan knocks sharply thrice, before stepping back.

After what seems like an eternity, the door opens, and a lady steps out. Soft jazz music escapes from the bar into the cramped hallway that both of you are standing in. She’s wearing a long-sleeved black dress, her hair pulled back in a neat bun with two perfectly-placed curls framing her face. Her eyes are catlike, sharp as she takes in the both of you.

“We’re not open yet. Come back in three hours.” However, before she can shut the door, Haechan quickly jabs his foot in. In close quarters, he towers over her, his expression void of emotion. If you didn’t know him, you would probably be intimidated. Still, the woman’s gaze remains steely, her hand resolutely on the door handle. You suppose she has plenty of experience with troublemakers, and Haechan’s actions are barely a cause for concern.

“We’re conducting an investigation on behalf of the National Police Agency. Senior Inspectors Lee Haechan and Y/N L/N, Major Crime Division. I’m afraid you’ll have to let us in.” Haechan’s tone is polite, but with an underlying sharpness that tells you he’s not joking.

If he has to, he’ll break down this door to get what he needs.

However, the lady just smiles even wider, her pearly-white teeth a stark contrast from the shade of blood-red that her lips are painted. “I’ve had people come in here telling me they’re superintendents, executives, chaebols, and diplomats. Most of them were vastly overselling their identities. Unless you have proof or a warrant, I don’t want to see you here.”

“You have an employee. Kim Mijoo. She left this place at around three am on Friday,” you interject, and Haechan turns back to look at you.

Something flashes in the woman’s eyes, and she immediately focuses on you. “Did Mijoo get into any trouble?”

You feel as if you detect a hint of fear in her voice, but you ignore it for now. “Not trouble. She was murdered. We’re currently investigating, so it would be wise of you to not obstruct a public official’s duty.”

There is a beat of silence, and then two. Your eyes remain fixed on her as she swallows, eyes blinking minutely. Finally, the pressure on Haechan’s feet is eased, and she retreats backwards.

“I suppose there’s no avoiding my civic duty, then. Come in.” Her voice is level when she speaks again, with no evidence of any shock.

The bar inside is surprisingly upscale, considering its dilapidated exterior. The walls are lacquered wood with hints of gold, and your shoes clack softly against the black marble floor. You follow her past the bar counter, into a hallway filled with curtains. She pushes one aside to reveal a private room, gesturing for the both of you to take a seat.

The plush velvet of the armchair is soft against your back, but your back remains stiffly straight. You’re never really able to relax while on duty, while Haechan easily slouches back into a relaxed posture.

“We’ve got an hour until my employees come in, so that’s the time you have. There aren’t any cameras in this room either, so don’t worry about that.”

The image in her file finally corresponds with the woman sitting in front of you, who looks vastly different with make-up. This is Song Chaeyeon, thirty-four years of age and the owner of the bar that Mijoo has been working at for the past eighteen months.

“Great. We just have a few questions. What is your relationship with the victim?”

“She’s just an employee. We are friendly enough, I suppose. However, she is much closer to a few of the other girls that work here.”

“Do you know anyone who might have had a motive for the crime? An unruly customer, perhaps?” Chaeyeon shakes her head.

“Our customers are all regulars. They’re familiar with the girls here. No one would try anything, as far as I know. However, if the girls get personally involved with their clients, then….I can’t guarantee. But no one would know that except them.” You understand what she’s insinuating. Prostitution may be outlawed, but there are so many other possibilities.

“We’ll need a list of all the employees here, along with any customers that Mijoo has interacted with, even in passing. In addition, we’ll need corroboration for the whereabouts of everyone on that list on the night of the murder. It would also be good if we could speak to the employees that Mijoo is close to today. Otherwise, they can come down to the station within the week,” you say monotonously as if reciting a script. This isn’t your first murder investigation, but it is the most confusing one.

Haechan has remained silent throughout the entire thing, but it’s no surprise to you. He prefers not to be involved in the technical procedure, which you’ve naturally taken over instead. As much as either of you hate to say it, he’s the muscle when the both of you are out on official duty. Although you’ve never encountered any real danger, or deliberately put yourself in a situation that might warrant serious risk, it feels good having a safeguard, a partner to watch your back.

And once the both of you return to the station, he’s the first one to throw himself headfirst into research and pore over the information you’ve gathered, while you’re there mainly to bounce ideas and help with organization.

“You can speak to them today. Everyone will be here, as we get ready for the week. If the both of you are willing to wait in this room, they should be here soon.” You nod, attempting a polite smile. Despite her cold demeanour, she has been helpful, and you have no interest in getting on her bad side unnecessarily, especially since this is one of the few sources of information you have.

She casts another glance at Haechan, who remains unmoving. You nudge him with your elbow, but he ignores it, only humouring you with a tilt of his head. After a pause, she leaves, and the only thing that remains is the unfamiliar scent of her floral perfume.

“Thoughts?” You finally give in to your curiosity, wondering what’s kept Haechan silent all this time.

“I don’t particularly trust her, but we’ll have to work with it,” he states, resting his hands on his knees while the both of you are temporarily allowed some solitude.

The first person you interview is a shaky, nervous waiter who barely looks past twenty. He responds to each one of your questions with a stutter, evidently distraught from the moment he walked into the room. From the way you meet Haechan’s eyes and he sighs, you know this isn’t the person you’re looking for.

The second one is more promising, however. If Chaeyeon is to be believed, this is Mijoo’s closest friend at her workplace, a girl who only joined a few months after her.

“Xiaoting. You’re not a local, are you?” Haechan asks, and she shakes her head. “Moved here a decade ago. I’ve got my papers at home, if you need to verify that.” Her voice is terse, as if anticipating the question you have on the tip of your tongue.

Sometimes, you find yourself hating it too, the way they shrink back from you, knowing the authority you represent. It’s most definitely not a burden for you to shoulder, and neither is the blame on Haechan, but he understands, squeezing your hand comfortingly and taking over the questions.

“There’s no need. Thank you for cooperating with this investigation. We asked Chaeyeon this just now, but do you know anyone that Mijoo was closely involved with?”

“Close enough to motivate a murder?” Her tone is direct, and you are slightly taken aback, but you nod.

“There are a few that come around here and there, but I see Woo Eunhyuk with Mijoo most often. I’m not sure if you’ve heard of him, but Yang Seojun. He was Mijoo’s ex-boyfriend.”

“The one that she made a harassment report against,” Haechan mutters absentmindedly.

“Yeah. They broke up about three years ago. But he kept coming to find her, and got drunk here. Smashed a few bottles in the process too. I’ve never seen him threaten her, though. But if you’re asking me who murdered her, I’d only have one obvious suspect,” she replies, and you hum in thought. It’s plausible enough. A classic story of a violent ex and a crime of passion fits the bill a little too perfectly, and it’s definitely something the newspapers would love. It would be easy to simply close the investigation there, but you’re not too excited to come to a conclusion just yet.

“You’ve been very helpful, Xiaoting. If there’s nothing, I think we’re done here.” Xiaoting nods, but she seems to hesitate slightly, as if there’s something she wishes to say.

“Mijoo was my friend. I know what other people think of us, working in places like this, but she didn’t deserve any of that,” she says nervously, eyes aimed at her lap. Her shoulders are sunken, and you feel a sense of sorrow for the girl. She’s likely no older than you.

“Feel free to call us if you need anything, or if you think of any other information that might be helpful. We’ll do our best,” you reply, and Xiaoting smiles gratefully at the both of you.

As you and Haechan exit, the image of Xiaoting sitting in the room alone, shoulders sunken, lingers. You jolt slightly when you realise it’s already dark outside, the sun rapidly setting. The streets are slightly more crowded now, and your phone lights up with a text from Doyoung. Despite the fatigue, you smile at his message, which is an insistent reminder to get off work.

“You know what? I think I need a drink,” you state, rubbing at your temples, and Haechan lets out a scoff.

“Drinking when we have work tomorrow? How unlike you,” he teases, but Haechan is quick to stride towards the nearest bar he sees, the red pop-up tent visible from a mile away.

He holds the curtain open for you as you step in, the odd chivalry of the gesture causing your lips to tilt up. Inside the small space, the sound of chatter seems intensified, your other senses dulled by the steam that billows above the food.

You and Haechan find yourselves a table in the corner, the feeling of the rickety stool strangely comforting. Before you know it, there are four bottles of soju on the table and two steaming bowls of kalguksu in front of you, along with a few sides. You realise that neither of you have had a meal since you headed down to the crime scene in the late morning, and you’re starving. For a while, both you and Haechan don’t talk at all, instead focused on the food.

“I know Doyoung said we’re off work, but I think we have an obvious target. Even then, something about this doesn’t feel right. I feel like there’s more to this.”

“Xiaoting said that he hadn’t been to the bar in months, since the last time he appeared and Mijoo had to chase him out. So why would he murder her now?” he questions, and you shrug.

“Premeditated crimes take time. Even then, six months is a long time to wait to kill someone, I suppose.” You’re lost in thought, and Haechan grabs the empty shot glass from your hand to refill it.

“Something might have instigated it. A confrontation, maybe.”

“Do you think we can get access to Mijoo’s phone? Text messages, perhaps.”

“From what I heard, the water damage was a little too much for the old model. But Jisung and Chenle will see what they can do,” he assures, and you nod, deciding to leave it at that for now. As much as you enjoy your work, you don’t wish to pester Haechan with thoughts on it, not when the entire purpose of this meal is to unwind.

The first day is always the worst day, and it doesn’t get better until the both of you solve the case. And then the cycle starts all over again.

You watch as Haechan orders two more bottles, and you squint at him, confused. “Didn’t we agree on four bottles?”

“We’re not university students anymore, Y/N. You can handle a bit more than two bottles. If not, I’ll just drink the rest,” is Haechan’s smooth reply, and in your slightly tipsy state, you don’t question his statement.

The both of you had instituted that rule for both your sakes after a bad test had the both of you downing ten bottles and waking up with a splitting headache and no memory of the night before. Four bottles were comfortable enough that you felt the effects, but outside of the dangerous territory where you might do things you would regret.

Two hours later, there’s only one full bottle left on the table, and you’re really feeling the effects of the alcohol now, while the man in front of you is still relatively sober, the flush on his neck the only betrayal of his sobriety. Haechan wavers occasionally in your vision, and you grin at him.

As much as you don’t believe in using alcohol to avoid your problems, it feels nice to have it temporarily shifted to the back of your mind, clouded by the drowsiness that is quickly flooding into your limbs.

“Hello, Hyuckie,” you mumble to no one in particular, but Haechan perks up. He hasn’t heard the nickname in years, and you only seem to use it when you’re tipsy or extremely tired. Usually both. He takes a quick glance at his watch. It’s half past ten, and he runs calculations through his head. The both of you have to be in the office at nine tomorrow, and you wake up at seven-thirty.

“Y/N, we should go,” he says, tugging at your arm, but you only look up at him, smiling blearily. Up close, your face is flushed, your eyes clouded as you blink drowsily to clear your vision. Your bleary-eyed expression is cute, Haechan thinks, but he quickly dismisses the thought in favour of pulling you up from the seat and towards the exit.

He needs to get you home. Otherwise, you’re going to be dead on your feet from exhaustion tomorrow.

He’s quick to hail a cab while keeping an insistent grip on your arm to ensure you don’t wander off. You’re much more excitable when you’re drunk, a complete opposite from your usually composed self. It’s a direct contrast from Haechan, who’s loud when sober and withdraws into himself once the alcohol hits. And as much as he finds the way you act endearing, he’s also half-terrified he’ll turn around to see you gone in the crowd of people.

The entire drive, the taxi driver keeps glancing back at the both of you, and Haechan thinks it’s because he’s terrified that one of you might puke your guts out into his car. When the car stops, he slips the elderly man a few extra notes, before helping you out gingerly.

He lets out a sigh of relief when the both of you are finally outside your apartment door, and Haechan reaches underneath the doormat for the spare keys, not trusting your hand-eye coordination right now.

He’s halfway in and his shoes are off before he realises you haven’t followed him in, instead leaning against the wall of the corridor half-asleep.

“You are the most troublesome person I know,” he complains as he drags you in, only to be met with a weak hit on his back.

“I wonder what everyone at the office would say if they knew that you were prone to such violent tendencies,” Haechan mutters, only to be hit another time.

“They would say…that you’re a big bully. Who’s always stubborn and makes me do all the boring work,” you retort. However, Haechan can’t take you very seriously, especially when your eyes are closed while you say it. He lets out a barely-audible laugh, and immediately guides you to your room, where you’re quick to lie down.

“Well, this big bully is the one getting you home safe and into bed. You’ll thank me when you wake up,” he says, unlacing your sneakers, but he looks up when he doesn’t get a response. Your breathing has slowed, and Haechan realises you must have fallen asleep. Despite himself, he smiles.

You’ll complain about sleeping with your work clothes on, but there’s nothing much Haechan can do. He’s done a rather decent job of removing your makeup, or at least that’s what he thinks as he disposes of the wipes in the bin. There’s a set of his clothes that he keeps here for occasions such as these, and he’s quick to make himself comfortable on your couch.

You had added a few more pillows a few months ago at his protest, and Haechan found it much easier to fall into a drowsy state, addled by the alcohol.

His last thought is of you, before his eyes finally close and he drifts off.

“Can anyone get in touch with Woo Eunhyuk? I’ve been ringing his line all morning,” you state, frustration creeping into your tone. Of all the inconveniences to befall you, this one feels particularly pointless.

“He’s currently on a business trip in the US and won’t be back till the end of the month,” Jaemin replies, and you try not to sigh. A month is a long time, especially when he’s a prime suspect.

“If he was just a normal businessman, we’d have a much easier time,” Haechan points out, and you glance at him. “What do you mean?”

“Searched the guy up out of curiosity. He has a net worth of twenty million.” Jaemin lets out a low whistle at that, and you crumple the paper in your fist unwittingly. You understood what Chaeyeon meant now, and found it almost befitting. Itaewon was a place where you could find anything and anyone, where the two opposite ends of society could be found in the same room, mingling. It was a place of enjoyment, of indulgence, but also of danger.

“Well then, nothing we can do but keep looking. Seojun’s been brought in already, by the way,” Doyoung reminds, and you grit your teeth.

Today will be another long day.

You make a beeline for the pantry, filling up a glass of water and popping a Panadol before anyone can notice.

Out of the blue, you hear the sound of footsteps approaching the office, before a man rounds the corner, a police officer behind him.

Yang Seojun is here.

“Speak of the devil,” Haechan mutters under his breath as he observes Mijoo’s ex-boyfriend and the prime suspect in your case. At first glance, he looks unassuming, with a white blouse tucked neatly into khaki shorts and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses framing his face. Even though his shoes look a little scuffed, he looks normal. Typical.

Nothing like a man who murdered a woman in cold blood, but you’ve learnt from previous cases that most of the time, the more innocent the suspect looks, the viler their crimes.

“Yang Seojun, is it? I’m sure you’re aware of why you’re here,” you state when you’re finally in the interrogation room, Haechan next to you. Outside, Doyoung watches intently on the screen.

“I didn’t kill her, if that’s what you’re asking.” There’s a wild look in his eyes, starkly different from the blank stare he had when he was first brought in. He’s reminiscent of a cornered animal, and it fills you with a strange sort of uneasiness.

“Relax, it’s not time for that yet. Where were you on the night of the murder?” Haechan questions, fingers drumming gently on the table. His face is illuminated by the glare of the laptop screen, reading glasses perched on his nose.

“At home.”

“Anyone who can provide an alibi?”

“I live alone.”

“You have two sexual harassment reports filed against you and one for disorderly behaviour, along with a report detailing your history with alchoholism. Is that correct?” Yang Seojun’s file feels heavy in your hands, but you’re familiar with it now after flipping through it incessantly.

He nods. “But I’m in rehabilitation now. And I haven’t…the report wasn’t proven. I didn’t harass Mijoo, I swear. I loved her. You have to believe me,” Seojun pleads, his hands on the table.

You swallow as you meet Seojun’s insistent gaze, averting your eyes from him. You’re not sure what to believe, which you suppose is the worst part of doing a job like this. The suspicion and doubt that it casts over everything, where you have to ignore your gut instinct because of the kind of people you deal with.

“Someone will come in later to verify your statement. You’ll be kept in custody for the next forty-eight hours. It would be a good idea to contact your lawyer, or any members of family.”

“I don’t have a lawyer. Or any other members of family,” he says lowly, and you suck in a breath, looking at Haechan, who seems as fatigued as you are. However, before either of you can respond, there’s a loud banging on the door, before it swings open.

“Jaemin, we’re right here. You don't have to break down the door,” Haechan chides. However, you’re unable to be amused at the joke, a concerned frown on your face. Jaemin is careful and gentle. He doesn’t bang on doors unnecessarily, or ever. However, he’s now frantic, eyes darting back and forth in a panic.

“Y/N. Haechan. There’s another body. They found it at the Han River. I don’t-” Haechan shoots up from the chair, immediately pushing Jaemin out of the room as he curses under his breath.

Seojun looks as taken aback at the news as you are, but you’re not willing to deny the possibility that he might be an excellent actor. You attempt to assess his response to no avail, and instead give up in favour of following after Jaemin. The piercing scrape of your chair against the floor causes you to cringe slightly, but you quickly recover.

“God damn it, Jaemin. The fucking suspect is in the room. You can’t just burst in and say that.”

Haechan’s tone is harsh, understandably so. However, any disagreements now will only make things even worse. Jaemin stands, looking admonished, and you place a gentle hand on Haechan’s arm to pull him back. Haechan’s eyes meet yours, and you remain silent, looking at him meaningfully. After what seems like a moment too long, Haechan steps back, running a hand roughly through his hair.

“Doyoung left to go down already. I-I’ll give you guys the address,” Jaemin forces out, getting a post-it and marker from his desk. His hands are trembling as he does so, the writing shaky and barely legible. Your heart pangs looking at him, but you know he’ll be fine eventually.

Now, you and Haechan have another body to inspect.

“Renjun, forensic pathologist. Good to meet you.” The man standing in front of you extends his arm out, and you smile tightly back as you shake his hand, grip firm. His features are delicate, pale white skin standing out sharply against his harshly cropped black hair. In his hand is a Ziploc bag, a few test tubes resting inside.

“I’ve completed the autopsy, and the likely cause of death is suffocation. However, the body has been in there for at least a week and putrefaction has set in extensively, so we can’t be entirely sure.”

Two weeks. That’s before even Mijoo’s death, and you can tell Haechan is thinking the same thing from his sharp exhale.

‘However, it seems like there are marks on the neck that have been made with a sharp weapon. They don’t seem like feeding marks from animals, which are on other parts of the body,” Renjun continues stoically, and you attempt to quell your nausea, which appeared the moment you saw the girl’s body, bloated and greenish-blue.

Gritting your teeth, you force yourself to nod, uttering a note of thanks to Renjun. Haechan follows after, patting Renjun on the back. His eyes had lit up with recognition at the sight of the forensic pathologist, and you realised they must have been colleagues at some point. Before Haechan came to your current workplace, he had a brief stint in pathology, while you had specialised in criminology. It was another reason why Doyoung had paired the both of you together. Combined, Haechan’s and your expertise made the perfect duo to assist him.

“On the bright side, the weather’s cold now. If it was summer, we might not even have a body anymore,” Haechan utters, and you rub your hands together reflexively. He’s trying to take your mind off the murder, but it’s quite difficult, considering this is literally what the both of you are paid to do.

“Seoul hasn’t seen a serial killer in twenty-five years. However, if these two cases are unlinked, that means we’ve got two murderers to find. Which just might be worse,” Doyoung replies, and you’re sure that the swirling worry in his orbs is reflected in yours.

“And we barely got anything from Seojun’s interrogation too. There isn’t any CCTV footage from where Mijoo was killed, and we haven’t been able to determine where the body from the river was dumped yet.”

“If the river freezes over, we’re fucking screwed,” you continue, now realizing that the situation is much direr than you expected. There are little leads, two dead bodies, and the time is quickly ticking away.

You’ll die before you let this become a cold case.

“Come on. We won’t be any more good standing here than back at the station.” Haechan tugs your arm in the direction of the car, and you follow him mindlessly. The trees around you are barren, the roads and buildings a shade of dusty grey. Winter is usually your favourite season, but all it does now is fill you with a sense of numbing coldness.

You’re flipping through the autopsy report when Haechan comes to your desk, two coffee mugs in hand. “Thanks,” you say as you take a large sip, feeling the warmth course through your body.

The newest victim is Park Sunhee, twenty-three years old. She was last seen on her university campus, attending a lecture on a Friday morning. And then no one heard of her whereabouts, and her friends assumed she had gone home to visit her family over the winter break.

Until her cold body washed up on the shore of the Han river, discovered by a horrified couple.

What’s the link between the both of them? Is there even one? Think, Y/N, think.

Haechan can see the invisible gears turning in your head, and he decides to leave you to it, going back to his desk. Despite the fact that both of you have this case on your hands, there’s still plenty of administrative work to clear. He takes the stack of unread files from where they sit untouched on your table, and you’re so lost in thought that you don’t even realise

Until your personal phone rings, jolting you out of your reverie. You make sure the door closes behind you before you speak again.

“This is L/N Y/N. May I know who I am speaking to?”

”Hello.” The voice that comes out is a smooth timbre, almost pleasing to the ear. It’s obviously a man, and you furrow your eyebrows, not recognizing who it is.

“Apologies for disturbing you. This is Woo Eunhyuk. I tried calling the station and my call did not get through. Is now a good time?”

The businessman, you realize. And suspect number two. You immediately get out of your chair and exit the glass doors of the office, Haechan’s eyes following you. You’re known not to take personal calls during work hours, so why the change now? Still, he remains in his chair, unmoving.

“You can speak now,” you say.

“My secretary just informed me of what happened to Mijoo. I’m sorry for calling back so late. Quite unfortunate, isn’t it?”

Your first thought is that he doesn’t seem to find it very unfortunate at all, but you suppose everyone has a different way of coping with loss.  After all, you’re not even sure if he and Mijoo are as close as Xiaoting claims. For all you know, the poor man has nothing to do with any of this.

“Apologies for the inconvenience caused, Mr Woo, but we’ll need you to come down to the station as soon as you return. I hope you can understand.” You’re pacing across the hallway as you say it, and you’re not entirely sure why you feel slightly intimidated by the man on the phone.

“Of course. I’ll be there within the week. Y/N, was it? I’ll remember the name,” he mutters, and there’s almost a smug charm to the way he speaks. The way he says your name rubs you off the wrong way, and you find yourself shivering despite the lack of air-conditioning in the room.

“Senior Inspector Y/N. You may refer to me as that. If you need anything else, do call the station.” you say coldly, and hear what seems to be a muffled chuckle before you hang up. However, it’s cut off much too quickly for you to be sure.

“Hey, what was that?” Haechan asks, and you’re about to tell him, but you hesitate. He’d definitely worry if he knew that Woo Eunhyuk called you personally, and you don’t want to add more unnecessary burden to the case. After all, he’s already coming down to the station by this week.

“Nothing. Just a family friend asking something,” you respond, smiling slightly, and Haechan nods, turning back to his computer.

“Sorry for making you come in so late. Two days before New Year’s Eve, no less,” you say, attempting to plaster a polite smile on your face. Opposite you sits Woo Eunhyuk, in a tailored suit and hair gelled back neatly. The watch on his hand likely costs more than your yearly salary, but you ignore it.

“It’s my fault for being overseas and returning at the last minute. Honestly, if there hadn’t been so many delays at the airport, I would have saved you much more time.” His teeth are pearly-white and perfectly aligned as he smiles at you, and you can’t help but see the disparity between him and Mijoo’s ex-boyfriend.

“I’ll keep this short then. I’ll need information about your relationship with Mijoo and your whereabouts on the day itself.”

“I met Mijoo one year ago. The bar is one I patronise often, and I bring my clients there. Mijoo was overseeing our tables quite a few times, and she was good at memorising preferences and striking up a conversation, so I tipped her extra to wait on my tables when I was there.”

“Did your relationship with her ever extend outside of the workplace?” Your question seems to make Eunhyuk pensive, and he shifts in his seat before nodding.

“We were romantically involved for a while, and I will admit we were quite close. Physically and emotionally. But she eventually broke it off because of work, and we maintained a professional relationship. We were good friends up until her death.” There’s a note of sorrow in his voice now, and Eunhyuk stares off blankly into space as he says it. Does he still love her? It sounds so different from the voice you heard on the phone, but you suppose the questions are forcing him to relive unwanted memories.

However, he clears his throat, snapping out of the temporary trance. A smile makes its way onto his face again, so rapidly that it confuses you.

“On the night she passed away, I was in my study. My house staff are usually sleeping at that time, so no one can verify it. However, I can send you the footage from the security cameras in my foyer and garage. Would that be sufficient to prove that I was home?” He asks, and you nod hesitantly.

When Eunhyuk leaves, you’re left with the thumb drive of his security footage, which you run through. He isn’t lying. Which you suppose leaves you with one obvious option. Still, you feel as if there’s something missing, tugging at your brain, but you can’t remember what. A confirmation of some sort, to verify your suspicions.

The file on Park Sunhee is painfully thin, but everything you need to know is there. She goes to Yonsei University and majors in architecture and works a part-time job at a cafe.

Your mind comes to a screeching halt, the image of Yang Seojun flashing into your mind.

Yang Seojun in the interrogation room, wild-eyed and frantic.

Yang Seojun in the interrogation room, wearing a Yonsei University jersey.

Your hands are trembling as you switch on your laptop, but you keep going until you find Seojun’s suspect report.

It feels inevitable, the few moments that hang in the balance before you scroll down to what you’re looking for.

Major: Architecture, 2nd year, reads the report, and despite everything, a slight smile makes its way onto your face. You immediately pick up your phone, and the ringing of the call tone is the only thing that you can hear.

“Doyoung. I figured it out.”

It all seems to happen too fast for you to process.

There’s a final interrogation with Seojun before he’s dragged off, the last reckoning for him to defend himself.

However, Seojun seems defeated, almost withdrawn. There are dark circles under his eyes, and he’s considerably thinner than the last time you saw him. However, he doesn't resist when the officers come, handcuffs ready.

“There are witnesses who verified seeing him with Sunhee last, and that they dated for about three months before a messy breakup. He was also at the Han River late at night a month before, which corresponds with the estimated time of Sunhee’s death,” was what you had said to Doyoung and Haechan the morning before. They had nodded, Doyoung patting you on the back gently in commendation. You had finally allowed a glimmer of pride to make its way onto your face.

It fits the bill almost too perfectly, like a poorly written plot for a television show. Yet, you’re sure of it like you’ve never been surer of anything else.

There’s a gentle peace that fills you as you watch Seojun leave, even as the way he holds your gaze unsettles you.

“It’s over,” Haechan mumbles, and your shoulders sag, but you feel light.

“Yeah, it is.”

“Happy New Year!” Jaemin exclaims, and you jump at the sound of the champagne bottle popping. You’re smiling, and it’s the most genuine smile you’ve had in the past two months.

The champagne goes down smoothly, leaving a trail of fizzy bubbles in its wake. Even Doyoung’s happier, mouth wide open in a toothy grin. Renjun’s here too, along with Chenle and Jisung, the evidence technicians. You’ve all worked together, and you’ve made it.

“Good job, everyone. To a new year,” Doyoung toasts, barely catching himself from stumbling. Everyone cheers, and you simply grin from where you’re sitting with Haechan. He meets your gaze, and tilts his head, refusing to tear his eyes away from you. For some reason, you feel your cheeks heating up, and you quickly avert your gaze.

You’re sure that if you looked at him now, he’d be smirking, the cocky bastard.

Solving the case has left you all too heady and excited, which is a bad condition to make decisions in. You’re tempted to be impulsive, now that there’s less to worry about. You shake your head in a futile attempt to clear it, and hastily get up, making a beeline for the hallway, away from the festivities.

“Y/N.” Haechan’s voice is distinctly clear in the silence of the hallway, and you turn to look at him from where you’re leaning against the wall, mug in hand, It’s quite funny, really, how Doyoung had forgotten to bring champagne glasses, forcing all of you to use the coffee cups instead.

“Donghyuck,” you reply, and Haechan pauses slightly. He supposes he’ll never really get used to you using his birth name, but he doesn’t particularly mind it. He leans against the wall with you, shoulder to shoulder, and the both of you stand like that for a while, in comfortable silence.

“Do you remember when we were in our third year of university? When we had that stupid argument over whether a criminal justice major or a forensic science major was more important?” You suddenly ask, and Haechan lets out a laugh.

“Of course I do. You didn’t talk to me for a week after that,” he teases, and you huff in exasperation.

“Well yeah, because you were annoying,” you whine, and Haechan simply rolls his eyes.

“Sure, whatever you say. Why are you bringing it up now, though?” Haechan asks, gaze alight with curiosity. You remain quiet for a while, and Haechan’s about to repeat his question when you finally respond.

“I’m just thinking about what twenty-two-year-old Y/N and Donghyuck would say if they saw us now. I think they would be proud,” you murmur, and Haechan immediately grabs your hand, flashing a soft smile at you.

“Yeah. I think they would.”

“Y/N! Haechan! What are you guys doing out here? Come back in. Jisung brought cake,” Chenle shouts from where he’s standing, and your attention is immediately drawn to him.

“Come on, let’s go,” Haechan urges, tugging you along by your arm without a second thought.

“Wait. The phone’s ringing. I’ll get it,” you say once you enter the office. Everyone else is too caught up in rowdy conversation to hear it, and you attempt to balance the paper plate that Renjun handed to you, a slice of cake in the middle.

“Hello, this is Officer Kim from the Metropolitan Police Agency in Gangnam.”

“Yes, how may I help you?”

Your attention is quickly drawn to the rest, however, as you realise they’ve started counting down.

It happens in slow-motion, as most momentous things do.

Five. The words of the officer on the phone sink in, and you blink slowly.

Four. Your grip on the receiver loosens, and you feel it slip from your hands.

Three. The cake follows quickly after, landing in a mushy heap on the ground.

Two. The barely-audible, confused voice of Officer Kim rings out, asking if you can still hear him.

One. You sink to the ground, unmoving, not daring to breathe. No. This can’t be real.

It’s like there’s a muffle over your ears, as if you’re submerged in water, even as you’re vaguely aware that the other guys are cheering while watching the fireworks come up from the city centre. It feels like hours before the office suddenly falls silent, and they realise that you’re on the floor, champagne spilt, though it was likely less than a minute.

Haechan’s the first to enter your line of sight, his pink hair in your peripheral vision. His face comes into focus despite the blur of your surroundings.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” He’s crouched down to your level, hands on your shoulders, eyes worried as he scans you for signs of injury.

Your mouth refuses to form words, even as you look up at him, eyes desperate. The only thing you can do is shake your head insistently.

As if that will change the situation.

Doyoung, observant as ever, is the first to pick up the receiver. Haechan watches as his expression turns stone-faced, and he hangs up.

The office is silent, everyone else looking at Doyoung, holding their breaths.

“What is it,” Haechan demands, his tone firm as he holds Doyoung’s gaze. There’s very little that shocks Doyoung, but Haechan thinks this might just be the first.

“Another body. Still fresh. Barely died an hour ago, in fact.” Everyone’s eyes are wide, not sure what to do with the news.

“No. No. It can’t be. We found Seojun. There’s proof.” Your words come out broken and clipped, as you shake your head frantically. You’re shaking, and Haechan, for once, is at a loss on what to do.

Renjun’s the first to regain control of the situation, telling Chenle and Jisung to get their things and pushing Doyoung in the direction of the office. Haechan looks at him expectantly, knowing that he should likely be getting ready to leave as well, but unwilling to leave your side.

Renjun immediately sees the torn expression on Haechan’s face, and he understands. You’re his friend too, after all.

“Bring Y/N home, Haechan. She’s probably gone through a shock. We only need you guys there tomorrow anyways, after we’ve done the autopsy.” Haechan looks at Renjun then, nodding before gently helping you up. It’s at times like these when he’s grateful for the older boy, who always seems to know what’s on his mind.

You’re quiet, eyes glassy even as you get into Haechan’s car and he drives in the direction of your apartment. His gaze darts to you every so often, and Haechan thinks he’d give anything to know what’s on your mind right now.

However, there’s nothing much he can do other than get you to down a cup of hot tea and aspirin, so that you’re not hungover tomorrow. You’re quick to sink into a fitful sleep, and Haechan decides to leave you to rest, reluctantly closing the bedroom door behind him. He takes a quick shower in the guest bathroom, and watches a show mindlessly on the television. He’s not enjoying it, but it helps his mind to blank, and that’s sufficient for now.

It’s so cold.

That’s the only thought in your head as you shiver violently. The cold is piercing to the bone, almost painful, and it’s so dark that you can’t see your own hands in front of you. You feel strangely weightless, as if there’s something holding you up. It’s almost comfortable, except for the fact that you’re beginning to feel numb from the chill.

Until you inhale, and instead of air entering your lungs, it’s water.

You’re drowning.

Your limbs move frantically, but you’re no longer weightless. You’re heavy. So very heavy, that even as you can see the surface above you, it seems so very far away.

Precious oxygen bubbles out of your mouth, and you can feel your lungs burning, struggling to keep you moving. Your eyes are burning from the water, and your limbs getting more sluggish.

Fear fills you, frigid and unrelenting, as you twist your head frantically.

You let out your first scream when you start sinking even further, the dim light of the moon draining away bit by bit, along with your strength.

No one can hear you, not even yourself.

You’re still screaming when you wake up.

“Jesus, Y/N. What happened?” Haechan’s voice is frantic, and he’s leaning over you. It takes a while for his features to become clear in the dimness of the room, and you blink slowly, taking in your surroundings. In another situation, you’d likely be flustered from how close his face is to yours. However, you’re still trembling uncontrollably, cold sweat beading on your forehead and neck.

Before you know it, you’re sitting up, Haechan’s arms around your body and your face nestled in his neck. He’s warm, and you find your heartbeat slowing down slightly from its breakneck pace. Haechan’s hands smooth over your back gently, and he offers you his presence wordlessly, waiting for you to speak.

“I had a…nightmare. That I was Park Sunhee, and I was the one drowning,” you mumble lowly, but you know Haechan can hear you.

You expect him to chide you, perhaps. You know you get too involved in the cases, and feel too much for the victims. A double-edged sword, you suppose. It’s not the best thing for someone who has such an occupation, but you can’t help it. Even as you try to tear your thoughts away from them, you can’t.

Mijoo. Sunhee. And the newest victim. You don’t even know her name yet, but she’ll probably haunt your nights as much as the two of them do.

“How long has this been going on?” Haechan’s tone is gentle, however, as he helps you upright to face him, eyes roaming over your face. His hand comes up to brush your cheek gently, to wipe a stray tear that you didn’t even know escaped.

“I’m not sure. A week after we found Mijoo, maybe?” Your voice is hoarse, and hearing the unfiltered fear in it fills Haechan with pain. That’s almost two whole months.

He realises that there was more to your newfound exhaustion in the office, the dark circles that appeared suddenly. Haechan had assumed it was just the normal toll of taking on such a large case, along with your tendency to stay up late. He hadn't questioned it, but now he desperately wishes he had sooner.

Maybe if he did, he could have done something. And you wouldn’t be here, tortured by repeated nightmares that had you waking up screaming.

He wonders how many nights you had to do this alone, waking up to stare into the darkness of your room.

“You’re safe here, Y/N.”

“I know.. It’s just-it’s okay. I’ll be fine. Thank you for being here.” your voice trails off, and Haechan understands, even without you making it clear.

“Get some rest, alright? We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow,” he reminds, and a shaky smile makes its way onto your face, despite the fear that hasn’t entirely cleared from your heart.

Haechan stands up, but not before he makes sure you’re lying back down, pillow adjusted comfortably.

“I’ll be in the living room if you need anything, okay?” Haechan makes his way to the door, and despite his reminder, you’re seized by a slight panic.

“Wait. Donghyuck,” you call out, and he turns back, eyes expectant. Almost as if he’s waiting for you to ask him something.

“Can you stay? Just for tonight. Please.” Your voice is honest, vulnerable, as you look at Haechan, his face half-lit by the light from your living room.

It feels like too many moments pass, your heart dangling on a precipice, before he nods, and you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. There’s a faint smile on his face as you move over and he climbs in next to you.

“Is this okay?” He asks, when the both of you are finally facing each other, his face barely inches from yours. His arm is loosely wrapped around your waist, and your head is curled into his chest. “Yeah,” you reply and it comes out muffled in the quiet of the room.

The regular sound of his heartbeat in your ear is oddly calming, and you finally feel your breathing ease up. Haechan’s warmth is the last thing you think of before you drift off, and it’s the first dreamless sleep you have in weeks.

The camera footage is played. Again, and again. Yet, there’s nothing besides the buzzing static and a screen that fades to an endless black. It doesn’t make any sense. Gangnam is one of the safest districts in the entire city, and there were police milling around at every corner.

In spite of that, thirty-five-year-old Song Chaeyeon was dead in an alley, head bashed into the wall. She was thirty-four the last time you met her in the club, a hardened woman who didn’t seem to want anything to do with the investigation.

And now, she was never going to turn any older.

“There has to be something we’re missing. Maybe Seojun has an accomplice-”

“Or it might just not be him.” Haechan cuts you off, and your footsteps skid to a halt from where you’re pacing.

It’s the truth that you don’t want to admit, but he’s always been straight to the point.

You scatter the photographs over the kitchen island of his apartment, arranging them in order. As if some sort of connection will fall from the sky if you stare at them hard enough. It’s been less than three days since Chaeyeon’s body was discovered, and less than forty-eight hours since you collapsed on the floor of the station.

“Y/N. You haven’t had any food all day. At least eat something before we continue.” There’s a pot of ramen balanced carefully in Haechan’s hands, but you ignore the smell that makes your mouth water. The moment your mind drifts back to the image of Chaeyeon and her neck at an unnatural angle, your appetite dissipates into thin air.

“I’m fine.” You shake your head resolutely, turning back to the photographs. Ironically enough, Criminal Minds is playing on the television in the background, as if mocking you. You try not to tug at your hair too hard, even as you fiddle with it out of frustration.

“You have to eat, you know that-”

“I have to solve this case, Donghyuck! If you don’t want to help, fine. Just don’t be in my way,” you burst out, and he falls dead silent, staring at you with an unreadable expression in his eyes. You inhale sharply, rubbing at your eyes.

“You’re not responsible for their deaths, Y/N,” he says softly, a knowing gaze in his honey-brown eyes.

You hate Haechan a little in that moment. You hate the way he looks at you, understanding the fear and confusion swirling in your heart. Most of all, you hate that he’s right, that you’re not responsible for any of this. You wish you were, that you knew a way to stop it. But you’re helpless in the face of an invisible perpetrator.

The room suddenly feels a little too stuffy, your collared blouse tightening around your throat. You’re consumed with the need to clear your head, and your fingers scrabble for your bag. You turn impatient when you’re unable to find the familiar packet, tipping the entire pouch over.

Haechan watches your motions, half-confused and pensive, until he frowns, grabbing onto your wrist tightly.

“Y/N. I thought we talked about this.” His grip is stronger than yours, and forces the pills in your grasp to be held up high, even clear under the ceiling light. The accusing tone in his voice forces your gaze to tear away from him guiltily, and you shrink back.

“You know I only take them when it gets bad,” you explain, but Haechan remains unmovable, quickly plucking the packet from your grip and throwing them in the bin. “They’re painkillers, not magic. You can’t rely on them for everything.”

“Haechan, my stomach really fucking hurts-”

“Then eat. You need proper meals to get better, not some-” he lets out an agitated exhale, before continuing, “-chemicals that will only make you feel worse.”

It’s not that Haechan’s a disbeliever of modern medicine, but he knows you know that you’re not sick, not the kind that requires this sort of medicine. But the sharply bitter taste is oddly comforting, especially when you feel your abdomen cramp from a combination of nerves and stress.

You wouldn’t call yourself reliant on it - addiction is a dangerous line to tread, and you have no intention of ever crossing it, but it seems to appear more often whenever your work gets particularly difficult.

And it seems these past few months have been particularly bad, if the sleeping pill bottle on your nightdesk and the multiple chamomile tea packets are anything to go by.

Still, the warm concern in his eyes is enough for your shoulders to sink, relenting to his better intentions. You know that this is something Haechan won’t back down on, and it makes you feel a little better, the knowledge that even if you don’t have your best interests in mind, there’s someone who does.

You swallow thickly, finally meeting his eyes. “I know. I’m- I’m sorry I lashed out at you. That was unnecessary. And I’ll try to reduce the Panadol to zero,” you promise, hands falling to rest on the countertop. There’s guilt and fear swirling in your eyes, and Haechan’s heart breaks a little at the sight of it.

He cross the kitchen island and wordlessly wraps you in a hug towards him while you lean your head into his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of his musk soap. The both of you know each other well enough that there isn’t much of a need to exchange words.

You’re grateful for his presence, more than he’ll ever know. You’re not sure if you’ll ever find the words to thank him, sufficient sentences to string together to express your gratitude.

But for now, the both of you remain standing under his kitchen light, and you can’t help but think that it feels nice to have someone’s warmth against yours.

However, it seems that having Haechan by your side still isn’t quite enough, especially when you wake up in a cold sweat in the darkness of the room.

Your hand scrabbles across the bedsheet, frantic, before it finally lands on his warm palm, causing your breathing to slow a little.

You’ve made a habit of sleeping next to Haechan whenever one of you stays over, which is most days. It seems that it’s becoming harder and harder to pass the night alone, even if you’ve checked the lock twice and closed all the windows. You’re not sure if he minds, and you’re too afraid to ask.

“Y/N. Hey. Look at me,” Haechan’s voice cuts through the silence of the room like a knife, and you’re not sure when he helped you up to a sitting position. You’re still shaking slightly, his eyes drowsy but concerned as he looks at you.

It’s awful, the way this irrational fear digs its claws into you and refuses to let go. You’ve handled cases worse than this. And it makes you feel even more guilty that Haechan is the one left to handle the aftermath, to hold you together. You’re supposed to be his partner, not dead weight.

You close your eyes, as if to prevent you from confronting something you don’t want to. “It’s nothing, Hyuck. I’m sorry for waking you.” Your soft apology carries a note of burdened guilt in it, and it makes Haechan’s heart twist uncomfortably in his chest.

He wishes he can rub away the tears budding at the corners of your eyes, but he decides to settle for intertwining your fingers with his.

“Don’t apologise for this. Tell me if there’s anything I can do to make it better. Anything,” he promises, and the way he whispers it makes it feel like a confession.

There’s no one else in this room except the both of you, and what happens will stay within these walls.

Perhaps that’s what pushes you to lean forward and slot your lips over his in a moment of poor thinking.

For a fleeting moment, Haechan returns it with equal fervour before he seems to regain his senses, freezing in his cross-legged position on the bed before he pushes against your shoulders gently but insistently. You try not to let the hurt show on your face at his open rejection.

“Y/N- what-”

He’s definitely awake now, bewildered at your actions. At least he isn’t looking at you in disgust, which means the situation is less dire than it could have been. You swallow heavily, before refocusing on him.

“You said- I could tell you if there was anything you could do to make it better,” you stutter out, and Haechan nods slowly, as if unsure of what he’s agreeing to. His eyes dart down to your lips temporarily, and you wonder if it’s temptation that fills his gaze.

It definitely isn’t love, or maybe it is. You’re too scared to ask.

“Then let me have this. Please. I need a distraction, or something like it,” you plead.

You can’t bring yourself to care if he breaks your heart, if you have to swallow your feelings for him and let them wilt away. You’ll happily take whatever pieces of himself he’s willing to give, because how could you not?

You know this isn’t a normal request, that it’ll probably change the trajectory of your friendship with him permanently.

But Haechan and you are far from normal at this point. From the mix of fear and desire evident in his eyes, you guess that the man in front of you is thinking the same as well.

The waiting is almost painful, as you look at him with bated breath. Yet, it’s likely only a few moments before Haechan nods, clearing up the heavy feeling in your chest instantaneously and filling you with a longing so desperate that steals the air out of your lungs.

This time, when you lean in, he doesn’t pull away.

It takes one week of fruitless investigations before Doyoung finally snaps and decides to bring everyone out to unwind, promising that he’ll pay for a few rounds. Haechan can feel stress creeping at the back of his neck by the time the clock hits six, and he’s quite sure it’s not just because of the case.

He can’t stop thinking about kissing you. Well, kissed. He kissed you, and then the both of you never spoke about it after. He knows very well that it was a spur-of-the-moment thing, fueled by a cocktail of exhaustion and fear that seemed like desire when sufficiently intoxicated. Pretending it never happened, however, still leaves a bitter taste in Haechan’s mouth, even if he knows that there are larger things at hand.

It might not have meant anything to you. But for Haechan, who has been harbouring feelings for you for close to three years, it means everything.

He had heard of you from his lecture deskmate, the criminal justice major who had aided in a major financial investigation at nineteen - to say you were a bit of a prodigy was an understatement.

When his Criminology professor had assigned the both of you together for a lecture, he had been brimming with excitement to finally see you in person.

But that admiration had only remained as friendship - until five hundred and twelve days ago, when the both of you had been sitting on the floor of your apartment, a long-opened bottle of wine between the both of you.

You had tried to kiss him then too. But Haechan had been sober, and he didn’t want you to do anything you might regret, even if there was disappointment in your eyes when he gently pushed you back by your shoulders.

He tried not to make it too obvious the next morning, when you had shuffled into the kitchen and made no mention of it.

And now, five hundred and twelve days later - he was still nowhere near getting rid of his feelings.

It had only gotten worse once you had pulled him close in the darkness of your bedroom, and Haechan supposes part of it is karma kicking him in the ass. No good person would take advantage of their friend’s vulnerable emotional state to get what they want, especially not when said friend was his best friend of half a decade.

But Haechan’s not a beacon of virtue, as much as he would like to be, and he can’t help but cave when it comes to you. If a distraction was what you needed, he would gladly provide it as many times as you needed, even if it meant his heart fractured a little each time you joked around with him nonchalantly, as if he didn’t just have his lips against yours a few nights ago.

“Here, take this.” Renjun appears at the right time, and passes Haechan a cocktail that’s an unnatural-looking shade of blue. “What’s this?” He can’t help but peer at it suspiciously before taking a tentative sip. It’s sour, the sharp taste of vodka immediately searing its way down his throat before quickly being soothed by an artificial lemon syrup .

“Blue lagoon. It’s Y/N’s favourite, so I thought I’d give it a try. Speaking of which, where is she?”

Haechan realises a bit too late that everyone is looking at him for an answer, and he shrugs helplessly. “How would I know?”

“Because you’re always attached to the hip with her. The last time she called in sick, we got an email from you before her doctor,” Chenle blurts out, causing Jaemin to nod in assent.

Haechan rubs a hand over his face tiredly. Truth be told, he is curious about why you haven’t contacted him at all today. “Just- don’t ask me about Y/N right now.” His curt response immediately captures the attention of the rest, Renjun’s eyes alight with curiosity.

“Did something happen?”

It takes one look at Haechan’s face for everyone to realise that something did happen. “Look, it wasn’t anything much. She had a bad dream, and then we kissed,” he confesses, and Chenle’s eyes widen slightly.

“Slow down. How do those two link?”

“She needed comforting. I was there,” Haechan explains, trying his darnedest to not lose his composure. Rehashing the events only makes him feel like he’s going through it again. “I always knew the both of you had something weird going on,” Jaemin mutters, emptying his cup. Renjun elbows him lightly, before focusing on Haechan. “So what are you going to do about it?”

He falls silent at that question, fingers drumming against the smooth marble of the bar counter. He doesn’t know, and that’s the worst part. Haechan doesn’t know if he should say fuck it and confess his feelings, potentially risking your rejection and making whatever the both of you have now awkward, or if he should remain silent.

“You should probably speak to her,” Renjun says, and that’s probably the only good piece of advice Haechan has received all day.

The only question is, where the hell are you?

Doyoung comes into the room then, but there’s no alcohol in his hand. Instead, his eyebrows are set deeply in worry, knuckles clenched white from how hard he’s holding the phone. Haechan has never seen his supervisor so unsettled before, and it makes fear swirl in his chest. He calls out Doyoung’s name, and the man’s head snaps sharply to the left, as if jerked out of a daydream.

The other guys have picked up on it by now, and Doyoung scans his eyes over the room before exhaling shakily. “It’s Y/N,” he forces out. “She hasn’t been home since yesterday, and her neighbour just filed a missing person report.” He shuts his eyes and lets out a groan of worry, and it’s evident that Doyoung’s thinking of the worst-case scenario.

It takes many long moments before Doyoung’s words land, but when they finally do, Haechan thinks he might puke. The alcohol now feels like a terrible idea as it threatens to escape, pushing uncomfortably at his stomach. Nausea is nothing compared to the dread that floods his veins, however, at the thought of you meeting harm, of being in a situation that you can’t get out of.

You’re one of the people he loves the most in the world, and Haechan’s not sure if you know that enough.

He knows that the room explodes into commotion around him, and that Renjun is letting out curse after curse, but it falls to deaf ears. Haechan grabs his jacket and rushes out before anyone can realise, but he’s quick to sink to his feet at the curb, anger and fear bleeding into his sunken shoulders.

There’s nowhere for him to go, because you’re gone.

You figure out that something is terribly, terribly wrong when the room you wake up in is unfamiliar. There’s a sharp pain that burns up your wrists when you attempt to move them, the rope chafing against sore skin. It’s nothing compared to the panic that overtakes you after assessing your surroundings, however.

The air around you is heavy with the stench of garbage, and you wrinkle your nose slightly.

There’s only a small rectangular window that lets light in, the glass cracked and dirty. Below your feet is a rough cement floor, and one door lies to your right.

It’s the only way in and out, and you don’t see any visible way to unlock it.

There’s a heavy thud from the outside right as you turn your head away, before the door swings open slowly.

The first face you see is unfamiliar. The second, however, fills you with an overwhelming nausea.

In front of you stands Woo Eunhyuk, looking entirely out of place in the dingy room with his carefully polished shoes and ivory-white blouse. Pristine, and nowhere near belonging in a place like this. But now you know what lies beneath that clean exterior, and it terrifies and disgusts you in equal measure.

“I should’ve figured it was you,” you say, voice dripping with venom as you glare at the culprit responsible for all of the deaths and your kidnapping. Eunhyuk, however, only smiles smugly as he peers down at you. “To be fair to you, Officer, I am quite talented at covering my tracks.”

He’s proud. Arrogant as he boasts about it, as if being a cold-hearted killer is something to be rewarded for. It fills you with disgust, but you try not to make it too plain on your face. You need to be careful, and buy time, at least until you have a chance of surviving.

“Why haven’t you killed me yet?”

You suppose it’s not the wisest question to ask when you’re trying to distract Eunhyuk from that exact conclusion, but you feel a need to know why your body hasn’t ended up in an alley or face-down in the river yet.

“I wasn’t planning to until you started meddling too much. Digging into information you weren’t supposed to find,” he sneers. Eunhyuk’s confirming your suspicions of yesterday, the trail that you had just begun to follow. Considering he was the only other plausible suspect, you had done a deep dive into his records and found years of correspondence with Chaeyeon, some of which bordering into threats.

It took one visit down to the club to make your fears real, when Xiaoting finally divulged the truth.

“Xiaoting, I need you to tell me if Eunhyuk had any sort of conflict with Chaeyeon,” you plead insistently. There’s a stricken look on the red-haired girl’s face, and she’s evidently distraught. You refuse to let up, however, and it feels like a battle of wills takes place in her mind before she makes a decision.

“You can’t tell anyone this. Not until Woo Eunhyuk is behind bars. If not, none of us will be safe,” she whispers. You nod, a silent promise, even as fear climbs up your spine.

“He’s an important investor here. But lately, the rent’s been rising, and Chaeyeon can’t pay back his share. Especially after Mijoo’s death, fewer and fewer customers are coming. He’s been having quarrels with her regularly, and we’re not meant to overhear them, but Chaeyeon was worried that something might happen, so she got me to keep recordings of the conversations. And now look at her.”

“Is there any way you can send me the recordings?”

“Give me a few days. The police have been sorting through Chaeyeon’s stuff after she died, and I’m not sure where the thumb drives are,” Xiaoting promises, and you can tell the girl’s lip is raw from her biting it out of worry.

“If Eunhyuk really is the culprit behind all of this-” you hesitate, but there’s a look of steely determination behind her eyes.

“Promise me you’ll make him pay. Men like him, they think they can do what they want, because they have the money. But I’ve lost Mijoo and Chaeyeon. I don’t want to see another one of my friends left dead.” Her voice has a tinge of cruelty to it, but you understand all too well the pain that it hides.

You’re afraid that you might not be able to fulfil that promise after all, consider how you’re currently at Eunhyuk’s mercy as well.

“But don’t worry. I won’t kill you yet. I quite enjoy watching the people down at the station scrabble to try and find you. Especially your partner. He seems particularly distraught. What was his name again? Haechan?”

There’s a jolt of pain in your heart at the name, a worse feeling than that of your injuries.

Eunhyuk smirks at the obvious change in expression on your face.

“More than just partners, it seems. It’s a pity, you know. I thought you were a pretty one. I’ll decide what to do with you eventually.” You bite back a shudder when he caresses your face gently, watching as he leaves the room. A soft exhale escapes you when the door locks shut resolutely, even if that’s the escape route closed off to you.

But you refuse to give up just yet. Your brain is running a mile a minute as you think of possible ways that you can make it out, but every second that passes only makes you more hopeless. Both your feet and hands are bound to the chair that you’re on, tight enough to cut off circulation if you move too much.

You wonder what’s running through Haechan’s mind now, if the panic is getting to his head. You’re not sure if you’ll get to see him again, and you can’t bear the thought of letting him blame himself for your death.

As much as the man keeps everything maintained under a smooth veneer of confidence, you know your partner much too well, that he’s someone who picks up responsibility even if it isn’t his.

It’s funny how the thought of him brings a small semblance of comfort to you, even in a situation such as this.

And then something comes to you. A possible path out, a semblance of a fighting chance offered by no one but the man himself.

You wiggle your wrist slightly, even though it’s numb, and almost let out a sob of relief when you feel the cool metal against your skin.

Haechan had given you a bracelet for your birthday last year, engraved with your initials, along with many other things. You had made a habit of wearing it daily, but ornamentation wasn’t its only function.

“Haechan, I can take care of myself,” you assure, but the boy shuts you up with a determined look as he places the bracelet on your wrist.

“Better safe than sorry considering the line of work we’re in. If you’re ever in danger, just press this-” He presses down on the button to drive his point- “and I’ll immediately know where to find you. Okay?”

“Fine. But you have to wear one too. You’re not the only one who might need saving,” you retort, and he barks out a laugh, reaching into his hoodie. The smooth metal chain is pinched between his fingers.

“Already got mine. We’re matching now, I suppose.” His words bring a blush to your cheeks.

You’ve never been more grateful for his foresight in your life as you fiddle around, gritting your teeth in pain when the rope slides a little too harshly. There’s sweat dripping down the side of your forehead, but you ignore it. However, your fingers eventually find the bracelet on your other hand, and you exert just enough pressure to feel the mechanism unlock and let out a soft beep.

There’s a harsh exhale that escapes you once you’re done, and you sink back into the chair. Hope is a dangerous thing, you realise, but it’s the only emotion you can cling on to besides despair.

For now, you’ll wait, and place your trust in Haechan.

You hear the footsteps before they reach you.

There’s shouting, audible even through the walls. For a moment, your heart soars with hope.

And then the man who had accompanied Eunhyuk bursts in, and it comes crashing down. He cuts off the ropes binding you, but not before there’s a pair of handcuffs locked securely around your wrist. “Get the fuck up before I put a knife in you,” he rasps harshly, jerking you up by your arm and dragging you behind him. “You wouldn’t dare without your boss,” you retort, and he narrows his eyes at you.

The resulting blow to your stomach knocks the breath out of your windpipe, even as you’ve tensed yourself in preparation for it. “Watch yourself. He doesn’t mind damaged goods. You’re dead sooner or later anyways,” he seethes.

“Glad…to see that you’ve actually got strength behind those arms of yours,” you wheeze out painfully.

He closes his hand in a fist again, and you prepare yourself for the inevitable. However, the footsteps are louder this time, and he thinks better of it, dragging you along with him.

You observe your surroundings as you pass the maze-like hallways into a larger room, one that looks like a garage. The walls are cracked and peeling, and you’re guessing this is an abandoned building of sorts.

Suddenly, the grip on your arms loosens slightly, and you notice Eunhyuk standing in front of you. He walks over, grabbing your chin roughly and leaning down until the both of you are eye level.

“How the fuck did your little friends find you?” He’s seething as he glares at you, but you smile, baring your teeth through the pain and the bruise that’s likely forming on your abdomen. “You should have just killed me when you had the chance.”

He smirks slightly at that. “Be careful what you wish for.”

“Woo Eunhyuk, hands up, or I’ll put this bullet through your skull. Don’t test me.”

The voice that you hear behind you makes you want to sink down in relief. It’s painfully familiar, the honeyed cadence of it something entirely unique to one person.

Haechan’s here.

He’s not the only one, as you turn to see Renjun next to him and a few other faces you don’t recognize. They’re fully attired, pistols in hand. His eyes can’t help but drift to you for a millisecond, hardening imperceptibly when he sees the dried blood on your forehead. Eunhyuk’s men hadn’t exactly been gentle when they ambushed you on the way home, and you only realised the ugly scratch on the side of your face much too late.

“Not so fast, Officer. You might want to be careful.” You’re dragged backwards before you know it, and the click of a loaded pistol against your temple makes your heart stop cold with fear.

Of course he has a gun. Laws don’t matter, not to a man like Eunhyuk, who believes that enough money will cover up any of his sordid deeds.

The impending possibility of death is very real now, and you try to put on a brave face, even as your feet tremble slightly. If not for yourself, at least for Renjun and Haechan.

“Killing me won’t do anything. You’re not getting away with this,” you bite out. You try not to think about the cold metal resting against your skin, and the trigger that is barely inches away from you.

“Let me go free, and I’ll give you back your precious colleague here. Otherwise, I’m blowing her brains out,” he threatens. From the way the rest don’t respond, you’re guessing Haechan’s the highest-ranking officer present, which means everyone’s waiting for his call.

It seems Eunhyuk grows impatient, however, and this time, you’re not prepared, letting out a guttural groan when he slams the gun into your right knee. Something definitely breaks then, and the crack that resounds in the space is almost worse than the pain itself.

Haechan begins to lower his gun.

“No!” you shout out, teeth gritted, and you’re met with a harsh slap to your head, one that leaves your ears ringing and the fresh coppery smell of blood filling your nose. “Shut up, bitch.”

Haechan looks at you, a conflicted expression in his eyes. He’s scared. The fear makes him look so much younger, reminiscent of the boy you met in university. His grip on the gun remains firm, however, and despite the pain flooding through your nerve endings, you let a glimmer of pride fill you at the person that Haechan’s become.

You shake your head insistently at his doubt, even as tears brim at the corner of your eyes. You’re terrified too, but you can’t let Eunhyuk go.

Not for Mijoo, Sunhee, or Chaeyeon.

If it means you’re going to die, then so be it.

There’s nothing that Renjun or Haechan can do, but there just might be an option for you. A risky one, but worth a try.

The last time you took self-defence lessons was before your graduation from the academy, and they were practised in a room with an instructor who did not have the intention to murder you, just to teach.

But the bravery that fills you upon accepting the hypothetical conclusion of death is liberating, and you find your brain rushing through possibilities now that you have nothing to lose.

I’m sorry, Donghyuck.

You close your eyes and suck in a sharp breath, as if it will prepare you for the worst, before you swing your head back and right into Eunhyuk’s nose. There’s a loud groan of pain from him, but you don’t give yourself time to wait before you turn and kick as high as you can.

There’s a loud gunshot, and you freeze for a moment. Perhaps this is it, and you’ve failed. The last few moments, before the bullet lands true and the pain comes.

And then the world restarts.

You’re jolted back when you hear the gun clatter loudly on the floor. By some pure stroke of luck, the bullet has missed you.

Eunhyuk stumbles back in pain, a hand over his bicep, and you quickly dawn upon the realization that it’s not his gun that has fired.

It was Haechan’s.

There’s blood rushing out, scarlet over his fingers, and it plays like a horrible montage, one that will stick in your worst nightmares.

One blink, and Eunhyuk sinks to the floor. A second blink, before there’s officers rushing over to pin him down to the floor

Another slow open-and-close of your eyes, and Haechan is in front of you. Everything is fading into black spots, and you’re quite sure the world is spinning around you. He remains in focus, however, and you try your best to muster a smile, even as the pain reaches a crescendo.

“Y/N? Are you okay? Everything’s fine now. Where else are you hurt?” He’s frantic now, facade slowly breaking and panic leaking into his voice as he inspects you for injuries.

You don’t get to thank Haechan for finding you before you collapse.

“Do you think we can convince him to go back?” Renjun asks, looking at the raven-haired man next to him. “Not likely. At most, he’ll hopefully get some sleep.”

The younger boy runs his hand through his hair tiredly, before turning down the hallway. “The doctor said everything’s alright. I’m worried too, but-”

“He loves her, Renjun. You’d do it for someone else too,” Doyoung chides, and Renjun knows he’s right.

Haechan hasn’t left your bedside for the past seventy-two hours, insisting on staying no matter what the others say. It’s barely enough for him that you thankfully don’t have a concussion, just skin injuries that will heal eventually. The exhaustion and adrenaline have just triggered a natural response by your body, and you’ll wake up when you’re ready.

Seeing you unresponsive on the hospital bed, however, is a sight similar to Haechan’s worst nightmares, almost identical the fears that keep him up at night. If he stays, he can make sure that the heart monitor maintains its stable beeping, and that you’re safe and sound in front of him.

His eyes are sinking closed, but Haechan resolutely keeps them open. The rest have returned back, the flowers from some of your acquaintances resting on the desk and adding some cheer to the dullness of the room. You would hate the hospital environment, Haechan thinks. It’s nothing like your house, cozy and full of little trinkets that you’ve collected over the years.

There’s one small comfort, at least, and it’s the vindication that Haechan gets at seeing Woo Eunhyuk dragged into the back of a police car. Renjun had to pull him back from beating the man up during the aftermath, the firm grip reminding Haechan that assault charges were still very much possible even when committed against a criminal.

But the murderous rage that fills Haechan at the thought of what Eunhyuk’s done to you feels all-consuming, and the only reason he hasn’t acted on it is that he knows you wouldn’t want him to. You’ve always been the calmer one to his irrational nature, tempering him before he gets too far.

Haechan needs you beside him to function, and it’s only been made all that much clearer by your absence.

He smooths his thumb over your palm, wondering if you'll feel it from whichever dreamscape you’re residing in.

“I don’t know if you can hear me, Y/N, but it’s over. We did it. Or you did it, really. We got the recordings from Xiaoting, and managed to dig up some other stuff. You’ll definitely want to see it in person. Which is why you’ve got to wake up. I need my partner here, you know?”

He lets out a soft laugh at his own statement, but it remains unanswered in the silence of the room.

Until your hand jerks slightly, and Haechan doesn’t dare to breathe as his gaze remains fixed on you.

He waits with bated breath, watching as your eyelids flit gently.

It’s too bright.

That’s the first thing you think of when you open your eyes to another unfamiliar room. For a moment, you’re seized painfully with fear again, thinking that you’re back where you started, in that dark, dirty room.

Until the sharp tang of antiseptic floods your nose, and you feel a warm palm over yours. Instead of the chair prodding into your back, there’s a soft bed. And instead of Eunhyuk’s face, there’s Haechan hovering gently over you, eyes alight with concern and relief.

“You’re awake,” he sighs out, and you reflexively try to sit up. There's a dull ache all over your body, but it's nothing you can't handle.

“How long have I been out?” You ask, throat dry from lack of use.

“Close to three days,” Haechan  replies instantly, an unreadable look on his face as he adjusts the pillow behind your back carefully. You take a careful sip of the water handed to you, observing him from behind the rim of the cup.

There are dark circles evident under the corners of his eyes, and light stubble on his chin. Despite the obvious lack of rest, he still looks as beautiful as ever, the sight of him sending a jolt of affection to your heart.

A heavy silence rests in the room, symbolic of so many things left unsaid between the both of you. It beseeches you to say something, anything to dispel the tension looming over you and Haechan.

“Hyuck, I-”

“Y/N-”

You giggle slightly at the surprised look on Haechan’s face. “You first, then.”

He swallows nervously, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. But when Haechan lifts his head back up to look at you, there’s a certain quiet determination that rests in his gaze. You hold back a shiver at its insistence, as if he can see right through you like glass.

“When you were gone-” he starts, “I did a lot of thinking.”

“That’s new,” you say, and he rolls his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips despite the sombre atmosphere. “I’m serious, Y/N. Those were the worst two days of my life, and I never want that to happen to you. I couldn’t stop thinking that if I’d been more careful-” Haechan sucks in a breath as if he’s in physical pain, and you instinctively reach out to hold him close to you, to soothe his hurt the only way you know how.

You hold his face between your hands, staring directly into his worried eyes and hoping that your words will get through. “Listen to me, Donghyuck. None of this was your fault.”

The furrow in his brows doesn’t leave, but the dark clouds in his expression clear just barely.

“The bracelet you gave me saved me. I’m never going to be able to thank you enough for that,” you continue, and he leans his cheek into your palm, as if thinking of a response. When he wraps his fingers around your wrist, holding your hand to the curve of his face, the fondness of the motion makes you smile.

“That wasn’t all I wanted to say. When you weren’t around, it was- difficult. Not just because I was worried, but because having you by my side makes everything easier. Better,” he admits, circling his thumb in gentle, soothing circles.

You’re not sure where he’s going with this, but you hold your breath, waiting. Your heartbeat thunders in your ears, in sync with the wall clock that ticks away second by torturous second. The heady rush of anticipation fills you, and you feel as if you’re teetering on an invisible precipice, about to fall into oblivion.

“I love you. I wanted you to know that. It’s just- I realised I could lose you any time, and that’s worse than being rejected,” he says slowly, watching for your reaction.

There’s no surprise, no great revelation at his words. Instead, they settle into you like stones in a lake, barely making a splash. You’ve always known Haechan’s loved you, even if the idea of going further beyond friendship filled you with anxiety.

You’ve just been too scared to admit the truth.

To admit that you want him to hold you outside of when you have nightmares, that returning to either of your homes together makes warmth flood your chest. You’re someone who’s terrified of your dreams, but having him to wake up to makes the darkness a little easier to endure.

“I lied. When I said I just wanted a distraction.” Your hands are shaking, but you force yourself to continue. “I wanted you. I’m too much of a coward to admit it, but I do,” you breathe out shakily, feeling as the grip he has around your wrist tightens.

The doubt in Haechan’s features clears up at your words, replaced with genuine happiness. It’s a pretty expression on him, one of your favourites, and something that you’ll do anything to keep.

This time, he’s the one to pull you in, hand guiding the upward tilt of your chin. Your lips are chapped and so are his, but you don’t find yourself minding, not when Haechan is so warm and real and solid in front of you. And he’s yours.

When you finally break away from him for air, there’s a hunger in his eyes, but also love. So much of it that it leaves you breathless, weak to his ministrations. He smirks slightly at the dazed expression on your face.

“You know, for two of the best criminal investigators in Korea, we’re quite bad at figuring out each other’s feelings,” he points out.

“Shut up, Donghyuck.”

“As much as that was an interesting case, I hope we never have something like it again.”

“Agreed.” Jaemin lifts up his glass at Doyoung’s statement, downing all the champagne in one go. Renjun looks at him with distaste. “You’re going to get drunk,” he chides.

“I think we all deserve to celebrate,” Jaemin retorts. “To Woo Eunhyuk. May the fucker rot in jail,” the blonde-haired boy proclaims, and even Renjun takes a sip of alcohol at that.

The five of you had left the courtroom four hours ago, fresh from the sight of Woo Eunhyuk being found guilty and sentenced to life imprisonment with no parole. Not even his deep pockets could find a lawyer good enough to lighten his sentence. You don’t think you’ll forget the look he flashed you as he was dragged out of the courtroom, one that spelt pure hatred. But you’ve done what you’ve needed to do, and served justice.

“To Y/N and Haechan, my favourite couple, who needed a psychotic serial killer’s help to recognise their feelings.” Chenle’s voice rings out clearly in the room, drawing out a dry chuckle from the man next to you.

Your boyfriend and co-investigator rests his hand gently on your shoulder, before scoffing at the comment. “Careful, Zhong, or you’ll be the next one on my hitlist.”

You click your tongue at him. “Play nice.” Haechan looks at you incredulously, as if asking if you genuinely think he’s the one at fault. You only smile comfortingly at him before turning back to your conversation with Jisung.

You try to bite back a laugh when you hear him scoff lowly. Haechan may be smart and one. of the most mature people you know, but this isn’t one of those moments. “Give me a second, Jisung,” you request, and the younger boy nods, waving you off.

You tiptoe to tap your fingers on Haechan’s shoulder, the leather of his jacket smooth against your fingers. “Donghyuck.”

He doesn’t turn around.

“Are you seriously going to sulk because of this?” you ask.

There’s absolute silence.

“You can’t ignore me forever, you know.” Still nothing.

You sigh in exasperation before an idea comes to you. “Turn around, Hyuck. I have a surprise for you.” To your astonishment, the ploy somehow works.

The last thing Haechan is expecting is for you to grab his jacket collar in your fist and yank him down, before planting your lips firmly on his. It makes his mind blank for a moment, and Haechan reciprocates, before remembering that he’s technically supposed to be angry at you.

When he leans away, however, he’s trying his best to fight the blush that creeps across his cheeks.

“Still angry?” you ask, and he shakes his head. You smile victoriously, but it quickly fades away when he winds an arm around your waist and kisses you again, this time with a dizzying amount of passion.

You’re beginning to get lightheaded when the both of you finally separate, and Haechan has a smug smile on his face. He wipes the smudged lipstick away from the corner of your mouth with his thumb, and you barely register it.

“There. Now I’m happy.”

[siriuslylantsov]

clay pigeons

pairing: joel miller x reader

description: in which joel teaches you how to skeet shoot.

tags: fluff, established realtionship, no outbreak, shooting, detailed decription of a shotgun, little kissing, super brief mention of hunting.

a/n: i have no idea what im talking about! so take this with a grain of salt. all my info is from google (thank you wiki how). first joel fic :) ending is sloppy because i just wanted to finish it. happy reading!

wc: 953

“you're full of shit.”

you grumble, watching joel make a precise shot at the clay pigeon that flew through the air, it splinters into multiple pieces at impact. he laughs, amused but smug, as he turns to face you, shotgun laying over his shoulder. 

“it's all about the cheek-weld,” he explains matter of factly, like that's supposed to mean something to you.

“oh, yeah. of course it is,” you spout sarcastically before shaking your head.

this only makes him laugh again, and now determined to annoy him, you keep going. “also, skeet shooting? i don't get it,” you continue as he walks over to you, wrapping an arm around your waist pulling you closer. “you shoot clay pigeons? they're not even pigeon shaped,” he hums out an ‘mhm’, patient as ever. “what happens if you shoot a real pigeon? do you eat it? what happens if a clay pigeon hits a real pigeon? they shouldn't even be called clay pigeons, they should be called orange saucers, which they are…” you trail off when he slowly kisses you, you sigh into the kiss, significantly deflated. he chuckles at how you melt, trailing down to kiss your neck. he can always unfailingly make you like this, he can make you shut up.

“joel-” you breathe out and he hums into your skin, vibrations making you shiver slightly. you push at his shoulders, feeling a little embarrassed. “you're making your pigeon dispenser guy feel awkward,” you whisper pointedly, extremely aware of the man that stood behind you near the machine. 

he lets up and drops his arm, shooting the man an apologetic look that he brushes off with a smile. you decide you want to try it, skeet shooting, so you put your hand out expectantly. he raises his eyebrows in shock, passing the gun to you, tentatively. “can you even shoot?”

you gasp, indignantly, replicating how joel held the barrel, butt of the gun snuggly tucked into your shoulder. 

“pull!” repeating what he’d said, though with much less confidence, and you watch as the piece of clay launches into the air, you pull the trigger. it goes nowhere near the target, steel pellets flying much lower. the empty shell falls with a lame thump and the recoil makes you stumble back a little and joel is quick to steady you. 

you cringe at your failed attempt as he moves you upright. “nothing but net,” you let out in mock despair.

“that's basketball,” he corrects, and you sneer at him. “i gotta admit though, your form was pretty good,” he mumbles, to which you turn your head and grin at him, suddenly pleased.

“but don't get ahead of yourself, your aim is shit,” he continues, and you pout. prick. positioning himself behind you, he sticks a leg between yours, prompting them to move further apart. “feet at shoulder width, knees bent. that way you won’t lose your balance,” he instructs, and you realise what's going on. he's teaching you!

he wraps his hand over yours on the barrel, and the other on top of yours on the grip, effectively caging you in. “you got the form right,” he praises, impressed by your replication, before pulling the gun more firmly into your body. “just make sure the butt is held tightly against your shoulder, then it won't move much during recoil.” you giggle at him saying butt, making him roll his eyes, but there's no bite as a smile breaks out. “impossible girl.”

his head is perched on your left, his breath warm on the side of your neck. he nudges you to press your cheek to the stock of the gun. “like this, your eyes are directly aligned with the bead, that part at the very front. it’ll give you a solid aim if done right.” 

your face fills with realisation. “cheek-weld,” you drag out and he nods with a light chuckle, chin bumping against your shoulder. 

“think you can try again?”

you ponder, applying all the techniques he told you, giving it an experimental rise. satisfied with the tension you have on the firearm you give him a curt nod. reloading the gun, he takes a step back, giving you some space.

“pull!” you half-shout, firmer that earlier. you trail the ‘bird’ with your eyes, following it with the bead. when it's almost at its highest you pull the trigger, anticipating the distance the bullet will travel. it hits perfectly, and this time you keep your footing. 

joel whoops behind you and picks you up. you squeal giddily and he gently puts you back on your feet. “that's my girl,” he drawls, and you blush profusely. “didn't even tell you about the delay.”

“used context clues,” you offer.

“clever.”

you shrug, feeling a little too good about yourself. and he can see how your ego inflates, preparing himself for the brunt of it.

“so now that i've basically mastered skeet shooting, i think i'm ready for the real thing.” 

he huffs at the shit-eating grin that spreads over your face, “the real thing?”

“hunting. i need to hunt so we survive the winter,” your voice drops to a low serious tone and he barks out a laugh. there isn't a chance in hell that you're gonna kill an animal, much less hunt, but he indulges you anyway, loading the gun, “okay, darlin’ do it again and i'll take you to the woods.” 

“you better,” you say, re-aligning yourself. “this is serious business.” your grave expression fathering a little when you meet his eyes. it's reverential, how he looks at you. it makes your stomach flip violently. leave it to him to reduce you to a sheepish mess. but you swiftly regain your composure, smiling to yourself regardless. 

“pull!”

[meat4meat]

Whose the Ghoul

and why is it totally not Grimal?

I know this is a lesbian necromancers side blog so I'm gonna tag this accordingly so my followers can filter

Now everyone and their mother has a theory about who the ghoul is and has given their two cents- but I 100% think it's Giles at this point based on the info we have- BUT I don't think he's the one who attacked Occam. I think that was Grimal for her own personal reasons, and Spit is a red herring.

I'll admit my speculations about why she would attack Occam are a bit hand wavy, but I think paired with her means of accessing the archives while he was performing the ritual makes a case worthy of consideration.

For the how- because of the scene where everyone presents their licence we also know the exact level of access everyone has to which areas of the chapter house. As a neophyte Grimal does not have access to the archive or the security room, so how does she end up there on the map? There are several different ways she could have ended up in there.

So, almost immediately after Occam is sealed in the archive Elise cops Giles' shit. Wallet, keys and smokes all in one go. Queen. As a gard, he would have had acess to the security room, and now Elise does since she jacked his whole deal, coldly. So, either grimal got the keys from Elise, sneakily or not, that's one way should could have gotten in. Or Elise did her girl a solid and just let her in.

However, she could have gotten in without Elise's pilfered keys at all. When Kitten talks to Matilda and Amanda, Matilda offers to let him into the security room, and we immediately see that she's smoking the cigs Elise stole from Giles. Grimal could have gotten the smokes from Elise and then traded them for security room acess, just like Matilda offered to Kitten.

And once in the security room.....what? We know from Matilda it's one of the most ventilated rooms, and we know there's a vent in the archive thanks to a bg shot when they go in to draw blood. Given Grimal is one of two people conceivably small enough to pull of snaking through the ducts (the other is Spit, but I'll come back to the later.) It's not that far of a stretch to say she could reach the archives through the ducts.

OK, but fucking why would she do that, especially if she isn't the ghoul?

When she and Kitten argued on the stairs she said she was envious of how Kitten and the others operated without oversight. How stiffled she felt in her research. Neophites have even less acess to parts of the chapter house than maintenance, which for Grimal has got to sting while watching the chucklefucks make big moves on their own. It could be speculated that after seeing something relevant to her research in the archives, something she knows she'd never get permission to interact with, she decided to break into the archive, deal Occam an incapacitating blow from behind while he was performing the ritual to make sure she wasn't identified, and split. The non-lethal blow is also another reason I don't think it was the ghoul that broke in and attacked Occam. Given the level of violence done to Lord Fatigue later on, a much less intimidating target than Occam, I don't think a ghoul would have passed up the chance to take him out.

Speaking of Fatigue, why kill him at all? The only motive I can think of is to steal his archive key. And if the ghoul had attacked Occam, why would they need archive acess a second time? The could have gotten it off Occam's unconscious body, and why go for Fatigue is particular? Of the 4 people with archive acess. He's the least intimidating target, especially to a doped up ghoul. I might be over speculating on this but that point in particular leads me to believe that this ghoul is someone deeply insecure in their abilities as a combatant, which for me rules out all of the competent fighters, including Grimal.

Wow, a whole mountain of speculation on who I think it isnt- so why do I believe it's Giles?

My theory hinges on a peice of information casually dropped by Kevin during his interrogation about his sire. The way he describes the dynamic between his sire and her own sire is very similar to the one displayed by the 99p store manager and the woman she speaks to on the phone. Not to mention when she mentions that D called himself Kevin she calls it a coincidence. It's super strongly implied that She's Kevin's sire and the woman she's speaking with is the high-ranking Tremere in Yarmoth that Kevin described.

And She's managing a 99p store! That Giles works at!

If that's the case it's a direct connection between Giles and the Tremere, and it would explain how Kevin knew of the mole in the chapter house.

If it is him it would make sense why he wouldn't have been able to attack Occam, and why he would have needed to go after Fatigue for his archive key. If Occam's attacker had gone through the vents then it just couldn't have been him. He's not only too big to get through them, but he'd lost his keys to the security room with vent access before the attack. He'd need to go after another one of the elders to get it.

OK yeah Spit is also a security guard who is skinny enough to get in the vents and has been tweaking out basically the whole ep and he was the one in the room when Fatigue was murdered (unless his body just did that, but what are the odds?) , but I don't think it's him just because the evidence for others is so much stronger. Giles has the direct connection to the clan that placed the mole, and Grimal was placed at the security room. I personally buy more into the werewolf theory for Spit that I've seen others toss around.

Anyways it's 100% Giles.

[yunarim]

. . . loading : real-life otome simulator ☆ - chapter 4

❤︎ prologue ; chapter 1 ; chapter 2 ; chapter 3 ❤︎ tags : female reader, reader is yuu, extrovert reader, second-year reader, sfw, fluff, chapter 6 spoilers ❤︎ author's note : english isn't my first language, please make sure to point out mistakes if any! :) you can read this work on ao3 & wattpad ^^!

. . . loading 4th chapter : 60% (in which Yuu kinda realizes she got her new nickname for a solid reason, featuring Idia.exe crushing)

♡ before you read : minor mentions of death in tis chapter

What’s with that sudden pounding, my ass, Idia thought.

His heart was pounding when he woke up and got up from his bed too hastily, skipping beats accompanied by a white noise in his eyes. His heart was pounding when someone approached him in those rare moments he was actually passing through the college corridors, as if shadow crawling on the walls. His heart was pounding when Lucius made his way to Idia, who smiled with a glimpse of hope to hear a soft purr but got a scratch instead.

How would he know what was happening to the main heroine? Was she sick? Or was it the tea the characters shared together? Jeez, were these otome games always that hard? He even let an unanswered thought run through his mind that maybe he underestimated them just a little.

So a new task to his ultimate ‘totally not gonna tackle these problems ever ’ list was added.

⌜ Figure out what a girl in a romance visual novel could think about ⌝

His brain was working to excess when he was given a college task or developing new features for Ortho, thinking over a profitable in-game strategy to clear another dungeon and split obtained rewards between his teammates ー he’s a genius for a reason, after all.

But then again, collide with an 2D isekaied girl whose head is full of pink-colored bubbles of silly thoughts with a romantic hue on them? Never has he felt so stupid in his whole life.

Emotions were luxury. Why care if you’ll get an ending you want even if it would cost you a dozen walkthroughs and myriad retryings? It’s not like he would ever want to experience such dumb feelings in his whole lifetime, ever! 

And yet, something was different. Totally not a meowing notification sound he set specifically for Yuu (he’d rather die than admit he actually did that stupidly embarrassing thing). 

A week has passed since their last meeting. A whole week of Idia freaking out because of Yuu texting to him. At first he thought she was just being considerate and chatting with him out of an awkward feeling when you actually asked someone’s number and then realized that ghosting would be a perfect option but you have a socially approved quality called politeness, so there was no other way out but keep on texting basic things. 

Hell freaking no, Yuu wasn’t that simple and it was driving Idia crazy. 

Being a genius he was, he tried to divide analyzing his new… friend ’s (somehow the word itself wasn’t settling right, causing itching unpleasant feeling somewhere under his ribs) behavior into three stages.

1st stage: denying.

Of course she was sending him Gakemo short videos and frequently asking when the group has debuted, what their fandom name was, how many cats does the maknae* has ー all she had to do was to click on the internet icon and just type all her questions, getting a short summary in return. Maybe this was some kind of extroverts perk, when you actually don’t really want to chat but are still trying to be considerate and ask something…

Idia passed through this stage real quick when she made an ‘ultimate guide to Gakemo’ and uploaded it on her MagiTube channel, staying ever so unbothered by the insanely increasing number of subscribers. She devoted a freaking minute of a whole video to appreciate Idia’s help and thanking him for providing with an accurate info and things.

She’ll be the death of him.

2nd stage: making assumptions.

Okay, maybe she was at least slightly interested in keeping up with him and his interests. For what was it then? Ortho suggested asking her directly, but that option was out of the question. 

Why in the world would she be willing to continue chatting even if they took a little break from the game since Idia was thinking over the answer to the last in-game question?

Somehow he didn’t despise their conversations, genuinely appreciating silly photos of Grim she took. It was just enough to keep him entertained at first, but then Yuu proceeded to send him little greetings, sweet ‘good mornings’ and even more sugary ‘good nights’. 

Idia didn’t want to admit he grew to enjoy them with all his heart. Was he craving affection at least from someone so much that it became almost unbearable to wake up without another ‘gm!!’ from her with a different choice of emojis attached in the end?

But what was the profit for her in all those messages? She was an extrovert, not to mention she was extremely popular! 

3rd stage: getting embarrassed.

He was cringe. The cringiest man alive. Damn, given that he was nearly a freaking Ruler of the Underworld, he would still be the cringiest thing ever existed in the Twisted Wonderland history even underneath. The epitome of cringe, yes, that was the right name for him, waiting for Yuu‘s messages late at night when she was saying she’ll be back after bathing and then coming back only by morning, since she fell asleep out of fatigue. She would always apologize for not wishing good night to him. Oh Sevens, and was it necessary to make another Gakemo edit in an apology?

He felt stupid. Having feelings was the strangest thing he had ever suffered. The warmth flooded his heart as if wax, eroding over a candlestick from a dying candle. He was stuck to feeling undeserving, lacking everything which SSR-tier characters had, he was accustomed to being not enough. 

He wasn’t ready for those little messages of hers to drug him out and experience something flourishing in his chest when he realized he was genuinely thoroughly choosing an emojis to send in response.

Oh Sevens, it was 6:00 am.

A notification with a message popped up on his lockscreen, making him groan and click on his tongue. Sleep deprived again, he proceeded to pull an all-nighter and take a game session with his online teammates. 

Yuu‘s message worked better than any hangover cure. Not as if Idia ever had a hangover.

Isekai Expert ✨ : good morning!! I’m so excited for today~

Idia blinked twice and tried to collect his thoughts altogether, but all in vain since he could remember nothing.

Normie counter 👊 : wdym

Isekai Expert ✨ : dude… it’s potionology today

Normie counter 👊 : oh mkay congrats ig never knew your a sucker for potions

Isekai Expert ✨ : idia… we have joint classes for the second and third years today

Idia literally had left the chat.

───◌┈┈───♡⃝───┈┈◌───

Potionology was okay. Idia liked the subject, it was cool to work alone and mix something in a cauldron, but not freaking today!!

He wanted to merge with the furniture, sink through the ground, disappear in the blink of an eye ー all options would suffice, but there he was, awkwardly fidgeting in the corner of the auditorium and failing to hide his flashy hair. His height wasn’t helping at all, given he was almost twice as tall as most of the current second years. 

Sudden thought of being able to trace Yuu in this crowd somehow was quite calming, but a sweet feeling lingered only for a mere second. 

Right. She was an extrovert. 

It was Lilia who was always hanging around her, and Idia got used to it due to Yuu always nagging about how he was floating midair when she was studying in the library. 

What he did miss was the amount of affection Yuu was receiving from every freaking one in this hellish college.

Lilia did float midair, playing with her hair strands, while she was listening to Crewel’s explanation, her not even noticing Ace bending over her ear and whispering something. Grim used her as a means of transport, making himself comfortable on her shoulders when Deuce was fixing her protective glasses. As if the whole college was surrounding her, not even giving a place to breathe. 

Idia wondered if she ever was uncomfortable but was too occupied with his own predicament at the moment.

“Yuu, Idia and Lilia,” professor Crewel’s voice ringed in their ears. “You three are working together.”

Yuu gathered Lilia and Idia together, smiling brightly in an excitement to work with her best friend and… another friend?..

“Please take good care of me,” she proclaimed, nodding politely and causing Crewel to chuckle. 

“Pup, more likely it’s you who’ll take care of these two.”

“I’m not sure if I would deny it!” She giggled and turned to her companions. “Alright, shall we start?”

Alright, getting sorted into a team of those wasn’t so humiliating as Idia thought it would, but still he felt as if being sandwiched between two balls of energy, smiles surrounding him and caging in an extrovert trap. Could this whole situation be considered as a quest where he would get a reward from surviving?..

“Idia, are you listening?” Yuu asked, adjusting her gloves and grabbing materials, skimming through a manual given by professor Crewel at the same time. What a multi-tasking queen.

“Y-yeah, s-sorry…” a weak response escaped his lips as a long front locks fell on his shoulders when he benched over Yuu‘s small figure in an attempt to take a look at an manual Yuu was holding in order to get what he could do in order to get over this task real quick. 

“Guys, let me deal with preparations and mixing impurities in a mortar, I want to be at least a little of help,” signature smile appeared on her face, making Idia startle for a moment and try his best to ignore Lilia’s suspicious glances.

“Sure thing, sweetie,” Lilia replied and watched her making her way straight to the shelves filled with bottles of various contents. 

Idia allowed himself to take a deep breath and relax a little since Yuu wasn’t in his personal space (read as anyone within 20 meters) anymore. She wasn’t uncomfortable or overwhelming to be with, but rather… Yuu just shone too bright for him, overpassing the brightness of his fire hazard hair. 

He watched her trying to get something from a shelf she couldn’t reach as something just popped in his mind, urging him to offer his help, but of course he wasn’t the protagonist in this game called ‘Try getting Yuu‘s attention’ everyone was playing. It was Malleus who approached her in a loose manner, genuinely smiling at her and getting a dark purple bottle. SSR-tier character, absolutely OP, a whole ultimate material she’d totally simp for and ー

“You youngsters always manage to surprise me with your antics~”

Oh Sevens, Idia thought he fell straight into the Underworld itself as he jolted at a sudden Lilia’s remark.

“W-wha ー”

“Don’t you worry, you’ll get a chance to impress her someday~”

“I, ugh… Wh-what do you mean?..”

“Who knows… Just don’t hesitate, there’s a game-changing reward in the end.”

Right, Yuu mentioned Lilia was always the type to speak in riddles, but this was another difficulty level he couldn’t possibly surpass at the moment.

When Yuu returned with all preparations done Idia and Lilia proceeded to do their parts, accompanied by Yuu‘s encouraging words and little songs she hummed, from one of which actually recognized Gakemo’s latest b-side which went viral on social media and especially became a perfect material for editors makers. Really, she was cultured so much…

Professor Crewel asked them to show their work at the end of the lesson. Yuu was the one who presented everything, as if advertising a product for boosting magic energy and stamina (Idia even thought he heard Azul scheming something, being all ears at Yuu‘s presentation). Crewel asked Lilia and Idia to fill an empty test tube with their magic, and they did just so, then took a sip of the potion and took flasks this time, filling them once more. Crewel compared test tubes and flasks, giving a nod and appreciating how the magic color became more vibrant. 

“Since the potion wasn’t meant to be limited to magic boost only, prove to me that it has a great impact on stamina, too,” Crewel demanded, glaring at Yuu. She agreed, taking a potion in her hands and taking a deep breath. The thing is, she never tested potions she worked on since they only were meant to have an impact on magic abilities only.

“Alright!” Idia spotted Lilia frowning for a mere second, not actually liking his expression. 

Yuu took a sip from potion and demonstrated a few push ups she never really showed at Vargas’ lessons and then even jumped that high she was finally able to reach the highest shelf by herself. Amazed at her own abilities, she giggled, suspecting that was quite enough to prove that their potion worked.

“Beware of her, pups,” Crewel chuckled, taking notes and congratulating them on getting excellent marks today. “She may surpass you one day.”

“Huhu, isn’t she already?~” 

Idia took a quick glance at Yuu and got tensed when she spotted her biting her lip and placing her hand behind her back on the table in order to keep steady, she didn’t look good.

A permanent genuine smile plastered on her face wasn’t as calming as it used to be.

───◌┈┈───♡⃝───┈┈◌───

Idia rushed to get back home as quickly as he could. Enough with social interactions for today!!

“Oi, Idia!” 

No, no, no, silly, why would she yell in the schoolyard where everyone turned their heads to her and to him particularly, observing his awkward stance and then proceeding to stare. Ugh, why would she address him in such a crowded place andー

“Y-yeah, what do you want…”

He didn’t mean to sound rude but she didn’t seem to care, or maybe preferred to ignore this attitude of his, remaining considerate.

“A-actually,” she stuttered, her face looking paler. “It has been a long time since we hung out together. I wondered if you would be against my company for the rest of the day.”

“N-no, w-what are you saying!” Oh Sevens, how embarrassing this line was. “I’m o-okay..”

“Wonderful! Let’s go then?”

He nodded, thinking how awkward he looked, trying to figure out by what hand of hers should he walk, if she preferred to be from the left when she walked with someone, or was it more comfortable to be beside someone’s right? In any case, she didn’t say anything and just turned around to smile at him.

Oh Sevens, what’s with that indefinable tugging in his chest?

Just right when they reached the Hall of Mirrors, Yuu suddenly gasped and turned to Idia with an apologetic look.

“I forgot my books on the rooftop when I was having lunch with Lilia… Could you please wait for me here? I promise I’ll be back real quick!”

Realization hit him, as if in-game choice popping up in front of, options floating midair.

╰► Go with her

╰► Wait for her here

It took him a half of a minute to gather all his thoughts, weigh all pros and cons of his next step, and finally made his choice, biting his lip just before voicing it out.

“I-it’s fine, I’ll go with you… I-it won’t take a lot of time…”

Jeez, he was going absolutely insane. What, did he actually want to play a protagonist role in a jitney otome novel, trying to woo a female lead who obviously had better options? All she had to do was pick one, given she already managed to befriend The Malleus Draconia.

And there he was, waiting for her gathering all her belongings and almost ready to go back to his dorm. 

Thankfully, there was no one on the rooftop, and Idia sunk deep into his thoughts, calculating in his head whether they should watch a movie together or play some other games, he could introduce her to the Star Rogue lore, or they could rewatch Gakemo best performances ー

He didn’t realize a whole five minutes passed with Yuu staring somewhere into the sky and complaining quietly that the air turned quite stuffy. The realization hit him with small sharp needles of rainfall. 

He quickly made his way under the roof, feeling how the tips of his hair became steamy, scalding vapor dancing on his neck and shoulders. Idia sighed and took a quick glance at Yuu, her still standing beside the roof railing and slowly turning to him.

She seemed so… out of reach. Idia thought if she would turn to sand in any second and slip through his fingers, eluding him forever. 

“Right as I wondered how your hair would react on the rain,” no malice was heard in her words. “I’m sorry, I just… No, it’s nothing. Let’s go! Oh, and don’t worry, I have an umbrella with me.”

U-umbrella?! Oh no, another challenge awaited him, and THAT one was rated as S-rank difficulty one. Should he just embarrass himself and get his hair wet, a literally extinguished fire replacing his usual blue flames? Or would it be better to carry her umbrella so they wouldn’t get soaked together since she was obviously smaller than him?!

It was worse. 

She was the one to hold the umbrella all the way long just because she found it amusing to try managing the whole trip and jumped a little when it was really hard to cover Idia. Even worse that she actually succeeded and Idia cringed at the way he didn’t do at least something to help her. Again.

───◌┈┈───♡⃝───┈┈◌───

Idia hated himself for not cleaning his room up today. And even if Yuu convinced him it was okay and he should visit Ramshackle dorm someday so that he would never again think of his room as of mess, but mess aside, he forgot to turn off his PC.

With the cringiest isekai manga he was reading just to kill some time before going to sleep.

“A-argh, that’s not what you think!!”

Yuu just burst into laughter, while Idia was agonizing he embarrassed himself so damn much for today it was unbearable. 

“Goodness, I didn’t know you read such things! That one is a real cringe, though,” she commented on the opened frames with the heroine saying nonsense to her love interest. Then an idea came to him.

“How’d you know it’s cringe? Did you read it yourself? Sevens, don’t tell me you prefer such lame things over Star Rogue manga adaptation…” 

“Answering your question, yeah, I guess I just consume everything of the genre… And I didn’t have a chance to actually play Star Rogue, not to mention I didn’t even know there was a manga!!”

“Jeez, you’re so uncultured. Alright, gotta introduce you to the actual masterpiece. Get another controller, we’re about to pull an all-nighter in order to make you a Star Rogue expert.”

“Ooh, I like the spirit! Let’s start!”

He wasted no more second, adjusting his floating displays while Yuu took her personal pillow to sit on and grabbed a controller, ready for the introduction. 

The first few hours were considerably okay. Yuu was actually having fun and trying to grasp all the lore alongside with the gameplay and listened to Idia’s ramblings and mutterings, his speech turning into a current of incoherent phrases she was diving through, chickling sometimes.

Something wasn’t right with her body. 

She immediately thought of standing under the rain and getting soaked, but then her attention switched to the other event that happened today, potionology class that would be. Was it because their potion went wrong somewhere? But Idia seemed to be completely fine. Then she came to a conclusion she felt so sick due to her showing no possession of magic, while the potion was accustomed for magicians only. Shit, she thought, trying to cover her ailment with a gentle smile and concentrating on Idia talking.

Turned out her plan wasn’t much of help as Idia just paused the game, looking displeased with Yuu’s attention lacking.

“Hey, you won’t get the next scene if you skip this one!”

“S-sorry, it’s just… Could we take a little break? We were sitting this whole time for three hours straight.”

“E-ergh, alright. I guess you’re not so used to long gaming sessions as I thought!”

“Yep, but I bet you won’t last long reading manga! Damn, you missed my best manga-addict era, poor you~”

Idia sighed and took a quick glance at her, noticing her cheeks getting redder in a rather unhealthy way.

“U-uhm, actually, can I ask you a question?..”

“Sure, why not.”

“H-how…” he stuttered for a mere second when she switched her attention to him fully, looking straight into his eyes, making him avoid her gaze. “A-are you feeling after getting isekaied? I mean, you’re an isekai expert after all…”

She giggled and closed her eyes, as if she was recalling something.

“Promise you won’t cringe.”

“I would,” he replied half-jokingly. “I-it’s just… when manga heroines happen to isekai it always feels as if it’s not enough. Like, you know, don’t you all extroverts have your family, friends and stuff back at home?”

“Oh…”

She took a deep breath, opening her eyes and staring somewhere into the wall in front of her. 

“It's lonely. I miss my parents and friends. I had my routine back home, I was normal, and here I am, being absolutely magicless in a college full of magicians, always getting drugged into dangerous situations. I almost died, like, six times?” Idia personally felt himself included into this list of the reasons she got heavily injured and barely made it alive.

It was disgusting. He felt as if he was about to make himself out of the room, out of her circle of… friends? She was so strong and collected, while here he was, stuttering over nothing and stressing himself out just because he didn’t manage to pull his favorite character card in some shitty gacha game he was playing just to kill some time , when she was facing situations where she herself was almost killed.

He gulped at the thought of losing her one day, and an echinate sensation creeping inside him and wrapping thorny vines around his heart made Idia bite his lip hard.

“Sometimes I just think about whether I should return or not. It’s not like I know how but if I would, then what would my final decision turn into in the end? I have everything there, and yet I don’t have anything at the same time. I feel awful, as if I’m betraying my real self, making myself split into two parts: one remained back in my home, and one is the current me I’m presenting to everyone here. And the final question is always… which of the homes I have I can refer to as ‘my’ at this point?

Idia wasn’t thinking. An inexplicable impulse running through his entire body made him swallow nervously and cover her hand with his. It was suffocatingly awkward, and he wasn't sure— anything at all —whether she needed his support, but the overflowing warmth he had felt from their first meal together turned into a fond memory, and he sincerely wanted to calm her down for a mere second.

“i… “ she muttered. “T-thank you. Truly.”

“N-no problem…”

Unexpected fatigue covered her little figure when Idia tried to voice his speech he was mentally preparing in order to give a reply she deserved, but even though she did hear a few lines, Yuu closed her eyes and let out a small weak sigh, causing Idia to flinch a little. Did she not want his support in the end?..

“H-hey, I just wanted to… Huh?”

She rested her head on his shoulder, strands of her hair tossed on her face in a cute mess way. Idia stared at her parted lips with a cherry colored tint on them, which glittered prettily under the dim blue lights of his room and didn’t notice how the tips of his hair turned rosy, going from little flickers to massive bright sparkles.  

She leaned to his side with her whole body, almost sliding down, and he just realized she lost her consciousness and wasn’t controlling herself, her body hot and her cheeks almost burning. 

Oh Sevens, thankfully Ortho rushed into the room, looking worried, and found the two of them in an awkward position.

“Brother!! I just got a notification that your heart rate went crazy!” he proclaimed. “Is everything okay?!”

“I… I’m… Y-yeah, I’m fine, but Yuu… Check out her body temperature, please. It might be a fever.”

“Okay, leave it to me!”

With that Idia watched as Ortho placed her on Idia’s bed and then turned away as Ortho was managing with Yuu‘s clothes in order to loosen the tie so she can breathe easier. 

“I found traces of the potion in her respiratory tract, brother. Everything’s going to be okay, just let her rest a little, I’ll bring everything needed.”

“Y-yeah, alright… Thank you.”

As Ortho left the room Idia looked at Yuu and approached her, as if led by something intangible, not realizing his actions, and adjusted the blanket, taking a quick glance at her lips once more and almost weightlessly touching her fingers.

He figured out the answer for the last in-game choice this time.

❤︎ notes :

* maknae - the youngest member of the idol group

btw guys i wonder if you need a tag list for this one fic (or in general too)… please let me know 🤍

© ayavielle 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐲, 𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧.

[fablesuntold]

🪓 Biography. Joel Miller 🪓

Most of this is made up by the mun— do not steal or reblog as I’ve put a lot of thought into this. Also do not copy this layout.

Basic info:

Name: Joel Miller.

Age:

28 years old. (pre-outbreak)

48 years old. (part 1)

53 years old. (part 2)

Birthday: Born September 26th.

Zodiac sign: Libra.

Gender: Male.

Sexuality: Heterosexual.

Nationality: American.

Born in: Austin, Texas.

Currently resides in: Jackson City, Wyoming.

Morality: Morally grey.

Occupation:

Carpenter (former/pre-outbreak)

Hunter (former)

Smuggler (former)

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Appearance:

Height: 180.3 cm/5’11”.

Weight: 91 kg/14 stone.

Hair: Brunette/Greying.

Eyes: Greenish Brown/Hazel.

Scars: A deep scar across the bridge of his nose and multiple smaller ones loitering his body head to toe from years of surviving in a world riddled with infected and dangerous people alike. His most prominent scar sits on his side where he fell from a height and landed on a metal rod which impaled clean through his abdomen. If not for Ellie, Joel would have certainly been a goner right then and there.

Other: Joel is often covered in grime and dirt from days of hardship— the dried blood under his fingernails basically stained. On bad days his face looks more weathered, the stress of living in a world where the dead freely roam the streets causing his wrinkles to appear more visible. The bags under his eyes have quickly become a common sight too.

Psychical appearance:

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Family/Friends:

Mother: Bonnie Miller.

Status: Deceased.

Relationship: Growing up, Joel was close to his mother as it was only the two of them and Tommy. He helped her take care of Tommy until she developed early onset dementia— which she later succumbed to and passed away in the nursing home she was placed in. It’s safe to say that Joel was devastated when his mother passed.

Father: Travis Miller.

Status: Unknown/presumably deceased.

Relationship: Travis left after Joel’s younger brother, Tommy, was born and decided to cut all ties to his family. Leaving Joel to be the man of the house, he grew bitter and indifferent toward his father. He can barely remember anything about the man, and doesn’t wish to either. It’s why he vowed to be a better father than he ever was when Sarah came along.

Siblings: One younger brother named Tommy. Given their father’s absence, Joel acted as both an older brother and a father to Tommy growing up. The two always did have a close bond, but once the virus broke out and Joel felt as though he’d lost everything.. their relationship soured to the point of psychical fights and they eventually parted ways, only to meet again years down the road.

Spouse: Joel got hitched pretty young (18) to a girl named Carla (18) after she fell pregnant due to a one night stand. Unfortunately the two could never make it work, and given the fact that Carla disliked motherhood, she packed up her things and left Joel to be a single father— never to be seen again, cutting both her husband and daughter out of her life.

Kids: One daughter named Sarah (12). Being a single dad, Sarah only had Joel to depend on and even though he worked most of the time to provide for her, the two were close. They often went to soccer games together, zoos, museums, coffee shops and hung out at the movies whenever Joel wasn’t busy. Unfortunately on outbreak day, Sarah didn’t stand a chance when she hurt her leg during a car accident upon trying to escape from the city. She was later fatally shot by a solider who was given the order to shoot anyone who approached in case they were infected, and she tragically died in Joel’s arms from blood loss. Joel has never recovered from her death.. though he does start his journey to healing when happening upon a young girl named Ellie who he takes under his wing over time and ultimately ends up adopting— a found family he didn’t know he needed or wanted.

Pets: Joel never had time for pets, but he promised Sarah he’d get her a hamster or a Guinea pig. The outbreak occurred before he could fulfil that promise, just another thing Joel looks back on and regrets.

Friends: Due to trust issues and the fact that it isn’t smart to trust anyone in an apocalyptic world, Joel doesn’t consider many people as friends. Although he developed a somewhat deep connection with Tess, another weathered survivor who shared the same morals and beliefs as him. The two partnered up in a quarantine zone, and ever since they met they were inseparable— Joel would even go as far as to say he likes her— and their occasional hookups. Nothing serious. Not that he’ll ever admit it, but he’s also close to Bill who he knows he can count on when in a sticky situation.

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Other:

Personality: A hardened survivor, Joel can come across as cruel, cold and hostile to those around him. Some of the choices he makes can be seen as ruthless, reckless and selfish.. but he does what he has to do in order to survive. With the mind set kill or be killed, Joel isn’t very merciful to those who stand in his way and when provoked, he can be a very dangerous man, reverting to torture tactics and violence if need be. Deep underneath all that gruff, there’s a man with a big heart. He’d do anything to keep his family safe, and his overprotective nature can often land him in heaps of trouble.

MBTI type: ISTJ. Introverted, Sensing, Thinking, Judging. This MBTI type is practical, realistic, and dependable and are often seen as the strong protector or leader in a group.

Any mental illnesses: After Sarah’s death, Joel fell into a deep depression and even tried to take his own life because he saw no point in carrying on. In his mind, he failed to save his own daughter and he had nothing else to live for. Luckily, he changed his mind last minute and when holding the gun under his chin, his hand jerked away just before the shot could hit him, the bullet narrowly missing his ear by an inch. This failed suicide attempt left him deaf in one ear.

Weapons: Joel has a vast range of weapons which he’s collected over the years. Ranging from hunting rifles, pistols, bows, sub-machine guns and various melee weapons. His favourite is his trusty old revolver though— something he started the apocalypse with and reminds him of home.

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Backstory:

Growing up in Texas, it was only Joel, his mother and his younger brother after his father left one evening and never came back. Joel supported his mother the best he could in taking care of the family until she developed early onset dementia and died a couple of years later.

It was hard to grieve her death with Tommy to take care of, and as a result Joel began drinking heavily at the young age of fifteen. This bad habit drove him to make some risky decisions and by the time he reached sixteen, Joel got the news that a one night stand of his (Carla) had fallen pregnant— and that’s when Sarah came along. Despite being young and scared out of his mind about parenthood, Joel dropped out of school and got a job as an apprentice carpenter so that he could provide for his young family— vowing to be the best father he could be.

Over the years Joel tried to make it work with Carla, even going as far as to propose to her when they were eighteen.. but sadly the two never could see eye to eye, wanting different things in life, and by the time Sarah was three years old, Carla was out of the picture after leaving in the middle of the night with little to no explanation— deciding that family life just wasn’t for her. This was the start of Joel’s deep distrust toward people.. but at least he still had Sarah.

Being a single father wasn’t at all as difficult as Joel anticipated it would be though, and over the years him and Sarah became best buds.

On the night of September 26th 2013, Joel’s birthday, a global pandemic broke out— one that quickly ravaged the world and tainted it with the undead, the Cordyceps virus, Joel would later discover. Unfortunately after trying to escape the city at the start of the outbreak with Tommy and Sarah, the trio got into a car crash which ended in Sarah’s ankle breaking. Joel carried her as far as he could, promising that he’d get her somewhere safe.. but tragically he failed to keep that promise when coming across a solider who had been given strict orders to shoot anyone who approached him on sight in fear of the civilians in the city being infected.

Before Joel could do so much as shield his daughter, she was hit and passed away in his arms from blood loss. After losing Sarah, Joel became cold and hostile to the world around him, developing an even deeper distrust toward everyone— soldiers in particular. It was this exact same hostility that lead to him and Tommy parting ways after many arguments and psychical fights broke out between them.

With no one to rely on and a world populated with infected, Joel saw no point in continuing on. He soon attempted suicide but ultimately decided against it when the watch on his wrist, the one Sarah gifted him for his birthday, halted him in his tracks before the bullet could make contact.

From there on out, and a few reckless decisions later with groups he briefly ran with, Joel spent most of his days in and out of quarantine zone camps looking for a new purpose, and that’s when he took on the role of a smuggler. A role that would unknowingly change his life for the better.

[bestworstcase]

anyway mulling over the hawker as a distraction from other brainrot and what i keep returning to with him is the wordplay on ‘hawker’ as a person who hawks wares and a person who hawks (<- as in falconry) and a british fighter plane in use during the 1930s-40s (<- the hawker hurricane, new info to me as it came up when i went to double-check hawker as a real synonym for falconer, but there’s an… interesting congruence with our hawker in that one of their notable uses was evidently being sailed around in merchant convoys(!) and catapulted(!) at hostile bombers whereafter pilots would typically bail and the aircraft would be lost(!), making them in effect a single-use emergency line of defense(!) in a stopgap system cobbled together before adequate escort aircraft carriers were available. see also catapult aircraft merchant ship i’ve been staring at wikipedia like Excuse Me? for a solid twenty minutes)

which is all very—i mean it’s wonderland, wordplay is mandatory. but then he’s also this adorable parrot-like bird (<- borogove) who wanders about selling mud cookies (<- mimsy bc nobody buys them and this makes me very sad) in a marketplace whose other denizens include these… smooth excitable creatures of indeterminate nature one of whom sells cheese (<- definitely slithy and probably toves) and which is itself a spiraling structure (<- so you gyre in it) in the center of a large lake (<- so the market is a wabe, because the lake goes a long way behind it and a long way beyond it in any direction). i do not have the wherewithal to comb the background of every shot for raths but the girls are certainly mome and the forest around the lake is tulgey, so raths or no jabberwocky is loudly everywhere well before the jabberwalker makes an entrance. so it all tracks as a subtle repetition of jabberwocky’s first stanza with the hawker being the element most clearly in focus but then we get this reversal of meaning from hawker into hawker and this formerly harmless and adorable parrot, who is really quite large and as it turns out rather more hawklike when he’s screaming battle-cries and hurtling talons-first toward the camera, not only goes toe-to-toe with the jabberwalker but also does fairly well at first (<- he fully stops the jabberwalker mid-charge and bowls it over in his first strike, and then we hear him keeping it pinned down while the cat talks to ruby; he only gets into trouble when the jabberwalker snags him out of the air, which is also something it does to ruby mid-burst—so this is not a clear-cut case of a civilian getting curb-stomped necessarily because we’ve just seen that this creature’s reflexes are faster than ruby’s semblance.)

and like borogoves are not the only kind of bird mentioned in jabberwocky; there’s also the jubjub bird (<- note singular), of which the poem’s subject is advised to “beware.” in the hunting of the snark, the jubjub bird makes a somewhat more detailed appearance: it lives in a cold, narrow valley and is an evidently nocturnal bird whose arrival is heralded by a “scream, shrill and high.” the jubjub bird is temperamentally “desperate” because it “lives in perpetual passion” and in appearance it is “entirely absurd” because “its taste in costume […] is ages ahead of the fashion”—so the literal suggestion here is that the jubjub bird wears clothes. further it is, while fearsome, not a bad creature; “it knows any friend it has met once before:/it never will look at a bribe:/and in charity meetings it stands at the door,/and collects—though it does not subscribe.”

so, while jabberwocky does not elaborate whatsoever on the jubjub bird’s nature, with snark taken into consideration, the hawker suggests the description of the dangerous but also amicable jubjub bird to a much greater degree than he does the hapless borogoves. the ambiguous dual meaning of his name (<- i.e. purpose) is thus reiterated in his allusion, at passing glance to the borogoves but with a little more attention (and familiarity with carroll) revealing himself as the jubjub bird. and then there’s the convoy catapult emergency bomber-intercept hawker hurricane whose purpose is to sacrifice itself to protect seafaring merchants as a stopgap until the arrival of more suitable escorts, which is either an absolutely hysterical coincidence or else someone on the writing team couldn’t resist the allure of “hurricat.” (<- REAL TERM. do note the pilots of these planes bailed and were then collected by their convoys unless things went really badly awry, which is somewhat reassuring as to the likelihood that neo’s fake jabberwalkers can’t permadeath the denizens like the real one can.)

AND THEN like, the cat says they gave the hawker something new to do and people have generally put that together with the inexplicable electric-blue eye light trails to conclude that the cat outright brainwashed the guy, but i don’t think that’s the obvious smoking gun people think it is—the light trails match the bright blue color on his beak, and his eyes and the teal stripes on his cookie tray are the same color desaturated. (and this is the second time rwby has given eyes of flame to the opponent of the eyeless jabberwalker, with the first metaphorical instance also being reified through yang popping her semblance to land the killing blow, so like. it’s a thing. to read the poem you have to hold it up to a mirror thus by extension you cannot encounter the jabberwock except by coming face-to-face with yourself, is the idea being played with here. maybe the jabberwock is you.)

and taken together with the hawker of goods/hawker of hawks wordplay and the jubjub-bird-masquerading-as-borogove allusion and the catapult bomber intercept hawker sacrifice merchant convoy thing… like for as little presence as the hawker has in the episode there’s really a lot of thematic density and all of it is singularly focused on constructing this holographic identity. this hawker is for selling and that hawker is for hunting, superimpose the two and you get a fierce-silly-sociable-scary interference pattern of the jubjub bird peddling cookies and knocking the jabberwock on its ass and going down fighting to defend the local market; did the cat force a new purpose on him or just tap him for the reverse angle of the purpose he already had?—and this question arises in the context of an arc narrative set in wonderland-through-the-looking-glass and working with mirror-image and reversal and optical illusion and hidden meaning as its fundamental symbolic building blocks and exploration/interrogation of identity through changed perception of the self as its central thematic conceit! like! there’s a lot going on in here!

[ozzy-in-the-void]

Sorry for not posting in months, every single day seems to be worse than the last and im on the verge of suicide

I watched my dad die (he was able to he resuscitated, but spent a month in hospital) during that month, i barely ate or slept, kept passing out and my legs kept just not working for hours at a time, my step mum shouted at me daily for not doing enough to clean my dads house even tho I was literally spending 24 hours a day cleaning it, and spending over 600 quid on the house and my brother, because of that my disabilitys have gotten significantly worse. I had to tell social services about my step mum, then because of that sarah had to find out because social services wanted her contact info. When i came back to college, some random drunk guy in town groped me to 'see if I was a girl or a boy', every damn day at work has been so goddamn shit, ive had to pick up more shifts at work to the point my body is giving up on me because social services are helping me move out in a few months but its insanely expensive and because im 17 im not entitled to housing benefits, my step mum found out im trying to move out and shes treating me worse than she has maybe ever, last night i was up most the night because people at college were spreading rumours id been kicked out and obviously i needed to set the record straight, even tho i had to wake up early for work. Every day im scared im gonna wake up to find out my dad died because he needs a liver transplant but he has to be totally sober for 6 months solid.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 316: We've Had One, Yes, But What About Second Explosion

Previously on BnHA: Deku was all “[powers up like whoa because it’s time to end the fight]”, and he saved Overhaul from getting not-shot, and then smashed up Nagant’s arm with the power of his new rechargeable super knees. Nagant was all “yoooo this kid is crazy strong whaaaat, it’s like he’s some kind of protagonist or something.” Deku was all “I AM A PROTAGONIST, ACTUALLY, DO YOU WANT TO JOIN FORCES AND FIGHT BAD GUYS WITH ME?” Nagant was all “ah shit why the hell no -- ” and then AFO was all “SURPRISE” and everyone was all “?!?!?!” and AFO was all “TIME TO EXPLODE NOW” and made Nagant explode because he’s an absolute fucking dick. And then Hawks showed up, because Horikoshi just wanted to stuff as many plot points as humanly possible into a single chapter I guess.

Today on BnHA: Hawks is all “good job giving motivational shounen redemption speeches Deku but I’ll take it from here” and screams very earnestly right in Nagant’s face until she finally wakes up. Nagant is all “oh hey it’s my successor, you seem surprisingly unfucked-up from your own HPSC tenure, how did you manage that?” Hawks is all “fandom is going to love hearing this one, but basically it’s because I’m very upbeat and also I had the world’s best role model Endeavor to look up to,” and I swear this man stirs the pot on purpose, but damn it I still love him so damn much. Overhaul is all “HELLO AGAIN, JUST A REMINDER THAT, THE BOSS!!” and Deku is all “MAYBE TAKE TWO SECONDS TO REFLECT ON HOW YOU TORTURED A LITTLE GIRL,” which, thank you, lol. Nagant is all “btw AFO’s hiding in a house in the woods”, and so Deku and the gang go to the house in the woods. Video recording!AFO is all “hi I’m AFO welcome to Jackass” and blows up the house. Sometimes I wonder if this manga is just a weird dream.

I am once again reading the Bean version because I think it was actually the best out of all three translations last week. and that is surprisingly including Viz’s. “faux” is not nearly as entertaining as “knockoff”, and also I have literally no idea why Caleb thought Deku was saying the Third’s lines lol

oh hey, Endeavor’s here too! not that you’d ever be able to tell from this first panel lmao

glad you received All Might’s call, mysterious unidentified glowing smudge

oh snap he says he’s weaker in the rain. is that why AFO told Nagant to attack then?? except that as we discussed the other day, I believe that AFO fully intended for Nagant to lose the fight, so him giving her info that would give her an advantage doesn’t really fit in with that. maybe he wanted Deku to be separated from Endeavor and the rest for maximum angst, though

btw Deku’s eyes are unsurprisingly back to the new normal here

alas, the angst continues. I say, pretending like I’m not totally eating it up each and every week and writing essay after essay about it lol

anyway so apparently Hawks can’t actually fly lmao. he was just yeeting himself with style

for some reason this is the funniest fucking thing I’ve ever seen omfg. wave to Hawks, kids! say “bye, Hawks!”

j/k of course Deku is catching them. -- except???

wow so he was just running on fumes there at the end. well, good to know there is actually a limit to his shenanigans, particularly regarding this new “knockoff” 100% OFA. it will definitely not alleviate any of the discourse, but it’s good for my own peace of mind because it’s solid confirmation that he still needs his pals in order to win this thing

anyway, but on to the rest of this conversation, which is basically Deku deducing what we all deduced last week -- AFO implanted some sort of trap into Nagant when he gave her Air Walk. though I’d still like to get the actual details from AFO and/or Horikoshi, because this was particularly wild even by quirk standards lol

omgggggg

she still has a face after all!! so it’s confirmed, Horikoshi has no idea what “blowing up” actually means. we might have guessed, based on what happened to Toga in the MVA arc, and also based on everything Katsuki does ever, but shhh

so now Hawks is all “NAGANT PLEASE WAKE UP, IF I SHOUT MY NAME AT YOU WILL THAT DO THE TRICK”

this is actually kind of touching though because even though we all know (or most of us acknowledge at any rate) that Hawks is a pretty caring person, it’s rare to see him actually panic over someone’s welfare like this

oh shit Horikoshi is really doubling down on it

I wonder how much Hawks knew about what really happened between Nagant and the HPSC. regardless, he probably sees her as a kindred spirit of sorts, and I’m more than happy for Deku to pass the redemption torch onto him now that he’s on the scene. like no offense Deku but they actually know each other and stuff lol

DAMMIT NAGANT CAN’T YOU SEE HOW LOUD HE IS YELLING

apparently being freed from his HPSC shackles has finally given Hawks the space to embrace his own inner shounen protagonist. is there anything more shounen than trying to motivationally scream someone awake when they’re lying in your arms inches from death?? 100% guaranteed to work

!!! IS THIS NAGANT’S POV OMG

SO SHE IS ALIVE. THANK GOD. Horikoshi doesn’t want to meet with my emotional distress lawyer today after all

love how she’s all “just gonna stir up the weekly Hawks Discourse pot here by implying that he probably committed a lot of Atrocities just like I did, so now people can get all hopped up about that, even though there’s no evidence he’s ever killed anyone aside from that one horrible ‘damned-if-you-do...’ situation with Twice.” no one asked for your provocative speculation young lady!! trust me Nagant, our rabbles don’t need the rousing lol

but nice save there with the “so how are your eyes so untainted” well you see it’s because even when he was following the HPSC’s orders he always went to great lengths never to go against his own moral compass. which just to be clear was incredibly difficult, and led to a ton of pain and suffering on his part, because the life of a spy is basically just one impossible situation after another. but in spite of that he never stopped trying to do his best to help people. I don’t really know where this tangent came from or is leading to, lol, but anyway p.s.a. I love Hawks a lot and he’s a good kid dammit

oh shit??!?

how is the League always able to swing all these fancy forest mansions. where do they find them. how many do they have

so Deku’s dropping them -- very roughly, not sure if he was reacting to finally getting AFO’s location, or if his energy really is giving out -- and now Nagant’s saying that AFO hired other villains as well. well of course he did. gotta keep chipping away at OFA’s ninth successor little by little

now Nagant is asking Hawks how he’s able to keep making “that” face. I assume she’s again talking about the fact that he somehow didn’t let the HPSC wear down his spirit

oh my god???

thanks for stuffing this chapter to the brim with good nutritional Hawks Feels, Horikoshi. what a good. he just keeps on trudging forward undeterred no matter what bullshit comes his way. what a steadfast little guy. I WILL PROTECT YOU FROM DISCOURSE MY SWEET SUNSHINE

lmaoooo

“SPOTTED THIS DUDE JUST CHILLING OUT THERE ON THE ROOF WITH NO ARMS, SEEMED PRETTY SUS” good job Endeavor

anyway so you don’t really need me to tell you that Overhaul is immediately starting in with the “BUT THE BOSS WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO TAKE ME TO THE BOSS YOU PROMISED YOU WOULD TAKE ME TO THE BOSS” stuff again. but I will go ahead and tell you anyway. so yeah. he’s doing that

OMG YOU GUYS LOOK AT DEKU’S “of all the fucking assholes to just randomly drop in on my life once again why did it have to be you” FACE THOUGH, OMG

fun fact, if you go back to chapters 124 through 160, there was an entire story arc where Overhaul imprisoned and tortured a little girl. yeah, I know!! suuuuuuuuper evil. anyways just an interesting little anecdote for you all that’s somewhat relevant to the current situation

OMG, YES. FUCK YES, DEKU

THEN WHAT ABOUT SPARING ONE FOR HER!!! YES!!! EXACTLY!!! JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, SOMEONE GETS IT

HERE’S THE PANEL OF DEKU SAYING THE EXACT SAME THING I’M SAYING LOL

(ETA: so apparently there’s some discourse about this because some people are interpreting this as Deku saying “you should apologize to Eri”, which would obviously be a terrible idea even if Overhaul actually wanted to do that, because Eri shouldn’t ever have to see him again. however I just want to point out that there is a HUGE difference between saying “it would be nice if you could direct that feeling of regret/being sorry towards Eri as well”, vs saying “you should also apologize to her.” all Deku is doing is rightfully pointing out that Overhaul has hurt way more people than just his boss, and if he really is remorseful, then he should extend those feelings of remorse to Eri and the rest as well. it’s not a directive to take any specific action, and I’m 1000% sure no one at U.A. would let Overhaul within 100 miles of Eri ever again.

tl;dr “try feeling remorse sometime” =/= “do you want me to fly you over to U.A. right now to surprise the little girl you traumatized”, lol.)

[slings an arm around Deku’s shoulders] you’re a good kid. I like you. I don’t know if I tell you that enough, but it’s true

meanwhile here is Overhaul’s “spare... a thought... for Eri...???????” face sigh

the struggle is real y’all

(ETA: and that’s... the last we ever saw of Overhaul, I guess? well all right then. I assume Deku will make good on his promise, so we know he’ll get that little bit of closure before going back to jail or whatever, and I confess I’m more than fine with leaving the rest of it open-ended, especially given his character’s history. I think this was pretty generous all things considered.)

lmao holy shit

All Might what did you do to those tiki torch guys?? did you thrash them. did you give ‘em those hands. did you deliver their own asses to them complete with a sticker reminding them Amazon Prime Day is on June 21. we missed out goddammit

so Endeavor, who wasn’t the one he was asking, is telling him that they captured (well let’s be real, Deku captured, give the credit where it’s due) Nagant and Overhaul. and so I guess they’re going to take Nagant to the ER now

fire is no one’s weakness

-- oh my GOD I scrolled down and audibly gasped

[is politely but firmly approached and asked to remove my arm from Deku’s shoulder by the physical manifestation of all this Dekuangst] “we’re sorry, he’s not allowed to have visitors right now” oh shit, my bad. [goes to stand behind a police barricade]

lmao what. did you run out of room on the previous page

what an exaggerated fade to black lmao

-- AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

I actually can’t see what he’s reacting to so maybe I’m just seriously jumping the gun here lol, but THE HELL WITH IT. the next panel appears to be a cut to Haibori Forest, so I’m just gonna go ahead and declare that Deku ran off on his own all wounded to go have more Dekuangst, just like I manifested. now go call Katsuki goddammit

[scrolls three more inches down] oh

yeah so like I said, Deku is walking very slowly a few feet in front of Endeavor, who’s telling him to wait up. yep. we’ve all gotta be so careful to not just jump to conclusions. I know we’re excited but still

anyway, so! welcome back to Mt. Lady and Kamui Woods (ARE YOU GUYS DATING) and Edgeshot! have fun walking into this obvious trap lol

dammit Deku why are you so determined to tempt fate

[monkey puppet meme faces]

OH MY GOD THIS IS PURE GRADE-A CHEESY COMIC BOOK VILLAIN 101 SHIT AND I’M HERE FOR IT

that’s such a weird way of clapping who claps like that

unlike certain other people who shan’t be named, AFO doesn’t feel the need to inexplicably take his shirt off when recording sinister villain monologues. I think we’re all pretty grateful for that

high fives to everyone who called it!! yep yep

anyway so this whole scene has major booby-trap vibes, which I’m enjoying immensely even though I don’t think anything is really going to come of it lol. probably just another long-winded AFO Speech. but wouldn’t it be funny if like the ceiling started lowering down to try and squish Deku afterwards lol

(ETA: well the explosion was still pretty funny too ngl.)

ffff

[“Dekuangst is the trap” intensifies]

anyway so yeah. he’s just hitting up all of his usual villain talking points. we get it, you’re so smart and you see right through the thin veneers of society and people who don’t conform are left to fend for themselves and labeled as villains and history is written by the victors, and blah blah blah dude are you just jumping randomly from one soundbyte to another lol. literally what are you talking about. what does this have to do with you blowing up Nagant

-- holy shit??

[”Dekuangst is the trap” intensifies MORE?????]

LOL WHAT

BRO. WHAT IS WITH YOU. DON’T YOU KNOW HOW TO LAY ANY OTHER KIND OF FUCKING TRAP GOOD LORD

“YOU’RE NEXT” THE CALLBACK?? THE PARALLELS?? THOUGH WHEN ALL MIGHT POINTED HE MADE IT LOOK WAY COOLER. AFO’S POINTING JUST LOOKS LIKE SMOKEY THE BEAR

HAS ANYONE CHECKED IN ON KAMUI WOODS I HEAR HE IS WEAK TO FIRE?? THE ONLY ONE WHO IS, APPARENTLY

r.i.p. to this particular forest mansion. don’t worry they have a ton of backups

remember last week when I said maybe AFO thinks explosions are gauche. well never mind. he fucking loves explosions

anyway so that’s the end of BnHA, everyone. hope you enjoyed. it was a good ride while it lasted. see you all, good luck in your travels

[shining-magically]

so I’ve wondered this since the trailer came out years and years ago and Chloe defended the movie - was the red shoes teaser written by the same team that made the movie? were they forced to market it like that, was that based on an earlier draft, etc?? not sure if you know but you seem like the leading expert!

Sorry, this is gonna be an absolute novel because you know I’m an animation fan and the history and production of Red Shoes and the Seven Dwarfs is SO interesting and insane. Like, Tangled levels of insane. Thanks for calling me an expert, no one else was gonna do it so I just kind of took up the helm lol.

Here’s the low-down... The timeline of the movie’s production is an absolute mess and kind of an extremely wild ride. It was in production for ten years, went through a lot of different crew members, and went through at least two other major versions of the story before landing on the final version.

Since there’s not a ton of info on the movie’s production, a lot of this is pieced together from different interviews and context clues, and also a lot of what I’ve read and what I am quoting has been translated from Korean, sometimes pretty roughly. But yeah.

Here’s the story of why the Red Shoes and the Seven Dwarfs teasers and poster were so, so bad and fatshame-y and the actual movie was so, so good and body-positive. (With pictures and production artwork!)

(This is a beast of a post so I’m putting it under a cut.)

All right, so. After its conception originally as a short story by the South Korean studio Locus Creative in 2009-2010-ish, Red Shoes and the Seven Dwarfs was being worked on and was set to come out in Summer 2017, as evidenced by this poster at the 2015 Cannes Film Festival, featuring a different logo and very different character designs for most of the dwarfs.

In early-mid 2016, the first teaser (in which we see Snow White undress and then two dwarfs recoil in horror at her fatness when she takes her magic shoes off) was released, after the film had kind of been slowly chugging along for 6 or so years. (I am having such trouble pinpointing when the second teaser was released (in which one of the dwarfs basically attacks Snow while she is sleeping to steal her shoes), but I believe it was around the same time.) The teasers didn’t get that much traction because this was a small film from a small indie studio in South Korea.

None of the final actors had been cast yet. At this point in the production, the story was different, one of the many versions that the movie went through. As in the final movie, the dwarfs were actually cursed knights/princes and Snow White switched back and forth between two body types due to her magic shoes, but in this version, the dwarfs needed to steal the shoes from her in order to break their curse (rather than needing “a kiss from the most beautiful woman in the world” like in the final movie).

The weird thing is, I believe they had JUST changed the movie’s story when the teaser came out. I’m almost positive it was released more as a proof of concept than as an actual trailer for the movie. They had just recently combined two separate characters (seen above), a typical pretty, skinny princess character (Snow White) and a cute chubby girl character (’Bonnie’), into one single character that switches back and forth between the two appearances when she wears the magic shoes (also they had just dropped literally half of the movie taking place in the real world, with a magic mirror portal, it was a whole thing). 

They didn’t have the details of this aspect of the new story hammered out yet, and the first pass at presenting Snow’s magically changing body type, was, yeah, not good and super offensive. This was a really inexperienced indie studio making their first film on a low budget, so even the animation and voice acting wasn’t great. I think they just wanted to get SOMETHING out there because it had been 6 years and they wanted to have something to show for it.

But here’s the thing. Despite how the teasers make it seem, this was always supposed to be a movie about body positivity, letting go of appearance-based prejudices, and loving yourself and others for who you are and for who they are, which we see in the final film.

I like to think of our film as a kindhearted one. Our intentions are nice.

- Director Sung-ho Hong

It’s important to keep in mind that this movie was made in South Korea by a 99% Korean crew, and, as I understand it anyway, in Korean culture, ‘fatshaming’ is not really a thing that is seen as overtly offensive. Also, children’s media there seems to have more adult things in it than in the US, which probably accounts for the more risque parts of the teasers. That said, I really believe that at this point in the timeline, the movie was on-track to be bad (or at least not very good) when it was released, and it would have ended up bad IF a few key players hadn’t signed on (which I’ll get to in a moment).

Interestingly, the movie’s producer, Sujin Hwang, said in a 2017 interview:

“[Both teasers] were solely produced to induce curiosity. They’re completely irrelevant to the actual story.”

- Producer Sujin Hwang

I think what she was trying to convey was that neither one is a scene in the actual movie, because while the teasers didn’t reflect the revamped story as it existed in summer 2017 (the time of the interview), they DID reflect the earlier version of the story where the dwarfs wanted her shoes, which is what the story was at the time they were made.

Now that we’re in post-teaser 2016, HERE’S where things start to turn around. After the teasers were released, my guy Disney veteran and native Korean Jin Kim joined the project. He and Red Shoes director Sung-ho Hong had been buddies for about eight years and Sung-ho had been trying to get Jin to come to Seoul and work with him at Locus for a long time, and he finally succeeded.

Jin and his twenty years of Disney experience as an animator and senior designer on films like Tangled, Frozen, Big Hero 6, Zootopia, and Moana, had a HUGE HUGE HUGE influence on the movie. He redesigned almost all the characters, oversaw all the visual development from the moment he signed on, and heavily (HEAVILY) supervised the animation, literally going frame-by-frame through preliminary animations and drawing over them, teaching the inexperienced animators at Locus everything he knew. (Literally almost everyone except him either only had TV experience or had no professional experience because they just gotten out of school.)

From an outsider’s perspective, it really seems as though Jin joining the project (and his gargantuan effort) made the quality SKYROCKET. Not just in character design and animation, but also in things like effects animation, story, etc. After he joined, Locus really started pushing HARD to make a good, high-quality movie, and his influence and experience from being a prominent figure at Disney was absolutely key. The studio also began to really study Disney films and other well-made animated films from other studios to really try and pinpoint what the DNA of a good animated movie really is.

I don’t have any solid evidence, but I’m pretty sure that Tony Bancroft (an animator and the co-director of Mulan) then joined the project because he’s good friends with Jin Kim. He is only credited as the voice director (the movie was recorded in English and the characters were animated to the English dialogue), but I am SURE that he probably also had a pretty big influence on the movie, because like... How could he not? I really really think there was more to his role than his title would have you believe, even though there’s almost no info out there about it.

So now the movie goes through a gigantic metamorphosis. Character designs, visual development, and animation quality are all rapidly improving, the story is tightening, and the themes of the movie (which, again, were always the same and intended to be positive) are being presented in a more sincere way. The movie is becoming the sweet, self-love-encouraging and body-positive movie that was eventually released.

I’m putting a gif from the credits of the final movie here. As we move into 2017, when the giant eruption of backlash occurred, please keep in mind that the story was finalized at this point and that THIS was the movie people were so mad about:

Chloe Grace Moretz accepted the role of Snow White immediately after she read the script and she recorded her lines (I think) in early-ish 2017. Her co-star Sam Claflin also immediately accepted the role of the romantic interest, Merlin, after reading the script and recorded his lines in (I believe) July 2017.

In the summer of 2017, the story and script were more or less the same as in the final movie. Promotional images from that time show that most of dwarfs had been completely redesigned by this point and didn’t have their teaser designs anymore.

They also released a few screenshots that look exactly like the final film. The movie was advertised as coming out in ‘2018′ at this point. Here’s a promo image from 2017 that is MUCH more tactfully worded than the infamous Cannes poster:

So now we’re in summer 2017. The Cannes Film Festival. The movie’s script and story have been basically nailed down, animation is underway, and the Korean film company Finecut is beginning to market and sell the movie to worldwide audiences. They are planning on showing some footage to potential buyers at the festival, and they make a poster to advertise the film there.

Unfortunately, it’s THIS POSTER:

Now here’s where there are some unknowns. By this point, the movie is basically in its final form, which is an adorable, body-positive story about loving people for who they are, loving yourself for who YOU are, and that provides commentary on society’s standards of beauty and how they affect how people are treated/viewed. So why this poster??? All I can really tell is that someone (I think Finecut) really, REALLY messed up and either horribly mistranslated the tagline, or didn’t do enough research to know that this kind of thing is REALLY NOT OKAY in western culture.

The above picture is shared and the internet backlash begins, fueled by tweets from prominent body-positivity activists like Tess Holliday. Even Chloe Grace Moretz speaks out against it, because she of all people KNOWS that that’s not what the movie is about. The internet then finds the old teasers from before the movie was revamped and it makes things worse. Producer Sujin Hwang profusely apologizes and says that that is NOT the message of the movie. Locus pulls the advertising campaign, and takes down the two old teasers.

“Our film, a family comedy, carries a message designed to challenge social prejudices related to standards of physical beauty in society by emphasizing the importance of inner beauty.”

- Producer Sujin Hwang

Voice director Tony Bancroft also tried to explain the situation:

“The truth is the film has a body-positive message as its core theme–it’s the opposite of what reports are saying. The problem is one poorly translated movie poster that has been taken dramatically out of context.” 

- Voice Director Tony Bancroft

And then... There was nothing for a while. The movie didn’t come out in 2018 and was delayed. From what I can tell, I DON’T believe this delay was related to the Cannes backlash. I think it was mostly due to Locus’s limited budget and resources, because as we know, animation is difficult, time-consuming, expensive, and easy to do badly but hard to do well. Also, probably with Jin Kim and Tony Bancroft’s influence, they REALLY wanted to make sure to do a good job with the animation because they now had a great story and they really wanted the movie to be a quality, worldwide hit that would kind of put South Korean feature animation on the map. Just take a look at how nice the final animation was:

The movie was released in South Korea on July 25th, 2019. Unfortunately, the damage was done in the English-speaking markets and it was not released to an English-speaking audience until June 22, 2020, when it was released digitally in the UK. At the time of this post, there is no set US release date, but the distribution rights were recently bought by Lionsgate and the MPAA gave the film an official PG rating.

So who’s to blame? There’s no good answer. You could blame Locus for making those old teasers. You could blame Finecut for the competely tonedeaf Cannes poster. You could even blame cancel culture for raging against the movie based on one poster and two old teaser trailers without researching what the movie was actually about.

All I know is, it’s a damn shame.

[obsidiancreates]

Oh jeez, sure!

I forget the year... but I believe I was like, 11 years old, about. Freshly 11, as this was during a Christmas trip and my birthday is December 3rd.

We went to Lake Tahoe to visit our extended family. It was my and my brother's first time ever seeing snow, as we live in one of the warmer states. I remember distinctly that we had no tissues on the plane, so I wiped my nose on the knee of my jeans while my allergies acted up, and when we got out of the plane the snot froze and my jeans made crackling noises while we walked.

All this to say, we immediately got very sick. Throwing up, aches, fever, the whole shebang, and we passed it to everyone. We had like... let me think... it was my aunt and uncle, like 3 cousins, both grandparents, and a few days with our great-grandma. Plus me, my brother, and my mom. And two large dogs and a Chihuahua. All in one single-story 2 bedroom house and a like... garage-type thing used as a guest room. Fuckin' packed.

So yeah. We got sick, everyone got sick. Lots of throwing up.

Well, we're there for a couple weeks, I think, since it went into New Years. I forget if it started before or just after Christmas, but I got sick again. Throwing up, fever, the same thing as before.

Except.

Much worse.

It got to the point where I literally has to drag myself around on the floor like a zombie and carry a cardboard box lined with a trash bag everywhere I went. I couldn't keep anything down, even little sips of water. I don't remember a lot of it, honestly, because. Dying. I do remember the large girl sleeping at my side a lot an being really sweet.

Anyway, eventually we came to a night where they drove me to the nearby hospital because I was clearly very, very unwell. All my baby fat? Gone. My skin? Paler than we thought it could get. My energy? Nonexistant.

We get to the hospital. I don't remember much from there either, I kept passing out. I remember getting stuck in both wrists and both elbows with the IV needle because they couldn't find a non-deflated vein to get it in. And then the IV (it was just for fluids at the time I think, this was pre-tests and scans) made me vomit on myself, just because of the water going in.

I remember having one of those moments like a TV show, where I was being rolled through hallways on a gurney and looking up as the white hospital ceiling and lights flashed over me.

They did an X-Ray, Ultrasound, and cat-scan. Apparently during the Ultrasound they asked my mom, "Has she ever had any damage to her liver?"

Again, was mostly passed out or just unable to take in info during this time. The next thing I personally remember after the ceiling was being told to drink this awful stuff, tasted like pure Bitterness with a hint of stomach bile. And then I passed out again.

And when I woke up I'd had major surgery!

Apparently, my appendix was not only ruptured, but twisted up and jabbing into my liver. Infected, ruptured, and jabbing into another much more important internal organ! And the pain of it all?

Nonexistent. I couldn't register it at all, because I was so sick I just couldn't feel my own body pain. I had no idea there was even a pain in side, because I was distracted by literally not being able to hold even a sip of water. I was throwing up pure stomach acid half the time because I had nothing in me, but my body was still trying to get something out. Just completely overshadowed the pain of an infected and ruptured organ jamming itself into another one.

So they had to do 3 little incisions and go in with a laser and cut my appendix up into little pieces and pull it out. One of them was in my belly button, and now my belly button is smaller than it used to be, and I have a Scar within my Scar.

But the surgery went well! I bled a lot less than they thought, healed really well. I couldn't have solid foods for a while so mainly lived on applejuice. But my hospital room was by a helipad so I got to watch that take off and land a few times, which at the time was cool because I'd never seen that before. My poor mom was a wreak, because my dad had to stay home while we did our trip so he wasn't there for the whole thing.

On top of all of that, I also had Strep Throat at the exact same time.

I did get 2 teddy bears though, and after it all I went on a hike and went ice skating and sledding. It was very difficult and it hurt, because my limbs were like, atrophied from the sickness. But I did it! And I was very proud of myself!

And that's the time I almost died when I was 11.

[iinksplit]

my sleep schedule watching me consider waking up at 7am for opening... this is queued tho 😭 hihi i’m melo (21+, s/h), writer of hot girl trash raccoon lee yuram & her functional symbie known as yubi! she’s currently a low ranking journalist at the herald & has lived all her life in eden while dreaming of taking over the world ( yubi tells her to pass her exams first, loser 😔 ) all her info is scattered around the blog ( stats, bio, power ) & i have no plots so here’s an attempt at putting everything together under the cut 😬 hit the ♡ or drop an im if you’d wanna plot, i also have discord if that’s easier!! 💖

TLDR

eden born & raised! her parents were both metas who decided quickly that they wanted to settle down, get registered, & live a good safe life. her dad talks to animals & her mum has some healing powers

think about the most law abiding, nice, polite, incredibly normal two people who could ever exist. that’s yuram’s parents. that’s also how you get an absolutely unhinged child

yuram’s a terror before she gets yubi, the sort to get into playground brawls & play dumb pranks. that annoying kid who likes to ask but why tho when she’s told no. extremely bored of being a goody two shoes like her parents so she turns around & is no shoes gremlin

anyway she’s born with a funky looking birthmark that turns into symbiotic ink when some kid breaks their pen & splatters her with ink, around age ten-ish. enter: yubi!

( basically venom but ) reverse symbiote trope! yuram wants WORLD DOMINATION & yubi just wants to pass their tests & maybe get a steady income

so ( v sadly ) yubi doesn’t help with any of the taking over the world stuff. they do help with exams & chores though 🙏🏻

yuram ends up in university thanks to her symbie, as a journalism major bc she’s a nosy little shit & thinks she knows what the news should be reporting

fresh grad, just got herself hired by the herald but doesn’t get to cover the mayor chae story :( but she might be poking around on the downlow......

other symbie facts! yubi’s personality fluctuates depending on what kind of ink yuram uses to build them up, but they’ve got a solid lawful good base. they aren’t always awake; if there’s too little ink on yuram, the symbiote just hibernates/goes dormant. they communicate telepathically but yubi can either borrow yuram’s mouth or pass notes to other people to talk to them. their big venom form is a huge mass of inkperson, pitch black; kinda scary but they only use that form for sneaking around, non-combative even though yuram wishes they were. ( but someday... 😉 )

chara insp! venom & eddie brock ( venom ), jang hari ( mad dog ), ji seungwan ( 2521 )

personality / misc! gemini sun, sagittarius moon, aries rising, a powerhouse clown. loves being argumentative & is always ready to go. probably willing to go to bat for you even if she’s only known you for 10sec bc she’s nice looking for a fight like that. can’t cook or clean but would d*e before admitting it or the many other things she sucks at. her common sense only exists in yubi, really really rebellious for fun & impulsive because she’s not patient enough & just wants instant gratification. in my head her bgm is any mgk x blackbear collab bc she’s got loser punk rock vibes. disaster really

PLOTS

petty crimes crew: exactly what this sounds like! just a ragtag buncha dummies spraying graffiti & pickpocketing, have been saying they’ll commit a heist since high school but still have no idea how to. lame gang things!!

free printer services: if you need help printing something or, ahem, ‘editing’ a document wink wink... she’s here to help

herald coworkers: yuram’s notorious for being a bit too headstrong & willing to investigate excessively for a story, asking way too many questions & only trusting herself. writes articles freakishly fast once she’s done tho. maybe a mentor or someone who has to keep her in check? fellow new hire jostling for a promotion?

snu friends: anyone from journalism, or their school’s broadcasting & journalism club? maybe someone who saw her ( yubi ) sign up for a million clubs but she never turned up too

bulleog apartments: neighbour plots!! yuram’s a petty little shit of a neighbour & somehow always up to something strange

commitment issues tm: yuram’s string of flings, past & current, or the (1) serious relationship she screwed up? ( also lowkey would love an enemies to friends / lovers / worse enemies but now we care for each other gdi plot )

thats all the ideas i have in my head but we can brainstorm instead!!

[undeadvinyls]

omg i love your pvz ocs sm... picking them up and shaking real hard rn... do u have any sort of masterpost where i could read up on them?? im looking intensely

HEYO I- EBUEEBUBUEBUEBUE *dies*

this makes me so so happy since just like a month ago my love for pvz returned pretty hard like......... omg omg i'm so so happy to hear ppl liking my fellas. and!! might seem really unprofessional but i don't have a master post for them, i just share stuff about them as i please! but!! think i can spare sum info here!! + links to their designs!

Game Bug (genderqueer, he/they/xe) - Hero version of Arcade Zombie, mixed a bit with Computer Scientist! He's professional in kicking plants' butts and gaming. One of the smarter zombies here, his superpowers include technological advancements, force field creation, teleportation, creation of sizzles/electricity (but not the same as Boogaloo), xe can also corrupt codes and hack into anything! their civilian alter-ego/true ID is Harris Ricci, he's of italian descent and a dedicated librarian in his free time. He LOVES sci-fi/fantasy books, video games and quantum physics. He's your typical introverted nerd but when you give xem time, xe'll grow on you.

High Tide (trans man, he/him) - Hero version of Surfer Zombie! a very sporty zombie with a love for water sports, especially surfing and high diving, a true beach boy. fights in flip-flops because he doesn't tolerate any other shoes. his powers include hydrokinesis and a bit of control over the air (since it contains H20 but he can mostly bend the sea breeze). his hydro powers are special though, he can bend any liquid, change the state of it (into either solid, liquid or gas state) and some more tricks he knows. He works as a part-time firefighter and lifeguard, but there he's known as your sweet Oliver Chandler. He's a himbo and a ray of sunshine that's it. he's lucky though! Neptuna and him are dating!

Dazzling Starr (demigirl, she/her) - The star of the show! A well-known glam musician who also happens to be a zombie hero. She's a multi-instrumentalist and can even play on weirdest instruments out there, but she mainly uses her beloved guitar to deliver some killer solos. Her powers include manipulation and generation of sounds. pretty much vanquishes plants with guitar riffs. she can also hypnotize them! yes! hypnotizing music! She can pretty much bend mf physics and cause a mini earthquake when she stomps her foot. a buff girl do not mess with her or else she'll squeak you like a toy. her hero name was originally just her stage name, but now she's a beloved hero! her civilian ID is Deborah, or Debbie, she has some spanish roots. and! she's married to Electric Boogaloo (who's a #1 husband and can't stop talking about how much he loves his wife) and has a teenage daughter!

Millisecond (cis male, he/him) - Interstellar Bounty Hunter and an Assassin, works on the space zombie black market (yes i know how this sounds like) offering assassination services. He has amazing aim, but his superpower is super-speed! He can run around 10,000km in a minute (forgive my european ass i dunno how to use miles) and not be seen, as he really can run up fast. knows every corner of space, and is wanted in like 40 galaxies. Dr. Zomboss hired him to get rid of the plant heroes, but instead he got adopted by the zombie heroes that are now his found family. His name is in fact Alasdair Diamantis (but gets called Atlas), as he has greek roots. He and Rustbolt are dating! they're boyfriends and very in love.

Beatrice "Betty" (cis female, she/her) - Dazzling Starr and Electric Boogaloo's teenage, 16 year old daughter, embodiment of 2000s emo/scene mixed with rock 'n' roll and disco. yes. She's one hell of an edgy teenager, she's a part of the team as she works as some sort of sidekick/beloved niece of the zombie heroes. she has superpowers, it was passed to her genetically! she has electricity + sound manipulation mixed, but she doesn't want to be a hero in future, she wishes to be a drummer and she's actually amazing at playing on the drums! she has a part-time job though, thank to Rustbolt, she babysits the Imps at Z-Tech factory. Says she's only nice to them because they pay her for babysitting them, but she has a soft spot for those little buggers. also a hardcore mlp fan

i'm working on a lotta more, but i'm so so happy you think so about my fellas like that. that truly made me so happy <33

[damianosismyking]

Roommate

READ IT ON AO3.

Damen and Laurent first met when Laurent was sixteen years old.

He arrived at Damen's apartment too late for it to be considered appropriate or polite on any day, but the fact it was Sunday made everything worse.

Damen had been announcing his vacant room for the best part of the past three months since Nikandros moved out to live with his girlfriend but the response he’s gotten so far was underwhelming, to say the least. It made sense to him: his apartment was too far away from the university for it to be comfortable or spark real interest among tired, overloaded, low-income students with huge debts and likely no car. He had thought, though, that it would spark some interest. It was a constant theme in the conversations he had with Nikandros these days – which always ended up with Nikandros telling him he should just learn how to live with himself anyway, and Damen telling him there was no way he’d do it.

Still, Damen was less than thrilled to be surprised after a long day of sitting in front of thousands of books and twice as many academic papers gathering the ‘solid foundation’ his thesis lacked – in Professor Haemon’s words – by an unsolicited visitor. Damen’s eyes burned, his head pounded, and he longed for nothing more than to open a beer and mindlessly watch the documentary about whales that was on. A call to his intercom had different plans.

It felt like his brain had melted down his ears for when the doorman informed him that his friend, Laurent, whom he never met, had come to talk to him about his rental room, Damen allowed said guy up without a thought to the risks it entailed until after the call was cut.

Damen was left to hope there wasn’t a gun involved and whoever the man was, Damen could take him on a hand-to-hand fight if it came to it.

A kid showed up. Pink across the face, the only uncovered part of him. A few strands of blond hair escaped his beany, moving along the puff of his breath. He strutted inside uninvited the second Damen saw to the door, with the highest nose Damen has ever seen and scorn that did not match his angelic features.

Lazily, the kid – Laurent, his name – said, “I saw you need a new roommate.”

“And you are?”

“Your new roommate.”

“I meant –” Laurent went ahead and took off his coat, as well as his beany, that he tossed over Damen’s diner table. His blond hair shoulder-length and seemingly soft directly under the light, framed his face in waves. It gave him an almost feminine quality, if not for the sharpness of his cheekbones and jaw. “I meant have we met before?”

“No. But we have now. I’m Laurent.” He held out his hand. Damen shook it. “And you are Damianos. I go to U.M., you go to U.M. You have a room to rent, I have interest in renting a room. See? We are practically best friends already.”

He sported a young prince demeanor with long, pale fingers laced in front of his body. It was fitting, like the thought of such person being raised in a castle surrounded by luxury and used to having his way his whole life simply made sense. As for his expression: there was none. Laurent’s eyes were a rich blue but carried no warmth in them, unyielding. His gaze never averted Damen’s. It felt like staring at a blank wall.

Damen crossed his arms over his chest, unsure what to do with his hands and everything that currently unfolded in front of him. The carelessness in Laurent’s composure, or maybe the sheer audacity of him, rubbed Damen the wrong way. Under the incisive glare, Damen resisted a shiver.

Damen said, “You notice it’s almost 11 P.M. on a Sunday, don’t you, best friend?”

Laurent leaned against the dining table as though it belonged to him. Would it be acceptable to bodily drag Laurent out of the apartment after being the one to give him the pass to come up in the first place? Laurent appeared painfully young too, so that might be aggravating.

“You put on your flyer you were open to visitation anytime,” Laurent retorted. It started to bother Damen how rarely he blinked. Blank wall.

“I also put on my flyer my contact info to prevent strangers from appearing unannounced at my doorstep,” Damen paused. “On a Sunday. At night.”

“And yet here I am. Your security is horrible by the way, you should probably complain about that to the apartment manager,” Laurent drawled. That alone disqualified him to the vacancy, let aside the fact he passed for a spoiled high schooler with no hint of courtesy.

“So? Aren’t you going to interview me? I make a terrific roommate. I know how to cook and keep a house clean; I stay out of everyone’s business and in change expect everyone out of mine. I’m the most pleasant company you can get around that campus, I guarantee.”

Laurent waited and as he did so, he grabbed one of the decorative glass balls from a bowl on the table and rolled it between his hands mindlessly. When Damen gave no response, he continued, “I’m a bit of a genius, so that might interest you in case you need help with schoolwork or anything else.”

Damen stared at him. It was impossible the kid wouldn’t take the hint. All he had to do was look around, at the scattered materials, Damen’s sleeping clothes, the beer sweating the couch’s fabric, the clock marking 11 p.m. Laurent made a show of standing spitefully where he wasn’t welcomed and it either didn’t bother him or he purposefully ignored it.

“I’m also a good fuck. In case that might interest you.”

It startled Damen out of his enraged disbelief. Not that he magically came up with something to say. “I’m – I – don’t… You’re missing the point.”

“And what is that?”

“I have no idea who the fuck you are, and honestly, you’re not causing a great impression so far.”

“That comes with time.” Laurent waved him off. He wandered around the living room, accessing the quality of his surroundings. Ran a hand over Damen’s TV stand, grabbed portraits to analyze from up close, shuffled through a stack of magazines, opened the window to take a look at the view, and finally settled on the couch where he bounced, testing. Grabbed the remote, shifted through channels. Damen let it unfold only partially out of astonishment – part of him also wondered how far Laurent would go.

“It’s your turn,” Laurent said eerily, like haunted wind coming through the window.

“My turn to what?”

“Introduce yourself, of course. How am I supposed to know you’re not a pervert?” he added, plainly. “Already have enough of those in my life.”

Damen was baffled. It took him a second to find his voice. “I am going to have to ask you to leave.”

Laurent turned to him, pale brows arched. “But you didn’t interview me yet.”

“I don’t intend to. Please leave. Now.” Damen marched to the door to hold it open.

“But –” Laurent stood. Damen could almost see the engines in his mind turning. “Look. I can offer you a blowjob to change your mind. Anything more than that only if you promise I can stay.”

“What are – I do not want to have sex with you,” Damen said, exasperated. Why was this happening to him? Was this what he got after working so hard?

“Why not?” Laurent spoke as if something was out of sorts. “Let me guess, you are straight. I promise you won’t note the difference, it’s like any girl’s mouth when it’s on your cock. I’m highly skilled.”

Damen opened the door wider and gestured. “Out.”

Laurent crossed his arms and made no motion to leave. Very deliberately he leaned against the armrest. “I don’t have a gag reflex, I can take you all the way in,” he spoke with an empty face, “and I swallow, don’t spit.” At the end, he smirked mildly.

Damen flinched. “I will call security.”

“No? Okay.” Laurent leaned on his hands, propping his shoulders up. “Money’s no issue. I can offer you two months of rent in advance.”

“I need you to get the hell out before I make you,” Damen spelled out.

“Fine. Three. But this is my final offer, you have to give me something to work with here.” For how playful Laurent’s words rang, he maintained his monotone. His face couldn’t be more uninterested, without the slightest semblant of shyness.

Damen didn’t respond. Again, he gestured the outside.

Laurent sighed, as if it was Damen tiring him, not the other way around. Perhaps the biggest absurd among all others. Damen might be virtually opposed to hitting kids, but Laurent just might be the exception.

Laurent did not pick up any of his belongings, as required. Rather, he walked to Damen confidently, if slightly bored. The sway of his hips seemed very deliberate as he tied his hair on a ponytail, eyes never dropping Damen’s. His eyes carried deeper richness to the blue of his irises from this close, but somehow were even colder. He stopped few inches away from Damen. If they were the same height, their noses would bump, but as Damen had at least one foot of advantage to him, Laurent’s breath tickled his collar bone.

And then suddenly, unexpectedly, Laurent dropped to his knees, reaching for the ties on Damen’s sweatpants.

“What the fuck.” Damen slapped Laurent’s hands away. Laurent swayed taken aback and retreated, confused. “Stand up,” Damen demanded, “Stand!” at the verge of yelling.

Damen’s stomach had sunk to his feet. Other than the cameras in the corridor, there were no witnesses to what happened. Laurent remained where he was, sitting back on his heels and giving Damen huge icy eyes, through obscenely long lashes as blond as his hair, blooming cheeks, and beautifully plump pink lips. “Please, get up and leave. I won’t ask again.”

Laurent felt the wall behind him to help himself up. “I want to stay.” His voice was no longer a drawl then. It had a hint of raw desperation that had not been there before.

Damen shook his head. “That’s too bad kid.”

“I’m not a kid,” he barked, words lacking the previous indifference. “Let me stay.”

“No.”

“Please.”

A beat passed. A long ‘hear-the-ticks-on-the-clock-slow-down’ kind of beat. Laurent’s stance remained mighty and unshakable, searching Damen’s face.

“How old are you?” Damen asked and again when Laurent refused to respond.

As Damen pressed further, he finally said, through gritted teeth, “Sixteen.” In spite of the aversion for the word, Laurent expression was challenging, daring Damen to say anything about it.

Damen did. “Sixteen. You can’t just get to a stranger’s house, impose on them, and expect to be welcomed,” he said, “that’s not how these things work. Kid.”

Laurent went paler a shade, previously rosy cheeks suddenly drawn out of color. His feet kicked the carpet, and his sole focus was on that. “Do you understand? You can’t walk into strangers’ houses, period. And if you wanted a real shot at getting the room you should have called me and scheduled a date to come and talk to me at a normal hour on a normal day like everyone else. And probably have your parents to call me too, considering. Now, please get out of my apartment.”

It took him a minute, but Laurent finally listened to reason and gathered his stuff. On his way out, though, as Damen already breathed relieved that this unnerving event was over (and began to formulate in mind the text he was going to send Nikandros), Laurent stopped again, white as a sheet, barely a foot away from the door Damen had been holding open for too long.

“Let me stay.”

Neither Laurent’s voice nor his posture were anything of what they had been. It was like watching him come undone. His shoulders tensed and his feet were dragging rather than pacing. “I have the money. You won’t even know I’m here. Please.” Damen shook his head sluggishly. Laurent looked out the door and then slowly cast his eyes back to Damen. “Tonight then. I can pay you for the stay and I’ll be gone in the morning before you know it.”

Damen’s resolve faltered, then cracked, then crumbled. It finally occurred to him, “Why did you come here?”

Laurent frowned. “Your flyer…”

“No.” Laurent knew what Damen really asked.

Laurent bit his bottom lip for a long time, then straightened up. “I have nowhere else to go.” His face, though he attempted to remain composed, betrayed him. His bottom lip trembled discreetly.

“You were kicked out?” No response. Damen ran a hand over his face. His grip on the door slacked. “Damn you. Don’t you have… friends? Any family you can run to? Come to a stranger’s apartment… do you have any idea what could happen to you? You’re sixteen.” Laurent stared at him, silent. For a moment, he seemed about to speak but words died on his lips. “How do I know you aren't here to rob me? Or jump me when I’m asleep? Are your cronies waiting for you sign downstairs?”

Laurent said nothing. He balled his fists and waited as if he knew that Damen already changed his mind. It was not like Damen could do anything else anyway. It’s not like he would be able to cast out a homeless kid. Even a kid like Laurent.

Damen scratched his head and slammed the door behind him, eyes closed with a long, heavy sigh. He cursed under his breath. “Just tonight,” Damen said, though he knew he was lying. “You will have to find someplace else tomorrow.”

“Right. Thank you,” Laurent said.

They stared at each other for a moment. Damen, awkward with arms crossed over his chest and Laurent twirling his beany in his hands. “Are you hungry?”

“Not really.”

“Well then. The bathroom is at the end of the corridor, there are clean towels in the cabinet, and other stuff you might need.” Another awkward moment passed. “Let me show you to your room. The room. Not your room. Where you’ll stay tonight.”

Again, in a low voice, Laurent thanked him.

[theputterer]

Good Things In 2021

“It’s that time of year again! Time to remember all the good things that happened in 2021. I’ve done this since 2017, and highly recommend doing this as a fun way to reflect (and to have something for future reference when you are feeling Down.)

y’all. we did it.

I don’t really know how to talk about this year. in many ways it was better than 2020, but in many other ways it was not. This month has been very difficult for my family and me. (If you are curious you can read about what happened here).

But this is about looking at the good things that happened this year.

PERSONAL

I finally received my Irish passport!!! This was the last step of my journey in receiving Irish citizenship and was very exciting. 

I’ve been applying to jobs in Dublin and seen some success. I did receive a job offer I ended up turning down for several reasons, including the pay, what happened earlier this month with my family, and the timeline.

I have an interview for a different job next week I am interested in, so we’ll see how that goes!

I updated my resumé for the first time in three years, that deserves notice.

I returned to the ROGUE ONE life (BRIEFLY) and wrote a new fic called death trembles to take us, a ROGUE ONE-THE OLD GUARD fusion/AU.

a new friend on this here app, @riflegoespurr made a moodboard for it!

and special thanks to @kestrelsward for the early enthusiasm!

I am reasonably pleased with how the fic turned out.

I got a new idea for a secret original writing project that I began some tentative work on. It will remain secret for now.

I had some solid success at work, achieving a few goals I had set and improving systems for the organization. Much of this info will remain REDACTED for privacy purposes but if we are Insta friends you know. (Side note but message me if you wanna be insta friends).

I visited a city in Idaho for Work Purposes and it was nuts. They don’t believe in COVID. scenes.

In May, I went to the ocean on a small solo trip and it was very nice.

I got a couple new tattoos there! Color tattoos of lavender and hydrangea to go on my arm.

A friend of mine got married in July and I got to see it AND act as casual bartender which is hilarious because I rarely drink.

I got jabbed and boosted. Please do this when you can.

Anything bolded below is something I particularly enjoyed and recommend. 

MOVIES

2021 movies I saw and liked:

HOUSE OF GUCCI

I fucking loved this. it’s a riot. Ridley Scott can do whatever he wants forever.

BEING THE RICARDOS

BLACK WIDOW

PASSING

THE HARDER THEY FALL

DUNE

SHANG-CHI AND THE LEGEND OF THE TEN RINGS

FOUR SEASONS TOTAL DOCUMENTARY

LAST NIGHT IN SOHO

MALIGNANT

10/10 NO NOTES

REMINISCENCE

NO TIME TO DIE

“I miss you” RIP ME

GODZILLA VS. KONG

SPIDER-MAN: NO WAY HOME

2020 movies I saw for the first time:

TENET

SHIRLEY

WONDER WOMAN 1984

EMMA.

TV

WANDAVISION

similarly, Leland Philpot on Twitter: “Agatha All Along Trap/Hip Hop Remix”

WESTWORLD

THE WHITE LOTUS

THE OTHER TWO

I’ve started EUPHORIA but I’m not far enough in to render judgment.

Season 15 of IT’S ALWAYS SUNNY IN PHILADELPHIA

BOOKS

I read 64 books this year. Below are the ones I liked and/or had thoughts on:

“The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue” by V.E. Schwab

“The City We Became” by N.K. Jemisin

“Thirty-Two Words for Field: Lost Words of the Irish Landscape” by Manchán Magan

“Dearly” by Margaret Atwood

“Red Comet: The Short Life and Blazing Art of Sylvia Plath” by Heather Clark

This book is well over 1000 pages but it is brilliantly written and researched

“The Secret Place” by Tana French

“The End of Everything” by Katie Mack

“The Ten Thousand Doors of January” by Alix E. Harrow

“The Trespasser” by Tana French

“The Bluest Eye” by Toni Morrison

“Black Sun” by Rebecca Roanhorse

“Trick Mirror: Reflections on Self-Delusion” by Jia Tolentino

“The Witch Elm” by Tana French

“W-3″ by Bette Howland

“Girl A” by Abigail Dean

“The Witches Are Coming” by Lindy West

“How Long ‘Till Black Future Month?” by N.K. Jemisin

“Parable of the Sower” by Octavia Butler

“Republic of Shame: Stories from Ireland’s Institutions for ‘Fallen Women’“ by Caelainn Hogan

“The Killing Moon” by N.K. Jemisin

“Sin Eater” by Megan Campisi

“Empire of Pain: The Secret History of the Sackler Dynasty” by Patrick Radden Keefe

RAGE RAGE RAGE

“Furious Hours: Murder, Fraud, and the Last Trial of Harper Lee” by Casey Cep

“Mister Impossible” by Maggie Stiefvater

“His & Hers” by Alice Feeney

“Mirrorland” by Carole Johnstone

“The Midnight Library” by Matt Haig

“Tender Is The Flesh” by Agustina Bazterrica

This book is DEEPLY fucked up but wow.

“A Ghost In The Throat” by Doireann Ní Ghríofa

“The Vanishing Half” by Brit Bennett

“Caul Baby” by Morgan Jerkins

“The Only Good Indians” by Stephen Graham Jones

“Hidden Valley Road: Inside the Mind of an American Family” by Robert Kolker

“Persephone Station” by Stina Leicht

“Folklorn” by Angela Mi Young Hur

EASILY one of my favorites of all time!!!

“The Angel of History” by Carolyn Forché

“The Maidens” by Alex Michaelides

I HATED this book. it’s so bad. it is on here because I have to say that.

“Sorrowland” by Rivers Solomon

“Hummingbird Salamander” by Jeff VanderMeer

“When The Sparrow Falls” by Neil Sharpson

this book rules

“2034: A Novel of the Next World War” by Elliot Ackerman

“The Living Sea of Waking Dreams” by Richard Flanagan

“What Comes After” by JoAnne Tompkins

“The Shadowed Sun” by N.K. Jemisin

With this book, I have officially read every novel or short story in N.K. Jemisin’s published bibliography

“The Last Mona Lisa” by Jonathan Santlofer

“Something New Under the Sun” by Alexandra Kleeman

my very rare Did Not Finish. if you did please talk to me.

“The Doctors Blackwell: How Two Pioneering Sisters Brought Medicine to Women and Women to Medicine” by Janice Nimura

THE BONE SEASON by Samantha Shannon

“The Bone Season”

“The Pale Dreamer”

“The Mime Order”

“The Song Rising”

“The Mask Falling”

LITERALLY WHERE HAVE THESE BOOKS BEEN ALL MY LIFE!!!!! PLEASE READ THEM AND COME TALK TO ME

“Pro: Reclaiming Abortion Rights” by Katha Pollitt

“Shadow and Bone” by Leigh Bardugo

“Constance” by Matthew FitzSimmons

“Goldilocks” by Laura Lam

“Sabriel” by Garth Nix

“The Fourth Island” by Sarah Tolmie

“Klara and the Sun” by Kazuo Ishiguro

“Slaughter-House Five” by Ryan North (graphic novel adaptation!)

“My Heart Is A Chainsaw” by Stephen Graham Jones

MUSIC

Halsey, If I Can’t Have Love, I Want Power

Lorde, Solar Power

Olivia Rodrigo, Sour

Lady Gaga and Tony Bennett, Love For Sale

ABBA, Voyage

OTHER GOOD THINGS

Walter Chaw, for Film Freak Central, a review of “No Time To Die” that I found very moving

Joc Pedersen and Harry Styles: Bad Bitches

Steve Buscemi Won Halloween

Bret Stetka for NPR: “How Playing Tetris Tames the Trauma of a Car Crash” 

brains are so fucking weird yo

The Orioles coming in clutch for the Mariners

Dan Odess for The New York Times: “Ancient Human Footprints Push Back Date of Human Arrival In the Americas”

This video of Oscar Isaac and Jessica Chastain

The saga of the fake high school that played a real game on ESPN

This thread from a man describing what it is like to be in the modern dating game to a new divorcé

I was on the FLOOR

Reeves Wiedeman and Lila Shapiro for New York Magazine: “The Spine Collector”, about a mysterious figure asking for copies of unpublished manuscripts FOR NO APPARENT REASON.

Trea Turner’s magnificent slide home.

Jennifer Senior for The Atlantic: “What 9/11 Did to One Family”. a really devastating, beautiful piece on complicated grief.

Anna Russell, for The New Yorker: “The Beguiling Legacy of ‘Alice in Wonderland’”

Shohei Ohtani’s massive homer. i have never before seen a ball hit the fourth level that far out at Safeco Field.

Dorian Rolston for The New Yorker: “The Trip That Doesn’t End”

Casey Cep for The New Yorker: “Noticing the Mothers of the Old Testament”

Margaret Talbott, for The New Yorker: “The Women Who Want to Be Priests”.

as someone who was raised Catholic and identifies as feminist, this piece was very interesting and illuminating!

Franz Lidz for The New York Times: “She Fell Nearly Two Miles and Walked Away”

This tweet from Mark Harris that still makes me cackle

Ayesha A. Siddiqi, “Sorry for your loss”

Angelica Jade Bastién’s “The Feminine Grotesque” genre list of LetterBoxd. one day I will see them all.

This bonkers play by Javy Báez.

Grown Man Drinks Kool-Aid.

Nora McGreevy for Smithsonian Magazine: “Graves of Enslaved People Discovered on Founding Father’s Delaware Plantation”. (the founding father is John Dickinson).

This guy’s experience getting the vaccine that made me LOLLLL

Simon Levien for The Harvard Crimson: “The Crimson Klan”. Harvard reckoning with its white supremacist ties.

Patrick Freyne, for The Irish Times, eviscerating the British Monarchy via Harry and Meghan’s interview with Oprah

Philippe Sands, for The New Yorker: “Reckoning With a Nazi Father”. the denial and hard legacy for a family with Nazi relatives.

John Matthias, for The New Yorker: “Living With a Visionary”. 

“When I ask her if she is awake, she says she does not know.”

Katie Dowd, for SFGATE: “The story of ‘Drake’s plate’, the biggest hoax in California history”. a romp.

Jen Chaney for Vulture: “No, They Weren’t Dead the Whole Time.” an oral history of the LOST finale that I kind of think was written FOR ME

Kaylyn Hlavaty for Cleveland News 5: “Her ancestors forgotten, a mantel from a slaveholder’s home bears witness to their lives”. a really devastating reminder of how hard it is for Black people to find their ancestors.

et voila. Happy New Year. let’s be kind to each other.

(Raymond Chandler)

go forth and share your good news and be sure to tag me!

c.c. @leaiorganas @fortysevenswrites @magalis @callioope @cassianserso @i-am-slain @riflegoespurr @alecjmarsh @alittlemomentum @earnestfeeling @jaylie12 @thenewyorkreload @moprocrastinates @andorjyny @the-dala​ @sleeplessant​ and anyone else who wants to share!!!

[limitlessgojo]

Blood Bound: Red Strings of Fate (Ch 5)

Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Descriptions of Blood

Previous Chapter: Cherry Blossom Storm

Next Chapter: Speed of Sound

Tags: Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader

Taglist: @lessie-oxj, @rizzo-nero, @whoreuc, @fkngkumiko, @isl3t

Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, please mention it in the comments below ty <3

Chapter 5: Special Grade

After you bid goodbye to the two girls, you went off back to your dorm room to get dinner, when you bumped into the girl who lived next to your room.

“Oh hi!” She greeted you with a big smile. “I’m Miwa Kasumi, you can call me Miwa. 1st year here! Please take care of me.”

“Hello! I’m Tsuchimikado Y/n, you can call me either Tsuchi or y/n I really don’t mind either way. Also my first year here, please take care of me!” you grinned.

“Ahhh, I’m so nervous to start class here. Are you ready for it?”

“To be honest I’m also nervous, but pretty excited! Ah, I have to go eat dinner now and call my family, but tomorrow I’m free to chat more. You can come over to my room if you’d like.” You offered.

She agreed and bid you goodnight.

◇◇◇

You were able to get to know Miwa before classes began, and it was really fun getting to know her. She talked about her brothers and her origins, but admitted that she couldn’t give out too many details on her technique.

“I’m sorry y/n but I was told to keep it a secret. Even among other jujutsu shi. And I’m just doing all I can to support my brothers.” She sadly spoke.

To which you didn’t mind too much, as you were the same. The Tsuchimikado does its best to keep their strongest techniques and passed down family legends under wraps, to prevent themselves from being targeted by curse users.

“It’s no worry at all, you don’t have to share anything you don’t want to share. And I won’t pry. I come from a minor Jujutsu clan and understand the need to keep cursed technique details a secret.” You smiled and offered her more biscuits.

If you don’t stand out, you would have less affairs to worry about. Unlike the great 3 Jujutsu clans. And because of this, you sort of grew up in a regular loving home, with the exception of normalcy brought by the need to kill curses.

◇◇◇

Classes soon started after and honestly they were not too bad. You all got your student ID cards on the very first day.

You were surprised to see that you were awarded a Special Grade title on the very first day… not what you expected. The rest were, as expected, Grade 4 jujutsu sorcerers.

Everyone starts on the same level and can have their ranks increased as they go. They can get recommended to Grade 2 and/or Grade 1 based on their performance.

Geniuses were said to start as a Grade 2 sorcerer in their first year. Grade 3 was average for a jujutsu high student. And a special grade is an anomaly.

You were pretty sure that you and your family kept your condition under wraps and yet… You looked up to Utahime and asked if you could have a chat outside. She eyed you knowingly and the others stared at you as you left the room.

“Uhhh… There seems to be a mistake with this. I don’t think I am fit to be a Special Grade yet Utahime sensei.” you explained to her truthfully.

“Tsuchimikado chan. You are from a minor Jujutsu clan, that's true. And while it is very rare for an esper to be born in your clan, there was a higher up who was in touch with your father. They received enough information about your technique, albeit not all of it of course, and cursed energy levels, deeming you to be a special grade.”

You just stared at her in shock at all this info. Sure you’ve been sparring with your cousins, and yeah nobody could come close to you when you had mastered your basic barriers and cursed technique. But you didn’t expect to get this far.

Then Utahime sighed, “Okay I’ll be honest. There was one other person who actually pushed for this and was surprisingly agreed to by the elders.”

You felt yourself tense up, “Who?”

“Gojo Satoru said you were capable of dealing a massive destruction over a large scaled area. And of course, the jujutsu higher ups are aware as to what happened to you when you were 6 years old.”

“Satoru nii!” You paled, blood draining out of your face, but before you could open your mouth Utahime consoled you. “It’s okay. It’s kept top secret… well as much as a secret can be amongst the Jujutsu school leaders and higher ups. Don’t worry, we understand your situation.”

You just nodded, still as white as a sheet. ‘They know, oh gosh of course they know!’ you thought with horror.

“Okay, now nobody should give you any trouble. Just relax, you’re not forced to give out any info to the other students if you don’t want to. It’s okay,” She pushed you back into the classroom where the other students were chatting.

“Haiiii, let’s start class now.” Utahime called out to which you all responded with a “Yes sensei.”

◇◇◇

Everything started to calm down and settle at school for you after that day.

Most of your time was spent in the classroom with regular subjects. But then you’d have the added physical training and cursed energy management with Utahime sensei, which you always looked forward to the most.

“Okay, time to form pairs now. Mai and Y/n. Miwa and Mechamaru, try to disarm and pin down your opponent if you can. Y/n go easy on the others.” Utahime sensei spoke, to which of course you agreed to.

Amongst the first years, both you and Mechamaru seemed to be the most capable, proficient even with long range techniques.

Mai and Miwa were weak in close combat quarters when they were disarmed. And it was too easy for you to disarm them with minimal cursed energy, as you spent a lot of time sparring with your older male cousins.

“Hup!” You closed in on Mai and kicked the gun from her grasp before flipping her body and pinning her to the ground. Mixed martial arts definitely comes in handy.

“Ouch, she said to go easy on me Y/n. You’re still pretty rough.” Mai spat out. “Get strong now or you won’t last on the battlefield. You have to focus on surviving.” You darkly said. Mai was shocked at that since you were always so bright and cheerful.

But everyone else noticed that whenever you were training, (whether it be by yourself in your free time or sparring with the others during class) you seemed like an entirely different person. Cold, calculating, detached, strong and fierce.

But of course, you always did your best to help them improve. “Mai, you’re moving your body wrong. Stabilise your footing, then aim. If I come close to you from the side, try to hit me based on your peripheral vision quicker.”

Truth be told, she improved. “Thank you y/n. You seem familiar with martial arts. Do you do any?” She asked you during break time.

Mechamaru and Miwa listened in, facing you curiously. The entire school is now aware of your Special Grade status, but everyone was still shy to outright ask you about the full details of how it was granted.

“I do. I’ve grown up sparring with my older male cousins all the time. Mixed martial arts, Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, and Krav Maga. Not sure if you guys know of Tsuchimikado Hiroki? Graduated from Kyoto Jujutsu high a few years back.”

“I’ve heard of his name in passing, but I don’t know of him. Your clan is kept pretty well under wraps after all.” Mai said. You smiled and nodded.

You were set to spar with Mechamaru after the break. This is where it got interesting. You activated your technique for the first time since training started as he shot laser beams at you.

He did everything he could, but even with his sword options, and strongest bursts of cursed energy, nothing hit you while you stood in the same spot.

You had activated your cursed technique, and made the space around you warp, making the attacks bounce off. Mechamaru had pretty solid power, but it wasn’t enough to rock you.

You held out one hand, “Enhanced gravity: Output level 5%” and Mechamaru’s body crumpled against the ground. You increased the air pressure above his body until he shouted, “Give!”.

You released your technique and thanked him for the fight. Mai and Miwa had stopped sparring to watch the both of you.

“Wow.” Miwa said with sparkling eyes. “No wonder… she’s special grade.” she whispered.

To be honest, at the end of the day labels and rankings meant NOTHING to you. You wanted all your allies to get as strong as they can be, so that they won’t suffer during missions.

Which is why you openly offered advice and help when they needed it. You’ve had enough of loss.

◇◇◇

When you had your free time you made your way to the library as was planned. You had a list of topics to burn through. Past lives, shared visions, alternate worlds, future visions… and the topic of soulmates. You had to get to the bottom of whatever happened between Noritoshi senpai and you.

The Tsuchimikado clan did have its history and legends as well. You had information on the other big 3 clans and their techniques. Along with that information came the basic legends of old. Soulmates, possibilities of inherited memories, parallel worlds, and some of the most evil of curses to exist. (Such as Ryomen Sukuna).

But you were sad to see that there was a lack of books on soulmates. Only some left on alternate and Parallel Worlds. 'Is the library lacking??? Didn't expect that.' You thought sadly.

You asked the librarian about it but, "I'm sorry my dear, we only have what's there on the shelves. There's a possibility the books have been borrowed. I can check the database for you."

"Yes please, thank you so much."

"Ah yes….. Kamo kun has taken some books on soulmates, parallel worlds, foresight and Abe no Seimei. Are those any of what you're looking for?" She asked.

You felt yourself pause. Okay so you were both thinking along the same lines. Not surprising.

"Yes, I can just wait for him to return it or ask him about it then. Thank you so much that was a great help!" You bid her your goodbyes and left the library.

Not to worry, you were going to see him real soon.

Author's notes: These first few chapters focus heavily on world building to set the pace for the story. You'll see a lot more of Nori in the following chapters <3

Blood Bound: Table of Contents