#if anyone wants to add anything or expand on any point they are welcome to

[vinylvillainess]

Intro to my blog:

Hello and welcome all, I made a separate account for writing. This is not my first time considering moving my writing to Tumblr, but the Tumblr layout always intimidated me and as a perfectionist, I fear posting.

I don't plan on doing asks or requests as of yet as I mostly write for my own enjoyment. If you like it, read it and leave a like or reblog, if not I ask that you scroll and do not cause any unnecessary stress.

Since I will be writing NSFW themes, minors please refrain from interacting with my blog. All ageless accounts will be blocked. In addition to that, I will be tagging for mature themes.

Side Note: I most likely will not have a regular posting schedule. I experience burnout quickly and, of course, I have to adult.

About me:

You can call me Mystic or any variation of my username.

• I'm 28, I am boundlessly autistic and it may show in my normal speech patterns or writing, please bear with me. I have always loved writing for the fun of it and want to expand my creative writing abilities.

• My current hyperfixation is Love and Deepspace, but that is subject to change at any time. I also have an interest in Obey Me content.

• My favorite color is purple 💜 As will be seen in my aesthetics.

Things that I do not want in my space:

• For obvious reasons, drama. I will block anyone who disturbs my peace.

• Politics/Geopolitics. I have another blog in which I repost things of importance.

• Rcta, homophobes, ableists, racists, sexists

I don't think that needs an explanation.

Things I will write:

• N/sfw - Consenting relationships, FWB, casual

• Fluff - Anything fluffy

• Comfort - I will add the proper CW/TW if needed

• Angst - Non graphic death, grieving, break-ups

Things I will not write:

• Non-con, Dub-con, CNC

• Age play/regression, Under 18 🚫

• Pet play, Furries, Zooph*lia

• Bodily horror in detail

• Angst themes like cheating, homewrecking

• Things I'm not interested in

I'll add more as I see fit, though these are the main things I would like to stress. There is nuance that is missing here, but the main points are my focus and I will be avoiding them.

[elishortforelliott]

IF YOU ARE SUPPORTING ISRAEL LEAVE MY BLOG AND DO YOUR RESEARCH. FREE PALESTINE 🇵🇸 🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸

Ok! Hello!! I'm making an introduction page and i dont know how to do introductions that well so I'm going with the flow so sorry if this is confusing!!! Also I have Bolded all the important text so if you want to skim just read the bolded text! :D ALSO if you follow me and you look like a bot (you have nothing on your profile have the default profile picture etc.) I will block you.

WARNINGS AND DNI UNDER THE CUT LOOK AT THEM.

THE INTRODUCTION 👋

Credit: @/burntoutuserboxes

Hi! My name is Eli or you can call me Elliott I do not care!! Either one is fine!! My pronouns are he/they and I think I'm either trans masc or bigender but I'm still figuring thing out! :D I'm bisexual and ace! and I am a minor. I'm working on improving my art so alot of my posts will probably be fanart or just random doodles. I will be working on anatomy so expect me to post huminoids with sub par anatomy and procrastinating by drawing landscapes and I am SHIT at finishing projects so if I say I'm doing something expect it to be posted in a year/hj I'm also learning ceramics!! and I'll take drawing requests!! :D (but if I dont want to do them you have to respect that.) Also be prepared for alot of me screeching about random things.

THE WARNINGS ⚠️

I am in alot of horror/thriller fandoms!! So on my blog you will see: teeth, gore, worms, insects, child murder, murder, eye imagery, clowns, animatronics, manikins, weapons, and so on if you are uncomfortable with any of these things I will be doing my best to add warnings to all of my posts that have the above topics but if you don't want to take any chances please leave.(also if there are anyways where I could improve/add any warnings please tell me.)

ALSO I may or may not reblog/post about political topics or religion (specifically Christianity) i will be putting warnings on these posts but please be careful and leave this blog if it will be harmful for you!

MY BOUNDARIES/DNIs 🛑

Okay! So these are my boundaries please respect them!

Please do not interact if you are: racist, homophobic, transphobic, abilest, proshipper, p*rn bot, pedophile, fatphobic, etc.

Please do not talk about Christianity (I have religious trama) unless I have brought the topic up. anyone who is Christian please do not interact with this blog even if you support lgbtq+ and are not just a total asshole please dont interact im sure your a great person just please do not interact.

DO NOT steal my art if you do repost it please make sure to ask for my permission first and to give me credit and if you don't ill steal your knee caps

Please be patient with me and spelling. I absolutely suck at it and auto correct is my life line. You can totally point out spelling/ Grammar mistakes I make but please don't be rude about it.

And please tell me if I have said/done/rebloged anything harmful, offensive, misinformed, annoying, or rude.

THE FANDOM/INTERESTS LIST 👁

Credit: @/burntoutuserboxes

There are alot of fandoms that I am in so this list is very big and ever expanding!!!

The Penumbra Podcast (i am still on season 3 please no spoilers!)

SIAMÉS

Fools gold DnD campaign

Nimona

Barbie

Hollow knight

Sonic

Teenage mutant ninja turtles (most shows and comics i haven't seen all of them.)

Lego monkie kid

The magnus archives (I have been spoiled on like the whole thing so spoilers are fine!)

Welcome to nightvale (I have not finished year 3 please no spoilers!)

Hello from the hallowoods( I have just started so no spoilers please!)

Malevolent (i have also just started!)

Minecraft

Stray

Last of us

The owl house

Amphibia

Gravity falls

Dead end paranormal park

Spiderman into the spiderveres

BNA

Mob Psycho

Promise neverland

Pokemon

Spiritfarer

Five nights at freddy's

Bendy and the ink machine

Detroit become human

Stardew valley (please no spoilers please!)

Hell followed with us

The girl from the other side

The crane wives

The amazing devil

Pottery/ceramics

Painting/drawing

AND FINALLY TAGS/ ORIGINAL WORKS#️⃣

I have 3 tags i will hopefully have a tag for ask soon but I am procrastinating

#my art -- This as a bunch of fanart of the fadoms I am in and just artpeices I've made

#my pottery -- This is all my pottery pieces and the progress! :D

#To Find A Home -- this is a story im making and im so excited to share my ocs!!!

Thank you for reading!!! Please talk to me if we have any fadoms in common! I want to make friends!! :D

[transqueerquestions]

Question:

When binding can you slouch/lay down?

This may sound like a weird question but I wanted to know:

When wearing my binder, can I slouch/just lay on my bed(Not sleeping, just laying down)

I can’t find any good results for this question

Tobi: Hey nonnie! Firstly, absolutely no worries, i do not consider questions to be weird, strange, wrong, or anything else here, they’re all just questions, and I will always try my best to answer to the best of my ability.

That being said, I’m both surprised and not surprised there’s nothing in particular on slouching or laying down in binders, so know this answer is coming directly from my own experiences, and may not be applicable to everyone.

For slouching: I’d say intermittent/not constant slouching is a-okay. Best practices while binding would be keeping good posture as much as possible and ensuring the best possible opportunity for your lungs to expand fully, as the main concern with binding in general is its restrictiveness to the ribcage/torso/lungs.

Slouching inherently squashes that important expansion ability, and the severity depends on how and how much you’re slouching, but either way, while it’s not going to be terrible for you to do here and there, it’s not recommended that you stay slouched for long periods of time while binding.

For lying down: So long as you’re not sleeping, lying down is a similar answer to above. The restriction with lying down is more gravity based-On your back you’re expanding against both gravity and the binder, on your stomach you’re expanding against your own body and the binder, and on your side, you’re adding another point of pressure to the front and back the binder already covers.

Mind you-these restrictions are minor, even less so than slouching. However, that is not a reason to not be aware of how these positions can affect your binding health and safety. Sleeping is a concern for binding in particular because your breathing pattern changes and deepens as you sleep, meaning the binder adds unnecessary restriction for a long period of time.

Overall advice: My biggest emphasis when talking about binding is highly focused on being in tune with your individual body and it’s cues.

Good posture is always going to be helpful in the long run, but I know just how hard that can be to maintain. A good rule of thumb that I live by, as I do still bind myself and I have made far too many mistakes in my youth that still haunt me:

If you are feeling short of breath at any given time, that’s a good indication to take off your binder and do some breathing exercises, do some deep coughs to stimulate circulation, etc.

No amount of dysphoria is worth binding improperly, incorrectly, or for too long. Please trust me on this, because it can (and has for some folks) affect your ability to get top surgery down the line.

For myself, as an example, my previous excessive binding has somewhat ‘warped’ my ribcage, and as such, forced me to really scale back how much I bind to avoid it causing any more problems.

To be fair, I’m glad that I’ve been forced to cut back though, because it’s really helped with my own resilience towards outside perspectives of my body. No matter what I do, wear, act, whether I bind or not, etc, 90% of the time I’m perceived as a woman by strangers. This in turn forced me to reckon with how other people’s perceptions of my gender expression AND the forms my body takes has NO bearing on my own understanding of myself, and subsequently my own understanding of my gender.

At the end of the day, I know I’m a man. Anyone is welcome to disagree with me, or think otherwise, but they don’t get any decision on who I am, only I have that power.

If you choose to bind, ensure you are doing so with a full understanding of what it can and cannot do for you, as well as making sure you’re doing it as safely as possible. This means:

- Monitoring your breathing and posture.

- Ensure you do not wear one excessively. The general consensus is up to 8 hours, but it is always better to wear for less time.

- NOT wearing one to perform excessive physical activity (workouts, running, anything that gets your heart and breathing rate up for extended periods), or to sleep in.

- Taking it off the moment anything hurts, you find it harder to breathe, or even if anything feels off. Your body wants to keep you safe, listen to its cues!

All in all, I hope this helps! Good luck and stay safe! ♥️

[charcadett]

Milo He/They 22 🏳️‍⚧️

Hiii, this is a sideblog for Pokemon stuff! Mostly headcanon posts, but you might see a oneshot or two scattered about who knows. I will occasionally be posting spicy content. However, when I do, it definitely won’t be often and it will be tagged #not sft so filter that if you’re uncomfortable or a minor! Also, if you’re a minor or don’t have any indication that you’re an adult in your bio and you interact with any 18+ posts, I’ll block you.

I have ADHD, so my fixations tend to jump around a lot. So, at some point, I might become somewhat inactive on this blog, I’ll eventually come back.

My main account is @gribblehusband where I’m more active and also I follow from there lol. Ask box is always open to talk or share your own headcanons, I LOVE to talk. You are totally welcome to DM me too, I love to make friends!

Ko-Fi <3

REQUESTS: Closed!

Link To My Larry X Reader Fic

MASTERLIST (<- Last Updated: 2/4/23)

CHARACTER LIST

RULES UNDER CUT

Will write

- I only Scarlet and Violet and Sun and Moon for right now, though that’ll expand eventually!

- I write for the gym leaders (minus Iono), the elite four, the teachers, and the professors.

- When it comes to shipping I only do x reader content. I’ve never been super big on shipping, but I enjoy from the sidelines! However, I am open to doing general headcanons about canon characters! If two characters would be friends, a group of characters doing a specific activity together, etc.

- Unless otherwise specified, I only write reader as gender neutral. I’m totally open to writing reader as gendered though, just let me know in your request!

- In relation to the above point, I will happily write trans readers, and canon characters as trans as well! More than happy to even! There’s not enough of it.

- Polyamory!

- Romantic, platonic, or even queer platonic scenarios. I’m also open to found family. Best trope is character seeing a kid and being like “Is anyone gonna adopt that?” but not wait for an answer.

- I’m open to doing NSFW. I’ve never done it before, so it may take me a sec to get around to at first.

- Open to writing for heavier topics regarding mental health, or health in general, as long as I feel like I can do it justice, and it’s not gratuitous angst. I’ll probably pull from my own experiences if it’s something I struggle with as well, or will ask people I know.

- Keep requests to like, 3 or 4 per person each time the inbox is open. I tend to close it around 20 or so requests, just for my own sake and I wanna make sure everyone who wants to gets a chance to send something in can! Thank you :D

- Crossovers! Total guilty pleasure of mine. I think they’re super fun and silly. Examples could be: Character with S/O who is a witch like in The Owl house, how would Character react to This Media, how would the Gym Leaders fare on Total Drama Island. Idk, go ham bro. I indulge in a lot of media, so there’s really no list of fandoms I’ll do this for. Just send something in and I’ll see what I can do!

Note: I won’t do crossover requests for the following fandoms: Harry Potter, Hazbin Hotel, or Attack on Titan. Might add more over time if I remember? I’d just rather not make content for any of these properties.

That being said, this is just for funsies, so I totally reserve the right to delete a request if it makes me uncomfortable or I uhhh just can’t think of anything for it.

Won’t Write:

- For any of the SV rivals, Team Star, or Iono. For the former, until their ages are officially confirmed, I’d rather not write for them. It’s just something I’m not personally comfortable with. For Iono, she just reads as sixteen to me, so again, not super comfortable writing for her either.

- Noncon

- Incest

- Pokephilia

- Yandere

- Pregnancy

- Hybrids, they’re just not really my thing.

[batteredwarriorstillstanding]

Whoa, whoa, whoa....let's interrupt programming with a necessary reality check, and side of tough love. You resisted communicating with me, and this absolutely had major consequences where I was concerned--since, for reasons only partially clear, it is, in fact, of major importance to do all I can to add you to my life....again, if this is never in the form of romantic involvement (and, more and more, that seems to make, by a fucking mile, the most sense) that is, perhaps, not precisely in-line with early expectations, but wonderful, nonetheless. The main, and certainly chief intended result of you cutting me off at all points within speaking distance of you has had others, also. For example, you will not believe how full of errors, including some major ones, your beliefs concerning anything and everything associated with me tend to be....this cloud of misunderstanding, already an impediment to current communication is also a frequent agitator of some less-than-desirable traits thatcI possess. So, because, I suspect the mistaken viewpoint's very nature is always bound to be impacted by friends and family not on board with us in any manifestation (though only a small portion of what I suspect has actually been demonstrated) it's safe to observe that negativity has been used as a tool, incorrectly, toward this end. This can elicit frustration and anger and it, sadly, has not exactly been a solar-eclipse-level rarity for me to become so distraught by the seeming injustice of it all that I begin acting every bit the abusive, exploitative significant other-in -waiting, who simply cannot contain his excitement at the prospect of misusing each of your considerable attributes for my own benefit, all the while, gaslighting you into a broken shambles so precisely that it isn't ling before your destroyer os, in your eyes, your onmy saving grace. In truth, I have never been abusive toward anyone in anything that resembled this exampke at all, and, as far as you are concerned, while I can definitely return your hardest serve....or even aim right for you, once in a while, when I become angry enough, I actually value you deeply, and this has never changed. Not being afforded an opportunity on a multitude of fronts that are, seemingly, nothing more than products of people talking from their asses, and woukd quickly be shown as such...

Don't get me wrong, it ain't "someone else" who is responsible for your closeting from me, it's you ...but, they certainly helped...and had no qualms about doing so dishonestly. Ao, for the 15th time in a few months, I am sorry for being a dick to you....if ever you were forced to navigate the described impossibility of a "boundary" or an "obstacle provided by the universe" or whatever the fuck else, when, actually, it had all become a fool's errand, and you could feel the heartbreak i did upon realization if this disturbing suspicion, you would understand that I still, if course, love you. I am no help to anyone, though, if I fail to survive, myself. Oh yeah, 1 or 2 days ago, someone sent me an "I'm gonna be your fem domme" welcome letter....hilariius...if that was you. Pretty sure you'd end up dead...dominating the funeral home. But, nice sentiment. Just jok I ng, of course. Due to extenuating circumstances, I have taken the liberty of expanding normal boundaries of good taste in posting from their typical levels to.....whatever I want. But, don't mistake this for genuine ill will.

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

no problem!! honestly i love infodumping about this stuff and trying to explain it in terms that might be more accessible to people; tabletop can be intimidating if you're not familiar with how it goes, but if you try it and it clicks it is a really, truly special experience that's hard or downright impossible to capture with other forms of media, and the idea of making it available to people who might find joy in it when it's been such a gatekept form of storytelling for so long is something i'm really passionate about.

(i feel similarly about it to the way a lot of people feel about theatre, actually, now that i think of it.)

so yeah! it may take me a little while to draft up some proper in-depth answers (especially since i've been immersed in this for the better part of a year now, so i'm doing my best not to fall into this xkcd comic ashdhdjdhd), but it's no hardship to me to answer questions about this stuff and if anything i'm really grateful for the opportunity. :D

initial answer to the question re: D&D and Warhammer 40K (which will probably make more sense after the upcoming post going more in-depth on all this): they're both massive, extremely complicated systems which are almost entirely built around playing out combat in excruciating detail, and actual storytelling is kind of an afterthought in comparison. their communities have done a lot over time to try and compensate for that, but it's at the heart of those games and that's not really the kind of thing i'm interested in when i want to sit down and play/develop tabletop.

(seriously, the norm for D&D is for one (1) battle to take an entire 2-4 hour session. it's a game where unless you have a really good DM you could straight up take a short nap in between actually getting to do anything during combat, as long as people catch you up on what happened while you were out. it's a LOT.)

add that to the fact that D&D especially is a game people have been expanding and patching and adding onto, and making whole new editions of, for decades--and that there are a lot of worldbuilding things built into fundamental mechanics that Really Bother Me, like the alignment chart--and it's one that's just too overwhelming for me to want to get the hang of enough to design things for.

which, again, i'm not opposed to it on principle! if anyone who knows more about, and/or is more interested in working with, D&D or Warhammer than i am wants to give it a shot, that's totally cool and i'd love to see it. i just would rather not work with it myself, except maybe to take inspiration from some bits and pieces here and there.

(fun fact: the vatborn and trueborn were lifted straight out of warhammer uncredited, lmfao)

BUT YEAH, again some of this will probably make more sense with the followup i'm going to write out about the deal with systems + adapting things to them, and how it's relevant to LL in this case. i'm looking forward to it and i love talking about this stuff, so don't hesitate to ask questions if at any point you're still not sure about something! if anything it actually helps me think more solidly about the design and where to focus on it, so they're very much welcome. ✨️

hey there, LL fandom!

first off i have been gone for a while, whoops, hello

second, i have been on a huge tabletop dev kick lately, and i am considering whipping up something for lorien legacies! i'm not sure yet how much of it would be its own system vs how much of it would be a supplement for an existing, larger game, but LL has some worldbuilding that i think would adapt really well to RPG format and i thought it'd be neat to give it a shot.

right now the main things i'm planning on adapting in some form are:

legacies, Of Course

charms

the Goop, especially augments and vatborn

chimæra

garde vs non-garde

species (where relevant and appropriate)

whatever is going on with the entity, the spark, and how they relate to different planets' alive-or-dead status

staying undercover vs strategically revealing information

establishing bases, resources, and backup vs being ready to make a clean getaway

guidelines for making/tweaking new legacies, charms, etc while keeping them balanced and fun, as well as leaving room for people to use their own interpretations of the worldbuilding

And So On

it might take me a while to get around to it, and it might turn into a Huge Complex Thing of Its Own, or might just be good for some flavoring and small mechanical twists added on to an existing game. but i think it'd be a lot of fun to work on, and if anyone has suggestions for systems you think it might work well with or other things from the books to adapt, feel free to weigh in!

[mcicynesd-blog]

Things I love about Jake and Rose's relationship:

It's not a one-sided relationship at all. We just get Jake's POV cause he's the protagonist. She seems just as much into him as he is into her. In fact, I think she's more into him. But she's just better at hiding her affection.

They are equally matched in the battlefield.

Their flirty banter when they fight as American dragon and Huntsgirl. "I liked you better tied up," "I bet you say that to all the dragons."

Rose being all cuddly and dorky with Jake during Dreamscape. In fact, I think she's just as dorky and nerdy as Jake. Just that she never got the opportunity to be a normal kid.

Rose calling Jake Honey

They are both willing to give up their lives for each other. (Jake in The Academy and Rose in Homecoming).

Rose still feeling that Jake looks familiar after he wiped off their entire relationship with his wish. Just the implications of that statement alone.

Everyone in his family and friend circle telling him to let her go, but he never does. Both in Homecoming and HKL, Lao Shi tells him to let her go, but he doesn't listen and saves her each time.

In fact, Rose saves Jake's world (Homecoming and HKL) and then Jake saves Rose.

[lillylunala]

Anyways, any new people from Twitter, welcome!

Tumblr’s kinda similar in a buncha ways (Tweet = Post, Retweet and Quote Tweet = Reblog), but here’s a short little summary of things that work differently and might help yall to know:

Optional: Go to your Settings, go to Dashboard, and remove “Best Things First”. This is a very recent attempt by Tumblr to include a form of “Likes” based algorythm. It’s somewhat primitive, and makes it very hard for most posts to get any visibility, so it’s highly recommended to just turn it off. If you do, all posts on your dash will be seen in chronological order instead.

Tags work in a similar way to Twitter, except you now add them at the very bottom of a post! They’re smaller and greyed out, so they’re much less intrusive, and you can add in up to 20 tags per post. The first 5 tags are the ones most likely to show up on searches, so keep that in mind when posting!

Tags are more than just a hashtag system! Because you can write spaces and full sentences in them, people will use them a lot to add uninntrusive comments on reblogs. See, direct comments on reblogs will stick under the original post for any chain of reblogs that originates from yours, and might detract from the original post. Only include comments there if there’s something you think is important to point out of discuss about the original post (and please try keep civil)

REBLOG!! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, REBLOG! Tumblr doesn’t work like Twitter. There’s no algorythm here to spoonfeed you the most popular posts based on likes. Things on tumblr only move via two ways: By tags, and especially by reblogs. Always try to reblog posts you like, so they can actually be seen! Likes are nice but don’t actually do anything for visibility! (and no, “Best Things First” doesn’t help expand beyond the people and tags you are already following)

Curate your experience! Blocking is always an option, and because there’s so many possible tags that can be added on a post, it’s much easier to blacklist more specific tags for yourself (For example, blacklisting #gore or #eyestrain). DONT CENSOR WORDS IN TAGS! Stuff like “k!ll” and “s*icide mention” doesn’t screw with “The Algorythm”, because there is none! The only thing it does is make it impossible for people to avoid the tags they’ve blacklisted!

Posts can be as long as you want! Tumblr will automatically “hide” part of a post after a certain point under a “See More” button to prevent cluttering people’s dash (It might’ve even done it for this very post). Just by clicking on it, people will instantly be able to see the full unchanged post, which is very handy!

Anyone’s free to continue adding to this!

[tittyblade]

tumblr etiquette 101

a list that is nowhere near exhaustive, from yours truly.

First off, welcome! Whether you’re a twitter veteran looking for anything but whatever twitter is, or a new user just done signing up, glad to see you in our ranks beloveds! Welcome home. Refer to this quick tour to make sure your fandom experience (or tumblr experience in general) is a positive one!

Disclaimer: I know it’s long, but please try to read or skim through til the end if you’re new here! This is by no means meant to be a rule book (for the most part lol), only a guide to help you get settled easier!

1) Your blog

This is where people will see and interact with you, so put some effort into it!

Try to choose a name (url) that’s simple. You can see it as your brand, it’s how people will perceive you and remember you. If you’d like to interact with other users here (and not use the site just for the content) it’s better to have something short and sweet, preferably without spaces. (Of course, these are only suggestions.) Rest assured, you can change it literally any time you want.

Have a theme. Utilize the tool that lets you edit your blog’s color or the font of your bio! You can make it match your profile picture, or your blog if it has a theme of its own. Make it feel homey :]

Fill in your bio. People will be checking out your profile probably more often than you think. Don’t leave it empty! Put in any information you’re comfortable with sharing and isn’t too personal (like your age if you’re a minor, or other TMI that can be found on other people’s carrds). It’s always better to add a name/nickname people can use to refer to you by, but feel free to use your blog description to shitpost still.

You can have an intro post. More often than not, you’ll see a blog have a pinned post, a post permanently appearing at the top of a blog until you pin another post or unpin it. You can make one of those, if you’d like to introduce yourself in more length, link any other socials or a carrd, and show others visiting your blog how you tag things so it’ll be easy for them to navigate. Not an obligation.

Keep your anonymity and your safety. It should go without saying, but there’s no harm in repeating it just in case. Your comfort, privacy and safety has the utmost importance. Don’t share any information you don’t want to. Don’t share your age if you’re a minor, or any other incredibly personal info. I’d encourage you to go by a nickname that’s not your real name, (blog name, your brand, remember?) since there’s safety in anonymity, and that’s lowkey one of the big deals of tumblr, but that’s up to you still.

Choose what you want to be visible. Your liked posts and who you follow are all things you can set to keep to yourself and hide from the publics eye, how handy! You should go through all the setting while you’re at it, set it to your comfort.

Side blogs are a thing. You can have multiple blogs that you can use for different things (see: different fandoms, art blog, etc) to keep them organized or away from your followers. Just remember that the replies and off-anon asks you send will be from your main blog, as well as where you follow other blogs from.

2) Interacting with others

You’ve set up your account, now comes the fun part!

Follow to your heart’s desire. If you care about others seeing who you follow, fear not! In tumblr, usually only two types of blogs keep their following visible to others: newbies, and big blogs using it to point people on other good blogs’ direction. Just turn it off, and go ham following people.

Customize your dashboard. Gonna mention just two things here: this is another reason why it’s really important that you follow blogs without sparing, your dash will collect dust otherwise; and you should turn off “best stuff first” in your dashboard settings, to have a better community here and all.

Follow tags. You can set it in your settings that posts with your followed tags appear on your dashboard.

You can check the og post for edits and context. When you see a reblogged post you don’t understand the context of (or don’t recognize the character in case of fanarts), click on the profile so it will take you to the original post. From there you can check the original poster’s tags to get the context, or see if there have been any edits made to the post, since when you edit a post it doesn’t update any past reblogs.

Send people asks... This is how you make mutuals, people! Do it off-anon if you’d like them to know your blog, or anon if you’d rather not! (You can still end your messages with a signature to show you’re the same person, -[name] is one example.) Send them nice messages, ask their opinion on something, discuss things, or just straight up shitpost lol. Go wild. The sky’s your limit and it’s definitely more than 280 characters.

...and let them ask you! You can set your preference in the settings, do it on desktop tumblr to access more settings tho! What you can customize on mobile is limited (like letting people ask you things anonymously, that’s only on desktop settings). In my personal opinion, it’s always better to tag their username (or a nickname you give them, if they’re a friend) on that post, since you wouldn’t want your interactions with your friends to get buried in your blog forever.

Comment on posts. If you have something to say but don’t want the post to appear on your blog you can add a comment. The owner of the post will get a notif for it, but for anyone else you need to tag them.

For the love of god, reblog. People will only see your liked posts if you have it visible to public and they specifically go on your blog to look at them. You like something? You reblog. It’s already hard for posts to circulate properly, if you don’t reblog them literally no one will see them. If not for anything do it for the artists. Just hold and drag on mobile to fast rb.

3) Your Posts

Finally here! Don’t be a lurker, post and engage!

Make use of “read more”. If your post is long, add it. That’s what you clicked on earlier to expand this post. On desktop leave an empty line and you’ll see three dots appear, and on mobile type :readmore: on that empty line.

Draft a post to come back to it later. Pretty self explanatory.

Queue your post. Whether it’s your own post or you’re reblogging, make use of the queue feature to a) not spam reblog and fill up the dashboard of people following you and b) keep your blog active while you’re gone. Mess around in the settings, it’s fairly easy to set up.

Schedule your post. Same as queueing, the only difference is you get to choose the exact time your post will go up. Handy if you want to schedule a post for certain dates like april fools, or 5 years in the future for some reason. 

Format your texts. You can do all kinds of fancy stuff here (that’s a link, try pressing on it). Twitter doesn’t have this, make use of it. Changes depending on whether you’re on mobile or desktop. (Desktop has less features.)

Check your stats. If you’re trying to understand the algorithm better or want to look at some pretty graphs you can get your data on that on desktop tumblr.

@ people in comments. You’ll get all the notifs when people comment on your posts but they won’t see your reply unless you tag them in your message.

4) Tags, and tagging a post

This is where my earlier statement “this isn’t a rule book” stops being applicable. It’s not a war crime to go against these, I won’t come chasing you (don’t take my word for this) but you’ll work up a bad rep. Just saying lol.

Do NOT crosstag posts. It’s really tempting to add unrelated tags to increase your posts’ interaction, I know, but that’s not what tumblr is about. Don’t be a dick and make other communities’ experience worse for them.

Always tag your posts with “crit/critical/discourse/etc” if it calls for it. There’s no exceptions to it. This is the reason you see people migrating to tumblr. Let people enjoy things.

Don’t main tag a critical/negative post. If your crit post is about “Thing”, you add the “Thing critical” tag, but not the “Thing” tag. People block crit tags if they don’t want to see it, don’t shove it in their faces by main tagging it. 

If you don’t want to see something, just block it. Another reason why people are able to survive on tumblr. You don’t start discourse, you don’t make call-outs, you block. You can find something for every community you can think of if you go looking for it. The worst of the worst probably won’t ever appear on your dash, but if you’re worried or feel the need for it, you know where the block button is.

Feel free to shitpost or ramble. More often than not you’ll see people rb a post with a comment, and their elaboration will be in the tags. The tags are only visible on your profile and the notifications of the owner of the og blog. Just a thing people do.

Reblog artists’ posts with nice comments in the tags! Commenting on a drawing is usually done through the tags (Not an obligation, again, just a thing people do. Feel free to add your comment on the rb itself if you’d want other people to see it tho!) and leave nice messages for the artists! It’s a win-win for everyone involved. 

If you have more than a single follower, always use the common tw warning tags. You don’t need to tw everything, but tw’ing some common things is the bare minimum human decency. Keep it safe for others. 

Tag a post “long post” if it’s really long. Pretty self explanatory. Don’t make people scroll through all that please lol. 

You can use them to organize your blog. This is more of a pro tip, if you’d like to not miss a post in your blog, cause they will start pilin’ up soon enough.

#Liveblogging is pretty fun. If you’d like to talk to people during streams, don’t forget to add the relevant tags still! Again, you won’t show up on people’s dash otherwise.

Whew! That got out of hand. Hopefully I didn’t bore you too much. Check out blogs like @heritageposts and @hellsite-hall-of-fame to honor our past o7. @mcytblr-hall-of-fame too maybe :eyes:. Anyways, don’t forget the most important rule of them all:

Enjoy your stay! You’re meant to have fun on here while also making friends (if that’s your thing). Just be kind and respectful of others, you’ll get the hang of the rest! <3

[mcmoth]

Dream SMP fandom etiquette

So. This post is probably too little, too late, considering the fandom and the issues I'm about to talk about have existed for so long now, and a lot of the people who need to hear this probably aren't on tumblr anyways, but I just wanted to dedicate a quick post to talk about fandom etiquette. Mostly pertaining to discourse, and interactions with people outside of our circle. These are just going to be my own personal thoughts, of course, but I felt it could be good to bring some of this to attention. So without further introduction:

Where to (not) talk about discourse:

Don't go into other streamer's vods to only focus about a different character. If you want to analyse, for example, c!Techno, do it in Techno's stream. Don't go into unrelated streams, like Tommy's, Tubbo's etc. to do it, even if they were a part of the event in question. This is, of course, with the exception if the character in question didn't stream their own pov. But otherwise, stay in your own space. This is to prevent cluttering a streamer's comments about unrelated discussion. To give further example: Tubbo's vod comments should primarily focus on Tubbo's character. Not Tommy's, Ranboo's, Techno's or whoever else's.

Don't start discourse in the comments of animatics. Seriously, stop that. Animatics aren't discussion boards. The comments are there to analyse and appreciate the video presented, not argue. It's especially rude if you pick a small detail, that wasn't even the focus of the animatic, or even a completely unrelated issue to rant out your frustrations about. To give examples: starting disc discourse in an animatic of Tommy talking to Wilbur, or rambling about how tragic Techno's character is in an animatic focused on clingy duo, etc.

This applies to fan songs as well.

Video essays are the exception to these rules. I think it's safe to say they're the place to bring your hot takes, if you really feel so inclined to argue in youtube comment sections (Though I'd personally advise to still keep the topic relevant).

Keep negativity out of fanfic comments. This isn't nearly as big of an issue as the last points, but I've seen it happen a couple times, so I'm deciding to mention it. Fanfics are written for fun. Even if you disagree with the characterisation or something else, unless the author is clear in accepting critique, keep criticism to yourself. And definitely don't rant about how you dislike a character unrelated to the fanfic. Sharing your thoughts on the fanfic itself is of course fine and welcomed, but when it turns from discussing the author's story to talking about how you dislike a character in canon, that's when it crosses a line. Example: comment talking about what you don't like about c!Tommy on a Bench Trio fanfiction.

When commenting on art, keep the feedback positive. Even if you dislike any presented character, keep that to yourself. Example: Don't say things like "I hate x character, but this art is good". You might think the author would feel honoured, but it's actually just hurtful.

How to deal with discourse:

This is gonna be a shorter section, because I think we all chose to do it in different ways, and that's valid. Also, it's just that I, myself, am still learning how to do this well, but I thought it could be good to try to lay it out anyways.

Try to scroll past takes you disagree with instead of arguing if you don't think you'd be able to keep your cool. Noone likes a random person yelling at them through a screen, and if you rant, you'll get an equally frustrated reply back, and noone will be happy. Either explain your point in a calm manner, or scroll past/ unfollow/block.

On the keeping cool thing, remember to just step away. Take a deep breath and calm yourself down before proceeding. To minimize the frustration you feel on a daily basis, filter tags, block people, avoid videos and youtube comment sections that you know will upset you, and leave certain internet spaces if you find yourself unable to escape negativity even with all those steps. Remember: in the end, it's all a game played by friends, a story, and your enjoyment of it lies in what you take from it. Abandon what makes you unhappy. Marie Kondo your fandom experience.

Also, here's your reminder, to whom this is relevant, to take care of yourself. Hydrate, eat, sleep, clean up, get fresh air, remember the things outside of all this. There's plenty to do outside of this fandom, and what you can do here can wait. There is no pressure, or obligation. Not for the content you create, not for the discussions you bring, not for responding to discourse, not for anything. Fandom is meant purely for fun, so take care <3

Interacting with people outside of the fandom:

This is something that I've seen a bit of talk about, and I thought I'd drop in my own thoughts on this as well. No matter the differences, we're all just trying to vibe, and I think these are important things to keep in mind to leave both sides better off:

Don't interact with hate posts. Just don't. You don't want to see them, they don't want to see you. Even if your response is lighthearted, their animosity is not. They will feel frustrated regardless, and the grudge will only grow. And if they're being agressive, calm discussion most likely won't happen even if you're being polite. Just leave it, please.

Correct misinformation calmly. I completely get how it can be frustrating to see blatant lies and all, but with our reputation, people will not listen if you're being antagonistic. Provide sources, explain, and leave it at that.

Don't be hateful, send death threats, or assume privilege or whatever else. That's stepping into the same shoes of the people you hate. Misunderstandings go both ways, and the fact of the matter is, I think most people who dislike DSMP, even the ones who are agressive about it, don't have their stance rooted in maliciousness. To expand on why the situation became what it is today, taken from a discussion on discord:

I think it's just a combination of Dream growing so insanely quickly + how internet spaces have changed over the years. When ccs like jackstepticeye or pewdiepie etc. grew popular, activism wasn't as prevalent and held to such importance. Now it's thankfully more talked about, but that also leads to Dream being more scrutinized in comparision. Add twitter trends and the general prevalence of the fandom, and you've got everyone feeling tired and frustrated and paranoid. People also tend not to fact check stuff, especially when it comes to celebrities and stuff they're not really interested in, so rumors spread fast.

And actually, I think there's absolutely valid reasons to be made uncomfortable by Dream SMP, either in it's creators, content or fandom, and there is, of course, stuff to criticise in general. The problem is the hate and misinformation and overexposure, but we are not going to solve any of that by being aggressive in return.

(This is, by the way, not talking about more serious cases. Like doxxing, or leaving gore images in hashtags, or similar instances. That's a whole different complicated issue that I don't feel qualified to tackle.)

And finally, don't overwhelm outsiders who merely mention the Dream SMP. Don't send asks asking them to watch it, don't write paragraphs explaining the lore, don't confuse them with inside jokes, just... Don't jump on people like that. Unless they're explicitly clear in wanting interaction and getting into the fandom, that kind of thing will just drive them away. This is in no way exclusive to the Dream SMP fandom, pretty much every fandom has people enthiastic to have more people involved, but since there are so unbelievably many of us, it's especially easy to go overboard with this stuff. Just... be polite, and don't pressure anyone. Be nice, please.

So.... ya! This would be it for this one, I think. Sorry that it's kinda long, thank you if you read it at all. Hope y'all have pleasant days ^^

[keanureevesisbae]

But professor… - c.9

Summary: Walter and Penny can almost welcome their kid, however Penny starts to become very anxious

Professor!Walter Marshall x Penny Townsend (Asian ofc)

Wordcount: 2.3k

Warnings: Just mentions of punching people

Masterlist // But professor… masterlist // Previous chapter //

I’m thirty weeks pregnant and I know that I have around eight to ten weeks to go, however, this pregnancy has been pretty straining on my back, my pelvis and basically my entire body. Moving around is painful and my mom is over at our place a lot of the time to help me out. I’m thanking the heavens that I am not doing cosmetology school now as well, knowing for a fact that I probably couldn’t keep up at all.

If I’m not sitting on the couch reading, I’m crying because I am sitting in the nursery and think about having a little baby and all the bad things that could happen to them.

Walter is drained from a rough day of patrolling and he plops next to me on the couch. Just like any other day, I barely moved, however he still asks me the question.

‘How was your day, princess?’

‘Boring,’ I mumble. ‘How was yours?’

He simply shrugs, probably because something happened and he doesn’t want me to worry. I rest my head against his chest and without thinking it seems, he places his hand on my stomach. ‘Have they been good to you?’ he asks

‘They sure have been,’ I chuckle. ‘Just hate the fact that I’m practically glued to the couch.’

Walter nods, pressing a kiss on top of my head. I know he worries a lot and therefore confides to my mom, asking her what more he can do to help me out. Walter is being the perfect boyfriend, because even my mom said that he is doing literally all he can to help me out. One night I found him scrolling and searching for tricks to ease the pain and discomfort, though he never lets me in on it.

‘If you’re up for it, we could have dinner,’ he says, ‘somewhere other than our living room.’

‘Where do you want to go?’

‘I don’t know what you’re craving. I’m up for anything.’

‘Pizza?’ I ask. ‘I would really love a Hawaiian Pizza.’

Walter frowns for a second—probably remembering how I told him multiple times that I hate pineapple on pizza—but then he nods. ‘Of course, princess.’

✎ ✎ ✎

We’re sitting at a restaurant across from each other and it’s nice to be out and about again. I mean, I go to town with my parents a lot, I hang out with the ladies from the pregnancy class, but going out with Walter has been a while, especially because he has been working long hours and I’m tired after one trip to anywhere basically.

Walter actually stretched out his leg underneath the table, towards my side, so I can rest my feet on it. Every time I have a crust left, I hand it over to him and with a small smile he accepts them. ‘So,’ I say, ‘I’ve been thinking about a name.’

‘Tell me.’

‘I would say that for a girl we could call her Emma.’

Walter tilts his head. ‘Emma Marshall, sounds cute,’ he says with a smile. ‘You have a name for when it’s a boy?’

I shrug. ‘I don’t know. I actually think they’re a girl.’

He starts to laugh. ‘Why do you think that, princess?’

‘Just a gut feeling,’ I chuckle. ‘What do you think?’

‘I have no idea,’ he says, holding out his hand for me to take. When I placed mine in his, he adds: ‘I actually have a name for a boy. Wanna hear?’

‘Always.’

‘Declan.’

Oh, that’s a lovely name. I don’t think I even know someone who is named Declan. ‘Declan Marshall. That sounds so cute. I absolutely adore it, Walter.’

Walter smiles and gives me a kiss on my hand. ‘We’ll see how we name them.’

‘Yeah,’ I chuckle. ‘Just around ten weeks or less,’ I say. ‘Kinda nervous.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘It’s giving birth, Walter. That’s scary. All these other ladies are so confident and proud of what their bodies can do and all. I mean, sure, that’s awesome, but it also terrifies me.’

‘Understandable,’ he says. ‘I’ll be there for you, every step of the way.’

‘I know,’ I chuckle. ‘It’s just that… I don’t know. With being pregnant, it’s just all a fantasy. With a newborn, it’s the real deal.’

Walter nods, taking in my worries. ‘Well,’ he says, ‘you and I can manage.’

‘You’re being awfully nonchalant about it.’

‘That’s because I need to stay calm for you. Believe me, princess, I’m freaking out on the inside.’

I frown, because that’s the first time he actually told me those words. Usually he says that he cannot wait for this baby to arrive, though it is a little scary every now and then, but saying he is freaking out?

That’s new.

‘What?’ I ask him. ‘Are you serious?’

He nods. ‘I mean, being a parent is difficult. Growing up I didn’t have the love and support I needed. I basically raised myself and judging from the person I am today, I didn’t really do a good job.’

‘You did an excellent job,’ I retort. I know about his youth and how he had to raise himself, how you can still notice it in his day to day life. ‘Walter, please tell me about your worries. You don’t always need to be the protective big bear who prevents me from any harm. I’m a big girl and I need you to confide with me. Please?’

He sighs as he is looking everywhere but to me. This is hard, I can see it, but from the looks of it, he is gonna agree with me. ‘Okay, I’ll try.’

✎ ✎ ✎

Dinner ended not so great. As we were walking back from the restaurant to our car, two guys thought it was necessary to whistle at me (I didn’t even notice at first, but then Walter’s entire demeanor changed, so that’s how I was informed about the matter).

Let’s just say, it evolved into an argument and then one of the guys thought it was an excellent idea to push Walter. I applaud him for having the guts to push my boyfriend, but it was honestly one of the stupidest things for him to do, because Walter wouldn’t be Walter if he punched the guy and his friend.

Multiple times.

I have been ignoring him for the entire drive and once we’re home, I still don’t know what to say to him.

��Princess,’ he whispers, carefully trying to approach me as I’m sitting on the edge of the bed in his shirt. ‘Please talk to me.’

I purse my lips together, as tears burn in my eyes.

He sits behind me, placing his hands on my upper arms. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says.

‘Sorry for what?’

‘For scaring you. I was just protecting you, darling.’

‘What’s wrong with just ignoring the matter, Walter?’ I ask him, turning to the side so I can look at him without craning my neck. ‘You scared me back there.’

‘I’m not gonna let some dip shit whistle at you, especially not when I’m next to you,’ he defends himself.

‘You’re an officer,’ I tell him. ‘I don’t think this is proper behavior.’

‘I wasn’t gonna let anything happen to you,’ Walter retorts.

‘That’s not the point. The point is you put yourself in danger.’

‘Hardly.’

I glare at him. ‘I don’t like this,’ I say. ‘Have you any idea how stressful it was for me? You know what, never mind. I’m going to sleep.’

He scoots back and I wrap my arms around the pregnancy pillow, with my back towards him. I love Walter, I really do, but this… I saw it all unfolding in front of my eyes.

It would start with an argument, some light pushing, until the other guys would pull out a knife, stab Walter, which would result in a trip to the hospital. Possibility of death. Me having to bury the father of my child.

I push my face in the soft fabric of the pillow, as hot tears slide over my cheeks. Walter sighs deeply next to me and starts to toss and turn next to me. His leg bumps into mine and it causes him to hold his breath. ‘Sorry, Penny,’ he says.

I dry my cheeks on the pillow. ‘Walter,’ I whisper, ‘you know I worry when you go to work.’

‘I know,’ he says, ‘but you don’t need to.’

‘You’re gonna be the father of our kid,’ I continue, ‘and I’d like to raise them with you, not in memory of you.’

‘Princess,’ he whispers, ‘we’re gonna raise this kid and eventual others together. You know, before I met you, I was an adrenaline junkie, detective or not. I got into a lot of shit, hence the reason I was suspended and started teaching. You, my love, made me realize that chasing danger like I used to, is not gonna get me further in life. Now I have you, I have the love of my life here with me and I’m never ever gonna do anything that’ll put me or you or our child in danger.’

‘Then why did you punch him?’

‘Because he started it,’ Walter says, only for him to realize how toddler like that sounds. ‘I just want to protect you against anyone,’ he says in a softer tone. ‘Because I love you, Penelope Townsend. You are my everything.’ He wraps his arm around my upper body, pressing a kiss against my temple. ‘I’m sorry I scared you, Penny. I never meant to do such thing.’

‘I know,’ I whisper. ‘Sorry for overreacting.’

‘No, no, no, you’re not overreacting. Maybe I was.’ He pulls me closer to his own body and places his hand on my stomach. ‘Just know that I will forever protect you and the baby.’

I chuckle. ‘I know that. Promise me you won’t do anything stupid anymore, not when I’m around at least.’

He smiles. ‘I’ll tone it down a notch, princess.’

✎ ✎ ✎

‘Is that that colosseum thing you were talking about?’ Walter gestures towards my chest and I look down, spotting two tiny wet patches near my chest area, before bursting into laughter.

‘Colostrum, Walter, not colosseum.’ Oh dear, he is totally blushing, because of his mistake. ‘Can you grab me another shirt?’

I barely asked the question, when he jumps up and rushes upstairs. I rub my stomach a little bit, slightly scared at how much it expanded. I’m close to the end of my pregnancy, having reached thirty nine weeks yesterday. I wonder how it’ll ever go back to normal.

Walter comes down again and without me asking he changes my shirt. ‘Have I told you I loved you today?’

‘A few times.’ I give him a kiss and whisper: ‘I’m proud of you.’

He frowns. ‘Why are you proud of me? You’re the one growing an entire baby here.’ He carefully places his hands on the side of my stomach. ‘The least I can do is to make things as comfortable for you as possible.’

‘But you always do it without complaining,’ I say. ‘I heard that Stacey’s husband is such a pain in the ass. Always complaining, groaning about how much he has to do nowadays.’

Walter scoffs. ‘Well, pregnant or not, I’d like to worship you, make your life as easy as I possibly can.’ He gives me a kiss. ‘What can I do for you, darling?’

‘Sex,’ I say, before I curl my lips in. Oh gosh, never have I been so straight forward. My cheeks heat up. ‘No, please, forget what I said.’

‘Is my girl asking me for sex?’ Walter starts to laugh. ‘The day Penny Townsend asked me for sex has finally arrived.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I laugh nervously. ‘It’s just been awhile.’ Awhile equals three months. I hate how he sometimes initiates, but I simply shake my head. It’s a combination of a very low sex drive, not feeling pretty and being in pain nearly twenty four seven.

He leans forward and kisses me. ‘Want to go to the bedroom, princess or is the couch acceptable as well?’

‘We can stay here,’ I whisper.

‘Then let me close the curtains and lock the door, okay?’

‘Okay,’ I mumble.

When he comes back, he takes off his shirt, so I can admire his beautiful strong body. There is something so special about Walter. He looks strong enough to left a car up with one arm, but he is a mushy man the second the front door closes and we’re together. He kneels in front of me, pressing open mouth kisses on my lips. ‘Shit, I love you,’ he says against my mouth. He disregards my shirt and admires me.

‘Stop,’ I say, rolling my eyes.

‘No, no, no, I could never stop admiring you.’ He places his hands on my expanded stomach and says: ‘You’re so beautiful.’

He gives me a long kiss and then I whimper. Not out of pleasure, but out of shock.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asks me.

‘I think my water broke.’

✎ ✎ ✎

Twelve hours later, I am looking at Walter, who holds the little baby in his strong arms. He sits next to me on the bed and wraps one arm around my shoulders. ‘Penny, princess,’ he says, ‘I don’t think words can describe how proud I am of you and how much I love you.’

I nuzzle my face in his chest. ‘I love you too. Thank you for not freaking out.’

‘Externally freaking out you mean, because on the inside I was fainting,’ he chuckles. He gives me a kiss on my temple. ‘I’m a dad.’

I actually see some tears in his eyes and I cannot stop my own either. ‘I know.’ I place my hand on the little bundle and whisper: ‘We’re officially parents. It’s so surreal.’ I let out a deep and content sigh.

The little baby opens their eyes and I cannot stop my smile.

‘Hi, little one,’ Walter says. ‘Oh no, Penny, we’ve created an exact copy of yours.’

I chuckle. ‘Good luck saying no to him,’ I say. ‘We love you so much, Declan Marshall. So so much.’

[elriell]

Thank you very much! I find it hard to cut them back and be less detailed to be honest. So let’s dive in to it, two quick points before we start;

There will be no hate here as every ship is valid, I simply going to explain why I believe Elriel is more likely to happen than Elucien. (IMO)

Secondly, if there’s one thing for certain with SJM it is that nothing is certain with her.

Of course like any reader I am nervous for what might happen but looking at it textually speaking I do not think we have much to worry about... Not to mention that if we look at SJM past behaviour we can extrapolate several things.

When Sarah falls in love with a character she is very willing to shift all plans to accommodate them, we have a good example of this with Rowan, once she began writing him she fell in love with him and Chaol was quickly pushed aside. I am sure she has done plenty of interviews saying as much from memory.

SJM Live

- Azriel has a lot of shit going on that we’re going to be able to see in this book.

- Azriel’s song is Mr. Brightside for the vibes. Not necessarily the lyrics. SJM is kinda obsessed with him and telling his story in the future.

- We’re getting to see more of Azriel’s cheeky humor in this one.

 - SJM can’t wait to see theories after everyone reads Azriel’s pov. There’s a lot of crumbs that have been scattered around for his journey.      [ref]

It is safe to say that in her own words Sarah is obsessed with Azriel, which gives us a good idea about who she wants to write about next. This is the same vibe we got off her when she was introducing Rowan to the TOG universe and I think it is a pretty easy assumption to believe the next book is Elain’s too.

Not to mention SJM is not afraid to shake it up and swap out the LI you think it will be, Chaol/Rowan & Tamlin/Rhysand. It is not far fetched to think she would do the same with Elain and Lucien. Not to mention the idea of such a repetitive story ARC like Mates (after Feysand and Nessian) could easily be avoided by doing something like a rejected-bond or second bond.  

I really could not tell you what I think Azriel’s ARC/what he is dealing with is because we have so little information on him all I know is I cannot wait to read it all. He is easily one of my favourite characters, he is so mysterious to us. 

I think Elain’s ARC is going to be all about choice. And we know from SJM that you can have more than one mate.

Elain said, her voice breaking. “It means nothing. I don’t care who decided it or why they did—”“You belong to him.”“I belong to no one. But my heart belongs to you.”

“to my sister and the shadowsinger in the garden—“that is what she needs? Is there no free will? What if Lucien wishes the union but she doesn’t?”

As far as I am concerned if you look at all SJM couples from all her books there is always that initial Spark™ and I think that impartially if you look at Elain and Lucien they have not had it at all (bar maybe the moment he scents the bond), Elain is completely disinterested in him. In the bond as a whole.

“if it wasn’t for Vassa.” A twitch of the lips, a spark in that russet eye. “She’s doing well enough. Savoring every second of her temporary freedom.”

Azriel mastered himself enough to say, “Thank you.” I’d never seen his hazel eyes so bright, the hues of green amid the brown and gray like veins of emerald.

See? SPARK, literally and figuratively.

You could even argue that she was you know, really struggling at the time the bond snapped in to place so it wasn’t the time for them but then we are given Azriel as a mirror to the situation and we see despite her troubles she is capable of interacting with someone without disinterest. Can and has been attracted too, can smile and laugh with someone despite being upset over Graysen.

Examples;

“You’re welcome to stay for the night,” I said, since Elain certainly wasn’t going to. Lucien lowered his hands into his lap and leaned back in the armchair. “Thank you, but I have other plans.” I prayed he didn’t catch the slightly relieved glimmer on Elain’s face.”

“Azriel smiled faintly. “Would you like me to show you the garden?” But Elain did not balk from him, did not shy away as she nodded—just once. Azriel, graceful as any courtier, offered her an arm.

“And do what?” “Spend time with her.” “I don’t think she’ll tolerate two minutes alone with me, so forget about two weeks.” His jaw worked as he studied the fire.”

Elain sat silently at one of the wrought-iron tables, a cup of tea before her. Azriel was sprawled on the chaise longue across the gray stones, sunning his wings and reading what looked to be a stack of reports—likely information on the Autumn Court that he planned to present to Rhys once he’d sorted through it all. Already dressed for the Hewn City—the brutal, beautiful armor so at odds with the lovely garden. And my sister sitting within it.

“You as well.” A sidelong glance toward Elain, swift and fleeting. “Both of you.” Elain said nothing, but at least she bowed her head in thanks.”

Azriel and Elain remained in the sitting room, my sister showing him the plans she’d sketched to expand the garden in the back of the town house, using the seeds and tools my family had given her tonight. Whether he cared about such things, I had no idea, but I sent him a silent prayer of thanks for his kindness before Rhys and I slipped upstairs.

“There were only a few presents left—Lucien’s. [...] I handed Elain the small box with her name on it. Her smile faded as she opened it. “Enchanted gloves,” she read from the card. “That won’t tear or become too sweaty while gardening.” She set aside the box without looking at it for longer than a moment. And I wondered if she preferred to have torn and sweaty hands, if the dirt and cuts were proof of her labor. Her joy.”

“He cares for you.” “He doesn’t know me.”

“You don’t give him the chance to even try to do so.” Her mouth tightened, the only sign of anger in her graceful countenance. “I don’t want a mate. I don’t want a male.” 

“You are his mate. Do you even know what that means?” “It means nothing,” Elain said, her voice breaking. “It means nothing. I don’t care who decided it or why they did—”“You belong to him.”“I belong to no one. But my heart belongs to you.”

Again like I said, textually when we look at it all together Sarah is not exactly planting the seeds for them at all, now of course there is still time for that to change, and of course we only have a limited perspective but as a reader it doesn’t come across positively. Even if you consider Nessian who have been against each other from the start have had the seeds planted, even as they argued they had tension and emotion.

Sarah has given Elucien so little of anything positive or negative comparitively, it is like the are barely registered. 

Not to mention she puts across Azriel as a candidate time and time again, and as a writer you would not do that for nothing.

“She doesn’t need anything,” Azriel answered without so much as looking at Lucien.

“You know them better than I do. But I will say that Lucien is loyal—fiercely so.” “So is Azriel.”

“Why not make them mates?” I mused. “Why Lucien?” “I’d keep that question from Lucien.” “I’m serious.” I turned toward him and crossed my arms. “What decides it? Who decides it?”

“What if”—I jerked my chin toward the window, to my sister and the shadowsinger in the garden—“that is what she needs? Is there no free will? What if Lucien wishes the union but she doesn’t?”

SJM is sowing doubt at every turn. Then to top it off we are introduced to Vassa through Lucien, and now we finally see him have a spark, blush, and speak of her with almost worship as Feyre points out.

“I …” Lucien fumbled for the words. Not out of some lie or excuse, I realized a moment later. Realized when he said, “I’ve been at the Spring Court every now and then. But if I’m not here in Velaris, I’ve mostly been staying with Jurian. And Vassa.”

“Not for long—not if Vassa has anything to do with it.” “You sound like an acolyte.”

Lucien blushed, glancing at Elain. “She’s got a foul temper and a fouler mouth.” 

Now, I can understand the belief that Elucien could be endgame but you simply cannot deny that before that Elriel & LucienxVassa is going to have to be explored to a degree. 

“Az ran a hand through his dark hair. “Are we …”Unusual for him to stumble with words. “Are we supposed to get the sisters presents?”

“I …” Lucien fumbled for the words. Not out of some lie or excuse, I realized a moment later. Realized when he said, “I’ve been at the Spring Court every now and then. But if I’m not here in Velaris, I’ve mostly been staying with Jurian. And Vassa.”

We also see both couples paralleled. I mean in all honesty I could go on and on and on, there is so many qoutes that I could add but this will just get longer and longer. I am going to link my full Elriel Analysis, and some other stuff about them and rejecting the bond below.

As for our fox boy Lucien!

I really like him, and I do feel like he has a very interesting journey ahead, between his true paternity, Vassa and the mating bond he has a lot coming up for him. I am excited to see where the band of exhiles might take us, despite Feyre’s mockery I am excited that after so long of not belonging anywhere he may have found people to call his own.

Look if Elucien happens after a genuine build up, I will be happy to read their journey, of course I will be very disappointed for Elriel because I truly believe they are the best fit but I am not against Elucien if anything I think Sarah is, more than anyone else.

Like I said I could go on for years, and honestly in 9 days hopefully we have a better idea of the future to base our opinions on. 

I am tagging this Anti-Elucien, not that I feel it is but I don’t want Elucien shippers to have to see it, so if they blacklist the tag the can avoid the negativity ❤︎

[Elriel Meta] [Elriel Kindred Spirits] [Elriel Choice 1 & 2] [Garden] [Thoughts]

[nightswithkookmin]

G I R L

I just saw y the HYBE x Ithaca Holdings video and it really hit me with some realisations. HYBE partnering with them is bound to change some things in a huge way. Collabs and economics notwithstanding, Ithaca is home to NUMEROUS big name artists. I want to focus on the fact that: (1) Beiber is a heavily tattooed dude, I wonder if this fact will give some leeway for Kook to be a bit more free with his existing tatts or allow him to continue getting more. (2) Demi is an openly queer woman. This, along with how open Ithaca’s artists are with their support for the LGBTQ+ community, makes me wonder how it will influence HYBE artists who might be queer themselves (looking at Jikook 👀). I fully know that culturally Korea is its own thing and HYBE its own entity, but I think this might open up some doors for our boys both musically speaking as well as regarding their own selves. Dearest Goldy of mine, what do you think?

Hmmmmmmm

That's an interesting question.

I do agree that this provides a huge economic opportunity for BTS as a group and as investors in Hybe and for frankly anyone within Hybe labels- there's a lot of talents who would kill to be part of this company now. I just know it.

Hell I wanna be part of Hybe and I can't even sang. Lmho.

Cute, if you think I can dance. 🤣🤣🤣🤣

BigHit just got cooler you know.

But I think you are basically asking if this new acquisition will in effect impact the lifestyle of BTS, specifically Jikook as queer people in any way?

I'd say no- especially on the issue of tattoos. But I might be wrong. I just think it takes more than a business merger to undo a person's lifestlye and or socialization or even influence it.

Unless of course, this merger guarantees them certain universal rights and protections outside their culture and political system I don't see how it's to profit them as queer people in any major way.

Whatever impact I'd say is rather intangible.

If you know what I mean.

I've said a few times now how BTS by virtue of their presence in the international community, in my opinion, are socialized and are expected to be socialized a tad differently from the average regular conservative or even liberal S. Korean person with no external influences whatsoever on their socializations.

Your socialization informs your lifestyle.

Justin, Troye, RM and other artists have undoubtedly had and perhaps continue to have an influence on Jk musically and lifestyle wise, to some extent, but he has his own unique values and beliefs and morals that has been acquired and instilled in him through the years independent of these influences.

He is his own person afterall.

Plus did you see the arm sleeve on the director of the MV for Home? He is surrounded at the work place with people that are tatted too. It can't be just Justin B.

He saw a girl with tattoos and said that was something he'd love to have one day when he got of age and he got it- in spite of Suga's objection. He's always expressed interests in tattoos and wanting to become a tattoo artist.

He got these tattoos in spite of the inconveniences they pose to his expressions of self within his career and society- as tattoos are still pretty much stigmatized in S.K and aren't legally allowed on certain broadcasts within S. Korea. And he continues to add on them, draw over them etc way before this merger came into existence.

If he decides that's what he wants he will get them but it wouldn't be because Justin Bieber is heavily tatted or because his company expanded.

I'm not sure what you mean by leeway, but in a recent Run episode (the one with the famous chef) we saw his full arm out and I think that was the first time we had seen his tats on full display on run.

Contrastingly, he had his whole arm bandaged in the Let's BTS interview on KBS.

He covers his tattoos most times because of broadcast rules that prohibits (regulates) not just tattoos but alcohol consumption, cussing, nudity etc on public television that require specific ratings.

Merger or not he will still have to adhere to the laws of South Korea, including entertainment and media broadcasting laws and hide his tattoos as and where.

On the topic of queerness, I think now more than ever BTS would have to become socially, racially and culturally conscious and aware the instant this deal is concluded in May.

Ithaca has one of the most diversified group of artists under its belt- from Quavo who is black to Demi who is queer like you pointed out.

Now more than ever they are at the center of the global conversations we are having in our generation- from racism, to LBGTQ plus marginalizations, to all oppressions of minorities and minority groups.

And with that proximity comes a need to keep themselves in check now more so than ever- which include a check on the cultural appropriation bit, the queer baiting, drawing on queer aesthetics in their 'fan service' culture and other problematic issues that is characteristic of KPop.

What they do now matters more than ever- socially speaking of course.

When Jin started eating a lollipop JM gave him provocatively, JM asked him not to do that on camera but to reserve things like that for the group off camera.

If 'gay' is not gay but their 'culture' I think they know better to keep it to themselves off camera and act 'right' on camera- especially now.

I'm not about to stan a group that capitalizes on the trauma and oppression of me and my people in the name of entertainment. That's just tacky.

On the plus, I think it's great that they be surrounded by other queer folks in the business and be part of a community that welcomes and support queerness so they don't feel like they are the only ones.

That's not to say they aren't surrounded by queer people in their dialy lives.

I mean they have a large staff and I know damn well some of those staffers are queer as well- why wouldn't they be. Lol.

They've always had that 'supportive' environment to foster their relationship- well except for that one time a manager tried to bitch slap JK. Lol. Sorry.

It's not funny at all. Serious face.

They've always been free and loose in places outside Korea- Japan for one, to be themselves in certain 'controlled" areas of their lives.

I think if anything there's gonna be a focus on creating conducive and inclusive work environments and ethics for everyone not just queer people within the company at large.

I think Jikook can relate more, have certain essential conversations in the group, be exposed to and be part of the 'community' in a way that just felt so distant to them prior to the acquisition- in my opinion.

There is strength in numbers after all. Other than that those two companies might operate like night and day with a few eclipses in between.

The bigger question for me is how SK is going to react to Hybe as an international company from now on. No elite Korean company has openly admitted queer artists within their label. Such revelations presumably is bound to impact their social and economic standing...

Seems in acquiring Ithaca though Hybe have circumvented the conservative problem within Kpop and their culture as they have acquired openly queer artists.

Not that they care about an artist's sexuality. Bang have made it perfectly clear he prioritizes a person's talent over their sexual preference and thus hire artists based on their skills regardless of their sexuality.

But that is also not to say that the company wouldn't be met with harsh criticisms and suffer economic loss should they openly admit the sexuality of certain artists they work with.

I mean he did advise Jo Kwan on the risks he would be taking in going in the direction he wanted to go in with his heels schtick. So he is aware of the risks involved in going public with an artist's sexual orientation.

He talked about Korean companies playing it safe and not taking certain risks especially when it comes to deeds that are deemed 'rebellious' against the Korean conservative way.

-Watch and learn people, if you can't hire openly gay talents acquire their company. Problem solved. Lol.

From May, Hybe will technically officially become the first elite Korean company with openly queer artists under its labels that openly touches on and advocates for LGBTQ plus rights.

I'm waiting for Pride month with a cup of tea. Mu haha ha.

BTS has performed with queer artists in the past, dabbled in LGBTQ plus conversations which was mostly met with mixed reactions from the general public- some oblivious to who these artists were much less that they were queer. (Sis laugh with me. Hehe. If you know you know)

BigHit is gradually evolving the status quo.

It's an interesting development I must say, one I'm very much invested in at this point.

BigHit has always aimed beyond the borders of Korean commercial verse often straddling the line of conservatism, literally just became an international company within South Korea governed by both Korean and American laws that in all essence conflict with eachother morally and constitutionally.

Bang has some heavy balls I'll give him that.

Also, since this is an acquisition and not a merger I doubt if much will change in the structures of either company- the family photoshoots would be interesting to watch.

Imagine trying to get Arianna, Justin, BTS, TXT in one large studio for a photoshoot. I'm literally cackling. Lmho.

Scooter Braun will become part of the board of Hybe to manage the company and he is part owner of Hybe along with Justin, Ariana and BTS who also have shares in the company- until they decide to sell their shares that is.

That's about it.

I'm not sure how these Asian haters are gonna respond to an Asian company taking over 'America.' That's something to watch out for.

Then there's this whole issue of 'scandals' and both campanies view on it.

Western companies feed off chaos and drama and scandals, Kpop is the exact opposite.

Most of these Artists under Ithaca have had some pretty bad records and are prone to scandals and stuff like that. In case of an inevitable future scandal, the news would read 'BTS's so so and so.'

They are gonna make it all about BTS.

I mean when BigHit went public with their IPO and it went south it was all about BTS' 'failed IPO' in the news rather than the company it's self.

I have mixed feelings about this acquisition.

It's obvious BigHit is saving Justin Bieber's label. You don't sell unless you are in some huge financial decline blah blah.

Hybe is keeping them in business while building their own portfolio in the industry. BTS may not have a Grammy but Hybe has several artists with Grammys under it's belt now. Smirk.

The success of Justin, Ariana and all these artists are the success of Hybe which together with the powerhouse that is BTS gives Hybe more prestige- it's like watching the game of thrones but this time it's a bunch of nerds with chapsticks and Prada. Lmho.

At least now people will think twice before they peddle the 'they are not gay, it's their culture' nonsense.

Not sure if this answers your question?

I purple you💜💜💜💜💜

Signed,

GOLDY

[official-weasley]

Meant to Be (Charlie Weasley x OC)

What happens when Bill brings home a girl and Charlie is completely awestruck by her?

WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol & sex, curse words, angst

CHAPTER 7

Charlie

9 months later…

I woke up to the knock on my door. I put on some pants and went to see who it was.

“Peter, what’s wrong?” I looked at the clock on the wall.

It wasn’t even 5 in the morning.

“I’m just passing by to tell you that you should go to see Ernie before you finish work today.” He was leaning in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. “We are getting 2 new dragons soon and I think we’ll need more people.”

“Sure.” I nodded sluggishly and rubbed my eyes.

“I want to add a person to your team. I know you can handle it but I don’t want you working extra hours when we can expand our crew.” He explained. “What do you need me to do?” I yawned.

“I picked someone with an impressive resume. Ernie will have the paperwork for you to fill out and just make sure you send it back tomorrow morning.”

“No problem. I’ll get it done.” I gave him a thumbs up.

He grinned at me and walked away.

A newbie. This should be fun! I never got to train anyone before. Everyone that I work with was already here before I arrived so I can’t lie that I was excited about this. I knew that Ernie wasn’t in so early in the morning and by the looks of the clouds I wouldn’t be able to see the sunrise today so I decided to go straight to Aami.

He was outside now. He had his own little habitat and everything! His wing never grew as Tina and I hoped it would so he will never be able to fly. He obviously didn’t care as much as I felt bad about it. He was such a cheerful dragon and obedient too. I love every single beast in this reserve but I can’t help to admit that the little Fireball became my favorite. He wasn’t little anymore, he was a head taller than me now but I will always see him as he was in the nursery when I watched him drink chicken blood and brandy.

As I promised Peter I went to the Admission Office after work.

“Hi, Ernie.” I greeted him when I stepped inside.

“Charlie!” He grinned at me.

He was the most cheerful person I will probably ever get a chance to meet.

“Peter said you have some papers for me?” I leaned on the counter.

“Right! The recruit!” He clapped. “Not going to lie, was a bit surprised when I saw it. Don’t tell Peter that I peeked.”

“I won’t.” I chuckled. He placed the papers in front of me. “Any letters for me?”

“Not today, no.” Ernie looked through the pile of envelopes that weren’t delivered yet.

“Have anything to send out?”

“No.” I shook my head. “But I do need to sign these and I need to send them first thing in the morning. When will you be here?”

“At seven. Is that too late?” He scratched his nose.

“No. That’s perfect. Thanks, Ernie.”

I gave him a high-five and said goodbye. I looked through the papers while walking back home and stopped when I saw the name on the application.

Rhylee Pertinger

No way! I took a deep breath. It can’t be her. I couldn’t know for sure because I didn’t even know her last name. There are many Rhylee’s out there, right?

I hurried to unlock the door, placed the pieces of parchment on my kitchen table, and sat down. I went through them. No resume. No details about who she was or where she was from. Just the name. It would be too much of a coincidence if it was her! Merlin can’t mess with me so much.

I was doing good. Not great but good. Considering that Bill barely sent me a letter and that I didn’t see him since that Christmas break, it was safe to say that he knew something.

I never saw Rhylee after that and never spoke to her and I was planning on keeping it that way. Her coming here would be a disaster. I can’t work with her. She can’t be on my team.

Calm down, Charlie. This doesn’t mean anything.

I checked the papers again. She’s arriving in two days. I can’t panic for two days. I was doing so great bottling everything that happened for a year and nine months and I won’t stop now. Even if it is her, nothing has to change.

When we work we rarely speak and since I still remember just how breathtaking she was, I know my co-workers will be all over her so I can just go back to living my normal, busy life.

—

“I think we are all done here.” I looked at my watch. “And with 20 minutes to spare.”

“Wow.” John looked impressed.

“Peter made a mistake recruiting that girl. We are just too good.” Evan looked proud.

“Oh, right! She’s arriving today. Fresh meat!” Theo clapped his hands together.

“Please don’t scare her away.” I shook my head, pinching the bridge of my nose. “You better behave or I will fire you.” They all started laughing and we walked back to the village together to get lunch.

“Are you ready?” Peter came to our table just as we were finishing eating.

“For what?” I said with food in my mouth.

“Your new co-worker. She’s here.” He winked at me.

I got up and followed him to the main gate.

“I am so sorry, Charlie.” Peter put his hand on my shoulder as we were walking.

“What for?” I asked, puzzled.

“You will have a lot of trouble keeping your boys in line for the next few weeks.” He laughed.

“You lost me, Peter.” I wanted to laugh with him but I didn’t know what was so funny.

“I met the girl that’s joining your team. She’s about your age. Very pretty.” He started to explain. “She went to Beauxbatons and decided that Gringotts wasn’t really doing it for her anymore.”

My heart sank.

Gringotts?

Did he say Gringotts?

“Gringotts?” I asked, pretending to not know what he was talking about.

“C’mon, Charlie. We all know they have dragons down there.” He grinned at me. “She said that the work got boring so she applied for a transfer.”

He finally let go of my shoulder. I prayed to Merlin he couldn’t feel me stiffen up. There was no doubt in my mind now that I was right to panic two days ago.

It was her.

She was here.

Why?

I can’t do this. This was my safe place. I didn’t go home for such a long time, because I felt so guilty, that my parents actually came to visit me. And now she was here.

I wish I could say that I forgot all about her but it would be a bold lie. I didn’t. I still think about her from time to time. I still remember the feeling I had when I was with her. I remember every detail of her face and her body as if I saw her yesterday. I hated the feeling in my chest. The happy, excited feeling of seeing her again.

I sucked in a breath and suppressed it. Bottled it down like everything else from that few days at the Burrow.

“You okay?” Peter looked at me.

“Fine. A bit nervous. I am too young to boss so many people around.” I chuckled nervously, hoping he will interpret it as a joke.

“You’ll do fine.” He said with a serious face. “You have been working here for 5 years Charlie and I don’t regret putting you in charge of a team.”

“Thanks.” I smiled faintly.

It meant a lot coming from him.

We arrived at the gate and my legs stopped working when I saw her. I had to use every muscle on my face to keep my jaw from dropping. How could she be even more beautiful than when we first met? My heart started racing and I swallowed hard. This was not good.

She can’t do this to me! Can I fire her before she even starts working?

“Hi, Rhylee.” Peter waved at her and I was finally able to move again. “This is…”

“Charlie.” She grinned.

Was she happy to see me?

“You two know each other?” Peter turned to me.

Great. Now they are going to ask me how I know her. What am I supposed to tell them!

“Kind of.” I said, my voice barely audible.

“You’ll tell me later.” Peter whispered to me and pushed me forward.

Rhylee and I awkwardly shook hands.

Her touch sent shivers down my spine and I couldn’t stop the night we spent together rolling in front of my eyes.

There it was again. That feeling I got when I was around her. The feeling in my chest, pushing me toward her. I hated it. I hated that I couldn’t ignore it.

“I’ll leave you two alone…”

Oh, please don’t.

“And I’ll see you at dinner.” Peter waved at us and walked away.

Okay. Act professionally. You are her boss and she is just going to work here. No big deal, right?

“So, I’ll show you to your cabin first. And then if you’re not too tired I can show you around. Where everything is…you know…dragons…” I couldn’t look at her. I was looking straight ahead but I could feel her eyes on me. “…and stuff.”

I swallowed hard. I don’t think I was ever so nervous.

We walked in complete silence until we reached her cabin. Surprisingly, it wasn’t awkward at all. How could it be that I was enjoying walking through the Reserve with her in silence after not seeing each other for almost 2 years?

I wanted to say something. I wanted to know why she was here. I wanted to ask her why she came here. I wanted to know how she is. But I couldn’t gather up the courage to do it. She didn’t say anything even though I know she glanced at me a few times.

In the end, I decided to just stay quiet. I did say that I won’t talk to her outside work so at least I was doing something right.

“Here are your keys and my cabin’s right over there.” I pointed at the one between the two opposite hers. “We meet every morning around 7 in front of it and we go feed the dragons together.” I handed her the keys and she slowly unlocked the door.

She placed her bag inside and locked the door back up. She put the keys in the back pocket of her jeans, all while looking me straight in the eyes. The expression on her face was as if I was looking at myself in the mirror.

Awestruck but horrified at the same time.

She had to know I still work here. She had to know that we would meet sooner or later. Perhaps she didn’t think that she would be on my team or that I would be her boss.

Well, neither have I so welcome to my club!

We stood there for a few more seconds, looking at each other like idiots, and just as she opened her mouth to say something I gestured for her to move.

“Let me show you around.” I had to stop her from speaking.

I was terrified of what she had to say.

“We have 15 dragons in the Reserve and our team works with 5 of them. Up there…” I pointed my finger at the boulder to our left. “Is our Chinese Fireball, Gorra. Behind that hill is Ogto, our Ukrainian Ironbelly. On the other side…” I turned my head to the right now. “We have Ren the Romanian Longhorn, for which you already heard about.” I swallowed hard when I remembered that she asked me if Ren was my girlfriend. “And right next to his habitat is Bunny, our Common Welsh Green.”

She turned to me and I wished she wouldn’t have that look in her eyes. If it was possible, sparks would fly out of them. She seemed so excited to meet every single one of the dragons I just mentioned.

“The last one is the newest member of our family.” I tore my eyes off hers and turned around. “I don’t know if you’ve heard what happened at the Triwizard Tournament last year at Hogwarts when the Chinese Fireball stepped on her eggs.” She gasped and shook her head. “We only managed to save one egg and since it was cracked he couldn’t evolve properly so he can’t fly.”

“Otherwise, he’s okay?” She whispered.

I just hummed.

“I took care of him and still do. His name is Aami and he isn’t big on trust yet so I can take you to meet him tomorrow but I usually go feed him alone.” I looked at her to see how she will respond.

“I understand.” She said with a gentle voice.

“So in the morning, we feed them. Then after lunch we train them and then before dinner we feed them again.” I explained our daily routine while taking her to see where the Admission Office and the nursery were.

“If you want to work with hatchlings you have to talk to Peter.” We stopped in front of the nursery. “He allowed me to be with Aami before we could move him and I’m in charge of a team so if you have a wish to work with baby dragons I am sure he could do something about it.” I grinned at her.

I couldn’t stop my lips from spreading into one. I was getting soft. Getting comfortable around her again. This wasn’t good. I have to keep it together. But it was so hard. It was so easy to just talk to her even if she barely said anything back.

I know she was just taking everything in. She loved the dragons at Gringotts more than anything and I am sure she couldn’t wait to start working with the ones we have here.

I felt as if she didn’t change a bit. She was still emitting positive energy. She still had that playful look in her eyes. She looked excited and she was just overall a pleasant person to be around. The only thing that changed was the fact that she was nervous and she tried hard to hide it too. It made me feel more at ease but bothered me at the same time as I couldn’t shake the feeling she felt like this because of me.

“Charlie…” She started, her voice barely audible.

“It’s Friday today and we only work tomorrow, we have Sunday off this week.” I interrupted her. I didn’t know what she was about to say but her voice was telling me that she wasn’t about to ask a question concerning her orientation. “You can also work on your days off, of course.” I continued.

I was only doing my job after all.

“On those days you go to Ernie, who works in Admission Office which we passed before and he will appoint you to where they need more hands to help.”

She simply nodded.

I told her everything she needed to know. What am I supposed to do now?

“You must be tired.” I said, looking at nothing in particular behind her. “I’ll let you settle in.” I glanced at her and quickly looked away. I couldn’t deal with the curiosity with which she was looking at me. “On Friday we all usually grab a beer in the tavern. You can come if you’d like.” I blurted.

I was so weak gazing into her eyes. I already knew that her working here is going to be my downfall. I loved my job and I have to do everything to keep her from ruining it for me.

“I’ll see how long I’ll need to finish unpacking.” She smiled shyly. “Emm, could you tell me in which direction my cabin is again?” She looked embarrassed.

It was only natural that she felt a bit disorientated. The Sanctuary wasn’t exactly small.

“Why don’t I accompany you? I have to change anyway.” I offered.

I knew it was a bad idea but I have to be nice to her. She didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not her fault I’m feeling this way. She was my co-worker now and I need to make her feel comfortable at her new workplace.

We walked to her hut in complete silence. The questions of how she is and what she is doing here resurfaced but I didn’t say anything. I could sense that she wanted to speak but thought better of it.

We awkwardly said goodbye and I rushed to my home as fast as I could. I unlocked the door and shut it loudly behind me. I leaned on it and let my body slide down until I could feel the floor beneath me.

This is seriously not happening!

I was panicking again. I didn’t even know why but I knew this wasn’t good. It wasn’t good for me. I have been bottling everything up, hiding my feelings. Pretending that nothing happened, that I didn’t feel guilty about what happened that Christmas. Her being here made all of that come right back up.

All the guilt, all the sensations, all the memories.

The pain of the thoughts of what I did to Bill.

Everything.

I didn’t even know why Bill stopped talking to me. The letters just got rarer and rarer and now I’m lucky I get anything from him and when I do, it’s short and to the point. I miss him. I miss my best friend, my brother. I miss talking to him and telling him everything.

I was too afraid to ask him what was wrong. Too afraid to say something. Mum didn’t mention anything out of the ordinary so I knew he was okay but I knew that our relationship changed.

Did he know what happened between me and Rhylee? He couldn’t. He didn’t even tell me if he ever got around to asking her out that’s how much silence was between us.

I buried my fingers in my hair and started pulling. Why was this affecting me so much? Why did I have to put such pressure on myself? I can’t escape this time. This is my job. I could lie and apparate away from my family but I can’t just pack my bags and leave.

I can’t just run again.

But I can’t face her either. I can’t talk to her about us or how I feel. She can never know. She’d think I’m insane. This is the second time I’m seeing her. She probably forgot all about me.

Yeah!

That’s why she was so shocked when she saw me. She remembered that I worked here. That had to be it. And here I was, pounding my head like an idiot, overthinking everything again.

It’s my fault I feel like this and I have to get my shit together. I have to do it for my job. If I could talk about nothing else than dragons for seven years at Hogwarts and if I could study like an idiot for my O.W.L.s and my N.E.W.T.s to get this job I have to do everything to make myself comfortable and enjoy it as I did before she showed up. I won’t let myself ruin this!

I can’t.

It’s the only good thing I have going for me.

I don’t have a girlfriend. Yes, I did sleep with April three times. And I slept with two other girls but it was meaningless. I felt so empty doing it. It didn’t bring me any joy. It didn’t even come close to what I felt that night with Rhylee. So I just stopped.

I gave up all hope to ever find a girl like her and to be honest, at this point I wasn’t even trying. I’m better off alone. Most of the people here are single.

Why would I have to be the special one? Why would I have a perfect job and find the perfect girl?

I took a deep breath and held it in. I was hoping it would make all the feelings inside me disappear. At least it made me calmer. I took a quick shower and changed my clothes. A part of me wanted to just stay in tonight but I knew my friends would ask questions tomorrow and I can’t have them doing so in front of her.

I closed my eyes before leaving my hut.

You got this, Charlie.

Just breathe.

She’s just a girl.

I locked the door behind me and headed to the tavern.

“You drunk already, Theo?” I joked as I sat down.

“Sober as a Pixie.” He shook his head.

He looked disappointed that he wasn’t drunk.

“What does that even mean?” Asked John as he reached our table.

“I’ll tell you what it means.” Theo gestured for him to sit down next to me.

“Do you know Gerta?” He looked at every single one of us. We all nodded. “I asked her out before coming here.”

I pressed my lips together, trying hard not to laugh. Gerta was the only woman in the Reserve with whom nobody dared to mess. She was taller than all of us and she had strong hands, covered with tattoos. She started working here a little after I did and I always felt so intimidated by her.

“You’re joking!” Andrew shouted.

“You didn’t!” John slammed his hand on the table.

We looked at each other. We couldn’t hold it in anymore. We started laughing.

“And how…” I couldn’t breathe. Theo mentioned on several occasions over the years that he was going to ask her out but never mustered the courage to do so. “How did it go?” I tried keeping a straight face even though I knew I was failing miserably.

“At first she laughed.” Theo looked offended. This was too good. After all these years of teasing me, this was just what I needed today. “Then she slapped me so hard that everything turned dark for a second.”

I have never seen Evan laughing as hard as he was now. John was slamming the table with both of his hands now, making the beer glasses jump. I actually shed a tear, that’s how funny it was as I imagined Gerta slapping the complete shit out of him. I didn’t think anything could make my day today but boy was I wrong. This was priceless.

“Did you at least walk away?” I asked as I wiped away the tear.

“Of course, not! Don’t you know me?” Theo facepalmed himself.

“Oh, no. What did you do?” John asked after finally catching his breath.

“My stupid arse asked her if the slap meant no or was she just kinky.” Our laugher filled the air around us once again.

He didn’t do that! Why didn’t he ask her out in front of us? I would do anything to see that happening!

“And what did she do?” Andrew was holding his stomach.

His muscles probably hurt from laughing as much as mine did.

“What do you think she did?” Theo was now laughing with us. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stop us and was better off joining us. “She slapped me again, on the other side.” He pointed at his left cheek.

“What are you idiots laughing so hard for?” Peter joined us and sat down.

“Theo asked Gerta out.” John managed to say before starting laughing again.

“What?” Peter looked at Theo in disbelief. “You…”

“There’s our new girl, mates!” He interrupted himself and nodded his head behind me, John, and Andrew.

We turned around and Rhylee was awkwardly standing by the bar, waiting for her drink. She was wearing an old oversized t-shirt and still managed to look so cute.

“That’s our new co-worker?” Andrew forgot how to close his mouth.

“How in Godric’s Hollow are you expecting us to do any work around here with her working alongside us?” Evan moaned.

“And guess what?” Peter smirked, looking at me. “Charlie knows her.” They all turned to me. “So I think she’s off-limits.” He winked at me.

“She’s Bill’s friend.” I said quickly.

I didn’t want them to ask any further questions. I already didn’t like the smirks on their faces.

“We made friends with the wrong brother.” Theo shook his head and if he was sitting next to me I would punch him in the gut.

“I don’t buy it.” Evan said.

“Buy what?” John wasn’t paying attention.

“I think Weasley’s lying to us.”

They were on to me.

“Interesting.” Said Theo slowly.

“What’s your theory?” They all turned to Evan.

I wish the ground beneath me would open up and swallow me.

“I believe him that she’s Bill’s friend.” Evan started. “But I don’t think the story ends there.”

I swallowed hard.

Why was I friends with these gits?

“C’mon, Charlie. Tell us.” They blinked at me like a bunch of girls at a sleepover.

“I…”

“Hi.” This was the first time I was glad Rhylee showed up. “I didn’t know where to sit and I only know you two.” Her eyes went from Peter to me.

“I don’t think we were properly introduced.” Theo stood up so abruptly that he banged his knees into the table.

He extended his arm and Rhylee shook his hand.

One by one they all introduced themselves and offered her to sit down. Thank Merlin she didn’t decide to sit down next to me.

“So you transferred here from Gringotts. You have to tell us about the dragons there!” Andrew broke the silence and I could see Rhylee appreciated it.

“I can’t really tell you much.” She smiled. “I am still sworn to secrecy even if I don’t work there anymore.” The boys started whining. “But I can tell you there are three dragons and one of them is an albino.” Her eyes kept escaping to me.

“Albino! Did you hear that, Charlie!” John bumped my shoulder.

I only hummed in response and tried looking anywhere but at her. They all knew one of my life goals was to see an albino dragon.

She told them why they are keeping dragons in Gringotts and what her job was. She told them that she was in charge of her own team and Theo teased me that she might steal my job. She told them about their feeding schedule and that the Norwegian Ridgeback has only been with them for a year and nine months.

A year and nine months.

That’s how long it has been since we last saw each other. And I still remember that she wanted to name the dragon Nyx. I wonder if she chose that name. I hated that I couldn’t ask her. I would give myself away that she is not just Bill’s friend and if I start a conversation with her, I am not sure I’ll be able to stop.

“How come you came here?” Andrew asked her.

“I was having a hard time watching the dragons be so secluded.” She admitted. “And…” She shook her head, stopping herself from finishing the sentence, and gazed at me.

They were all looking at her with raised eyebrows.

There were so many words on her lips that just couldn’t wait to escape her mouth. I knew she wanted to say more but for some reason, I knew she only wanted me to hear what she has to say. I sunk in my seat. I was feeling bad for her. This was as unfair to me as it was to her even though I had no idea what was going through her head.

A pretty girl like her…she has to be with someone. She moved on. Nobody is as stupid as me, obsessing over someone who I can’t be with and for a year and nine months too. For all I know, she could already be married and have a child.

My eyes scanned the fingers on her left hand. I couldn’t stop myself from looking.

No ring.

Why did I feel relief?

Why did I feel good about it?

“It was nice meeting all of you.” She emptied her glass. “I would love to stay and get to know all of you better but I’m quite tired.” They all started mumbling that it’s alright and that they understand as she stood up.

She said good night to us and walked away. I could feel her eyes on me before she walked away but I couldn’t look at her.

I wanted to stand up and run after her. I felt like I was going to burst into flames if I don’t. I wanted to tell her that I still think about her and I wanted to finally tell her how I felt that night. I wanted to bury my face in her hair and wrap my hands around her waist and kiss her so strongly that she would have to hold tight to me not to fall.

“You’re drooling, Weasley.” John whispered to me, disturbing my train of thoughts.

“Okay, now I’m with Evan. She is not just Bill’s friend.” Theo said after she was out of our hearing distance.

“The awkwardness between you two…” Said Andrew.

“And the way she was looking at you.” Continued Peter.

“What happened?”

They all turned to me after John’s question.

“I told you that she is Bill’s friend.” I said through my teeth.

They cornered me. They knew me too well to buy my lie.

“And…” Peter pushed my beer closer to me and gestured for me to say more.

“I can’t.” I said, my voice rusty.

I shook my head. They can’t know. I promised myself I will keep this to myself. That I will never tell anybody. I kept it a secret for so long, I can’t give up now.

“Charlie,” I felt John’s hand on my shoulder, “we’re your mates. What the fuck is going on?”

“Bill brought her home last Christmas. He fancied her.” I blurted out. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I was looking at the beer glass in front of me. I couldn’t look them in the eyes. “We got drunk together while the rest of the family was in the village and we had sex.” And I couldn’t stop talking either.

It felt so good saying it out loud. Admitting it. I told them everything. How Bill doesn’t know or at least I don’t think he does. How guilty I feel and how she made me feel and just how bad I feel that she is here.

Everything that I bottled up for almost two years came running up and I just couldn’t stop talking. I was a rat’s hair away from bursting into tears that’s how many emotions were running through my body but I blinked them away.

It might’ve felt good telling them this but I am not going to cry in front of them. We were drinking beer for fuck sake. We were adults. I’m not going to cry about a girl I barely knew. I already told them too much.

“Bloody hell.” Andrew was the first to speak after a long pause.

I was still staring at my glass. I wasn’t ready to see their expressions.

“Why didn’t you ever tell us about her, Charlie?” John asked gently.

I finally lifted my chin. They all looked like they felt sorry for me, as if they understood where I was coming from, as if they were on my side.

I had to be reading them wrong.

They can’t be.

Don’t they understand what a terrible person I am? What I did to my brother?

“I promised myself I would never tell anyone. I was doing so well. I didn’t think she would start working here.” I admitted.

“Doing well?” Theo scoffed. “You’re miserable, mate.”

I looked at him and then at Peter and Andrew who were both nodding in agreement.

“We might joke around a lot and tease you Charlie, but this is not okay. You still feel guilty after all this time and we can see that it’s tearing you apart.” Evan continued.

“Is she with Bill?” Peter asked carefully.

“I honestly don’t know. I never brought myself to ask.” I shrugged my shoulders. “Bill changed his attitude in his letters soon after and now I’m lucky enough if I even get a response from him. I don’t know how he could find out but it would be the only explanation why he’s not talking to me.”

Saying it out loud hurt.

I felt like I lost my brother.

And for what?

For a girl?

I was ashamed of myself.

“No wonder you never take a day off. You overwork yourself thinking it would help with all your problems.” John sounded disappointed.

“You can’t keep doing this to yourself, mate.” Andrew said gently.

“And what am I supposed to do?” I raised my voice. I didn’t want to talk about my feelings. Everything I felt on Christmas day came right back up but this time, it hurt twice as much. “Do you even know how pathetic I sound that I’m still not over a girl that I spend one night with? What a terrible person I am to sleep with my brother’s girl?” I buried my face in my hands.

“You’re not pathetic. You two had a real connection. Do you know how rare that is?” I looked up at Peter.

“It is?” I said more to myself than to them.

They all nodded.

“We might joke around with women but deep down we all want what Peter has.” Andrew admitted, putting his arm around Peter’s shoulder.

He was the only one of our lot who was married. Who was in a relationship for that matter. I knew that Peter met Tina before I got here and they seemed happy to me but he never really talked that much about her. John told me once that they got married rather quickly but that was pretty much it.

“I have that with Tina,” Peter explained, “what you described, Charlie. And if that’s really how you feel you have to talk to her.” I shook my head.

Was he mental!

What was this?

What happened to us messing around and drinking beer on Friday night? Since when were they giving me relationship advice?

“You have to clear the air otherwise it will eat you alive.” John followed his lead.

“Talk to Bill if you have to. I’m sure he would understand.” Andrew continued.

They were all losing it.

Understand? There is nothing to understand. Everything is clear as a Summer’s day. What am I supposed to do? Apparate to Egypt and say “Hey, Bill. So…yeah…I fancy your girl. You understand right?”

“I don’t know in what fucking fairytale land you are all living in, but this is real life and things are not that easy.” I chugged my beer and slammed the glass at the table.

“They are, Charlie.” Peter tried to convince me.

This was too much. They lost it.

“Stop it!” I shook my head and stood up. “We are not talking about this anymore. Not now, not ever.”

Why did I have to open my mouth?

“Forget about it and I’ll see you tomorrow at seven, okay?” I walked away without looking at any of them.

I felt their eyes piercing through me as I got further away.

I am not going to allow them to feel bad for me. I was the antagonist here. I was the one who made a mistake. I wasn’t allowed to be forgiven. I can’t be. Why couldn’t I just keep my mouth shut? Why did I have to be so honest? And the worst part was, this time I wasn’t even drunk.

[jimlingss]

The Weekend Massacre

➜ Words: 19.7k

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

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

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

cr.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[gryffindorkxdraws]

Want to start off by saying that I love your mind! I was hoping to get your opinion on: what is it in jackunzel that makes it feel so right?

EDIT: changed a few things ehe

ngl i found this challenging cus it made me think of how the answer would vary per person (yeah i went there idk why sdjkknds) so lemme get logical for a sec here haha

what exactly is the definition of “feel right”? 

to make someone feel relaxed and comfortable, as merriam-webster states

simple as that, right? but wait there’s more

what makes something/someone go under that category? 

now from there it expands because there are so many ways of answering that with everyone having different opinions and mindsets.

fair warning before we push on, this is going to get messy (like a word vomit) with how i’m just going to pour out everything i can think off, but just know i really like this question hence the, uh, mess? lmao

so back to your question, what is it in jackunzel that makes it feel so right?

in one POV, it could be because of how rapunzel and jack represent the sun and the moon respectively, making them two contrasting sides who shouldn’t collide and yet, against all odds and opposing forces that would come between them, they did. 

and we can bet on the fact that they fought hard/struggled for it, depending on how fanfic writers play with it (reminds of this sun/moon au that sold me to this trope lmao).

just because others said it’s impossible or it’s against whatever, why should they listen to the “norm?” what even is considered “normal,” when the two can explore so much more of what they could be missing from life after stepping out of others’ shadows?

i just love sun/moon dynamics. i’m obsessed lmao i read the ones below somewhere and idk where but it’s been living in my head rent free and i can’t escape it tho feel free to correct me about any of these symbol topic!

like the Sun, thoughtful and full of energy to share with everyone, is connected with one’s self and known to, yeah, radiate warmth or light. it also symbolizes firmness, strength and power. oh and life too i guess?

while the Moon, subtle but full of mysteries and wonders, can also get emotional and sway others to be more nurturing. cus like it also symbolizes calmness, beauty, and nurture. plus eternity and enlightenment?

the list goes on if we head into more of what it both symbolize, but when these two celestial bodies get together, masculine and feminine energies unite. the Sun gives out life, while the Moon cultivates it.

i have no idea where i’m going but moving on

maybe it’s that taste of rebellion with going against the authorities/society/rules/of what has always been set to find out who they’re meant to be or, y’know, finding their identity without the shackles of others (like jack learning he has the potential to be a guardian and embracing it in his own time, and rapunzel realizing she’s the lost princess and works hard to be a good one), 

or there’s something about the mystery that follows the other because they’ve never met anyone quite like them (like exploring a world they’ve never set foot on), 

or finding all the good and bad in each other and in their differences, but still loving the other for who they are, 

or what one lacks the other makes up for it and vice versa. with or without them realizing they can help each other grow to be a better version of themselves.

opposites attract who are bound to be full of surprises.

but on the contrary, they could also be two peas of a pod. aight this definitely goes against what i said above with all the opposites and stuff, but hear me out.

while they grew up and learned how to cope with life differently, they somehow still share the same sentiments when it comes to, for example, reaching their goals. 

they have their own way to go about it, sure, but my point is they can reach a common ground better together compared when they’re with others.

like rapunzel with the lanterns, and jack with his memories. at first, one hesitated and wavered, while the other disagreed and pulled away. it was only after they saw a chance/realized this was it that they agreed in a heartbeat

they ultimately made the choice of diving in head first regardless of their initial thoughts in the first place. kinda like the moment they realized they can be a step closer to what they’ve been yearning for their whole life 

bam, out of the way, they’re coming through lmao

not only that, but they can also be soft, gentle, understanding despite rapunzel’s spontaneuosness and jack’s mischievousness. we’ve seen them interacting with children and they’re so good at lifting their spirits up to have some fun and that there will always be a tomorrow.

and with their peers too. rapunzel lights up even the darkest of rooms, may it be like fireworks to bring joy or a campfire to warm one’s heart. jack meanwhile keeps things light when everyone else feels tense, easing others to relax and remember there’s always a way out

don’t forget the way they both sacrifice themselves for who they care for. like, they just do that, putting others first before them. that scene of saving eugene and baby tooth aaahhhhdjhdskdjkbkfjdkjf

and when everything comes crashing down and the world feels heavy on their shoulders, they both know they’re not alone with the other there for them.

maybe it’s the mutual understanding they have for each other after opening up, and finding a friend/partner/home through the connection they made together,

or they could be a push and pull that leads them to showing an unexpected side of the other, but in reality they always had it in them and all they needed was someone to show the way,

or how they complement each other, but they’re not two halves of a whole, no, rather they’re already whole themselves and they only reminded each other that they are,

or it’s simply because they don’t feel the need to put up walls or anything of the likes, because they know that no matter what they’ll be accepted for who they are.

opposites who have so much more in common than they originally thought

in another POV it could be because of how they give such partners in crime vibe. lowkey or highkey, take your pick. nothing would stop them from moving forward to a new tomorrow, or honestly whatever it is they put their minds to. 

and i am here for that

like i said in one of my posts, “They were a magnet for trouble, with the Sun being a free-spirited and vivacious fellow, and with the Moon’s knack for mischief and being a rebel without cause.” 

while both are adventurous, ready to explore whatever is out there, all the while just wanting to have some fun, they still balance each other out.

with jack usually ready to do what he needs/wants to do (which helps rapunzel to trust her gut and take the risk. that he’ll be there for her whenever she’s ready to step out of her comfort zone and jump away from her tower)

and with rapunzel knowing how to handle sticky situations properly (which reminds jack that not everything has to be done harshly and abruptly. that while freezing someone could be fun, it won’t solve things in the long run)

am i making sense? idek but you’re stuck with me lol but before i forget and i can’t believe i just remembered now. the way they can help fill in on what the other is missing 

rapunzel wants to see the world, what goes out there, with the people, society, and history i feel. and jack can take her to wherever she wants to go. hell, he’ll even surprise her and bring her to places he’d think she’ll like.

with his experiences, he’s bound to have an endless list of plans for them to go through and it’s no surprise that she’ll love it, and (him) his gesture, nonetheless

jack wants to be noticed by others, to be seen and heard for who he is. and rapunzel is such a welcoming person that she accepts him wholeheartedly. give him the love he was deprived of for years. 

reassure him that even he has a place to call home because why would he be excluded from that? he deserves it just as much as she and everyone else does

also i like to think they brainstorm ideas together

maybe it’s how they’re both game for an adventure, sudden or not, and this makes it easy for them to team up together and take on the world

or the feeling of familiarity as they click and everything flows naturally to them, where nothing is forced or uncomfortable between them

or how it’s like they can hold on to each other, knowing the other won’t let go no matter what because they’ll always have each other through the ups and downs

or it’s in their shared smiles, mischievous sparks in their eyes, moving together to the music of their synchronized heartbeats, as they step forward to the vast unknown

finding the ‘one’ who understands them inside out that they feel at home with them

i’ve said so many things and threw out so many brain rot, but what exactly is my final answer? 

it’s simple: who knows? now before you toss me aside, and i hope not lmao, lemme just say even with that kind of final verdict, you can still find beauty in it. 

you see, there’s so much more to explore and delve into with jackunzel because of their potential, that i don’t want to make a set answer for your question. i’d rather much help you, and anyone else wondering, to come to an answer yourself and maybe even share/discuss it with others.

i’m running out of brain juice, but i at least hope this helped satisfy your curiosity behind your question since this is all i can give… for now, maybe? who knows lmao 

tho i’ll be honest and admit i based these on how i feel about jackunzel. so if ever someone else out there wants to add more points they thought of, feel free to add on this