#red string and cork board out over here

[ghost-onthealtar]

Incredible how after like two or three videos an entire group (of mostly teenage girls) absolutely clocked those two british idiots as gay.

[autistme]

your against me posting has me foaming at the mouth wishing the band was Real. against me is still active TO ME.

LITERALLY. I NEED THEM TO BE REAL AND I WILL PRETEND THAT THEY ARE BY VICARIOUSLY LIVING THROUGH OLD POSTS

[dreaming-medium]

Stray Kids Kinktober Day 10

Stray Kids Kinktober Masterlist

Praise Kink - Hyunjin

Word Count: 11.7K

Summary: As a lead detective in the police department, you've been assigned to solve a serial killer case, but you've hit a point where you can no longer work on the case by yourself. Hwang Hyunjin, the golden child of the police department and your sworn rival, is assigned as your partner.

---------------------------------------

You have officially run out of red string. 

The cork board in the conference room doesn’t have any more open spaces for new leads or clues. You can’t even see the brown of the board anymore. 

Instead of whittling information down, you’ve only come up with more suspects for the case. 

It’s better than the case going cold, sure, but it feels like you’re getting further and further from actually solving the damn thing. 

It also doesn’t help that you not only have Chief Bang breathing down your neck, but the entire city as well. You understand, really, everyone wants a killer to be caught. 

But these sort of things take time. 

And they usually don’t have a million and thirty leads. Typically, you were lucky to have one. 

Everyone in the city has a tip. And you have to check each and every single one. 

Three sharp knocks draw your exhausted attention away from the board. 

“Come in!” You call out. 

The door clicks open and dress shoes click on the floor. 

“I think you’re going to need another cork board soon, Detective.”

Your mood curdles like milk. 

“What do you want, Hwang?”

Hwang Hyunjin, the department’s top detective and your least favorite person in the world.  

Every case he touches is solved. Every last one of them. But maybe— just maybe— it’s because he gets to pick and choose which ones he’s assigned to. 

The golden child of the police department. The biggest, cockiest pain in the ass you’ve ever met. 

He clicks his tongue and walks up to the conference table you’re leaning against. 

“I have a whole new stack of tips for you.” 

The sound of a thick stack of papers hits the table, you cringe. 

You haven’t even finished going through the last stack. 

“And I am once again humbly offering my assistance on this case.”

You look over at him for the first time tonight. His long black hair is pulled back with a few strands dangling in front of his face. 

He wears a pressed dress shirt, black tie, black vest, and slacks. 

Truly, it looks like he popped off a magazine cover and you hate it. 

“And I am humbly declining. I can handle this on my own, thank you.” 

Your own heels click along the floor as you come around the conference table to sit down in front of the first stack of papers. 

Hyunjin shoves his hands in his pockets and meanders closer to the cork board. 

He looks up and down all the different leads, the ever expanding list of suspects, murder weapons, locations. He’s silent for a long moment. 

The only sound in the room is the clock ticking on the wall. 

What time is it anyway? You’ve been here since 4 AM when a call came in about another victim. The bags under your eyes surely look like bruises at this point. 

Since you started on this case two months ago there hasn’t been a single night where you’ve gotten more than five hours of sleep. 

Words are blending together on the paper. Is the sun up?

Warily, you turn and eye Hyunjin, who’s still staring at the cork board. His head cocks to the side as he studies all the different clues littering the surface. 

He takes a deep breath and turns to look at you. You point an accusatory finger at him. 

“No! No, no. You’re not coming in here and solving my case that I’ve been working on for months!”

His mouth shuts, a smirk appears. 

Oh, you want to smack it off his face. 

“I was only going to say—“

“No! Nothing! I do not need your help! Get out of here!” You shoo him away. 

“L/N—“ he tries again. 

“Shut it!”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes and sucks his teeth while making his way to the door. 

You glare daggers into the back of his head, praying that a ceiling tile will miraculously fall and crush him. 

He grabs the door handle and walks into the hallway. Right before the door closes, he peeks his head in through the crack. 

“The killer is ambidextrous,” he says in a sing-songy voice. 

A frustrated, muted scream tears from your throat and you hurl the nearest object— which happens to be a metal cup full of pens and pencils— at the door. 

It shuts before the cup makes contact. 

Hyunjin’s laugh comes through the closed door and it only makes your blood boil more. 

You slam your head down onto the wood desk. 

“Of course he’s ambidextrous.”

---------------------------------------

“Detective L/N,” Chief Bang’s head pokes into the conference room. “Can I see you in my office please?”

You haven’t gone home yet. You’re in the same clothes as yesterday except now they’re more wrinkled. 

Nodding, you put down your pen and tell your chief you’ll be there in a minute. 

He hums and leaves the room. 

You rub the heels of your palms into your eyes to try and get the exhaustion out of them. 

About 100 ounces of coffee is flowing through your body but it’s doing nothing to wake you up, all it’s doing is increasing your heart rate. 

To anyone else who wanders through your police department, they might think you’ve escaped the morgue.

The walk to Chief Bang’s office was short. 

As soon as you step inside, your heart sinks. 

The chief sits behind his desk, but that’s not why your stomach turns. 

Hyunjin takes up one of the chairs, another freshly pressed suit on his body. 

The man is flawless and it makes you want to become a suspect for one of your cases. 

“Take a seat, detective.” Chief Bang motions to the other empty chair. 

Hyunjin looks up at you, arms crossed over his chest. A smug smirk pulls on his lips as he takes in your disheveled appearance. 

You tongue your cheek for a moment and flip your hair over your shoulder before sitting down. Your fingers iron out deep wrinkles in your pencil skirt. 

You try to maintain some level of pride. It’s comical, really.

“Now, I’ll cut right to the chase here, Y/N, it’s not that I don’t trust your abilities as a detective, I do.”

You deflate. 

“But this case is becoming too much for one person.”

Your jaw clenches. 

So badly you want to refute that claim, to tell Chief Bang that you have it handled, it’s no big deal. But that’s a lie and you both know it. 

And the smug asshole next to you definitely knows it. 

“Detective Hwang has kindly offered his assistance on the case, so I’m assigning him as your partner on this.”

You think for a moment. “Can I get a different partner? I think Detective Kim just closed his last case, meaning he’s available to help.” 

“Detective Kim started a new case this morning.”

“Detective Lee?”

“Busy.”

“Officer Yang?”

“He’s not even a detective.”

“What about Detective Seo?”

Chief Bang stays silent, deadpan eyes watch you. He cocks his head to the side. 

You sink back in the chair. 

“I specialize in homicide cases, L/N.” Hyunjin pipes up from next to you. “I’m the best one for the case and you know it.”

“Zip it, Hwang.”

Hyunjin scoffs. 

Chief Bang rolls his eyes, his patience obviously wearing thin. “Y/N, I’m going to need you to swallow your pride for the sake of the city. There’s a murderer on the loose, remember? You’re my top detectives, it would be stupid not to partner you together.”

You can’t meet his eyes, you look off to the side, crossing your arms over your chest. Anxiously, your leg begins to bounce.

“Put your personal feelings aside, Y/N.”

Silence falls over the room. Both of the men wait for you. 

It really doesn’t feel like you have a choice, here. Obviously, you don’t. 

“Fine.”

“Great!” Hyunjin taps his hands on the arms of the chair and then pops up. “I’m going to need access to all the files you’ve been looking at these past two months as well as the extra key to the conference room.”

He grabs his trench coat off the back of the chair. 

“I’ll also need you to catch me up to speed on the latest tips from civilians; you did have time to read those last night, right? Additionally, I think we should rearrange our hours so that we’re on duty together until this is solved.”

He makes his way towards the door. 

“Come on, L/N! We’ll discuss over coffee.”

You stare at Chief Bang. He offers you a slightly amused, slightly sympathetic smile. 

“Best of luck, detectives.”

---------------------------------------

The hot mug rests between both of your shaky hands. Hyunjin sat across from you in a large diner booth. 

Files littered the entirety of the top of the table. It’s all things you’ve seen before and practically have memorized by now. 

You explained everything you knew to him from the beginning, sparing no detail. 

College girls were all found murdered in their dorms. No security footage of anyone going in or out of the building that doesn’t belong there. 

Each victim is about two weeks apart. 

A half eaten fruit cup sits next to your coffee. ‘Fruit cup’ is a loose term since more than half of it was honeydew melon. 

Why can’t they just throw a few strawberries in there? Slice up a banana or toss a few blueberries in? They already have the fruit in the back for the pancakes, it would be so easy to—

“I don’t think this victim is from the same killer.”

Your head snaps up and you glare at Hyunjin. “Who?”

He slides the file across the table to you. “Andrea Bowman. She doesn’t fit the same profile as the other victims. All the others were blonde, Andrea has brown hair.”

You sip at your coffee, glazed eyes scanning the file. You’re simply too tired to keep up the anger.  

“I had thought the same thing at first. But according to the coroner, her time of death would put her as the first victim of the killer, first victims of serial killers tend to not fit the profile of the rest since it’s the first taste.”

Her autopsy stares up at you. 

“Plus, everything else is consistent with the rest, bruised wrists and ankles and a slit throat. They’re all college aged girls who went to the local community college.”

You slide the crime scene photos around, taking in all the details. 

“Maybe she wasn’t his victim.” One of her school photos peeks out from the bottom of the stack, you pick it up and look at it solemnly. “But something tells me she was his first.”

Hyunjin watches you closely, any rebuttal he had died on the tip of his tongue. 

Plates clatter in the kitchen.  

Your nose scrunches and you pack away Andrea’s file. 

“You said they all go to the same school?”

“Yeah, the community college.”

“Did they all study the same thing?”

You shake your head, taking another sip of coffee. “Nope, all different fields of study, all different extracurriculars. They didn’t even live in the same dorm building.”

Hyunjin leans back against the booth and picks up his iced coffee, taking a long sip while staring out the window. 

Your fingers run through your hair. “I requested their transcripts and class schedules from every year but I’m waiting on all those requests to process. With how slow the registrar’s office is taking you would swear they didn’t want this case solved.”

“Red tape always gets in the way.” Hyunjin reaches down in his pocket and takes his phone out, tapping a few buttons and then holding it up to his ear. 

You cock an eyebrow at him, he only holds up a finger at you. You scoff. 

“Dianne? Hi, it’s Hyunjin!… I’m doing so well, and you? … That’s great to hear! … Yes, yes those homemade cookies were to die for.”

Your mouth falls open a bit. Who in the hell was he talking to? Homemade cookies?

Throwing your hands up in front of your face, you give him a flabbergasted look. 

He narrows his eyes at you and gives you a look that says ‘be quiet’.

“Listen, I was actually calling to cash in a favor, I have a list of students I need transcripts and schedules of for a case. … I can email it over to you, it’s for the— … yes, yes that one.”

You slow blink at him. Does he have a contact at the registrar’s office? Of course he does, why wouldn’t he have one?

The golden child strikes again. 

“You’re a darling, Dianne, thank you. I’ll send it to you asap. … of course, say hello to Rob for me. Bye!”

He hangs up and puts his phone back on the table. 

Hyunjin takes one look at your face and shrugs. “What? I helped her with a personal matter when I was a P.I.”

If you roll your eyes anymore, they’ll go into the back of your head. 

“So do you have a list—“

You interrupt him. “Yeah.”

“Can you—“

“Mhmm.”

You finish your coffee and reach into your purse, digging out a ten dollar bill and tossing it onto the table. 

“Where are you going?” He asks you. 

“Home,” you respond simply while shuffling out of the booth. “I haven’t slept since Monday.”

Hyunjin looks down at the various files on the table. “What about the list?”

You move the files around and pull out one of the papers and place it in front of him. 

“It’s right here. I’ll see you tomorrow, Hwang.”

“Tomorrow? But what about—“

“If Dianne gets the list back to you, just forward it to me. I’ll look at it when I wake up.” Your voice is full of venom. 

“I really think we should look at it together.” His eyes narrow. “We’re partners on this, remember?”

“As if you would even need my help,” you spit out. “By the time I come in tomorrow, you’ll probably have the entire case solved, the perp arrested, and all the paperwork done before I even pour my coffee.”

The more you talk, the more your anger levels rise. You lean over him in the booth, one of your hands on the back of the seat to keep you balanced. 

Hyunjin’s eyes widen and he leans back as you go forward. 

“The golden boy will strike again, solving a case that I’ve been working on for months and getting all the credit. Because that’s just how good you are. Mr. Perfect. Everything about you is just amazing.”

He gulps and shifts around. A red tint creeps up on his face. 

And for the first time since you met him, Hwang Hyunjin is speechless. His mouth opens to say something several times but no sound comes out. 

“Now. If you’ll excuse me.” You stand back up and turn on a heel, leaving the diner and a very flustered detective behind. 

---------------------------------------

Knock after knock after knock after knock bangs on your apartment door. 

You’re not sure of how long whoever’s been knocking has been at it, but it takes you a solid thirty seconds to wake up fully. You had peacefully drifted into a very deep sleep the moment your head hit the pillow. 

The entire bedroom is pitch black, the sun no longer in the sky. The clock on your nightstand displays that it’s around 1 AM. 

“What the fuck?” You slur out. It’s so hard to open your eyes right now. 

The knocking persists.

With all the grace of a drunken newborn deer, you slither out of bed and make your way to your front door. 

You flip on a light on your way there. 

Staring through the peephole, a frown pulls at your face as soon as you see who’s banging on your door at this ungodly hour. 

You rip the door open, startling Hyunjin. His hand still hangs in the air when you open it. 

“Finally!” He shoves past you and into your apartment. 

“No, please, come on in.” You growl and shut the door, securing all the locks in place again. 

Behind you, you hear him slam a stack of papers onto your kitchen island. 

“I forwarded you the transcripts hours ago but you didn’t answer.”

“I told you I would look at them when I woke up.”

He takes in your disheveled appearance with judging eyes. Your hair was all frizzy and out of place, a loose t-shirt hung off one shoulder and was so big you couldn’t see the shorts underneath. 

His Adam’s Apple bobs with a swallow. 

It was obvious he wasn’t used to seeing you in such a relaxed state. He was still wearing his dress pants from earlier, but he only had a dress shirt on with his trench coat over the top. 

“You’re awake now, aren’t you?” He looks back down at the stack of files and opens them up, spreading papers everywhere. 

You come up to the table and look down at everything. 

Semesters of different class schedules stare back at you. Some have highlighted portions, others are still blank. He seems to have given up in the middle of doing it himself, opting to bring it here. 

You tongue your cheek, looking over what you can see so far.

It’s going to be a long night.

“I’ll make coffee.”

---------------------------------------

Hours have passed, the sleepiness and weariness of being woken up has been replaced by the delightful thrum of caffeine in your veins.

After about a half an hour of going through the transcripts, you quietly asked Hyunjin if he was alright with you playing music softly. 

He stared at you with wide eyes, “Ah, yeah, of course, that’s fine.”

You cocked an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m just… not used to you asking for permission before doing something.”

Grumbling, you rolled your eyes and picked your phone up to scroll through playlists. You settled on a calmer one full of music from artists like Lord Huron and Tom Rosenthal. 

Since then the two of you have been silently going through each schedule. 

Biting the end of the highlighter absentmindedly, you study the class schedule. 

“I’m only seeing one similarity.” You say out loud. Hyunjin looks up. “This one class, it’s a gen ed Physics class. But each of these girls took it, all at different times though.”

“Which class?”

“PHYS 100. Same Professor– Dr. Furon.”

“Do you think we should bring the professor in for questioning?” he asks.

“Couldn’t hurt. Right now he’s the only common denominator. Is it anywhere on your transcript?”

Hyunjin flips through the pages. “Yep, right here, her freshman spring semester back in 2020.”

You pull out a sticky note and write down that info. 

“Can you go through each one and tell me when they took the course?”

Hyunjin gathers all the stapled packets of papers up. “Yeah.”

---------------------------------------

You and Hyunjin stood shoulder to shoulder looking through the one way glass. 

A near ninety year old man sat on the other side. 

“So,” Hyunjin says to break the silence. 

“So.”

“It can’t be him.”

“Obviously.”

Another long moment of silence. 

He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Do you want to question him or should I?”

You sigh, watching as the professor fidgets with a loose string on his sweater sleeve. The officers had completely forgone the handcuffs, allowing him to sit at the table freely. 

They also rolled in a comfier chair and gave him a cup of coffee. 

“My case. I’ll do it.”

“ Our case.”

“Shut it, Hwang.”

You make your way into the interrogation room with a notepad tucked under your arm. 

The professor looks up as soon as you open the door. He shakily stands up from his seat with proper manners. 

You smile gently. “Dr. Furon, thank you so much for taking the time to come down.”

Both of you shake hands before sitting down. His grip is not firm whatsoever. 

Arthritis. 

“Oh, it’s no matter. Happy to be of help.”

You place the notepad down and scoot your chair in. “I’ll get right to it since I can see you’ll be our best help here. When analyzing the list of victims, we saw that each of them had taken your class before. It’s a small lead, I know, but it’s too much to sweep under the rug.”

He nods, listening carefully. He blanches and leans back. “I didn’t realize I had each of them. There are so many students in each section, there’s not enough time to learn names.”

He shakes his head. 

“I had recognized a few in the paper, but I try not to do too much digging, it hurts too much to look into. I don’t know how you detectives do it.”

You reach across the table and grab his hands warmly. “I feel the same way about physics, I don’t know how you do it. All those equations.”

Dr. Furon cracks a smile. “Someone has to. But I do have help with all my courses. Each student has a specific discussion section once a week with a smaller class size, but they’re all taught by graduate students.”

You jot that down on your notebook and lean your chair back. You knock once on the window.

“On it.” Hyunjin’s muffled voice comes through the glass. 

“Just one more question, Dr. Furon, I won’t take up any more of your time, this has been very valuable. Are there any students or people that you come in contact with that maybe trigger some alarm bells or a gut instinct?”

He shifts around, he really thinks about it. 

“I really can’t think of anything, detective, I’m sorry. The girls’ names that I recognize were normal students too, granted they weren’t the best, but I do know they were doing their very best. Breaks my heart.”

You scribble that down and stand up. 

“Thank you very much for your time, Dr. Furon. We greatly appreciate your help.”

He nods and stands up as well. “Of course, if I can do anything else, please give me a call.”

“If you think of anything else, here’s my card.” You reach across the table and hand him a small business card. 

You showed the professor out of the room, asking if he needed anything. He patted your arm sweetly before leaving. 

When you turn around, Hyunjin is standing there, waving a file around. 

You roll your eyes. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

---------------------------------------

Your apartment has become the unofficial meeting place for both you and Hyunjin once your shifts are over. The department wasn’t great for concentration. 

They say not to take work home with you, but your home is so much cozier. 

It’s only about 8 PM. Takeout containers take up a small portion of the kitchen island. 

Another pot of coffee is brewing. 

“So, between the victims, there are five different graduate students that taught their discussion sections. And one of them graduated last year.” Hyunjin flips through his notes. 

You run your hands through your hair. 

“So, four graduate students.”

“Yep.” He pops the ‘p’. 

“Do we have any information on the four students?”

“No, but we have enough cause to bring them down to the station for questioning.”

You sigh and pick up your phone. “Let’s do that, then.”

A message is sent off to Chief Bang, he replies immediately saying he’ll contact them immediately and have them brought in and that he’ll call you when you can come in. 

“I just don’t think it was any of the graduate students.” Hyunjin adds, sliding papers around to grab a victim’s file. 

“I agree.”

He doesn’t seem to hear you. “Two of the graduate students are women— women don’t commit murders like this, the other two are masters in their field with promising careers.”

“I know, I agree with you, Hwang.”

“And I just don’t think that— wait, you agree?”

You stare at him with a blank expression. “Yes, I agree with you.”

He shifts around on the seat. His mouth opens and closes a few times before actually speaking. “You agree?”

Rolling your eyes, you place the papers down on the table. “Hwang, you know I would rather die than agree with you, but in this case, yes, I agree, I think you’re right.”

“Oh.”

Looking back down at the papers, you absentmindedly read a sentence in one of the witness statements. “I know you get the job done, I’m not going to put personal feelings before a case.”

Hyunjin fidgets more. “So, you think I’m a good detective?”

Is he serious?

You roll your eyes, still not looking up. “Yes, Hwang. Chief Bang has proclaimed you as one of the greatest detectives— everyone at the station knows that.”

“I just didn’t think you thought that way.”

“I’m not here to stroke your ego, Hwang.”

He clears his throat and shifts forward on his chair. “But do you , Y/L L/N, think I’m a good detective?”

Putting the paper down on the counter, you look up at him with a cocked eyebrow and a frown. “Really? Do your work.”

“Not until you say it.” He smirks and crosses his arms over his chest. 

Rolling your eyes, you look down once more. What was on this page again?

“Choke.”

Hyunjin takes a breath to say something, but your phone lights up with a call at the same time. Expecting it to be Chief Bang, you answer quickly. 

“Detective L/N.” 

“Detective!” An old voice comes from the other line. You pull your phone back to look at the unknown number and then bring it back to your ear. 

Hyunjin’s attention peaks at your confusion.

“It’s Dr. Furon, I apologize for calling so suddenly.”

“Oh, hi Doctor, it’s no trouble at all.” You look around for your notepad. 

“Put it on speaker,” Hyunjin hisses while leaning forward. You shoo him off. He reaches forward to grab the phone from you, you smack his hand. 

“I remembered something I didn’t get a chance to say earlier, I’m so sorry I didn’t think of it,” Dr. Furon continues. 

“That’s quite alright, it’s the reason I gave you my number. Now, what is it?” You grab a pen and a random piece of paper. 

Hyunjin reaches again, you smack his hand once more. “Speaker!” He grumbles again. 

Dr. Furon talks, unaware of the petty brawl happening on the other line. “All of the students that are struggling in my class, I point them to the tutoring center in the library. As far as I remember, the names that were in the paper, the ones I recognize at least, they were going to the tutoring center.”

Your eyes widen and you write it down quickly. 

Hyunjin’s patience wears out, he stands up from the counter and comes around to your side, his face dipping down to press his ear to the other side of the phone. 

“Is there only one tutor available for your class?” you ask, jotting down notes. 

“I’m not sure, I’m sorry. You know, now that I think of it, on their final exams, I give extra credit if they write down that they went to tutoring and name their tutor.”

“Do you have those exams?” Hyunjin asks into the phone. You reach over and flick his forehead. He swats your hand away. 

“Oh, Detective Hwang, how are you?” Dr. Furon says politely. 

“I’m doing very well, thank you.”

You go to smack him again, he once more swats your hand away.

The professor comes back to the conversation. “I have them but they’re in my office. Would you two mind coming to campus to get them tomorrow?”

“Of course,” both you and Hyunjin say at the same time. 

You sneer and push his face away. 

“Great!” Dr. Furon gives you all the details for tomorrow and the two of you hang up. 

Placing your phone on the counter, you stand up to get away from Hyunjin. 

“You could've put it on speaker.” 

“You could’ve been patient!” Grabbing the nearest object— a tissue box— you hurl it at him. 

Hyunjin only laughs and catches it. 

“Putting more coffee on?”

“Obviously.”

---------------------------------------

“It’s the same one,” you say incredulously, flipping through the exams that Dr. Furon had given the two of you. 

While you got the papers from the professor’s office, Hyunjin had gone to the tutoring center for a list of tutors. Apparently he had a connection there as well. 

The two of you now sat in the conference room with your original cork board to the side. New leads and pictures right smack in the middle. 

You had spent the day questioning the graduate students, but as you suspected, it was a dead end. No one knew anything. 

The exams spread over the table were the best lead. 

“It is,” he mutters in agreement and disbelief. 

“Eric Rowan.” 

“Do you think…?” Hyunjin trails off. 

“I do,” you state clearly. “I really do.”

Shaking your head, you flip through the exams over and over to make sure you’re right, to make sure you’re not looking past something. 

You’re not jumping to conclusions, are you?

Hyunjin suddenly stands up from the table and makes his way to the door. “I’ll have the chief get someone to bring him down to the station.”

He didn’t even give a second thought to your decision. 

The door clicks after him. The silence inside the room is deafening. 

It would be perfect if you could play music like you do at home. 

“Eric Rowan,” you whisper solemnly. 

One tutor from the library at the university. 

It would make sense. 

Hyunjin had managed to get Eric’s entire tutoring log, every student he’s ever tutored had been included. 

You were able to highlight each and every one of the girls’ names that were victims of these heinous crimes. There were about two weeks of time between their last tutoring session and when they were found dead. 

One name stuck out, one name brought you an endless sigh of relief: Andrea Bowman.  

It made your skin crawl, but you instantly noticed she was the first female he tutored during his time. 

Slowly, the pieces started clicking. Your throat got a bit tight, it was difficult to swallow the emotions. 

You look around and grab her file underneath a huge stack. Her school picture is the top photo paper clipped on the inside. 

Andrea’s smiling face will haunt you for a long time. 

Hyunjin came back into the room, you didn’t look up. 

“Chief just sent someone out to get him, we’re getting interrogation room two ready for him, I think that— L/N?”

Your head snaps up and you sniffle. 

“Sorry,” your voice is hoarse. 

He shifts his weight in the doorway. “Everything finally hitting?”

You bite your lip and look back at Andrea’s picture. “Yeah.” 

Standing up from the table, you close the file and tuck it underneath a few more. 

“The guy hasn’t even confessed yet, I’m getting ahead of myself here. It just makes too much sense. These girls stopped going to see him two weeks before he killed— supposedly killed them.

“It just reads so clearly. He probably made a move, they felt uncomfortable so they stopped seeing him for tutoring, he couldn’t face rejection, so he killed them. It’s fucking sick.”

You roll your shoulders and look up at the ceiling. “Am I being too hasty? It just feels right, like … like these girls are cheering for me and telling me I’m right.”

The door shuts behind Hyunjin. He weighs his words carefully and walks up to his jacket, grabbing it off the back of the chair he sat in before. 

Those perfectly polished dress shoes click on the floor. It echoes off of each wall. 

“There’s one thing I’ve always lacked as a detective.” He folds the trench coat over his arm and walks up to you. “It makes me so mad that I don’t have this, it would help with so many of my cases.”

You watch him warily. There’s a sad smile on his face as he takes in your frazzled mood. 

You’ve never worn your heart this freely on your sleeve before. 

With a sigh, he reaches up and taps on your forehead. “Women’s intuition.”

For the first time, you have no response for him. 

As far as Hwang Hyunjin goes, this is the closest you’ve ever gotten to a compliment from him, or even an acknowledgment of your skill. 

Your lips stay sealed. 

“I’ve never not trusted your judgment. Ever. If your gut is saying this is the guy, then this is him. When have you ever been wrong?”

Your mind is reeling. 

Did he just compliment you again?

Heat rises to your cheeks. Your stomach flips. 

“I’ve always been so jealous of that. You just… know.” He shrugs and looks around, a small tinge of pink on his cheeks. “When the pieces finally fit into place you’re fucking brilliant at solving everything so fast. What’s that about?”

A sad laugh tumbles from his lips.

“This case would’ve taken any other team months to solve, but you and I did it in two weeks. Maybe we should work together more often, Y/N.”

There’s no way he said that. 

He’s jealous of you?

And did he just call you by your first name?

He stares down at you for a couple of seconds. Maybe you were imagining it, but you could swear that his eyes flickered to your lips more than once. 

“Come on then, we have an interrogation to do.”

Hyunjin turns on a heel and makes his way to the door. 

“Thank you,” you call after him. Hyunjin’s hand pauses on the door handle. “Thank you, Hyunjin.”

He doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t acknowledge what you did— the favor you just returned. 

He doesn’t speak on the new level that your relationship just crossed nor the mutual respect that you two just shared. 

Nothing. 

You don’t even get to see his face when you call him by his name for the first time. 

But, by the way his shoulders square and his head twitches, you know it affected him. 

Wordlessly, he nods and opens the door, leaving it open for you as he walks into the hallway and towards the interrogation rooms. 

Hwang Hyunjin, the golden child of the police department, considers you to be on the same level as him. Who would’ve thought? 

Maybe he’s right, maybe you should work together more often. 

---------------------------------------

Hours and hours and hours have gone by. 

Hyunjin as well as other officers have been grilling Eric for what seems like days. But it’s only been about 18 hours. 

The bags under your eyes feel like bruises. 

Three empty coffee cups and one full one sit next to you as you stare through the one way glass. 

Hyunjin’s pacing around the room with his hands in his pockets. 

His tie is loose around his neck, the sleeves of his button up are rolled up, his hair is tied up out of his eyes. 

He’s been trying to go the good cop route for the last 3 hours. Slowly, that act has been dropping; Eric is getting on his last nerve. 

You both let Eric sit in the interrogation room by himself for 4 hours leading up to this to get to his head. It didn’t seem to work. You can only legally keep him here for forty-eight hours.

If anything, he’s only gotten more agitated. 

Hyunjin walks up behind Eric, he reaches one arm down to the table. 

“You’ve never seen any of these girls before?” Hyunjin slides a few photos towards them on the table. 

“No.” Eric answers quickly. “I’ve already told you that.”

“I just think it’s interesting you’ve never seen any of them, Mr. Rowan. You tutored them. All of them.”

“Do you realize how many students I tutor on a daily basis?”

Hyunjin barks a laugh. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn't realize you were that popular.” He comes around the table and opens a file. 

Hyunjin pulls out one specific page, and reads off the top. “Actually, here we go, I know exactly how many students you tutor. Let’s see here: ‘Eric Rowan works two days a week in the tutoring center, Tuesdays and Thursdays.’ Last week you tutored 3 students total, and they were all returning students— how interesting!”

He slams the paper down onto the metal table. Eric jumps. 

“Only three returning faces to your tutoring session, Mr. Popular. And here’s the funniest thing;  I’ve noticed that there’s no women on this list. Weird.”

Eric’s eye twitches. 

Hyunjin takes a seat across the table, folding his hands on top of a notebook. 

“Have you ever had a girlfriend before, Mr. Rowan?”

Eric scoffs and shifts around in his seat. 

Your interest is piqued, you sit up straight in your chair and lean forward. 

Why did he get so nervous all of a sudden? 

Eric picks up the cup of water that he requested and takes a long sip from it. Hyunjin waits patiently. 

“I don’t see how that’s relevant to anything, Detective.”

Hyunjin laughs and opens the file. “See, I thought you would say that. My chief also asked the same question.”

Said Chief, who has been standing behind you for the better part of 5 hours, most certainly did not ask that. Chief Bang snorts quietly at the lie. 

“But you know what, we detectives have to do our due diligence.” Hyunjin opens a file and slides a large printed photo out across the table. “Recognize her?”

So many different emotions fly across Eric’s face: anger, loss, betrayal, depression, rage, hurt. The muscles in his face dance as they try to settle on an expression. 

“No,” he grits out. 

An obvious lie.

“Interesting.” Hyunjin pulls out another photo and slides it across. “Because just by taking a quick look at your social media profile, I can see how this girl was your girlfriend . Look, here you are together! Leah Miller. Pretty girl.”

Eric says nothing. He can’t look away from the picture. 

“Most interesting part I noticed was that you haven’t posted anything with her in about a year. What happened? Breakup? They suck, hm? Sorry, should I have said ‘ex-girlfriend’ before? My bad.”

You can’t help but smile. Hyunjin’s always been brilliant in interrogations, you can’t deny that. You’ve only ever heard rumors about how he is on the other side of the one-way mirror. 

Sneaking a peek at the picture of Leah Miller, your eyes widen. She fit the profile: long, blonde hair and sweet, light eyes.

More pieces fall into place. 

“It’s none of your business,” Eric grits out between clenched teeth. 

Chief Bang shifts behind you and grabs the back of your chair. Obviously he senses it too, a confession, a slip up, anything. It’s showing its head. 

“What? What are you saying?” Hyunjin laughs. “It’s exactly my business. That’s quite literally what my job is, you know, to know your business. It’s the same reason I know that you asked out Andrea Bowman during one of your tutoring sessions and she rejected you.”

“That’s not—“

“Oh, sorry, is that not how it happened? Did you maybe try and make a move on her and she rejected you that way? Maybe you put an arm around the back of her chair? Classic.”

“I-I didn’t—“

“Not that one? Understood.” Hyunjin nods and flips through the pictures on the table. “Oh, did you use the old ‘give me your number just in case you need more help’ trick? Used that on a girl in college, myself. Of course, it worked for me.” He winks at Eric.

Eric is fuming, his face is turning redder and redder, the vein in his forehead is popping. 

“Here we go,” Chief Bang whispers under his breath. 

Your mouth is agape, you’ve heard about Hyunjin in interrogation rooms before but you’ve never actually seen it. 

It’s like he’s dancing with fire so beautifully. He’s twirling a flaming sword with a silver tongue. 

“I think Andrea rejected you and then when she never came back for more tutoring, you lost it. You looked up her campus address in the internal systems, because guess what, you have access to that as a tutor, and you went to her dorm room, and you killed her.”

“Wh-What? You’re way off base here, Detective.” Eric stutters, his eye twitches again, his leg starts bouncing under the table. 

He pulls on the cuffs keeping him to the table. 

Hyunjin you’re so close, come on, come on. 

“Funny!” Hyunjin exclaims and slides another piece of paper across the table. “Here’s the search history in the library computer with your login credentials!”

Eric gapes, his mouth opens and closes several times.

“You know what, maybe you didn’t go to Andrea’s dorm with the idea of killing her. Maybe it was a grand romantic gesture, yeah, that seems more like it— flowers and everything.” He slams another picture on the table. 

A bouquet of flowers was found at Andrea’s crime scene. 

“You presented her with the flowers. And she rejected you. Again. ” Hyunjin’s voice is getting louder and louder, crescendoing with Eric’s anger and heart rate. 

Your breathing picks up. Both you and Chief Bang stop moving. 

“Stop,” Eric suddenly pleads. His hands shoot up to cover his ears but they’re stopped by the cuffs. 

The metal clinks and pulls, they dig into his wrists. 

“She rejected you twice! To your face! But you couldn’t take that for an answer. God, why did she do that? Why did she turn you down when you were just trying to be nice? ”

Hyunjin stands up slowly from the table, towering over Eric. 

“She was just like her, she was just like that bitch that broke up with you? She tore your heart out and spit on it! She was no better than Leah! So, you knocked her out and you tied her down to her own fucking bed in hopes that she would just hear you out!”

“Stop, stop!”

“Because maybe if she just listened she would understand that you’re just a genuine guy trying to be a good boyfriend to someone! You’re so nice, you’re such a good guy, no one likes good guys anymore, huh? And, of course Leah didn’t see that either!”

“ Stop! ”

“She tried to scream for help, so you killed her. You slit her throat without a second fucking thought for anything! And it felt so fucking good, didnt it? It felt so good to finally take power back from her? So, you didn’t stop.”

Tears spring from Eric’s eyes as he squints them shut, his body physically curling in on itself. He writhes around, unable to get far because of the handcuffs. 

“So you kept going, and you went after women who looked just like Leah. And it felt amazing because every single time you could picture her face as you slit their throats. Each and every one of them babbling for mercy, crying out for their mothers, to only choke on their own blood—“

“ FINE! ” Eric screams, slamming his fists on the table. “I killed them. I killed each and every one of the fucking bitches. And I fucking wish I could have killed her too!”

The sudden seemingly endless torrent of sentences comes to a screaming halt. 

Hyunjin sits down on his chair once more with a huff. 

And just like you did yesterday, he leans back on his chair and knocks once on the window. 

It takes you a second to find your voice after witnessing the most amazing, jaw dropping interrogation you’ve ever seen. 

“G-Got it!” You say loudly through the glass. “We got it. Oh my god!” You stand up quickly from the chair and turn around to Chief Bang, who has an equally surprised expression. “We got it! ”

He stutters for a moment and shakes his head to clear his mind before speed walking out of the side room to get officers to arrest Eric. 

Eric Rowan, who is now pathetically sobbing in his chair. 

Eric Rowan who signed his confession with the opposite hand that he’d been using to drink his water. 

Eric Rowan who is ambidextrous.

---------------------------------------

It’s so weird to see your kitchen island devoid of files and endless stacks of papers after the last few weeks. 

Eric was taken in for booking. Your job was over. 

Well, it was over for now. Chief Bang gave you and Hyunjin a week off and then you’re due back in the office for the next case. 

Plus, you’ll have to be at Eric Rowan’s trial since you were the lead detective on the case. 

So maybe ‘over’ isn’t the best way to describe it. 

More soft music plays from your speaker as you clean up the rest of the files. A large t-shirt draped over your body, it practically covers the shorts you have underneath. 

There’s a couple knocks on your door. His knocks are so distinct. You’ve gotten so used to them over the past two weeks. 

“Come in, Hwang!” you call out. 

The door opens and shuts. 

“I think I left a few things here,” he says kicking his shoes off in your entryway.

You hum in response, gathering up files to stack them neatly. 

His soft footsteps pad up behind you. 

“I don’t think I ever saw your countertop, is this granite?” he teases over your shoulder. 

You snort a laugh. “Yeah, it is. Came with the place, so don’t ask any more questions.”

Putting the stack down, you turn around and come nose to nose with Hyunjin. He is so much closer than you thought he was. 

You jump slightly and back up a bit, your hips hitting the countertop. 

Hyunjin doesn’t move. 

“I didn’t get to see you after the interrogation,” he says with a quieter voice. 

Not able to hold his searing gaze, you look off to the side and cross your arms over your chest. 

“Yeah, well, you know how the hustle and bustle can wrap someone up after a case closes. Next thing I knew, Bang was sending me home.”

Hyunjin takes a half step closer to you. “What did you think?”

“Hm?”

“What did you think of the interrogation?”

So many sarcastic, sharp retorts die on your tongue when you remember the conversation that the two of you had earlier. 

But still, complimenting him was about as easy as petting a cactus. 

“I told you I’m not going to stroke your ego, Hwang.”

He takes another step towards you, both of his arms come up to cage you to the counter. 

Heat rises on your cheeks more and more with each passing second. You refuse to meet his eyeline. 

“Humor me, L/N. How was my performance today?”

Tonguing your cheek, you roll your eyes. Your heart rate picks up at his proximity. Why does he smell so good?

The last time the both of you had an opportunity to shower was two days ago. 

He still smells like aftershave and expensive cologne. 

“It was good, okay? You got the guy.”

“ We got the guy, L/N.”

“Yeah, yeah, golden boy, we got him.”

He knows your sarcasm is empty. Just by looking at your flushed face he can tell you don’t mean it. 

“Come on now, L/N.” Long, lithe fingers grip your chin and turn your head towards him. “You can do better than that.”

Your jaw clenches. Arousal shoots down your spine like an electric shock. 

Fuck. 

Closer and closer his alarmingly handsome face inches closer to yours. The beauty mark under his eye seems more prominent than ever. 

His mind is one of a brilliant detective, but god, that face. He should’ve been a model. 

You bite the inside of your cheek and when you try to look away from his deep eyes, the grin on your jaw tightens. 

“Come on, L/N.” He smirks. “Tell me how good I did today. Say it.”

The brat inside you decides to surface. So, he wants to go this route, hm? “Why do you need me to say it so badly, Hwang? Everyone else in the department is so far up your ass, they can wear you like a hat.”

He rolls his eyes, his body pressing against you entirely. Your arms uncross and you reach back to grip the countertop next to his hands. 

It shouldn’t feel as good as it does. You should be shoving him away, slapping him across the face, spitting on his shoes. But instead you relish in the feeling. 

“Yes. But they’re not you. ”

Your eyes widen and the corner of his mouth twitches. He knows he has you in the palm of his hand. He just needs to break you more. 

But does he really?

Finally, he brings his lips closer and closer to yours. He pauses right before he makes contact, giving you a chance to say no. 

Nothing of the sort tumbles out. 

The first kiss he presses to your lips is nothing short of devouring. 

His soft, plush lips consume yours like he’s a starving man at a feast. You meet his enthusiasm with fervor.

Hyunjin’s head tilts to get better access to your mouth. His eyebrows pull together in concentration, he almost looks like he’s in pain. 

The fingers on your chin move down to your neck, he wraps his hand around it, thumbs on top of your pulse point, but he doesn’t squeeze. 

Your hands tentatively reach for him, grabbing at his dress shirt and tie, pulling him even closer to you. 

A small moan comes from the base of his throat and through his nose. Hyunjin’s other hand grabs your hip possessively. 

“Say it, L/N,” he hushes between kisses, completely out of breath. “Tell me how good I am.”

How is it that he has this sort of possessive grip on you and yet he’s putting the ball in your court?

A small boost of confidence courses through your veins. 

“Can’t you just admit it already?” he adds.

Smirking, you say nothing. One of your hands threads into his long hair and yanks his face back to yours for another bruising kiss. 

He huffs through his nose once more, but kisses you nonetheless. 

Twirl after twirl of his tie around your hand tightens your grip. With the last tug, Hyunjin moans once more into your mouth. The hand on your throat squeezes a bit.

“L/N,” he pleads again against your lips. 

You tug hard on his tie. Hyunjin loses his balance slightly, his knuckles turning white from grabbing your countertop so tight. 

Bringing your lips to his ear, you blow hot air on the sensitive skin first. He shivers against your hot body. 

At the same time, your bare foot travels up the back of his clothed calf, your thigh brushing against his hip.

“If you want my approval that badly, you’re going to have to earn it.”

Hyunjin makes a choked moan, “Fuck,” he whispers under his breath. The hand on your hip tightens. The fingers wrapped around your throat twitch. 

“How does that sound, Hwang? You be good to me and I’ll let you know how well you’re doing.” You roll your hips against his.

Your words have an obvious effect on him, the hardness that presses to your leg says it all. 

Hyunjins lips drop down to your neck, he bites the soft skin where it meets your shoulder. “Fucking hell, L/N, don’t play hard to get.” 

Humming, you roll your head back, enjoying the sensation of his mouth on your skin. “I’m not playing anything, I already told you how to get what you want.”

Licking and sucking his way down your neck, his teeth nip at your exposed collarbone. The hand on your throat slides backwards and into the hair on the back of your head. 

Your bottom lip pulls between your teeth to stop a moan from leaking out. You pull Hyunjin’s tie to keep his face there.

“Just like that, golden boy, your mouth feels so good.”

His hips involuntarily buck into yours at the praise, he whimpers against your skin. “ Shit, ” he curses into your neck with a hot exhale. 

You wrap your entire leg around his waist and roll against him more. His mouth stutters, but afterwards he sucks hard . A bright purple hickey already surfaces when he detaches. 

“L/N,” he murmurs into your neck. You hum in response. “Can I take this off?” He tugs at your shirt.

You smirk. “You can.”

When your hand unwinds from his tie, Hyunjin backs off of you. His face is already so fucked out; eyes are half-lidded and hazy, his lips are so puffy and swollen, spit glistening off them in the soft kitchen light. 

From all your pulling, Hyunjin’s hair is all askew and coming out of its usual ponytail.

He wastes no time, grabbing the hem of your t-shirt and yanking it over your head, he throws it behind him carelessly. His eyes light up at the sight of your bare chest, tongue poking out to lick his already slick lips.

You chuckle.

“You gunna touch me or what?” you tease. “Or maybe you don’t want it that badly.”

Hyunjin’s jaw clenches and he meets your eyes. The look he’s giving you is dangerous.

He huffs once and grabs your waist tightly, lifting you up off the ground and sitting you on the cold granite. The sharp temperature change against your flushed skin makes you shiver. 

Hyunjin parts your legs and stands between your thighs, his head dips down and envelopes one nipple in his mouth.

“Fuck!” you cry out, grabbing a fist full of his hair.

One of Hyunjin’s hands trails up your leg to grab at your exposed thigh while the other comes up to play with your other perky bud.

His eyes shut in his own pleasure. That tongue is absolutely relentless, licking circles around your nipple to flick over it a few times and then sucking.

Your toes are already curling, legs wrapping around his waist to get him closer to you.

“How about now, L/N?” his hoarse voice whines against your spit covered chest. “Is this good for you? Does it feel good?”

The more he talks, the more you can’t tell if he’s teasing you or genuinely asking for his own sanity. 

“It feels fucking amazing, Hwang, keep– shit – keep going.”

Hyunjin takes in a shaky breath and switches sides, your fingers yank on his hair and he whines again around your nipple. 

You let him continue for a while, relishing in the feeling of his spit dripping down your chest and onto your navel. The wet licks and sucks bouncing off the walls combined with his own small whines and your loud moans. 

Roll after roll of your hips grinds against his hard tent in his dress pants. After a few minutes, your hips seem to have a mind of their own, your soaking wet cunt seeking friction against anything to satiate the need for contact. 

The more he licks at your chest, the more Hwang Hyunjin continues to drive you insane. 

“H-Hwang,” you pull his attention. His eyebrows furrow as you yank him away from your purple marked chest. 

When he finally detaches, he looks up at you, panting. 

“Touch me, touch me, please . I can’t fucking take it.”

His shoulders curl forward like you knocked the air out of him. 

With more strength than you thought he had, he scoops you up and wraps your legs around his waist while smashing your lips together again. 

You cling onto him for dear life while letting your tongues slide over one another. 

“Hah,” you pant out in between kisses. “You’re doing so fucking well.”

He whines.

“Could’ve made me cum with just that tongue on my tits. Such a shame.”

Hyunjin drops your body onto the couch without a warning. You squeal and bounce on the soft cushions. 

“Hwang–” your voice dies in your throat when you catch the sight of him standing on the other side of the sofa arm. 

The change in his demeanor gives you whiplash. 

His eyes are dark, almost black. His chest is heaving with heavy pants. Those long fingers are tugging at his tie, until it's loose enough for him to rip off his neck. 

Your knees tuck up a bit towards your chest as you watch him with wide eyes like prey. 

Hyunjin reaches down and snatches your ankle, he tugs on it harshly. You yelp as you’re dragged forward into a lying position.

Coming around the sofa, he swings one knee over you to straddle your hips. One by one he begins to unbutton his dress shirt, never once breaking eye contact.

Each sliver of skin that is revealed is devoured by your eyes greedily. Never once has he so much as undone the top button on his collar at work.

Shamelessly, you rake in his athletic build. 

“You want to cum with just my tongue? Okay, L/N, I can do that.”

Your heart thuds in your chest. 

He shrugs his shirt off and drops it to the floor. Hands grab at the waistband of your shorts and yank them off with your panties in one swoop. Another article of clothing to hit the floor.

The cold air against your soaking wet folds makes you hiss slightly. 

Hyunjin stares down at your arousal, biting his bottom lip. Lower and lower he descends until you can feel his heavy exhales against your cunt.

He pushes your thighs apart, putting one over his shoulder, your heel settles into the dip of his spine. He’s smirking the entire time.

Finally, he tears his eyes away from your folds to look you right in the eye.

Your jaw clenches and you watch as he licks all the way from your entrance, up to your clit, circles around it to go back down to your entrance again.

An immediate shockwave of pleasure shoots through your body down to your toes. You toss your head back with your mouth agape, a silent scream stretching your lips.

Hyunjin keens at your reaction, doing the same maneuver again before focusing his attention on creating the most sinful figure eights with his tongue.

Your hand flies down to grab at his hair, shoulders arching off the couch. “Shit, shit, H-Hwang, feels so– hah – s-so good.”

He moans into you, the vibrations go right through you. 

With your heel on his back, you can feel how his back curves as his hips rut into the couch underneath him to relieve some pressure off his aching cock. 

Praises fall from your lips like water falling over rock. Each one makes Hyunjin whine and kick it up a notch. 

“That fu- uh -cking silver tongue, holy shit .”

Hyunjin moans loudly, he grabs both of your hips, nails digging into your skin with deep scratches. It only makes you cry out louder, pulling on his hair even harder. 

The tie in his hair comes out completely. You toss it away from you and gather up his hair in between your fingers to keep it out of his eyes. It feels like silk.

A coil within you begins winding tighter and tighter. The more he licks and sucks, the higher your cries get and the tighter your abdomen feels.

“Feels so good, it feels fucking amazing ! S-So close! Shit, please make me cum, please, shit!”

Each word makes Hyunjin sutter and moan into your folds, his eyebrows pulled like he’s in pain. Harder and harder he ruts into your sofa, his nails digging into you so much you think he might draw blood.

It’s taking every ounce of his will not to spill out in his pants at your praise. At your begging .

One of his hands comes up and kneads at your chest. His thumb rubs over your nipple a few times and that’s all it takes for the band within you to finally snap.

Your orgasm washes over you so hard it’s like being hit by a bus. 

With a silent cry, your entire body tenses up. Hyunjin’s movements slow down, but he still coaxes you through your climax with that skilled tongue of his. 

He hums into your folds, licking up every last drop of your juices.

You come down from your high slowly, chest heaving up and down, every exhale is paired with a moan. Shockwaves still ripple through your thighs.

Hyunjin’s eyes open and he stares at you, his mouth going over to bite your inner thigh. You squeal and squirm.

Slowly, like a lion, he gets up and crawls over your form, keeping eye contact. Once he’s close enough, he captures your lips greedily. Your arousal is still all over his tongue. It’s swapped between the two of you with your spit. 

Your hands reach down and fumble with his belt buckle. Hyunjin makes no move to stop you, instead, he pushes you further.

“Look at that,” he pants, looking down at your fumbling hands. “So desperate for my cock, huh, L/N?”

Your eyebrow twitches. You undo the buckle and reach down to grab his rock hard erection through his pants.

Hyunjin’s elbows buckle at your touch and he grunts, squinting his eyes shut.

“All talk, aren’t you? Once I touch you, you crumble .”

“Shit!” His eyes snap open and he bucks into your hand. “Because– ugh –, like I said, it’s you . Fuck ,” he moans when you squeeze him again over his pants.

“Keep going,” you tease. “Keep going and I’ll keep stroking this fucking monster cock you keep tucked in these pressed dress pants of yours.”

He exhales shakily while you unbutton his trousers. 

“When were you ever going to fucking– agh – realize that you drive me fucking insane, L/N?” His eyes start to unfocus when you push down the waistband of his pants and boxers down his thighs.

Fucking hell . Has he always been packing this?

“God damn, Hwang.” Your hand runs up his length. Hyunjin shudders and closes his eyes. Your touch is so featherlight he thinks he’s going insane. 

His eyebrows twitch and hips buck forward to try and reach your touch. 

“I’m not hearing a lot of talking.” You lean up and attach your lips to his neck, continuing to only trail the gentlest of touches up and down his throbbing cock. 

The head is red and angry and weeping precum.

His body trembles. “ Shit – I wanted you for so long, L/N. You drive me– fuck – insane. Every single fucking day I did whatever it fucking took to get your attention.”

Finally, your hand wraps around his length tightly and you start pumping very slowly. The long, pathetic moan that tumbles from Hyunjin’s lips is something of sin.

He sounds so relieved yet even more aroused at the same time. 

You continue to suck your own marks onto his perfect skin. Sweat drips down the side of his face and down his now slick back. 

“ Ughhh – L-L/N…” He buries his face in the crook of your neck. 

Your hand stops moving when he stops talking.

He cries out into your neck, hips frantically bucking into your touch to chase it. You only chuckle in response. 

“ Please! ” He whimpers. 

“Keep going then, golden boy.” You suck a sensitive spot underneath his ear. 

Another stutter of his hips.

“I begged the chief to put me on your case!”

Your pumping picks up speed again, his entire body rolls into yours. You grip him tighter and jerk him faster.

“I said– ah – I would do whatever case he wanted next if he– ffuuck – let me work with you on this one– oh my god! And I still would, I would do whatever– mmmph – case I need to to fucking work with you every day. Agh! ”

Despite your outwards nonchalant expression, on the inside, his words are fucking killing you. The throb in your cunt that was satiated moments ago comes back with a vengeance. 

To hear Hwang Hyunjin at your mercy is going straight to your core. Each noise he makes goes straight to your pussy.

“God, fuck , L/N, I-I’m close. Please, god , shit.”

After a few more pumps, you stop, taking your hand away completely. Hyunjin cries into the crook of your neck again, his body rolling and rutting the air at the loss of contact. 

“Please, why, fucking hell , I was so close!”

You grab the hair on the back of his head and yank his head up to look down at you. His eyes are cloudy, ears and cheeks bright red. Sweat drips down the side of his face and over his sharp cheekbones and jawline.

“Wouldn’t you rather fuck me?”

His face twists up with another moan. 

Hyunjin dives down and captures your lips in the sloppiest kiss of the night. He’s messy and desperate the longer he kisses you. 

While trying to stay attached to your lips, Hyunjin fumbles around to kick off his pants and boxers.

Both of you finally naked together, he grabs his cock in his fist.

“I-I’m not going to last–”

You cut him off with a sharp tug to his hair. “Fuck me, golden boy, don’t you think you deserve it after today?”

His eyes practically roll back in his head.

As soon as he’s lined up with your entrance, Hyunjin slides into you slowly. Inch by inch you’re stretched open,

He might not be thick but god, he is long .

With his mouth on yours, he swallows each moan and cry of pleasure. Without wasting any amount of time, he pulls out to slam back into you.

Both of you moan out together.

Your arm wraps around his neck. He rests his weight on one elbow and the other wraps around your shoulders to hug you close to him. His hand splays out between your shoulder blades to keep you anchored against his sweat slicked chest.

The skin to skin contact sends both of you wild.

Over and over again his hips undulate to thrust into you in the most delicious way. The angle of his hips brushes his pelvic bone against your clit with each slam against you. 

“You feel so fucking good,” you whine into his ear.

Hyunjin’s next thrust hits a bit harder. If praise makes him fuck you harder, then so be it.

“God, your cock is amazing.” Harder. “Hitting me just right.” Harder. “Never knew you would feel this fucking good.”

With his mouth on your neck, he leaves sloppy hickeys wherever he can reach. His pants fill the room and mix with your whines.

His head suddenly dips down to take your nipple into his mouth once more. You keen and toss your head back, hips canting up. The new angle has his cock slam right into your g-spot.

A loud scream tears from your lips. Hyunjin immediately picks up on this and picks up the pace, making sure he hits that spot every time.

If you thought your first orgasm had a sudden build up, it’s nothing compared to this one. There’s a sudden pressure increasing in your lower stomach.

“Fuck!” Thrust . “So good!” Thrust. “Oh my god!” 

Praises and noises fall from you, you don’t even realize what you’re saying anymore. The pleasure has your mind in the clouds.

“Y/N,” the sudden use of your name grabs your attention. Hyunjin comes up over your face with a pleasure twisted face. 

“Say it, please, please , I’m fucking begging you , please, say it.” 

Your eyebrows pull together, mouth still hanging open. What does he want you to say that you haven’t said already?

“ My name. Say it, please, please, please, please–”

Oh, fuck.

You smirk and watch as the desperation drives him wild. Even in the deepest throes of pleasure, you string him along for a few more seconds as you approach the edge.

Closer and closer you come to the edge.

He whines, begging louder and louder as his own climax creeps up on him, the muscles in his body tightening more and more. 

He needs it so bad. 

“Y/N! Please! ”

Just as you’re about to tumble over, your mouth stretches open.

“Fuck, Hyunjin! ”

The loudest moan you’ve ever heard from a man comes falling out of his mouth as he buries his face into your neck. Hot, sticky warmth shoots within you in long, drawn out spurts that match with Hyunjin’s whines and groans. 

His hips stutter for another twenty seconds before his moans finally calm down. 

Both of you hold onto each other tightly, heaving heavy inhales and exhales to catch your breath.

Absent-mindedly, your hand begins to rub up and down Hyunjin’s clammy back, drawing small circles and lines onto his skin.

He hums into your neck and holds you closer for a moment before collapsing onto the couch on top of you.

Surprisingly, his weight on top of you doesn’t seem to phase you; instead it brings the same comfort as a weighted blanket.

After a few more minutes of you silently rubbing his back, Hyunjin begins to lazily press kisses onto your bruise covered chest, paying extra attention to your collarbones. 

The kisses are soft and sweet, nothing like the lust coated ones from before. 

“Did you mean it?” you ask him quietly.

He pauses his kisses only to answer you. “Mean what?” He starts kissing you more.

“That you asked Bang to work on the case.”

He chuckles against your neck, his hair tickling your skin. “Oh, yeah. It took entirely too much convincing.”

You laugh with him and keep him close to your body.

In the back of your mind, you know you should get up, that he should pull out and the two of you should shower and drink water, but you can’t seem to distance yourself from him.

There’s no harm in sitting there for a while anyway.

Hyunjin hums into your neck again, “Thank god we have the week off.”

You couldn’t agree more.

[0bticeo]

jonathan sims | get some rest (tomorrow is already here)

summary:

“what do you propose?”

you take in a sharp inhale. you should leave. drag him away from his desk. but jonathan sims is a stubborn man, so he must be coaxed into doing so. 

“a massage.”

"a what?"

wc: 2.5k

tw: massage, making out, reader being a horny mess, jon being exhausted and a cranky bastard, hinted at elias' voyeuristic tendencies, usual tma ominous feelings, fluff (shocking, i know)

the analog clock reads 3:27, stark red embedded upon your retina. you sigh, fingers rubbing at the back of your neck as you step into the archives, weary bones aching.

it’s not your fault if you fell asleep in a secluded corner of the archives departement, squeezed between two shelves and piles upon piles of unlabeled statements. scratch that: they’re labeled. chronologically.

they do not make sense, however, because jonathan sims’ predecessor - whose name you curse with every breath and sleepless night you spend organizing her damn mess - left the whole department in such a state of disarray you might spend the rest of your life making sense of it. damn her. and damn your boss for being so uptight about it all.

you feel the weight of the institute, a looming force of knowledge pressed at the back of your neck, sweet pinprick of pain. you’re watched. oh, orwell, how right you were.

you make your way towards your desk, stepping over sasha’s pink slippers and picking up an empty mug. grab your keys, get out, and walk home. you’re not too far away from the institute. no trouble.

as you lean forward, palm pressed flat against a manila file, something catches your eye.

light. 

thin rays of it crawl, seep out from under the wooden door of the head archivist’s office, stark golden in dull gray penumbra.

he’s there, jonathan sims, head archivist of the magnus institute. holed up in his office, recording a statement, voice poised and measured and controlled in every way he isn’t upon being confronted with his poor sleeping schedule. 

you should leave.

you hear the soft click of a tape recorder being stopped. a long, deep-suffering sigh. a drawer opening, more muttering, some shuffling, rustling papers - oh no he won’t.

in three decisive steps, you’re before his door, your sharp knocking rinnging like gunfire in the quiet of the office. 

“who-who’s there?”

unease. suspicion.

you’re quick to answer with a long suffering sigh of your own, forehead pressed against the door.

“it’s me, jon.”

a pause. an exasperated sigh.

“what do you want?"

you take it as your cue to step inside his office, dimly lit by a lone desk lamp, dust particles turning midas-gold under its rays. your foot catches on a discarded paper - another statement, this one regarding a gambling fool of a soldier. 

(he who tries to cheat death gets the fruit of his labor and weeps upon tasting it.)

you pick it up, and let your gaze roam about the place.

a cork board takes up the majority of a wall, red strings twisting and turning in a web of confusion.

bookshelves align themselves in neat rows, cramped against one another, overflowing with statements, indigestions of facts made up and real.

a cluttered desk - a switched off tape recorder, manila folders, an open computer casting its blue glow upon the sharp edge of jon’s face.

he’s glaring at you.

“have you grown deaf since the last time i saw you?”

you let out an amused breath and make a move to put the statement on his desk. finding an uncluttered space is harder than it proves to be.

jon all but snatches the damn paper from your grip. if looks could kill, you’d be in bad shape. you lean back, arms crossed over your chest, hip pressed against the edge of his desk.

“no, merely mute with shock upon your wretched appearance.” you smile, teasing edges fading into concern. “seriously, when was the last time you slept?”

“that does not concern you-”

“it does, actually. you’re my boss. i can’t let you waste away, who would pay me otherwise?”

“elias pays all of us-”

“and he probably would have me promoted as a glorified secretary if you were to overwork yourself to death. i hate accountance, jon.”

he pinches his nose with long, deft fingers, glasses riding up ever so slightly. they reveal the deep circles under his eyes, embedded in his olive skin. you can practically see the tension oozing from him, the knots in his shoulders.

“if you’re determined to waste my time-”

“i came to help, actually.”

he raises a quizzical eyebrow, the living embodiment of judgment.

you feel his gaze rake your form, the own dark circles under your eyes, the crumpled shirt, the dust that clings to your skirt, what he’s sure is the imprint of the shelf you fell asleep against on your cheek.

you raise your hands in mock surrender. (you miss the way his gaze softens a little.)

“you’re exhausted. hell, i can feel your nervous energy from here.”

he opens his mouth, frowning, protest ready on his tongue. you cut him, merciless.

“when was the last time you’ve gotten more than three hours of sleep?”

that shuts him up. his frown deepens. you want to smooth out the wrinkles on his forehead.

“that - look, if you have nothing better to do than pester me-”

“it’s three in the morning and we’re the only living souls in this institute.”

maybe. you don’t really want to know what lies in the tunnels. or in the artifact storage. or what’s watching you.

“you’re not going to sleep at all at this rate - no, i know you’re not, because i know you. kinda.”

he sighs, exhaustion crawling out of his very marrow, and leans back in his chair. you take in the wrinkles in his shirt, now exposed because lo and behold, jonathan sims’ jacket is not sewn to his body and - 

and he’s loosening his tie, two fingers digging in his windsor knot, smooth silk gliding away under skilled fingers. you wonder what they might feel like slipping under your shirt.

“what do you propose?”

you take in a sharp inhale. you should leave. drag him away from his desk and into bed. but jonathan sims is the living embodiment of stubborness, so he must be coaxed into doing so.

“a massage.”

“a- a what?”

you laugh a little.

“don’t pretend your neck isn’t stiffer than the stick up your ass.”

“i do not have-”

“jon, please let me help.”

silence. again, he pinches the bridge of his nose. at least, he’s considering it.

you eye the piles of statements on his desk, half-discarded, half-classified. there’s a pattern in the way jon operates, even if he’s not conscious of it.

he only ever calls for your help when he’s sure the statements at hand are lelgitimate. this means he rules out those he deems written by lunatics and madmen. this means he does most of the work. this means-

“all right. but under one condition."

you tilt your head to the side, curious.

“one last statement.”

“only if i massage you while you record it.”

a glare.

“we’re wasting time, jon.”

“fine. get over here.”

you smile, palms smoothing out the pleats of your skirt as you make your way behind his desk.

he pays you no mind, long fingers selecting a manila file from a pile, opening it with care. there’s a certain stiff grace with which he carries himself, you muse as you step behind him. 

you watch the ripples of tension in the back of his neck, the fine strands of auburn hair tainted penumbra-dark brushing against his nape, and gently run your knuckle against his skin. he’s warm.

“whenever you’re ready,” you breathe, fingers resting on the back of his chair.

he coughs a little. composes himself. hits record.

“continued statement of trevor herbert regarding their latter years as a vampire hunter. original statement given july 10th 2010, audio recording by jonathan sims, head archivist of the magnus institute.”

you watch with fascination as the calm, composed, formal voice slips into something… else. something between jonathan sims and trevor herbert, and it’s fascinating, because for a brief second, split second instant of Knowing, you can See him, the tramp and his collapsing lungs, writing away his youth and hunts on bland institute paper.

you blink and it’s gone. 

there’s only you, the “lofi charm” of the tape recorder, and jon. his nape is bare. intimate knowledge settles in your mind, the fragility of mortality. bury a sharp needle there and his body collapses. 

you frown. push it back. roll up your sleeves and rub your hands together, warming them up because they’re always cold, and the least you can do is give him a modicum of comfort.

slowly, carefully, you put your hands over his shoulders. he tenses at that, briefly, until you start rubbing away the years of tension gnawing at him.

slowly, surely, you knead poor, exhausted muscles. slowly, surely, he relaxes under your touch, head leaning back ever so slightly.

from this close, you can smell him, you realize. cold coffee, dusty paper, cedarwood aftershave and something like a hint of sweat. 

“good?” you whisper, almost silent, voice lost in the quiet static of the tape recorder, in the dust-soft penumbra.

he nods, cheek brushing your wrist. your heart hammers in your chest. a strand of hair brushes the back of your hand - they’re graying a little. you wonder why he exhausts himself so. why he spends nights buried in his office, burrowing himself in piles and piles of files. 

hypocrite.

the only reason as to why you’re here, massaging your fucking boss and growing desperately wet at his deep sighs of content, is because you, too, spend much more time than reasonable trying to make sense of it all. 

the only reason as to why you’re here, taking in the gentle mess that is jonathan sims, is because you both leave at ungodly hours. because he can keep his eyes on you and so he knows that you cannot be responsible for gertrude’s murder.

you think he might trust you.

his hand settles over yours, and you startle.

he’s warm, palm large enough to cover the entirety of your hand, from wrist to fingertips. you don’t know what to do with this knowledge.

you don’t want to think of what you might do in the quiet death of the night, your hand slipping under your covers, down the apex of your thigh-

he slides your hand lower. oh. oh. 

you lean forward, until your cheek brushes his, skin on skin, and unbutton the first two buttons of his shirt. you think he might be leaning into your touch. you think you might cut yourself on the edge of his jaw, on the sharpness of his words. 

your hands meet his bare skin and you feel like you’ve caught fire, breath stolen away as you feel him in a way the cotton of his shirt didn’t allow. there is a sharpness to him. you can feel his jutting clavicles under your fingertips, sharp angel wings of bone, and your heart tightens. 

he works too much.

it’s quiet, for a while.

you don’t know what sets it off. one moment, you’re massaging him, relishing in the feeling of his skin under your hands. the next, your fingers catch a particularly tight spot in his shoulders and he groans , and fuck, you should not feel familiar heat curling in your lower belly but you do. 

you should stop. bid him good night and leave him with his precious recording. 

you don’t. 

instead, you rub at that spot, tentatively, and watch as he bites his lip mid-sentence, voice catching on a word. he’s a little breathless.

you are, too, heart hammering in your ribcage, hummingbird trying to flee its bones.

his hand wraps around your wrist and tugs you forward, free hand settling on your lower back, guiding you until you’re in his lap, looking up at him.

you think you might be dying of a heart attack with the way he looks at you, with eyes so dark you can barely make out the beautiful green of them.

“just what do you think you’re doing?” he growls.

you feel like you're on fire with how close you are. how his hand still encases your wrist in an iron hold. how you can feel warmth of him. how you can see the fluttering pulse of his throat, adam apple bobbing up and down as he swallows and fuck you want to take a bite.

your mouth feels dry.

“i- i don’t-” 

his grip tightens on your wrist. 

“answer me.”

somehow you’re closer. close enough to feel his breath on your lips, to find yourself staring up at him through hooded eyes, to find him staring back with parted lips. 

whatever’s left of your resolve dissolves into a puddle of desire. 

“jon, please, let me kiss you.”

a pause. the faintest glint of disbelief in his eyes.

then his lips crash on yours. 

you startle, hand shooting forward to grasp the nearest thing for purchase and find only him, him and the crisp cotton of his shirt, all exhaustion and boiling frustration.

he puts his mouth to you like one would to a lover’s and kisses you slowly, deeply, unraveling you like a beloved mystery. 

your body sings for him, and it’s so right you dismiss the ever-present pinprick pressure at the back of your neck. 

his palm cups it, your nape, warmth consuming that pinprick pain, until the only thing you can do is sigh in his mouth and press yourself closer.

his lips part from yours, briefly, a breath away, and it’s too damn far, so you tug at his cravat and pull him down. your fingers dig in his shirt, his hair, and he groans at the way your nails rake his scalp.

your lips part for him in a soft, whisper-quiet moan of his name, and he swallows it down almost greedily. you feel his tongue brush against yours and let out a low, needy sound, molten desire coursing through your veins.

his hand slips under your shirt, reaches for the soft skin of your side and presses up, up, up until it meets your breast and his thumb presses against your nipple in tight circles and you’re almost sobbing against his lips. 

you’re not aware that your hips are grinding against the hardness of him until his hand settles on your hip, slowing you down to a stop, and you part from him, breathless, and so, so needy.

there’s a thread of saliva between you, thin little spider-web intertwining your fates.

he looks at you, disheveled, glasses slightly askew, their lenses foggy, shirt half-opened for your gaze to meet tantalizing skin. a feast for the sore eyes.

“you might want to make me breakfast instead.”

“not like this,” he mumbles, thumb swiping against your bottom lip. “not- at least, let me treat you to dinner first.”

he chuckles at that, a little breathless, a little exasperated, definitely fond.

“cheeky.”

you peck his lip, sweetly. his hand tightens over your hip.

“look at the time, jon.” 

he rides up his sleeve ever so slightly to reveal his watch and with it, the tantalizing softness of his pulse, beating wildly against the tender skin of his inner wrist. almost four in the morning. you press your lips there, feel the yearning of his beating heart. 

he doesn’t think he’s seen you this beautiful. you, disheveled, on his lap, almost chest to chest with him, bringing his palm to your cheek and pressing fluttering kisses to his fingers. you, smiling up at him, exhausted, worn to the bone, but happy, and -

“oh.”

“what is it?”

your gaze lands on the tape recorder. oh.

“still recording. i should -”

“go home, get some sleep and finish what you started - me included - later.”

he sighs. there’s still a smile on his lips, exhaustion melting down to affection. 

"fine. end recording.”

[homestuckreplay]

psychoanalyzing rose’s mother (because rose won’t do it)

(page 903-910)

The Skaianet Laboratory Unestablishment countdown ticks from 1:43 down to 1:34. I see those 413s being snuck in. I am genuinely at a point where if I see a number that isn’t 413 I get suspicious.

I love Rose so so much. And I love that she’s into psychoanalysis (kind of). But her saying ‘this incongruous thing? I pretend I do not see it’ is just like her saying there is ‘nothing to psychoanalyze’ about her mother’s love of wizards (p.360). She’s going in with preconceived expectations and not willing to interrogate the unexpected.

Like. Let’s look at the facts. In this massive, empty lab with thousands of twinkling boxes and no people, somebody has left a pink plastic table and chairs, a tea set, a scarf, a pink and white bed with cat, flower, heart and paw print designs, a princess themed dresser, cat stuffed toys, and WIZARD DOLLS. Pretty pink masters of the arcane with their long beards and pointy hats. Kind of a giveaway as to which local wizard-loving woman might own all this.

Rose’s mom has brought all this down to the lab, where she either works or just spends time. And she’s probably lonely down here and trying to recapture a childhood, whether that’s her own or Rose’s. We know from the pretty princess doll (p.363) that Mom likes to buy traditionally girly gifts for Rose, so this could even be old toys of Rose’s that she doesn’t even remember, her mom still playing with them to remind her of when she used to play with Rose. If Mom works here, then she’s up at this meteor terminal thinking about how one day, her daughter and anyone else they both care about are both going to be in danger from this upcoming apocalypse. And maybe she wants to hold on to the time she’s had with Rose before everything changes, or maybe she wishes she could be the one being taken care of, miles from the nearest town and with no partner or other family at home. She’s looking for comfort, she may well want to escape her own daughter’s judgment, and ultimately she has to parent herself as much as Rose does.

All this very important content is immediately overshadowed by the tiny kitten. There is a kitten hiding in the teapot. A TEAPOT SIZED KITTEN. I thought I was over this but I am not. A SMALL KITTEN!

Page 909 is composed similarly to Jade’s furry thoughts on page 797, but with the opposite emotion behind it. But clowns is clowns, and I don’t think John is scared of finding a bunch of regular ass harlequins like Dad might keep downstairs. That also wouldn’t explain why John’s always been kept from going in Dad’s room (and I could be wrong but it seems uncommon to not even know what’s inside a parent’s room). I think John is scared that his dad has a different secret. Based on the contents of Dad’s safe (p.544) I wonder if Dad is an amateur investigator who’s been looking into some of the strange phenomena associated with Skaia. Maybe John is about to encounter red-string cork boards and more tidbits about meteors, and find out that his dad is way more involved in current events than previously thought.

In page titles, ‘ascend’ first appears on page 660 and ‘descend’ not until page 840 (though the word is used in passing on both page 358 and 361). ‘Ascend’ also appears on page 759 in Nanna’s prophecy, where she states that ‘together [the Heir, Seer, Knight and Witch] will Ascend’. On page 909 the narrator treats ‘descend’ as an expectation, but it’s a fairly recent one. It’s one of my favorite things about serial fiction to see these tidbits of patterns and lore be dropped in and then woven through the narrative as if they’ve always been crucial, until it’s impossible to divorce the two. But it’s still possible to see that Homestuck characters weren’t ascending on day one.

> John: Examine room.

[corporatefrog]

╰┈➤ Welcome Back to the Channel part 15; red string of CONSPIRACY

✧.* featuring yn opening up to Kyle about their recent theories : ̗̀➛ notes - I always get nervous when I post written out parts (esp when it's a smau) but I felt like this needed to be in person for the effect. The next part will be mainly written too so get ready! tags - college au, superhero au, smau

series masterlist previous | next

It’s got to make sense. It HAS to make sense. If it doesn’t make sense I’ve spent the past week thinking about it and that’s a week wasted that I could’ve used to do something else or literally anything. 

My vision blurred as I stared at the cork board, eyes tracing the same track of red yarn from picture to news article to picture to news article to picture-

It was a vicious cycle that had trapped me for what felt like hours but could’ve been minutes. Or days. Time came and went in no consistent interval. I woke up, went to class, came home and stared at this board until I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer. 

I hadn’t made a video in a few weeks and I’d postponed the interview I had scheduled with Fast Pass with no new date set. Another lost opportunity because I couldn’t get my shit together. This is all I had right now. So I had to be right. Even if the theory made me sound like I’d never had a critical thought in my life. 

Which it does. Kyle didn’t even respond after you told him. That means no one believes you. It means your theory doesn’t make sense. This is BUTTERS we’re talking about.

Yeah but if it’s wrong, that means those people are right. Even if they’re just spreading hate on the internet to make themselves feel better, they have lives nonetheless. If I assisted someone who’s actively ruining people’s lives, does that make me just as bad as him? 

I shake the thoughts away. I’m not a bad person. I may make questionable choices but what college student doesn’t? It’s a part of growing up. So I have to be right about this. But what does that mean moving forward? What do I do knowing one of my best friends is a super villain? 

A stinging feeling begins behind my eyes as I feel the familiar pressure across the bridge of my nose that always happens before I start crying. 

Why can’t I figure this out? Why can’t I let this go? Why am I stuck-

A knock at the door startles me from my concentration. My head whips to the door as though it would open on its own to reveal who interrupted my time of focus. 

“Yn? Hello?” Kyle’s voice sounds from the other side of the door. 

Oh fuck. 

I looked back to the cork board which took up the majority of my living room. 

Why did I buy this again? I wondered, realizing how much space the board actually took up. The once tidy living room had become cluttered with empty coffee cups and takeout containers littered over the coffee table, end tables, and ground. Bits of red yarn sat on the ground from cut up scraps. Other lengths that had connected discarded evidence sat in a pile on a stool, waiting for the chance to be connected to the ever expanding web once again. 

“Are you in there?” Kyle’s voice rang through the apartment again.

I can’t let him in here! He’s going to think I’m some hermit conspiracy theorist!

…Well I kind of am a conspiracy theorist.

Deciding to ignore that realization, I lunged for the nearest piece of trash (a 3 day old Chipotle bowl that I just kept forgetting to walk the 3 feet to the kitchen trash) and tossed it into the garbage can. Speed cleaning the apartment lifted a weight from my shoulders, making the small living room feel less claustrophobic. 

Wow, I feel better already. Maybe I should open the blind and run a vacuum through real quick- KYLE!

I spun and walked toward the door, fixing my appearance in the 10 second walk to the door to the best of my ability. Even if I’ve been stuck in my apartment for a week and a half, I didn’t want to look like it. 

Unlocking the door, I put on my best “I’m totally fine and mentally stable!” face.

“Hey, kyle!” 

If I looked bad, Kyle somehow looked worse. The usually maintained curls frizzed into a blur atop his head and his shirt was clearly on backwards with a Fruit of the Loom logo showing proudly at the base of his neck. His eyes darted around the hallway and into my apartment through the sliver he could see through the cracked door. 

The fuck is up with him?

I think while also wearing a shirt backwards after throwing away a week’s worth of take out food and diluted iced coffee as though I was any better off. 

That’s not what we’re focusing on right now. I’m perfectly stable, duh. 

“You good?” I asked, leaning against the door frame to keep him from seeing my conspiracy board. 

Kyle raised an eyebrow, “You’re the one that texted me an essay about your theories then called yourself an asshole.”

“Oh those?” I forced out a laugh, waving a hand to brush off the concerns, “Those were just joke, duh! You took those seriously?” 

“They sounded pretty serious to me.” Kyle sighed, running a hand through his ragged hair in a way that somehow didn’t catch his fingers in the mess of curls, “Can I come in? There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

My eyes darted back into the apartment. The giant cork board stuck out like a neon sign saying “A MENTALLY ILL PERSON LIVES HERE!” I couldn’t let someone see me like this. Texting Kyle in the first place was a mistake. He’ll think I’m not thinking clearly, that I’m not someone to be trusted. The work I put into being reliable yn who’s always there to be a person you can lean on will be ruined. No one will ever trust me again. 

But don’t you want someone else to know? Just knowing that someone else sees your stress instead of shoving it down until it spills over?

The thought alone of telling someone about these thoughts, of sharing the burden I’d created for myself, cleared the clouds fogging my mind. He can be someone who will listen. He can be a witness so I’m not the only one who knows that I’m struggling. 

I stepped back, pulling the door open so Kyle could step through. 

“Sorry, it’s a bit of a mess.” I started, hoping to mediate the embarrassment of letting someone into my stress lair. 

Kyle shook his head as a small smile tugged at his lips, “It’s no problem, if you’ve ever seen stan’s room-” His sentence died out as he noticed the cork board. You know, the giant one covering my living room wall filled with pictures and newspaper clipping connected by red yarn. 

“Oh.” Was all he said. 

I shut the door behind him. Kyle jumped slightly at the sound, turning his gaze to follow me as I walked. He doesn’t say a word. Only staring at the cork board, the remains of trash I’d missed on my quick clean, and my own disheveled appearance. 

Might as well address the elephant in the room.

“Do you want to talk about the cork board?” I asked, continuing before he had a chance to reply, “Let's talk about the cork board because I’ve been dying to talk about this cork board all day.” Walking up to the board, I pointed to the center where two photos sat: one of the supervillain Professor Chaos and the other of elementary education major Butters Stotch. 

“Professor Chaos. His name keeps coming up over and over again. Everyday Call Girl is sending out alerts about this guy,” I move my hand to point at different tweets I’d printed out and pinned to the board, “Professor Chaos takes hostages in a McDonalds Play Place for a birthday party. Professor Chaos attempts to sign himself as the mayor of South Park using a fake charity petition. Professor Chaos hijacks the news station to declare the weather today ‘a 100% chance of Chaos’. This entire corner is just tweets about Professor Chaos!” 

Kyle sits down on the couch without a word, eyes still following my every move. I start pacing across the living room. 

Why isn’t he saying anything? Is it because he doesn’t believe me? 

“So I start to look closer at his actions, his way of speaking, everything that makes Professor Chaos who he is. But it’s around this same time that I start to text a certain person more because we have a philosophy class together.” I return to the board and point to screenshots of text messages. 

“Here Butters talks about getting grounded for eating two cookies and here Professor Chaos talks about being grounded for wearing his villain outfit then got grounded for trying to get ungrounded.” I look between the cork board and Kyle, trying to justify my hypothesis with the urgency in my voice, “No one gets grounded as much as Butters. You know that. I know that. Everyone knows that!”

“But that’s not even the smoking gun!” I exclaimed, pointing to another corner of the board, “Last week, Butters missed our philosophy class- which he has never done- and when I texted him, he said he was at a showing of Frozen on Ice with his mom in Denver. But when you look at the schedule for Frozen on Ice,” I pause for effect, “they don’t start shows for this season in Denver until next month. Right day, wrong month.” 

“But guess what was going on last week? Professor Chaos attacks main street and is tackled by Super Craig. Landing him with another defeat and some pretty gnarly bruises to boot. The kind of bruises you’d need to miss class to cover up.” I finished with a sigh, glad to finally tell someone the monologue that had been racing through my head for the past week. 

I brace myself for Kyle’s response. His eyes are locked onto the cork board and my scribbled sticky notes shouting various exclamations of discovery and panic. With a deep breath, he levels his gaze on me. 

What is he thinking? Is he trying to find a nice way to say I’ve lost it? Have I lost it?

“Yn-”  He begins but I cut him off. 

“I know it sounds crazy, okay? I know it sounds like I’m reaching by claiming the only truly nice person I know is the town’s resident fucking super villain-” 

“You’re right.” 

Kyle’s response blasts through my clouded mind. I physically take a step back as my face morphs from frantic stress to confusion. 

“What did you just say?” I ask, shoulders remaining tense as a hand twists into the fabric of my shirt. Kyle sighs, looking away and muttering something to himself. He raises a hand to his face, rubbing at his eyes before looking back at me. 

“You’re right about Professor Chaos.”

The words I hoped to hear, the words I thought would finally take the weight off my shoulders and release the stress that had gripped my nerves, only intensified the panic in my mind. 

“You mean you believe me, right?” I started slowly, trying to clarify the simple language mistake Kyle made. 

“No, I mean you’re right.”

Before my mind could begin to wrap around the first revelation, Kyle continued speaking. 

“I can’t tell you. I’m not allowed to. I shouldn’t even be telling you this. But I know someone who can, or at least someone who has permission.”

I began shifting my weight from foot to foot, holding back the urge to begin pacing again as I ran a hand through my hair. 

“You know how cryptic you’re being right now, right?” I said. 

“Yeah I know.” Kyle's leg began to bounce as his own nerves began to peak through, “I’m walking a very thin line and I’m trying not to get us both into major trouble.” He looked up to me, trying to communicate a message I couldn’t understand. 

“With who?” 

“Someone with a lot more authority than me. Someone who can explain things more if you come with me.” Kyle urged. 

What does that even mean? Let’s not forget that he said we were right. How does he know that? Why does he know that?

My thoughts fought against each other to be the one addressed first but with so many questions, it felt impossible to single out one from the mass. Everything was happening so fast. Everything changed so fast. When did the mood of the room become so urgent? Did it always feel like this? 

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to pause the thoughts. Nothing is going to get done at this rate. So I need to take the first step forward. 

“Okay… yeah.”I started slowly. Kyle nodded and began to stand but I held up a hand for him to wait, “But only if you promise we can get ice cream afterwards.”

Kyle looked at me with an exasperated expression, “Are you seriously using this to get free ice cream?”

This is what he’s surprised by? 

I raised my eyebrow at him and pointed to the chaotic corkboard, “You just told me my batshit conspiracy theory was right and now you want me to follow you to an unknown location to talk to an unknown person. Fuck yes I want free ice cream.” 

Kyle considered the cork board for a moment before sighing. 

“Fine. We’ll get ice cream.”

I muttered a quick “Fuck yeah.” to myself in celebration before looking back at Kyle, 

“Okay I’ll get my coat.” 

I grabbed my jacket and followed Kyle out the door, not nervous about where I’d be going, but scared that I wouldn’t like what I found.

taglist [reply to be added]: @sula0kin @lacuna-at-dawn @anglettecolours @cocolena@sukisprettyface @feverish-dove @sweetadonisbutbetter @hand-writxen@mishstuff@sophtophie @triphovia  @lacunaanonymoused @inkedintothepaper @toodeepintofandoms@mmmaackerel @sillybilly-123@n0tangeliccc

[mllekurtz]

shadowgast wip rec list part 4

(part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 3.5 - part 4 - part 4.5)

It's been a while since I've done a rec list of work-in-progress shadowgast fics, so here's a curated selection from my Subscriptions page (under a cut because there's a lot of 'em).

All of these works, listed in no particular order, are wips that have been updated recently or semi-recently, and have the only common denominator of being liked by yours truly. Feel free to reblog and add your recs (or better yet, make a rec list of your own! They're fun and make the day of everyone involved).

It goes without saying that these works are active wips at the moment of posting this list. Past lists may contain works that have been completed or abandoned since.

Lastly, a shoutout to @aeor-is-for-reccing and their weekly rec lists, which inspired me to put together a new one ♥ check them out for more recs!

zwiefacher (15/20 chapters, E, warnings: CNTW & Rape/Noncon) by VillainIHaveDoneThyMother/@villainihavedonethymotheronao3 - this fic juggles so many plates (t4t shadowgast, memory loss, extreme trauma, kidnapping, gaslighting, even more trauma, systemic racism, and lots of other fun things I'm forgetting) and does it incredibly well. Not a light reading, but if you want something substantial to sink your teeth in, I can't recommend this enough.

You Be You, And I’ll Be Busy (3/10 chapters, T, warnings: CNTW) by theprophetlemonade/@the-prophet-lemonade - top notch characterisation of both of them (but I'm especially in love with Essek's). The sexual, romantic and just plain tension are well executed, and while all the fics listed here are outstanding for their style and prose, this one is truly no exception.

Unfinished (5/? chapters, E, warnings: CNTW) by road_rhythm/@road-rhythm - read this with a notebook, some red string and a cork board. Roadie is so good at taking a premise and building a life-like, in-depth story around (under, over, beside, inside) it; both the prose and the content are sharp and unforgiving. And I know we're here for shadowgast, but this fic's Beau is the best.

Love Letters to Toss Into the Fire (10/? chapters, T, no warnings) by Anonymous - props to this fic not only for the excellent premise (Caleb and Essek secretly write letters to each other) but for keeping it up for so long while always making it interesting. The ciphers, spells, devices and tricks they use to send each other letters are always different, interesting and believable, and the relationship between the wizards grows in a delicate, emotional way.

The Chosen AU (18/? chapters, E, warnings: CNTW) by Anonymous - not a purely shadowgast fic since it starts as Verin/Essek, as in sibling incest, with Caleb joining their relationship later, so if that's not for you be warned (but honestly the relationship between the Thelyss brothers is wholesome and well-handled, so if you're on the fence because of that, you should definitely give this fic a try). When this fic goes dark, it goes dark; when it's lighthearted, it's deeply funny and sweet. Come for the blorbos, stay for the lovely OCs, the engaging subplots, the fleshed-out world-building, the very effective non-linear narrative and just an all-around riveting story that kept me glued to my kindle for a whole weekend as I was catching up with it.

all this, heaven never could describe (10/28 chapters, M, no warnings) by kaeda/@the-kaedageist - a sequel to the delightful More Things in Heaven and Earth, which you should definitely read (to understand this fic but also because, as I said, it's a joy to read), it follows the adventures of Alternate!Bren and Essek as they try to put their own version of the Mighty Nein together. The shadowgast dynamic in this one is juicy and fun and unlike anything you've ever read: they're competitive, they sleep together, they annoy each other, they're so obviously in love.

if you must live, darling one (3/11 chapters, M, no warnings) by essektheylyss (midnightindigo)/@essektheylyss - Megs is one of the (many!) writers in this fandom who are really good at conveying demisexual feelings in a way that's believable both for Essek's character and the demi audience, at least in my experience. This fic is very interesting in that regard.

Kintsugi (15/? chapters, M, warnings: Major Character Death) by Chekhov/@thechekhov - first of all, the major character death is temporary and integral to the foundational concept of the fic, which is brilliant; yes, there is a lot of heartache in this one, but the payoff is entirely worth it. You'll find Chekhov's trademark brilliant, clever, polished style in a story that doesn't pull any punches and will make you cry and crave for more after each update.

the fugitive's version of shelter (5/6 chapters, E, no warnings) by hanap/@callingvoicemail - the latest instalment in the here is a world where you love your executioner series, which is partly a retelling of the second half of campaign 2, partly set post-canon, with the variable of Essek being pregnant with Ludinus' child. The whole series is recommended, as well as necessary reading to appreciate this one; it's an original take on a will-they/won't-they dynamic that makes for some deliciously complicated shadowgast.

Hold Me Close, Cut Me Deep (1/4 chapters, M, no warnings) by CatgirlTheCrazy/@catgirlthecrazy - this fic is effectively summarised as "Essek has his own light 'em up, pretty moment." Do I need to say anything else?

presque vu (13/?, T, no warnings) by element78 - (also known as the fic that kept me sane while I was in work hell last summer) Caleb suffers from memory loss for mysterious reasons and doesn't remember being friends with the Nein or being in a relationship with Essek; the fic starts with an amnesiac Bren waking up and then proceeds with a slow, painstaking rebuilding of trust and relationships. The memory loss plot device coupled with Bren/Caleb's pov is great for narrative irony, the shadowgast dynamic is heart-rending, and everyone cares about each other so much (well, maybe not Kingsley, but he has his reasons).

The Devil's Hands are Idle Playthings (8/?, M, warnings: CNTW) by Sethrial/@rockshitty - I always love a good modern AU, and this is an excellent one with a supernatural twist. Seth is really good at including heavy plot points with the right dose of dark humour, and at writing realistic banter (the chats between Caleb's colleagues are a highlight). Being the demon that haunts night-shift worker Caleb, Molly features heavily in this fic, and he's an obnoxious, mephistophelian delight.

[bagerfluff]

My Heart On A Platter

Non-Binary Reader x Male Character

TW: Blood, Gore, Murder, Self Harm, Suicide

His eyes traveled the room.

He had never been in the basement, you had bought the house. You had found it, you had talked to the seller. You just said that the basement wasn't finished.

That it was dangerous, it needed to be finished and that you'd do it all with the help of professionals. He didn't think about it, it was a little weird.

He just thought after a while he'd be able to go down there, but he never was able to. Year, after year, after year. You just said you needed more time.

He found it weird, you really wanted a house with a basement. It was something you said when you both started looking for a house of your own.

Yet, here you were, forced to fix a basement that never seemed to be fixed.

Soon, he forgot. He just walked past the basement with no thought, like it wasn't even there. He didn't ask about it, he didn't talk about it. It was almost like the basement didn't existed.

Till it started happening.

You both had moved far away from where you both lived. So he started making new friends, you made more friends too. Though, it seemed different.

He got jealous, nervous.

You, didn't have the best start to life.

So you found comfort in friends, you made so many friends, so easily. He thought, what if, what if you didn't like him any more. He's heard stories about how moving in together could break couples apart if they weren't ready.

"I love you, more then anything, more then anyone".

"Believe me. You Have My Heart".

You said, hands roaming his body. Pulling him close, so close that your chest were bumping against each other. Whispers traveled the air, from your mouth to his ears.

You lips graced his ears, making him shiver and hold you tighter. "Really?" he asked, voice wavering, full of fear. You pulled away and leaned closer to him.

Forehead pressed against each other, eyes boring in to each other. You smiled, big, mouth closed, eye wide. "Of course", you said. Leaning in and pressing a kiss to his lips.

"You Have My Heart".

It was only a year later when he heard something in the basement.

You weren't in bed, why where you up fixing the basement? So he went to see what you were doing, he kinda wishes he hadn't now, he should have stayed in bed.

His eyes traveled the room.

The basement was done, it was fully finished. It was pretty small, surprisingly small considering how big the house was. But, axes, knifes, hammers lined the walls.

Tables pushed under them. Paper, books, drawings, so many things that made his skin crawl and goose bumps form. He looked the other way.

A cork board, with pictures, notes, strings. He more towards it, his slippers thumping against the ground. He couldn't really see, so he pulled a string hanging from the ceiling.

His eyes widened from what he saw.

It was your friends, the people you had hanged out with, talked with, got food with. Their pictures, their homes, their families. All of them. Notes, so many notes with things starting their lives.

Where they work, what path they take, how long they work, the times they work. Everything, oh everything. He took a step back, just to hear that he stepped in something.

He looked down, just to see red.

He moved back a few more steps, now at the base of the stairs. With a trail of bloody footprints following him. He shook a bit, what the fuck was this. What was happening?

"Hello Love".

His head snapped up, turning to face you. He looked you up and down. You had a knife in your hand, a knife with blood dripping on the floor.

"H-hey Y/n. W-what's t-this?"

He asked, turning to face you, eyes franticly looking over you. Dirty closes, messy up hair, blood stained hands. It was too much, too fast, too creepy.

"Oh. this", you said. Pointing to the board and the table and behind you. "It's for you", you said with a smile. That same smile. "m-me?" He asks.

Stepping forward a few times. Now only a few feet away from you. He glanced over your shoulder, see a hand peaking out of the shadows. With bloody foot prints following you.

He stepped back just for you to grab his wrist.

You pulled him close, pressing his chest against yours. "This is all for you", you whispered. "Look", you said, turning your head behind you. he glanced over your shoulder.

His eyes widened.

All of them, dead, they were in the shadows. Bodies limp with blood spilling out of them. He could barely see them, but they were there. "All for you", you whispered.

Breath against his ear, making him shiver. "You didn't like them did you", you said. Breath still ghosting his ear, making him look the other way.

"You were jealous, thinking that they'd take me away from you", you pulled away, letting go of his wrist and taking his chin in your hand. Making him look at you, stare at you.

"So I had to get ride of them", you smiled. "I couldn't lose you", you said. You let go of his chin and stepped back. You turned around and reached into the shadows.

You pulled out a plate.

"Hold this", you said. His hands shook as he grabbed the plate. Holding it with both hands under neither his chest. He looked back up, just to see you smiling.

Holding the knife to your chest.

"Do you remember what I said?"

You asked, just for him to realize it to late.

He almost dropped the plate, you had plunged the knife in your chest. He stared, unable to look away, he had chosen freeze. he stared with so much disbelief.

He could see and hear it all, as you craved your own chest open, carving a circle around your heart. You just smiled, blood poured from your chest.

Staining your hand, then your clothes, then the floor, then his feet. You pulled the knife out and stabbed your self. You ripped your chest out, throwing it somewhere to the side.

He stared, he could see your heart beat in your chest.

You reached in a pulled it out.

He watched with shacky breaths, shacking limps, and wide eyes as you placed your own heart on the plate. It was still beating, you were still alive.

"My Heart On A Platter, for you. You Have My Heart".

[ludcake]

can you tell us more about your oc cassanna? we’re piecing together her backstory with a cork board and some string rn

ok you literally do not KNOW how much i have of her. I'm currently writing a dedicated halloween fanfiction of her with the Red Keep-as-monster because I felt like it was a vibe. She's everything to me she's my baby.

Casanna Lannister (with one S because it looks nicer and medieval languages have no consistency :D) is the only child of the Lord of Lannisport. Her mother was Jocasta Reyne, who died in childbirth after several previous miscarriages - and her father, Lord Tommen Lannister, was completely wracked with guilt. (After having pushed his wife to *that*, of course. Because the guilt only matters when it can't be helped anymore.)

Her father turned into a total catholic religious freak. Just, self-flagellation, fasting, wearing hair shirts, threw away the entire finances of House Lannister of Lannisport into giving money to charity and the Faith. Complete freak. He thinks that he's sinned for the murder of his wife and must repent to the Seven and is carrying that guilt *everywhere*.

Meanwhile, little Casanna was being raised by Septas like a proper little lady - except she was very sick. Or rather, very frail - frail on the level of the Maesters saying "she probably won't make it to six", except that since her father sees her survival as the imperative to his own moral redemption, he went crazy on it. Got the entire court praying for her recovery, didn't trust any maesters to touch her, regular leechings performed by the Septon - and while she hung on there as a child, things still weren't great.

That is, until Septon Joffrey showed up.

He was a wandering Septon, who'd taken vows of poverty, and no Septry would take him for his own... Unorthodox views; he was an expelled acolyte of the Citadel, because he saw the Seven and scripture as utterly paramount, to the point of getting into fistfights with his peers over it. Still, he was charismatic; he was a young man at the time, and he was invited into the keep of the Lannisters, as Tommen saw all men and women of faith, and he offered his services.

Casanna improved, and he tutored her. He taught her that the Seven were also One-in-Seven; that the Stranger and the Warrior were just as worthy aspirations for her as the Maiden and the Mother. She'd never be a mother, she replied; the maesters had told her, she did not have the constitution for it. He assured she could find still solace in the Seven, that Maiden-Mother-Crone wasn't all of God's teachings she could hold; his teachings as Maester worked pretty well, and her health recovered considerably, enough she could hang out with other children - enough that he was made Lord Tommen's right hand for it, given the resources of the realm, feast and gold alike at his fingertips.

She was twelve when she was first betrothed to be married, to a third cousin of the main Lannister line; she was twelve when she watched him, twice her age, bring out a mountain lioness to be slain in her name, to honor her, and watched the lioness maul him. Lord Tommen insisted that Septon Joffrey treat him, against the advice of his liege; when the cousin died, Joffrey was cast away.

Five more times she was betrothed, and five more times tragedy befell them; men from the Westerlands, Reach, Riverlands, as far away as Dorne came to ask for the hand of a child upon whom rested the possessions of Lannisport, third and fourth sons aiming to have something to their name. She rejected them all, a sad and small child, who did not wish to see tragedy again.

By pressure from her uncle, who wished to be heir to Lannisport - and by the other houses of the city, who saw her as an unreliable heir - she was sent away, to King's Landing, at the age of sixteen to be a lady in waiting to a princess. And here's where things diverge.

The *main* version of her is from the RP server I run, Birthright, and it's where a lot of her being crazy comes from; there, Daeron the Daring became King after the death of Aegon II, and things spiraled out from there to a general Green Victory. In that scenario, she's lady in waiting to Princess Rhaenara Targaryen, whom she fell in love with - and who loved her back, until Rhaenara was betrothed to Casanna's cousin through the Reyne line, who is the Lord of Casterly Rock. The main thing is that Casanna's approach to that relationship is... Very toxic, and very central to her character - she cannot be a maiden anymore, but she'll never be a mother. She used to fantasize about being a knight to her Princess, but someone else took that away. She created her confidence around being her confidante, about serving her, and her father died and she put a crown on the Princess' forehead and now the realm is dying and the gods aren't answering her prayers and she has to grip onto the idea of that idyllic, perfect relationship she had in her teenage years with all her might because otherwise there might be nothing left. So she became Lady Confessor and Mistress of Whisperers, and she can't handle the torture and murder, but she doesn't stand being unable to serve, so she pushes on and punishes herself through hurting others, including, ultimately, one of the hostages at the Red Keep - Daenaera Stone - whom she slowly falls for after months of very much being in a position of almost killing her, because Daenaera has accepted death enough that it's the only moment of peace Casanna has now. Because they can just sit together, and talk, and hate each other, and that's as good as bliss. Because nowhere else can she be like that. Because she can say the truth, because she can say what she feels, because she knows nobody will ever believe a prisoner. Nobody will ever listen to the words of a madwoman. A dead woman.

MEANWHILE, there's several other versions of her I play with. The constant with her are - toxic catholicism, usually involving the worship of a person as an outlet for her own frustrations with herself (my sin doesn't count if it's for them) and - being gay and also really mad that she can't be straight and have children and a husband and feeling lonely and isolated because of it, because in a society where the worth of a woman is measured by her womb, by her beauty, what happens when you can't have children, when you can't love men, and you're aging??

The main version I'm playing with for my Halloween fic is one wherein she's a lady-in-waiting to Cersei during AFFC, and her obsession revolves both around Cersei but ALSO around the Red Keep itself, and thinning the line between the two as an entity until the ghosts of the Red Keep eat her because the Red Keep is alive and is also a monster.

I can talk a lot about her, but just gonna. Leave this bit from a scene where I'm writing her.

Lady Confessor. My due was to be her Hand, to rule Lannisport, to sit beside her, that our blood be one and our flesh be united; my due was to speak as her voice, to act as her will, to breathe at her command and caress her as leal companion. Rather, mine is the charge of dungeons, of torture, of questions and answers, of the dread that come to men's hearts when they hear the whisper of her name; mine is the charge of spycraft and rats, of shadows and death, the Stranger's work. A lioness ought to have her pride, but none may hear me roar. Casanna's heart weighed and sunk deeper into her gut, that ever demanding ache for a past she'd lost a millstone round her neck; for sweet spring days where she blossomed to a woman, laying beside her heart's delight, her deepest desire. Those few nights not plagued by terrors, the images of her father's ghost haunting her, of Aegon, of Rhaegar, of the King and Lord Mallister passing to her eyes, their dead eyes, final sigh, their blood drowning her - those few nights not plagued by the weight of her actions, she dreamt of how her hair smelled in those drowsy mornings, of how the sun shone to her face, how her skin felt to her fingers, her voice to her ears. Her hands shook and spilled ink over the parchment, staining the words she'd penned; her ears echoed the sound of screaming, the insults and the sobbing, the pain and the despair of the Black Cells she now oversaw. A lady is never fazed by her circumstances; merely inconvenienced, the voice of Joff returned to her. The Seven made each of us in Their image, and given us the duty and the right to take Their Works into our hands - Maiden and Crone, Warrior and Smith, Mother and Father, even the Stranger; righteousness and piety comes through all.

She'd crowned her, laid the steel circlet to her forehead and proclaimed her Queen as she'd done a thousand times amid kisses and whispers; yet though her gaze still lay fondly upon Casanna, the duties of a Queen called her away - the realm tore itself apart for the grief they shared, the grief which parted them, the grief neither knew how to bear. Had it been a mistake, she'd questioned? Had she taken to action too quickly, and now she'd share the fate of the Black Queen's favourites, her Queen given to the flames? Her cousin had taken her from Casanna, wed her, given her a swollen belly and a happy smile through sorrow and thorn; Master of Laws, Warden of the West, Lord of Casterly Rock, Shield of Lannisport - yet that shield did nothing to prevent the incoming blow from the Ironborn. That shield let her father die, gave away her birthright, the Rock that now stole her treasures. She penned down her letter again; to a cousin she'd grown beside, a Lannett of a cadet line, a boy when they'd last met and now a man grown. Were her father alive, he may have encouraged that she match her hand to his, so the line may persist beside another junior of the Rock; rather, he'd serve as her castellan and first officer so long as she remain in King's Landing - she'd hoped that mayhap she may charge him with the affairs of the Rock, too, if she could persuade her cousin, but he now went to campaign, warring across the Riverlands, reaping the seeds of rebellion she'd sowed. Encased within the envelope to be sent was a badge of office - a golden key with the bow of a lion, twinkling eyes of sapphire and fangs of ivory. She had five made - one for herself, one for Lord Damon, one for Ser Lannett and the two remaining ones... Well, she needed bait to find new stakeholders.

The Golden Bank of Lannisport - as it would be called, as per its charter - was to finance the reconstruction of the city, a new fleet for the Rock, to rival Oldtown and even the Free Cities; without Gulltown or White Harbour beside the Queen, her domain may expand, and though her holdings would always be those of a cadet, she may find fortune elsewhere. Or so ran the thought. Lord Royce had passed not a week before, and the rotting smell of his body still stained her clothes, she felt; her hands seemed bloodied no matter how much she washed them, and she could hardly focus anymore, her tired expression hidden by the steady work of her servants and ointments and paint from lands as distant as Lorath and Yunkai. Casanna had torn the realm apart, laid beside a woman, killed those who trusted her; it had been the Seven's own punishment that she lose all that she love most, that she be shackled like a hound, that she be put to serve her Queen as her left hand, do the darkest bidding and shed the blood and whisper the evils necessary for the realm. She had her duty, and she'd do it to her best ability - but her heart hurt that she felt it unrewarding, a punishment, her mind taken by guilt she'd never felt before. Casanna had never questioned the direction her heart took her, the winding roads that service to her Princess led her through; she'd lied and betrayed, she'd even been accomplice to death when it was required - but that was when she was rewarded with kind words and caresses, when they were one, when she still held out hope they may be together, as the Maiden's light bless them. Now she was a spinster, a gaoler, a rat-catcher in the walls; Mistress of Whisperers, Lady Confessor, Child of the Stranger, a bloodied sapphire to adorn her Queen's crown. No true lioness should be sneaking about without a pride to follow her.

What had once been the Queen's was now hers, and she sat at her chair on the Small Council; as she busied herself with royal affairs, now Casanna looked after the wyrms and drakes along the realm, whose whispers and blades served the line of the dragon. They said the usurper courted the favour of the Iron Bank of Braavos, and that the Rogares lay close with the court at Sunspear - the Martell had not yet recognised the legitimacy of Her Grace's reign, but they'd always been a troublesome lot. She set the letter aside upon a stacking pile of missives to be sent to the rookery by a servant; her livelihood had become to writ letters, learn the weakness of flesh and bone, demand answers, reminisce and fall to night terrors, at times interrupted by the counsel of the Small Council. Her cousin rode out to the Riverlands, her Queen was beset by treason and flattery; Casanna's affairs were not war, and war was all the realm was set against. She'd grown in times of peace, blossomed to a woman in strife, but when it came again, she was beset by matters she'd not learned, powerless in the face of it all. She paused, and cleaned after her desk, standing up and taking a deep breath - her corset felt tight around her waist, months of indulgence to hippocras and honeyfingers to console her heart taking their toll on her shape. She'd not gone out hunting or riding on horseback since the Great Council, and she missed the fresh air of the open fields of the Kingswood; but duty took its price, and it was rather that than her blood. The Lady Confessor placed her cloak upon her shoulders, and pinned it together with a golden brooch; with firm steps, she ran down the stairs, the stink and musk of the gaol bringing her insides to a simmer. She withdrew a dagger, a pretty dirk from Lys, and got well to work. For the Queen.

[blackcatruse]

𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔞𝔰𝔥𝔢𝔰

«prev. ❃ next» ❃ first chapter ❃ m.list ❃ ao3 pairing: r. haitani/fem!reader  ↳ she/her, fem descriptors, nickname ❃ chapter synopsis: i want answers. what the hell is going on? is the information worth the price? word count: 2.4k chapter cw(s): swearing, possible ooc, mention and slight depiction of suicide a/n: as of the day i'm queuing this up (6.25.24) we have officially caught up to where ashes is on ao3! \-^o^-/ ao3 will still be updated first, and tumblr will hopefully be shortly after.

When you woke, the only thing you remembered dreaming about was your old apartment. Again, it was the day you found your mother’s body, but you weren’t reliving the day. The bathroom was all wrong, too. It was way bigger than the one from your childhood. There was light blue tile on the walls and floor. A shallow layer of water covered the whole floor, with hints of rusty orange that seemed to curl around your foot with each step you took.

At the far end of the room the porcelain tub and your mother’s limp arm dangled over the edge, dripping blood into the water. On her forearm you saw it—that endless knot. Was that what was on her arm when you found her? You remember that there was something, but it was the first you knew of it. You don’t remember your mother having any tattoos. But she always wore long sleeves, even in the sweltering heat of summer.

It was possible that all the information you and Shika had compiled was influencing what you dreamed. The endless knot tattoo was superimposed on your mother’s arm because your brain wanted to make sense of it. Everything was a clusterfuck and you wanted to hibernate until the end of the world.

Unfortunately, you were graced to live another day. You ambled into your living room and saw Shika in the kitchen. You sniffed to make sure nothing was burning. Whatever she was making smelled good, but you had no idea what was in it because you didn’t know what food you had on hand. The rumble of the dryer reminded you that you’d forgotten to move Shika’s clothes from the wash.

“Rise and shine,” Shika said, focusing on whatever was in the skillet.

“What did you find to make?”

“Nothing. Your cabinets are empty.”

“Ah, just like my soul.”

Shika glared at you and you stuck out your tongue. She rolled her eyes before saying, “I ran down to the convenience store and got one of those heat and eat things.”

“A classic,” you said, nodding. You flopped down onto your sofa and noticed the blanket neatly folded on the opposite end. Your coffee table was still littered with your conspiracy theory. There was something legible on the scraps of paper.

“Did you rewrite all my bullshit?” you asked.

“Woke up and couldn’t fall back asleep,” Shika admitted. “We should get a cork board, push pins, and red string. Everything is so fucked about this.”

You snorted, “You’re telling me! Ugh.”

There was a comfortable silence before you remembered something you wanted to gossip about that you didn’t mention last night.

“Did you know Kirin had a wife?” you asked.

Shika dropped the wooden spoon with a clatter. “What?! There’s no fucking way. Wait, you said had.”

You nodded, even though Shika wouldn’t see it. “Yeah, Miko told me that Kirin has a grudge against her because she could save his wife or lover.”

“There’s no way that man was ever married. Maybe an arranged marriage, I guess. Something about gang politics?”

“That would make the most sense,” you agreed. “I’m so confused about everything and the Four Symbols know more than they’re letting on.”

“Without a doubt.” Shika nodded in affirmation.

“I’m going to talk to Suzaku,” you said.

That caught Shika’s attention. She looked at you with wide eyes before her brow crumpled with concern. “After everything that’s gone down,” she started hesitantly.

“I appreciate your concern, truly, but I can’t stay cooped up here and in the dark. If they know something, I want to know it.”

“What will you barter with?” Shika asked. There were unspoken words between you two: Knowledge always came at a price. “Everything you told me involves the secret spy missions you’re going on with the Haitanis.”

Shika had a point, and you hated that she did. “Okay, you got me there. I guess I can try to lie my way through it. If he beats me up, it’ll be nothing new.” You shrugged. “I also heard from Nezumi that my regulars are getting antsy.”

“They are. I did some of his—well, yours, I guess—jobs last week. They’re not happy dealing with new faces, and they want to call bullshit on you being sick.”

“Everything is going to hell,” you concluded after a long, ruminating pause. “They’re gonna have to figure out if I’m worth more than the money they’re gonna lose out on if the deals expire.”

“Suzaku announced at the last division meeting that he was looking for your replacement. They’d take your regular route and form some kind of bond with them.”

“What?!”

“Yeah, Suzaku said something about someone promising to pull more money than you ever did.”

“Big words,” you muttered.

“We all thought so too. Aside from me, Hato, and Nezumi, people were furious that someone who they’ve never met was just going to step into the top spot. They were all clamoring about how they had been doing their jobs longer and they deserved a ‘promotion’.” Shika’s sarcasm combined with the air quotes drew a small laugh out of you. “It’s like they think this is some boring nine-to-five office job.”

“I think it would be good to go visit Suzaku,” you said. “I want answers. And I want to meet my replacement.”

You heard Shika sigh loudly. “Fine,” she said. “But eat breakfast first.”

Every day was a new opportunity to piss Suzaku off. You could see in his head that he was delivering you to hell himself, but you just smiled and waved. “I started getting lonely, you know,” you said. “And stir crazy. I don’t want to stay cooped up anymore.”

Suzaku leaned back in his oversized, cracked leather chair and looked at the ceiling. His lips moved in a quiet countdown then he took a deep breath and sat back up. “They’re Kirin’s direct commands,” he said.

“Does Kirin know you’re on the verge of losing some of the regulars I brought in?”

Suzaku sucked in a sharp breath. “You heard about that?”

“People talk,” you said. “And I have friends now, they tell me everything. Looks like your hands are tied. Who’s my replacement? Am I just going to play prisoner with my debts frozen for an indeterminate amount of time? Seems like a waste.”

“We’re waiting on more information,” Suzaku started carefully. You knew immediately he was talking out of his ass. No more orders had been given and Suzaku was hoping some vague excuse was enough to keep you from asking.

“You’re lying,” you said simply. “There’s been no other orders or information. Did Kirin even tell you the real reason I’m locked up?”

“He didn’t have to tell me,” Suzaku growled through gritted teeth. “We already have an idea of who’s after you. Genbu’s men have been busy lately, gathering intel so we can get you back on the street.”

“Who’s after me?” you asked boldly.

“You wouldn’t gain anything from knowing.” Suzaku’s eyes narrowed. “They’re not someone you’ve heard of.”

“If they’re after me, I deserve to know.”

“You don’t deserve shit!” Suzaku lunged so fast you flinched. His fist slammed down on his sturdy desk and he glared at you. Real, genuine anger burned behind his eyes and it knocked you down a few pegs. You took a subtle step back, but you weren’t leaving without answers.

“Who are they?” you asked again. You decided to push your luck with a white lie. “They’ve all got the same tattoo, the endless knot or whatever? I saw it on one of the guys in the fake deal.”

You watched Suzaku’s resolve falter. You almost thought about revealing what Miko told you, but you weren’t about to endanger her. Suzaku flopped back in his chair. He put his arm over his eyes. You took advantage of his silence and pushed on, “What do they want from me? How do they know about me?”

“Lotus,” Suzaku sounded tired. You would’ve pitied him had he not contributed to the downfall of your youth. “What benefit does that information give you?”

I can pass information on to the Haitanis, you thought. Out loud you said, “If they’re going to be a persistent problem, then I deserve to know before I get back out there. It’s been a while and I’m still being held hostage in my own apartment. You haven’t found out shit. You know I’m good about snooping around. I could—”

“Nobody else will be familiar with them,” Suzaku cut you off. “As far as anyone knows, they’re ghosts that haunt Kirin. Stray members who off themselves after they’ve said their piece.”

“They were trying to break me with Hifumi’s and Kichiro’s deaths. There was no reason to kill them. They communicated through a third party and would know nothing about the true culprits,” you pointed out. “I’m good at what I do, but I’m not that well known.”

“The boys were an unfortunate loss,” Suzaku said, almost sounding like he was sorry. “They got tangled up into something bigger than them, and it caught up. Don’t take it personally.”

“I don’t want Shika, Nezumi, or definitely-Hato harmed because of their involvement with me,” you said. “They’re your other top runners, so you can’t risk them as well.”

The four of you were at the top for a reason. You weren’t afraid to get your hands dirty. You did what was necessary to pull in money. Others in the division may covet your positions, but they didn’t have the wits, determination, or guts to be at the top. They wouldn’t be able to adapt as quickly as you four. Suzaku was already down to three of his top four, and his number one was in isolation. Wuxing was going to take a hit they couldn’t afford, literally and figuratively, if things kept up like this. You had to play this in your favor. How could you spin it so this information is going to help you? You could make a bargain. You were pretty good at that.

“Rumor has it you’ve found a replacement for me,” you said. Suzaku’s eyes narrowed, but you ignored him and went on, “I will personally train them and then stay cooped up as long as you need me to. Just tell me who’s after me and why, or at least, why you think they’re after me. They know about my family, and that’s not common knowledge.”

At least Suzaku had the decency to look torn about making a decision. “He has been running with Nezumi,” he started, keeping the name of your replacement to himself.

“But my regulars don’t like Nezumi. They made a deal with me, so they want to do business with me. If I personally endorse this newcomer, they’ll be more accepting. I pass the baton to the new guy and retire until further notice, and you tell me what the fuck you know.”

“Allow me to make a call,” Suzaku said, standing up and swiping his burner off his desk. He strode past you and out the heavy door, which slammed behind him.

The door cracked open and you saw Shika looking around the corner. You had asked her to stay outside because it made you feel better. She was also going to be back up if you and Suzaku got into one of your regular screaming matches. You were overdue for one.

“He looks like you’ve got him cornered,” Shika said. “Shit must be real bad if he’s actually considering your bargain.”

“Shika, please,” you whined. “I know how he ticks and what cards to play. I can gamble with confidence against the boss.”

“And how many black eyes did that give you?”

“Well, I’ve only got two eyes so—”

Your banter was cut off when you heard Suzaku greet Shika. She simply dipped her head respectfully and moved out of sight. Suzaku walked into his office and behind his desk. He pulled open a few drawers and tossed an envelope on the desk. He then took a cigarette and a lighter from another drawer. He lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply, before exhaling a cloud of smoke that made you cough.

“Take a seat,” he said, not looking at you. His hand gestured vaguely to the two straight-backed chairs in front of his desk. “I got clearance from Kirin to tell you very limited details. On top of your bargain, he wants you to add ten percent more to your debt.”

“Only ten percent?” That was news to you. You figured it’d be a higher percentage. You weren’t sure what you owed them anyway and it didn’t matter that much if you took on more. It would maybe cause problems when Kakucho tried to batter your freedom, but you doubted Wuxing would let you go so easily. Still, you had to hope or you’d find yourself splattered on the pavement.

With all the shit going on, the negotiation for your freedom would be pointless. But, if you passed along your duties and restored your business relationships, they wouldn’t really have a need for you. You figured they’d either shoot you in the head or let you walk free. If you had no gang affiliation, you wouldn’t be able to make new deals. It wasn’t like you were having any luck with them now.

Ten percent of your current, unknown but likely insurmountable, debt was a paltry sum to pay for information. Maybe Rokuhara could help you find some things out. They could help you put pieces together, but not without a price. What did you have to offer them? Maybe you should instead offer to work for Rokuhara instead of going for absolute freedom. It wasn’t easy to escape this life. And you’d take Kakucho over Suzaku any day. At the very least, you’d be free of Wuxing’s clutches. Nezumi and definitely-Hato were going to be released from their contracts soon, and Shika could leave any time she wanted as long as she tied up any loose ends. If you got out, you wanted to make sure they got out unscathed too.

“Fine,” you agreed. “What’s another drop in the bucket, eh?” You took a seat in the uncomfortable chair to your right and lazily crossed your legs. “So what can you tell me?”

Please do not reupload, translate, or steal my work! If it isn't here or on my ao3, it's not me! Likes & reblogs appreciated! <3 Dividers courtesy of @/cafekitsune & @/firefly-graphics

[thenopequeen]

okay I am going to go on the rant, although this might not be 100% what I said eairiler IRL because there are some things that are only able to be communicated via hand gesters and stutters.

Also I am aware I sound very Red String on Cork Board. I am open to taking criticism. um but gentle if possible.

So to start, let's look at the actual role given to Racer (I will be using either Race or Racer as it's a bit easier to type out and are the names used to refer to him in the broadway musical which is what I'm most familiar with.). Oh and when coming to anything specific I will be referring to the recorded 2017 version because that's the one I've got a link to so I can watch it while reading fanfics or drawing (/srs. i do do this)

Race is listed as a background/ensemble character in any source I can find (although I could be missing some). however, his actions/overall role in the story are more comparable to Crutchie, who is listed as a supporting character.

This is heavy evidence for placing him as a supporting character, however what makes it interesting is that Racer almost seems to be favored over the other background characters.

About 50% of his dialogue could be given to another character and it literally would not impact the plot much, unlike the other supporting characters, who are unthinkable to replace in anyway shape or form.

If we're continuing comparing Race to Crutchie, which I will because they share the most similarities role-wise, those two are the ones with the most prominent solo lines. Racer has several from multiple songs (King of New York, Carrying the Banner, and Once and For All include at least one solo line that could technically be given to literally anybody else), and Crutchie has a few solo lines and a song to himself. Actually if you remove the tap section, King of New York could be potentially read as the closest thing we get to a 'side' character having a song. Literally all the other songs are group focused when it comes to singing, or are done by main/supporting/antagonistic characters. Racer carries King of New York, setting a wonderful tone with the conversation just before the song starts, as well as his very over the top energy that is present through out the entire song. Okay I also have a soft spot for the song because it was the first song I ever did a tap dance too last year (nowhere near as impressive as the show but it was cool)

Racer also is in at least TWO scenes where he doesn't technically need to be there. First off, the one where it's easier to explain: the scene just before Once and For All, where the gang is at the printing press. Technically, Race doesn't need to be down there in the first place. While yes, it's probably so he knows the way to direct the others into the room, he doesn't need to be there in the moment. This is also never explained in literally anyway. he's just there. Technicality, he could follow the trail of unlocked doors or somebody could bring him in. While this is technically grasping at straws I will stand by this. The second is a really minor thing that you'll only notice if (like me) you've watched this musical enough that you can quote a good part of it.

So in the scene where Jack is teaching Davey and Les to sell papes that ends with them getting chased to the theater, if you look closely you'll see a familiar face

I have rewatched this scene several times to make sure it's Race. it is. Why is he there. Literally the only other people in this scene are the passbyers who buy a paper, Synder, and the trio. Why is Racer here. He just kinda vibes. I still want an explanation because EVERYBODY ELSE leaves the stage quickly. WHY IS HE THERE???

Now to quickly break into the more IRL universe, in the cast call of this production, which my brother watches so so often (he wants to do musical theater), Racer;s actor is NOT listed with the other newsies. Even Spot, who is listed as support/featured in most sources, is just grouped into the rest of the ensemble. Instead, Racer is grouped in with the Delancey brothers. I still don't understand this.

This is your reminder that Race is listed as ensemble by literally all sources I could be bothered to find.

On top of this, in both the movie and the show, he's one of the most named 'background' newsies. While I've only seen the movie a grand total of once (didn't like the music in the slightest), Racer is a character you see A LOT. Sometimes he's not really doing much, but he's there.

In the musical this is in part because there is so much personality packed into him, but still. Elmer and Albert also have a lot of personality and yet I still find that Racer feels like he has more screentime.

On top of this, Racer is present in literally ever scene with all the newsies. And ALWAYS as Racer.

Anyways this is a slightly unhinged rant. Also if you haven't figured it out Racer is my favorite character.

Yeah idk how that happened.

Anyways agree with your sister that Racer is a supporting character. at least in everything but casting.

The cynical part of me says it's so the producers can get away with paying the actor less. The deranged crossover nerd in me says he's a Watcher

[kieransyphe]

[ KIERAN SYPHE — LEVEL 05 — PATH ]

as the son of thanatos, kieran had answered the call of his blood. from drinking the ambrosia to making friends to watching others almost die, he soon realizes there is no turning back. divinity ran through his veins just as much as oxygen and blood, if not more. for kieran and his friends it was now either life or death …

kieran finds himself in peaceful slumber, perhaps one of the first real one since he answered the call. lying in his burial pit, arms crossed over his chest the son of thanatos could almost pass as a body freshly dead, awaiting burial, as he lets this rare slumber take over him. there is no other beside him to soothe his nightmares and yet he thinks nothing of how strange this oddity is.

at least not at first.

something soon begins to stir within him. a soft thrum similar to the starting chord from a guitar at a rock concert. it vibrates within him, shaking his body all the way down to his very soul. it is familiar to him but kieran can not seem to put his finger on what the song is called or where he had heard it before. as it grows louder and louder, it felt like it was reaching inside his chest and wrapping its long tendrils around his heart and tugging almost in an aching way.

louder. louder. louder. the song calls to him, the tempo growing faster the like a runaway train. his heart, pounded in his chest trying to match the tempo while struggling to break free from the invisible hold it was in. kieran can not wake no matter how hard he tries wanting this nightmare to end, to go back to his normal visions of dead.

the song grows and grows, divinity calling to him and the son of thanatos must answer. finally with a harsh tug on that invisible hold, kieran opens his eyes with a loud gasp escaping him. lungs trying to gather all the oxygen they can as he glances around and realizes with a pit of dread deep inside him he is no longer at camp.

WHEN KIERAN OPENS HIS EYES, WHAT DOES HE SEE ? WHERE IS HE ? PLEASE DESCRIBE IT.

kieran didn't think he would ever be back here again ; staring at a beige ceiling marred by time. but he felt a semblance of comfort as he propped himself up on his elbows and looked around the room ────── still exactly the same as when he left it over a month ago. a small dingy motel room somewhere in nebraska, such a disorderly mess of autopsy files and newspaper clippings, red strings and a cork board laid-out on the floor with pictures of victims and their potential murderers. he missed this, having a purpose where he didn't have to always think about his own mortality. there was a fleeting thought : that everything he had gone through in the last month were nothing but a drawn-out nightmare. every friend, every foe, just a product of an overactive imagination. it wasn't that none of it mattered to him, but kieran would rather have this life than one plagued with death and duty. if this was another nightmare, then let it be the one he lingered in. though, there was still something missing here … " will ? " he called out. it had been so long since he had said his name, hoarded in his mouth along with all the secrets he kept, along with all the grief and guilt that scratched like barbs with every heartbeat. here, he should still be alive. shy smile, stupid mullet, all tatted up as evidence of every impulsive decision. but kieran liked him anyway. " will ? " again, like a prayer. like a wish.

its a stark difference between camp and this muted beige hotel room. not just in colors but also with how it makes him feel. he finds himself longing for this purpose; to be the one to find the truth for these people. these bodies that time had forgotten, police busy with other cases or simply not caring enough.

leah rowlands lelcey fike julie derrick sherry wounded foot

their names and faces are just a few of those that stare down at him from their spot on the wall. the red string a bright beacon that is a constant reminder of what he was looking for. what he left behind to answer the call inside him.

perhaps he is in a nightmare, or the last month had just been the nightmare but keiran now looks around trying to find the one thing missing here. eagerly looking, heart aching with anticipation. eyes searching the cheap motel room he looks for that familiar badly cut mullet and those impulsive tattoos. as he does so, something catches the corner of his eye. turning to stare at it to see if it really was the boy he was searching for, the figure slowly starts to come into focus. kerian is then able to see who or what the figure really is.

AS KEIRAN FOCUSES ON THE FIGURE, WHAT SHAPE DO THEY TAKE ? DOES HE RECOGNIZE WHO IT IS ? OR IS IT SOMETHING FROM HIS NIGHTMARES ? DESCRIBE WHAT THEY/IT LOOK LIKE AND WHAT SEEING THEM MAKES HIM FEEL.

of course, it was him. who else would it be ? no one else would ever cut their own hair, fuck it up terribly and still not go to a barber. no one else would have numerous tattoos of cat faces on their upper left arm when they were deathly allergic to cats. " you're wearing that shirt again. it's radioactive waste at this point, " a cool hawaiian shirt, they had been on this serial killing investigation slash roadtrip for weeks now but going to laundromats hadn't really been a big concern. not with limited funds that had to be spent between motel fees and gasoline. everything they owned must stink at this point, but kieran didn't really mind. no matter how morbid this whole thing was, doing this with will had been the first time he really felt alive in a very long time. and looking at will again, after what felt like such a long time, was like coming home after a really long day. all warmth in a way he had never experienced before. he laughed gently, though something bittersweet underlined each tone. maybe he was losing his mind, but he didn't know which was real anymore. " had a dream about this guy named lucifer, but then i also had this dream within the dream where there was a song stuck in my head but i couldn't for the life of me remember what it was. it was driving me insane. " he laughed again, in a teary way that he couldn't contain.

there he was. will. the boy who inspired him to start following cold cases. to step away from the computer and actually try to make a difference for these lost souls. for weeks now the two boys had been traveling and falling love along the way. their own small bubble of happiness. and there he was once again standing in front of kieran with his bright red hawaiian shirt smiling lazily at him.

" a dream ? " his nose scrunched up in playful confusion. "now that is a weird name. lu-ci-fer. like the devil ?" will takes a step closer stepping from where he had been standing by the hotel bathroom sink and now into the main part of the room. as he crossed over that threshold, it was as of something shifted inside him. those pale blue eyes snapped over to the bed and that shy, lazy smile fell.

" you killed me… " his voice was hallow as he kept his eyes on the bed. the very one their shared that night of euphoria and passion. exchanging more than just kisses. " key… you killed me… "

he wished his ghost could have been tender for a little longer. he wished his ghost wished he didn't have to be part of his nightmares just yet. but no matter how hard he tried to tuck him away under the floorboards of his mind, this was always bound to happen. every dead body appeared here one way or another, some screaming, some surrendering, and sooner or later will would be part of the god-awful abomination of mangled flesh and skittering limbs that always haunted his dreams. maybe that would be a comfort ────── a familiar face in the midst of all the horror, even if it would be his face smiling over him as that monstrosity and all its dirt-stained hands tried to suffocate and tear him apart from limb to limb. he closed his eyes for a moment as he took a deep inhale : it was time to face the music. a tender smile forced its way through guilt-soaked features, holding all the love he felt and could have felt for his best friend. he killed him. maybe it wasn't entirely his fault, that sudden surge of divinity tapping into his father's domain when it happened. but will was only telling him what he had always felt since that day. " i know… i know… i know… " he pushed back the tears, wiping away the sting as he nodded in agreement. he sat on the edge of the bed, still looking at will. " i'm sorry i didn't get the chance to burn you a playlist. " among all the other things he should be sorry for. but it was the stupid little moments they could have had that he mourned the most. " but i think it would have been a little cheesy. just how many songs about first loves could there be ? " a mirthless laugh as he confessed through the question, a tide of sadness washing over him and almost pulling him into an ocean of grief. and kieran had always been a bad swimmer, he would only drown if he let it. " i gotta go soon … "

" i loved you and you killed me… " the boy kept his eyes on the bed, his voice strained. as if he was trying to come to terms with his own death. the chase of that euphoric feeling one got with being someone else only to end with endless night. " i loved you and you killed me… " a record on repeat cycling over and over those words until--

a shift in his face. head snapping to look at kieran with crystal clarity. " you have to go ? why " that once lazy smile twisted into something a bit more ugly. " you are just going to leave me here ? again ? a coward just like the last time. i thought you wanted to solve unsolved cases, to help those families. and yet-- "

will tosses a newspaper at kieran landing on his lap with a thud.

DOES KIERAN LOOK AT THE NEWSPAPER. IF SO WHAT DOES HE SEE ? IS THERE A NAME THAT STICKS OUT MORE THAN THE OTHERS ? IF HE DOESNT LOOK IS THERE SOMETHING ELSE HE DOES INSTEAD ?

grief wrapped itself around his heart like barbed wires scratching and tearing at his insides with every beat. " i love you too, " was all he could say in the moment. kieran had been mourning for as long as he could remember ; grandparents, all those women murdered and forgotten by everyone else, and now first love. and it hurt him to see will look at him this way, with so much ugliness and disappointment ────── but so much had already changed in such a short amount of time, so many things to do and so many things to say but never enough of himself to go around. but before he could explain himself, attention pivoted towards the newspaper first ; an obituary for william briar giddings, missed by his mother and three sisters, remembered for always being full of life and always searching for something meaningful. and on the other page was him, kieran acheron syphe, missing, and possibly in connection with william giddings' untimely death. " i don't know … " a long pause, the tears starting to come back again but no matter how desperately he tried to push it all back, they just kept coming. he brought his palms to his eyes, almost as if pushing at his eyes just to hopelessly stop the floodgates of emotions from breaking any more. " i don't know what to do with everything that's in here. i'm sorry … i'm sorry … " a fist balled up, rubbing circles on his chest. like everything had been tangled up in there and he didn't know how to unravel the knots anymore. he was a coward. he was a coward. he was a coward. and no matter what ender or lucifer did to help him, maybe he would just always be this way. " i'm sorry. i didn't know what to do. i was scared and i left you here. " and he wondered how long it took for someone to find will's body, he wondered how his family felt to find out he had been just left behind like that. " and you were probably scared too, i'm sorry. "

it was those four little words that brought the boy's face back to what it had been before. no longer that ugly almost insane look but one full of love with a shy smile. " i was scared, so scared, " his words held no maliciousness or anger. just understanding. " but it's okay, key, i promise. you know why ? "

crossing the room he took the steps closer to kieran, the love of his life. he reaches out and places his hands over the ones gripping tight against the son of thanatos' chest. as if he could help take away that pain. " i am here with you. we are here together now. you are not alone. not anymore. things happen for a reason and if that means i had to die for your powers to be awaken, then it was worth it… "

comfort from those words were only ephemeral, his guilt and grief felt too overwhelming to find any solace in forgiveness. this could all just be happening in his head ; his mind telling him what he wanted to hear, but kieran couldn't trust the feeling. it wasn't okay. none of this was okay ────── not will's death, not these miraculous and hideous gifts as his birthright, and definitely not any kind of absolution. kieran felt like he deserved to be punished, even for the things he could not control. even if he was just a vessel for the fates' dirty work. he didn't want destiny. he didn't want things to happen for a reason. he didn't want any of this. he wanted to choose! he wanted to choose! he wanted to choose! but duty was a heavy burden, one all the demigods needed to carry for the sake of the world. it was an illusion of a choice : duty or watch the world's annihilation. but awareness did not lessen his resentment against. " it wasn't worth it … it's not worth anything. it's just something i have to carry now. " he shook his head. " it's a little better now, but it doesn't really take much to feel the way i felt back here. just so fucking scared and disgusted with myself and these powers in my veins. i feel like i still don't deserve to touch anyone again. " he had always hated touch but will changed things for him before he reverted back to the panic and disgust it made him feel. and things were changing again ; with ender, with lucifer … but fear still remained looming on the back of his mind. he choked out a laugh, still embarrassed to be seen in misery even when this didn't feel entirely real. " i wish you were really here, " he smiled apologetically, looking at will. " i don't know if i can really love someone again. "

nicotine stained fingers moved from his chest to cup his cheek, keeping one remained over his heart. " it was worth it, key. you are worth it. if anyone can help save the world it's you, " words were still soft and sweet as he lent his forehead against his, pale blue eyes shutting softly. two lovers in an embrace either reuniting or saying goodbye. " it's okay to be scared, i was scared remember ? " a soft almost wet chuckle escaped him, as if this ghost, this warped memory could still cry. " what matters is what you do with that. are you going to continue to be scared or are you going to try ? for me ? "

pulling back eyelashes fluttered open so he could meet his gaze. thumb stroking over his cheek bone to gather a lingering tear trying to erase the pain the son of thanatos was now feeling. softly will tilts his head as if he was leaning in for a kiss and whispers against his, " be brave and try for me. "

and then he shoves his hand into keiran's chest and tugs on his heart.

a gasp was ripped out of his throat at the hand suddenly plunged into chest, taking a captive hold of his heart. hands unconsciously reached up to hold will's arm, but kieran didn't stop him. kieran just kept on holding his gaze ; uncertain whether he should really trust the ghost of his first love. he had seen many ghosts now and what he found out was that most of them lingered out of love or revenge. and if this was for the latter, then maybe it was exactly what he deserved. " i'm trying. " he swallowed, letting the ghost keep his heart in his grasp. " i love you. "

one hand wrapped around his heart, the other on his cheek. will keeps his gaze on kieran, on the man that he killed and says again. " be brave and try for me. " he isn't actively trying to rip his heart out just yet. " show me. try harder. i want you to see how much i believe in you. what i know you can do. " a soft tug just enough to make him feel it. " do not be scared of the power that is within you. "

DOES KIERAN TRY TO BE BRAVE FOR WILL ? IF HE DOES TELL ME HOW HE ATTEMPTS TO DO THIS.

do not be scared of the power that is within you. it was one of those things easier said than done, especially when he was looking at a casualty of his own potential. it wasn't control over earth, wind, or fire ; but something so interconnected with life itself. something that would only disappear once they was nothing left to end. his hands shook and his breath trembled, but he wanted to be brave. for will. for lucifer. for ender. for winter. for everyone at camp. but he didn't rely on his divinity to keep him strong at first, but thought of such a man-made thing : hope. as long as death existed then so did hope. and he hoped to see will again. but right now, he'd rather go home to lucifer and tell him about this dream. he hoped to see a world without the threat of monsters. he hoped to go back to his old life and help the ones that had been forgotten again. " promise me you'll haunt me, " he smiled at will, bittersweet and full of tenderness. he kept his hold on will's arm as he finally tuning into the frequency of the song in his veins. " dum spiro spero, " he said under his breath. " promise me you'll haunt me, " he said again, hands radiating a dark mauve light, harnessing the powers of death and his grave touch to wither the ghost's grasp away from his heart.

the light that was in the pale blue eyes of will began to fade slowly as the son of thanatos' hands touched his, calling forth the power within him. " i knew you could do it… " it was affective, his grave touch but perhaps because this was a dream will hung on a little longer this time. slowly fading like smoke of his menthol cigarettes into thin air he manages to get out a " of course i will haunt you… you-- you think you can get rid of me that easily ? " skin full of life and color, rosey and pink, starts to turn into a light grey as the life was being drained quickly from him. " i knew the moment i met you i had no choice but to love you, key-- " voice a whisper and then---

then he was gone.

keiran finds himself in the beige motel room alone once again. death surrounded him, lingering in the air but he finds himself filled with something new and precious; hope. perhaps he can now see himself as someone who deserves to be loved by his friends, that can touch others without them dying. there was hope that he could not only help save this world but also hope that one day when this war was over he could go back hand in hand with the one he loved and continue to change it for the better.

with this new hope feeling inside him, kieran slowly wakes up from the nightmare/dream finding himself exactly where he had been earlier in that night. lying in the burial pit, arms crossed over his chest but instead of feeling that sense of dread and disgust with himself he feels that hope. but before he could sit up and rush off to lucifer, ender or winter a voice rings out in his head. one filled with love and pride:

" i knew you could do it… so uh how is this for haunting you ? "

PATH COMPLETE !

[amhrosina]

baby rosi i love when you do your ✨disappearing act✨ because it means youre brewing either the most delicious or most heartbreaking fics imaginable

LOL

right now i'm in the editing stage for the first few chapters of a new frank series i'm writing

i have the entire series mapped out in like multiple different documents all over the place and i honestly feel like that one picture of charlie from IASIP in front of the cork board with all the red string and he looks like he's on the verge of an absolute meltdown

i'd say it's the most accurate depiction of my headspace currently. i want to post the prologue and first chapter soon, but ideas for further development keep popping in my head at random times (i literally got out of the shower mid-shampoo the other day to write something in my notes) and i want it to be the best work i've ever published for some reason??? like i want to really really be proud of it, so i'm just making little polishes here and there and hoping they'll be ready to publish soon!!

i love you all and will be seeing y'all very soon!!! (i have the cover done, should i post it??? it's sad af but i love her sm)

[all-for-geek]

I Lost You Once Chapter 10: Nightmares

Chapter 9

Chapter 11

Word Count: 1,766

Fandom: Alex Bale/Don't Feed the Muse

Warnings: Grotesque Imagery and Fear

Summary: It's been a week since Kim's failed attempt to reach Mark. As they try to figure out their next step, old fears come back to haunt them.

Ramona tapped her tentacle on the desk impatiently. The loading bar on her screen inched along. This video seemed to be uploading even slower than the first one. Ramona didn’t think that that was possible.

It was silly, really. After all the torture, mutilation, and damage that had gone into getting these tapes, the hardest part of the process was sitting in a chair and waiting. To pass the time, Ramona pinned her focus back on the playback of the stolen footage. Maybe if she swept through it for the fifteenth time, she would find something new.

Shock and awe, she didn’t. At least this time she didn’t have to sit through the audio from that poor kid. She heard it enough when she was trapped in the lab. Ramona couldn’t help the little smirk that crept along her face when the video reached her section though. It was a shame she couldn’t find any of her grand escape in the files. Maybe it was in the corrupted footage. 

A part of her wondered if she was playing her hand too much with the warning at the end. When HMF finds these videos, if they haven’t found them already, it will confirm that it’s Ramona sending them. Ramona chuckled. She was starting to sound like Kim. Besides, the loading screen, finally, was done. No way was she sitting through that process again until she had a new video to release.

Ramona closed the laptop and walked out of the guest room that had become her home. On her way to the living room, she heard the rummaging of papers and muttered swears coming from Kim’s office. As Ramona stepped into the doorway, she saw Kim nursing a small prick on the tip of her finger, but her attention was quickly drawn to the massive cork board behind her friend. 

It was a full blown conspiracy board. Everything they knew, or suspected, about Happy Meat Farms was somewhere on it. Kim had even gone out of her way to include red string, connecting various pieces of information and theories. Ramona could help but stand in wonder.

“Wow.”

Kim turned around and shrugged nonchalantly. “I figured that having everything we know in front of us would be useful.”

“You don’t think you overdid it just by a touch,” Ramona asked teasingly. She stepped into the room to inspect the board.

“Don’t act like this is the weirdest thing I’ve done,” Kim countered. “The next video done?” 

“Finally,” Ramona muttered through gritted teeth.

“You know it will keep loading if you look away, right?”

“I know. I just like making sure that-” Ramona cut herself off as she stared at the cork board. She stared curiously at one of the photos. It was of her and Kim when they were kids on the farmland that could become HMF. She hadn’t seen the photo in decades.

“Why is this one on here?” Ramona asked.

“We’re a part of this too,” Kim answered. She bent down to pick up some of the papers on the floor, her hair obscuring her face. “It made sense to have a picture of us up there.”

“Yeah, but why-” Ramona was cut off again. At the top of the board was another picture. One Ramona’s mother had taken of the meteor shower over their farm all those years ago. That wasn’t up there before.

The longer Ramona stared at the board, the more pictures of her childhood appeared. Some she remembered being taken, others not. The older the photos became, the more the girl in them took on the monstrous form Ramona now had. In every photo, Ramona was taking care of the farm. The red string twisted to the point at the center.

The center photo was of the farm house on fire. The little girl, now fully transformed into the monstrous form she now had, stared and watched as the flames grew brighter. They flickered intensely in their monochrome glory. The wind picked up in the room, only just covering up the screams from her old home. 

Ramona’s eyes welled shut from the tears. The wind made the grass poke and prod at her stretched out skin. A reminder, a punishment, for what she had done.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I didn’t know…I didn’t think that it would-”

“There is no need to cry, my child.” That low, maternal voice echoed in Ramona’s head.

Ramona whipped her head around, the red glow of the sky beating down on her. She turned to see Kim still standing behind her. No, not Kim…

Connie’s face was void of any emotion. She opened her mouth, and Ramona recognized the voice that came out.

“You promised that you wouldn’t let us down,” Jared’s voice said. “Don’t let us down. Don’t let us down! DON’T LET US DOWN! DON’T LET US DOWN!” 

The fire spread from the house and encircled the two. Ramona jolted up in her bed screaming.

Kim was in the forest by her house. She was running. She was always running. HMF found them, and they had to run. Ramona and Connie were ahead of her, and she tried not to think about how she was falling behind.

The roots on the ground twisted and writhed as they tried to slow the three down. The creatures behind them howled in excitement. They sounded so much like real dogs, but Kim remembered. They haven’t been dogs for a long time.

The trees were closing in. Ramona and Connie were farther away. Kim’s legs burned with exhaustion. How much longer could she take this?

Kim got her answer as one of the creatures latched onto her leg, dragging her down. Its bite didn’t hurt, but it caused a numbness that began to spread up her thigh. Her scream finally caused Connie and Ramona to turn around.

Connie grabbed onto Kim’s arm and pulled. Kim felt like she was going to be split in two before she was shaken loose. She was forced to gasp in relief as Connie dropped her arm and focused on the other dogs circling around her. 

Kim was quickly losing all feeling in her body. She only realized she was being dragged away when her friends looked smaller in the distance. She used her last ounce of feeling to shift her gaze to Ramona. All she did was stare back.

A distorted scream erupted through the forest. It rescued Kim as her eyes popped open. The bright blue screen of her laptop, still open on her blog, woke her up in the most uncomfortable way. She ran to Ramona’s room.

Connie didn’t need sleep. Not in the way humans did at least. Her physical form would require time to regain its energy, but her mind never truly turned off. She was always aware. Even when she retreated into the deepest parts of her mind (a sensation she assumed was similar to dreaming), she could feel the hardwood floor of the attic beneath and the wind rippling through the thin walls. She tried to remind herself of those physical anchors as she stared at the vision her subconscious had given her.

It started out innocent enough. The blank, white space that had become her retreat over the years. It was calming to stare into the bright void and detach from the world for a while. When needed, she could mold this place for whatever she desired whether it be to reminisce or to solve a problem. Tonight, however, the void shifted against her will.

Her bright haven was sucked into a bottomless black hole. She thought for a moment that the void was broken, but then a singular light flicked to life. It revealed a dingy hallway ending in a red door. 

Connie froze in place. She knew what was behind that door. Even in her subconscious, She radiated power and beauty. A terrible beauty that threatened to suck you in and never let you go. Connie had not thought about Her in a very long time. And never this vividly.

“Come to me…”

Connie was helpless to stop herself as she opened the door.

Mother’s light shone brighter than Connie remembered. She stared in reverence as the weight of Mother’s power pushed Connie to her knees. A bug deep inside her whispered that this was bad. Connie was in danger. But its cries were growing quieter every second spent in Mother’s grace.

“My child, why have you not returned to me?”

The bug wanted to answer. It wanted to say how Mother would have tried to fix her, but would a fixed Connie still be Connie? But Connie knew that this was a bad thought and only hung her head in shame.

“Do not be discouraged, my child. There is always a path back home, no matter how far away you wander. You have done well in gaining the trust of your host. I can see a great path ahead for you, but you mustn’t delay. You have remained in phase one for too long. You must complete the process.”

The small but mighty bug yanked on Connie with all its might. It was enough for her to regain all of her senses before Ramona’s scream pierced the night. Connie winced at the sudden noise.

She creaked open the round window that looked out on the gardens that Kim took such tender care in. She needed to be away from Kim for the time being. For both their sakes.

The scream was reaching its end when Kim burst into Ramona’s room. Between the dark and the hair that covered her body, Kim couldn’t get a good look at her friend, but she could see her heavy breaths and shaking shoulders. Kim sat on the edge of the bed.

“Hey, Ramona, can you hear me?” It took a moment for Ramona to nod her head. Kim slowly reached over and grabbed the part of Ramona’s tentacle she assumed was the hand.

Ramona felt a gentle squeeze. She looked down to see Kim’s hand wrapped around her own. She met Kim’s eyes through her knotted hair. There wasn’t a spec of disgust or horror on Kim’s face. Ramona’s breath began to even out.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Of course,” Kim replied. They were silent for a moment. “Do you want to talk about it?” Ramona shook her head.

The two sat there like that for a while. Neither said anything. The silence was only interrupted by a notification from the phone on the nightstand. Ramona looked at it and her eyes widened.

“Carl’s going live.”

[1jemmagirl22]

So I was watching a PandaRed video when I remembered Tyler Hoechlin is in both Teen Wolf and Arrowverse. Then I started thinking, could I connect most of my favorite shows through the actors in them? 

Well this sent me down a spiral so now I’m going to spell it out, and in short connect most of my favorite shows, movies, and actors. I’m not even fucking kidding nearly every show or film I’ve ever adored connects to each other through enough convoluted pieces of metaphorical and literal red string. 

To start off we’re going to use Teen Wolf as a connecting point, the center of the board. That’s right, just imagine a big cork board Stiles Stilinski style packed with red string that’s what I’m laying out here.

From Teen Wolf we can diverge in a couple major directions. First we’ll take Tyler Hoechlin and jump to the CW. Using Tyler Hoechlin we get to Supergirl, and using the Crisis on Infinite Earths Crossover we get to all the major Arrowverse shows. Check them off the connection chart.

Using Supergirl we get, and this is rapid fire here. Chris Wood to Vampire Diaries, and take Candace Accola and Joseph Morgan and we get The Originals and Legacies too. That’s the TVDU checked off. 

Taking Katie McGrath gets us to oh yes, Merlin, and from there, oh we get many fun things. First off from Merlin we get Colin Morgan, who can bring us to Doctor Who, but we’ll get there later. Next up is Bradly James who gets us to Medici the magnificent, and oh wait just a minute good old Daniel Sharman, who I might add brings us back to BOTH The Originals and Teen Wolf! I’m not even kidding, it gets more fun from here. Also Katie McGrath was in Jurassic World so that brings our first MCU connection with Chris Pratt, but keep waiting there’s more. And AND! With Merlin we get Anthony Head who brings us to Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Doctor Who (Again!), and Scooby Doo (a Scooby Doo film I might add directed and written by James Gunn) via Buffy the Vampire Slayer’s Sara Michelle Gellar, who is going to be in a spin off for Teen Wolf!!

Seriously I’m just getting started this is insane and I think I’m gonna have to split it up a bit. Before moving on from Supergirl (Yes we are still on Supergirl, and the CW). We must also mention Chyler Leigh who can connect us to Grey’s Anatomy. But again, we get there later and oh boy is it fun.

After Supergirl let’s just skip over most of Arrowverse, if I named every actor connection between all the major CW shows we’d bet here for a very long time but I will stop at Arrow’s Katherine McNamara. Because *rubs hands together* she gets us to Shadowhunters!!!! Because oh yes, Shadowhunters is fun, very fun. First off Harry Shum Jr. Ok, now not to mention the fact that he, Mellissa Benosit (of Supergirl) and Grant Gustin (of The Flash) are all in Glee (A show I have never and will never watched but I still got to mention it), with my favorite author of all time, Chris Colfer, is just, my gods we’re still on the first leg of this insanity tree it only gets more awesome from here. And as of recently, with dear Harry Shum Jr. joining Grey’s Anatomy, yet another link to TV’s longest running medical drama. 

Our final stop in the Shadowhunters territory is Luke Bains, aka my first connection the my favorite show of all time Marvel’s agents of Shield. Because, that's right Luke Bains popped up in season 7! I will also as a side not mention through Shield season 7, and Dianne Down I connect to Disney, and as such through the constant interconnectedness of Disney both Cole Sprouse and Zendaya, getting us MCU (again!) and RIverdale. Don’t ask for the full explanation of how this connects just look it up on Youtube and you’ll find massive crossover explanations. Moving on!

Now, with that first branch, yes first branch! complete we move on to our second, and our second branch from Teen Wolf is Adelaide Kane, who oh boy, brings us to many things. First there’s Reign, which gets us to Toby Regbo, who brings us back to Medici the Magnificent! (He also connects us to Fantastic Beasts but if I go down that habit hole its a while, short expo I’ve got Pirates of the Caribbean. And through good old Jude Law, the RDJ Sherlock Holmes movies. And also, Captain Marvel, and brings us to not only Clark Gregg, and another connection to MCU and AOS, but also! Also! Star Wars!) 

Ok *Takes Deep breath*. We've got a lot done, but there’s still more! back with Reign, before we get back to Adelaide Kane. Torrance Combs brings us to not only Supernatural and the Tudors (Which also gives us our first OUAT connection but I have a better one so put a pin in that). But also, full circle back to the Originals. Gods this is enjoyable. And again, skipping SPN cause I don’t need that kind of actor headache, we got most of my faves here. 

Side Note also Celine Sindeton was also in Medici so just, ya. And While I’m on the topic Medici connects auto Game of Thrones and Lord of the Rings! Yes both of those fantasy jugecrnots via Richard Madden. And! via Sara Parish and Last Night in Soho we get to Anya Taylor Joy, and Queen’s Gambit (And also our first Thomas Brodie Sangster mention but we’ll get back to him in a minute) and Matt Smith, which brings us once again back, to Doctor Who! 

*another deep breath* The next connection is even better. Anna Popplewell brings us to Narnia, which brings us to, have you guessed his name? I bet you guessed his name. We’ve now reached *drum roll* Ben Barnes! And Ben Barns brings us to Shadow and Bone! Oh yes, I’ve brought it in. Via Amita Suman we also get to The Sandman and Doctor Who, which gets us to Jenna Coleman (who brings us to The Crown) and Patton Oswalt (who brings us back to AOS), and said show is written by good old Neil Gaimon. Who brings us to Good Omens and David Tennant too, but again, I’m getting so off track I still haven;t even touched Once Upon a Time yet. 

Narnia must also be mention because with Narnia we get to The Royals, via William Mosley (Said show gets us to Gossip Girl, somehow); Georgia Henly gets us to Spanish Princess which gets us to Downton Abbey and the White Princess, which gets us back to Shadow and Bone and also, Jodie Colmer, cause at this point why not (just play with IMDB to find more connection my brain is starting to hurt); and also yet again Game of Thrones, and this time adding Harry Potter, with Peter Dinklage and Warwick Davice. I can also bring in Elf now. Elf! I started with fucking Teen Wolf and now I’m at Elf!

Moving on! Adelaide Kane brings us to Grey’s Anatomy, again and short of saying everyone ever, let’s just stick to the ones that connect to shows I haven’t mentioned yet and jump to Millie Bobby Brown. Because yes she was in Grey’s Anatomy and yes I can now connect Stranger Things, Enola Holmes, the Witcher, and the DCEU.

Am I done yet? Am I free? Nope cause Stranger Things brings us to Jamie Cambel Bower, who brings us to Lilly Collins, who bring us around to Fantastic Beasts and the Tolkien movie. And so much more but I’m getting tired so I’m moving on again!

I’m gonna take a minute to mention all the MCU connection and say Tom Holland, the main AOS cast, and any Marvel actor you can think of including Karen Gillian are on the board. through Karen we get to Doctor Who, and directily back to Arrow and Legends via not one, not two, but three speerate actors. We also get to Torchwood which through crazy twists can bring us back around to Enolam Holmes and Agents of Shield! (Just look up the actors my brain can't remember their names by now).

Almost there, we’re done with branch two. Yes this was only brach two! And now we can move on to our final branch, Dylan O’brien, and eventually OUAT and the West Wing. Dylan O’brien brings us to Maze Runner and that brings us to two brilliant points. First Kaya Scodelario who brings us to pirates, Spinning Out, and more. Will Pouter, who’s also in Narnia. And the star of my childhood in every way Thomas Brodie Sangster! Oh this sweet precious darling brings us to not only Love Actually, and every British actor ever so just check the IMDB, but also Queen’s Gambit. 

Ok, ok, from here we take the Queen’s Gambit route via Doctor Who, back through Karen Gillian and get to the major MCU, through many films we get to both Josh Dallas and Sebastian Stan who get us to Once Upon a Time. but wait, we don’t even have to cause Once Upon a Time is reached from, who, well Adelaide Kane of course cause she’s in season 7, and no matter how much I fucking hate season 7 its Adelaide Kane and I adore her. From Once Upon a Time we get to the final of my fav shows, the West Wing, how? well by Richard Schiff of course, he was in season 1, 1! of OUAT. 

Now there are some things left out, Bridgerton, the 100, Warehouse 13, Grimm. Okay like give me a minute. Grimm is gotten to via Grey’s cause David Guintoli is in an early season. But we could also use Elizabeth Tolluch, a star of super man and Lois. Either way we’re there, and from there Sasha Roiz takes us to not only Warehouse 13, but also I kid you not the 2004 for disaster movie Day after Tomorrow, and Jake bloody fucking Gylenhall. That’s right he’s in here too. 

Now Bridgerton can be connected via Julie Andrews, somehow, likely via Aqauman, or at least that's the one I can connect with least amount of brain power. Bridgerton get’s us to Derry Girls and the british CSI (or show every actor will be on at least once) Midsummer murders, so just throw in MI5 while I’m here. 

The 100, takes a minute, but not really. Grey’s comes in yet again, with Isaiah Washington. From there we get the 100, but also via Henry Ian Cusick we get both Scandal and Lost so throw in a crap tone more actors from those. I’ve now tied in the Hawaii 5-0 and Magnum PI Reboots. And somehow, ABC’s Inhumans! Like how?! Richard Harmon can also get us to Blake Lively via the Age of Adelaide, and back, yet again to Gossip Girl!

What's still left to connect? The Great, how do I do this Nicholas Holt. I can either go via Anya Taylor Joy and the Menu or Tolkien but either way Nicholas Holt, The Great, and Elle Fanning are now connected to this insanity, somehow!

Rapid fire round now so I can squeeze in as many show as possible before my mind dies. Agent Carter via haley Attwell who brings us back around to Kira Knightly and like everything. Lilly Collins is in here through Either Downton or the Mamia mia Love Actually connection, which gets us to one of my fav films, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. Anne with an E via Stranger Things. And Runaways via Stan Lee. 

With all that out of the way, we conclude this experiment? insanity trail? Lecture? I don’t know all I know is this is bloody fucking awesome and insane and just do with it what you will. There is no point, its just a long trail of every actor I’ve ever liked can connect to another actor and anther thing I liked and honestly I’m not complaining. Now all I need is more of this is new media and I’m all set. 

Also, if anyone wants to add on to my connections, please feel free. Like honestly, I beg you, make this insanity more insane. 

[hyperfixated-homo]

Different worlds only buildings apart

Chapter 4 - Monochrome at midday

Storms lead to sunny skies while the world wakes up. Six people start six stories, as different as can be. Or at least, it all seems so different. In reality, the world is much smaller than they might think, and what’s the difference between a horror story and a romantic comedy but a change in perspective?

Ao3 link

Chapter summary: Janus Lyre is a famous detective. Why do you think he's been called to this case?

Warnings: Implied murder, mentioned blood

Word count: 446

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The harsh light of the midday sun was blocked out of a small office space by blinders, leaving the room dark. Files and binders were strewn across a desk in the middle of the room, pulled out of the cabinets against the walls. Pens and pictures had been dropped on the floor in front of a corkboard, covered in similar photos and long red string.

The room was occupied by one person. Janus Lyre, famed detective, was sitting in a desk chair, staring blankly at the board. He’d been doing so for the past ten minutes.

The streaks of sunlight not blocked by the blinds shone on his tired eyes. His posture was relaxed, controlled, like a snake ready to strike. There was tension there, yes, but it was all in the lines of his face, the furrow of his eyebrows. Features that could be smoothed out at the drop of a hat.

His fingers drummed silently against his arm chair.

Janus’ eyes traced over faces and buildings. Regular people he had come to learn so much about that it was almost as if he’d met them himself.

Unfortunate that he’d never get the chance to.

There was a quiet knock at his door. Then a creak as it opened.

“Mr Lyre, sir?”

A soft, hesitant voice at his door. A voice that was rapidly becoming familiar to him as his latest case progressed. The intern that the voice belonged to had been responsible for sending him messages for the past couple weeks.

He stayed silent. He knew what they were here for.

“I uh… they need you at another scene.” They mumbled quietly. Janus was sure that they were probably crossing their arms right now, as if that would keep them safe or keep the quiver out of their voice. “Deputy Stark said that it was really recent, he wants you there as soon as possible.”

“How do they know that it was a murder?” Janus’ calm, fluid voice was no louder than the intern’s, and yet it seemed that it rang out in the little office.

“…They don't. But they want you there anyways. Apparently it’s…bloody.”

Janus hummed. His eyes didn’t leave the cork board. Didn’t leave their faces.

“They have a suspect though, if it is.”

His fingers stilled.

A suspect? For something that may not even be a murder case? In all his time as an officer, he’d never heard of someone finding a suspect before a scene had been completely searched. They needed to learn about what happened after all.

How intriguing.

He spun around in his chair, bright, heterochromatic eyes coming to rest on the intern’s face.

“Who is it?”