#skeleton vs human

[nenoname]

those newer fans can't possibly understand, having years of super dramatic and depressing depictions of stanley pines' fake death, only for us to get a silly straw dummy and the worst acting stan has done in his entire life

(altho i suppose months of everyone hc-ing that ford wore a turtleneck 24/7 because he's ashamed of his scars, only for us to get all-star tattoo-ed comes pretty close)

also an au where gf cops were slightly more competent and stan ends up being the prime suspect in his own murder because a man mysteriously dies after meeting his estranged twin who suddenly is inviting people to his murder hut....

[twisted-wonderland-but-gayer]

There's probably discrimination between fresh and saltwater merfolk, maybe between different depths of the sea too

I can imagine there's a rule of

If you blink and see a merfolk swimming towards you looking for a bite, that's a seafolk.

If you blink and you see a mer that wasn't there before, that's a freshwater folk.

If you blink and wake up in heaven, it was a swampfolk

[kindfrog]

depths of the bayou

[click for better quality]

close up of Alastor-

as well as the line art- while I think it looks better without it, I worked too hard on it for it to not be seen lol

[fourthcupofrice]

Here's my new OC, Lady Tsering! Take a lookie at her lore and stuff here, but I'll give you a little sneak peek! "Lady Tsering is a protector of mountain travelers. Her red cords guide the lost ones in the snow and mist, and keep the Great Ahkuu vultures from terrorizing the traders on the mountain passes. If you leave a message with her, she will make sure it reaches the next traveler. Lady Tsering appears as a dark skeleton, held together with red threads and ribbons, and she is as protective of her mountains as she is of you. Ahkuu Vultures cower from her, rejecting her deep-iron fossilized bones..."

[littlegreyboots]

Lux ft their weird imitation skeleton

[theartistof10s]

Hated my old card for artfight, so I made this instead. It's awesome sauce, right?

[misojunnie]

COVET 𖣂

how far would you go for love?

your boyfriend jungwon has always been a kind soul. he refused to hurt a spider, much less a human, but when a new, younger, attractive admirer enters your life, something in him changes. as jealousy begins to consume him, and the competition between the two boys ensues, you watch your life turn upside down.

pairing: bf!jungwon vs. admirer!riki x fem!reader

genre: psychological thriller, horror, love triangle, established relationship au

warnings: violence, dark and disturbing behavior, substance use, murder, slow burn (only gets scary at the end) no mature themes! enha’s behavior and personalities are not a reflection of reality, it’s just a story

featuring: enhypen

playlist: runaway by kanye west, nowhere to run by stegosaurus rex, S.D.O.S by alex g, sour times - live version by portishead, violent youth by crystal castles, goth by sidewalks and skeletons

word count: 12.6k

taglist! @enhacolor @jwnghyuns @theothernads @adoredbyjay @firstclassjaylee @dollschan @enreveriee @surrik-i @jwonistic @laurradoesloveu @laylasbunbunny @tmtxtf

network tags: @kflixnet @kvanity-main @k-radio @enhypennetwork

see the trailer.

a/n: hello all! welcome to the first installment of fright night, my halloween series! I hope you enjoy ❤️

You had never considered yourself an overtly desirable person.

You spent the majority of your school years being ignored. You didn’t have many friends, and you spent most of your lunches eating alone. For a long time, school felt like torture.

Meeting Yang Jungwon felt like a breath of fresh air.

You met in your junior year. Neither of you were exactly popular, and you both seemed to have an innate ability to blend into the background. But upon meeting each other, you realized you didn’t have to hide yourself. Jungwon valued you for exactly who you were. And he valued you very, very much.

Before you knew it, you were spending every waking moment with him. He would sneak into your bedroom window after dark. You’d stay up until the sun rose, speaking in hushed whispers, talking about anything and everything. You quickly realized that he was the only person in the world who you could tell everything to. 

The last day of junior year, he kissed you under the willow tree in your front yard. You didn’t think you’d ever felt happier in your life. 

And suddenly, your life was all about Yang Jungwon.

You spent almost every day of summer by his side, doing everything imaginable. Picnics in the park, walks on the beach, night drives, your hair whipping in the cold nighttime wind as he sped down the highway, laughing. You had never been this happy before, and neither had he. Then, summer ended.

You didn’t think Jungwon had changed, but the people around you disagreed.

Jungwon grew a few inches over the summer. His clothes suddenly fit him awkwardly as he filled out in the shoulders and the arms, and his pants were now just a little too short. He dropped the rest of his baby fat, his cheekbones emerging from underneath his young skin. He cut his hair, and his long brown locks were suddenly gone, shaggy against his forehead. You had always thought Jungwon was beautiful, but suddenly, it seemed like the whole world thought the same thing.

You returned to senior year together, and the entire school began treating him like a different person. He received love notes in class, giggles and looks of desire as he walked down the hallways.

You were terrified that he would change upon receiving this newfound attention. But Jungwon never changed. He showed you off to his new friends, dripping praise. He took you to the parties he was suddenly invited to, and stayed by your side the entire night, even when beautiful girls approached him and asked him to dance. He told everyone he met that you were perfect, and nothing about you needed to change. And slowly, you began to believe it. At the same time, the world began to finally see you for who you were.

Jungwon was loyal. He knew he had found something special with you, and he never considered for a minute that he might abandon it. And despite rising in the ranks of high-school-high-society, he made sure you never felt left behind.

That was what you loved about him the most. He really never changed.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Halloween was your favorite time of the year. After summer, of course. 

You loved the scary movies, the gaudy costumes, the foggy weather with golden leaves. Not to mention you were a horror connoisseur, which meant you knew exactly what movies to play to make Jungwon freak out. He wasn’t a big fan of scary things. 

But you loved Halloween, and Jungwon loved you, so he did too.

You sat in the back of your class, brainstorming your plans for the month. You were 19 now, Jungwon being a year older. You were in your sophomore year of college. It felt like an eternity ago that you spent those carefree summer days on the beach with the man you had now been dating for four years. 

You were a semester into the year already, and you generally got to know everyone in your class. But the door to the lecture hall swung open, and in walked a face you knew you had never seen before.

He was tall, very tall. It was the first thing you noticed; how he towered over the rest of the men. His face was striking, catching the attention of everyone in the room. He looked a little younger than yourself. It was as if he brought in an icy draft with him as he walked inside, and you rubbed your hands, suddenly a bit colder than before.

As he walked past your desk, he slowed. He looked at you briefly, before walking to the farthest seat in the class, setting down his bag and crossing his arms. He didn’t speak to anyone. You attempted to ignore him, taking out your notes. But something in your gut told you to turn around, and there he was. Staring at you. You shook it off, too afraid to turn around lest he was staring again.

But when you inevitably did, he didn’t break eye contact.

You were a bit shaken by your interaction with the mysterious boy.

He intrigued you. Since you started dating Jungwon, you viewed thinking about other men as a kind of unrepentable crime. You had always been the kind of person who saved their heart for only one person. The lecture hall was almost empty by now, and you packed your bag. Only after a moment did you notice you weren’t alone.

“Hey.” he said. You startled, turning around to meet the eyes of the very boy you had just been thinking about.

“Oh, hi.” you said, attempting to be casual.

“I’m Riki. What’s your name?” he asked curiously, and you indulged him.

“I’m y/n.” you responded, unsure of how to introduce yourself, so you settled on reaching out a friendly hand. He stared at it for a moment, before laughing, shaking your hand firmly.

“Nice to meet you, y/n.” Something about him was inexplicably charming. He had seemed cold and unapproachable when he first walked in, but you felt the warmth of his smile, heard the wind chimes of his soft laugh. “Today’s my first day here.”

“Ah, new transfer.” you said, chipper as you began walking down the stairs. He followed you, a step behind. “Welcome to Decelis University.”

“That’s the first greeting I’ve gotten.” he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Nice to know I’m welcome.” You felt bad for him somehow. He was intimidating, that was for sure. With his angular face and dark energy, you bet people had been misjudging him.

“Of course. Always nice to meet a new student.”

“So, tell me about yourself.” you raised a brow at his odd question, but complied.

By the time you responded, you were in the halls, still walking together.

“Well, I’m a sophomore. I moved from Seoul, and I’m a psychology major. But I like literature.” you said, satisfied with your answer, confused when he shook his head.

“No, not that. Something real.” You considered it. Did you really want to tell something real to a man you had just met? It felt traitorous somehow.

“I don’t know, I’d have to think about it.” you responded, shrugging, and he smiled abstractedly at your answer. “Why don’t you tell me something about you?”

“Well, I’m a freshman. I just moved here a couple months ago from Osaka,” he added, and you nodded curiously. “I’m double majoring in forensic science and neuroscience, with a minor in psychology. Oh, and I like to paint.”

“Oh, an overachiever.” you said with amusement, and he shrugged, hands still in his pockets. “I know your type.”

“Trust me, I don’t think you do.” he grinned, and you laughed. You didn’t realize how far you had been walking together, and suddenly you were in the courtyard, rapidly approaching your usual meeting spot with your boyfriend.

And he was there. He was smiling, excited to see you, but his expression dropped when he saw you walking with a man he had never seen before, a man with the face of an angel and the eyes of a devil.

“Shit, that’s my boyfriend.” you said, suddenly aware of Jungwon’s presence and hoping he didn’t get the wrong impression. Riki hummed, a light smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“Oh, your boyfriend.” he said, enunciating the last word in a way you didn’t like.

“See you tomorrow Riki.” you said quickly, leaving his side to speedily walk to Jungwon, not waiting for a response. “Sorry, have you been waiting long?” Jungwon didn’t answer, his eyes still trained on the boy standing a few yards away.

“Who’s that?” he asked, and you tried to discern the tone of his voice, unable to. “A new friend?” You scoffed, waving your hand dismissively.

“Hardly. He just transferred to my class today. I barely remember his name.” you responded hastily, and Jungwon raised a brow. He chose to ignore any begrudging thoughts, placing his hand on the small of your back with a smile.

As you both turned away, Jungwon looked over his shoulder, gazing back into the eyes of the man behind you. He was still staring.

As a pair, you strode away to your favorite lunch spot. Jungwon didn’t want to think about this new boy, who he was, or what his intentions were. He assumed this was a confused freshman who needed help navigating the new school, and flocked to the nearest friendly smile and set of kind eyes.

But he couldn’t shake the feeling that this boy was going to be a very big problem.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Jungwon was upset.

He tried not to show it. He didn’t consider himself a jealous man, but he was. Underneath it all, he hated the idea of other men thinking about you the way he did.

Back in high school, a part of him regretted inviting you into his newfound popularity. You were beautiful. You were intelligent. You were funny. You had all the good qualities; the issue was that nobody but him could see them. By bringing you into the spotlight, suddenly everyone finally recognized you for what you were. And he quickly realized that he preferred when he was the only one that could see you.

But it made you confident, and certainly happier, which was all he cared about in the end. He let go of those resentments because he saw how much you loved being loved. You were a human being. He couldn’t be angry at that.

But this man, this new man, Jungwon didn’t trust him one bit. 

The truth was, Jungwon didn’t trust men at all. He thought men were loathsome, foul creatures. It was why he preferred spending his time with you. Every man he had ever met had some kind of twisted, sick problem on the inside. They just didn’t show it. But Jungwon saw it. He noticed the little things.

And his gut was telling him that this man was up to no good.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

You worked at a charming American diner near your campus. Even with you and Jungwon both contributing to rent, you were barely able to afford your little apartment, so you took almost every shift you could.

You were surprised to see Riki walk into your restaurant.

“Hey.” he greeted you with a nod of his head, seating himself at a booth in the corner. He didn’t seem surprised to see you at all. “You work here?”

“Uh, yeah,” you stumbled over your words. You were shocked that he had so easily managed to invade an intimate part of your life, but it was close to the college, and you shook it off, knowing he likely wanted a warm meal after a long night of classes. You glanced at your watch. You closed in twenty minutes. “What can I get for you?”

He rolled his shoulders, not bothering to look at the menu. “Oh, just get me whatever your favorite is.” You scrawled an order down on your notepad.

“So, how’d you end up in my restaurant?” you joked, and he shrugged casually.

“What can I say, I like American food.” you hummed, turning around to take his order to the kitchen. He followed you with his eyes, leaning back further in his seat.

You tucked the slip into the order wheel, hesitating  to go back as you observed the frantic kitchen. It wasn’t like you had anything against Riki, but he seemed like the type of guy you tried to stay away from in high school, and that combined with his apparent interest in you made you nervous. Not to mention the fact that your boyfriend probably wasn’t fond of seeing you together.

“Your food.” you said, eventually deciding to return to Riki’s table. He didn’t seem remotely interested in the food.

“Sit down with me.” he requested, and you raised a brow at him. “Come on, it’s not like you have anything better to do.” he chuckled, gesturing at the nearly empty diner. It was now twelve minutes until closing time, and he was right, you had nothing else to do. So you took a seat.

“Aren’t you gonna eat?” you asked after a moment, looking pointedly at his food, which he hadn’t touched. He smiled, picking up a fork and taking a bite.

“It’s good,” he said, chewing. “But I’m more interested in talking to you.”

“And why is that?” you questioned with amusement. He shrugged.

“You’re interesting.” he replied, and you scoffed. “What, you don’t believe me?”

“So that’s why you’ve been bothering me?” He put a hand over his heart.

“Ouch. That wounds me. I thought we were friends.” You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t contain a mild smile. He noticed, and smiled as well.

“Sure. We’re friends.” you said, resting your chin on your palm as you propped your arm up on the table. “So, you like American food?”

“Sure,” he said, not seeming very opinionated on the matter. “I was more drawn in by the ambiance. It’s a nice place.” He was right. It was a nice diner, with checkered floors, vintage movie posters, and intimate little booths. You were suddenly feeling overwhelmed by the romantic atmosphere, and swallowed dryly.

“Yeah, I agree. The ambience is kinda the whole appeal.”

“So you like nice restaurants.” His gaze was intense, and the way it drew you in made you uncomfortable. His charisma felt dangerously sharp, like a knife.

“That’s one way to say it.” you said. He grinned.

“So when can I take you out to one?” your amused expression dropped.

“That’s not funny.”

“It isn’t?” he said innocently, and you stood up, a hand lingering on the table before you glanced at your watch. Luckily your shift was over, and you had an excellent excuse to get out of this situation, and out from under his piercing eyes.

“My shift’s over. Goodnight, Riki.” you said firmly, untying your apron. He watched carefully as you strode quickly to the kitchen, ducking behind the metal doors.

You didn’t come back out, and after a moment of waiting, he left his money on the table and walked out the door, not bothering to finish his food.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Riki had been thinking about you all day.

He wasn’t sure what it was that attracted him, but he found you interesting. What he liked the most was that you were genuine. He had a good eye for superficial people, and you weren’t one of them. You meant everything that came out of your mouth.

Riki had been a heartbreaker in high school, and he planned on being the same in college. Not a week went by where his breakups didn’t scandalize the school, and that was just how he liked it. Some people thought he was a womanizer; he disagreed. He thought that attraction was power, and people should use it to their advantage.

The truth was, Riki wasn’t fond of men. He thought they were liars. Maybe he and Jungwon had something in common in that regard. He liked that women were honest, open with their emotions and intentions. Men hid their motivations, hid their secrets, hid everything. Riki was an open book. He told every girl whose heart he’d broken that it would end up badly.  And when it inevitably went wrong, he said I told you so.

And because Riki didn’t like men, he wanted to take things from them. When he found a man he didn’t trust, a man he knew was rotten, he robbed him of his worth. His happiness. His girlfriend. And he was going to do it again here, he was determined.

He didn’t trust your boyfriend. He may seem perfect on paper, but Riki could tell there was something rotting beneath the surface. Everyone had something to hide. And he was going to expose whatever your boyfriend was hiding. 

It’s what he always did.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Jungwon had been watching you.

In his heart, he knew it was wrong. He had never not trusted you before, and he wasn’t sure what was happening to him. He was uneasy, anxious, and upset. Yesterday, the two of you had lunch and he barely touched his food. That night, he didn’t sleep.

It wasn’t like guys hadn’t pursued you before. In the past four years, boys would hit on you at parties, in class, even on your dates. He’d tell them to scram, and then you’d laugh about it together afterward. It had never bothered him when other guys were interested in you; if anything, it made him more proud of himself for being with you. In fact, he wasn’t even certain that this particular man was interested in you at all.

That was until he saw you having dinner together.

You were sitting in the corner booth. Through the foggy glass, Jungwon could see his face, smiling. His eyes were crescent moons as he chuckled at something you said, neither of you eating, just speaking. He couldn’t tell if you were smiling back at him, and he wanted to know desperately.

When he saw you get up and go to the kitchen, he checked the time on his watch. Your shift was over, which meant he needed to get a move on, and he shoved his hands in his pockets before speeding in the direction of your shared apartment.

He felt horrible about what he had just done. He knew he was your boyfriend, but watching you without you knowing felt like a crime. He walked with a pit in his stomach, anxious to beat you home. He didn’t want you to know he had been acting strangely.

He trusted you. He trusted you with his entire heart, as he had been for the past four years, without regret.

But could he trust the people around you?

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Riki was back in your diner, as he had been every day for the past week. You had given up on lecturing him about righteousness; clearly he didn’t care. You just served him his food, and as usual, he asked you to sit down with him.

The scent of sweet violet, cedarwood, and a little cigarette smoke filled the air as you sat across from him, and you found it extremely pleasant.

“New cologne?’ you asked. You didn’t like that this was becoming routine for the two of you, but you engaged anyway.

“You noticed,” he said happily. “Yeah, it’s new. You like it?” You looked out the window, resting your chin on your hand as you attempted to ignore him.

“It’s nice.” you grumbled, and he smiled in satisfaction.

He was Jungwon’s complete opposite. He was demanding, flirty, and charming in an aggressive way. His voice was deep and smooth, unlike Jungwon’s soft lilt. He was sweet, but not kind. Jungwon was the kindest boy you had ever met.

He forked a bite of food for himself before chewing in satisfaction. “So, are you ready to answer?”

“Answer what?” you asked, bemused.

“I told you I wanted to hear something real about you.” you laughed, recalling your first conversation, and it seemed like an eternity ago.

“You go first.” you suggested, and to your surprise, he obliged.

“Well, that’s a tough question. I suppose something real about me is that I don’t believe in love.” You raised a brow incredulously.

“Why is that?”

“Not sure. I just never have.”

“Something must have happened to convince you love wasn’t real.” He considered telling you, but his brain resisted. He wasn’t ready to spill his guts to you. Sharing his secrets would mean opening himself up to be vulnerable, and Riki hated being vulnerable. You sensed his hesitation, saying; “You can tell me.”

And despite himself, he told you.

“My parents never really loved each other.” he said simply, and you frowned. “For as long as I can remember, they’ve been cold to each other. Sometimes they fight. Violently.” He sighed, and you felt pity welling up in your chest. “I guess I don’t believe in love because I don’t believe in marriage. I don’t think human beings are capable of loving each other forever.”

“I’m sorry, Riki.” you said, and he shook his head, looking away. “But you’re wrong.” His eyes drifted to yours, and he raised a brow. “Love exists. Deep down, everyone has love in their heart.”

“People spend their entire lives chasing for love, and they still don’t find it.”

“That’s because love is work. Everyone has the potential to find it one day. You just have to start looking.” Your words touched him. He had never considered that love was something he had to work for, not just a concept that was driven by fate.

“Agree to disagree.” he snorted, and you shrugged, taking a bite of his food.

“There’s love everywhere.”

Instead of running away at the end of your shift, this time you allowed him to walk you out. The two of you strode into the cold night, you shivering in your tee shirt.

“Are you cold?” he asked, and you shook your head, covering your waist with your arms in an attempt to warm up. Wordlessly, he pulled off his jacket and hung it over your shoulders. You glared at him, but accepted it. From the pocket of his jeans, he removed a pack of red Marlboros, slipping a cigarette out of the packet. “Smoke?” he asked, and you shook your head. He propped the cigarette in between his lips.

“You’re a bit young to smoke, aren’t you?” you asked, and he chuckled.

“Every teenager has a bit of fun. Even if they’re not supposed to.” you smiled.

He was a total cliche. The leather jacket wearing, cigarette smoking, flirtatious rebel that flirted as easily as he breathed. And somehow, despite hating that overplayed trope, you found it endearing when it was him.

“Hey, Riki?” you said, and he hummed, taking a drag from his cigarette. “I’m actually glad we became friends.”

“Friends?” he said, blowing smoke as his lips curled into a smile, leaning against the wall, a mere couple of feet away from you. His cheeks and nose were red from the cold, and he looked ethereal under the moonlight. “We’re not gonna be friends.”

You were about to respond when someone called your name.

Your eyes widened in fright as you turned to see Jungwon standed a few paces behind you, his breath visible in the fall climate. He looked upset, his pockets in his hands as his brows furrowed.

“Jungwon?” You quickly moved away from Riki. “What are you doing here?”

“My shift ended early, I thought I’d surprise you.” he was speaking to you, but his eyes weren’t on you; they were on Riki. He didn’t falter, taking another drag of his cigarette as he watched silently. “But I see you’re busy.”

“No, not at all.” you said nervously, taking Jungwon’s hand from inside of his pocket. “I just finished working. Let’s go home.” Jungwon didn’t respond, just turning around, your hand slipping out of his as he strode away from you.

“See you tomorrow.” Riki called after you when you didn’t bid him farewell, and you turned around to give him a glare, before dashing after your displeased boyfriend.

Riki was already making cracks in the foundation of your relationship. And that was exactly what he wanted.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

You were wearing his jacket.

Jungwon was certain of it. After two years of living together, he knew your closet inside out; and he had never seen this jacket. The sleeves were too long for you, and they protruded just past your fingers. Jungwon could kill a man. Specifically, that man. After a moment of walking in agonizing silence, he spoke up.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” His cold tone chilled you to the core. You had never really seen Jungwon mad. Sure, you had your fair share of fights, every couple did, but they occurred strangely infrequently. “Who is that guy?”

“Just a classmate.”

“Why was he at your job?” You weren’t sure what degree of the truth you should tell him. You didn’t want him to think you were being unfaithful, that wasn’t it at all.

“He just likes the food, Jungwon.” That wasn’t technically a lie.

“I think he likes more than the food.” Jungwon was refusing to look at you. You had never seen him this put-out over something you did. You wondered if you had done something very wrong by being around Riki.

We’re not gonna be friends, you remembered his words. The smile on his face when he said them, how he sounded like he really meant it.

“Look, he’s just an underclassman. He’s new, just moved here. I’m pretty much his only friend.” Jungwon scoffed.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“I feel bad for him.”

“He likes you.”

“But I don’t like him.” You stopped walking and tugged on Jungwon’s sleeve, and for the first time he looked you in the eyes. They were dull, a stark contrast to the usual youthful shine of his eyes. “Jungwon. I only care about you.”

“That can change.”

“No, it can’t.” You pressed a warm hand to his cheek, and you saw his gaze soften. “I’ve loved you faithfully for four years. That’s not going to stop now.” He stayed silent for a moment, then sighed, removing your hand from his face. But he took your hand in his, which you took as a sign that everything would be okay. You looked into each other's eyes, cold air flushing your faces until it began to rain lightly.

“I’m not mad at you.” he said after a moment, his hair dampening from the rain, clinging to his forehead. 

You brushed it away from his face and resumed your walk in silence.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

You couldn’t be friends with Riki anymore.

You told this to Jungwon, who seemed more content than he had been in the past week. You, however, had a pit in your stomach.

You didn’t know why, but the thought that you would never see Riki again bothered you. His messy hair, proud smile, the scent of his smoky cologne. You weren’t certain why Riki had suddenly become important to you, but you knew it was wrong.

“So, your boyfriend told you you couldn’t see me anymore.” he said, holding his jacket in his hand. It still smelled like his cologne, and a bit like you, and he held it tightly between his fingers. He was frowning, and you realized this was the first time you had seen him without a smug expression on his face.

“No.” you replied. “I decided myself.” He sighed.

“That’s disappointing.”

“C’mon, Riki. You’re pursuing me. I have a boyfriend. It’s wrong.”

“That’s the great thing about life. It’s all about doing what feels right, even if it’s wrong.” he said elusively, and you frowned at him. “You should do what you want.”

“This is what I want.” You could smell his cologne everywhere, that stupid violet and cigarette smoke. It was distracting you from your thoughts.

“I don’t believe that.” You knew he was right, but his obstinance was pissing you off. You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I don’t care what you believe. It was nice being friends with you.” you readied yourself to leave, turning when he called after you.

“I told you,” he smiled for the first time during your conversation. “We were never going to be friends.”

It weighed heavy on your mind, but you had other things to worry about.

There was a party this weekend that you and Jungwon would be attending. Parties had never really been your thing, but a part of both of you missed the drunken fun of your time in high school, so when invited, you decided to go together.

It was being thrown by some boy in your year, a man named Jake who was infamous for his ragers, where people would fight to get in, and leave not remembering how they got there. Jungwon was friends with him, and assured you it’d be worth the while, which you hoped was true.

You pulled an old dress out of retirement, a lacy pink number that you hadn’t worn since Jungwon got it for your anniversary a year ago. There was something exciting about bringing it out of your closet, like a new start.

As you put on your earrings, facing the mirror, he circled your waist.

“You look beautiful.” he said, and you turned to kiss him, a chaste kiss that lingered on your lips. You looked back in the mirror, and you weren’t smiling.

Something about this situation felt extremely wrong, and you didn’t know why.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Despite the hectic environment of the party, you actually felt at peace for the first time in the past two weeks. The music was beating in your ribs like a pounding heart, and smoke furled through the air as college students went to-and-fro. Jungwon and you did shots in the kitchen, hands intertwining as you poured vodka down your throat, a burning sensation on your tongue. After a couple more, you were ready to dance. 

Jungwon pulled you onto the makeshift dance floor by the hand, and the two of you swayed to the music together. You caught glimpses of faces you recognized, but in this moment, it was just you and him. Locking eyes, twirling and laughing as you erratically danced to the pounding beat of the music.

Eventually, Jungwon got dragged away by a friend of his named Jake, a classmate that he had grown quite close with. You were alone, but you didn’t mind.

You had never been the kind of person to be embarrassed to dance. You felt like yourself when you were dancing, and you didn’t care what company you had; you just enjoyed the feeling of being free underneath the spell of the music.

And then, the crowds shifted, and everything felt still.

There he was. Alone in the center of the floor, holding a bottle of beer in his hand, his free hand moving with the music as he danced rhythmically to the music. Girls tried to dance with him, but he deftly avoided them. The way he moved was entrancing; you had never seen him look so light and airy, as he swayed and rocked, not caring about the people around him. You should’ve known he would be there, you could smell his cologne from a mile away, and suddenly it flooded your senses.

He turned, and as he did, he caught sight of you. His mouth curled into a smile as he continued dancing, and you just watched.

“Come dance with me.” he said to you through the crowds, and though his voice was quiet, you swore it reverberated over the sound of the music. As if in a trance, you walked to him, weaving through hordes of people. Were you drunk, or was he more beautiful than usual?

“What are you doing here?” you asked the instant you reached him.

“Am I not allowed to be here?” he replied. He didn’t stop dancing as he spoke to you, and you felt odd standing still. But you couldn’t bring yourself to dance.

“They usually haze the freshmen.” He gestured to himself with a shrug.

“Well I’m fine, aren’t I?” You didn’t know what to say. A mere two days after swearing you wouldn’t speak to him again, you had already broken your promise to yourself, and you cursed yourself for it. “C’mon, you’re not having any fun. Dance.”

“I don’t want to dance with you.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” he said, but he paid no bother, continuing to dance on his own. You felt the eyes of the people around you as you spoke to him, some jealous, some curious, some judgemental. “Why do you care what people think?” You startled, wondering for a second if he was able to read your mind.

“I don’t.”

“If you didn’t, you’d be dancing with me right now.” He was right. That was the most frustrating thing about him; although he may be self-centered and smug, he was always right. Everything he said about you was as accurate as if he knew you for years.

So, to spite him, you danced.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Jungwon had been watching you dance while he was talking to Jake. He liked Jake, he really did, but he found his attention drifting from his conversation to you, swaying carelessly to the beat with a smile on your face.

“Your girlfriend’s cute.” Jake said, gesturing to you with his cup, clearly able to tell that his companion was distracted.Jungwon sighed, pouring himself another hefty drink. He filled it to the brim with rum and orange juice. “Something wrong?”

“Yeah, well, she’s cute. That’s the problem.” Jungwon took a sip of his drink and wrinkled his nose at the harsh flavor. “Some guy from one of her classes has been all over her. Some younger dude.”

“The constant struggle of being someone’s boyfriend.” Jake said, clapping him on the back. Jungwon chuckled, taking another sip. “But try not to stress about it, man. You’ve been together for what, four years now?” Jungwon nodded in confirmation. “She’s only got her eyes on you. I wouldn’t worry.”

“Thanks, Jake.” Jungwon said, feeling a bit lighter, and a considerable amount woozier. He poured himself another drink despite himself, attempting to tune out the sound of the music. Suddenly, it was too loud, and everything was a little bit too much.

When he looked up, his heart had dropped to his stomach. You were no longer dancing, and it felt as if a spotlight was shining on the man in the center of the dance floor, his hair gloriously messy from the moving crowds, face red from dancing and alcohol. You were speaking, he could tell from the way your lips opened and closed.

Jungwon was seeing red. He felt as though the air was being choked out of him, and he struggled to take a deep breath to center himself. The alcohol felt like acid pumping through his veins as he stared at the two of you through the crowd, buzzing like a live wire. He was angry, but most of all, scared. If you had gone back so easily on your devotion, did that mean something? Did this man mean something to you?

“Jungwon?” Jake called his name but he barely heard it, crumpling his cup and throwing it into the trash as he stormed outside, slamming the door behind him.

Jungwon had been sitting outside on the stairs for nearly ten minutes, and he had managed to cool off.

He had never been so angry in his life. Jungwon wasn’t an angry person, he never had been. He had always been calm and collected, bottling up any rage or resentment he felt until it subsided. But that rage was brewing within him like an overflowing pot, and something about this man brought it out of him.

The smell of cigarette smoke flooded his senses, and he turned. Behind him was the last person he wanted to see, smoking a Marlboro, and Jungwon wondered how he didn’t hear him come outside. His face was still flushed from dancing, and his lips were tinged with the faintest trace of pink lipstick, smudged messily across his mouth.

Jungwon had stood up to go inside when Riki addressed him, saying;

“Hey.” Jungwon didn’t respond. “Looking for your girlfriend?”

“You really get under my skin.” Jungwon grumbled, and Riki smiled. He should handle this like a mature adult, he knew that. So he attempted to. “I would like it if you’d just leave me and y/n alone.”

“Come on, Jungwon. You know that’s not gonna happen.” He tossed the stub of his cigarette to the pavement, crushing it under the heel of his boot. Jungwon didn’t remember telling him his name at any point during their conversation.

“Why,” Jungwon started to speak, feeling like bile was rising in his throat. “Why, out of all girls, does it have to be my girlfriend?” Riki crossed his arms with a smile.

“Because I see her for what she is.” That tipped Jungwon over the edge. He could no longer have this conversation, he couldn’t handle it. He strode to the front door, pulling it open as he rushed into the crowds. “Oh, c’mon,” Riki’s voice haunted him as he followed him inside. “Let’s talk, man to man. I’ll pour you a drink.”

“Get away from me.” Jungwon poured himself another cup and chugged it. He was going to find you, and he was going to end this. He had to end it somehow.

“Let’s not be enemies. It’s just friendly competition.” Riki said.

“What does my girlfriend see in you?” The alcohol was speaking for him now, and he slammed his empty cup on the table. Riki gestured to the dance floor with a smile, and only then did Jungwon realize that the crowds were watching him in anticipation.

“Why don’t you ask her?”

You were watching Jungwon from the dance floor, and the crowds parted like the Red Sea. You were frozen in fear, shaking as you brought a hand up to your lip while Riki snickered. The sound of his laughter faded into the background as Jungwon noticed your smudged pink lipstick.

His fist was in connection with Riki’s face before he could even think about it.

He heard you scream in the background but paid no mind, the crowds chanting ‘fight!’ as the two men tussled. Riki was tall, but Jungwon was stronger. Riki’s mouth spurted blood as Jungwon landed a punch on his face with a sickening crack.

Jungwon’s hand found the counter somehow, and his hand latched onto the handle of a knife, unsheathing it without thinking. Only when he whipped it in Riki’s direction and the crowd gasped in unison did his head clear, and he dropped it, his opponent barely able to kick it away from him in his weakened state. 

He wanted to kill him. For a moment, he was truly prepared to kill him, and he almost did.

Jungwon was so shocked with himself that the younger boy was able to pry himself away from his grip, getting to his feet and wiping his mouth.

“Psychopath.” he spat blood, grabbing his jacket from the floor where it had been pulled off, swinging it over his shoulder as he removed another cigarette. But as he walked out the door, he smiled, an ugly smile of sharp teeth and blood.

He had found it. That rotten part of your boyfriend, the reason he didn’t trust him in the first place. He had exposed it, and you had seen the side of him that you didn’t know existed.

He had a feeling that Jungwon didn’t even know that side of himself.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Everyone’s eyes were on Jungwon. You weren’t sure what to say as you stared wide-eyed at your boyfriend. You were terrified. The boy you were in love with had almost stabbed the life out of another person.

You attempted to rationalize it, desperately. You had just publicly cheated on him, and it must’ve been an uncharacteristic display of anger. You’d be angry too if you were him, maybe enough to kill. At least that’s what you told yourself.

“Let’s go.” you managed to say to him, and he brushed himself off, his head low as he roughly pushed through the crowds of people to get to the exit.

Fresh air felt like salvation as he heaved in as much into his lungs as he could. His head was beginning to clear, the adrenaline and rum wearing off as he stood facing the nearly empty streets, hands in his pockets.

“Jungwon,” you began, but he shook his head, refusing to look you in the eyes.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now.” he said hollowly, and you bit your tongue, tears beginning to well in your eyes. “Don’t cry, y/n. I can’t take it.”

“It just happened.” you said in a weak defense, and he shook his head again.

You felt hesitant sitting in the front seat with him, but he made no moves to stop you, just reversing the car roughly and pulling out into the street.

It was a silent ride. The kind of silence that made you wonder if the two of you would ever speak again, and you were suddenly struck with the fear that four years may be over in one night. Because of one moment, because of one person.

“Are we gonna be okay?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. His eyes were firmly set on the road, refusing to look at you. He sighed, hands trembling on the wheel.

“I don’t know.”

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Jungwon hadn’t spoken to you for two days.

It was hard to avoid each other, considering you lived in the same apartment. But it was Sunday, and he hadn’t spoken a single word in your direction since you betrayed him two nights previous. And judging from how many times he’d ignored you despite pleas for his attention, he seemed to have no intention of stopping.

You didn’t know what to do, but you couldn’t stand the silence.

“Are you going to leave me?” you finally asked, choking down tears as you sat on the couch. Jungwon was in the kitchen, doing nothing but avoiding you.

“I don’t know.” Jungwon finally spoke, his voice a whisper. Tears began flowing freely from your eyes. “I really don’t know.”

“I know I can’t convince you of anything.” you surrendered, silent sobs escaping your mouth as you cried. “I won’t tell you to stay.”

“I love you, y/n.” Your heart warmed despite your sadness. “More than anything in this god forsaken world. I can’t bear being around you after what you did. But being without you sounds infinitely worse.”

“So what do we do?” He liked that you said ‘we’. It made him feel like you were a team despite what you had put him through. He set down the knife he was holding, his hands trembling as he looked at you. He could barely stand to see you cry.

“We wait.”

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

It turns out that Riki was the kind of person who fell deeply. He hadn’t been in love his entire life; he hadn’t even believed it existed until a few weeks ago. To him, love was a myth, as imaginary as unicorns or pots of gold at the end of rainbows. It was a concept, not a reality. But that’s the thing about not believing in love; when it hits you, it hits hard. And Riki’s mind was racing with radical thoughts, and mostly images of you.

He had called you twelve times since the party, and you hadn’t picked up once. You didn’t show up to class on Monday. Your boss claimed you called out of work sick when he went to visit the diner.

You were avoiding him. And in his mind, that was the worst possibility. But he wasn’t concerned; he would find you. He would always find you.

He just had to find out where you lived. And to do that he had to find you, which was seeming to be difficult. So he’d do the next best thing.

He would find your boyfriend.

It was difficult to find out anything about Jungwon from the internet. He didn’t seem to have a strong social media presence, but after a bit of searching, he found an account with a small following that seemed to match him. From there, he deduced that Jungwon worked at a tech company with a man named Jay, whose profile indicated that the name of it was Enhypen SK. A quick search told him that its headquarters were located downtown. Riki got into his car.

He rolled a crick out of his neck. He had been waiting outside of the building for hours, watching men and women come in and out, in and out. He sat in the front seat of his car, chair reclined as he observed with unrelenting eyes. Finally, there he was.

Brown hair flying in the wind, a cup of coffee in his shaking hand, the contents spilling over the edge as he walked across the street, holding his jacket above his head to cover himself from the rain. Riki could almost laugh at the perfect businessman cliche.

The building wasn’t on a particularly crowded street. There were no cameras monitoring the traffic, as few cars drove down the road. Riki realized with growing delight that there was nobody in sight but him. And Jungwon.

He was on the curb. Riki put his car into drive. The light turned red. Riki peeled out of his parking spot. Jungwon was in the center of the crosswalk.

Riki accelerated.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

You dropped the phone when the hospital told you your boyfriend had been run over by a car. You didn’t have time to think, abandoning the meal you were making, the stove still burning as you snatched your keys off the table and ran out the door without a second’s hesitation.

He thankfully wasn’t dead. They didn’t catch who did it, and Jungwon wouldn’t tell them, if he knew. He had a concussion. Two of his ribs were mildly fractured. He was bleeding internally, but it luckily wasn’t fatal. He had burns along his leg from hot fuel, and a facial laceration from rolling over the shattered windshield, a cut running from the edge of his eyebrow to the apple of his cheek.

The doctors were shocked he was even alive. The perpetrator had hit him at 45 mph, and he rolled over the entire car before hitting the ground. He laid unconscious in the street for 20 minutes, and had to crawl across the street to call for help, refusing to die. Considering his situation, he was lucky; he should’ve been dead.

According to the nurses, he had fought to leave the hospital immediately. He had jumped out of bed the minute he gained consciousness, which shouldn’t have been possible in his state. Only when they demanded he stay did he ask them to call you, and even then, he tried to leave constantly, surprisingly mobile and alert despite being presumed dead.

The staff thought he was a monster.

You ran into his arms the first chance you got, despite the protest from the nurse caring for him. You cried into his chest as he held you, stroking your hair.

“I was afraid you died.” you sobbed, and he shushed you soothingly.

“I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry, Jungwon. You don’t deserve this.” He had the feeling you were talking about more than just the car accident. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” he said, staring at the wall as he held you more tightly. When you released him, you checked him for damage, holding his hand in yours.

Besides burns, bruises, and the cuts on his cheek, he seemed surprisingly fine. He was sitting upright, speaking clearly, seemingly fine. But he was staring blankly at you. You saw nothing in his eyes, not a shred of hope, relief, or fear. Nothing, just dull brown marbles in the sockets of his eyes before he turned away from you.

“Who did this?” you asked shakily, and he clenched his jaw.

“I don’t know.” he responded. You weren’t sure if he was telling the truth, maybe lying out of pride or embarrassment. But you weren’t going to ask, not when he was in this state. “You know, I realized something. When I got hit by that car.” You scooted closer to him, brushing the hair out of his face. It was matted with sweat to his forehead.

“What was it?” you asked gently when he didn’t continue.

“They were right. Your life does flash before your eyes when you almost die.” he said quietly. “And you know, all I saw was you. My entire life, in one blink of an eye. That’s when I realized,” He looked at you. “I can’t afford to lose you. Not to anything.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” you said, blinking away more tears.

“I know. I’m going to make sure of it.” You didn’t know how to respond, so you didn’t. “I forgive you. For everything you did. I don’t care about any of it.”

“You don’t have to say that.”

“I mean it. All that matters is that I have you.” His grip on your hand tightened, and you pursed your lips, pulling him into an embrace. He was cold as ice.

“I’m just happy I still have you with me.” you said hoarsely.

“I’m never going to let anything tear us apart. Never.”

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Jungwon knew exactly who hit him with that car.

He would recognize that face anywhere, even in a brief moment, in a mere second of terror before impact. A flash of those devilish eyes through the windshield. They were the eyes that haunted him, sleeping and waking. And he was determined to get revenge.

This man had changed him. He no longer recognized himself. He looked in the mirror and saw a man haunted by hatred, by anger, and by violence. In his many years of life, he had never despised someone enough to hurt them, and yet every part of him was itching to kill. This was a pest, one that Jungwon was sure to exterminate.

He wasn’t going to tell you anything, no, it would only stress you out. As a couple, you had been through enough recently, and he didn’t want anything else on your plate. You had enough to worry about, with him practically incapacitated.

You visited him every day in the hospital. You slept by his bedside, barely going to class or to your job, just holding his hand as nurses tended to him, doctors flitting in and out of his room. He only had three days left in the hospital until he was discharged. 

But he couldn’t wait.

You were dead asleep on the chair beside his bed, your eyes shifting underneath their lids. The room was empty. He ripped the IV out of his arm, getting to his feet.

Under any other circumstances, he shouldn’t have been able to walk. But Jungwon felt stronger than he ever had as he walked through the halls barefoot, his hospital gown fluttering in the wind like a ghost. He walked out of the hospital doors unnoticed, the concrete scraping against his bare feet as he started the walk home.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Jungwon owned a gun. It was something he never shared with you; he knew you despised violence. But he was a paranoid person by nature and the idea of a home invader, serial killer, a stalker, frightened him enough to need protection, a Colt Mustang XSP stored securely under the bottom panel of his bedside table. He needed to protect you; it was his god given duty. Fate had brought you together, and he wasn’t going to let anyone hurt you.

He used whatever strength he had to remove the panel of wood, feeling around until his hand reached the hollow barrel of the gun.

Jungwon was a good shot. His father had taken him to a shooting range once a month from the ages of 10 to 18, god knows why. But he noticed something quickly about himself; he always hit the target.

One time, the supervisor at the range had told him he saw something dark in him. He had said Jungwon might not show it, but once in a while, when he was holding that gun, he could see it in his eyes. It wasn’t a good feeling, to hear that as a 16 year old. But now, he was beginning to consider the possibility.

Besides what you had told him, he knew virtually nothing about Riki. He didn’t know his dreams, his accomplishments, his past, not even his age. This didn’t bother Jungwon, in fact, it made him more relieved than anything. The less he knew, the better. It would make it all easier.

And now it was time to visit the little pest.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Riki was disappointed. In you, for ignoring him. In himself, for not finishing the job. And mostly in Jungwon, for refusing to die. He hit him at 45 miles per hour, that should’ve killed him. When he visited the hospital under the guise that he was his cousin, they told him he was bleeding internally, that it might be fatal. And yet, he was alive. He knew it for a fact; Riki waited outside the hospital until you showed up. And you didn’t leave, you never left. Which meant Jungwon was still in there.

It seemed like Jungwon would need something more fatal, which was upsetting. It was the perfect set up; the street was empty, there were no cameras, no witnesses. Jungwon wouldn’t live to tell the tale. Riki prayed that Jungwon didn’t recognize him, if he did, he’d surely tell you. Then he’d really lose you for good.

He was parked outside the hospital for the third day in a row, just waiting to catch you alone. He hoped your boyfriend was in a coma, maybe unable to speak, maybe mentally damaged. He rolled his shoulders, tense with worry and from sitting in the leather seat for so long. The hood of his old silver car was bent from the impact of Jungwon’s body slamming against it, and his license plate was barely hanging on for dear life. He didn’t pay attention to it.

The only thing he cared about was ending him for good.

On the other side of the city, Jungwon had just walked into the housing office of his university. The door creaked as he forced it open, his shoes clicking on the tile floor. He knew a man who worked in the office, a friend of his who played secretary at the front desk. That was the nice thing about being a good person; you make connections everywhere you go.

“Sunghoon.” Jungwon said, and his voice was hollow. The man looked up from his keyboard, pushing his glasses up his forehead with a faint smile.

“Hey,” he said in greeting. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I need a favor.” Sunghoon was immediately concerned with Jungwon’s appearance. He had changed from his gown into normal clothes, but the open cut on his face and the bags under his eyes told the story of what had happened to him. Bruises were littered across his right cheek, and a part of his hair was singed, just below the ear, barely noticeable. He stumbled on his left leg when he walked and he held his ribs tightly with one of his hands.

“Are you okay?” Sunghoon asked with concern.

“I got hit by a car.” he said, and Sunghoon frowned.

“Jesus.” “I need an address.” Sunghoon gestured for him to continue. He knew he wasn’t supposed to give away information like this, but Jungwon was trustworthy. Throughout their friendship, he had shown he was a kind man. He wouldn’t hurt a fly. “Freshman named Riki Nishimura.” Sunghoon’s fingers flew across his keyboard.

“Edge of town. Building code is 3405, apartment 2.” Sunghoon recited off the screen, his glasses back on his nose as he read.

“Thanks.” Jungwon said, turning on his heel.

“Don’t you want me to write it down for you?” Sunghoon called after him, and he waved him off, swinging the door open.

“I’ll remember it.”

And he did. Twenty minutes later, he was parked outside.

It was the kind of apartment that had separate units and entrances. The other three apartments seemed completely empty, and the neighborhood seemed practically deserted, if you could even call it a neighborhood. There were two houses down the road, one of which was boarded up, the other was for sale. Then a dead end, the street abruptly stopping in brick and barbed wire. It was good for Jungwon’s situation. It wasn’t like he wanted anyone to hear what he was about to do.

He got out of his car, hand deep in the recesses of his jacket. He rapped on the door, once, twice, thrice. Then he removed the gun from the waistline of his pants, cocking it in a fluid motion and shooting off the lock.

Metal scraps exploded across the steps of the apartment, and the doorknob hung loosely from its socket, the metal lock missing a keyhole, replaced with a burning hot cavity. Jungwon turned the doorknob, and the door swung open easily.

“House call,” he said, his voice echoing around the empty apartment. “Anyone home?” He peeked his head into the kitchen, the living room. Nobody. His free hand fingered the case of bullets in his jacket pocket. He brought the gun for intimidation only; he didn’t think Riki would be stupid enough to make him use it. But he had 17 rounds left in the magazine of his pistol, and he was planning to spend them all if necessary.

It didn’t seem like Riki was home. Jungwon cracked his neck, irritated. He had run out of the hospital on injured legs and a fractured rib, just to be disappointed. He wondered where Riki could possibly be, and hoped he wasn’t anywhere near you. 

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, keeping his gun by his side. He had 27 missed calls and 45 missed texts, and they were all from you. He tucked it away, trying to push the thought of you out of his head.

He was doing this for you. You’d understand that.

While he was there, he figured he might as well look around. After all, Riki didn’t seem to be home, and he had gone through the effort of blowing off his locks. He creeped up the stairs cautiously, careful to keep his gun ahead of him before he took a step. On the right, there was a bathroom, grimy in the way expected of a teenage boy. On the left was Riki’s room. His closet was the largest thing in the room, stacked to the brim with clothing. It seemed like Riki preferred designer brands over an expensive apartment, and Jungwon pocketed a silver watch sitting on his bedside table.

There was only one more room at the end of the hall. Its door stood slightly ajar, and he could see beams of sun hitting the chestnut floor through the slit. Jungwon walked cautiously towards it, the floorboards creaking under his weight as he pushed the door open.

His eyes widened, pupils dilated. He instinctively took a step back, his gun clattering to the floor as his gaze flitted from the ceiling to the floor, wall to wall. He recoiled from the room, as if it would infect him, shivering with fear. He hadn’t seen anything like this. Not from anyone.

Jungwon’s own eyes watched him from every corner of the room. Photos of himself lined the walls, sporadically pasted against the blue wallpaper. Some were photos he had taken of himself, some that you had taken, accessible through his socials. But the vast majority were photos he had never seen, taken from afar of him at the grocery store inspecting a peach, chatting with a classmate in class, working at his job, his face lit up by his computer on the second floor.

And in the center of the room was you. Your face was painted on a canvas, big enough to almost reach Jungwon’s height, painted intricately with the hand of someone who truly loved their subject. It was as if you were alive and breathing before him, and for a minute, he admired you despite himself. Scrawled at the bottom of the canvas were a mere five words;

I have to save her.

Jungwon was horrified. He felt sick to his stomach with the sudden urge to vomit, and he attempted to control himself, breathing shallowly as he bent to pick up his gun. He aimed it shakily, and it was the first time he trembled while holding a pistol in his hands. He fired ten rounds, each scarring the wall as they tore through the canvas.

Your face was a mess of torn paper and sizzling paint when he was done, and it pained him to see. Jungwon grit his teeth, tucking his gun back into the waistband of his pants as he turned around to exit this god forsaken house.

Now Riki really had to die.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Riki arrived home, and the first thing he noticed was the ten bullets sitting underneath the window of his painting room. If he had walked past just a bit faster, if he wasn’t looking at the ground, he would’ve missed them. But he didn’t, and he bent down to pick them up, the casings barely still warm. When he looked up, there were ten matching holes in the wall. He was immediately on high alert.

When he removed his keys from his pocket, he quickly realized he didn’t need them. Shards of protruding metal, burnt black at the edges, became what once was the lock to his door. The wooden door was ajar, and he opened it as quietly as possible.

He slipped off his shoes at the door, his footsteps silent as he walked through his home. His living room and kitchen looked completely untouched. His nerves burning with fear, Riki reached for a knife, his trembling hands gripping the handle as the metal glinted in whatever dim daylight remained as the sun began to fall below the horizon.

The stairs moaned under his feet as he walked towards the room at the end of the hallway. It didn’t look like anyone had even entered his home; everything was the way he left it. But when he opened the door to that room, he felt like he could cry.

Ten bullet holes. Ten scarred, singed cavities in your gaping face, the canvas torn and burned until you were completely unrecognizable.

His art. The only thing he had been living for. It was destroyed, and he knew exactly who to blame. Tears ran down his face as he approached it, the knife forgotten in his hand while he caressed the mutilated canvas.

I have to save her. Those scrawled words remained untouched at the bottom of his creation, and he ran his hand over them. They rang true.

If Jungwon did this, and Riki knew he did, then he was dangerous. And that meant he had to save you before you ended up like the shredded painting he had so devoutly adored.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Jungwon had fled the hospital without warning at 5:32 pm. It was 9:00 pm, and you hadn’t heard a word from your boyfriend

You were worried sick. He was hurt, too hurt to be wandering the streets, getting into fights, doing whatever he was doing. You checked his work, but they hadn’t caught sight of him since he left, on the day he was almost killed. None of his teachers had heard from him, nor had his friends. You must’ve called him a hundred times, and not once did he pick up. So, despite yourself, you did the only thing you could think of.

It’s not like you couldn’t guess who’d hit your boyfriend with their car. Jungwon’s unwillingness to tell you about the accident was an immediate red flag, not to mention his sudden switch in attitude. His workplace was in an isolated, corporate area where not many people drove, and it seemed too convenient to be an accident. Not many people had a vendetta against Jungwon, he was too kind to have enemies; except one.

He picked up on one ring, and the other side of the phone was quiet except for the gentle sound of his breathing.

“Riki,” you said, attempting to stabilize your trembling voice. “Let’s meet.”

Riki didn’t ask any questions. He agreed without hesitation, and a part of you almost felt bad. After all, what if he didn’t hit him? What if you were wrong?

But you couldn’t afford to doubt yourself, and you tucked a canister of pepper spray into your pocket before grabbing your keys and running downstairs. In case Jungwon was in trouble, you didn’t have any time to waste.

You were so distracted, you had even forgotten it was Halloween.

You had asked Riki to meet you across town. You knew there was a large construction lot a couple miles behind your school, where nobody ever visited, rarely even the construction workers, especially not at this hour. You needed to get him in a place where nobody would hear you. If he was willing to admit anything that had happened between him and Jungwon, he wouldn’t do it in front of an audience.

You could feel his presence before you saw him. When you heard his slow footsteps through the soft, unpaved ground, it felt like the world had gone black. Something in him had changed. You used to feel joy and love at the sound of his voice and the scent of his cologne, but now it made you uneasy. 

“Y/n?” he said, and you saw the dark silhouette morph into his fine features and unkempt hair as he stepped closer. He stopped a few paces away from you, and you attempted to smile.

Before you knew it, he had pulled you into his arms, and you were swimming in his leather jacket, his grip almost painful. The scent of violets and cigarettes drowned you. You felt like you could throw up.

“I’ve been so worried about you.” his voice trembled as he spoke, and you gradually wrapped your arms around him. “Where have you been?”

“The hospital.” you said, your voice a whisper. He released you, and the confused look in his eyes was almost enough to convince you he was innocent. “Jungwon…he got hit by a car.”

“Is he alright?”

“No. But we’ll be okay.” Riki didn’t like that you said ‘we’. It seemed you didn’t care if your boyfriend had almost killed him. It was like he didn’t matter to you.

“Why didn’t you call me back?” he asked in hushed tones.

“I didn’t know what to think.” You wiped away a tear, not even knowing you were crying. “After what happened that weekend-”

“He almost killed me.”

“It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have kissed you.” There was hurt in his eyes, and you didn’t recognize him. The smug, arrogant boy you had known was nowhere to be seen.

“How can you say that?” You shook your head, wiping away more tears. “I don’t care about him, y/n. We have something special.”

“Riki, I can’t.”

“Don’t I matter to you?” he implored, reaching for your hand, holding it tightly like he might not get the chance ever again. He wouldn’t.

“Of course you do. But Riki, I don’t love you.”

“That’s a lie!” he shouted, and the sudden switch in volume made you shudder in fear. “You do love me. You’re just afraid.”

“Of what, Riki? Of you? I’m not scared, I’m an adult, I know what I want. You’re just a confused boy who thinks he’s in love with a girl he can’t have.”

“That’s not true.” he said it so willfully, you almost believed him. “You don’t understand, you just don’t understand. Since I met you, you’re all I can think about. Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for you. I even-” He cut himself off. He froze, and the only sound was the cold wind as you two stared at each other.

“Even?” you whispered, and he set his jaw.

“I even tried to kill him.” 

You felt like your world was crashing down around you. You had imagined a million possibilities in your relationship with Riki. You had imagined kicking him to the curb, indulging in his affections until he got bored, you even imagined leaving Jungwon for him. But in none of your fantasies had you believed him capable of murder.

Your eyes widened in terror, lips trembling, and he could sense your fear.

“Don’t be scared.” he said, coming closer, and you took a step back. “I’m not a killer, y/n. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“But you tried to.” you said, and his eyes darkened. “You tried to kill my boyfriend. You’re not in love with me, Riki, someone who loved me wouldn’t try to do that. That’s not love, it’s obsession.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true. You don’t know what you’re doing.” You grew closer to him, placing a warm hand against his cheek. “You have a life outside me. We’re young. Don’t waste your time chasing me and hurting people.”

“Don’t say that,” he repeated, his eyes red with suppressed tears. “I would do anything for you. I love you, I’ve never felt that way about anyone.” You attempted to pay attention to what he was saying, but a twig cracked in the background, drowned out by the sound of his words, but you were listening. You looked over his shoulder. “I can’t be away from you, y/n, I can’t take it.”

“Riki, I can’t be with you. Not now, not ever.”

“Is it because of Jungwon?” he asked, and you shook your head. “I don’t care who’s in my way. I’ll take care of it.”

A ghostly face appeared in the distance, just barely lit enough for you to recognize him. That scar on his face, those bright doe eyes turned dull, you knew that face anywhere. Riki continued to speak, and Jungwon put a silent finger over his mouth.

Something about this situation was wrong. You had this overwhelming sense of terror, and it had its claws around your lungs, draining you of all the breath and blood in your body. Every nerve and cell in your body was screaming, writhing restlessly in white hot pain. Jungwon stepped closer, and your shoulders shook fearfully.

“Riki. I don’t want you to hurt him.” you said, and Riki grabbed your face, his cold fingers gently gripping your chin.

“I don’t care.” he said, and his words cut you like a knife. “I’ll do whatever it takes. You belong with me.”

There was a barrel of a gun, and you felt a strangled scream rising in your throat when you saw that Jungwon was holding it. And the edge of it was directly pointed at the back of Riki’s head.

You tried to scream, you tried to warn him, but there was no time. You dropped to your knees as the blast rang through the empty air, a flash of white and red lighting up the air like fireworks as you covered your ears. An explosion of blood wet the ground, painted strokes of crimson hitting your face and shoes. A silent scream escaped your mouth as Riki’s lifeless body crumpled to the floor inches from where you sat, as terribly beautiful as ever, his wide and fear-stricken eyes immortalized as he stared at you. The last thing he loved before he died.

It was funny, seeing a human die. You thought that you would cry, wail, kick and scream as you brutally mourned the life of someone you had loved.  A life that ended in an instant, as easy as pulling a trigger. But you didn’t cry. You just sat there, helpless and silent, waves of grief, dread, anger, every emotion running through you as your eyes and mouth went dry with fear.

Jungwon was a new man. He stood above you, not even looking at the man he had just killed, only looking at you. His eyes seemed black in the night, unforgiving and unapologetic as he gripped the gun in his hand, the barrel covered in blood.

Pools of crimson blood soaked into the soft ground as Riki laid unmoving, the contents of his head spilled across the dirt. His mouth was open in a silent plea, one that nobody would hear, not even God.

Jungwon kneeled in front of you, and a single tear ran down his face as he desperately searched your eyes. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

“Oh, God.” you said, your voice hollow and unrecognizable.

“I’m sorry.” he said, and for the first time in months, he sounded fully alive. His voice regained its fullness, no longer slouching and frowning, radiating the power he had lost. “I had to do it. You know I had to.” His hands were covered in blood. There were splatters across his face, and you couldn’t distinguish between the blood running from his own cuts and the blood of the man he had just killed. You felt an overwhelming urge to vomit, and you gagged as you tried to hold it back.

“Jungwon,” you said, voice breaking midway through as you began to cry salty tears. “God, Jungwon, oh my God.”

You had no fight left in you. You felt like a hollow shell as you sat there on the floor, the man whom you loved soaked in the blood of someone you had called a friend. Maybe more than that. You wished you could disappear, that everything would go away, that this would have never happened.

“I’m sorry.” he said, and he pulled you into an embrace. 

Despite feeling repulsed by his touch, you craved his skin and his love, so you let him hold you in his blood stained clothes, you let his soiled hands stroke your hair until it was wet with blood. 

“I told you,” he said, quietly. “I would never let anything tear us apart.”

You didn’t have the strength to respond, just sobbing until you couldn’t anymore, until the life and tears were drained out of you, until your heart felt like it would stop. Jungwon held you, his own heart beating as fast as lightning, the breath of life rushing through him. Riki didn’t move an inch, didn’t come back to life no matter how hard you cried. And Jungwon was delighted.

Maybe there was something dark in Jungwon. Or maybe he was sane, in a world where you have to do unspeakable things to protect what you love.

And as he held you, sobbing in the night air, your tears mingling with the blood on your face, he began to realize he was just a man. A sick man.

Just as bad as the rest of them.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

back to the masterlist.

[hollybrookee]

Wrote a silly little story about geopolitical conflicts using minecraft mechanics <3 Can confirm it’s better than the minecraft movie xoxo.

“Being taken under a weathered skeleton’s wing and moving into one of the last mob cities free from the Brine family’s chokehold on society was supposed to be a clean slate for Steve. It was supposed to be his only chance to lead a normal life (sort of). And it was, for a while. Between the human village just above them reporting suspicious mob behavior, Enderian soldiers acting out of turn, whispers of the Nether’s involvement, and Oceanic tribes wreaking havoc on the surface, It seemed his past was starting to run faster than he was. And It certainly didn’t help that the son of the End’s most decorated general got framed in an espionage scheme to undermine Overworld political barriers. Now the guy was digging into Steve’s past to open up old wounds and Steve had no choice but to help him do just that.”

[3liza]

On the off chance you've come across this in your own medical research, my partner (POTS, joint hypermobility, ND) needs to crack/pop her joints several times an hour, especially her fingers, wrists, ankles and knees. She specifically remembers it starting when she was 16. It's not really a problem except that if she can't pop a specific joint the feeling develops into pain, and sometimes she just can't get it to happen for a few hours. Is this something you've heard of in connective tissue disorder literature? Doctors have been, as you would expect, totally useless about it, and while it seems harmless now...

this is off the cuff; i havent heard about this but it does just sound like one of those things that could theoretically happen to someone with weird joints. on the other hand joint "popping" is something most normal people also can do, and in the last research on joints popping in those (non-hypermobile) cases that i read (which was a while ago so maybe out of date), it was discovered that joint popping isn't really "doing" anything, it was just making a bubble of gas and a sound using a vacuum basically, but it seems to have a powerful somatic effect which is why chiropractors use it. it's also a really, really common stim for various ND people. i wouldnt assume your partner's joint popping is purely somatic/habitual though, who knows what's going on in there or how it differs from non-hypermobile people

my concern would be that in 99% of the cases of "weird human tricks" that hypermobile people can do, doing those weird human tricks will loosen and damage tissue further and doctors agree that you should absolutely not do them unless demonstrating a symptom to a doctor or something. i would be concerned about continuing the joint-popping habit for this reason. but at the same time, pain is a really strong indicator in the opposite direction. so who knows.

actually now that i type all this out i am reminded that when my neck or hip gets out of joint i have to pop them back into place. i dont know for sure that this is a subluxation (minor dislocation), because im not standing inside an xray when it happens, but thats what it feels like. i do know that this happens to a lot of hypermobile people. the problem with trying to search for the term, which is a real medical term, is that chiropractors (fucking again) have decided that everyone on earth gets subluxations (false) and also that chiropractors can heal every disease by "aligning" your skeleton with powerful blows (false, especially for hypermobile people, who should avoid chiropractors even more dedicatedly than normal people). this is bullshit and can be safely ignored. however, many hypermobile people do actually get minor dislocations frequently, because the connective tissue holding joints together just isnt doing its job. ribs are a really common one. for me its the neck tendons and femoral heads.

i dont think a doctor will have any idea what youre talking about. maybe a physical therapist would be more helpful though, even just to ask questions and see what they think about the "joint popping is possibly damaging my joints further" vs "not popping my joints causes pain" situation

[morallysuperiorlips]

12 Traits to Give Your FMC That Are GUARANTEED to Make Her More Interesting!

She has an unlikely set of skills: Stick her with a set of skills or talents that might not pair well with her occupation or personality. Maybe she's a hellish warrior who's a beast at knitting. Maybe she's a wallflower with a four-octave singing voice. The combinations are really endless, and this is a great and easy way to inject some extra charm into her.

She doesn't exactly conform to societal norm views: And I mean this more than just not adhering to traditional gender roles. Maybe, in the scope of your world, she has a set of views that many might consider unorthodox, or maybe she's just a little more "off the wall" with her opinions than the other characters around her.

Identity crisis, identity crisis, identity crisis: Have her balance different roles that seem like they have no business mixing together. Have her face a trial that makes her question everything. Have her wrestle with the skeletons in her closet (literally or figuratively, whatever you think fits her situation better). Not only will this help make her more relatable, but its a great way to give her some internal strife.

She doesn't know who to support: Is she stuck in between two warring families? Or, maybe the will of her superior vs. the will of her beloved? Whatever the struggle is, giving her a sense of uncertainty around who to support can go a long way in terms of her own conflict and keeping reader interest.

A strong sense of justice goes a long way: I LOVE a girl who has a strong moral compass. Give us the girl who's up in arms about serving justice in the way she believe is right. Bonus points if she will do absolutely anything and everything to defend her ideals. Extra bonus points if her sense of justice doesn't exactly seem "kosher" on paper...

...or maybe it's ever changing: But, on the flip side of that, a more flimsy sense of justice--one that almost appears to change with the tide or time of day--can also pique some interest. This is more than just plain grey morality; this is morality that can flip for any reason.

Traits that don't seem to match up: Like the skills suggestion, this encompasses general personality traits rather than skills. Give us the fiercely independent woman that absolutely craves human touch, or the high IQ genius who has no sense of emotional intelligence, or the fearless leader who wants nothing more than to fall to the background. You can really go nuts here, too!

She's obsessed with SOMETHING: Whether its an obsession or an addiction, this is something I feel like I don't see a lot of in female characters. It could be a substance, or a person, or even a concept. Bonus points if she compromises whatever she might be doing to touch on this obsession. Drive it home for us, writer.

Double life, maybe?: Whether its metaphorical or totally literal, this trait is a great way to dig down to her depths and tack on some intrigue with her character. Is she really hiding a secret identity? Or is she trying to reconcile two contrasting parts of herself?

She's confident in her femininity: Look, I love me a woman who defies gender norms and goes against the grain of femininity, but in that regard, I feel like there isn't enough writing about characters who embrace it. That doesn't always have to be falling into gender roles, but maybe she's really in tune with her nurturing side. Maybe she's the picture of grace. Maybe she just really likes dolling herself up and looking pretty. There's nothing wrong having any of these traits, so having her be confident in them could be a breath of fresh air!

She knows her tastes and she knows them well: Is she goth? Is she coquette? Is she all glam? However she rolls, she knows how she wants to look, and she sure as shit embraces it in her overall aesthetic.

She's a leader...and an imperfect one at that: Yes, this is a dig at the classic "Strong Female Lead." The fact of the matter is that even the best leaders are imperfect, so if your FMC finds herself at the front of a rebellion or an organization, really emphasizing her imperfections can give her some nuance that doesn't make her seem totally and completely untouchable.

As always, gooooooooooooo fucking write something today <3

(If you like my guides, prompts, writing, or art, consider supporting the blog today! All donations help me keep this thing up and running and all are appreciated <3)

[illtrytobegood]

I'll Try To Be Good Comic Mast Post!

Save Files (Main Story)

Prologue: How Frisk Saved Flowey

Newest Member: It’s been a few days since they went home together. Hopefully he’ll adjust soon enough Newest Member Bonus

Flowey vs the Bee: In which Flowey fights a bee while waiting for Frisk to come home

Butterscotch: Flowey finally takes his first big step since arriving on the surface

Cinnamon: Since when were things so simple?

Mistakes Were Made: Everyone makes mistakes…right?

Just Fine: …Nothing is Fine…

Beta: Some lessons are bound to stick

Trial and Error: Change isn’t always easy

ERROR! SAVE FILE CANNOT BE FOUND: Let’s do the time warp

Mixed Signals: There is a glitch in the system

Never Too Late: Sans and Flowey seem to working on a last minute plan!

--- Off Topic Posts

(extras/breaks from the story) still Canon just not always from Flowey's POV

Another Flower [1, 2]

Anonymous LOVE*

April 1st on the Surface (April fools 2016)

Ages for Flowers

Inspiration

Meanwhile: a Warning for Frisk

It's Raining Somewhere Else: A discussion to be had

The Unexpected Gardener: Time to bother a certain skeleton

Their name was April (April fools 2017)

The Misadventures of Flowey: Flowey and Frisk go to school

Endless: Being aware of RESETS has it's disadvantages

The Melancholy of Frisk Dreemurr: Life isn't easy for our lil Ambassador

April Flowers (April Fools 2020) April Timeline (April fools 2025)

--- M!As (Magic Anon Events)

A Soul for Flowey:  Asriel has returned due to a borrowed soul, and has been  given the chance to spend it with his friends and family

Little Tale of Horrors: Everyone is tiny (except Flowey), find out what Flowey does with his new found power.

Swapped!: Frisk has come home from a snack run to different kind of Flowey. 

Flowey School:  All Flowers go to school (Rp Event)

Freaky Flowey Friday:  Flowey and Sans have swapped bodies in middle of Flowey’s judgement. 

Home for the Holidays:  Flowey lands in Christmas Town and must become the best friend, he always was. (Rp Event)

Oh! the Humanity!: Flowey and Sans become humans, but what about the eye?  Another Omegaful Life: Flowey has become an Omega again…. but There seems to be a problem with the transformation   ---

One off Posts/extras 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17 Bonus Art! 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, Additional links

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[mageknight14]

I latch on to every word of twewy and especially neo twewy analysis you write. neo is one of my favorite games of all time and it's so compelling seeing someone write about it the way you do

Aw thanks! I guess with NEO, I was so tired of people just dunking it for not being the exact same as OG TWEWY when I was like "what the fuck, this is the best possible sequel you can make to something as insane as TWEWY" when I played the game. I think what really got me while I was on reddit was someone talking about NEO was, and I quote, "too experimental of a sequel for something like TWEWY" and I had to let the irony of that statement sink in for a full minute.

At that point, I was like "nah, screw this, Imma give the game the analysis it deserves."

I think the most impressive thing about NEO is that it inverts (get it? Like Inversion?) a lot of things within the original but not with the intent to foil it just because. There are certainly a lot of deliberate callbacks to the original in NEO (An0ther basically being Rindo’s CAT, Shoka sharing traits with both Neku and Joshua and even having Sakura in her last name, having the three weeks again, a full-on team structure as opposed to just duos, the ideals of Shinjuku vs Shibuya, etc), but the game puts forth its own unique twists on these concepts to have them fit within NEO’s themes and make them feel natural. Fret shares a very similar backstory to Neku when it comes to having dead best friends that shaped their personalities but Fret chose to cope with his grief in a different way and as a result, he has his own problems to deal with in contrast to Neku. NEO uses the skeleton of the original but aims to tell a story to add on to its lessons of human communication and reflect on the struggles of teens and adults alike in the modern era, and as a sequel to something like TWEWY, I think that’s the best possible call they could’ve gone with.

Maybe one day NEO will get its full due. It’s easy to forget (and it still happens in some circles) but back in the day, people just could not vibe with the original TWEWY, whether it’s for its controls, Neku’s confrontational personality, the surplus load of mechanics the game throws at you at a time, etc…

There were people who would dismiss the game on its face just based off of the premise/style alone and I remember folks on 4chan and other forums comparing Neku to Squall amongst other things. While TWEWY was critically acclaimed, it was also quite subject to criticism. And yet, as years go by, people would look more and more fondly on the game, try it out for themselves, and go "holy shit, this game is fucking rad." The way the game uses its mechanics to tell its story, the way the themes were detailed, the messages it expressed, etc…

I think NEO is in a similar position to the original in this regard not just by some people who are just experiencing the TWEWY IP for the first time but also fans of the original, funnily enough. Not that I necessarily blame them, given how NEO is a different game from the original in a lot of ways. Still, it’s both funny and frustrating to see people’s dismiss NEO’s strengths (combat, characterization, themes, etc) just for not being like the original when a lot of folks back in the day would dismiss TWEWY just for not playing like other games at the time.

Not that I don’t think that NEO is exactly free from criticism. I certainly have a lot to say about how it handles aspects of a New Day (namely Tsugumi) as well as some of its pacing but frankly, I don’t think the original is perfect either. And I’m okay with that.

Why? Because I love both games to the point that their strengths are enough for me to brush over the flaws they do have in spite of it all as well as the ways they approach storytelling and combat design.

I don’t think there’s ever gonna be another game like OG TWEWY. That’s just impossible due to how the game was made. But for what it’s worth, I don’t think there’s gonna be another game like NEO for a long time either. And in a way, that makes it the perfect sequel to TWEWY.

[billionbrilliantstars]

Humanity vs Evil

The difference between Kamala Harris and Donald Trump is that Trump’s flaws come from a disordered personality and from hatred. Kamala’s flaws come from her humanity. She is human. She is real. She is compassionate and courageous and yeah she did flub up a few interviews as vice president. Because she is a good and genuine human being. She’s been accused of not knowing where she stands because she stands out by not giving the simple easy answers that we crave. She understands the nuance to important issues. Most things are not all or nothing. That is a cognitive bias that all human beings are prone to, but we must fight it. All you have to do to understand who Kamala Harris is, is to read her book. She cares deeply for others and she cares deeply for diversity and justice. When she falls down, because she is human, she fights and gets back up. The things she is criticized for, her joy, her laughter, her occasionally imperfect interviews, her complex view of issues etc., are all things that prove her humanity. We need her leadership. America is a beautiful and wonderful place but we have our skeletons. We have our prejudices. We need to fight them. We need to move towards unity.

Donald Trump has abandoned his humanity a long time ago. I’d argue he abandoned it when Barack Obama became president. He believed his birth certificate conspiracy would have prevented a black man from becoming president, and it didn’t. He knew it was a racist conspiracy. His own mother was an immigrant. It wasn’t about Obama’s father being an immigrant. It was about the color of his skin.

Let’s make the right choice this November. Let’s choose unity. Let’s choose cohesion. Let’s choose justice. Let’s choose a person who does genuinely care about our economic well being.

[madscientistshowdown]

PROPAGANDA

Herbert Ludwig:

After an incident involving a patient waking up with no skeleton, no one knew what happened to Dr. Herbert Ludwig. But this new guy, “The Medic”, proceeded to fill his colleagues with baboon hearts (and…uteruses?) to experiment with his new über system. The surgeries to implant these also left one of his doves inside of a young kid from Boston. Other experiments included turning a mugger into a sentient jack-o-lantern, sponging up blood on a battlefield to just wring it back in, and fixing a man’s eye. (That last one doesn’t sound bad, but he’s got a haunted eye socket, so it keeps mutating to fight them every Halloween)

Bro replaces his allies organs with baboon organs and keeps a living head begging for death in his fridge. Allies often imply they'd rather endure their injuries than face his healthcare. Invented healing guns. Tricked the devil into a deal that gave him extra lifespan.

Stole a guy's skeleton (that's how he lost his medical license). Brought a guy back to life just to see if he could. Sold his soul to the devil and surgically grafted more souls onto himself. Has pet pigeons. Installed working, pregnant Bonobo uterusses into some guys and helped birth a healthy baby Bonobo

Piotr Kozlowski:

He’s so cool he’s literally done extensive surgery on himself and he does the extensive plastic surgery procedures on the Amelia project’s clients

This dear child has many names. He’s freakishly tall, but his more striking qualities are his extreme number of tattoos and piercings. Of course, she’s also done several other body mods, like grafting crocodile skin to his more sensitive areas. Kozlowski is a master of the human body, able to transform anyone’s appearance into that of another, a skill that comes in handy when you need a corpse for death faking. He can even swap his own face with someone else’s. And if something does go awry, his tears are the fountain of youth. That’s probably also how he’s lived for thousands of years.

He was a plastic surgeon alongside his plastic surgeon husband and one day they decided to swap faces as an ultimate show of love. Except later he realized that at some point his husband had swapped faces again, and the man he'd been treating as a husband was the guy his husband had swapped faces with. He never found his husband again. …Except it's possible that that whole story is bullshit that he made up when he was getting interrogated by MI6 agents. [This is why the answer to "Does he have a doctorate?" is complicated. It depends whether you believe his story.] In the present, he works for a company that fakes people's deaths. His job is to make corpses look like the clients, and to give clients new faces for their new lives. He is picky about cases and always wants a challenge. He once turned one of Santa's reindeer into a horse.

He helps people fake their deaths by making replacement corpses and giving their clients new identities. He got married and they swapped their faces via surgery as an expression of their love. Then his husband swapped faces with someone else and disappeared, so he did the same. Since then, he's had a hundred different faces, including a criminal and an octogenarian. That story could be a big fat lie. He's got tattoos all over him; one of them is a phoenix on his forehead he got in a magic ritual - one of them are lyrics from a Katy Perry song. Each of his fingers belongs to a different person. He's in a centuries long situationship with King Arthur. He's even gay.

Kozlowski is a surgeon for the Amelia Project, an agency that fakes their clients' deaths and helps them resurface with new identities into new lives. Kozlowski does all kinds of alterations if needed to fit the requirements of each client case. At first he is only mentioned for a small at the beginning of the show as he spends his time mostly at his lab, this creates a great mystique around him, but when he appears, boy, he really comes in with style. A fan of magic tricks, spiritualism, music, Katy Perry, tattoos and with centuries of stories up his sleeve, he is one of the most fun characters to listen to in this podcast. Now for the full propaganda: this is also propaganda for the Amelia Project podcast in general, yall should listen to it because the antics, the stories and the chaos is so fun and entertaining to listen to. Arthur and Kozlowski really shine in the show together as a duo of idiots living extraordinary adventures as they work for their agency (there is also other really cool characters as well, this duo is a very big part of the backstory of the agency). You also get: height difference (Kozlowski is really tall), a bunch of blorbos commiting crimes and finding their way out of situations, causing historical events, phoenix, lots and lots of cocoa, they are broke all the time but have an expensive taste for really good champagne, the feels. Yes, you get feels. Enjoy!

Idk about the doctorate thing tbh, he's 3000 years old and changes identities like hair so it's likely this is true

He's over 3000 years old, he's a gay icon, his tears are an elixir of immortality and he works for an agency that fakes other people's deaths by performing miracles with plastic surgery to adapt the client to their new identity.

He has different fingerprints (he switched with the fingerprints of random people such as: a surfer, a war veteran, a drummer and more, considering that each finger corresponds to an individual)

He supposedly switched faces with his husband as a wedding gift for shit and giggles and it DIDN'T stop there. My man has switched faces with an escaped criminal from Interpol, a disfigured war hero, an octogenarian and more (supposedly over a thousand times) He has several sick tattoos, with honorable mention lyrics from Katy Perry's song Roar in a spiral on his scalp. He occasionally creates experiments that defy human nature and when he cooks it can start to… Be alive or snth *A talented storyteller and may or may not have met a phoenix once *Makes some really good puns (respect the hustle) *A really nice guy overall and once sponsored a bunch of starving orphans

[intrepid-fictioneer-7]

Recent chapters of the underrated Fate spinoff Fate/type Redline got me in my feelings so I had to talk about it at lengths, even moreso now that it hasn't updated in months (the mangaka, Ryouji Hirano, has health problems I believe). Spoilers obviously.

Now, when I call type Redline, "underrated", it's more of a subjective than objective assessment. Despite being a manga and thus far more accessible than the untranslated visual novels or light novel series of TYPE-MOON, I see it discussed fairly rarely. At the very least, as far as I know, there hasn't been much big posts analyzing it, so I believe this should be one of the first.

Just don't expect something really deep, these are mostly my musing, rambling observations.

In fact, for a long time, I didn't really have a well-articulated thought about Redline's themes. The contrast of a Holy Grail War taking place in the middle of a world war simply had me chalk it up to the tried and true "war is hell" and not think any deeper (which was a bit intellectually lazy of me). And there is certainly that, but it's a bit more elaborate than that, or else I wouldn't find Redline as interesting. And it all reached a thematic "climax" of sorts in the recent chapter as of the time of writingé

In reality, the story signaled its central theme from the very start, I just wasn't paying attention. One of the first chapters ends with this page:

At first, I thought this was just about Nobunaga. But it turns out this specific page and its text will become the precursor of how the manga is going to present Servants, and how this presentation fits into its larger representation of what war is.

Something you hear somewhat frequently when people mention Redline is "it made Servants scary again". It is only half true, Servants have usually only been "scary" in specific circumstances (Bluebeard in FZ, True Assassin in FSN, and Jackie in Apo come to mind). What they actually mean is that Redline shows Servants as above human again, and it does so by showing them brutally go through lots and lots of human bodies, when Fate is usually about Servants fighting each other. You see Servants vs. humans sometimes, but it's usually 1v1 deals. The only notable exception I can think of is Clan Calatin against Alcides in strange Fake.

There is also Apocrypha, but they are up against armies of homunculi, golems, and animated skeletons, so the dynamic is a bit different than with modern armies. It does however say this.

Indeed, Lancer of Red could burn to ash and crush the stakes with his flames and divine spear. But the Red camp's odds of successfully opposing the Black camp's overwhelming amount of material resources were fifty-fifty. Fighting a force of twenty thousand was beyond the capacities of even a mighty Heroic Spirit. Even then, there would have been no problems if they were alive, but right now they were Servants. The more they consumed prana in great quantities, the closer they approached death. (Apocrypha volume 2 ch.2)

Which is interesting in light of Redline's story, but I digress.

But here, in Redline, because it's during the Second World War, and members of the military are using Servants to do their bidding as well as planning to use them to win the war, there are a lot of interactions between Servants and modern human armies, usually violent ones, to catastrophic results, as Servants go through lots of human meat like cheese. The picture above is after Oda Nobunaga shoots down an entire fleet of American planes heading to Japan.

It's a type of interactions we only ever really saw when Berserker Lancelot in Zero overtook a JSDF fighter jet to fight Gilgamesh on Vimana, while the other plane got eaten by the Lovecraftian horror Caster summoned. The militarized forces of Faldeus in FsF mostly only go after human mages and steer clear of Servants.

And that makes for an interesting contrast that Redline is all too happy to highlight time and time again. When they say "Servants are scary", they mean "Servants are above human", in every sense of terms. No normal human can harm them or even pose a challenge to them, for they are above human strength and capabilities: they are superhuman, they are inhuman.

And that does not just mean inhuman power, but also inhuman thinking.

One of the main conflict throughline of the manga is the relationship between Kanata Akagi, our main protagonist, and his Servant Okita. They don't clash as such, it's not like Fate route Shirou hindering Saber from doing her job, nor is it like Kiritsugu disregarding Saber. It's more low-key, like a misunderstanding that can never be solved. Okita was a warrior in life, and this Holy Grail War in war-torn Japan is just another battlefield to her. Kanata however was born and raised in a Japan long after the war ended, in more peaceful times where he never had to kill. And it's this fundamental difference in lived experiences and mindset that stops them from ever reaching an understanding about how to approach the war:

Even later, as the war goes on, after Okita almost killed potential allies (more on that later), and Kanata reveals to her he comes from the future and what his goals are (ensure his grandma doesn't die and he can come back), and they decide to have a more honest partnership with each other, it's still not enough.

Because when Okita kills a human soldier again, this time a soldier wounded by Berserker who charged Kanata because he was a Master and he blamed magi for how pear-shaped the whole situation has become, this time she does a 180 and instead of convincing Kanata to become ready to kill, she instead wants him to think of her as his tool to kill in his place and take the burden upon herself:

Kanata can only ask her if she's really fine being a sword to be used by someone else and nothing more, to which she replies that's all she needs.

Do note how completely obscured, borderline blank (save for a small, thin-lipped smile), Okita's face is as she says this. As if Kanata and us readers really can't tell how she actually feels about her own words.

This is not the first time the manga does this with Okita.

Coming back to the almost aborted alliance I mentioned earlier, what happened is that, a few chapter before this, the Rider of this war, Sakamoto Ryouma and Oryou, met with Okita to ask her and her Master for an alliance to stop the war from spiraling further and kill more innocents. It would be normal to be suspicious of their intentions, especially since Ryouma initially hides from her that he is a Servant.

But that's not the reasoning Okita uses to reject the alliance and subsequently attack them:

"There is only one path for me (war)." And here it is again: "She's not human."

And it happened even earlier too. When Servant Assassin (Okada Izou) fights Okita, he grows more and more disturbed as he doesn't feel fear, anger, or exaltation as he fights and cuts her, feeling nothing at all from her aside from the scent of blood. Okada's thoughts are interspersed with Kanata's own thoughts about visiting his dying comatose grandmother in the hospital as a kid. And when Kanata touched his grandmother's hand, just like when Okada faces Okita, all it felt like was that:

As you can see, a lot of emphasis, both textually and visually, that Okita does not feel human, and her way of thinking is so alien people can't comprehend her.

And it's not just her, Servants in general are portrayed this way throughout. You saw the pilot's words about Nobunaga at the start of this post, but it occurs later as well. When she was first summoned in the previous war a few years ago by the Imperial Army, her summoner was an arrogant dude who tried to get her to submit and she casually beheaded him. Following that is this page:

Nothing showing on this blood soaked face except for elongated eyes like those of a monster. And after that, everyone in the room prostrate themselves before her like she is a god they worship.

She picks her Master from the crowd, the half-Japanese girl Kaname Asama, and she treats her surprisingly decently from what we see throughout the manga, giving the shrinking violet of a girl respect like she is her attendant, unlike Kaname's boss Magatsu (more on him later) who threatens her and even hits her.

So you would think they have a cordial relationship? Well, maybe they did, but that was until the recent chapter, which has Magatsu's Berserker fight Lancer, and instead of helping their ally, Nobunaga wants to leave, which leads to this exchange:

The same face and eyes again. Kaname doesn't understand her Servant, nor can she tell what she's thinking, just as Nobunaga's face loses all expression, making it impossible for us to tell as well.

(This is not exactly new in regard to Nobu: Keikenchi, the original author of Koha-Ace and the mind behind Redline, already made a Koha-Ace oneshot previously focusing on her, and in it it was shown that, when she was alive, Nobunaga could not "hear" the voices of other people, other humans, and it's her being unable to understand other people that contributed to both her rise and fall)

Another Servant serving as a good example of this is Berserker, which obviously makes sense when it's the Class that from the very start of the Fate franchise in Fate/stay night was there to be impossible to communicate with. But interestingly, everything that surrounds Berserker, not just the Servant itself, reinforces this theme, as if the story employs irony in making the maddest of them all in a war full of mad people the more in-depth examination of the idea instead of being the most obvious.

But I need to scale back a bit to explain.

The Master of Berserker is Major Magatsu, the head of the Imperial Army's magecraft division and one of the main human antagonist. He is kind of interesting in how it's not just his Servant, but his own actions that act as a fulcrum to demonstrate the point. See, in these last stages where it is clear Japan is going to lose, Magatsu wants to keep the war going. His main goal is that he sees the war as not just for the glory of Japan, but as an opportunity to create a world where mages stand at the top, even planning to orchestrate a secret coup within the Japanese military. He is able to amass a great number of men under him, all fanatically loyal to him due to a mixture of his own charisma and appeal to nationalism as well as cigarettes laced with suggestive tobacco making the soldiers smoking it pliable. His followers are so loyal in fact, that when a team of them comes back defeated after facing a Servant trying to deal with Team Kanata, they beat the only survivor up and torture him for his failure and for failing Magatsu, without Magatsu's knowledge or consent (in fact, he is slightly disturbed by this and thinks to reduce the dosage of the tobacco).

But that doesn't deter him from his tactics. Even when he has to hasten his coup after being forced to when pro-war proponents in the war ministry are assassinated, leading to his enraged troops to blame the proponents of suing for peace within the ministry, he still keeps with the easily pliable and fanatical troops even though it is clear he can barely control them. "When the madman runs, any man not mad starts running" is written on a banner hanging on the wall of the magecraft division's headquarters, and Magatsu, who doesn't know who wrote it, finds it a good quote, not knowing how prophetic the words would become. Regardless, Magatsu has made the entire magecraft division and then some fold under his command by making them believe he will be the hero to save Japan. He makes many speeches about saving the nation and how the preservation of the Empire is vital to the preservation of the soul of the nation, and can easily drive crowds into nationalistic frenzy with talks of using Archer and Berserker to fight on mainland Manchuria, and clearly invoking the spirit of complete sacrifice to the nation like in banzai charges and kamikaze, even if not explicitly:

Sometimes, an ordinary and unrefined person will defeat their fear of death and become a noble person with the resolve to throw away their own lives. This phenomenon, which one could call a miracle, is occuring at this very moment, in various places within Japan. War allows all sorts of miracles to exist.

For these reasons, the Colonel, the so far unnamed high-ranked Nazi who is Magatsu's main ally, praises him for "having a knack for understanding human nature", which is why he gives him Berserker, as he believes that, if he experiences the war from the same position as Servants, Magatsu may be able to come to understand them...especially, as he notes, Magatsu completely failed to have Nobunaga pay him any attention:

Magatsu, for all his charisma and servile attitude, completely fails to have Nobunaga pay him any attention even once since her summoning years ago. When summoned, she ignored him in favor of going to Kasame. She doesn't follow his orders nor does she even acknowledge him as a faithful follower: he might as well be air in her eyes. Not only that, she only talks to his subordinate Kaname Asama, whom he disdains for having foreign blood due to being half-Japanese. And the Colonel rightly realizes that Nobunaga's lack of interest makes him seethe. Magatsu seethes so much in fact that he comes to the conclusion that he doesn't need to understand Servants, especially to win when they don't seem to care what he's they're fighting for, so he would rather settle for Berserker than the unruly Archer, believing he can control him thanks to the Heroic Spirit Restraining Device provided by the Nazis. Very predictably, it goes pretty poorly.

As soon as he's summoned and out of the tank he was put in, Berserker immediately begins to indiscriminately kill soldiers of the magecraft division for no reason, and when Magatsu attempts to use his Command Spells on him, he cuts off his arm and crushes it, making the Command Spells disappear. Berserker then engages in a rampage throughout the magecraft division base, gleefully killing every soldier in his way, yet does not kill his Master despite his failed attempt to restrain him:

Magatsu is unwittingly along for the ride as Berserker carries him in his arms as he goes about his "fun".

Naturally, Magatsu's men try to slow down and stop Berserker using "anti-Servant" weapons (lol) that obviously do jack shit. But they use too much firepower and seemingly ignore Magatsu's cries for help, which leads him to believe that they are trying to kill them both. Berserker agrees in his twisted logic, and enacts more violence as he believes his Master is in danger.

The reality is actually different: when Kaname Asama try to get to exercise more caution so they do not accidentally hit and hurt the Major, when he is clearly an hostage, one soldier slaps her and rebukes her, madly stating that there is no way the savior of Japan would ever get hurt by these weapons.

They keep throwing weapons and men at Berserker, which eventually confuses Magatsu, because weren't they trying to kill him? Why then are they wasting their lives against a Servant?

Which is when the point is made.

As this massacre rages on, Magatsu is telepathically contacted by the Colonel, who congratulates him on summoning Berserker and says that the Restraining Device is working wonderfully saying as the major's mana and life are still intact. Magatsu, enraged, accuses the Colonel of having done something to his men, maybe brainwashing them to kill themselves, which is a fair accusation considering it is the Nazis who did assassinate the war hawks and forced Magatsu to accelerate his coup plans.

Except the Colonel says he had nothing to do with it and the reason for the soldiers' actions is far simpler: they admire Magatsu, they truly, genuinely do. The Colonel explains that his accomplishments, from taking control of the war to making a Servant protect the capital from air raids, made him look like a true messiah in the eyes of his men, and Magatsu was too blind to see it. Of course he denies it and calls the Colonel a liar, until he sees one of his men approach and try to reach him, only to be pierced by Berserker's spear for his troubles, and as he lays dying, Magatsu hears his last words on his bloody lips: "Glory to the Major."

As the one-sided battle against the human waves of martyrs continue, the Colonel throws Magatsu's earlier words about the war "allowing miracles" back to his face, bringing the whole arc to its logical conclusion, and I will transcribe the speech in its entirety since it intersperses scenes of the battle and that's too much images to for this post:

How about you open your eyes to reality for once? The only sane person in that battlefield is you. War is cruel. It burdens its victims with a detestable fate. But look at them. They do it for their country, for you. Their madness calls forth even more madness. All these men rush forward, knowing well only death awaits them. War takes these ordinary men, and turn them into martyrs. War allows all sorts of miracles. I thank you. You've allowed me to witness something beautiful. Did seeing people die finally get to you? Feeling remorse? I suppose you didn't have what it takes to be a soldier. This is no time to be losing your mind, Major. It's not everyday you get to experience war from such a safe position. Revel in it a little more. You are at the center of a miracle. That which creates miracles, and gathers people's faith. What do you call that, Major? Do you know? A God. Congratulations, Messiah. In this exact moment and place, you are the one closest to a God.

Just as the voice of God can't reach mortals, your voice can't reach these men. For alas, there are none who can hear it. Raise your head, Major. The curtain has fallen at last. And you should now be able to understand her a little more.

Archer arrives, looking down at Berserker and Magatsu standing on the mountain of corpses of all the men of the magecraft division, and Magatsu tries one last time to get her to look at him by calling for her help, as all he ever wanted was to prove he was worthy to stand at her side...and she laughs in his face. She mocks him for thinking he could ever control a Servant and finds his tear-stained and snotty face hilarious.

And Magatsu, at this last straw after everything, breaks.

As he begins to laugh maniacally, his Servant joins in, and as Archer, Berserker, and him laugh, it's as if the corpses of his men, their mouth frozen in bloody leering rictus by rigor mortis, are laughing with them. Magatsu finally realizes it was wrong to think to use Servants in a war, because they could never be measured by human standards.

It's not that Servants can't be understood, not solely. This sequence of chapters shows it goes deeper than that: it's war that turns everyone mad, and thus makes understanding impossible among humans. And Servants are humanity writ large, the highest of the high and the lowest of the low, because you need to be larger than life to be remembered for eternity in the Throne of Heroes. Which means that, where war turns humans into mad monsters, it makes the Heroic Spirits standing above humans into the embodiments, the apotheosis, the personified concepts of madness.

They are mad gods.

The World War and the Holy Grail War are both founts of insanity, because that's what war does. The average soldier's brain briefly brushes with the eternal sublime, the mysterium tremendum et fascinans that turns humans into figures of worship recorded and enthroned for eternity beyond space and time. And this brief contact with the Absolute gives them the divine language that makes them unintelligible to other men. Their visages, like Moses' after descending the mountain, can no longer be looked upon. They are completely obscured to us who don't live and breathe for war, for violence is their domain now.

War makes Berserkers of us all.

Is it any wonder that the Classes of the Holy Grail War by design favor warriors and warmongers? This war is rife with adepts of violence: a warlord (Nobunaga), a warrior (Mori), a secret police assassin (Okita), a plain assassin (Okada), and a martial artist (Li Shuwen). All of which mad in their own way and choosing the path of violence over any other options.

And I don't think it's a coincidence that the sanest and most "normal" Servants we have seen in Redline not only belong to the Classes less obviously about violence or weaponry, Rider and Caster, but their identities are also not famous for violence: the Rider was a politician and diplomat, while the Caster is a scientific thought experiment about the laws of physics.

I don't know how this will conclude or shake out, but I have my suspicions. Our protagonist Kanata comes from the peaceful post-war Japan and has so far always been repulsed by violence, despite attempts by his Servant and his grandmother to get him to get used to it to be more effective in the war. In fact, he reaffirms that he wants to win the war without becoming a remorseless bloodthirsty killer.

I can see potential routes the story can take depending on whether he slowly succumbs to war's madness or he heroically resists its call. Especially if he is pitted against what seems to be one of the main antagonists, the Nazi Colonel, clearly war's most fervent prophet, whose face is always obscured.

We'll see. The latest chapter as of the time of writing is the fight between Lancer and Berserker. Even the pair that seems to get along the best, Team Lancer, has the Master threatened by her Servant for almost "interrupting" his fight by trying to heal his wounds. And her (current) last words are a perfect encapsulation of the manga and my whole thesis:

[crabsnpersimmons]

I know those Eclipse posts are tagged 'suggestive' as in, yknow. But my brain keeps suggesting that Eclipse wants to literally eat us. Hannible Lector style.

...

Anyways I'd let him.

LOL

well

Hannibal Lecter is a chef 😏

Fun fact: early on while i was still figuring out the details of the AU, i did consider going for a mystery/thriller kind of story.

the main theme of the AU is the identities we present in public vs. our true, genuine selves—and what happens when we neglect our ourselves (mirroring how we can nurture or neglect ourselves with food)

Sun and Moon’s personalities were actually going to be closer to their canon depiction, only to reveal later that they’re very different—Sun doesn’t feel emotions and he’s only acting cheerful and bubbly, while Moon pretends to be cool and aloof but is hungry for attention and love.

and Eclipse? he wasn’t going to be a main part of the story until later. he was going to be the “skeleton” in their closet, literally locked up in the basement of the restaurant because unlike Sun and Moon, he can’t act. After Eclipse’s code was taken to make Sun and Moon, something changed in Eclipse and he became… uninhibited and wild. In a sense, all of them believe that they are broken and incomplete because they’re all programmed with scraps of code. (in my mind it was like: Sun has no heart, Moon as no brain, and Eclipse has no control). Sun and Moon try to make the best of their new lives as chefs, but Eclipse wants out and he wants to be whole again… even if that means getting rid of Sun and Moon.

why i didn’t go with that story?

my control group of friends really liked charming waiter Eclipse—and that wouldn’t work if Eclipse was locked up in the basement 😂

also, it’s already hard enough to suspend your belief that 3 robots can run a small restaurant, it’s even harder to believe that 2 robots can too 😅 and YEAH they can have human employees, but Sun and Moon would have to make sure those human employees stayed out of the basement and i’d also have to create a cast of new characters, which i didn’t really feel like doing 😂

i also just couldn't come up with a compelling end-game. call me basic, i like a happy ending. i like characters learning about themselves and finding love. and i direction the old story was going just wasn't as compelling for me compared to the current direction of the AU

i liked the old idea, but i'm also very happy with the silly trio as they are now. the story may not be as dark, but their characters are still deep and complex, and now with the added benefit of being fun and silly!