#that's covered in papers with a red string connecting everything

[lover-of-skellies]

Under the floor/in the walls is certainly an option I'm seeing here that seems pretty legit. The question now though is within the floor/walls of what building

Someone may or may not have had it before, aside from the original owner, but you don't know. You know the original owner and you're actually very close with him, but he has the equivalent of permanent amnesia. From his pov, bad things happened in another location (that you can't LEGALLY access whenever you want) and the item seemed to disappear in the chaos. He has no idea where it is, either

Imagine with me for a second:

You have some super important item/artifact, and it has enough power to mess with other people's minds. This item could be dangerous if it falls into the wrong hands, and it just so happens that a local wackjob is looking for it

You can't hide the item anywhere in your house, because he'll find it super fast. The item can't be anywhere near you in general, because he's constantly watching

Where do you hide the item?

[woewriting]

wednesday addams is good at everything.

──

The sun was setting in the distant horizon, the orangish color painting the sky, the dim lights automatically turning on as the room became darker, all you could see was the silhouette of the girl sat in her chair, rapidly typing on her writing machine. Watching Wednesday work on her novel always left you mesmerized, she wasn’t allowed to make a single mistake as the antique machine didn’t have an erase button and the writer refused to stain the paper. She was brilliant.

“You’re good at fencing, botany, writing, and I’m sure you’re great at killing people too, but…” You stop, unsure if you should proceed with your, stupidly and terribly planned, plan.

“But?”

“But I doubt that you’re good at kissing.”

Wednesday’s hand stopped typing as she turned her face to the right, her side profile illuminated by the fairy lights that, somehow, you convinced her to hang over her working desk. The perfectly drawn nose, the plump lips, and God, her jawline! So sharp that you’ve always wanted to run your finger over the bone to see if it would cut.

The girl kept her eyes on the wall, her brain working in what her next step to this, obvious, teasing should be. You could almost see the engines twisting inside her skull.

The moment she stood up, her eyes were fixed on your face, jaw tensed up, hands in fists. It was like she was ready to throw a punch at you, it wouldn’t be the first time… but when she took a step closer and you closed your eyes, waiting for the collision, her fingers pulled you by the collar of your shirt until you felt her hot breath against your lips.

“I’m good at everything.” Her voice was serious.

Tilting your chin up, a small smirk tugged the corner of your lips. Eyes slowly opening, meeting hers.

“Why don’t you prove me wrong then, Addams?”

Wednesday loosened the grip on your shirt, the stretched fabric showing your collarbones, a few moles adorning the skin. For a second, in an intrusive thought, the brunette wanted to count each one that covered your body. She had seen a few whenever you wore sleeveless shirts or shorts, they decorated your skin like stars in the night sky, but there was one she had never seen before and, now, got her full attention and became her favorite, a small mole near the vale of your breasts.

She wanted to touch, her hand reaching down to invade the ruined fabric in a curious act, but she stopped midway when she felt the deep breath you took, she could see goosebumps all over your chest with the sudden proximity. You had been next to each other before, but not like this. Not with her eyes peeking through your shirt, her plump lips taking all your attention, so close to yours.

Wednesday was so kissable, and she didn’t even know that.

Not with her hands on your neck as she looked up, big brown eyes staring at your soul. She took a deep breath, swallowing the air to her lungs almost as if it was hurting. And when she closed the gap between you two in a bruising kiss, it felt like a burning knife pierced her throat.

Her nails dug the back of your neck, her teeth biting your lower lip. You knew Wednesday wasn’t gentle, but this was a whole new level. Wrapping your hands on her thin waist, you finally pulled her impossibly closer.

Her tongue licked yours deliciously before sucking hard on it, a struggled sound escaping you, a small string of saliva connecting your lips before she kissed you again, the ragged, unsteady breathing making your lungs burn, begging for air. Pulling back, your chest rose and fell aggressively, your lips lingering over hers, almost touching, uneven breathing colliding with your face.

Before you could kiss her again, her hand pressed down to your chest, pushing you away. Your knees buckled against the bed frame, and you awkwardly fell onto the mattress.

Wednesday was blushed, eyes half open and red, swollen lips. She looked like a mess, and you’re sure you look even worse, you could feel the burning feeling on every centimeter of your body, your hair all over your face.

“Good enough for you?”

[theflyingpeaches]

The Office Affair: Litigation

Higuruma x Fem Reader NSFW

MDNI!!! FROM THIS SENTENCE ON YOU ARE ACKNOWLEDGING THAT YOU ARE 18+

Summary: You are being sued, and things are not looking too good! Thankfully you have a great defense attorney like Hiromi Higuruma on your side. He will prove your innocence, though innocent is not a word he would call you. Lines are blurry, and things got complicated once your attorney started to fall for you.

Words: 4,263

Contains: Fingering, squirting, oral sex, sucking tits, making out, office sex, simp!higuruma, pillow talk, eating ass, unprotected sex, creampie, idk man- this shit is filthy.

Law Firm : 6:04am

The sound of high heels clicking could be heard all around the firm. Eyes stared and people gossiped. Every time you came to the office it was like this. You were used to it. In fact, you anticipated it, and those who were really pessimistic would say you kind of liked it. 

Thankfully not everyone was in quite yet. Just a few of the early birds- still, it was enough for you to feel nice and judged.

You wore a tight black one piece swimsuit under a black mini pleated skirt that barely left anything to the imagination. 

Your swimsuit was as close to a bikini as it could possibly get without being disconnected. It barely covered your breasts as it showed so much cleavage and a bit of underboob. It connected to the g-string bottoms that were of course barely covered by your tiny skirt. The slightest breeze would uncover all your goods. 

Everything was all tied together with the fur coat you wore around your shoulders that dragged on the floor as you walked. Hair down, face done up and beautiful.

There was only one destination for you in this building, and that was all the way back into your lawyer's office. 

Your stiletto heel sock boots stopped as you were in front of his office door. You didn’t knock, no. You’d just enter. You knew it would bother him.

"Hello Mr. Higuruma. How are you this morning?" You spoke, setting your purse on the ground next to the chair that faced his desk.

As you took a seat, you noticed the cup of lollipops stocked on his desk and you didn't hesitate to pick one up.

"Good morning ma'am. I'm very well." He kept his head down sifting through the folder in his hand as he greeted you. "I see you're dressed more professionally this morning."

You pulled the wrapper off of your heart shaped lollipop and tossed the trash right on top of his desk with no regard.

"Ooh, I didn't know my lawyer was also a part time comedian." You rolled your eyes, "If you need to meet with me before or after work this is what I'm going to look like. You know this, and yet you keep recommending the same times. Almost like there's an ulterior motive." 

His position remained the same, but his eyes now looked into yours. "That's very funny- and you said I'm the comedian?"

Your cute red lips pouted before putting the lollipop into your mouth. 

"So let me get this straight- you have a cup full of red lollipops from different brands even though I'm pretty sure you said your favorite flavor was blue? Why?"

"It's your favorite flavor, is it not? You always come in here and cherry pick the red. Figured I'd save you some time." Higuruma began to stack his papers together as he prepared your case file. "Besides, I like the taste by proxy."

By proxy. He wasn't even using that word correctly, but he used it how he wanted you to hear it.

"Excuse me?" You frowned. 

"So it seems that this case just got a little interesting. Please keep calm as I tell you this, but the Saito's have another witness."

"What?!" You pulled out the lollipop before you could choke on it. "How is this possible? They are paying people! They have to be!"

"I know. Unfortunately they are very rich and very powerful." He placed the folder to the side and continued to look at you. "You are in good hands though."

"It's bullshit. I'm innocent and here I have eight fucking witnesses standing against me… Just tell me now if I should take the plea." You forcefully exhaled, tossing the lollipop into the trashcan nearby. This information just ruined your appetite.

"Don't even joke like that. It is my job to make sure that justice is served in your favor… I'll do anything to see that through."

He was so serious. He said the word anything which was a very vague but powerful word.

"Maybe I'll have conjugal visits." You smiled.

"Unnecessary." 

"I know for a fact you would come visit me on some conjugal shit if I got locked up." You giggled, "Your dick is hard right now as we speak. You liked the outfit more than you thought, huh?" 

"You're trying to seduce me?" He arched an eyebrow.

"Don't insult me Mr. Higuruma. Don't say try . I definitely got it up as soon as I opened the door." You stood up and let your coat remain on the chair as you did. 

He couldn't stop looking at you. He was so whipped and you knew it. It was cute how he protested though.

“Try.” You scoffed. “Are you saying I don’t turn you on?” You spoke as you slowly walked around his desk.

“I never said that.” His eyes followed you until you were right beside him.

You’d step over his leg and take a firm seat in his lap. You arched your back and leaned forward partially on his desk so that he could see a bit of your ass peeking out from your mini skirt.

“Shit.” The man spoke under his breath as you pressed against his manhood. 

“You offended me Mr. Higuruma.” With your upper half resting on his desk, you’d use one hand to move your hair completely to the side so it was out of your eyes and off your back. 

You looked back at him with your incredibly irresistible eyes and pouty red lips. Unfortunately you were so sexy when you were being manipulative.

His hands gripped your bare waist as he leaned forward to pepper kisses onto your shoulder and up to the nape of your neck. 

His voice lowered as he spoke in your ear, “You know I want you. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t touch me.” You moved your head slightly away from him.

“Let me make it up to you.” His hands ran down from your waist and hips to your thighs. He’d massage and rub them as he stayed close to you. “Let me eat your pussy. I know you like that.”

“No.” You protested, “That can’t always be your get out of jail free card.”

“Let me make you cum right now, and then let me take you out later.” He gave your shoulder a few more kisses, “I’m gonna give you my card, and I want you to buy a nice dress that I can rip off of you after dinner tonight.”

You loved when he got like this. His negotiations were the best because you always got way more out of it than you expected. You were totally fine with him just eating you out.

“That’s so unprofessional Mr. Higuruma.” You licked your lips, “Eating my pussy and taking me out to a romantic dinner? I’m your client.”

“C’mon baby. Get on my desk.”

You sighed, “The Saito’s really have another witness?”

The man stood up, pulling up to your feet with him. You could really feel his hard cock pressed against you now. You came into his office so horny for him this morning, but knowing he’d never fuck you while his colleagues were still here, and here he was getting ready to give you everything you wanted.

“Don’t worry about that right now.” His voice stayed low, “I’m gonna take care of you.” 

His hands turned you around so that you could face him. “You're so sexy, baby. You turn me on so much, okay?” He grabbed your hand and placed it on his cock so you could feel his hardness, “Only you can do that baby. No one else.”

“You sure Hikage down the hall didn’t do this to you?" You teased, running your hand along his length.

His cock was so pretty. You couldn’t wait to see it. It was so thick too, and his length was perfect for you. Long enough for you to feel the maximum pleasure, but not so much that he hurt you.

“Who?” He frowned. 

“Fuck.” Your free hand roughly grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him close to you. “You know exactly how to talk to me don’t you?”

“You like that?” He kissed your jaw, “C’mere baby. Let me help you.”

He grabbed your legs and sat you down on his desk. He'd keep moving your legs up until your feet were on the table as well. He loved when you kept the heels on.

His hands parted your legs as far as they'd go, and you kept your eyes on him as he did. You were so fucking horny for him right now, and you knew he was about to give it to you good.

Your skirt didn't fully cover you, but he'd still flip over the part that did. His hand rubbed against your pussy and upon doing so his fingers felt the dampness of your arousal.

The bottoms of your swimsuit were soaked, and he could see the dark patch from your wetness. Before he had ever even touched you your pussy was slick and ready. 

"You excited?" He smirked looking at you. 

"Shut the fuck up." You looked away from him bashfully. Why did he have to speak on it?!

"Don't be embarrassed. I love how wet you get for me." His head lowered and he planted meaningful kisses on your right thigh trailing inward, "Look at me honey."

His eyes remained sharp on yours as his lips made contact with your clothed pussy.

"No." You protested.

You may have been demanding and dominant with him, but once the intimacy started he'd take it all back. You knew as soon as you locked eyed you were going to buckle under his power, and you'd try to hold out as best you could.

His fingers pulled your underwear to the side and he smiled at the sight. He loved how the material clung so tightly to you as he pulled away. He loved your aroma. He loved the sight of your beautiful pussy.

"Mmm, so sticky for me. I gotta make you squirt now, huh? You want that?"

He didn't wait for your response as he ran his tongue against your folds. The tip of his tongue made contact with your clit for a brief moment and you shuttered. Dammit! He was already getting the best of you.

"So sensitive." He pointed out. "Look at me baby. I want you to watch me please you."

"Stop." You spoke with no conviction whatsoever. You liked when he mentioned everything in the moment, but it still made your cheeks feel so warm.

He'd do it again- flick at your clit with his tongue. His fingers delicately pulled open your lips so that your clit was nice and isolated. So perfect for him to attack.

You whimpered silently with your teeth biting down on your index finger. You knew you'd have to be quiet in here, and you were doing your best. Higuruma wanted you to be quiet as well, but the sadistic part of him wanted you to slip up so bad.

Finally his tongue traveled downward to your cute little inviting hole. He didn't hesitate to slip his tongue in. It was your favorite when he fucked you like this as his gorgeous nose rubbed against your clit.

"Fuck!" You whispered loudly. Your free hand reached for his hair, grabbing a fistful.

"You taste so good." He spoke muffled, "Look at me baby. Look at what you do to me." His hands gripped your thighs, pulling you in closer.

If you were any place else you'd be moaning so loud, but not here. Didn't mean you wouldn't slip one out. As his tongue moved in and out of you, you could feel his eyes burning a hole into you. He wanted you to look at him so bad, but you wouldn't do it. You couldn't give him that.

"Mm mmm." You shook your head. "I won't." You moaned softly.

He wouldn't be taking no for an answer again. You were going to obey him one way or another.

He grabbed your leg and moved it over his head so that your legs were together now. Forcing you on your side, he'd draw a long wet stripe with his tongue from your pussy to your asshole.

"Hiromi! Oh my God!" You fucked up. Not only did you break the silence in a major way, you called him by his first name, and you looked into his eyes… he won.

He'd repeat his actions, but his tongue would remain around your tight hole. You were not prepared for this at all! He'd never done it before, and unfortunately like with everything else he did to you it felt so fucking good.

"Be a good girl and stay quiet okay?" He was patronizing you now.

His tongue circled around your sweet little hole before attempting to force entry. There was no way he was really trying to penetrate your asshole with his tongue was there?!

"Dammit Hiro." You whimpered even more- gently stroking the hairs at the nape of his neck as you kept him close to you.

"Yeah baby? Talk to me. You like my tongue in your ass?" He grinned so sinisterly as he knew what he was doing. He knew that dirty talk would only fluster you more.

"Yeah, I like it." You now caressed his face as you looked at him.

"Like what? Use your words."

You knew he was going to drag this shit out! Why did you ever have to look at him and give him that satisfaction?!

"I like…" You hesitated and bit your bottom lip. Why was he making you say such lewd things? "I like your tongue in my ass."

"I know you do. Are you ready to cum? Let's get you there, okay?" He spoke before penetrating deeper inside of you.

His middle and ring finger slipped right into your pussy. They forced in and out at a blistering pace. His thumb now drew circles into your clit. He was pleasing you in three different ways and it was practically impossible to be quiet at this point.

"Hiro! Ah!" You moaned so loudly someone in the office definitely heard that shit. You placed a hand over your mouth before you yelled out again more muffled this time. "I'm gonna cum! Fuck!"

Your back arched, and he'd not let up on the speed he pleased you at. You were at his mercy and you both knew this.

Your stomach tightened, and you could feel it all getting ready to come to a head. Within a few more seconds you felt yourself becoming high. Your orgasm hit, and your pussy overwhelmed Hiromi with that squirt he loved so much. Your walls tightened, and you felt this fluttering sensation.

His mouth was wide open ready to drink you up. The liquid gushed into his mouth and he'd drink up as much as he could. Of course with how hard you came it was impossible to get all of it.

The man spread your legs once again and lapped up your juices. You were so delicious to him. There was a bit of a mess now but he didn't mind.

He'd sip the bit of your squirt that spilled on the desk before standing up to look at you. He didn't want to miss a single drop. Just nasty for no reason.

"Let me taste." You looked at him with those sickening eyes. 

He'd lean over and press his lips to yours hard. Your essence was all over him. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in close. He was so obsessed with you. Moments like these were why he had to fight for you. You couldn’t do any time. He wouldn’t be able to live without you.

His tongue was so deep in your mouth, and you enjoyed tasting yourself on him. He on the other hand enjoyed that cherry flavored lollipop on your tongue. By proxy as he’d say.

“Fuck- I need you baby.” He growled. 

He’d withdraw his lips from yours and trace them across your jaw and down your neck. Down your collarbone and to your thinly covered tits. His teeth bit your clothed nipple before moving to your underboob. He’d suck the uncovered skin, wanting so badly to mark you.

The red lipstick you put on him was placed right back onto you as he kissed and sucked your skin.

He knew you took your clothes off for a living. Being an erotic dancer, it was not okay for you to have any hickies or bite marks on you, yet here he was wanting to get you in trouble. Well if he was gonna mark you, then you would mark him too!

“Come here!” You grabbed the man by the collar and pulled him up.

You’d plant a kiss on his lips once more before moving to his neck and going in for a deep bite. 

“Shit baby. Yeah, I like that.” He grabbed the back of your head, pulling you closer.

Yeah, name two hornier people at six in the morning. Impossible.

His hands reached for pants as he went to unbutton them. He’d unzip and pull them down until his cock sprang right out.

You kind of loved it. It was so nice looking with its rosy head and thick girth. The man stayed relatively trimmed for the most part. Pained you to say, but you were sure that his cock was made just for you, because the way it felt was like he was sculpted to touch your inner walls in just the right way.

“It’s your turn now, hm?” You looked into his eyes once again and you felt yourself being trapped. It was like once you did that you were forced to listen to his every command.

You grabbed his cock, taking pleasure in the feeling of the thick veins that decorated his pretty length. From the precum leaking out of his tip you could tell that he was on the verge of cumming soon.

Just as you began to scoot off the desk so you could suck him off, he’d stop you. You had to wonder why. Did he not want head? You always sucked the absolute remnants of his soul away when you did, so why didn’t he want it?

“No.” He held your chin in his hand as he forced you to look at him. “If you put it in your mouth I’m gonna cum immediately.”

“That’s kinda the goal.” You frowned.

“I want it in your pussy. I want you to take all of my cum in your pussy. Only for now, okay?”

He was always so embarrassed about how fast you made him cum when you touched him sometimes. He knew the second your lips touched his dick he would explode on you, and while it wouldn't take much to get him back up, time was of the essence here. You had a case to discuss.

He delicately pushed you down to lay flat against his desk. Higuruma grabbed both of your legs and placed one on each shoulder. He couldn’t wait to be inside of you. 

Pumping himself just a couple of times, he’d press the head of his cock past your folds and into your entrance. 

“Yes sir.” You moaned, teeth biting at your bottom lip. “Mmm,  your cock feels so good.”

His hand pulled your thin top up over your left breast and pawed at your soft flesh. His thumb rubbed against your nipple. 

Your eyes began to roll back as all you could hear were the lewd sounds of your skin slapping together. The wetness of your pussy only amplifying the sound.

His dick was slightly curved upwards and it made hitting you g-spot no problem at all. Seemed no matter how many times he fucked you, you were going to remain nice and tight just for him.

"Fuuuck- mmm I love how your pussy grips me so tight. Keep pulling me in baby. Yes." 

His bodyweight pressed down on you so he could get even closer. Yes! Deeper! His lips reconnected with yours and you pulled him by the back of his neck once again.

"Yes sir." You moaned into his mouth still trying to be relatively quiet.

Higuruma pulled away just a little so he could look in your eyes and speaking in between his thrusts, "When this case is over I want you to retire. You come live with me. I'm gonna take care of us."

Your pupils dilated upon hearing the words. Due to the career path you chose there weren't many people who saw you as wife material . But five months of litigation can do things to a guy.

Trial was on the horizon, and you both knew that. During this process Hiromi got to know you from the inside out, and somewhere along the way he liked what he saw. Loved what he saw, rather.

His hand that wasn't occupying your breast reached between you so he could draw circles into your clitoris. Your walls were closing in on him. Your stomach tightened. It wasn't just the way he fucked you. It was his words that would draw out your next high.

He wanted to be more than your lawyer. More than an inappropriate relationship. He wanted a life with you, and you could see that too. 

"Hiromi." You whispered on his lips.

"You ready baby?" He'd kiss you again.

"Give me everything." You nodded on the verge of tears. How dare he say these sweet things to you?!

"Look at me." He demanded as you attempted to look away. His hand grabbing your jaw and fixing you on him. "Cum for me baby. Just one more time."

Honestly he was racing against his own orgasm. He couldn't be too sure that you'd come before he did. One thing about Hiromi though, if that did ever happen, you would still get it out. He could never live with himself knowing that he was the only one who came.

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. You could feel yourself squirting all over the man once again. It was a good thing he moved his papers to the side before all of this. Before Hiromi, you never even knew that you could squirt, but he made you do a lot of things you didn't think were possible.

"Yeah, cum all over me baby." He'd kiss you once more, "Squeeze me just like that."

You looked deep into his eyes as you felt his warm seed spurt into you. It was so much. Ropes of cum that seemed almost endless as it filled you up. You could feel it leaking out of you already, and you knew it would be a big mess once he pulled out.

"Dammit." He sighed, "I wanna go again, but we have to get down to the case. I won't lose you over something stupid."

You nodded, lowering your legs from his shoulders and wrapping your arms around him

He'd pull out of you, and before too much of his seed could spill out, he'd move your swimsuit bottoms back over your well served cunt.

"Keep that there, alright baby?" He smiled before kissing you.

"You're playing with fire Hiro. I told you I'm not on the pill."

"I know what you told me." He pulled you right-side up as he lifted as well. "Maybe I just want you all to myself."

"Forcing me into retirement by pregnancy?" You rose an eyebrow, "Bold of you."

You'd move out of his grasp and smooth your skirt down so it was flat again and barely covering you once more. As you stood your legs felt wobbly, and you could feel a thin line of cum running down your leg.

As runny as it was you didn't know if it was yours or his. His cum was usually so thick. Perhaps it was a mixture. Either way you'd walk back around his desk so you could grab some wipes from your purse. Both makeup and baby wipes were needed in this case.

You bent down to grab your purse, and as you did you felt a hand on your thigh. Looking back you saw Higuruma on one knee. He'd lean into the back of your right thigh and trace the cum all the way up with his tongue. This was one of the nastiest men you ever met. Or perhaps he was just nasty for you.

His tongue stopped once he reached your clothed pussy where he'd give it a kiss. You felt his nose pressed against your ass and it gave you butterflies. You really didn't utilize that pretty nose enough.

You pulled a makeup wipe from its casing and tossed it playfully onto the man's face, "Clean yourself up, whore. We have business." You giggled.

He pulled the wipe from his face and stood up once again. He'd give you a kiss before wiping all your red lipstick off of himself.

"Alright, let's be serious now. The Saito's have a new witness, and here's why that doesn't matter. Listen carefully, okay?"

Just like that he was back in lawyer mode. You had to wonder what your life would be like if you never met him. 

Would you survive this case? Were the Saito's really paying people off? How much time were you facing? Now was the time to strap in. You had a case to win!

[hyuuukais]

⋆.˚𖦹°‧✮‧°𖦹˚.⋆ ERROR 404

pairing ~ yang jeongin x fem reader

synopsis ~ y/n starts getting messages from an unknown number after buying a used phone for cheap. as she finds out more about the boy she's talking to, it turns out there's much more to this than a wrong number --- he died, and she's talking to his spirit, yet he has no idea what happened to him. will y/n have what it takes to solve the mystery of his death? or will the boy's spirit remained trapped in his phone?

warnings ~ gen, mention of torture

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CH 7 ~ WHAT HAPPENED TO HAN JISUNG? (wc: 3.1k)

Arriving at the apartment building doesn't take long once you retrieve your car from the flower shop, looking up at the desolate building with unease as you step out of the vehicle. There isn't much to say about the bleak apartments, nearly empty and sure to be closed down in the near future by the looks of it. No one is in the lobby as you walk in and buzz for Minho.

"Password?" You hear him say through the speaker.

"Do we really have to do that? You know it's me," You groan, but he stays silent. "Cheeks."

Cheeks, an odd word to choose for a password, but it's Minho, so you try not to question it too much. He lets you in, and you opt to take the stairs given that one elevator is out of service and the other's doors are slightly cracked open despite not being in use. It's a long trudge up the stairs, all the way to level fourteen, but you make it up nonetheless, panting and taking a moment to catch your breath before knocking on the door. Minho is quick to open it and drag you inside.

The apartment is empty, save for a plain wooden table with two chairs on either side of the circular shape. Takeout bags sit on the kitchen counter, some food already out to be served on paper plates. Minho gestures for you to sit down as he opens the rest and piles food onto the plates, setting one down in front of you and the other on his side of the table, walking back to pour some water.

"This is one of the apartments Jisung and I used while we were undercover." You take note of how he openly says Jisung this time, not 'Detective Han'. "We had our own so as to not raise suspicion, but used this one to connect and discuss our findings in the investigation on the killings going on. The last night here, we were sure we had enough evidence to send out and blow their cover, but then Jisung went missing, and everything went to shit."

As Minho talks, something to your right catches your eye and your hand stops midair, food halfway to your mouth as it hangs open. You can see a slightly younger Minho pacing around, the previously empty apartment decorated in more takeout containers and a large bulletin board, red string and photos covering the majority of it. Minho has his hands in his hair as he rambles and paces, another man standing at the board biting his thumb, trying to focus both on Minho's words and the images in front of him. He has mousy brown hair, long bangs covering part of his face, and is around the same height as Minho.

Eventually, younger Minho stops pacing, standing next to Jisung with furrowed eyebrows and an expression of disbelief. You can't hear what they're saying, only able to hear present-day Minho explaining the situation they were in; how Han had offered to go alone to secure one last piece of information that would really tie everything together, even if it was risky. Minho tried to stop him, and you see him place a hand on Han's shoulder, turning his body toward Minho. After what looks like a short argument, Han places his hands on Minho's shoulders and says something, Minho looking down at his feet.

"He said he'd be okay," Minho talks, voice low, and you finally tear your eyes away from the scene to look at him, food long forgotten by both of you. "He didn't return that night like he said he would, or the next day, or the one after that. Our boss had me wait a whole week until he allowed me to investigate, but I couldn't wait that long. After the third day, I went back and found the place completely empty, except for two men with orders to kill me on sight. Luckily, they were stupid and taunted me first, wasting time."

Before younger Minho and Jisung disappear, you sense a third presence behind the door and spot the light changing underneath, as if someone had just stepped in front of it from the outside. They're obviously eavesdropping, but with the way the two men in the apartment are facing, it goes unnoticed. Your own eyebrows mimic younger Minho's as they furrow deeply, biting your lip in thought as you turn to face him present day.

"Did you know you were followed?" The look on Minho's face answers for you, the way he slowly places his utensils down. "As you were explaining, I could see it playing out, but there was someone else at the door listening in."

"Figures," Minho scoffs, voice rough and lips pursed as he turns away from you with crossed arms.

"What did you do to the men who took him?" You ask cautiously, leaning forward. Both of your food has been forgotten, growing cold as the silence stretches on between you. "Minho, what did you do?"

"Bad things," Minho murmurs, shaking his head and looking down where his feet are firmly planted on the carpeted floor. "Things I'm not proud of, but would do again if it meant finding Jisung. Only one man left that building that day, and you're looking at him."

You nod in understanding, leaning back in your chair with a slight sick feeling. Although you knew what kind of work Minho did, hearing the confirmation that he has, in fact, killed someone makes your hair stand up.

As it's getting late, you both decide to call it a night and investigate the storefront in the morning. In all honesty, you don't know what to expect, or what you'll get out of this. There's no way the spirits of those men will want to help, and what do they get in return? It's not like you can bring them back... can you? You shiver at the thought; even if you could, those aren't the type of people you'd want to use that kind of special power on.

Minho takes the couch, not leaving room for argument as he lies down with his boots now untied by the end. You enter the bedroom, taking in the bare walls and lack of life. It's stale, uncomfortable, but it'll do for just one night.

-

The storefront looks like it hasn't been touched in years, and you suppose it really hasn't been since the investigation into Jisung's disappearance. Minho approaches first and jiggles the doorknob, which is obviously locked. There's a big 'For Lease' sign sitting in the window collecting dust, the lettering a faded blue. It's hard to see inside, the thick layer of dirt and grime on the glass windows obscuring your view when you try and look. Wiping it does nothing, most of the grit on the inside, but you do manage to spot a few upturned chairs near the front.

Rounding the building and walking down the alleyway, Minho brings you to a door at the side. When it doesn't open, he gestures for you to stand back. He swiftly kicks the wood, and it doesn't stand a chance, almost immediately splintering off the hinges. As if it's nothing, Minho walks into the building, not waiting for your shock to wear off.

Just as you suspected, the inside is covered in dust, and you have to try hard not to sneeze as the particles tickle your nose and make it itch. You've entered right at the back of the store, making your way into the very back. The layout kind of reminds you of the flower shop. Minho makes a beeline to the back corner of the small room you've entered and you spot a groove in the floor.

"Trap door?" You ask, although it's obvious.

Minho doesn't reply. Instead, he runs his hands over the uneven ground until he finds a spot to dig his finger underneath and pull it up, revealing a cement staircase. A chill runs down your spine, and you swear you could hear crying right as he opened it up. Hesitantly, you take a step forward, letting Minho lead the way. Even he's cautious as he walks down, and you don't have to ask to know why. This place must bring back bad memories, ones you'd never want to recall. Jisung must have been special.

The basement air is cold and damp as you descend, unwelcoming in every sense of the word. A headache is already forming on your temples from what you suspect is from the sheer amount of lost souls trapped here, forever unable to find peace. It hurts that you can't help them all; you're here for a different purpose. Not many of the spirits show their faces to you, but some linger around the dark, brick walls. There's a single light hanging from the ceiling casting a dim yellow glow, a dilapidated chair directly underneath. A shiver goes down your spine.

"Lee Minho." You hear a voice scoff, head whipping toward the noise. There's a gruff, muscular man leaning against the wall by the stairs, shaking his head. "Never thought I'd see you here again."

Minho doesn't reply, oblivious to the man trying to communicate. This irks the man clearly, his face scrunching up in frustration as Minho appears to ignore him. Kicking off the wall, he goes to approach Minho, but sees you looking at him and stops.

"What's his problem?" The man nods to Minho.

"He can't see or hear you." At your voice, Minho turns, his eyes flickering between you and where you're standing. "Only I can."

"They're here?" Minho hurries over to you, glaring at the spot you're eyes are.

"Just one... he has a tattoo of a lotus flower on his forearm if that helps." You state, nodding at he man.

"He was the last one." Minho says, disdain in his voice.

In this position, you know there isn't much you can do. How are you supposed to force information out of a potentially violent spirit? You can't kill him twice...

Or, wait...

Jeongin, you think, closing your eyes and focusing your energy on him. You can almost feel the connection between you, a bright line reaching out to him. Jeongin, help me.

It's only a matter of seconds until you feel a soft breeze move strands of your hair into your face, and you open your eyes to see Jeongin. He's looking down at you with a soft expression, relieved to see you're okay. When he looks to the man, his eyes narrow.

"Who are you?" The man suddenly looks uneasy, crossing his arms, but Jeongin just shakes his head.

"Not important. Now, you're going to tell us where Han Jisung is," Jeongin demands.

The man barks out a laugh. "Like hell I'm gonna do that."

"I have an idea." You whisper to Jeongin, turning your body so the man can't hear you as well. "Use my energy to force the answers out of hi-"

"Are you kidding me? No way!" Jeongin's eyes widen, unable to believe you're seriously suggesting that. "Do you understand what that could do to you?"

"Yes, and I'm willing to take the risk! Otherwise, I wouldn't be asking you." You cross your arms now, holding your ground. "Just do it. Please."

Jeongin searches your eyes, seeing the certainty in them, and sighs. He takes a hold of your hand, closing his eyes to focus on your connection, similar to what you did earlier. After a moment, he opens them again, and the man is giving you both an amused look. Before he can speak, his mouth open to say something, he's flying backward into the chair. The man's eyes are big with shock, chains wrapping his wrists and legs in place, an additional one forming around his chest. You don't know what's going on, only that you feel dizzy.

"Tell us where he is." Jeongin steps closer, and you do too on instinct. Each step toward the center of the room feels like you're walking through quicksand; your head is pounding with each sluggish movement. "Now."

Chains rustle, and your vision swims as they seem to tighten around the man. How Jeongin is doing this is beyond you, but the scare tactic seems to be working.

"Warehouse on Twilight! He's- we brought him there after finding out who he was!" The man's voice is high with panic, still fighting against the confines of the chair. "Now let me go!"

With a thud, the chair returns back to it's ruined state, and the spirit of the man is released. Jeongin lets go of your arm the same moment, and the only thing keeping you from hitting the floor are Minhos arms as he catches you. Before you think you'll pass out, you relay the information to Minho.

Keeping an arm around you, the two of you hurry back out to Minho's car. Jeongin is long gone, and a part of you feels guilty for making him use you like that. The last thing Jeongin wants to do is take your energy, and you practically forced him to.

"Stop thinking like that," Minho says sharply, leaning back as he exits the parking lot. "I can see it in your face. It's not your fault, and you did what was necessary."

"It doesn't feel right-"

"It never does." Minho sighs. "It never does."

After that, it doesn't take long for the two of you to get to the warehouse as Minho is practically speeding the whole way, even with it being across the city. Like the storefront, it's old and abandoned. The gate is broken, allowing easy access inside, and there's a door hanging off the hinges; someone has clearly broken in recently, probably to stay the night.

Dust assaults your senses once again as you enter the building. The inside is completely empty, high ceilings with small windows to allow light. On the other end is a door with a metal staircase leading up to it, and you assume it used to go to an office or breakroom. Minho curses at the space, running a hand through his hair as he walks further in. You can't imagine how disappointed he must be, knowing this doesn't help him at all in finding Jisung.

"Dammit..." Minho turns, exhaustion and defeat seeping into his features. "Let's just go. This place offers nothing."

You're about to agree, but look back into the dim room once more. Something by the stairs catches your eye.

"Minho, wait."

Walking closer, you make out the shape of a person descending the steps, and you immediately recognize him as the man you're looking for. Han Jisung stands at the bottom of he staircase, looking out to you with a sad look on his face, and your heart sinks. Minho steps beside you, shrugging.

"What?" He looks between you and the stairs, squinting. "There's nothing, let's go. We've wasted enough time."

As he goes to walk away, you grab his wrist, making him jolt back a bit. You let go with an apologetic expression, retracting your hand back to your body. Minho looks briefly offended, but then sees the mixed emotions on your face.

"He's here..." You say quietly, glancing back to the stairs. "I think he has something to say to you."

"No." Minho's voice comes out as a small gasp, and he shakes his head. "No, Y/n, no. That means- he can't be-"

"I'm sorry," You whisper, gently placing a hand on his arm. "I can help you communicate."

Minho looks away, bringing a hand to his mouth as he tries to collect himself. A few moments later, he nods. You both head to the stairs where Jisung has been waiting patiently.

There's not a single scratch on him, no sign of hurt at all, and it's strange. His hair is well groomed, and his clothes aren't wrinkled. Jisung can't keep his eyes off Minho as you approach, and you'd swear he's alive if it weren't for the way his hands don't quite touch the railing. He descends slowly until he's eye level with Minho, but Minho's eyes are still stuck on the stairs.

"He's right in front of you," You whisper, as though talking too loud will shatter the fragility in the air.

"Jisung?" Minho's eyes flicker down, and you see Jisung inhale as their eyes meet. There's a small, sad smile on his face.

"Can you hear me?" Jisung looks at you for a brief moment, then back to Minho, his smile faltering; you nod. "Tell him I'm okay, please."

"He says he's okay." You repeat, voice wavering.

"They did bad things to me here," Jisungs voice steels. "Tortured me for information, but I didn't tell them anything. It was too much in the end."

Hearing his story has your heart breaking for him, your eyes watering despite not knowing the man in front of you. Jisung looks down at his feet as you tell Minho what he's said.

Jisung's eyes find Minho again, his voice quieter now. "I tried to look after you. I'm sorry for what happened."

There's movement, his hand reaching to grasp Minho's. You hear Minho suck in a breath and look up to see his wide, blinking eyes staring back at Jisung, almost like-

"I can see you." Minho says bluntly, and Jisung laughs lightly, the sound echoing in the emptiness of the warehouse. "Why can I see you now?"

"Obviously, I missed you so much I brought you to the afterlife with one touch." Jisung teases, giving you a warm glimpse into their dynamic as Minho scoffs. Then, Jisung's smile begins to fade. "I think... I think the universe knows what time it is."

"What do you mean?" Minho says, although you know he knows by the expression on his face, the way he can't stop blinking.

"You know what I mean," Jisung says softly, giving his hand a squeeze. "You found me. You got closure."

"I can't-" Minho shakes his head. "Jisung, don't-"

"Shh," Jisung brings his free hand up to rest on Minhos shoulder. "We'll see each other again, hopefully not for a long time. I've seen the way you've been these past few years, the downward spiral you've been slowly going down. I want you to live, Min, I want you to fall in love with life again. I need you to."

Minho's throat bobs, then he's pulling Jisung into a hug. They stay like that for a few minutes, and you look away, feeling the moment is too private for you to be witnessing. Some words are whispered, ones you don't catch, then there's a sniffle and someone clearing their throat.

"Let's go." Minho is already turned around by the time your eyes find him again, already walking toward the exit. When you look toward the staircase, there's nothing but the lingering scent of something sweet.

-

notes ~ i am SO SO sorry it's taken so long for a new chapter to come out 😭 i hope you guys still like it 😥 if you're on the taglist and have changed ur user, pls lmk so i can update it!!

taglist ~ @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @bloomingstay @sona1800 @dollschan @defnotfertilizedtoesw @thisisnotjacinta @kayleigh-28 @kayleefriedchicken @lailac13 @linocvp1d @ilov3jeong1n @mooseung @kkamismom12 @sillyhal @rensahazard

green means i can't tag you

[terrence-silver]

Hey could i make a request please. Terry X fem reader, her former abuser comes back into her life to torment her all over again and Terry buts them in their place and destroys them physically, mentally, financially and when it's all over they'll thank him.

Jerry and Terry.

A story of disproportionate revenge; Terry Silver x Fem!Reader in the background (with an appearance from John Kreese).

---

Jerry is a man with a common office job and the accidental assonance of their names never fails to amuse Terry.

Infuriate him some.

Jerry and Terry.

Well, Jeremy, in actuality, just another information in the long mosaic line up covering everything he discovered about this schmuck, as much personally as through his sources, not that it was tremendously difficult seeing as how none of these common civilians were ever too much of a mystery anyway, granting him immense satisfaction in the hunt nonetheless — but the punk’s name might as well be worm or cockroach, because that’s in effect what he was, leaning over Colorado Street, in Pasadena, a two hour drive from LA, the July summer air after midnight still hot, the asphalt seeming to let off steams of a searing, stifling sensation, the cool breeze blown in from the Arroyo barely reaching the isolated steel ledge secluded from the buzz of the traffic; the city long since planned to put to preventive nets over the bridge — Terry should know because he personally funded the project with a generous donation and it was hilarious how life had a weird way of falling into place and connecting in the most bizarre ways on a bridge of occasional suicides where your ex was standing, hands in pockets, staring down into the dark depths of the river below, no such net in sight just yet except for a couple of signs issuing a warming that it was dangerous to lean over the railings, nothing separating him from the flowing abyss below. Him and the Mayor shook hands on the business venture two years ago. The news even reported on it with all the adulation in the world. Terry’s picture was in the paper. He was all over the news — long enough to distract from all his other ventures. But, it was one of those urban landscaping deals that would dawn on the news and then take years, perhaps decades, to be actually realized. Meant that Jerry could jump — and there would be nothing to save him from doing so. No cameras installed for security measures just yet either. Maintenance. Terry knew, because this was Terry’s city.

Terry’s country and State.

Nobody in sight right at this moment.

Merely a narrow concrete path along the bridge for pedestrians.

Terry, the stranger, snug in his leather jacket, not minding the heat, pretending to be an innocent bypasser.

Truth of the matter was, he ruined this man’s life and he developed the progression of the slow decay all along the way with great interest and like a cat eagerly eying a moving red string, Terry’s effortlessly led him here, deliberately, right to this very place, this very spot, on this very night, on this very bridge and the guy never even realized he had no say in any of it or that none of it was an accident. Jeremy got let off of work. Accused of embezzlement. Embroidered in schemes. In debt. Reputation ruined. Social circle gone. All that jazz. All the classics. And Terry did it all. Weaved it all. And it culminated in this. Do a flip, he thought to himself, approaching the man under the headlights, leisurely, acting like someone who accidentally stumbled upon a scene he wasn’t supposed to stumble upon, en route to somewhere else, haunting the city, stopping in his tracks, behind a steel pillar, watching Jerry climb over the ledge; He could say something now. It would've been expected. A hastily thrown in 'Hey, you there! Stop!' or 'Hey, you! Don't do it! Lets talk, man! Life can be good, actually. It can be good when you're not crossing Terry Silver, that is.' Something faux-poignant. Something mean. Something mocking. Something distracting or even infuriating to bait the man into arguing rather than hurting himself. Anything, so long as it distracts and causes the man to hesitate and think twice, but it’s only once Jerry’s heel is slipping over the edge of the pipe he was perched up on does Terry act, allowing himself to smile from where he's standing, seamlessly, feeling his mouth twitch upward, watching the shadow disappear over the railing into the darkness of the night. The next day, there's a suicide report briefly on the news and you never even catch it in the whirlwind of all the other crime circulating in the media. Your asshole ex, identified by his wallet and the documentation found in his soaked interior pocket, fished out by the loading docks. Just another statistic.

-"So, what he’d do?"-

John asked him on one occasion when Terry told him of his plans.

-"Nothing much."- Terry slings his arm over his driver seat leisurely, chuckling. He didn't treat you as well as you deserved? Tried to occasional get in contact with you again and stay on, quote-unquote 'good terms'. What did that even mean? Good terms? Wasn't that enough to warrant execution? Terry thought it was. It was a crappy, mediocre relationship and nobody had to put their hands on you for Terry to be convinced that deserved payback. Not to mention --- the said entanglement wasted your time. Time that would've been better spent with him if you weren't busy wasting it with some Jerry. Revenge. Reason for revenge, right there. They were parked near Griffith Observatory, in the embrace of a forested path, all zig-zags and steep rocks, the skyline of the city visible from a nearby slope, offering them both a view and sufficient privacy to talk. -"I just want him to die."- Terry confess bluntly, nearly cackling as the words rolled off of his tongue, sensing something exciting coil around in his gut like so many butterflies, seeing no reason to hide these things from his Captain after everything they've been through together and John gives him a lopsided, paternal smile, halfway critical, halfway entertained, like he was about to throw in the talk.

-"Terry…"-

He clicks his tongue, shaking his head and Terry instantly protests.

Show mercy!? Why!? Since when were they the mercy-showing types!?

-"What? What!?"-

He finds himself whining slamming the palm of his hand against the backrest of the leather seats, feeling his own face furrow up. -"C’mon, Johnny!"- He sighs profoundly, rolling his eyes, annoyed and exasperated. This was some prime-time bullshit. -"Don’t you dare tell me that you never wanted anyone someone you loved loved before you to just, you know…"- He starts, trailing off, digging his teeth into his lower lip. Savoring the moment. -"Drop dead?"- He says it then, and it tastes so sweet, like caramel coated candy dipped in white powder. Terry knew all about Johnny nearly beating his beloveds Betsy's then-beau halfway to death on the parking lot of the Deli he worked in before the army. They were exactly the same, him and John Kreese. A Cobra doesn't tolerate competition. It's not in it's nature to. John says nothing. Almost as if contemplating that memory himself, looking off into the distance, pulling up the collar of his brown vest jacket on the passenger seat beside him, his face crinkling into a grim smile, not saying yes but not saying no either. Terry has the odd impulse to kick his feet up in the air in a flash of euphoria. -"We could always rough him up. Scare him. Hurt him, make him piss his pants and call it a day. I'm available for that."- John murmurs, the deep rumbling sound emanating from his throat recognized only as a suppressed chuckle. Terry grabs John by the shoulder and shakes him in excitement, halfway hugging him in joy. While kicking that Creature to a pulp did sound exciting it wasn't part of the plan. -"My man! Now we're talking! But, that would only martyr him!"- Terry lifts up his hands, engrossed in his own imagination. He felt more comfortable and content if this guy was just wiped out of existence altogether. Like, hit by a moving bus, perhaps. A guy that put his dick inside of you before being alive and well out there? Yeah. Unacceptable. -"No."- Terry says with a sense of looming doom. -"This is so final. There’s no coming back from it. And what’s best?"- He pauses slightly for dramatic timing, presenting the whole picture to John the way a storyteller would describe the synopsis of his newest magnum opus.

-"I’ll ensure he’ll do to himself."-

Six months into this special project and Terry never once put his hands on Jeremy. Could've. Itched to. But, he didn't. If Jerry deteriorated, it's because he ruined himself. With every drink, every cigarette and every sleepless, stressful night in tow. All Terry did was set events in motion and brought about the right environments for someone to start feeling profoundly unhappy.

-"I've put him through enough pain and now it's time to go to sleep."-

There can be only one, he almost halfway desires to add but he withholds at the last moment once he spots a shift on John's face --- that he didn't need any more convincing. Maybe it was an old habit --- an army habit --- but whenever Terry seriously wanted to end someone, he always came to Johnny first. To discuss the matter. Strategize. Get his greenlight from his Captain to go out into the field and terminate with extreme prejudice. That's how the hierarchy worked. Terry would do whatever he wanted anyway irregardless of John but he supposed he wanted to let him know. For old times sake. Reason why he invited him to meet here today. That and to gloat. -"Alright, Terry. If you say so."- John smiles that gruff smile of his, finally capitulating and Terry finally allows himself to breathe again after what seemed like an eternity of anticipation, letting himself be as jubilant as he wanted, turning the key in the ignition along with the steering wheel almost immediately, ready to get a move on, wasting not a second longer. There was a five star restaurant just down the road with their name on it. -"Of course I say so, Johnny! What I say is best!"- He exclaims, one hand on the wheel and another on the back of his John's neck, patting him triumphantly. Enough talk. Time to crack open the bottles before the big bang. You knew he was out with his oldest friend. You merely didn't know the context, is all. -"Reservations at five. Lets go grab that chow and celebrate!"- Terry practically shouts in euphoria, throwing a joyous glance at John, making a sharp U-turn. -"Ever ate a turkey stuffed with a chicken that's stuffed with a quail!?"- He snickers, knowing for a fact that Johnny would probably need everything in him not to roll his eyes at the option of orders, but regardless, he lived for treating his Captain to the finer things, just like he lived for removing each and every person from your past until nobody but him remains. Him, representing the future. -"I'd prefer plain good old bacon and some beer."- John mutters with a small, fox-like grin just like Terry knew he would, taking a relish in poking and prodding at him anyway. His Captain's wish is his command. They'd have so much to toast for today.

-"Done, baby!"-

Is all Terry says, laughing as he speeds away, down the woodland highway.

---

When you discover the news because he effectively tells you, deciding to control when and how the information reaches and that it might as well reach you from his own mouth, naturally, as expected, your mood turns gloomy. For days. Weeks. More time wasted and he despised it, deciding to immediately take you on a cruise of the Bahamas to distract you from it, but deciding tactically that you just had to ride it out. And you did. Week two on the deck of his yacht, eventually, slumped, looking out to the ocean, knees against your chest sitting on deck, you decide to speak. -"Terry, this will be such a weird thing to say."- You stutter, unsure of yourself and yet he's there, tracking your every movement and expression like a sonar radar. -"Maybe even meanspirited."- Will it now? Good. You were about to get whatever useless thing was still lodged in your system out of yourself. He's by your side, sitting beside you, looking at you intently, not wanting to miss a thing. -"But, I'm oddly glad I got out on time. That I met you."- You confess, holding back tears. Wasn't easy discovering that your ex was practically six figures in debt and wanted on several charges and that if you stayed with him, it would've reflected on you as well. Dragged you down with him. To the bottom of river Arroyo. That's what your pretty little head thought and Terry coos, massaging the edge of your scalp in gentle motions with his fingers, letting that beautiful brain below think whatever he wanted it to think. Oh, he loved you so. You were made for the greenest of pastures. For him. -"He would've destroyed his life as well as my own and I'm relieved the universe moved me out of the way when it did. That it brought me you. Thank you."- Ah. There it was. There were tears in your eyes flowing freely and you were thanking him, never even realizing you were unknowingly expressing gratitude that he effectively crapped all over your ex's life and led him to suicide. Stood by and watched while he did a triple Salto off of a bridge. The blood and the heat shoots down into his cock. How could it not? In any other situation he would've dragged Jerry's waterlogged swollen carcass fished out of the river at your feet and present it to you like a cat presents its owner a dead mouse. -"He was never bad towards me, exactly. But, he was never fully good either, you know? But, definitely not bad enough to deserve this."- Oh, Terry knew alright. It is just that he considered that your ex not being fully good towards you was a capital offense that found it's equivalent payback only in death. So, yeah. Punk deserved it.

Had it long time coming.

-"Is that fucked up and evil of me? To feel relieved I left on time? I feel so awful it's crazy! A man died!"-

A weak, nuisance man died, Terry wants to correct, but instead he settles into the act of collecting your tears with the tip of his fingers, letting none of them escape, feigning outrage, yet partially feeling said emotion in it's most genuine capacity; Jeremy died! Fuck sake, who cares! This guilt would evaporate and you'd find it fading overtime, because he'd be here to ensure it fades; there was almost nothing meaningfully positive for you to vindicate or romanticize and far too much crappy and mediocre to actually mourn or remember fondly. That was the good thing about measly, middle-of-the-road, middling, lukewarm individuals; too grey to be turned into saints and too grey to be turned into devils. The only thing one could do with them, whether one wanted to or not is to forget them. Where he could easily replace them and everyone else you ever trifled with, usurping their very vacancy and every emotion sent their way, be it good or bad. All of it. Only his. -"Fucked up!? Huh!? No way! It's not! Are you even listening to yourself!?"- He shakes his head vigorously, letting his disapproval grow visible, pulling you close, until the side of your body melts with his and you're effectively there, drying up your tears in his embrace, the open sea breeze against you. Terry grabs your face with both hands, making you look at him. -"You wanted a normal, stable life! Of course you did! Who wouldn't!?"- Terry explains, separating his gaze from you for but a second to point the tip of his nose out towards the blue expanse of the sunlit Atlantic.

[dcangel]

SISTER— S.S.

For about a year, Stiles had a sister. He still does, but only the bond remains.

cw; angst, depression, survivor's guilt, no smut, new girl!reader, reader has a crush on stiles. (lowk a yap sesh) 1.9k words

A boy smiled at you from across the room. You’d seen him in your history and chemistry class, which was ironic since you didn’t have any of that with him or his odd friends. He and another boy took turns following each other around like lost puppies— not in the romantic sense. You learned the first boy’s name to be "Stiles" due to the overwhelming warnings and threats from irritated teachers constantly scolding the boy. It was worse when he was with his friends, specifically the boy named Scott.

Scott, you noticed, seemed to have a look of longing hidden behind deep brown irises. His smile never picked up unless others prompted it, and he’d stare off at this tiny ripped piece of paper he would later stow away in his wallet.

Months faded behind your eyes, memories were made, and tears even fell, but you never asked why Scott sometimes looked at his girlfriend, Kira, like he wished her to be someone else or why Stiles sometimes couldn't look at Scott. Those two occurrences were always connected. When heartache would fill Scott's eyes, guilt would flood into Stiles's— but both boys shared grief.

Stiles would endlessly pace around his room, hand on his jaw and white pencil between his fingers. Messy scribbles and smudged lines cluttered his crime/suspect board. Just like his father, stiles was, anyone could see that. A huff here, a frustrated sigh there— his fingers would snap, and he'd swear he figured it out this time, but the lines never met their dots. Stiles told you about a time months ago when walls in his room were covered with pictures and clippings of articles, each connected by different colored strings. Lydia would argue that he only used red, which you later found stood for 'unsolved.'

Lydia was almost the same as the boys— green eyes drifting from her schoolwork and around the room frantically. 'I hear voices,' she would tell you, 'Voices from the past.' Of course, your first thought was that she's insane. What sane person hears whispering voices? Although when you were told the history of your friends and Beacon Hills, you toyed with the notion each of them was a little insane— but rightfully so.

As your friends took turns explaining their own supernatural abilities over school lunch, you turned to the last boy, which you were quite fond of. Stiles. His jaw flapped like a fish's, his chocolate eyes scattering around. He looked to Scott, and at first, you assumed it was Stiles's supernatural instinct to look at his Alpha friend, but when he started to speak, the words didn't stop. He threw out words that didn't go together in an attempt to tell you that he was not, in fact, supernatural like those surrounding you.

'I was, uh... I- How do I-?' He abruptly shut his mouth, his lips pressed to a thin line, not that you were looking at how they moved even when he struggled to push words passed them. He did manage to force a hefty sigh through his nose, though. 'It was an accident- Well, I mean, obviously — Not that you would know —' He shook his head before continuing, but you took note of how the boy couldn't finish a thought without another one barging in. 'I was... possessed by this spirit — evil spirit — who just, uh, well, it brought, y'know... chaos, strife, and pain upon us all, and...' You caught his eyes glance over to Scott, whose gaze was glued to the table. 'Yeah. Yeah, that's it. A lot of people got hurt. Seriously hurt.'

'Some died.' That voice came from Lydia, her face matching Scott's. You had no reason to question if someone close to the group was killed, you didn't know any better. Everything was new to you. Some days, you regretted not asking 'who?'

A man simply called 'Argent' had been inadvertently introduced to you via Stiles and Scott, pondering if he was needed in a new turn of events. 'Something is always going on in this town,' They explained. 'He was a hunter, but he helps us now.' And in your mind, with how little knowledge you held of this new world, you didn't question how they came to know this man.

Your first time meeting him was spontaneous. Stiles had driven you guys to meet Scott at the man's apartment. When the elevator opened and the door creaked with age, boxes caught your eye first, then Argent. His hair was greying, eyes shining with firmness but glossed over with a sense of loss. You've learned it's a look he permanently wears. You were just tagging along, really, following close behind Stiles because you were in a stranger's house, and the boy was your anchor. You weren't equipped with special abilities or senses like your friends, but he kept you tethered to your sanity. You two were the only ones of your friends to be perfectly ordinary humans, and that came with a bond you hoped he thought was special.

You let your eyes wander like they were off-leash animals. Not rabid ones, just curious ones. You often didn't allow yourself to peek around in fear of what you might find. This isn't your world; don't get more involved than you need to. Today, you decided this man was safe. A picture frame sat on Argent's desk the four of you were huddled around. Scott was busy pleading for one last mission before the man moved away for good. Argent was comfortably settled in his position of involvement: none. You could've fully honed in on their conversation and the threats this town faced without someone to stop them, but you were more attuned to the three smiling faces behind the broken glass of a picture frame. Argent, and two women. One had red, short, spiky hair, while the other wore her long, dark brown curls loose with a purple headband. The brunette had deep dimples, long lashes that made you a little jealous, and a brightness you could feel through the glass. She certainly lit up any room she walked in.

You studied what you assumed to be Argent's family, and you wondered why you hadn't seen the brunette around school. She looked young enough to be a high school student, but maybe it was just good genetics.

An elbow in your side broke you free of those thoughts, your curiosities leaving your mind until you're reminded of them days or weeks later. Stiles told you they're ready to head out, and you look to the older man, offering a smile as thanks for his time. He nods at you three, and you leave without a second thought of the two women.

Later in the week, you find yourself at Stiles's house for the sixth time in four days. He's pacing, muttering to himself. You're flat on your back on his bed with your knees up, shoes long disregarded by the front door, picking at your nails. Stiles was always the first one you went to whenever you'd get a fresh set or have them painted. You probably should be going to Lydia since she changes nails like she changes outfits— which most likely costs more than you have in your bank account— but you wished Stiles would react the same way. Sometimes, if the designs were intricate enough, Stiles would grab your hand and bring your fingers closer to his face so he could truly appreciate the amount of detail and dedication. He even paid for your nails once.

A folded scrap of newspaper pinned to his old bulletin board pulled you from your reminiscence. Your stomach softly collided with his jersey sheets when you rolled over to get a proper look— as best you could for the distance, at least. There was no use trying to read the finely printed words distorted by shadows and creases of the old paper, but it was more so the corner of a photograph peeking out behind it that drew you in. You shifted further toward the end of his bed, your neck bending at all sorts of angles in a better attempt at seeing the full photo. Eventually, you huffed in defeat and stood up, Stiles barely showed signs of acknowledgment. A few silent shuffles later, you reached out and touched the bent newspaper, peeling it back to reveal a thumbtack with a red string tied to the handle stuck in the corner of a picture. A picture of the same brown-haired girl you'd completely forgotten about at Argent's house.

You flipped back to the news scrap and skimmed over the text, but it had no relevance to the girl, only mentioning a warrant for an arrest which you immediately recognized as the arsonist, Kate. You recalled briefly hearing her name being mentioned when you went to Argent's house and how she was his sister. You've seen pictures of her online, and this girl wasn't her, she couldn't have been. She looked sweet, her eyes full of life and warmth, something a murderer like Kate couldn't even dream of possessing.

Your first thought was that maybe this girl was Stiles's sister, but that couldn't have made sense because there was also a photo of the girl and a red-haired woman at Argent's house, and there's the fact that her photo is one of the few that remain on Stiles's wrecked corkboard. Unless she was adopted? Maybe the sheriff decided it was too much to take care of two children alone after his wife passed. Argent and the sheriff already seemed to have history, so it was entirely possible except you knew the sheriff would never even think of such a thing.

"I didn't know you have a sister." You felt the words spilling before you even had a chance to rethink your deduction.

The pacing stopped, a pencil clacked against metal. "Huh?"

Suddenly you felt stupid for snooping, the guilt sinking in when you started to speak. "Yeah, this girl here. She— Are you guys related?" You pointed to her photo, comforting eyes and a bright smile staring back at you.

A floorboard cracked, and the shadow on the bulletin board grew as Stiles got closer. You turned to him just in time to catch his eyes connect with her photo. His jaw opened, but there were no words to fill the empty space. You could tell by the way his eyes briefly squeezed shut that her face brought bad memories to light. Maybe she was an ex of his? You truly hoped not since that would mean he's not over her if her picture is still in his room.

"That's- She's-" A sigh of frustration. "Her name is Allison." His eyes dropped, and the guilt he spoke to Scott with re-entered his voice. You hadn't considered the possibility of it being a sensitive subject, and you'd do anything to keep Stiles from being upset with you, but before you had a chance to tell the boy to forget it, Stiles was on the move again.

His hand ran up his forehead, his fingers rubbing at the creases before carding through his hair. "She was Scott's girlfriend, you would've probably loved her." Stiles finally looked up at you for what was probably the first time tonight. "She sacrificed herself to help Scott save me. She shouldn't have... shouldn't've died." You picked up on how he was referring to the time he was possessed by the Nogitsune. His eyes carried so much grief, guilt, and loss. How could a boy so young bear more trauma than most ever would? Still, Stiles read the persistent curiosity in your eyes. "She was my sister, but we're not related."

[kukurykunapatyku]

[I.D.: Drawing of Usopp and Vinsmoke Niji from One Piece. They're both seen from the side, circling around each other, Usopp is aiming his slingshot and Niji is brandishing an electrified sword. Usopp wears sniper king mask, red cape, green pants, brown shoes and blue-white arm warmers. Niji wears black cape with blue '2' on it, blue costiume and yellow-blue boots, he's smirking. /End I.D.]

Vinsmoke shipping week day 4: Red string / Hero x Villain

The neferious Germa group is terrorizing the streets, but fear not, because the great Sniper King is here to save you!

Strawhats are semi-superhero team. Luffy doesn't care about crime, it just happens that bad guys usually target his friends for some reason. Nami somehow convinced him to at least cover his face when they beat up guys on live television.

Niji gets a crush on two people at once and tries to deal with it in completly normal matter - by proving they're actually the same person (he's right).

⬇️Fanfic under readmore⬇️ also on Ao3

Niji carefully pinned the photo next to the others. He frowned, adjusted two more to fit the rest better and stepped back to admire his work. Photos, bus schedules, discarded papers, shard broken off the Sniper King mask, piece of fabric - all gathered together. There was just one thing to do and his board would be complete. He grinned, pulled out a ball of red yarn and began connecting the pins until they formed one massive web of evidence. And like a spider ready for dinner, he finally found that one fly that was pulling at its strings, and come to the single possible conclusion.

"And why, pray tell, do you think one of your regular customers is part of the superhero team? The one that always thwarts father's plans no less?"

"Don't you see?" Niji slammed the board. "It's all here!"

"All I see is an, admittingly ambitious, art project made of coincidences and stalking tendencies."

"Listen, it's too much to just be a coincidence, at this point it's proof."

Ichiji sighed and closed the book he was reading.

"Fine, lets indulge you. What proof?"

"First of, they drink the same coffee - both take exactly two sugar cubes, one puff of cream and two pumps of caramel syrup."

"Why do you know how Sniper King takes his coffee?"

Niji looked at him like he was stupid

"Because I asked him? He's my nemesis, I need to know those things."

"Your nemesis?" Ichiji stuttered. "Since when??"

"About two months ago; we were picking them, don't you remember? You took the witch."

Ichiji tapped his fingers on the table. That didn't sound right, he was sure if something like this happened he would have remembered. If they did it there must have been a purpose, but what? Battle strategies? Did father know? Was Ichiji supposed to tell him? And he picked the Weather Witch? What on earth could Niji be talking about-

Suddenly very tired, Ichiji put his hand on his face and slowly pulled it down.

"Niji. We played 'Fuck, Marry, Kill' about the Strawhats. How did this turn into nemesis thing?"

"Ain't that the same thing? Anyway, we're getting off track." He pointed at the blurry photo of a dark alleyway. "See?"

"See what?"

"Argh, do I have to do everything here? Look, here, it's Sniper's cape!"

Ichiji leaned forward and squinted. True, in the left corner, near the bins, there was something that could be a fragment of red fabric. Or an unlucky rat.

"I followed Usopp one evening and I lost him somewhere here," his finger followed one of the red lines until it reached a cutout of city's map, with big circle drawn in the middle of it. "But I'm sure he didn't walk much further, because he was carrying four of those babies." He tapped on the stock picture of an ice-cream package. "There were other shops on his way and he only stopped to buy them here." Next map had a red cross slapped on it. "Which means he was probably coming closer to home. Other stores in the neighborhood are over there, there, there and there. Since he didn't visit those, he must live somewhere before the road could reach any of them, or he would have just buy ice-cream there."

Niji looked at his brother expectantly. "See now?"

Ichiji blinked a few times. That was impressive recon work, and he could probably agree with him... If he knew what point he was even trying to make.

"So... you think the coffee guy lives somewhere between these streets." He pointed at the marked portion of the map. "But what does it have to do with your theory?"

"Everything! I just showed you, I found a piece of Sniper's cape next to the houses there, it's evidence!"

Ichiji massaged his temples and counted to ten. Did he have to do this? He could just leave. Maybe call Yonji so Niji could bother someone else.

But then, a voice in his head said, you have no excuse if father suddenly decides he wants an audience to hear about another freaking death ray.

If he had to listen to his family's ramblings...

"It's just red fabric, it doesn't necessary mean anything. Plus, your guy could be going to his friends house, or a party. Four boxes of ice-cream is a lot for one person."

Niji waved him away.

"Oh no, I know Usopp will eat it. He once told me he can do even five if he puts his mind to it. Calls it his 'depression repression' meal. And!" He pulled a clipped cloth Ichiji failed to notice before. "Sniper doesn't use any shabby materials! His cape is waterproof, fireproof, really hard to rip and can even withstand acid for a while. And guess what? This piece I took from the alley is exactly that!"

Ichiji sincerely hated that he actually started to consider this. "Still, you can't be sure. A lot of people live there. Plus, if I was trying to hide my identity, I wouldn't throw damming evidence with my garbage. It's more likely, if it even is the same material, that it was thrown there by somebody passing by."

Niji sneered, annoyed that the argument actually made sense.

"We all are hiding our identity; why 'if'?"

"Father's hightech company is one letter away from just spelling his evil codename, we lost a member around the same time Sanji, very publicly, left the family and we barely cover our faces when we go out. Are we hiding our identities?"

"It's different, we're rich. We can do whatever we want and so one will accuse us."

"That just proves my point. I doubt Sniper can afford being find out, so he's probably more cautious handling his leftovers."

"Maybe he's rich too, you don't know that. I mean, he's not since I know it's Usopp, but. Well. Doesn't matter, because I have even more evidence!"

He gestured at another portion of the board, with two papers on it. One seemed to be a photo of Sniper taken in the middle of battle, even more unfocused than the others. The other was a printed selfie of darkskinned guy around 20 years old, with long curly hair and wide smile. But the first thing that caught attention was his- Oh no.

"As you can see," Niji gloated, "they have the same nose!"

Ichiji slammed his forehead on the table.

The twin bang could be heard across the city, in an unkempt apartment (that on paper was shared by five people, which really downplayed how many actually passed by it).

"For the last time Usopp, your favourite barista is not Dengeki Blue just because the hair match!

[greenhorn-art]

It Starts with a Dream by Autumn_Rain @ciaolongbao

Fandom: 全职高手 | The King's Avatar

Rating: General Audiences

Category: Gen

Words: 6 566

In a collaboration with Make-a-Wish Foundation, the Glory Professional Alliance hosts an event in Shanghai so that the children could meet their idols and heroes. It was a normal publicity stunt and charity event until it stopped being one. Trust Ye Xiu to always derail the Alliance's plans, but this time no one could blame him, or Han Wenqing, for that matter. Who would expect them to be so good with kids?

About the book:

FONTS: Crimson [Google Fonts], Roboto [Google Fonts], and Georgia

IMAGES: Equalizer background from Rawpixel (ID: 3119862); Gamepad icon (Image# 5358929) by pictranoosa on The Noun Project; Heavenly Domain image from The King’s Avatar Wikia.

MATERIALS: 20lb 96 bright 8½”×11”multiuse paper; 0.057" chipboard; Ruby red Iris Bookcloth; Neenah bright white 8½”×11” 65lb cardstock; 30/3 waxed linen thread; wheat paste (1:4 flour to water).

PROGRAMS USED: typeset in Affinity Publisher 2; cover designed with Affinity Designer 2 and Affinity Photo 2; imposed with Renegade's Community Imposer (settings: Quarto, snug against binding edge, signatures of 2 sheets).

Textblock printed with laser printer, covers printed with inkjet printer.

BINDING: Quarto size (quarter-letter, 4.25"x5.5"), sewn board binding with French-link stitch and breakaway spine.

Trying New Things 2: Electric Bugaloo!

Though it's not my first time making a quarto size book, it's my first sewn board binding and my first breakaway spine. Will not be my last. (I'm fact, as I'm writing this I've already bound another QZGS fic using this method!)

Much like Coptic, the sewn board binding technique bypasses the exact things I dread about making a case bound book: making the cover and casing in. Haven't gotten the hang of spines or hinges yet. Or pasting down the endpapers when casing in. (Art imitating life: my books aren't straight and neither am I lol)

Drumming things on (use of minimal glue, only on edges where necessary) is a lot less stressful and means there is less moisture to worry about. However I have my doubts about the structural integrity and longevity of sewn board binding when compared to case binding. With minimal glueing there's less holding it together, and the particular method of covering the boards means that they're partially exposed, in all their onion-y glory (by which I mean 🧅layers✨).

Onto the design:

The endpapers are an image of Glory's heavenly domain, acquired from The King's Avatar Wikia (I just cropped out the pro teams' logos, then resized and cropped to fit.)

The covers were designed as one image so that the contents will flow and connect from one cover to the other.

A major theme of this story, I felt, was connection: the kids are meeting their heroes; HWQ and YX stun everyone by connecting so well with the kids, playing with them, encouraging them, and inspiring them; YX opens up about his backstory and reveals a similar dream to a kid; that same kid going on to become a pro with New Excellent Era.

To pull some quotes from the story: "Everything started with a dream between friends… but now that dream will end with a legacy", "after all, you're never going to be walking alone. Glory has never been mean to be played alone", YX "[continued] inspiring new generations of gamers long after he had retired."

Following that theme of connection, the controllers on the covers are physically connected with a pinkish-red wire. For that I went with a red string of fate, thinking along the lines of fate and a love of Glory. The wire is also in the shape of a cancer awareness ribbon on the front cover (hence why the red is skewed pink).

The black and white controllers are like Player 1 & 2, and they're connected. To each other, to Glory.

I traced the gamepad icon with the pen tool in Affinity Designer, creating filled in curves of each component, for ease of recolouring and resizing without losing quality.

An equalizer background image, stretched and with low opacity, adds texture to the cover. It also reminded me of pixels from holograms. (The idea of the pros and kids' game playing out on stage with massive holograms really stuck with me).

I also wanted to directly reference Make-a-Wish in the cover design, so I looked up which font they use in the logo/branding. Search results turned up Georgia being used in relation to the brand, so I exclusively used that font on the covers. And added a little star above the 'i' in 'with', like in 'Wish' for the Make-a-Wish logo.

(also first attempt at nail art. Armed with a toothpick, I made Ye Xiu from The King's Avatar themed nails! 😾Sullen Kitten; 🌶️Unrivalled Super Hottie; ☂️Myriad Manifestations Umbrella; 🍁One Autumn Leaf; 😊Happy)

[caged-crows]

q!phil thing based on yesterday's lore yesyes

the particles around him fade from his vision as he yawns, walking towards the door to the bunker. as he climbs down the ladder, he feel exhuastion enter his bones. he was so tired, no matter how much sleep he got.

he missed his kids. he needed them back more than anything.

"okay," phil says to no one but himself, "gonna check the storage room. then i'm gonna go to bed." he says with a certain amount of resolve, trying to imitate a friend of his.

the storage room is the same as it was-- the void that had cut through was still the same. tallulah and chayanne's signs were still the same. he checks the chest, thinking it would also still be the same, and then he stops.

the world stands still for a moment, and phil forgets how to breathe.

the apples he had given to chayanne were gone. there was a note in their place.

phil grabs the note, staring at it-- it's a set of coordinates.

he knows where that is. he knows exactly where that is.

he doesn't waste any time. he just gets up and goes.

chayanne's pumpkin patch-- his favorite place on the island. they had made so many memories here, with phil showing chayanne how to stand for a fight here. how to string a bow, how to enchant basically anything... they did it here.

from the waystone, the void cuts through the earth like a knife. a jagged path goes up and up to the tallest of the rolling hills, where it all accumulates and a chest sits. phil doesn't hesitate-- he opens it.

at the bottom of the chest, sits a photo and a folded up piece of paper. phil grabs the photo, and feels his stomach drop as soon as he sees it.

it's a photo of chayanne. he sits in the top right corner of the frame, most of his body cut off, but it's definitely him. phil can see cuts and bruises on him, as well as lots of dirt, soot, and mud. he's sitting in what looks like a cave, completely alone. probably scared, and with no way to protect himself from what phil can see.

immediately, his blood starts to boil. he's infuriated, staring at the photo like it personally insulted him.

he was blood hungry now, the crows the followed him everywhere cawing in rage. they were just as mad as he was-- and so was she. he could feel her rage, even if their connection was sparse on this island.

his boy, his little hero, his chayanne-- cold, scared, defenseless and alone.

phil takes the piece of paper from the chest and opens it. more coordinates.

tallulah's flower field.

he has a feeling he knows what's going to happen next.

he goes, taking the warp plate. like he suspects, the void has infected here too. it cuts through everything, swallowing flowers and plants and trees.

phil goes to the chest. there's another photo in it.

tallulah takes up the left side of this image. her face is obscured by her hair, but it's definitely her. he sees the flower veil that she made with forever last month-- he'd helped her put in her hair. she'd loved it so much she decided keep it in. phil thought it suited her.

like chayanne, tallulah is also covered in injuries. she's got brusies all over her arms and legs, and that dirt and mud too. she's also wearing her purple mushroom hat that she loved so much. she's curled into the floor, as if she were trying to hide from something (or maybe someone). she looks to also be sitting in a cave... but not the same as chayanne, since the floor looked different in his photo.

phil glares at the photo in rage, his vision going red.

his precious girl, his little musician, his tallulah-- curled up on the floor of some dingy cave. hurt, cold, alone, scared, vunerable.

chayanne was one thing. even without a weapon, phil had taught him to very resourceful, so he could mostly take care of himself. sure, the photo pissed him off still, because it was a crime that he even had to go through all that in the first place, but he'd be okay. he could make himself safe. tallulah on the other hand was completely different story.

because of her asthma and hearing issues, tallulah needed to be watched constantly. someone needed to keep on eye on her, especially when she was outside. phil always made sure to keep an eye on her for this reason, keep her close to him, so she wouldn't get hurt.

if phil wasn't enraged before, he sure as fuck was now.

"i don't know who or what the hell did this," he snarls, "but i'm gonna kill it. whoever is responsible for this deserves the fucking grave."

he takes out his communicator, and messages cellbit.

you whisper to cellbit: we need to talk. now. cellbit whispers to you: okay, lets meet at the order

phil wastes no time. he goes right to the meeting room, walks in and sits down, the two photos of his children in front of him.

he'd get them back. he'd get them back and kill this piece of shit who dared hurt his fledglings.

[sopiloveshobi]

Red String - chapter 2

"An invisible thread connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, and circumstance. The thread may stretch or tangle. But it will never break."

!Warnings: Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault

Wednesday 5th of October

It has gotten really cold the past few weeks. You weren’t really expecting it and you caught a cold. Whether it was because you wouldn’t dress warm enough or because someone in the office brought the thing with them one day. You were ill. Fever 39, runny nose and you couldn’t get a word out of your throat. Not even mentioning the sharp blade-like feeling down your throat. You were running out of food, you ate everything you had in your cupboards stocked up for just in case, and that just in case just came by. You picked up your phone and dialed Sam.

‘I am really sorry to ask you, I am half dead in bed. Could you get me a few things from the shop please?’ you managed to let a few words out, but you indeed sounded like you were speaking from inside a grave.

‘Are you okay? Do you need anything else?’ she sounded really worried, and you really appreciated it.

‘I will be okay, just need more food as I run out of my stocked-up stuff. I don’t even have ramyeon left. Thank you’ you hung up because you felt your fever burning up. Sam had keys to your apartment so you didn’t worry that she would have to wake you up to get inside. You fell asleep and it felt really good, you felt all of your limbs relaxing.

Thursday 6th of October

A few hours have passed and you didn’t even know what time it was. But it was in fact the morning. You looked at your phone and it was already past 10 in the morning. You took a few days off work to get better and sleep has definitely been helping you. You saw an unread message from a work number. It was from Tracey, who covers for you when you are ill or on holiday. She has been hired through an agency and is only called when you can’t come in. She’s a full-time mum but she likes to work a few days a month if she can to get extra money on the side.

Tracey: 09:45am Someone came to see you today. He was really worried when he didn’t see you behind the desk. He asked for you so I told him you were ill and he looked even more worried. He only left his business card. It says Jung Hoseok on it. Do you know him? Hope you feel better soon!

You put your phone down and rolled back to the other side of your bed. Why would this man be looking for you in your workplace. You closed your eyes and remembered his smell. Really nice sandalwood with a touch of freshness. You couldn’t get the smell out of your head. You got up from bed and saw a note on your table from Sam ‘Feel better soon, food is in the fridge and cupboards. Love you x’. You opened the fridge and few ready meals from your favorite restaurant were packed as well as few essentials. Milk, cereal on the counter and a stack of instant noodles. You smiled to yourself thinking how much you loved your friend and how grateful you were to her for always taking care of you. You grabbed whatever box was on the top shelf and opened it. Smelled really nice, whatever it was. You put it in the microwave for few minutes and went to the bathroom. Your phone buzzed. The microwaved finished warming up your food. You grabbed the box from the microwave and went back to bed, mixing really warm rice with some sauce on top together. You grabbed your phone. Another text from Tracey.

Tracey: 10:45 am The guy came back and asked if I could give him your number. I told him no since I hadn’t gotten an answer from you. But if you can contact the man I think you should.

The string nearly tingled. It’s pulling again. He is pulling at it.

You kept the business card. You put your food on the side of the bed and went to your bag to find it. It took you a few tries and there it was. In your hand.

Jung Hoseok and Partners Corporate Lawyer

You turned the paper around and found his mobile and the address of the firm. You looked at it for a second and then at your phone. Should you really do this? How strange. You keep bumping into him, out of nowhere. You can smell his perfume from afar. He is a lawyer, he didn’t question you not wanting to take the coffee you didn’t see being made. He seems stable, he seems mature. He wears really nice suits. And those almond eyes of his. No. You just got your heart broken. If it’s meant to be it will be. You put your phone down and slid the business card back into your bag.

It will be. One way or another. It's fate. The red string got thicker and tighter around your wrist.

You got yourself into your bed again, picked up your heated-up food and ate it all nearly at once. You were so hungry, haven’t had much since yesterday mid day. The fever has been burning up and you slept through a lot. You grabbed your phone again and responded to Tracey. ‘It’s okay, just tell him you can’t next time. If he ever shows up again. I don’t really know him. He is a visitor of the firm’ and then you opened chat with Sam ‘You are an angel. I already feel better, thank you so much again x’.

You finished your meal and went back under covers, tucked yourself in and dozed off. You were still weak and exhausted, hoping tomorrow you will feel better. Strong enough for a shower and maybe a walk outside. Fresh air could do you some good. But tomorrow was far away, it was only about half eleven in the morning. You fell asleep.

Monday 10th of October

You finally feel so much better you managed to call in work and announce you will be coming in today. The meals Sam brought for you helped you recover in no time, as well as all the sleep you got. You decided to skip the coffee this morning just to not tease the fate this time and simply get to work. You partially forgot about Jung Hoseok but the second you looked at your corner café you just decided to make it to the office. Maybe lunchtime coffee would be a better idea.

Your day went by without any issues. It wasn’t too busy, only few visitors and barely any new requests. You worked through your emails and enjoyed somewhat a nice ease into your work week after being off for few days.

November

The entire month went by really fast. You were really busy at work and you enjoyed it because it took your mind off your recent heartbreak. Your company was slowly preparing for a merger with a smaller firm, so there was a lot of important meeting in the lounge and upstairs in the conference rooms. More meetings meant more visitors which you had to hand passes for and account for during the day. It also meant your desk and the entrance had to look really presentable and on the highest level of professionalism. You went back to getting your coffee every morning at the same place and occasionally you felt the scent of his. But you never actually bumped into him again. Not in there anyway. He was coming to the same place because it was also convenient for him, close to his work, close to his home. He was either sitting around the corner at a table or already left with a coffee to go.

You didn’t get a lot of details of what was happening upstairs, but you saw many lawyers coming and going on a daily basis. And so was he. He became a common visitor, he would smile at the sight of you behind your desk, sometimes he would bring you a flat white from your café but nothing more than that. He would say hello occasionally too but there was never any further conversations between the two of you. No pressure. No expectations.

Yet the string kept tangling around the two of you each time you were in close proximity of each other. You still could feel his scent occasionally. It would linger around you. He would linger around, somewhere in the background.

December

The lounge you worked in gained a huge Christmas tree with very fancy ornaments and flickering fairy lights. It has gotten really cold outside, so you couldn’t ever skip your favourite hot drink on the way to the office. This time as you were waiting for your order your phone buzzed in your pocket. You took it out and saw a text from Sam.

Sam 7:43am: They finally announced Christmas Party! It’s going to be on the top floor, the one they have been renovating for months now. We should go shopping after work to find something nice, what do you think?

You smiled. You loved Christmas parties, you loved winter. Sometimes even more than autumn. You responded to your friend with ‘Can’t wait, see you after work’. You already started daydreaming what kind of dress you wanted to wear. You were thinking of a green velvet A-shaped dress that hugged you in the right places. You opened Pinterest to search for some inspiration and then the barista mentioned that your order is ready to pick up. Cinnamon swirl and a hot cup of a flat white to go. You grabbed the pastry and put it in your bag and grabbed your coffee, not stopping with your scrolling. The news put you in such a good mood you even twirled around yourself as you walked out of the building. You got to the office and got on with work. The day didn’t seem to be busy at all so you had plenty time to look for inspiration. You sipped your hot coffee for the majority of the morning until you saw an interesting email going through your inbox. Confirmation of the Christmas party and indeed an invitation to the top floor. You rarely make it upstairs and if you do is only to lead a visitor to their meetings. But you were hoping to maybe get promoted and work in the reception upstairs, closer to more important people. Not longer after you got a ping on Teams from one of the managing partners from upstairs.

‘Please come see me in my office in 30 minutes’. Said the message. Really strange, because you rarely came in contact with any of the big bosses upstairs. Your direct manager was working in HR. But you couldn’t say no or not show up. You were around the corporate environment for long enough to know who to respect. You finished your coffee, brushed your hair with your emergency hair brush that you had stored in your desk and got chewing gum to refresh your breath after your morning coffee. 25 minutes have passed and you looked at your dainty little watch, time to go upstairs. You took the right corridor and got into the lift. Picked the right floor and clicked the button to faster close the door. No big deal, everything will be okay. You thought to yourself. The whole situation made you really nervous because the guy upstairs didn’t give you a reason.

You got out of the lift and followed the long corridor to the right. You walked to the door with the name written on it ‘Min Yoongi. Managing Director’. You softly knocked on the door and waited for the answer. You have briefly looked at your watch, perfectly on time.

‘Come in’ you have heard and pushed the door and closed it behind yourself. You walked towards the middle of the room, still shaking a little with nerves.

‘You wanted to see me, sir?’ you looked at the chair that was turned around from the centre of the room, facing the window behind the desk.

‘I did. It’s time to talk about your promotion’ the chair turned around and sitting on it slender man, with long dark hair sleeked to the back with gel. Black suit with white thing stripes, black tie neatly at his neck. His eyes locked at your body. He got up from the chair and got a drink sorted for himself and you. He pointed at a sofa on one of the sides of the room and nodded at you, in a gesture for you to sit down. And you did. Following his lead. He mentioned a promotion so your ears and eyes were wide open and ready to listen.

You sat on the leather couch, one leg on the other. You started looking around the room as Min Yoongi was preparing a drink. Which was really strange considering the time of the day but you just went with it. What else could you do? You didn’t have to drive to work and one of the most influential men in your company was offering you a drink. You couldn’t decline.

He finished pouring the drinks, moved towards you and handed you a glass with ice and small amount of liquid in it. You took the glass but didn’t drink it. Just held it in your hand, patiently waiting for his next move.

‘So, how long have you been working downstairs?’ he asked, sitting right next to you. Keeping his distance but eyeing you up and down.

‘About four’ you admitted, having the answer right at the tip of your tongue ready for his questions.

‘We thought of moving you upstairs here. Most of the meetings about the merger are happening here anyway, so we could have you help us here. Point the guests to the right rooms, serve a drink occasionally’. His leg now moved closer to your. But you didn’t think any of it. You sipped on the drink he just handed you. You nodded.

‘Of course, anywhere I can be useful I am happy to support’ you had a ready corporate answer for him and you smiled politely from your glass. He nodded with satisfaction and eyed you up and down again. He licked his lips and sipped on his drink.

‘I need you to start tomorrow. We have been so busy here’ he muttered, his voice low and he moved his tie away from his neck. Looked like he was getting warm.

‘No problem. Will the desk be ready for me?’ you smiled at him and finished your drink. That’s what the business up here looks like? All you have to do is agree and drink a little on the job and it moves swiftly? Sounded easier than you thought. ‘Who is going to replace me downstairs?’ you asked.

‘Tracey decided to come in and work full time and she agreed to take downstairs’ he answered and got up from the seat and turned around and handed you his hand, to help you get up. Min Yoongi what a strange man. But you didn’t question again, you put your hand in his and got up from the sofa. You put your glass back at the bar cart.

‘I will be here first thing tomorrow then. Thank you again for the opportunity’ you smiled at him ‘Is that everything?’ you added headed to the door.

‘There is just one more thing. Our female staff is required to wear skirts and dresses up here. It looks more professional. No sneakers and jeans’ he looked down on your wide dress trousers and licked his lips again.

‘Understood. I will adjust my professional wardrobe sir. I will see you tomorrow’ you answered and walked yourself out of his office. You just got promoted. Just like you wanted by the time it has gotten to the Christmas party you will be working upstairs. You closed the door behind yourself and released a lot of air trapped in your lungs. Enough stress for the day. When you put yourself together you noticed someone looking at you. You turned you head to the side and saw lawyer Jung Hoseok at the end of the corridor leaving a conference room. He smiled politely seeing you on the same floor and slowly walked towards you. You waited. Not sure why but you waited.

‘Going downstairs?’ you asked when he finally made it to you.

‘Yes..’ he answered and locked his eyes with yours. He looked at your gorgeous eyes sparkling with excitement, not knowing the news. He nodded and you both moved on towards the lifts. You were walking side by side. Not saying a word. His hand occasionally brushing the top of yours as you walk the narrow corridor and you don’t mind it. It feels really mysterious and it excites you.

Each time your hands brush, the string tangles both of your arms together tighter and tighter.

You get into the lift and both go down. He turns to you and smiles, open his mouth to say something but stops himself. You saw it in the corner of your eye but didn’t say anything. You didn’t react. You just enjoyed the silence and his presence. It felt comfortable. The silence. You never liked awkward silences but this one felt comforting to you. It felt like the both of you understood each other without words. And just like that you both made it to the ground floor and exited the lift. You went back to your desk and sat on your chair. He gave his temporary pass back to you and waved goodbye as he left the building.

Tuesday, 15th of December

You listened to instructions of your managing director and you indeed put a nice pencil skirt on with black thighs on. You paid extra attention to what you looked like that day and made sure you had everything with you. You also left extra early to ensure you are there on time. You took the 613 bus, made it to your new floor and sat behind the desk that was prepared for you. You adjusted your seat and your monitors and unpacked all of your essentials that you have also brought from downstairs. It was really early, about 7 in the morning. You didn’t expect anyone this early around but then you heard sound of shoes on the carpet and you turned around.

Min Yoongi. This early in the morning?

‘You look… amazing’ he whispered as he walked up to you and leaned forward at your desk. He eyed out your skirt and your knee poking out beneath it. He licked his lips and walked around the desk to get closer to you. You were shocked. What is the game he is playing? He sat at the corner of the desk and put his hand on your knee. So this is the price you have to pay for your promotion up here? You brushed his hand off your knee, by a excuse of getting up. But he pulled you into his arms.

‘Please let me go’ you said coldly. You tried brushing his arms from your body. But he kept it there.

‘I thought I made myself clear yesterday’ his low voice rang in your ears. He put his other hand on your ass and it made you feel even more uncomfortable.

‘Please stop’ you hissed at him but he didn’t listen. The door of the lift dinged and you saw a familiar briefcase and then suit and dark hair and almond eyes. He stopped as he walked out. Min Yoongi let go of you and brushed his suit quickly.

‘I will see you later’ he muttered ‘Ah Hoseok, really good to see you. Come to my office we need to discuss the final move’ he walked towards the man who just came out of the lift. You couldn’t face him, couldn’t look him in the eye. You felt disgusting and he didn’t want to see you looking so embarrassed. He looked at you then he eyed Yoongi but he didn’t smile. He bit his bottom lip and his eyes turned even darker. He followed Yoongi to his office, but he turned around once and saw you fixing your skirt and hair. He shook his head and released his clenched fist. Anger was boiling inside of him.

You were shook. You didn’t expect this happen and you were hoping the office will fill with people soon enough. You didn’t want to stay here, you didn’t know how to report this what to do with this. You took your handbag and went to the bathroom hoping to find a little peace and quiet to put yourself together and go back to your professional self. You wanted to message your friends, especially Sam since she worked few floors down from you. But you left your phone at your desk. You refreshed yourself, calmed yourself down and walked out of the bathroom back to your desk. You decided to keep the information to yourself and reminded yourself to never come to the office earlier than your normal hours, hoping more people would be around.

Wednesday 16th of December

On your way to work you walked into your café and grabbed a coffee to go. As you were walking to the building, you felt the familiar smell and when you turned around you saw Hoseok right behind you.

‘Good morning’ he said, soft smile on his lips but his eyes were hiding something. His eyes weren’t happy. They were angry.

‘Hi..’ you answered softly, looking away from his eyes. Ashamed. Because he witnessed the worst day of your life yesterday. He didn’t mention anything. On his way he just looked towards you once. He didn’t say anything else. He just followed you, he followed you to the same lift as you and left on the same floor as you did. And then again he went to Min Yoongis office. And you didn’t see him all day. You didn’t see Min Yoongi either. Strange. You were kind of preparing yourself for another day of unpleasant, even thought you did come to work later.

And the days kept passing, and Hoseok kept showing up and went to work with you. Everyday he would occupy Yoongi in the mornings when the office wasn’t full of people. Occasionally he would leave the office at the same time as you, when he knew Yoongi would be staying in late. He turned into your guardian angel, without you noticing or knowing. You just simply thought it was the hard work he was putting for the merger and the projects he was helping with.

You tried being brave, but you were drinking in the evenings. The feeling of disgust still creeped at you. You started hating yourself. You didn’t pay attention to your looks as much, you kept everything simple. You barely met up with your friends. You stopped calling your family. You were in trouble.

Friday 20th of December

You walked into the building and you noticed the void. The void of Hoseok. He wasn’t there. So you expected him already upstairs. You smiled briefly at Tracey at the ground floor desk and went upstairs in the lift. The second you poked out of it, you saw Yoongi at your desk. Leaning over it, waiting for you to show up.

‘Finally, got you to myself sweetheart’ he smirked. You thought you’re going to throw up. You wanted to turn around and go back into the lift, run the other direction but the door has already closed and went down. You just looked down to your feet.

‘What do you want Yoongi’ you answered and slowly made your way to the desk. You put your hand into your bag tried to find your phone but you couldn’t get it without looking inside and you weren’t in the position to stop looking around yourself.  He didn’t answer, he just grabbed your back and slowly pushed you towards his office. And you started walking to it. You knew you were trapped and you honestly were giving up. You were so disgusted with yourself that you stopped caring what might happen to you. He closed the door behind you.

‘You little slut. I didn’t know you were doing our lawyer’ he sucked his teeth and clicked his tongue at you. Walking around you like you are some kind of victim. And you were. His victim.

‘I don’t know who you are talking about but I am not doing anyone’ you hissed back at him and stared at his every move.

‘And a liar. I wouldn’t think you were Jung Hoseoks taste. You are way to easy to grab’ he smirked and started circulating around you like a vulture.

‘I don’t even know the man’ you had the strong feeling of explaining yourself. At that moment you’ve heard a knock on the door to the office and Hoseok didn’t even wait for a come in. He walked into the office.

‘Sorry I’m late, I thought we had a meeting at 7 Yoongi?’ he looked at your and he saw the look on your face. He looked back at Yoongi and saw him smrik.

‘Straight to the rescue as I expected. Sit down Hoseok. Y/n you can go back to work, thank you for your hard work recently. I hope to see you on our Christmas party later today’ he sat back at his desk on his big chair. You stared Hoseok straight into his eyes as you were walking out and then went back to your desk. Another day that you avoided being touched by Min Yoongi. Another lucky one. And at this time you stopped believing it was luck anymore. You were saved by Hoseok. It wasn’t a coincidence that he would have meetings with Yoongi everyday at 7, he would walk to the building at the same time as you. He was there to protect you. He was there and he was the only person knowing what was going on with you. He knew what was happening to you and he tried to protect you the best way he could in the current circumstances.

You finished your day earlier and headed home. You promised Sam to go to the Christmas party together and you did buy the green velvet dress for the occasion. But you didn’t feel like wearing it. You didn’t feel like going. You didn’t want to be around him, you didn’t want to see his face. But you were hoping to be safe around your friend. Around many other people.

You got both got ready together at Sams place which wasn’t far from your office. You brought everything you needed the day before to just quickly show up after work and shower and change.

‘I love Christmas parties. I hope they will have those mini sandwiches. I love them. And bubbly. They always make sure there is a lot of champagne on parties like those’ Sam was putting her pretty earrings at the mirror. You finished getting ready and were putting soft dark lipstick next to her.

‘I’m sure they will serve it. I feel like I’ve seen the caterers earlier today and they had so many bottles of champagne’ you answered and looked at yourself in the mirror. You didn’t recognise the face. You didn’t know who you were anymore. The previously happy and ordinary life has left you and you were just an empty shell of a person, pushing through every day.

‘I’m so ready to have a break as well! We are so lucky we can finish early and not come back until New Years’ she continued fixing her hair in a high ponytail.

‘You look really nice Sam. I really like the dress on you’ you looked at your friend and admired how good the outfit looked on her. It fit her just right. It was the perfect mix of elegant and sexy. Still very professional and not exposing anything she shouldn’t at a work meeting.

‘You look great too. I really think the green was a really good choice. Very Christmasy!’ she looked at you and she saw something wasn’t right, but she also knew you will tell her when you’re ready. So she was just there for you, just in case. She would text you during the week to check in and she was happy with just a thumbs up to her message. She didn’t forcer herself on you. Sam was worried. And so was Grace but they gave you space. You didn’t need the space but you also didn’t really want to tell anyone what was happening. It was easier this way. The fact that Hoseok knew was overwhelming enough.

You got a taxi from Sams apartment to the office, it was really cold. The city was covered in snow. The temperatures under 0. Freezing cold but dry. It wasn’t snowing and it wasn’t humid in any way, so the cold felt very winter like. You both got inside the building and took the lift to the last floor. The floor that was being refurbished for the past few months was officially done and being open today, during this Christmas party. As the both of you walked into the lift you gulped loudly, which you didn’t mean to but it came out naturally. Sam looked at you worried and opened her mouth to finally try and ask you what is going on.

‘I’m fine. It’s just stress at work’ you quickly shut her down without letting her even ask the question. You held onto your bag harder and the door dinged. You are on the top floor. The both of you walked out to a very luxurious corridor, marble on the walls and floor. Red carpet running in the middle of the corridor only laid out for the special occasion. Christmas trees at every corner, decorated with very delicate ornaments and twinkle lights. You got handed a glass of champagne which you have necked right away and grabbed another glass and Sam couldn’t believe what she was seeing. You were always the classy one, you knew how to behave in professional settings more than anyone. This didn’t feel like you at all. You turned around with your glass in your hand and spotted Min Yoongi in the corner, speaking to the other managing directors and top people of the company. You got goosebumps and instantly felt nauseous so you turned around.

‘Lets see if they got the mini sandwiches you wanted’ you whispered to Sam and grabbed her by her wrist. You both walked towards a temporary food area, which was one of the conference rooms, decorated with Christmas ornaments. The table had an insane amount of buffet food on it, small and easy to grab on the go, whilst lingering and chatting to co-workers. The place started getting busier and busier. You relaxed for a little bit, because the number of people made you feel a little bit more safe and more comfortable. You chatted to few colleagues of Sam, who worked with her and you got to know in the past months. One of them was an accountant that worked with Sam very closely on their recent project.

‘Kim Namjoon’ he said when he shook your hand ‘I’ve heard a lot about you’ he added and smiled politely. He was very tall, dark hair and very sleepy dark eyes. Wide shoulders.

‘Likewise’ you lied and smiled back at him and then started at Sam with a suggestive smile. You looked at her and saw how her eyes started sparkling when he showed up. There was definitely something going on between the two of them but you didn’t really talk to Sam since the project finished so you didn’t really get to catch up. But they both looked really fond of each other and you were really happy for Sam. She wouldn’t have introduced the man to you if it wasn’t serious to her.

‘This is my colleague, he works two floors above us. Kim Seokjin.’ Namjoon added and moved his friend closer to you ‘I thought you guys might have a lot in common and what’s a better time than a Christmas Party than to get to know more of your work colleagues right?’ he was perky. He was obvious. He didn’t try and hide that this was a set up. A set up you really didn’t want to entertain right now.

‘Nice to meet you. I am really sorry, I desperately need to find a bathroom. Excuse me’ you smiled at the new guy you just met and the rest of the group and you tried to squeeze past all of the people in the way. As you expected the bathroom was exactly above the one the floor below, the floor you worked on. You finished your champagne and left the glass with a lovely girl who was working tonight. You walked inside the bathroom and took a deep breath. Not long after you heard the door open and you turned around. The person standing there was someone you didn’t expect to have the balls to show up in this setting. Yet he did. Min Yoongi went into women's bathroom just to talk to you in private. Just to soak you just by himself.

‘I…’ you managed to say but he instantly was at you. He grabbed you by your wrists, holding really tight and dragged you behind him into a cubicle. You were trying to stop him, you were pulling back towards the door but he was stronger than you.

‘You dress looks really nice. Let’s see how nice is going to look on the floor’ he smirked and kept pulling you behind him.

At the same time Hoseok just managed to make it to the top floor. The entire floor was filled with people and he tried to localise you. He went around in circles and looked for you everywhere but he couldn’t get to you. He remembered what Yoongi said to you earlier today and he knew he will try to do something really bad. And he knew he was the one to stop him. He kept looking, asking people around if they saw you but nobody really paid enough attention to even know you arrived.

He pushed you into the cubicle and closed the door behind him. Pinched you to the wall and leaned really close. Both of his hands on your hips now, slowly pulling you to him. You tried to get out of his embrace, you were trying to kick him but he was expecting every move of yours.

‘Just let it happen’ he whispered right into your ear and you felt sick. He was shaking and your breath picked up, you were pacing. Tears started rolling down your cheeks. You felt like there was no escape. That he will get what he finally wants. And what was the worst you felt like it was your fault. You shouldn’t have ever come back to work after the first time. You shouldn’t have come to this party knowing what he said earlier. You were blaming yourself for the disgusting things this man was about to do to you.

‘Where is she?!’ Hoseok got to Sam. Where and how did he know that she knows you, neither of you knew. But he was really desperate now and he felt that something bad is about to happen.

The string was pulling him to you more than ever.

‘Where is who?’ Sam was disoriented and didn’t really know who this person was. She was giggling with Namjoon 5 seconds ago and now she was being shouted at. Namjoon grew and made himself bigger and wider, about to open his mouth and start defending Sam.

‘Y/n! Where did she go?’ he lowered his voice and he sounded so desperate, begging almost to find out where you are.

‘She went to the bathroom.. but who are you?’ Sam didn’t manage to get an answer because he disappeared. Panting fast, trying to squeeze past all of the middle-aged men who were sipping champagne and enjoying the mingle. He got to the bathroom. He opened the door and shouted:

‘Yoongi let her be’ he growled and he slowly started walking towards the cubicles. Your underwear was already on the floor and Yoongis disgusting hands were under your dress making their way up your thighs. When you’ve heard Hoseoks voice you held your breath and relaxed a bit. You knew you will be okay. You knew you will be safe.

The red string started pulling Hoseok to you, and you to Hoseok now across a very small corporate bathroom. And the string gave him a pair of wings behind his back, like the guardian angel he became to you.

Hoseok opened the cubicle door, dragged Yoongi by his suit out and punched his face. He punched his face again and again until Yoongi was floored.

‘Get the fuck away from me’ he hissed back, holding his bleeding now lip.

‘Didn’t I tell you to stay away from her?’ Hoseok spit on the floor right next to where Yoongi was laying and walked past him. He poked his head to the cubicle and found you on the floor, sitting holding your knees to your chest, sobbing. Your underwear still on the other side of the cubicle. He looked at it and then at you. And his face turned even angrier.

‘If I find you outside of this bathroom when I leave Yoon, this is the end of your reputation’ he shouted back and heard Yoongi get up of the floor and leave the bathroom. Hoseok kneeled by you and was afraid to touch you. He couldn’t imagine how you felt, he didn’t want to make anything worse or overstep your boundaries. He handed you a tissue he had in his front pocket and you accepted. You wiped your runny nose and your eyes and then looked up to him. He was right beside you, with the imaginary wings made out of the red string. Your guardian angel. Your coincidence. Your fate.

‘Can you please take me somewhere far away?’ you whispered when you finished wiping your face with the tissue.

‘Anywhere you want, can I help you?’ he leaned forward and offered you his hand. And you took it. You grabbed your underwear from the floor and put it into the rubbish bin standing in the corner of the cubicle. You were still holding onto Hoseoks hand, grabbing it tight.

And the string was finally satisfied. Wrapped around the two wrists multiple times, holding both of them together.

You stood up, but your feet and knees were weak. So you leaned on him and he wrapped his arm around you and steadily helped you walk towards the exist of the bathroom.

‘I don’t think I can walk out here like this..’ you admitted, still sobbing.

‘Let me carry you to my car’ he answered without hesitation. He was holding your arm so tight to himself, like you were the most precious thing in his life that he had to protect. You nodded and he leaned down and grabbed your legs bridal style. You wrapped your arms around his neck and tucked your face into his neck so you wouldn’t have to look at anyone on your way out. He slowly pushed the bathroom door open, grabbed your bag last minute and proudly walked out of there, holding you steady around him and hoping to be unnoticed headed towards the lift. Nobody really paid attention, nobody but your friend. She saw Hoseok holding a person and she saw a piece of the green fabric of your dress. She started squeezing past all the people on the way but by the time she made it to the lifts the door was already closed and you and Hoseok were making your way down to the garage.

He got his car keys from his pocket and slowly sat you down on the passengers seat.

‘You’re safe. Nobody, every will lay a hand on you. Nobody will ever make you unhappy. Never’ he answered and you locked your eyes with his. You bit the inside of your mouth and nodded at him. His eyes were angry, furious but the way he was looking at you with the upmost care and love made you feel safe. The way he showed up for you made you feel safe. You didn’t know him or much about him. You were meeting on the daily basis but you had no idea what he was like. He placed a short kiss on the top of your hand and closed the car door. He walked around the car and made it to the drivers seat. He closed the door behind himself and turned the engine on.

‘Do you need to grab anything from yours?’ he asked whilst turning the headlights on.

‘Depends where we are going’ you answered, trying to pull yourself together but you were still in shock not knowing what you want.

‘Depends if we are ever coming back’ he answered and looked at you. He smiled. First time this night he smiled and you saw his heart shaped smile and his eyes softer now, looking at you. You had no idea what it meant, you had no idea where this will even lead you but you knew you needed to get away from home, from this place, from the city, from Min Yoongi.

‘Fine, let me grab few things and leave a note for Sam’ you answered and nodded almost like agreeing with yourself to a plan.

‘You have to guide me, I have no idea where to go’ he started the car and got out of the garage and you started navigating how to get to yours.

[taughtdefense]

your fingers are shakingshakingSHAKING as they clutch desperately at the colored news article you'd printed out in a blind panic a few minutes ago. the paper displays kreese's & silver's mugshot from a few weeks back, which triggered something to SNAP in you. your brown eyes are blown as wide as saucers as you quickly scan through the over-highlighted text, highlighted in various colors, color-coded. you completely ignore your best friend's presence for a moment. it's almost you're expecting the words to change, or for silver to leap out at you, so he can finish the job. but the text never changes, the bruises YOU gave him never fade from his face. your chest heaves rapidly, & you're clearly on the verge of a panic attack that's been brewing all goddamn day. maybe for months.

your current location is a warehouse, which you'd bought-outright... specifically & only for the purpose of tracking kreese's & silver's movements. the room spins dangerously in your vision as the buzzing in your ears grows louder. the space around you is a goddamn chaotic, unorganized mess, the blackout curtains drawn over the windows, refusing to let any natural light in. the only lights that are on right now are super fucking bright, & are angled towards the wall that shows a pretty extensive evidence board covering a portion of the warehouse walls. it details everything that you deem necessary regarding everything that's happened in the valley; kreese's undermining of johnny for one, the flagship cobra kai dojo, for another, to silver's other locations he'd opened across the valley, for another. flight paths around the world, for another. but everything has a place to be here.

WHAT IF JOHN KREESE REALLY ISN'T DEAD?

TERRY SILVER IS FREE. HE HAS TO BE.

silver's picture is smack-dab in the middle of the evidence board. red strings point at his picture from various evidences you've collected over the past few weeks. a picture of the bloodstained katana he used to KILL YOU is slotted next to his picture, which is connected by a red string.

the room doesn't stop spinning, & your breathing goes from strained to panicked, & you start gasping for air you can't get. the room feels boiling hot like you'd just submerged yourself into an active volcano, your shaking hands are hot & clammy with sweat. you kind of want to let gravity do it's thing—by that, you want your legs to crumble underneath you so you can crack your head open & bleed everywhere onto the table that's next to you, full of other items & ramblings & balls of red fucking strings you haven't put up yet. maybe passing out would grant you a few hours of peace. ( IT WON'T. ) but no hospitals. you've already been to the hospital more times than you've ever really thought you'd be in this lifetime. three times in the hospital bed, a handful of times stuck in the waiting room, waiting for news about your friends' conditions. sam's, demetri's, emma's, calla's. the list goes on & on. your friends have gotten hurt so many fucking times because of the karate war.

& your best friend miguel—

@recurrere / miguel stares at you.

something small in you frays further, is tugged apart like a thin thread, & you make no move to repair it. you can't tell what frayed, just that something did at his expression. the look on his face makes you want to throw up.

it makes you want to take a running start towards the top floor of the warehouse. you'll take a swan dive out the window & fall onto the pavement below, so you never have to see that look on your best friend's face ever again.

❛ you're a dumbass. you should have known he was tailing us. this is your fuck-up, not mine. ❜ your Younger Self snarls viciously at you, his tone venomous, & you nod jerkily in agreement, breathing hard. you don't defend yourself. he's totally fucking right, of course. ❛ he's going to tattle on you/me/us to sam, tory, & our miguel. johnny, daniel, sanji, olen, lucienne, our friends & our parents... everyone will fucking know! HE'S GONG TO TELL ROBBY, & we'll fucking lose him forever. it's all BECAUSE OF YOU! ❜ he screams at you, his/your voice warping as he loses his/your human-ness, reverting back towards something much more INHUMAN. his panic certainly isn't helping yours—goddamn vicious emotions-feedback loop.

❝ i know, i know. ❞ you breathe, sounding downright miserable, but acceptive of whatever wrath he feels. ( but miguel hadn't said anything, he hadn't even opened his mouth. you're talking to your Younger Self, & that... that definitely doesn't look good— FUCK! ) ❝ i-i'm sorry. i-i didn't... i just... ❞ the next words die somewhere on the way out of your throat. your fingers almost ball up into fists, but your Younger Self immediately screams, warning you about ruining the evidence, so you throw silver's mugshot onto the table like you're expecting the paper to suddenly explode. it doesn't.

without warning or any indication, you turn FAR too sharply towards miguel suddenly, a smidge too fast to be human. ❝ no, no. no. just stop. don't look at me like that. i'm not... i'm not losing my mind. i'm... not. ❞ then, louder, before he can even get a fucking word in: ❝ i knew this w-was a mistake, letting you step past the fucking d-door. ❞ you bark out a laugh, but it sounds more like a broken sob.

WELL, THIRD, WHICH ONE IS IT? ARE YOU FUCKING LAUGHING OR CRYING? DO YOU KNOW WHERE YOU ARE RIGHT NOW? DO YOU KNOW WHICH FORM YOU'RE WALKING AROUND AS RIGHT NOW?

ARE YOU SURE TERRY SILVER DIDN'T SUCCESSFULLY KILL YOU?

the words just keep tumbling from your mouth, & you sound hysterical. ❝ god, i'm s-so fucking stupid. i... should've know that none of you would fucking understand. mr. larusso probably e-even wouldn't. i'm the o-only one who does, because i've been the only one who's been MURDERED before. YOU DON'T FUCKING GET IT! ❞ you're ranting, screaming in general, all of the emotions you'd shoved down of the past half-year starting to broil over.

breathing hard, your hands reach out to grab miguel by the front of his shirt, yanking your friend closer to you abruptly, your knuckles an alarming shade of white. you don't move to punch him. your crazed, hysteria-filled eyes burn into his, but your voice drops down to a whisper.

the Silver Voice was right—

IT WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER IF YOU HAD FUCKING DIED—

❝ why did you follow m-me, miguel? why... why? ❞

[a-really-cool-blog-name]

Can you tell us more about Lily and the never ending mirror please 🥺

OH HOHO You asked for this! (YES I GET TO INFO DUMP PLEASE ASK ME ABOUT MY OTHER STORIES I HAVE SO MANY OR OTHER QUESTIONS YOU HAVE ABOUT THIS I LOVE TALKING) Without further a due I'm gonna start with the characters!

Lily: Our main girl, we love her. She's 14. A little sassy and very loyal, she windes up in the neverending mirror at the start of the story when on a trip at a fall fair with her family. She is VERY confused and worried right now.

Charles: Anxiety 💯 He's 15. He's been in this place for about two years now. Insecure but VERY protective, caring, and a great big brother to Mary, Speaking of-

Mary: E N E R G Y. She's 11. She's been here for a little less than by like two months. Energetic, hyper active, optimistic, and outgoing, she's voted most likely to yell "echo" in a cave even when she needs to be stealthy. Cares a lot about her friends and family (Well, whatever family she can still visit while in here. Which is just Charles.) and is not going to let them think badly about themselves if she can help it.

Thomas "Archive": Won't tell you his name unless he trusts you, he's worried about Lily "Working for the government" whenever he first meets her, whatever that means. He's 17. Been here for five years. Book lover. Actually has a corkboard with red string connecting pictures. Mostly just Friends with Mary (Kind of unintentional on his part) at the beginning but will later becomes closer to the other characters.

Mabel: Angry and lonely. Her body and mind is twelve at least. She's been here for a while at least. Reason why everyone is here. (If you want more I may do a post specifically about her and the next person)

???: That's weird, I forgot what I was saying! What Character? >:)

(She doesn't have a name yet, oop.) (this is an edit in the future her name is Carol now):A very caring and sweet lady, acts as a mother figure and helps people when- well, I'll get into that later. Most likely to call you sweetheart or honey. She's in her 30's.

(He ALSO doesn't have a name yet): In his late 20's. Kind of rude and grumpy because of this whole situation.

(There are like 20 more people there but I don't have ideas for them lol)

ACTUAL PLOT TIME!

So, The neverending mirror! As the name implies you get pushed by a mysterious hand coming out of a book fall through a mirror to end up there. If you were to walk all the way to the end of this pocket dimension you'd just end up on the other side. This place changes it's inhabitants the longer they're stuck there for, painfully. (Woooo angst and hurt/comfort)

Charles has a black smokey-ness (I don't know how else to describe it)covering half his face and his arm but he doesn't want to worry anyone and doesn't want to acknowledge it's getting worse because he already hates this he can teleport and make portals which is very useful for helping people get around in this place.

Mary has REALLY REALLY good hearing and sharp teeth. Everything can be too loud which hurts sometimes and her teeth ache sometimes and it's hard to chew but it's fine because in Mary's mind she looks SICK and that's all that matters.

"Archive" just... doesn't have legs anymore. He misses them a lot He has this pink purple smoke around where they would be. (It would totally suck if had phantom pain from not having legs anymore ha ha ha) But, on the bright side he can float and make other things float! He never has to worry about getting something off the top shelf again!

Mabel has nothing wrong with her you can see, yet. (Make her angry or she just doesn't have the energy to keep it constantly up and well, that's a different story. She basically has horns made of crumbled up paper and a bookmark tail inspired by no one at all (*COUGH COUGH SCRIPTLESS COUGH COUGH*))

???...

Carol has "Galaxy" hair, eyes, and hands. She can also heal people and she comforts someone whenever a "change" happens, she can't stop it from happening but she can at least help the pain a little.

(He's not a important character in the slightest how could you tell? lol ) Just Snake/lizard features

Lily is fine (physically at least) at the beginning of the story and is scared of it happening to her. She's hoping to find some way out of here before that happens. (Spoiler, she fails at that. Get a third eye, idiot.)

The story is mainly about Lily, Charles, Mary (And Archive but slightly less so) trying to get to the bottom of this place and maybe, just maybe, finally getting out.

(It's also about the tragedy of two siblings from Britain in the past and the pain of no one ever remembering you or being able to truly love you and getting older but never growing up, but that's a post for another day.)

[all-for-geek]

I Lost You Once Chapter 10: Nightmares

Chapter 9

Chapter 11

Word Count: 1,766

Fandom: Alex Bale/Don't Feed the Muse

Warnings: Grotesque Imagery and Fear

Summary: It's been a week since Kim's failed attempt to reach Mark. As they try to figure out their next step, old fears come back to haunt them.

Ramona tapped her tentacle on the desk impatiently. The loading bar on her screen inched along. This video seemed to be uploading even slower than the first one. Ramona didn’t think that that was possible.

It was silly, really. After all the torture, mutilation, and damage that had gone into getting these tapes, the hardest part of the process was sitting in a chair and waiting. To pass the time, Ramona pinned her focus back on the playback of the stolen footage. Maybe if she swept through it for the fifteenth time, she would find something new.

Shock and awe, she didn’t. At least this time she didn’t have to sit through the audio from that poor kid. She heard it enough when she was trapped in the lab. Ramona couldn’t help the little smirk that crept along her face when the video reached her section though. It was a shame she couldn’t find any of her grand escape in the files. Maybe it was in the corrupted footage. 

A part of her wondered if she was playing her hand too much with the warning at the end. When HMF finds these videos, if they haven’t found them already, it will confirm that it’s Ramona sending them. Ramona chuckled. She was starting to sound like Kim. Besides, the loading screen, finally, was done. No way was she sitting through that process again until she had a new video to release.

Ramona closed the laptop and walked out of the guest room that had become her home. On her way to the living room, she heard the rummaging of papers and muttered swears coming from Kim’s office. As Ramona stepped into the doorway, she saw Kim nursing a small prick on the tip of her finger, but her attention was quickly drawn to the massive cork board behind her friend. 

It was a full blown conspiracy board. Everything they knew, or suspected, about Happy Meat Farms was somewhere on it. Kim had even gone out of her way to include red string, connecting various pieces of information and theories. Ramona could help but stand in wonder.

“Wow.”

Kim turned around and shrugged nonchalantly. “I figured that having everything we know in front of us would be useful.”

“You don’t think you overdid it just by a touch,” Ramona asked teasingly. She stepped into the room to inspect the board.

“Don’t act like this is the weirdest thing I’ve done,” Kim countered. “The next video done?” 

“Finally,” Ramona muttered through gritted teeth.

“You know it will keep loading if you look away, right?”

“I know. I just like making sure that-” Ramona cut herself off as she stared at the cork board. She stared curiously at one of the photos. It was of her and Kim when they were kids on the farmland that could become HMF. She hadn’t seen the photo in decades.

“Why is this one on here?” Ramona asked.

“We’re a part of this too,” Kim answered. She bent down to pick up some of the papers on the floor, her hair obscuring her face. “It made sense to have a picture of us up there.”

“Yeah, but why-” Ramona was cut off again. At the top of the board was another picture. One Ramona’s mother had taken of the meteor shower over their farm all those years ago. That wasn’t up there before.

The longer Ramona stared at the board, the more pictures of her childhood appeared. Some she remembered being taken, others not. The older the photos became, the more the girl in them took on the monstrous form Ramona now had. In every photo, Ramona was taking care of the farm. The red string twisted to the point at the center.

The center photo was of the farm house on fire. The little girl, now fully transformed into the monstrous form she now had, stared and watched as the flames grew brighter. They flickered intensely in their monochrome glory. The wind picked up in the room, only just covering up the screams from her old home. 

Ramona’s eyes welled shut from the tears. The wind made the grass poke and prod at her stretched out skin. A reminder, a punishment, for what she had done.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I didn’t know…I didn’t think that it would-”

“There is no need to cry, my child.” That low, maternal voice echoed in Ramona’s head.

Ramona whipped her head around, the red glow of the sky beating down on her. She turned to see Kim still standing behind her. No, not Kim…

Connie’s face was void of any emotion. She opened her mouth, and Ramona recognized the voice that came out.

“You promised that you wouldn’t let us down,” Jared’s voice said. “Don’t let us down. Don’t let us down! DON’T LET US DOWN! DON’T LET US DOWN!” 

The fire spread from the house and encircled the two. Ramona jolted up in her bed screaming.

Kim was in the forest by her house. She was running. She was always running. HMF found them, and they had to run. Ramona and Connie were ahead of her, and she tried not to think about how she was falling behind.

The roots on the ground twisted and writhed as they tried to slow the three down. The creatures behind them howled in excitement. They sounded so much like real dogs, but Kim remembered. They haven’t been dogs for a long time.

The trees were closing in. Ramona and Connie were farther away. Kim’s legs burned with exhaustion. How much longer could she take this?

Kim got her answer as one of the creatures latched onto her leg, dragging her down. Its bite didn’t hurt, but it caused a numbness that began to spread up her thigh. Her scream finally caused Connie and Ramona to turn around.

Connie grabbed onto Kim’s arm and pulled. Kim felt like she was going to be split in two before she was shaken loose. She was forced to gasp in relief as Connie dropped her arm and focused on the other dogs circling around her. 

Kim was quickly losing all feeling in her body. She only realized she was being dragged away when her friends looked smaller in the distance. She used her last ounce of feeling to shift her gaze to Ramona. All she did was stare back.

A distorted scream erupted through the forest. It rescued Kim as her eyes popped open. The bright blue screen of her laptop, still open on her blog, woke her up in the most uncomfortable way. She ran to Ramona’s room.

Connie didn’t need sleep. Not in the way humans did at least. Her physical form would require time to regain its energy, but her mind never truly turned off. She was always aware. Even when she retreated into the deepest parts of her mind (a sensation she assumed was similar to dreaming), she could feel the hardwood floor of the attic beneath and the wind rippling through the thin walls. She tried to remind herself of those physical anchors as she stared at the vision her subconscious had given her.

It started out innocent enough. The blank, white space that had become her retreat over the years. It was calming to stare into the bright void and detach from the world for a while. When needed, she could mold this place for whatever she desired whether it be to reminisce or to solve a problem. Tonight, however, the void shifted against her will.

Her bright haven was sucked into a bottomless black hole. She thought for a moment that the void was broken, but then a singular light flicked to life. It revealed a dingy hallway ending in a red door. 

Connie froze in place. She knew what was behind that door. Even in her subconscious, She radiated power and beauty. A terrible beauty that threatened to suck you in and never let you go. Connie had not thought about Her in a very long time. And never this vividly.

“Come to me…”

Connie was helpless to stop herself as she opened the door.

Mother’s light shone brighter than Connie remembered. She stared in reverence as the weight of Mother’s power pushed Connie to her knees. A bug deep inside her whispered that this was bad. Connie was in danger. But its cries were growing quieter every second spent in Mother’s grace.

“My child, why have you not returned to me?”

The bug wanted to answer. It wanted to say how Mother would have tried to fix her, but would a fixed Connie still be Connie? But Connie knew that this was a bad thought and only hung her head in shame.

“Do not be discouraged, my child. There is always a path back home, no matter how far away you wander. You have done well in gaining the trust of your host. I can see a great path ahead for you, but you mustn’t delay. You have remained in phase one for too long. You must complete the process.”

The small but mighty bug yanked on Connie with all its might. It was enough for her to regain all of her senses before Ramona’s scream pierced the night. Connie winced at the sudden noise.

She creaked open the round window that looked out on the gardens that Kim took such tender care in. She needed to be away from Kim for the time being. For both their sakes.

The scream was reaching its end when Kim burst into Ramona’s room. Between the dark and the hair that covered her body, Kim couldn’t get a good look at her friend, but she could see her heavy breaths and shaking shoulders. Kim sat on the edge of the bed.

“Hey, Ramona, can you hear me?” It took a moment for Ramona to nod her head. Kim slowly reached over and grabbed the part of Ramona’s tentacle she assumed was the hand.

Ramona felt a gentle squeeze. She looked down to see Kim’s hand wrapped around her own. She met Kim’s eyes through her knotted hair. There wasn’t a spec of disgust or horror on Kim’s face. Ramona’s breath began to even out.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Of course,” Kim replied. They were silent for a moment. “Do you want to talk about it?” Ramona shook her head.

The two sat there like that for a while. Neither said anything. The silence was only interrupted by a notification from the phone on the nightstand. Ramona looked at it and her eyes widened.

“Carl’s going live.”

[optikes]

an Australian painter in the streets of New York...

John Firth-Smith (born 1943) Australia

1 White Street # 3 (1982) acrylic on stretched 300gsm rag paper, 104cm x 104cm

2 Black Street # 27 (1982) pulp paper and mixed media, 35cm x 35cm

3 Place, Orientation and Navigation (1983) oil on linen 305.0 x 335.5 cm

4 Winter Rounds (1982)

5-7 the artist connecting dots & lines in New York

8 the artist’s photo-documentation of line and shape on New York streets

9 Marshall Islands stick chart

A   Professor Peter James Smith   from  menziesartbrands.com

In 1981 John Firth-Smith travelled to New York to experience the city, to paint there as a local and allow the powerful New York art scene to wash over him. It was a time in the city (that the writer experienced first-hand) when graffiti clogged West Broadway and adorned the walls of the cross-town subway platforms. The locals were producing abstract paintings that had active, brushy surfaces. The curator Barbara Rose, in 1979, produced a show of such work called American Painting: The Eighties that looked like Abstract Expressionism with a college education, and heralded the rise of art stars Susan Rothenberg (1945- ) and Elizabeth Murray (1940-2007). It was the perfect time and place for Firth-Smith’s painterly surfaces to evolve.

From his studio on 20th Street, Firth-Smith could look down on the first winter snows in the city. In the early morning the snow appeared as a soft white blanket, a shroud that covered everything, but later in the day it was stained and marked by the black tracks of car tyres and the footfalls of passers-by. He became fascinated by the ethereal gothic nature of what he saw: steaming ventilators were often to be found in the middle of busy streets, their smoke stacks rising through the traffic, their warmth contradicting the presence of winter snow and sludge. Such is the sensibility that is vividly painted in Winter Rounds 1982, an attractively-proportioned canvas that effortlessly supports the New York dynamic.

Winter Rounds 1982, is ingrained with the gritty, wintry ambience of the city. Like schematised patterns taken from a subway map, or a diagram drawn in an attempt at directing a stranger, there is a frenetic congested intensity in the work that is broken by dots and splashes of colour.’

This painting shows Firth-Smith’s familiar arabesque line, sweeping through the rising red veils of smoke and graffiti, to challenge the gridded infrastructure of the city. Notions of infrastructure usually revolve around trains, bridges, roads and buildings; however with a different kind of infrastructure in mind, the artist deploys a series of connected straight lines and dots to the heart of his picture. In his monograph on Firth-Smith, writer Gavin Wilson describes how the artist had become fascinated with the Victorian cast iron manhole covers found at street level. They often had elaborate decorative surfaces and had holes drilled through them. Firth-Smith tied small weights to the ends of strings, and dropped the weights down the holes making the strings pull tight between the holes; so the sequences of dots and connected lines were born. He later photographed these microcosms, and like an industrial espionage operative, these found their way into his painting process. Ironically, these patterns are reminiscent of stick charts from the Marshall Islands – structures formed by tying small sticks in a gridded pattern to represent the sea, with shells knotted at the intersections to represent the locations of islands. The sea is never far away from the artist’s concerns.

Only in New York could Firth-Smith have had such fertile exposure to the early stages of neo-expressionism. He embraced many deterministic methods of applying paint with drawn lines and dots, then overpainting, then re-positioning more gridded lines and dots; but these methods always relied on chance and randomness. He painted and repainted layer upon layer. ‘The effaced surfaces of the completed work were like a palimpsest, leaving only the faintest trace of his earlier marks.’  It is the beauty of those effaced surfaces that captures the imagination with their daring trails of snow-lines, and the monochrome expanse of restless white.

search @ www.khanacademy.org    www.smithsonianmag.com

[torley]

This year my fiance and I went with a classic movie... Steven Spielberg's 1982 movie E.T. Unfortunately many people didn't make the connection that my fiance was Elliott but they knew who I was! I did consider him being Elliott and me being Gertie and having a milk crate attached to the front of him with a homemade ET sitting in it but I really wanted to dress as E.T. and he thought it'd be weird if I was the sister Gertie. How we did it Elliott Costume: Sweatshirt: Red hooded sweatshirt (FREE! Left over from last year's costume). Pants: Blue jeans (FREE! Already owned them.) Candy: A large bag of Reese's Pieces ($3 on sale at CVS Pharmacy) E.T. Costume: Head: Foam board ($1 from Dollar Tree). I then used this Flickr member's photo enlarged and printed to a 2 by 1 page (8.5" x 11" paper) to use as a template because they did such an awesome job! I used it as a stencil to trace out the shape of the face and cut it. I cut out holes in the foamboard for me to see through with a knife (approximately where the nose ended up being). I then drew out the features onto the cut foam board. Using a bucket of Crayola Air Drying Clay ($4.96 from Walmart) I molded on raised brows, eyelids, and wrinkles to enhance the features. Unfortunately pretty much all of the clay cracked and was popping off the foam board when it dried so I had to touch up and reinforce everything with hot glue afterwards. I covered the eye holes with white mesh non-slip drawer lining (FREE! Left over from last year's costume making) on the backside by affixing it with tape. I then painted the whole frontside with acrylic paint (FREE paint! I already owned it). After it dried I attached a thick piece of elastic band ($1.44 at Walmart) as a strap with hot glue. Body: I lucked out! The body primarily consisted of a brown hooded cloak that came from a Monk halloween costume. I originally intended on using a brown hoodie/turtleneck and brown pants with a long brown shirt/nightgown on top but this turned out to be the cheapest and most effective option ($2.49 on clearance at Walmart). I still wore brown pants and a brown tanktop underneath that I already owned. The light-up heart was a heart shaped tap-light ($1 at Dollar Tree) that I hotglued red felt (29 cents at A.C. Moore) to the front to give it a red glow. I drilled a hole in the top of it and threaded a string through it to make a necklace to hang underneath the cloak to create the glowing chest effect. I used some sticky-back velcro ($6.47 at Walmart) to attach the hood to the mask when walking around and to close up the neck of the monk cloak more. Hands: Brown work gloves ($1 at Dollar Tree) with a small piece of red felt (29 cents at A.C. Moore) hot glued to the inside tip of one of the index fingers. I then purchased a Energizer Aluminum Pen LED Flashlight ($8.88 on Amazon.com) that I held inside the glove so I could click it on and off to have a light up finger. Feet: I wore brown sneakers (FREE! Already owned them) and created "3 toe shoe covers" from a brown t-shirt ($5 on sale at A.C. Moore) that I thought I was going to use to make a 3D body until I got the monk cloak. I traced out a widened outline of my shoes on the shirt and drew out 3 pointed toes. I cut it out and sewed the outter toe edges. I then stuffed the toes with Polyfil (FREE! Left over from a prior year). I attached a thick piece of elastic band ($1.44 at Walmart) as a strap with hot glue so I could slip the front end of my sneaker into the toe portion and have the elastic strap go around the heel of my sneaker to hold my 3-toed feet on. Total Cost of both costumes together: $35.53 [$3 for Elliott, $32.53 for E.T.]

[spring-picnics]

♡ cookies - send me a song and a character/ship and i will write you a blurb.

Paper rings- Taylor swift

Remus lupin

a/n: inspired by my biggest inspirations, my friends :) @cilantro8239 @copyofonlyangel28 @himarose @ga1axystar and i know you guys headcanon remus as gay and he is in love with sirius, but my heart belongs to a bi!remus. aid the delusions for a bit so you can enjoy my writing bc it was wholly inspired by you guys <3 also i didn't proofread it so excuse any mistakes. i also don't really like the ending, so just stick to the middle, shes juicy.

Paper rings ♡ remus lupin x reader

you were absolutely losing it in arithmancy. it was insane that sirius had managed to get all of you to take a glorified maths class, but he did, and now, you were here with all of your friends, absolutely bored out of your mind.

james was doodling something on lily's hand, sirius was doodling something on james' hand, peter was trying to remember the movements to apple on a stick, you were silently watching everything, and remus was writing and simultaneously folding paper.

your eyes focused in on remus' hands. harsh scribbles of rushed handwriting, followed by gentle but strong creases. he was usually so pragmatic, but as you watched him now, you understood that it was just a cover up for something fierce and similar to the altruistic version of him you meet before every full moon.

you could get lost in knowing him, and unbeknownst to you, he could get lost in knowing you; countless handpicked bouquets lie flattened in a small paper journal under his bed, in between pages of 3am realisations and love letters. he's bewildered by you in a way you could never even begin to comprehend. his whole existence is a love letter to you; every waking moment he spends is an ineluctable confession of something so profound, he doesn't even have a clue as to how it happened.

it could have been that very first day, when you were both waiting to be sorted. he was anxious and worrying, just like he always has been, and you were caring and gentle, just like you've always been. or maybe it was the night after you found out about his dilemma; he didn't know that someone could care about him like that. hundreds and thousands of moments where all he can think about is his love for you.

"hey remus! are those rings???" and suddenly, james has awoken the both of you from a shared quintessential lull.

two small paper rings hang from his fingers, and before you know it, sirius is between the two of you reciting wedding vows as if it was his birthright while james starts mimicking wedding bells. remus begins to anticipate a red flush all over his freckles as sirius makes crude comments: "we all know the three rings. engagement ring, wedding ring and suffer-ring." and lily just watches, half judgementally like she always does, and the other half in somewhat awe that her insane friend is now an acting minister.

remus is still lost in a blur, james is giggling and clapping (he wholeheartedly supports the matrimony), lily is trying to work on her report, while also trying to make a sarcastic comment every now and then, and sirius is asking you if you take remus' hand in marriage.

"do you promise to take care of your husband through sickness and in health?"

"always," you respond with added flair.

"the line is i do??? maybe i should be the bride instead."

when remus finally comes to, you've agreed to be his wife and james hasn't stopped talking about how this is a match made in heaven and sirius is telling you both to kiss. so he does what he does in all awkward situations: freeze. and so you do what you do in all awkward situations: make the whole scenario 10x more awkward by attempting to carry him bridal style, making the whole legal contract "thing" completely binding in sirius and james' eyes.

when you finally manage to leave class, you two are in seemingly connected, strung together by an invisible string called sirius black's persistence and james potter's support, the true foundations of any healthy marriage.

if he can't profess his undying love for you, he will just have to wear a small paper ring for the rest of his life (and let sirius and james make fun of him).