#the amount I like him just increased exponentially

[wehaveagathering]

also tk spotted wearing a neck guard during the game

[girlleon]

B-E-H-A-V-E, ARREST US! (ITALIAN MOBSTER, LOOKING SO PRECIOUS!)

leon kennedy x fem attorney reader

warnings: unwanted advances, car crash, ummm he breaks into your house… slight misogyny in his internal monologue? ooc leon too. Obsessive behavior if you squint. copious amounts of pet names because he’s on some shit. more unreliable narration. title taken from kill v maim by grimes

an: this was inspired by the courtroom scene in the dark knight sorry hope you enjoy :)

Leon Kennedy looked like he was having the time of his life as he was yanked out of the prison’s bus, smiling smugly as he was led along to the courthouse. Some cops had to push the press out of the way as they tried to shout questions at him, shouting at the press to get back and clear the way. You wouldn’t think a criminal trial would get such a big production, and yet. The head of the Salazar crime family gets caught on RICO charges and the press goes insane.

He doesn’t get a glance at you as he’s ushered in for the first day of cross-examinations, chains around his wrists and ankles jangling.

The presiding judge arrives and all stand before sitting. The charges are read—hundreds of counts of extortion, racketeering, witness intimidation, obstruction of justice, et cetera. Then, he’s brought up to the witness stand. Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God, yadda, yadda. “I do.” He wears that smug smile like the Armani suit he chose today, sitting with a bang of the gavel.

And aren’t you just so cute, in your little skirt suit and button-up shirt. A cutie like you shouldn’t be in a courtroom, you should be in his bed. What a cute little Assistant District Attorney, he should’ve looked you up when he had the time, he didn’t know the DA’s office hired such adorable looking little things.

You look visibly uncertain when you catch him eyeing you up and down, looking back at the big bad DA—Redfield or something—who sits at the table looking extremely unamused. “Please state your full name for the record.” You tell him, thumbing through the little manila folder you’ve got in your hands, heels clicking on the floor.

He leans forward into the microphone with a small smirk. “Leon Scott Kennedy.” He’s not listening to a word you’re saying as you pace in front of him, only clueing in when you look at him expectantly, eyes bright behind your glasses. “Can you repeat the question?”

You look so cute when you frown in irritation, he might just eat you up. “I asked if you can explain the thousand percent exponential increase in your earnings in just one month.” You fiddle with the papers, eyes flicking off to the side. “Exhibit ‘C’ in front of you.”

“Ah.” He looks down and spots the cute little graph, wondering if you made it. “My investments turned out swimmingly.”

“Your investments.” You repeat flatly. Cute little habit you have of parroting him. “Who did you invest with?”

“Oh,” He waves a hand blithely, “a new company, you wouldn’t know them and don’t need to worry your pretty head about it.”

You freeze, not sure what to do as he flirts with you so openly.

The judge gives him an irritated look and says, “I’ll remind the defendant to remain civil.”

Leon shrugs it off, he’s made of iron, he can handle this little bit of pressure, it’s good for him anyway. And he loves a challenge.

You clear your throat a little nervously, leafing through the notes you have. Aw, your little hands are shaking minutely, he bets if he held them, they’d shake more. “This company has no record of existing before those investments.”

Leon blinks. See? The pressure’s good for him. He gives you a slight smile as he recalibrates, linking his hands together in his lap. “Is that so? Then where would it come from?”

“Why don’t you tell the court?” Comes out a little short and his lawyers object on the grounds of it being combative. He watches you count to ten before you calm down enough to nod to the judge when he tells you to tread carefully. “I’ll rephrase: I’m hoping you can tell us.”

Leon leans so close to the microphone that his lips nearly touch it. “I think you mean, you’re hoping I can tell you.”

Your jaw tenses, and that can’t be good for your teeth, a pretty thing like you shouldn’t be so stressed. Unexpectedly, you go with it, shrugging blithely before you say, “Sure.” Your move, is what you really mean.

He grins widely, amused and delighted all at once. “I had my friends do a little digging for me to find a suitable investor for our… money.”

“Uh-huh.” You shift a little, your confidence coming back. “What made you trust this investor?”

He comes to a pause—he hadn’t been expecting that. “What do you mean, counselor?”

You grin just this side of smugly at getting him slightly off kilter. “This investor has no prior portfolio of successes or failures. How could you trust them if you have no background?”

Leon’s chains jingle as he spreads his palms with a shrug. “Investing is risky. And everyone has to start from somewhere, Tesla wasn’t built in a day.”

The jury and gallery murmur before the judge bangs his gavel for silence.

He watches your face harden in annoyance. “A bit of an unnecessary risk, no?”

“Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?” He throws out to see you confused, your head cocking at him as your brows furrow. You stare at him for a good few minutes and he can’t resist leaning in with a slight smirk and asking, “Cat got your tongue?”

The judge reminds him again to behave, if he does that again, he’ll be taken to jail in contempt of court. Oh, but that would be fun, wouldn’t it? It’d be an inconvenience for him, but to see the little look on your face as he’s walked away… he’ll keep that in mind.

You clear your throat and he watches you swallow, throat bobbing. “What made you choose to throw your lot in with a company that didn’t exist before the very month before your earnings increased?” He can practically see you telling him to dig a hole, any hole.

Leon shrugs. “Gut feeling. And my friends had given me good things from them.”

“How come their investments never showed up in their portfolio?” He watches you try to contain your glee. You’re too cute when you’re trying not to look too happy and remain professional, he bets if you won—which you won’t, he’s made sure of that—you’d be skipping down the courthouse steps.

Leon pauses for a long while, eyeing you as he considers all the possible answers—I never asked, why don’t you ask them, it was under the table—before he settles on, “My mistake, counselor, I’ll clarify: I’d meant that my friends had heard good things about them through the grapevine.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” You say, eyes narrowing slightly. “I’ll repeat myself: that company—CAPCOM Industries—doesn’t have a prior portfolio of investments, good or bad. How could they have heard good things if there’s no previous work, if they don’t even exist before the month when your earnings went up?”

The defense objects on the basis of badgering, which the judge overrules.

Damn, you’re good, and foxy in all the ways that can be meant. Which leaves him with one option. He smirks and leans into the microphone, maintaining eye contact for a stilted amount of time. Eventually, he says, “I plead the fifth.”

Oh, beautiful. You couldn’t have given him a better reaction. Your jaw drops open and you stare at him for a long while as he sits back against the witness chair.

He’s cross-examined for a few hours before you’re all adjourned for a two hour long recess.

Cross examinations go on for five more days before closing statements come, this trial having gone on for a month at this time.

Defense goes first, blathering mindlessly about how Leon has a right to spend and earn his money how he chooses, on and on. He tunes it out, more interested in watching you pull your silly looking peacoat off and hang it over the back of the chair, dressed in a cute little button up and slacks set, your hair gathered at the back of your head. How cute, he bets they’d look cuter on his floor. Corny, but he had to use it.

Oh, the DA’s making you give the closing statement. That’s just cruel, you’re just a little creature and should be protected. To him, it just looks like a little girl trying to walk in daddy’s shoes.

You get up and shift around the edge of the prosecution’s table, your notes in hand. Wow, you really fill out those black slacks so well, he’ll have to thank whatever God is out there for building you like that.

He tunes in when you say: “You all have had the chance to hear many things over these past few weeks.” Your hands shake slightly, cue cards creasing at the corners. “That Leon Kennedy is being wrongfully prosecuted, that we have no right to poke into a man’s business and how he makes his money.”

He watches you pace in front of the jury, loafers whispering on the floor. That’s a shame, he likes you in heels, really makes your legs look long.

“You also have heard testimonies about how police have been hindered from doing their very jobs for fear of one bogeyman. You’ve heard testimonies of people he’s sold drugs to in front of NA meetings. On and on.” He watches you turn around and meet his eyes, tongue darting over your lower lip. He swallows when he sees that, stomach flipping. That’s embarrassing, he’s a grown man, he doesn’t get butterflies.

“When you take all that away though, all that remains is one man, this man.” You turn back around and point at him behind you. “No man is above the law, especially not one who terrorizes our city. We must take it back from him. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, for your time.”

The judge waves a hand and the bailiff takes Leon out of the courtroom to wait out the verdict in his jail cell. He maintains eye contact with you the entire time he’s dragged out of the courtroom, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

The next day, all parties are brought to court to hear that the jury is deliberating. The next day, the same. The day after that and the day after that are the same. The entire next week, the jury is still sequestered and deliberating.

Until you wake up one day, a pit in your stomach as you dress for court and wade through the paparazzi and news outlets on your way into the courthouse.

All rise as the judge presiding enters, all remaining standing when the jury spokesperson finally answers the judge. “We’re deadlocked, your honor.” She says solemnly, “We’ve been deadlocked for weeks, nobody will budge.”

Your stomach drops all the way down to mingle with your intestines, your knuckles blanching at your side.

The judge sighs and looks down. “Then I’ve no choice but to declare the state of New York versus Leon S. Kennedy a mistrial. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, for your time. Case dismissed.” He bangs the gavel with a sense of finality.

Poor baby, you look a little like you have to sit down when you hear that. Leon shakes the hands of his lawyers, smiling like the cat that got the canary before he looks over at you.

Even worse, you can’t retry him with these charges because it’d qualify as double jeopardy. The bailiff contemptuously uncuffs him and he rubs his wrists, watching you stand there with your mouth agape, looking positively destroyed at not being able to put him behind bars. He bets you look just a little like that after being fucked silly.

Jeez, little thing, you don’t need to look so damn sad about it, he’s sure he’ll slip up at some point and you can have your fun with trying to prosecute him and igniting your little cat-and-mouse-game.

He makes a point of waggling his fingers at you as he walks by. “Don’t be so sad, cupcake.” Leon says blithely, sauntering out of the courtroom like he owns the damn place. “Better luck next time.” He calls out, a smug laugh echoing off the marble as he walks away, the doors shutting behind him firmly.

You’re at the DA’s office for the rest of the day, trying to get the files in order for the archives because a lawyer’s office is a little like a church—you never get rid of anything that may be important, no matter how old it may be.

You’re in there for a long while before you go out to the parking garage around two thirty in the afternoon, your car flanked with paps. It takes a while until they let you go, having to lay on the horn until they scramble out of the way and you’re free to go. You’re most of the way home when you notice a black SUV following you. Your hands flex on the wheel as you speed up just a little, taking a right turn to test your suspicions.

They follow.

Could be just a fluke. You take another right turn.

They follow again.

Could be another fluke and really awkward, anybody ever tell you that you’re paranoid? You take a third, then fourth right turn, the SUV following you the entire time.

Okay, so you’re not paranoid, and you’re being followed. You take every almost legal action you can, too caught up in the SUV behind you to note the SUV aiming right for you on your left.

The cars collide and your air bags go off, knocking you unconscious and giving you a bloody nose. Thank God you’re not awake, otherwise, you’d notice that the driver gets out of the car to see how you’re faring before speeding off.

You come to when the paramedics are there and trying to stabilize you, your neck in that stupid looking brace as they ask you questions you already know the answer to, hauling your sorry ass into the ambulance after gathering your bag and hightailing it to the nearest hospital.

You’re given two of morphine as you’re kept alive long enough for them to cart you to the hospital. You’re in and out of it as the EMTs give the hospital the details of you being t-boned, loss of consciousness at the scene, pupils equal and active, and so on and so forth. The doctor asks for your name and you give it a little sluggishly, but correctly. They work on you in a trauma room, x-raying and suturing up the cuts on your face, feeling for any fractures on your nose and eyes and any abdominal discomfort.

When they deem you lucky you weren’t hurt further, you ask if they can take off that ridiculous neck brace—you’ve gotta fight them for it, but they acquiesce because you’re so good at arguing your case. When you’re taken to a hospital room to wait for the cops, you call your secretary and update her on the situation.

Are you okay? No. You rather liked that stupid car.

No, like, physically. Yeah, you somehow only got away with a couple cuts, bruises, a mild concussion, et cetera.

Are you safe? Probably.

Do you need anything? A change of clothes and something greasy in the morning, they want to keep you overnight for monitoring.

I’ll get some flowers for you! And a card! No thanks, that’s not necessary, the pollen makes your ears itch.

The police eventually make their way up and you give your statement, more and more irritated when they see it fit to try and interrogate you when you’re not under arrest, but that’s cops for you.

You have a fitful sleep because those lights are always on and your bedroom is usually kept dark, you like honoring your circadian rhythm. Which is why you’re awake at seven when you receive a call from an unknown number.

“This is the assistant district attorney speaking.” Your voice is a little scratchy from lack of water, you have to turn and clear your throat.

He chuckles on the other end of the line, the sound making you freeze. “Did I interrupt your beauty sleep, counselor?”

You straighten up. “How did you get this number?”

“I have my ways.” Leon replies casually, “How are you feeling?”

“Shitty.” Mild concussion, one major cut and two minor cuts on your face, a minorly broken nose and bruised ribs and sternum, but you’re fine.

He laughs on the other end of the line, warm and… affectionate? “Such language so early in the morning.” He tuts, his sheets rustling as he shifts.

You grind your teeth and count to five before you respond, holding your phone so tight you think you hear the case creak. “You hit me with a car.”

He scoffs, shifting his grip on his phone. “I certainly did not.”

“Then you had your underlings do it.”

He laughs again and you almost want to throw your phone. “You’re sharp.” Indirect confirmation, this entire conversation is inadmissible in court. Motherfucker. “I like you, you know.”

You pause, anger momentarily dissipating. “What?”

“I like you.” You can damn near hear his smile.

You pause for long enough that he wonders if the line went dead. When he checks, his phone still has that timer counting how long you two have been on the phone: edging onto five minutes. He waits for a little longer, eventually starting to feel uncertain when you repeat, “You like me.”

He laughs, just slightly tinged with relief. “Yeah. So? Is that so hard to believe?”

Coming from the man who arranged for you to be in a car accident? Yes, absolutely. “Yes.” You say shortly, eyes wandering around your hospital room. “Absolutely.”

He tuts on the other end of the line, more rustling coming through as he shifts and gets out of bed. You never would’ve taken him for an early riser, you thought he was the sort of guy to laze around until the last possible moment—but then again, you’ve known a lot of drug dealers in your time and not all of them were lazy. Dealing drugs, apparently, requires a lot of hard work, regardless of whether it’s street operations or organized crime like Leon fucking Kennedy makes most of his money. “That’s a shame, I was hoping I could take you out.”

And apparently, he has a fondness for double entendres, you just know he’s holding back a cackle. But even onions have layers.

“Not happening.” You feel immensely satisfied when he pauses this time, holding back a smirk of your own.

“May I ask why not?” He asks eventually, voice carefully level. You get the feeling that he’s never been rejected before.

You pause in turn this time, befuddled as to why he’s even asking why not. There’s many things: he’s evil, you’re on opposite sides of the law, you don’t even like him one bit, it’s a conflict of interest—“You know why.”

“No,” He says firmly, surprising you. Okay, maybe you can see why he became the Don. “I want to hear it in your own words. Why not?”

It’s your turn to pause, staring at your phone as the seconds tick by. “You’re a mob boss. Why would I want to go out with you?”

“Why don’t you?” He presses, voice hardening before he reminds himself that he catches more honeys with fly, rather than vinegar, or whatever the stupid saying is.

You hang up on him and put your phone on do not disturb when he calls you back. You’ve got a caffeine headache and a concussion headache and it’s too fucking early to deal with this bullshit. Your secretary finally gets over here around eight thirty with a change of clothes hanging from her arm and a bag of appropriately greasy food and a coffee for you. She pauses in the doorway when she sees you, brows furrowing in concern. “Jesus. You look like you got hit by a car.”

You frown at her, setting the clothes at your feet when she comes closer, passing you everything you asked for. Food gets eaten and burnt coffee gets drank first, grimacing with every sip. You can’t change yet, still hooked up to all these monitors. A doctor comes in at nine-oh-five sharp, flipping through your chart before he asks the perfunctory questions and declares you safe to go home—gotta love the American medical system. A nurse unhooks you from the monitors and gently drags the IV needle out of your vein, giving you privacy to change.

You’re summarily sent home with a concussion care sheet and strict orders not to return to work for two weeks. You’ll stay home for a week at absolute maximum, but it’s the thought that counts. You and your secretary take her car to your apartment because yours is totaled and you argue with your insurance most of the way there. When you get out, she stops you with a gentle grab of your wrist. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come up with you?” She asks, teeth digging into her lower lip.

“I’m a big girl.” You snort, gently removing your wrist from her hold. “You left the key in the right place, right?”

“Yeah…” She says reluctantly, left leg bouncing.

“Okay, then. See you in a week.” You get out of the car the rest of the way and she calls back, “Two weeks!” Before speeding off. You make your way to the apartment building—one of the most secure in the city—and buzz yourself in, walking through the lobby and garnering a few stares as you walk over to the elevator and press the button for your floor. You lean against the wall for support, pressing a hand to your aching head.

You sigh once you’re inside your penthouse, toeing off your shoes and hanging your bag on a hook by the door, trudging to your room and collapsing on your bed. It takes you three days of medical leave for you to become officially restless, you hold out for the next four days before you come in on Monday to your desk covered in Get well soon! Bouquets. You pause and stare at it, then note a giant teddy bear holding a heart that reads: You’re bear-y cute!

No note for the flowers or teddy bear, but you know who they came from.

You have a normal month of work, discarding the bouquets Leon sends every damn day. Just how much money is he throwing away trying to woo you? Eh, just a penny in the bucket; when you were gathering evidence for that RICO case against him, you saw how much he made in a month, easily your yearly salary.

You come home from a long day—your office is litigating another for a miscarriage of justice, you haven’t come home in days—sighing as you hang your coat and bag up, freezing when you hear a gun clicking. “A little cliche, isn’t it?” You move a little slower as you toe off your shoes, kicking them over by the shoe rack. “The click of a gun as a greeting, I mean.”

Leon laughs, then puts the safety back on the gun, setting it on your coffee table. “Why not have a little theatre in your life?” He eyes you as you turn on the lights, revealing you, consummate professional in your adorable looking slacks and button-up shirt. “Anybody ever tell you that you fill those out really nicely?” He says, eyes on your thighs and ass as you walk over to the kitchen.

You grunt in disgust, pulling your hair down from where it was gathered at the top of your head. “How did you get in?” You ask as you fill up a glass with tap water. Really, you’d rather go for a mixed drink or some wine, but you don’t trust him enough to drink in front of him. This is really just the horseshit icing on the bullshit cake, to be honest.

“Pfft.” Leon waves a hand. “Key on top of the door. You should’ve moved it after your assistant came and got you clothes the day you got out of the hospital.” He shifts, long legs crossing. “How are you feeling, by the way?”

“Better.” You say shortly, keeping space and the counter between you two. “It’s amazing that I wasn’t more hurt.” You walked around with a butterfly bruise across your nose for a while and the DA had to keep you out of court until it cleared up, but you’re fine.

He smirks, pink mouth pulling up and to the side. “Yes, quite a miraculous thing.” He sighs and gets up, buttoning his suit. Is that what he thinks real people dress like? Jesus.

“I find that I rather like you alive, not dead.” He says conversationally, looking over at you and really taking the chance to drink you in, brows twitching together when he sees how tired you look.

That’s not how you’re supposed to look, you’re supposed to look bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and all excited. “You look tired, bunny.” He tells you, leaning against the table.

You stare at him for a while, head cocked to the side. “Work.”

“Ah.” He kisses his teeth, eyeing you up and down shamelessly. “There are easier ways to make money, sweetheart.”

“I love my job.”

He laughs, soft and deep. You shift a little from foot to foot, nails tapping against the counter.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, babydoll.” He waves a hand and watches you bristle, shoulders stiffening and drawing up. “You can’t offer a guest a drink? I’m parched.”

You frown at him. “Guests are invited in. You broke in.”

He leans over and swipes the half full cup from you and turns it so his mouth can touch the imprint of lipstick you left behind. “No sign of forced entry.”

You’re a little too shocked to say or do anything. “Because you used the key.” You watch his throat bob with a swallow.

“Tomato, tomato.” He sets the cup down and gives you a debonair smile. “Anyway, counselor, I thought it’d been a while since we talked.”

You stare at him for a while. “And you can’t get yourself arrested instead?”

He laughs a little louder and your hands fist on the countertop. He strolls to your door and opens it up. “Where’s the fun in that? Get some sleep, counselor.” He calls out, door shutting behind him and rattling the pictures on the walls.

You wouldn’t think it after seeing him on the witness stand, but he’s got a dramatic streak the size of you.

Leon smirks when he sees you walk over to the holding cells, an unexpectedly stern look on your face. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this, cutie.” He drawls, head cocking as he looks you up and down, eyebrows raising.

“So you took my advice about getting yourself arrested.” You fold your arms and lean against the wall.

He gives a dashing—and a little smug—smile, eyes flicking up from where they ogle your chest. “And you can prosecute me again, I love watching you work.” He stands up from the bench, wandering over to the bars. He leans forward, hands wrapping around two as his head cocks, still grinning like a fat cat who got the canary.

You don’t move from where you’re leaned against the wall. “You’d be wasting the court’s time over a speeding ticket. The DA doesn’t take those cases.”

“Ah, not a speeding ticket, beautiful.” He uses pet names so easily. He leans in as if to tell a secret—you lean in too, straightening up slightly. “What if I’d said I turned myself in?”

Your stomach drops. “I’d say that you’re a liar.”

“Ouch, counselor.” His smirk remains on his face. “I’m many things, including a bogeyman, but I don’t lie.”

Your face warms. He really remembers your closing statement? You’ve had two cases every month since then. “Legally, financial fraud counts as lying. False advertisement, for another.”

He scoffs, blue eyes rolling before he shakes his head at you. “Where’s your sense of fun?”

You were just joking, but telling him that takes all the fun out of it. “Why turn yourself in?”

“Easy, counselor.” His—clean, warm, smooth—hands flex around the bars. “I’m not on the stand yet.”

“I’m not examining you.”

His dimples show, eyebrows jumping up as he stares at you like you put the stars in the sky. “Touché.”

You can’t prosecute him anyway because of a legal hiccup; somehow, you think he meant for that to happen, to walk into the police station, knowingly not be read his rights and to confess anyway, thus violating his third or fourth amendment, that parts not your deal, it’s the stupid cowboy cop’s fault.

You’re there, trying to do a good impression of disappointment as the judge informs everyone that the case is dropped, yet again putting these charges—and all he admitted to—inadmissible under, yet again, double jeopardy.

Leon, for his part, looks pleasantly surprised, then a little quizzical as his cuffs are unlocked and he’s set free. He catches you by the arm after lurking by the door for you to come out, dragging you to an alcove. “I was read my rights.” He tells you, blond brows furrowed as he boxes you in.

“Were you?” You ask innocently, head cocking like a confused puppy—Leon almost wants to kiss you for it. “It wasn’t on the recording of the procedures.”

He stares at you; you watch him with interest as the cogs turn behind his eyes. Understanding clicks in place and you pat his chest twice.

“I’ll see you next time, cupcake.” You tell him, close to skipping away, you’re so giddy. He watches your hips sway as you walk away, lower lip between his teeth before a smirk crawls across his face. He walks away whistling, scuffing his dress shoes on the floor.

[unadulteratedsoulsweets]

A DC X DP IDEA # 20

Star born child.

Imagine dis…

Ever since we were a child, we often would ask our parents where stars came from as we gazed along the night sky. Some parents would reply they were just fireflies that got stuck when they flew over, some say those are little children playing as mother moon guards over them, and some say that they were our ancestors watching over us as we slept.

But you know what I said? I said that stars were made by a little elfish young boy with stark white hair, white pupil-less glowing eyes, freckles that looked like constellations, wearing a black and silver accented princely outfit, puffy white shoes that had little bells on it that seemed to giggle each step and a cape that looked like the galaxy. He loved the space so much that he created stars from the smallest of them to the largest and brightest one up in the night sky.

…

Some JL members were drifting along space inside their space vehicle as they had just finished another mission that required them in space. Despite being mainly Earth’s exclusive protectors they have made alliances and friends were, made along the way with many different species, yet they also made enemies from space from the countless people they have overthrown or defeated in space just by being fleshy humans.

As they were drifting into space Superman couldn’t help but still sense a deep feeling of longingness and awe every time he looked into the deep abys despite looking at the same view since the JL space HQ was made. Longing for what could be his planet’s history and culture that could be in one of the endless planets and stars that were present today and in awe at the vast space that kept expanding for more planets and life that were to be made.

…

Flash was the first to notice something was amiss when it was his turn to watch over the controls to ensure a safe and smooth travel back to Earth.

He was just watching the endless void when he began hearing some sounds resembling a child’s giggle out of utter glee and the ringing of bells. Now remember he is a man of science and will refuse any supernatural action despite working with the greatest magicians Earth has to offer. The giggles seemed to continue as the lights kept flickering out without any interference and both sets of sounds kept echoing and bouncing off the walls, he kept hearing a creak on metal behind him, and he kept “misplacing” some snacks and the mug he just placed next to him, it kept him all night to the point that by the next day, Green Lantern had found him slouched by the controls muttering to him about a devil child haunting the league as he felt being mocked him as he kept looking at his back.

…

Cyborg is the next one to hear the mysterious sounds but instead of the giggles he unfortunately teased the Flash about but a static noise-like sound filtered his ears.

Ever since his accidents he has noticed that his hearing and eyesight have increased exponentially due to the machines that upgraded two of his senses.

At first, he thought he was picking up a foreign radio signal/ message between two planets that have a rather large frequency but when that signal began interfering with his sight and hearing he knew there was something wrong. There are very few frequencies that can really interfere with his sense since his accident and now powers/ abilities originated from an explosion of the mother box. He cannot keep himself awake due to the amount of static that invades his hearing and sight he later lost consciousness and suddenly awoke in one of their med bays.

…

Batman was the first one to see their mysterious haunting of a child. Despite barely believing the Flash due to his history of pranking and history of delirious muttering whenever he watched too many horror films as well had Cyborg being grilled for every detail he can remember before he passed out, he will never admit it to anyone that he had frozen the moment he saw it.

He was just making his rounds around the space shuttle of the JL when he heard a child’s giggles accompanied by the light giggles of bells. He is immediately on guard as they are in the middle of space if anything snuck in it can’t be good news.

As he was surveying the area, he found his gaze towards a small child. A small elfish little child with stark white hair, white pupil-less shining eyes, constellation-like freckles, dressed in a black and silver accentuated royal attire, and puffy white shoes with little bells on them. He seems to have not noticed him Batman keeps quiet and begins observing, the said mystery child is still giggling without a care in the world when he suddenly pauses and takes a look at a seeming space to his right. Frowning as if there was something wrong the child suddenly jerked up as if he had a bright idea, slowly raising his arms and began to move his arms in such fluid motion as if he was creating something but what? Suddenly a large bright invaded in front of him forcing him to close his eyes at the assault of light. When he gains his vision again, he sees the mysterious boy looking all happy and proud with the way he puffed up his chest as well as the bright smile on his face. As he turns to the boy’s direction which was before a space was now replaced by a newly made small dwarf star that he was positive wasn’t there moments ago, brightly twinkling. Batman was so engrossed in what had just transpired that as he focused on the said star he noticed movement, at the corner of his eyes he saw the mysterious boy had spotted him and immediately disappeared into the vast void of space.

…

The next day he held the meeting about the said mysterious boy, you can hear the Flash boasting he was right to the other members about having the space shuttle haunted when Batman noticed both Martian Manhunter and Green Lantern stutter and look of disbelief in their faces and promptly asked what was that. Martian Manhunter went first, when Batman described the said child it reminded him of the Martian’s ancient texts, history, books, and scrolls if you will. That said child was said to be their god as in the past they had been on the brink of extinction due to the barrage of asteroids heading their way, as he had appeared to save them and he also gave them the knowledge to advance by themselves. Martian Manhunter ended his statement that he had heard it when he was just a Martian youngling as it was taught to every young Martian that their great guardian was watching them in space. Green Lantern explained that what Batman had seen was something that the Green Lantern Corps was supposed to be the only people who knew of his existence. He had shown himself a few times when a Lantern was in a precarious situation or on the verge of it some lanterns have witnessed him creating a planet or stars depending on which in his will, and some have seen the said boy expand the universe to his will as if we were taking a stretch. The guardians in the Lantern Corps have tried multiple times to guard the said boy as it was obvious that he some kind of ethereal being creating life and other celestial beings but he always disappeared so it became some sort of an ongoing mission to protect and watch over the boy whenever one of the lanterns spot him.

…

Danny was enjoying his ghostly life, after years he had been neglecting his primary obsession which is his fascination with the celestial bodies in favor of his secondary obsession of protection whenever he had stayed on earth it had felt like it was caging him, suffocating himself and his core, especially when he became the Ghost King. Writing reports all day as well as ensuring the zone was up and running, he had felt himself getting more exhausted by the say. So, when Clockwork had gone to him and told him to practice his primary obsession as a form of taking a vacation Danny was ecstatic.

He created countless stars, from the largest of them all form the smallest of dwarfs. He had created solar systems created a multitude of planets and let life thrive on the barren place. He let the vast space be his canvas for his obsession, he let the stars he formed and created form different constellations.

If only those green guys stopped being so stalkerish every time they encountered him, he thought that he had escaped the whole stalker gig when he became the Ghost King better yet when he escaped the life of being a superhero.

...

Now he can't help but keep looking at the floating space shuttle as if he had just gone to a new space museum, Danny appeared to sense some interesting people in the shuttle. People who had been touched by death, people whom he felt a slight connection with, and other species from different planets.

…

PS: If someone out there wanted to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

[yowlthinks]

Let's talk about Shax and Furfur

I don't see a lot of discussion about them, but I think these two are worth paying attention to.

Shax is one of those demons who is not inherently evel, she is more of a "make the best of the current situation" person, she is trying to make a career not by stepping on others, but by forming alliances. She offers a mutually beneficial alliance to Crowley, a traitor hunted by hell, but she's like, that's fine, I can try and work with him, I have a lot to learn from him. Formally, Crowley does not agree to an information exchange with Shax, but nonetheless he is talking to her: helping her fix the boiler, telling a bit more about the Earth, telling her that they'll work on her sarcasm recognition skills next time. They are not friends, but Shax tries to keep it as civil as it can possibly be.

And then there is Furfur, with whom Shax is at least a friendly colleague, but more likely they know each other well and are actually friends. This alliance is formed in the same way of doing favours (and we know who else formed their alliance at least in part based on favours). Note, she never actually breaks her promise to Furfur, and she tries to pull him along where she can: she promises to get him an audience with the Dark Council and she does, she is sympathetic when it does not go well. He shows up in the bookshop, so he did get a bit higher in the hierarchy, but also note how it is Furfur pointing out the opportunity for Shax, while Dagon (who you would think would be the one to be promoted by Beelzebbub) just stands there.

If Shax takes over the throne, with Furfur as her close alliance, this opens a good setup for Crowley to come in and influence them. He might bring in the news that Heaven is planning a war to erase them from the book of life, or that if there is a second coming the amount of soul-processing workload might increase exponentially! The point is, both Shax (already offered him beneficial alliance) and Furfur ("We've done loads together!") would be open to Crowley's influence, and they might indeed want to let Earth continue its existence.

I suppose we shall have to wait and see, but I think we will yet see more of these two

[sleepy-writes-stuff]

DP X DC WRITING PROMPT #14

(Had this idea on the brain as soon as I woke up this morning. This prompt is basically going off of the idea that the ghost zone is the dimension that connects all dimensions.)

(#) = Notes at the end of post

✦

Living in Technicolor

When Danny gets zapped by the portal and brought back half alive, his vision is forever changed. He doesn't know what caused it, just that ever since the accident, his sight has been split into three different perspectives.

1. His home dimension

2. The ghost zone/invisible spectrum

3. Another dimension entirely

He had originally been able to peer into more than three perspectives directly after his accident, but that resulted in his brain more or less short-circuiting from all the extra information and putting him in a week long coma. Still, even with the decreased load, the amount of information that's being filtered through his eyes and into his brain from three different plains of existence leaves him legally blind in his original reality and needing the help of either a cane or his service dog, Cujo.(1 & 2)

It isn't until his powers start appearing that he learns something interesting. If he concentrates enough, he can shift/manifest his own existence into whichever perspective he's focusing on the most when he transforms, singling his vision down to one perspective for the duration. He has to be careful though, otherwise he could get stuck in-between, which scrambles his vision to an even more nauseating degree. That or he could cause himself to blackout just from the amount of stress it puts on his mind.

He's basically his own dimension hopping portal though.

The only thing is, he never hopped over to the other dimension that seemed to exist alongside his own and the Ghost Zone, content to just travel between his dimension and the Infinite Realms. That doesn't mean he wasn't interested in it or didn't take a more concentrated peek into it from time to time though. Cause let's be honest. A world full of superheroes defending the Earth from a multitude of threats? He'd be lying if he said he didn't use the opportunity to observe and learn from a few of the professionals when it came to his own defending of the ghostly variety.

It isn't until long after he becomes the Ghost King that he is approached by Clockwork, the Ghost of Time. He reveals he knows of Danny's ability to peer into the multiverse like the time ghost can, although greatly limited in comparison. He offers to make Danny his apprentice and to teach him what it means to see through the veil into different universes and timelines, and perhaps increase the amount of perspectives he can handle at once now that his power has increased exponentially. He is King of the Infinite Realms after all. He needs to properly oversee his domain and everything connected to it if he wants to be a good monarch. However, the only way to increase the number of perspectives he can handle is by experiencing each one first hand.

The first step? Shifting into the dimension he has yet to visit, the one he's been peering into and learning so much from over the years.

✦

Notes:

(1) Here, Danny gets Cujo before he becomes a security dog/a ghost.

(2) He eventually creates some specially designed glasses with color changing lenses that help him filter out the extra perspectives when he's older, but they're far from perfect. Red for home reality, Green for the Ghost Zone, and Blue for DC Universe/other universes.

ALSO, while this is technically a dp x dc crossover prompt, I wanted to keep it pretty open for any other crossover ideas. There's infinite possibilities here and I'd love to see what people come up with!

[whumpsday]

"defiant whumpee mumbling “fuck you” during torture" imaginingJim early on not thinking about Vampire hearing and whispering things under his breath and Kane hearing it

inspo

cw: beating, dehumanization

Jim hated being fed from. Hated, hated, hated it. It hurt, and it was humiliating, and it made him feel like he was a thing instead of a person. Kane's thing, that the vampire could do whatever he wanted with. And there was nothing Jim could do about it.

He'd been doing it for months, and he still hadn't gotten used to it. Maybe he never would. Most days, he just went along with it, knowing how powerless he was. But it was hard not to flinch away when he knew it was going to hurt.

"Stop pulling away." Kane snapped, and Jim's cheek exploded with pain as the vampire slapped him. It was worse than any slap from a human, and though he could tell that Kane was holding back and could make it much worse, it still hurt horribly.

Jim cried out, but stopped resisting, his eyes watery with barely-held-back tears. Kane yanked his head to the side and bit in while Jim cried, each little hiccup causing the pain in his neck to increase sharply for a second.

Kane finished his meal, licking the wounds on his neck closed and walking back to the door.

"Fuck you." Jim whispered tearily under his breath.

To Jim's surprise, Kane spun right back around. "What did you just say to me?"

Jim realized instantly that he was in acute, terrible danger. Still kneeling and unwilling to stand, he got on his hands and knees and crawled backward, bumping against his bed. "H-how did you hear that?"

"I'm a vampire, you fucking moron. You think you can disrespect me like that!?" Kane advanced toward him.

Jim dropped flat on his stomach, shimmying fearfully under the bed. "I'm sorry!" He wasn't sorry, but he was scared, and that amounted to the same thing, in his new life. "Just give me a break, I'm a person! I got frustrated, okay? I'm sorry!"

"You are not a person." Kane scoffed. "You're food. My food."

The bed lifted up, leaving him exposed. Kane held it in the air near-effortlessly, like it wasn't 200+ pounds of metal and mattress. He set it down roughly to the side with a bang, causing Jim to flinch again as he scrambled into the corner.

It was useless. He had no protection, no way to defend himself against this monster. Jim let out a terrified squeak as Kane grabbed him by the hair, dragging him close.

He yelped as Kane pulled him up painfully. The air left him as Kane punched him hard in the gut, unable to curl up defensively with the iron grip in his hair.

“Don’t--”

Kane dealt him another blow, and Jim sobbed, the pain increasing exponentially as it layered on top of the first blow. “Here’s a hint: don’t try to tell me what to do when you’re already in deep shit.”

He threw him to the floor with a thud, and Jim took the opportunity to curl in on his abused stomach covering his head with his arms with a whimper.

Kane kicked him a few times, and Jim couldn’t help but try to scramble away, but it just got him kicked harder, so he stopped. By the time Kane was ready to stop as well, his body was covered in bruises and his face was covered in tears.

“Fucking behave next time.” Kane left with a slam of the door.

Jim didn’t have it in him to move his bed back like this, where Kane had haphazardly placed it in the middle of the room. He crawled back under it, just to feel a little more protected, even though he had all the proof in the world that nothing in this room could protect him from Kane.

-

@melodicnommer thank you so much for breaking my writer's block!

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[livwritesstuff]

2003, established relationship, dads!steddie w/ 2yo daughter

The afternoon that Steve and Ed get a phone call that changes their life starts out with Steve at home alone, Ed having taken Moe to a park nearby for a while so Steve could have some time to go over his schedule of clients for the week and get all his notes organized.

He’s finished now, though, and working on throwing lunch together, and Ed’s pretty good with the timing of this kind of thing so he and Moe should be back any second.

Indeed, only a few minutes later, Steve hears the door open as Ed lets himself and Moe in.

“Bug, I promise I’m not trying to help you,” Ed is saying, and Steve can’t help a snort (the first month of Moe’s terrible twos had proven itself to be less terrible and more an ongoing debate over what she could and couldn’t do by herself; the second month is shaping up to be much of the same), “Maybe I just don’t want to watch you plummet back down the stairs we just spent five minutes walking up. Forgive me. You’re a very big girl and don’t ever need help with anything. Noted. Understood.”

A moment later, Moe barrels into the kitchen.

“Papa!” she exclaims, crashing into his legs.

Steve swings her up into his arms, and she immediately buries her face in the neckline of his t-shirt.

“You have fun?” he asks. He feels her nod against his shoulder, “You gonna take a long nap for daddy while I’m at work.”

She shakes her head.

“Weird — something tells me you might.”

Ed appears a few moments later.

“How was it?” Steve asks him.

“I spent twenty minutes watching that kid try to step onto the curb,” Ed replies with a grin, “She’s fantastic. How long until you have to head out?”

“Another hour or so,” he tells him as he sits Moe down in her booster seat at the kitchen table and runs a hand over her blonde hair (it’s just long enough to put into little pigtails now, which is so so cute, and Steve definitely sees bangs in her future once it gets a little longer).

“Excellent. How are we tricking the child into eating vegetables today?”

“There’s squash and cauliflower and the orange one she knows the name of in the mac and cheese sauce,” Steve replies. 

(With Moe’s vocabulary increasing exponentially, he and Ed are finding themselves speaking in weird vegetable-related code more and more while they decide how they’d like to navigate a phase of picky-eating she’d recently entered. Steve has been doing his best to sneak vegetables into as much of her food as he can get away with in the meantime, but he has a feeling that Moe might be catching on).

Once Moe is settled in with her lunch, Steve heads upstairs to get dressed for work and fix his hair. When he returns to the kitchen, he finds that the dishes have been cleared into the sink and Ed is using half a cookie to bribe Moe into telling him that the square root of nine is three — not because she actually understands the math, obviously (she’s only just started being able to differentiate one number from the next), but since she learned (memorized) one plus one equals two, Ed has been on a crusade to find the most complicated equation she could memorize the answer to. She now gives a confident Twelve in response to What’s three times four? and he’s apparently moved on to square roots (which might be too big a leap, Steve thinks, but only time will tell).

“Damn, Ed, if math was this important to you back in high school you might’a graduated on time,” he says, running a hand over Ed’s shoulders.

“Oh, fuck off. Do you know how much money Holly makes?” Ed asks, tipping his head back to look up at him, “Nancy told me how much money that kid makes. She’s twenty-three years old and making an absurd amount of money, Steve. Sue me for wanting our kid to develop some profitable proclivities.”

Steve shakes his head as he lifts Moe out of her seat, rescuing her from her dad’s flights of arithmetical fantasy.

When the phone rings (with the call that changes his and Ed’s life a second time), Steve is sitting on the ground with his back against the fridge watching as Moe plays with the colorful, plastic magnetic alphabet letters stuck to the stainless steel (“stainless my ass,” Ed had once muttered while trying to wipe Moe’s little fingerprints off the metal). Most of the letters have been shifted up to Steve and Ed’s eye level after months of spelling out multicolored messages to each other — currently, some of them are spelling buY mORe EgGs (Steve’s doing), with no fUck u (Ed’s) underneath.

Ed, standing at the sink and carefully scrubbing a cast-iron pan, is closer to the phone so he doesn’t hesitate to reach for it.

“Hey, this is Ed,” he says. A moment later, he turns and levels an eyebrow at Steve, “Oh, hi Lorraine. How’re you?”

There’s a pause, Ed’s face relaxing while he listens to Lorraine. After only a moment or two, his eyebrows shoot up.

“Oh…shit.” 

continue on A03

[lily-blue]

Paying the price

☆ characters: patriot!jiung & revolutioner!you ☆ genre: dystopian au, the devil judge au, angst ☆ warnings: graphic description of damaged corpses, mention of blood and violence, vomiting, major character’s death, spoilers ☆ summary: jiung believes in the system, that it has the people’s best interest; you believe that the system is rotten to the core and the people of South Korea need to be enlightened about the truth - as it always is, you two learn it the hard way which one of you is right ☆ words: 15,3k ☆ massive thank you: to @dat-town ♥ for proofreading this monster (i still can’t believe i accidentally made intak older than jiung 🙃) ☆ also: happy name day to the one and only @restlessmaknae​ 💕 it actually made me feel nostalgic when i started to search up these guys for this story, it reminded me of that one yeonjun fic i wrote for you, the one that made me stan txt. i’m not quite there yet with these boys, but who knows, maybe one day. thank you for coming back to my life and showing me new groups and new things this year, too. i wish you nothing but happiness! 💕 ☆ a/n: this story is written for @restlessmaknae’s (dis)harmony collab; you can check out the masterlist with the other stories » here

Despite the country’s shortcomings: the apparent corruption that was planted in its core from the education system through the media to the judicial and political apparatuses, you loved your home. You loved living in a neighbourhood where the grocery store ahjussi gave you an extra cluster of grapes whenever you looked tired at the end of a rough day and the ahjumma from the corner Chinese restaurant knew your order by heart, hence spared you from the headache of making yet another decision when all you craved was a big bowl of warm lotus root soup. You loved knowing the youngsters in your building by their name and the feeling of having half a dozen sisters and brothers, uncles and aunts despite losing your family at an unfairly young age and spending too many lonely years in a government-funded orphanage.

God, you even loved the opportunities higher education was constantly giving you regardless of a handful of your teachers who openly expressed their political views in class when it went against your university’s policies. So why couldn’t you have sat through your Korean History II. lecture with a neutral face like everyone else did? Why did it make your blood boil when looking at Choi Jiung’s slides you realised that he was about to praise your country’s leaders, too, like the three other students before him had already done during their own presentations? Why couldn’t you have shut up and swallow down your opinion when it was time for the audience’s questions?

Easy. Because despite your love for your country and the people around you, it was corrupt to the core and as law students, all of you should have refrained from turning a blind eye to the exponentially growing amount of power abuse that happened in your home. It didn’t matter that half of your classes brainwashed you to bend under pressure.

‘What about those innocent citizens who lost their homes because of the evacuation? There is no clear data available about the rehousing of those families. Were they ever compensated?’ You threw your provocative questions at the blond boy, voice firm and merciless as your words echoed off the pristine walls in the small classroom.

The moment Choi Jiung’s gaze fell on you, you knew he was pissed, although he did a great job concealing his feelings. It was just… you had known the guy ever since you had moved to your current one-bedroom flat right after you had been kicked out of the orphanage. You could read him like he was an open book.

‘While the rate of unemployment increased during the pandemic, the statistics show that the rate of homelessness stayed stagnant. Is that not clear data?’ The blond boy asked back and you could hear your professor’s pleased humming from the first row as you were sitting in the second one, almost right behind Mr. Kim.

You linked your fingers and let your arms fall on your desk while you leaned forwards with a straight back. You didn’t break eye contact.

‘Reports from that period state that due to the pandemic, there were less ongoing projects in the construction industry, which means there couldn’t have been emergency constructions due to rehousing. Where did those families go?’ You pushed, shutting out the murmurs from your side and behind your back. You were already used to the whispering, the wary look in your classmates’ eyes whenever you expressed your opinion.

Unlike what they said, you weren’t obsessed with the spotlight nor did you have a childish crush on Choi Jiung. You picked fights with him because he was an unpleasant part of your friend group, but a part nonetheless, and you believed that Shota wouldn’t have tolerated his presence in your lives if he had been a lost case.

You challenged Jiung repeatedly to help him see the errors in his own beliefs.

‘Less ongoing projects don’t equal to no ongoing project. It only means there were fewer than before the pandemic,’ Jiung stated, voice cold despite the fire in his eyes. ‘Those few projects could have been, or included, the emergency constructions in the countryside,’ he said, your nails digging into the back of your hands because of your frustration as you were listening.

‘Hundreds of thousands of people—’

‘I think that’s enough. We still have one more presentation to sit through and discuss before this seminar ends,’ your professor rose from his seat, exchanging positions with the blond student. If looks could have killed, neither him nor Mr. Kim would have survived your rage. How dared this old, soggy snob cut you off when you were clearly making a point?

You had to bite into your cheeks from the inside to not curse him out, but your opinion must have been written all over your face because before the next student could have started her presentation, the history professor looked at you and shook his head as though he was deeply disappointed when clearly, he was annoyed.

‘It’s my last warning, miss,’ the man stated and you were genuinely surprised that he hadn’t memorised your name by now. After all, it wasn’t your first class with him and you had never been a silent participant. ‘If you keep disturbing the peaceful learning environment, I will need to send you out of my class and mark this lesson as a missed lesson next to your name in the roster,’ he informed you, although it was more like a threat.

Okay, maybe he did know your name. He just didn’t bother to address you respectfully.

You pressed your lips into a firm line, contemplating whether getting into a useless fight with your professor would have been worth it, but ended up biting into your cheek from the inside once again instead of reciting your rights as a student of this institute. It didn’t matter what rights a piece of paper gave you in your country when your opinion differed from what was accepted and encouraged by those above you - expected and demanded if you didn’t feel like sugarcoating the truth.

Consequently, you fully intended to stay put until the end of the class because it was still too early into the semester to waste one of the three lessons you were allowed to miss in each seminar, but as soon as Kang Yohan’s face was staring back at you from the next presenter’s slides, you knew you wouldn’t be able to keep your mouth shut. Thus, you did both yourself and the class a favour when you shoved your laptop into your backpack and walked out of the classroom without a word.

The sound of your steps echoed off the walls of the semi-abandoned hallways, but the relative silence didn’t bother you, nor did the glances you got from those who saw you walking out of a classroom before the official end of the period. Confident, you headed towards the library on the first floor with your chin high and your facial expression unbothered.

It wasn’t the first time you chose your beliefs (and your pride) instead of letting a professor humiliate you in front of a whole class, after all.

You were doing some research for another class, sipping on your iced coffee despite the late hour, reading through statistics about crime rates and the judicial system, when Shota took a seat by the table you had been occupying since your last class for the day. You narrowed your eyes as you let your gaze loiter over his dishevelled figure, but said nothing before you turned back to your laptop. Being neighbours with the guy, you whole-heartedly believed that some things considering him was better left unasked. That way, you weren’t an accomplice.

‘Are you still looking for a way to get inside that institute?’ He asked while he reached out for your drink and took a casual sip of the bitter beverage like it was his.

You tore your gaze from the screen and leaned your back against your chair without making the slightest attempt at getting your drink back from the younger. Instead, you linked your arms in front of your chest and observed his face with caution. The yellowish bruise under his left eye and the cut on his cheek promised nothing good, but you knew Shota meant danger mostly for himself and rarely for the people around him.

‘The Dream House Medical Center?’ You asked just to confirm that you were thinking of the same building and all he gave you was a nod and a lopsided smile. ‘Yeah, I do, actually.’

Even though you still had a whole year before you should have started on your masters thesis, you already had a pretty firm idea of what you would have liked to write about: Kang Yohan, the misjudged judge who had died nearly a decade ago in the explosion of the courtroom where the infamous live court show had been broadcasted. That day, South Korea had lost not only the president and the first lady of the country, but five other powerful and rich people as well, all seven of them corrupt to the core yet labelled as victims of a self-assured psychopath. It boiled your blood whenever you thought of them, how in today’s history books, they were the casualty of an anti-national act conducted in an attempt to overthrow the administration.

Your fists were trembling as your nails sank into the soft flesh of your palms. You swore, you would clear the judge’s name one day in the future and make everyone see those lies that they were constantly fed by the government. Your thesis paper, the detailed research none of your professors would be able to oppose, would be the first step down the road.

But to be able to start marching, you had to get inside the Dream House Medical Center.

‘Any suggestions?’ You asked when the silence got too loud, not breaking eye contact even when you could feel the first tear drops forming in the corner of your eyes. Making a deal with Shota was never easy, the boy did nothing for free, not even for his closest friends, but he wouldn’t have brought up the topic just to tease you. He had something to offer and you knew when to be patient.

‘I got my hands on some interesting intel, so I can get us in and out without any of the guards noticing,’ he informed you, lazily sipping on your drink as though he hadn’t just knocked you off your feet with his statement. You were trying to find a way inside that building for months by then, because while it was supposed to be an abandoned institute - it was a part of a failed charity project after all - it was unreasonably heavily guarded.

Taking a deeper breath to ground yourself, you put your elbows on the table in front of your laptop and leaned forwards.

‘Name your price,’ you demanded quietly, earning a genuine smile from the boy.

‘Help me with the university interview. I need dirt on your professors and those you don’t have classes with,’ Shota negotiated and honestly, the only reason you were able to swallow down the laugh that was scratching your throat was the fact that you needed his help. If you could have afforded him getting sulky, you would have ruffled his messy hair and pinched his cheeks before you told him you would have helped him anyway.

He was clearly doing you a favour for free while pretending that he was a businessman who made no exceptions. It made you wonder whether he had gotten beaten up when he had tried to find information on the Dream House for you or the two things were completely irrelevant. A selfish part of you that didn’t want to deal with the guilt wished it was the latter, but deep down you knew Shota wouldn’t have held back something so huge just to share it with you at the perfect moment.

You had both learned early on in your lives that perfect moments were created; they didn’t just come to those who were patiently waiting.

‘Want it written down or is it enough if I tell you everything I know?’ You asked with a small tilt of your head, playing along and taking on a more serious tone. Meanwhile, you glanced down at your laptop and pulled up a blank document on your screen. The chances that none of your professors would have been present at Shota’s interview was high, so you wanted to make sure you had info on those who might have been possible candidates. For that, you needed to prepare a long list with every professor from the Business Faculty on it and ask around in the KU group chats you weren’t a part of yet.

‘Written down,’ Shota said and you acknowledged his choice with a low hum and a nod as you pulled up your university’s website and copied the names of the listed professors to your document. You also made a second list that contained the names of students you personally knew and would have vouched for, hence could have sought out for help.

‘Consider it being done,’ you preened, scanning through your lists one more time before you closed the tab and saved a couple of important websites regarding your assignment for your class as bookmarks. You made sure your laptop was turned off properly before you shoved it into your bag. ‘About the Dream House…’ you started, trying to sound as nonchalant as you could despite the light buzzing in your veins. ‘When are we going?’

‘Where are you going?’ Choi Jiung’s voice cut off your impromptu discussion before it could have started and you sighed, disappointed that you had let your excitement get the best of you when you should have seen the interruption coming. After all, Jiung was well aware that you preferred studying on campus over writing your papers in your own flat. He also knew that Shota liked tagging along when you had classes after six, because it meant that chances you would stay at the nearby coffee shop until closing time was high and he hated when you walked home on your own so late at night. Thus, when Jiung was looking for his friend, all he needed to do was checking the spots you frequented at.

‘None of your business, Choi,’ you grumbled while you leaned back against your chair and linked your arms in front of your chest.

Frustrated, you rolled your eyes when Jiung put a cup of perfectly untouched iced coffee on the table in front of you, but reached out for the drink when you saw Shota eyeing it like he was seconds away from stealing that, too.

The silence that fell on your table wasn’t new. It was a recurring phenomenon in your friends group whenever Jiung and you were joined by a less talkative person - so basically anyone other than Keeho or Intak. And while at first it had made you anxious, because you had felt as though you should have been able to initiate or at least keep up a pleasant conversation with people you considered close friends, by now you knew silence was absolutely fine as well. In fact! It was rather nice to enjoy the tranquillity around people who accepted you the way you were: stubborn, strong-willed and curt when you had nothing important to say.

‘What got your panties in a twist this time?’ Shota’s snarky question shook you out of your thoughts, his dark eyes fixed on nothing in particular making you wonder whether he was talking to you or the blond boy on his other side.

You opened your mouth for an equally sarcastic answer when Jiung let out a loud huff and cut you off with his own mocking reply.

‘What else? She tried to sabotage my presentation. Again,’ he accused and you rolled your eyes without giving too much thought to the action. All three of you knew damn well that you would have never stooped so low; your morals simply wouldn’t have let you play dirty much to Shota’s disappointment. The younger had tried to make you see numerous times that the world wasn’t fair to those who played by the rules, but you stood your ground each and every time. You wanted to become an exceptional judge just like Kang Yohan and his mentee, Kim Gaon. You were determined to lead by example as well - with the right example!

‘Oh, grow up, Choi Jiung, would you? My questions were spot on,’ you retorted, slim fingers turning white around your drink.

Looking around, you had to remind yourself that just because it was late, the coffee shop still had a fair amount of customers, thus you should have kept your voice low to not disturb their peace. Still, resisting the urge to call the blond boy out on his bullshit, as he wouldn’t have contributed to your daily caffeine intake if he had been indeed pissed, was challenging. He got under your skin way too easily.

‘No. You were once again pressing your false narrative,’ Jiung tried to correct you, talking to you in a condescending way that made you feel like a child. If looks could have killed, he would have been dead even before his gaze landed on you. ‘One day, these types of questions will cost you a lot more than a missed class.’

You gulped down the coffee in your mouth along with the non-existent bile that somehow did scratch your throat.

‘Is that a threat?’ You spat, unaware of the sadness in Jiung’s eyes as you were hyper fixated on the possible implication behind his words. It made you see red, grip tight around your cup and nails digging into the plastic with so much force, Shota had to take the coffee out of your hand and put it on the table before it could have overflowed.

‘Friendly advice,’ Jiung corrected you once again and it was only due to the years of practice the orphanage had given you that you hadn’t screamed it into his face that you didn’t consider him as a friend. Not like you did Keeho and Theo and sure as hell not like you did Shota. The sole reason you let him be a part of your life despite his questionable political beliefs was your respect for the others.

With a resigned sigh, Jiung turned his gaze away and shook his head as though he couldn’t have taken your stubbornness any longer. Well, you didn’t ask him to.

‘I’m done for today,’ you stated, leaving the half-finished drink on the table as you grabbed your bag and slid your gaze to the younger. ‘Shota?’

The boy stood up from his seat immediately and reached out for the abandoned beverage, his smile content as he took a big sip from the iced coffee. He patted Jiung’s shoulder twice in gratitude, then squeezed it lightly for good measure.

You turned away, refusing to feel guilty for putting an abrupt end to the conversation. It was a long day, getting into a heated argument about the government with Jiung for the second time that day was the last thing you needed. Especially at a public place that you loved and where you were a regular.

‘See you tomorrow, hyung,’ Shota bid his goodbye while you sealed your lips and gave Jiung a half-assed bow because it was a habit drilled into your DNA. It was a fundamental part of your culture: you bowed to people at every single encounter, at every goodbye and sometimes in between when the situation required it. You didn’t have to respect someone to follow the most basic rules of etiquette in their company.

If Jiung had said anything to your best friend before the younger boy followed you towards the exit, you hadn’t heard him, but you did sneak a peek at him sitting casually by your table before you closed the door shut.

Not that you would have admitted it to anyone.

Your palms were sweaty while you were waiting with Shota for what you supposed was some sort of sign that you could finally enter the building without getting arrested for trespassing. Admittedly, you had never felt more nervous in your entire life: your current actions going against your moral code while simultaneously aiding your fight against the propaganda that your whole nation was fed with on a daily basis. You needed evidence, desperately so, but the thought of breaking into the Dream House Medical Center freaked you out more and more as the crucial moment came closer and closer to your present.

Only a couple hundreds of metres from the abandoned institute, it felt too real. You weren’t sure you were ready and started to question whether you were made for the job.

It shouldn’t have surprised you that at one point your feet started drumming a clumsy rhythm on their own accord, but your lips still parted slightly when you felt a warm hand on your knee, over your ripped jeans. Staring at Shota’s hand, you lifted your head to look at his face and shot a tight-lipped smile at him as a sign of gratitude for his silent support. You could do this. It had been your idea from the beginning. You were doing the right thing.

So why did the proverb ‘the end justifies the means’ sound like a cheap excuse of a criminal?

‘Nervous, kiddo?’ A familiar voice pulled you out of the self-doubting spiral of thoughts and you turned towards the newcomers with panic in your eyes. Not counting the two of you, no one should have known about your plan. So why were two of your friends staring at you like they were simultaneously doubting your sanity and admiring you for your guts?

You looked around to check your surroundings in search of the others, then let your gaze fall back on Keeho and Jiung when you realised it was only them. 

‘What are you guys doing here?’ You whisper-shouted, unable to decide how you felt about their presence. For 1) since it was your research, you felt like you were responsible for the safety of everyone who got involved in the fieldwork and looking after Shota in itself was already a bit emotionally overwhelming for you under the current circumstances. 2) Because of the very same reason, you were relieved that there would be more pairs of eyes during the investigation that could watch out for the potential danger.

Still, a part of you felt more people meant a bigger risk. It didn’t help that you were already fidgety due to your growing guilt that pressed down on your chest.

‘Supervising,’ Keeho explained, his tone lowkey condescending like he couldn’t believe he needed to spell it out to you. Like it was natural that he was there even though he shouldn’t have known about the trespassing to begin with. ‘Obviously, I won’t just let Shota break into a guarded institute on his own,’ he added, coaxing a displeased scoff out of you with his complete disregard for your presence and capabilities.

You wanted to remind the boy that you were only two weeks younger than him and that you would have made sure Shota didn’t get in trouble even if it had meant endangering your own life, but in the end you swallowed back your remarks. Mostly, because you believed it would have been unwise to start a fight so close to the main gates. Also, because your muscles were non-existent in comparison with the older boy’s. Realistically speaking, he had more potential than you when it came to protecting your friends.

‘What about you?’ You turned towards Jiung, one of your slim brows raised with challenge. For some reason, you doubted he had come with Keeho to help you in any way. If anything, he might have tagged along to give you another unasked, friendly advice.

‘I came to see your face when you realise you’ve been wrong all this time,’ he claimed with a shrug, not putting too much effort into protecting your feelings. Although, had he ever? The thought that he found true joy in your failures left a bitter taste in your mouth.

The retort that he had come in vain had already been on the tip of your tongue when Shota nudged you with his shoulder and pointed at the entrance once he gained your attention.

‘It’s time,’ he said. You gulped before you acknowledged his statement with a nod.

Considering how many walls you had bumped into while you had been trying to find a way inside the building in the legal way, how unhelpful every single one of the government agents had been and how many armed guards you had seen around the building in the last hour, you had assumed that walking inside the medical centre would be challenging despite your best friend’s intel. Blame it on those old school action movies Intak loved so much, but you were convinced that you would be in a race against time, that you would need to run and jump and use your non-existent muscles to get through some hidden back door.

Walking up to the front door with confident strides and opening the huge lock with a key was oddly anticlimactic. You had to pinch your arm to make sure you weren’t dreaming.

‘How the hell did you put your hands on that thing?’ Keeho asked, stealing the words out of your mouth.

Shota closed the double door behind your backs like he had just gotten home, then turned on his flashlight similar to the one in your pocket. You mimicked him and turned on yours, too.

‘I asked for a copy? Don’t you know acting suspicious is what makes people aware you’re up to something?’ He asked, not really expecting an answer based on the way he turned his back on your small group and started to walk down the hallway. ‘It’s all about confidence.’

You put your hand on Keeho’s shoulder and squeezed it lightly as a reminder that you didn’t have time for further interrogation nor was it the most suitable place for a parental scolding, then followed your best friend until you reached the first intersection. There, you waited for the others to catch up with you and you decided to split up. You didn’t have all the time in the world after all, only two hours until the next error in the system of the graveyard shift.

‘I’ll check the basement,’ you volunteered and shook your head dismissively when you saw Jiung open his mouth from the corner of your eyes. ‘Keeho’s babysitting, there are too many floors for just two groups,’ you said, slowly turning towards the blond boy with your entire body.

‘Who said I was about to follow you?’ He retorted with a huff and took the flashlight out of Keeho’s hand as he turned on his heels and marched up the stairs. You kept your eyes on his back until he disappeared, then shot a tight-lipped smile in the others’ direction before you made them promise to take pictures of anything suspicious or interesting-looking.

You hoped Jiung would do the same as well even though he hadn’t waited around for your reminder. You had faith in Shota and his dubious network, you really did, but you genuinely doubted you would have had another chance like this in the near future if you had failed to gather enough evidence due to your slipshod job.

On your way to the basement, you kept your mind occupied with random songs from the last decade they still played on the radio just so it wouldn’t have turned on you and made you see things in the darkness that weren’t there. Your imagination might not have been too wild, but being alone in a building where you assumed poor people had been killed for how much their organs were worth was scary. You didn’t believe in ghosts and other supernatural creatures, but you wouldn’t have blamed their souls for sticking around, angry, if they had existed.

The dust in the air was heavy and it stuck to your skin uncomfortably as you checked each and every door that opened from the hallway underground. Most of the rooms were unlocked, the surgical equipment inside of them outdated and untouched. A part of you - the same part that was convinced of Kang Yohan’s innocence - was eager to see them as evidence of human experiments, but the rational side of you was aware that things like these were normal at a medical facility. If you had shown photos of these to anyone, they would have focused on the fact that you shouldn’t have been in the building.

You gulped, growing frustrated, as you checked the time on your phone and walked up to the next door. You still had some time.

Admittedly, you knew you could have spent an entire day in the building and still felt like you needed more to do a thorough research, but beggars couldn’t have been choosers. Thus, you locked your panicking thoughts in the back of your mind and opened the drawers in the next room that looked more like an abandoned office than a medical room.

‘Come on!’ You groaned when you found the third drawer in a row empty, getting on your knees without much thinking to force the last one open as well. At first glance, it didn’t seem like you should have had a key to open it, so you hoped it was only stuck, preferably due to the weight of the papers inside of it.

Two of your nails broke in the process and your fingertips were burning, but eventually you managed to open the lowest drawer, its content plenty and full of names you weren’t familiar with. However, you did recognise one: Heo Joongse. He had been one of the “victims” of the explosion that had killed Kang Yohan. He had been the former president of South Korea.

Hands shaking nervously, you started to take pictures of the documents, but because of the lack of proper lighting, they turned out to be unreadable. Therefore you shoved them under your sweatshirt on a whim.

‘Noona! Noona, it’s time to go!’ You heard your best friend calling for you and you stilled, contemplating whether you should have pretended that you hadn’t heard him and checked one more room or let him know where you were. He must have calculated with finding you, he knew how you got when you… ‘Noona, we have to get out of here!’

You closed your eyes and let out a displeased sigh. You should have met them upstairs, close to the front door. If Shota was in the basement, it meant you hardly had any minute to waste. Even if the digital numbers in the upper right corner of your phone’s screen said otherwise.

‘I’m coming!’ You shouted on your way to the hallway, giving a resigned look to the rest of the basement, to all those closed doors you hadn’t had a chance to open, then ran towards Shota’s voice. It came from the stairs that led to the ground floor.

The question of what had happened that you needed to leave twenty minutes sooner was on the tip of your tongue, but you didn’t have a chance to say it aloud. The moment you opened your mouth, your best friend grabbed your wrist and pulled you in the opposite direction from the main entrance, confusion making you uncharacteristically obedient and unresponsive.

You didn’t question him when he shoved you inside a dirty restroom, nor did you ask a single thing when Keeho emerged from one of the toilet cubicles. You simply let the older boy take the lead and help with your balance when you stepped on top of a half-broken plastic toilet lid that was supposed to support your weight and made you tall enough to reach the edge of the open window on the tiled wall.

‘You really think I can…’ pull myself up; you wanted to ask, but before you could have finished your question, someone grabbed your arms from the outside and got you out of the building with one swift movement.

With a scream stuck in the back of your throat, you looked down at Jiung with slightly parted lips and gulped nervously when your gaze fell on your palm atop of his chest. You swore, you could feel his heart beating like crazy under your palm, your own mimicking the rhythm and pushing enough blood to your neck and cheeks to turn them ruby red.

‘Get up! We’re running out of time.’ It was Shota whose voice pulled you back to the present, but you were sure, even without stealing a glance at the boy on your right, that it was Keeho who pulled you off Jiung and pulled you towards the iron fences.

You stumbled in the dark, unaware of when you had lost your flashlight and whether the guys had turned theirs off on purpose. By the time your friends deemed that you were far enough from the facility, your lungs were screaming for a break and every breath felt like you were inhaling pieces of broken glass.

‘What the hell happened?’ You demanded, even though it seemed you were the only one who thought your frustration and anger were justified.

‘That your stupid obsession almost got us in trouble, that’s what happened,’ Jiung screamed at your face, a few drops of saliva landing on your burning cheek due to your close proximity. You balled up your fists, your knuckles turning white from how hard you clenched them.

‘Shota said it was safe! And I don’t remember asking you to join us,’ you retorted as calmly as you could manage with the growing annoyance you were feeling.

Sure, you knew trespassing had been a gamble, that you had been going against everything you believed in just to prove a point, but you had done nothing inside that damned building that could have put everyone in danger. Whatever had happened it hadn’t been on you, you refused to believe it.

‘It was the USB. We found a bunch of them in one of the offices, but one of them was still plugged into a smashed PC, so I pulled it out,’ Shota confessed at the same time Keeho said:

‘I think I broke a lock I shouldn’t have.’

You closed your eyes, heaving. Honestly, the second option sounded more possible, but you felt like stating the obvious or calling Jiung out on his freaking tendency to put the blame on you would have done more harm than good. The atmosphere was already tense, making it worse while you were still relatively close to the crime scene would have been stupid.

‘It’s okay, it doesn’t matter,’ you concluded because crying over spilled milk would have been just as idiotic. You had gotten in and out without encountering any of the guards, no one had known your faces, your identities were safe. You might have felt bitter about leaving so soon, but at the end of the day, you were all unharmed and that was what mattered.

You straightened your back and opened your eyes.

‘Let’s go home,’ you exclaimed and shot a genuine smile in Shota’s direction to soothe the guilt that was written all over his face.

When Jiung bumped into your shoulder on purpose, you gritted your teeth, but followed him towards the main road. You decided not to ask him whether he had found anything useful as you were sure he wouldn’t have told you even if he had done, and pointed at your tummy with a mischievous wink when Shota did the same with his pockets where he hid the old USB sticks.

You might not have been able to check everything you had wanted, but your mission hadn’t been a complete failure, after all. And that… that sure as hell made you feel like you had accomplished something.

A couple of days later, you were in the university library, working on your assignment on the live court show’s effects on the judicial system and the shift of responsibility the DIKE app had contributed to when citizens had been given the power to decide the defendants were guilty or not guilty, when Choi Jiung walked up to your table and shut down your laptop with a fixed combination of keys. To say you were furious would have been an understatement. You were livid.

‘Do you want to die? The hell is wrong with you?’ You spat, pushing yourself into a standing position in an attempt to look more intimidating despite still being significantly shorter than the boy. It didn’t matter. Anger could take people farther than one would have thought.

Instead of answering your question with words, Jiung threw a small pile of papers on your desk. You looked down at it with narrowed eyes before you took it in your hand. There was no need for you to scan through the provocatively phrased paragraphs. Just by looking at the header, you knew it was your thesis abstract.

‘Where did you get this?’ You asked, trying not to wrinkle the document in case it was indeed the original copy that you had put on your professor’s table in the teachers’ office after your last class.

‘Do you want to die?’ He threw the question back at you, his tone just as angry as yours even though the flames in his eyes burned with a different colour. He seemed a lot more serious rather than borderline panicking. His reaction closed up your throat, but you kept your chin high to prove a point. ‘I’m serious! You can’t be this stupid, can you?’

You took a shallow breath, then another one and another one for good measure before you crouched down for your bag and shoved your laptop inside of it.

‘You saw that place. They’re guarding it for a reason. Even if you really didn’t find anything on the first floor…’ You took another breath to calm yourself. You still had time before your next class, so you could put the abstract back on your professor’s desk like Jiung had never put his hands on it.

‘You can’t become a judge with this mindset. It’s anti-nationalist,’ he pressed, stopping you with his fingers hanging around your wrist like a chain. You shook it off, his rough touch, and turned around to look him in the eyes.

‘I’m ashamed of you. People like you should never be allowed to become a judge in the first place,’ you said, quiet enough to not draw anyone’s attention, but loud enough to hurt.

You meant it: every word. Those people who deliberately turned a blind eye on the flaws in the stories the system tried to feed you with, on the government’s wrongdoings just because it was easier, shouldn’t have been given power to decide who deserved a severe punishment for breaking the law and who acted upon self-preservation. 

The two of you kept eye contact for longer than it was necessary, therefore you were about to turn your back on Jiung when you got a text via kakao. With furrowed eyebrows, you fished the device out of your pocket and checked the incoming messages.

shota 😤: “don’t come home!” shota 😤: “i’m serious” shota 😤: “stay with the hyungs”

The urgency in his double texts made you feel alarmed, so you sent a quick message to both Shota and Keeho, then threw your phone into your bag and rushed out of the library.

There was no way you would let your best friend deal with whatever trouble he was in on his own when you had a good guess where he was and it was clearly too big for him to handle it alone.

Jiung tried not to think too much into it when you didn’t show up at class the day after you had stormed out of the library. He really tried not to panic when he couldn’t see you at any of your favourite places around campus, although he was familiar with your schedule and habits: when you preferred the university library over the coffee shop, which classes you would have never skipped for the world and how many papers you had to submit before the upcoming midterms.

It wasn’t unusual that you didn’t pick up the phone to him, so he didn’t even bother after the first futile attempt, aware of the line he had crossed when he had taken your thesis abstract that he shouldn’t have even read, but when even Soul refused to read his messages, he knew something was off. The boy would have never ignored his hyungs just because he might have taken your side. At least, he had never done so before and god, the younger sided with you almost all the time.

Lacking any better idea, Jiung dialled Keeho’s number, letting out a relieved breath when the older picked up the phone after the second ring.

‘Have you heard from Soul? His bestie hasn’t shown up at uni since last week,’ he started without beating around the bush, too frustrated (and worried) to prolong the conversation. He wanted to know that you were both okay and his worst nightmare hadn’t come true despite your stubbornness.

Had you gotten in trouble with the authorities because of your big mouth? Who had you been texting to before you had turned your back on him?

‘Not since last week. He said he would be out of town for a couple of days,’ Keeho answered. ‘Same for the firecracker. She texted that she’s worried about Shota, but then she claimed everything was fine, so I didn’t ask,’ he explained, not going into too much detail about why he hadn’t pushed when he was so overprotective of the babies of their group. Jiung knew the older boy was balancing two jobs to provide for not only himself, but Jongseob, too. Life was tough ever since the youngest had run away from home.

If you had told Keeho things were okay, Jiung understood why he had chosen to believe you and stay at his workplace or steal himself an hour of extra sleep.

‘Did he say where he was going?’ Jiung asked, wondering whether he was overreacting or the nagging voice inside of his head was right about you. Even if he doubted you considered him as a friend, he would have liked to believe that he knew the core of your personality. There was no way you would have deliberately ditched your studies when you had worked so hard to get accepted on scholarship.

‘No,’ came the answer after a momentary break, silence filled with pangs of distress. ‘Why?’

‘I’m not sure, but I have a bad feeling about this. I’ll go and check their place,’ Jiung said, checking his timetable and deciding against showing up at his last class as it wasn’t a seminar and most importantly, it wasn’t a lecture he was sharing with you.

‘Now?’

‘Now,’ he nodded out of habit as he threw the strap of his messenger bag over his head and put on his cap.

‘I’ll be there in an hour. Wait for me!’ Keeho asked and Jiung let out a loud, affirmative hum before he hung up the phone.

The blond boy didn’t waste any time. He called a cab with his kakao app and asked the driver to drive as fast as he could once he got inside the car. He promised to double the fare if the old man got to your place in under an hour (which would have been an achievement in itself in the afternoon traffic).

‘We have arrived, mister,’ the taxi driver announced and Jiung indeed paid plenty before he jumped out of the car and rushed upstairs. He had only ever been to your place once, when it had been your birthday in freshman year of uni and Soul had organised you a surprise party with your favourite strawberry cake and a second-hand laptop for your studies. Jiung couldn’t remember anymore what he had bought for you. Had he even bought you anything? 

He shook his head. That wasn’t important at that moment. Making sure you were alright and simply avoiding him was.

The first alarming sign was how easy it was to get inside your flat: all Jiung needed to do was push down the handle and the door was open. He didn’t need a key, a keycard or a passcode. His heart sank into his stomach when he crossed the threshold.

Jiung needed to bite into his lips to not make the mistake most people made on tv whenever they found themselves in a similar situation. Because as ridiculous as it sounded, his first instinct was to call for your name and announce his arrival, which would have been stupid. What if someone was here? He really shouldn’t have done that.

So he didn’t. Instead, he took off his shoes and checked every room as silently as possible until he made sure he was alone. Then, he started to go through your stuff systematically: skimming your mails, searching through your drawers and desk, rummaging your bathroom while simultaneously trying to not invade your privacy and finding clues about where you had been and what had happened. He was in the middle of looking for hidden compartments in your walls when Keeho arrived.

‘Is anyone here?’ The older boy asked, coaxing an unamused scoff out of Jiung with his loud question. Of course, he was acting like every idiot in a horror movie who was about to die.

‘Bedroom,’ Jiung grumbled, keeping his focus on the task in hand. He vaguely remembered Soul bragging about the coolest compartments he had installed in both of your flats, so that you could have hid your cash there and never gotten robbed. They had to be big enough to store a handful of stolen USB sticks. If only he could have known for sure there was nothing on them that would want dangerous people to make you disappear.

‘What happened here?’ Keeho asked, clearly taken aback by the state of your room.

Jiung didn’t bother to look around. He knew damn well the disaster he had left behind when he had started to get more and more frustrated, too impatient to put everything back to its place when they hadn’t given him the answers he was looking for.

‘The kimbap in her fridge went wrong days ago. She wouldn’t have left it there if she’d had a choice,’ the blond boy stated and it was ridiculous really, how sure he was in certain things when it came to you. But he just knew. He had caught you eating food you didn’t enjoy just because you had already paid for it or it had been for free. Even if you had been in a hurry, you wouldn’t have left it there to rot.

‘You sound pretty paranoid. And worried,’ Keeho commented, but walked up to your bedside table without much questioning and moved it aside. Then, he knocked on the beige wall a few times, gaining Jiung’s attention when suddenly, the thud gave a different sound.

Jiung crawled towards the bed on his hands and knees, reaching for the content of the hidden compartment once his friend opened it with ease that showed he knew exactly what he was doing. In small stacks, there were a couple of 5000 and 10000 won bills, less in total than the amount of Jiung’s allowance had gotten regularly in middle school.

Jiung’s throat closed up when his eyes fell on the custom-made keychain he had forgotten a long time ago, the one he had given you for your birthday and the one that sat on top of a pile of dirty papers. He took it into his hand and shoved it into his pocket before he skimmed the documents. On each page, they had the Dream House’s stamp on their upper left corners, which meant you might have found these in the facility’s basement.

Damnit! You had never mentioned you had found something that night, let alone something that looked like trouble.

‘What do they say?’ Keeho’s question came from Jiung’s right, your worn bed cracking under the older boy’s weight. 

‘At first glance? That they are lucky if they’re in the countryside,’ the younger answered, his heart rate picking up because of the dreadful pictures his brain was throwing at him about you and Soul behind bars, the two of you in separate interrogation rooms, powerful people trying to break you to turn against each other.

Jiung looked around in search of his backpack, then stood up and lifted it off the floor, so that he could shove the documents between two books he had been supposed to take back to the university library. They didn’t matter anymore. You and Soul did.

‘Where are you going?’ Keeho asked, and while Jiung had a concrete destination in mind, he was contemplating whether he should have told the other the whole truth. Keeho hadn’t seen the late president’s name on the documents yet and while Jiung would have also needed more time to figure out what you had gotten yourself into exactly, he had a vague idea. He didn’t want to put his friend in more danger in case he was right.

On the other hand, he was aware how important Soul was to Keeho. Obviously, the older boy cared about each one of his close friends, even people he deemed honest and kind, but Soul was like a brother to him. If Jiung had been in his shoes, he would have resented whoever kept secrets this serious from him.

‘I’ll ask Jiseong if he heard anything,’ he settled for the truth, albeit giving a curt answer. He would cross that bridge when he got there. For the time being, he didn’t want to complicate things even more. Not to mention that his step-brother would have scolded him and might have outright refused to tell him any details if he had shown up at his office with someone who had nothing to do with their family or their social circle.

After meeting you, Jiung had started to question whether he was able to read other people as well as his family expected him to, but recognizing the fine mixture of doubt, hurt and worry in Keeho’s eyes was too easy.

‘You will call me,’ the words came out pseudo-commanding, like the boy knew no objection, but Jiung noticed the pinch of uncertainty that made Keeho’s voice crack by the end, turning the statement into a semi-question. He didn’t call him out on his lack of faith in his character, mostly because Jiung himself was unsure of numerous things, too, regarding the situation.

Therefore, he settled for a nod instead of a verbal promise and left the building. The papers in his backpack felt heavy, like rocks that were trying to pull him underwater, but nothing could have compared to the weight of the abandoned keychain in his pocket that you, for some reason, had kept at the same place you kept your treasures.

After a failed attempt at the District Court, Jiung decided to wait for his step-brother at his home office, which was basically a separate room on the second floor in their house, between their parents’ offices and across from his own study room. Aware of the importance of respect and good manners even when one wasn’t out in public, he knocked on the mahogany door and counted to three, seven, ten, before he entered.

Since the boy’s plan was to ask a few questions from his hyung about the Dream House Medical Centre and whether there had been any attempts at breaking into the abandoned building in the last couple of years - the more general his curiosity appeared to be, the safer for you and Soul -, he decided to jot down every aspect he needed to touch upon and tried to make the inquiries sound as academic and neutral as possible while he was waiting. A written list could have helped him make it look like he was working on an assignment of some sort.

Taking a seat by the massive desk in the left corner of the room, Jiung pulled out the upper drawer, looking for a piece of paper. He knew it was a little old-fashioned, that he could have taken notes on his phone as well, but there was something about a piece of blank paper that stimulated his brain. Thoughts and ideas came easier when he could feel the material against the mounts of his palm and the weight of the pen in his hand.

Jiung didn’t intend to pry. Why would he have? He had been raised to trust his family above everyone and everything and put his faith in the system blindly as his relatives had important roles in it for generations. However, it was undeniable that it was your thesis abstract staring back at him from the top of a smaller pile of papers in Jiseong’s drawer. Jiung needed to take it into his hands.

He didn’t have to read through the lines to make sure the paragraphs had been written by you. Even though your name was crossed out with a black marker, he knew it was yours. He had read your abstract before. God! He had told you it would have gotten you in trouble. He had just never assumed that his hyung would have also been involved in this mess somehow.

Desperate to not jump to false conclusions, Jiung put the document back into the drawer and closed it carefully. He leaned the back of his head against the chair and closed his eyes, trying to even his breathing. He couldn’t have allowed himself to act suspicious or else his brother would have kicked him out of his office before he could have uttered a single word.

‘What are you doing here?’ Jiseong’s thunderous voice filled the room, pulling the blond boy out of his messy thoughts. Jiung snapped his head in his brother’s direction, resisting the urge to gulp down the nervous knot in his throat or put on a fake smile.

‘Homework,’ he explained with his fidgety fingers clenched into fists and hidden under the desk. He needed to stop thinking about your abstract in the drawer and how it could have gotten there for not only his own sake, but yours and Soul’s as well. He had never been a man of emotions, he couldn’t have allowed to become one in such a delicate situation. ‘I mean, I need some answers I couldn’t find on the internet, nor in any of the books in the uni library,’ he added when his answer met with silence, putting effort into relaxing his tense muscles.

‘I see,’ Jiseong muttered, not taking his hawk eyes off his younger brother while he walked closer to the desk and along with it, to Jiung. The young man’s arms were crossed in front of his chest; his tailored suit devoid of any wrinkles. ‘Ask away then.’

Jiung wished he had had more time to prepare himself for this conversation. Sure, the boy had wanted to get over with the interrogation as soon as possible when he had decided to seek his hyung out right after he had left your flat, but that had been before he had found your thesis abstract. With this new discovery, he felt unprepared.

‘It’s common knowledge that the Dream House has been abandoned since judge Kang Yohan tried to use it to overthrow the government,’ he started with a well-known statement to steal himself a couple of more seconds. He usually used this method during presentations because talking about things he was certain about did wonders to his jittery nerves, but this time, the academic tone had no positive effect. The lingering uncertainty poisoned his confidence. ‘It’s heavily guarded, though. Why?’

‘Use your brain, Jiung-ah. Why do you think it needs to be guarded up to this day?’ The man asked in a chastising tone. It reminded Jiung of school breaks in the countryside that they had spent with their grandparents. It reminded Jiung of summer days when he had falsely thought he could have acted his age without unpleasant consequences.

He frowned, but gave a serious thought to the question and answered with his chin held high.

‘So people wouldn’t break in,’ he chose, because even before breaking into the Dream House and rummaging through the first floor, he had doubted there had been something or someone kept in there that could have escaped. Which could have only meant that the government wanted to keep people from entering.

‘And?’

Jiung furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, wondering whether his brother knew he had been there, inside the medical centre, when you had put your hands on those documents. Was there a specific answer Jiseong was expecting from him? Or should he have played it safe and pretended he didn’t know about the late president’s involvement in something that had gotten you in so much trouble, you and Soul had disappeared off the face of Earth?

‘There are people in our country who believe Kang Yohan was some sort of saint who wanted to protect the powerless from corruption even though he couldn’t have cared less about the poor and unprivileged,’ the young judge stated, destroying the remaining distance between himself and his brother. Jiseong put his palms on his desk and leaned closer to Jiung with a predatory glint in his hazel eyes. Like he was staring at a pitiful prey instead of someone he had to treasure and protect. ‘It’s guarded, so those with anti-nationalist ideas wouldn’t turn it into their own sacred place,’ he said, forcing the younger to hold his breath and listen. ‘They would crowd it. It would give them a place with meaning for gatherings and suddenly, their preaching would gain more credibility.’

At that moment, as he was staring at his step-brother, the blond boy couldn’t help but think of you and your reaction whenever he had said something to defend the system. He wondered whether he had sounded just as biassed and inimical to you as Jiseong did to him while he was talking about faceless people and their hypothetical actions when they hadn’t committed said crime yet.

He wondered whether the fact that he added that harmless “yet” at the end of the sentence in his head meant he was indeed the same.

‘Has anyone ever broken into that building?’ Jiung asked partly to cut the tension that grew with the silence, partly to check the credibility of his hyung’s words.

Jiseong took his hands off the desk and straightened his back. He shot a small smile in Jiung’s way and shook his head.

‘Never. Like you said, it’s heavily guarded. You have nothing to be worried about,’ he said, slowly loosing his necktie, piercing gaze poking holes into the skin between the younger’s eyes. ‘Any other questions?’

There were. Jiung had plenty of questions starting with why was your abstract in his drawer, what had they done to you and Soul, whether you two had been the first ones who had been dealt with this drastically or there were others, people who had no connection to people like Jiung who came from an influential family. However, putting these thoughts in words would have done more harm than good and Jiung wasn’t an idiot. He might have doubted Jiseong would have been able to make him disappear or it was really him who had been behind all of this, but Jiung knew he wasn’t untouchable.

‘No, nothing. Thanks,’ so he said and stood up from the chair as casually as he could manage before he bent down and picked up his backpack from the floor. He bowed to his brother like he always did when he was greeting his family members or saying goodbye to them, then straightened his back and waited to be dismissed, showing respect to his elder as he had been taught.

‘Go, wash up! It’s almost dinner time,’ Jiseong said and patted his brother’s shoulder once, twice, three times, before he turned his back on Jiung.

The younger didn’t hesitate to leave the room afterwards.

The thing was, whether his step-brother knew that Jiung had broken into the Dream House with you and the boys or not, Jiseong had lied to him. He also had your thesis abstract, the very same document Jiung had given back to you the day he had last seen you, which was more than a little concerning. Therefore, despite his own beliefs, Jiung needed to figure out what was going on and how deep his hyung was in the mess you had also gotten yourself and Soul into.

He needed to know you two were okay. The sooner, the better.

If anyone had caught the boy sneaking into his brother’s home office instead of attending his classes, Jiung would have been cursed out, then dragged into his room and locked up for several weeks. He knew because he had been driven to school and back home for a whole month in high school when his father had found out that he had drunk a beer with his friend in public despite being underaged. They had done it at a park where they had thought no one had been paying any mind to them, but they had been dead wrong as his then-friend’s mother had sent one of her secretaries to keep an eye on her son and they had gotten caught before they could have decided whether they had wanted to open the second can. The tension at home after that had been so messed up, Jiung hadn’t dared to break any rules for years.

That was, until he had met you.

Rummaging through Jiseong’s drawers turned out to be fruitless. Other than stationeries and a bunch of files about ongoing cases at the court, there was nothing to put his hands on, which was weird. Why wasn’t your paper in the upper drawer anymore?

Kneeling on the floor, Jiung leaned his forehead against the edge of the desk and closed his eyes. Looking through his hyung’s things was one thing. Should he have really logged into his computer, too? That sounded too extreme, but then again. The boy had already trespassed on government property just to keep an eye on you and make sure you were fine. He could have always claimed he needed Jiseong’s laptop for whatever excuse his mind would have provided at the time of need.

Letting out a troubled sigh, Jiung could hear your last words to him ringing in his ears. If he had decided to turn a blind eye on the weird happenings now, he would have turned into what you had hated the most in people like him. People with the proper background to make a real difference, but no desire to change what was wrong. He might have refused to believe you had been right about everything, nor did he think he was a bad person just because his values and beliefs were different from yours, but he couldn’t have lied to himself. Something about the Dream House project was fishy.

So Jiung sat on the chair and turned on the computer before he could have lost his courage. He checked every folder and every file systematically, then opened Jiseong’s email services and read through his mails, too. The more he saw, the less suspicious his brother appeared to be and the more guilty he felt, but it was too late to turn back. So he kept reading, until he did find something.

It was a forwarded email Jiseong had never replied to or if he had done so, he had already deleted the evidence. The original letter was a report on the break-in to the medical centre; the person claimed there had been three or four suspects, but no gender, approximate age or physical features had been stated. The first response was about the punishment of the guards who had been working that night; the second one was an ID number; the third said: it’s done. Collateral damage: one person.

Jiung’s hands were trembling slightly when in the last email attached to the conversation there was a follow-up report from his uncle. It had been sent at five in the morning, mere hours ago, and it said they were ready for shipping.

‘What the…’ he murmured under his nose, finding it hard to process that these people might have been talking about you.

Jiung deleted the search history and closed the browser. He turned off the computer and took a moment to think. Should he have visited his uncle’s researcher centre on his own or should he have told Keeho about these emails like he knew the older boy wanted him to? Should he have tried to figure out what was going on in the legal way or gone behind his uncle’s back, too, lacking spare time to waste? What had they meant by shipping anyway?

Before he left the office, Jiung took a quick look at the interior from above his shoulder, then stepped out to the hallway and fished his phone out of his pocket. He called Keeho and when it went to voicemail, he sent the older boy a cryptic text about how he needed him as soon as possible.

A rational part of Jiung was aware he needed backup, but he wouldn’t have waited hours just to hear back from his friend.

Luckily, Keeho had reached out to Jiung within an hour, hence the two boys could meet up at the 7-Eleven across from the research centre around three. If Jiung wanted to be honest, it was the worst time either of them could have picked: it wasn’t close to lunch break nor did it align with anything else that could have drawn the attention from them, but he didn’t want to wait until closing time. He wanted to check every room on every floor as soon as possible in case, for some reason, you and Soul were in there.

The more he thought about it, the more this place seemed like the perfect cover-up and this thought drove him up the wall.

‘Sorry we’re late,’ a familiar voice demanded attention, followed by a loud, screeching sound as the intruder pulled out the metal chair and sat next to Jiung. Intak’s smile was too wide for the older boy’s liking, but at least it didn’t look genuine. The visible distress that blended into his friend’s cheery facial expression made Jiung feel less paranoid even though he would have gladly accepted that he was overreacting and let the guys make fun of him if that had meant you and Soul were chilling somewhere in the countryside.

‘Why are you here in the first place?’ Jiung asked, his gaze sliding from Intak to Theo who also took a seat by the table in the meantime.

‘Duh. Cause I’m the best thief you know and you’re about to break into the enemy’s lair in broad daylight?’ Intak’s question was dripping with sarcasm, his cold tone making it sound more like a statement. Jiung bit back a nasty comment about how Soul would exceed him in no time with his connections all across the city because thinking of the younger came hand in hand with thinking of you and he couldn’t have that.

Jiung put his elbows on the table and intertwined his fingers. He raised a brow as he looked at Theo, the silent question why he was there hanging in the air.

At first, Theo’s response was no more than a shrug, but as the tension became palpable, he let out a defeated sigh. It was clear, he didn’t think he needed to explain himself, especially because both Soul and you were a part of their friends group.

‘Someone’ll need to stand guard.’ It wasn’t something Jiung could argue with even though he would have liked to believe that even if they had gotten caught, his connection to the head of the institute could have gotten them out of trouble. The thing was, he couldn’t say it for sure anymore and this uncertainty and his sudden lack of trust in his own blood were stressing him out. If the boy’s thoughts hadn’t returned to your disappearance every two minutes, he might have already broken down due to the revelations he had needed to face in the last twenty-four hours.

‘Cool. Now, let’s order something and talk about the plan,’ Intak proposed, earning a judging side-eye from Jiung and a frown from Keeho when he pushed his chair back, making more space for himself to be able to stand up and walk up to the counter. ‘What? You chose a café for this group meeting. It’s pretty suspicious if we don’t order anything,’ he put his weight on his palms, leaning closer to the boys over the table.

Jiung let out a scoff.

‘I’ll have one small iced cappuccino,’ Keeho broke the growing silence before he changed his mind. ‘You know what? I’m coming with you. We’ll be back in a minute.’

Instead of following his friends with his eyes, Jiung’s gaze stuck on the massive building on the other side of the road. He couldn’t not feel like in a matter of mere hours, the life he had been living would cease to exist for good. Whether because his own uncle and step-brother were parts of a mafia-like system he had been blind to all this time or because he had chosen to betray them when he had decided to paint them as the enemy, it didn’t matter. Their bond that had been built on trust would break beyond repair once Jiung broke into the research centre. It might have already done so when he had read through his hyung’s emails.

‘You won’t turn on us, will you?’ Theo’s question pulled the blond boy back to the present, his sharp eyes cutting deep into his being. He didn’t blame his friend, though, even if the assumption that he would have left them behind to save himself was offensive.

His pride could take this much.

‘I want to get them back,’ Jiung said firmly, hoping that the sincerity in his voice would be enough and Theo didn’t expect him to come up with a whole monologue about how he was ready to go against his own family and burn Seoul down to the ground to find you. Because honestly, he wasn’t ready for any of those. He wasn’t ready to face the elephant in the room.

‘And that’s what we’ll do,’ Keeho patted the blond boy’s shoulder, taking a seat next to Theo while Intak sat back on the empty metal chair on Jiung’s side. He slid a small cup of black coffee towards the younger and took a sip from his mint choco frappé.

‘Which part of the building we want to infiltrate first?’ Intak asked and Jiung also let out an amused laugh when he saw the other boy fishing out a worn laptop from his backpack. Neat, serious and responsible weren’t adjectives Jiung would have ever used to describe his hyung, but he sure took this job seriously. It was actually pretty impressive.

‘The sixth floor and the basement. You need a special keycard to get to both or the elevator won’t start,’ Jiung said, going into more details about the security system although his knowledge was very limited. He had been in the research centre only twice and both times he had been left with his father’s secretary in the canteen while his father and uncle had been talking about business.

The soft clatter of the keyboard filled the air and embraced Jiung with its normality; he took a sip from his coffee and let the warmth spread in his body. He might have hated the thought of his friends getting in trouble because of his fixation on your sudden disappearance, but a selfish part of him found solace in their presence. He wasn’t alone.

‘Okay guys, we’ll do it this way,’ Intak spoke up after a couple of mumbled swear words and a delighted hum that reverberated through all of them. He pushed the laptop further from himself so that everyone could take a look at the screen, then pointed at the live footage of one of the security cameras inside the building. ‘Based on their social media posts and public appearances, these two researchers are the easiest to lead on. Out of the two, this one here, Dr. Kim Ryeowook is the one who possesses one of the six magic cards to the elevator.’

‘You figured these all out, skimming through a few Facebook posts?’ Jiung raised a brow and it was actually Theo who shook his head first, reaching out to the laptop and clicking on the tab next to the one everyone was staring at.

‘Actually, it’s a text analysis software we still need to work on with Beomgyu for one of our classes. Once it’s finished, it’ll help people make decisions, like solving complex problems for them, based on the imported information,’ he explained, slapping Intak’s hands away so that he could check the accuracy of the information.

‘Oh, okay! That’s cool,’ Jiung nodded to himself, letting the guy overwrite what he needed to overwrite before he confirmed the prediction.

Dr. Kim Ryeowook. The man was currently walking down the hallway on the second floor. If they were lucky, they could snatch his keycard and sneak it back into his coat’s oversized pocket before his shift ended around six.

Jiung’s heart was about to explode when the elevator’s doors closed behind their back and he caught sight of the sterile interior of the sixth floor. As they were running low on time, he was only with Keeho while Intak searched through the basement, his humming deafening even from the other side of the call that kept them connected.

‘Could you please focus? Look for papers, anything about shipping can be important,’ Jiung scolded his friend while they walked down the eerie hallways that led from the elevator to the laboratories. Although they were both dressed in the white coats of the researchers’ uniform, the boy couldn’t have said he felt disguised enough. In fact! He felt as though they were both sticking out like sore thumbs. They were walking too slowly, the caution in their steps almost alarming.

‘I don’t know about you, guys, but I don’t think they’re storing papers in here,’ Intak’s voice sounded almost pained before his words got replaced by a very forced, very loud coughing fit. Jiung furrowed his eyebrows and exchanged a glance with Keeho.

‘What are yo—’

‘Fuck! Is this a freaking liver?’ Intak asked in terror, his question tugging on Jiung’s insides forcefully, making him nauseas. Because while it was a known fact that the employees at his uncle’s research centre were looking for ways to cure incurable diseases, Jiung would have never thought their vaccines and experimental medicines were tested on human organs. Sure, it must have been less cruel than testing them on living, breathing people, but the method still sent an unpleasant shiver down his spine.

Looking at Keeho and listening to Intak’s uneven breathing, his friends had to be of the same opinion.

‘Guys, some of the organs have the same set of numbers…’ Intak didn’t have to finish the sentence, it was obvious what that meant. Yet, he still forced the words out. ‘I think they belonged to the same person. Livers, kidneys, hearts. The list is endless,’ he said.

Jiung hadn’t realised he was shaking until Keeho wrapped his fingers around his wrist and stopped the uncontrollable trembling of his left arm.

‘Don’t touch anything. Take pictures if you can, but stay alert,’ Keeho instructed, then pulled Jiung forwards.

The two picked up their pace and walked down the hallway with purpose in each one of their steps. When they reached the first door on the left side, Jiung reached for the handle with his sweater paw covering his hand, then pushed it down so that they could enter.

Inside, there were two dozens of hospital beds, unconscious people tied to the meal structure of the furniture, high-tech machines monitoring their vitals. It shouldn’t have been as scary as it felt with the eerie silence filling the atmosphere.

‘Do you thin—’

Jiung didn’t let Keeho finish his question. He had to stay focused; if the older boy had asked him whether you and Soul were in one of these rooms, in one of these beds, his thoughts would have tried to come up with an answer and ended up being all over the place.

‘I’ll check the beds on the left,’ the blond boy volunteered, simultaneously praying that you weren’t one of these people and that you were here so he could get you out of here.

Jiung’s movements were frantic by the time he got to the last patient - victim? - at the end of the row without being able to touch you. He snapped his head towards Keeho who was taking pictures of the sick, fighting his frustrated tears, in hope of good news.

Neither of you was in the room. Or in the next one, or in the third.

‘I found him! Jiung, quick!’ Keeho exclaimed, his hands already working on detaching the machine from Soul’s fragile body. Jiung could taste bile in his mouth when he saw the bloody dressing around the pale boy’s torso. He couldn’t see the wound and he had never been particularly good at Biology, but he had a faint idea that the red line across the textile was somewhere around his friend’s right kidney.  

‘Hy-hyung,’ Soul mumbled weakly, his half-lidded eyes barely open and his lips a mixture of lilac and blue as his head fell on Keeho’s shoulder. It took everything in Jiung to not throw his million questions at him about you and his family members like a spoiled child.

‘It’s okay. We’ll get you out of here. You’re safe now,’ the older boy whispered against the boy’s temple, then looked around, searching for something. Jiung couldn’t stop thinking of… ‘That wheelchair! Jiung-ah, we need to put Shota into that wheelchair.’

The urgency in Keeho’s voice pulled Jiung back to the present and he rushed to the other side of the room to get one of the wheelchairs for Soul. Keeho was right, there was no way they could have sneaked their friend out of the research centre when he was in a half-unconscious state. A patient in a wheelchair might have been a tad less suspicious than a lax body hanging from their shoulder. Though, a voice in the back of his mind said neither was a common sight in the building.

Jiung’s entire body tensed up when Intak dropped the phone on the other side of the call. The younger’s curses and his desperate ‘No, no, no!’ froze his blood even though Intak’s voice was barely above a whisper due to the sudden distance between him and the electronic device.

Contemplating whether he should have helped Keeho with Soul or pleaded Intak to give them an explanation of what was going on in the basement, Jiung let out a frustrated sigh while he was keeping the wheelchair in place.

‘Intak! Intak! What’s wrong?’ Jiung tried to gain the boy’s attention, but it wasn’t working. So they exchanged a worried glance with Keeho and came up with a plan: they checked the last room on the sixth floor, then the older got Soul out of the building while Jiung went down the basement to collect their friend (and whatever he might have found or encountered with).

Jiung hoped it wasn’t one of the security guards who had caught him red-handed, but if it had been, he was Intak’s best chance to get out of trouble. And that was the least he could do for his friend as without him, they might have never gotten to Soul.

The thought that he might have been facing his uncle’s rage at any moment should have been more terrifying. Jiung had no doubt about it that under different circumstances, mere weeks ago, he would have shitted his pants from the presumption that he had messed up so bad, the old man needed to be involved in the situation. But as he was running in search of his friend, passing by shelves full of glass containers and what not, he feared whatever triggered Intak’s uncharacteristic reaction the most.

It didn’t take long for Jiung to find the room with the open door. On the contrary, it became pretty easy once he got within hearing range, because Intak’s painful wailing echoed off the walls and surrounded him on the empty corridor.

Trying to regulate his nerves, the first thing Jiung noticed when he crossed the threshold was how the room was slightly colder than the rest of the basement he had raced through. Then, the sour and irritating smell of vomit and formaldehyde.

‘Intak.’ Jiung crouched down in front of the younger boy, cupping his face with his own, trembling hands, so that the boy could take notice of his presence. He had never been particularly good at comforting others, but he had seen Keeho do it to the boys enough times to have a vague idea about what he should have done.

Jiung pulled his friend’s snotty and tear-stained face against his chest and patted his blade bones gently, for a calming rhythm. Meanwhile, he looked around the room with his chin resting on top of Intak’s head, trying to figure out what could have happened.

‘She… she’s… no-hoh,’ Intak cried out desperately as he grabbed Jiung’s arm and held onto him stronger, body shaking from the threat of another pile of bile-filled vomit. Jiung looked down at the boy and closed his eyes. Should he have reminded him that they had to leave the basement soon? Should he have asked for answers?

Keeho would have rocked him back and forth until he calmed down, but Jiung was afraid they didn’t have enough time.

‘Intak, we need to leave. The keycard, we…’ The rest of the words stuck in Jiung’s throat when Intak pushed him away aggressively, shaking his head and screaming frantically as though the blond boy said something unforgivable.

‘We, no! We have to… we need to! No!’ He protested, crawling backwards on his hands and feet until his head crashed against an open compartment in the wall. With bold, palm-sized characters, there was a number written on it: 0327.

Now that Jiung paid more attention to the odd-looking doors on the right side of the room, his anxiety started to pick up. He pushed himself into a standing position and walked past Intak, trying to take a better look at the inside of the compartment. It must have been the younger who had opened it, which could mean that whatever was in there had triggered his hysterical reaction.

Jiung’s brows were knitted together in confusion when he felt a hand on his ankle. He looked down at his friend, who was shaking his head, mouthing his objections so quietly, the blond boy didn’t hear a word.

He turned back towards the compartment and pulled it entirely open. The piece of white clothing that was hiding the thing underneath was as big as a comforter. Although it brought no warmth or comfort when removing it, Jiung’s gaze fell on a pile of chewed out skin. There were no bones, no organs inside the violated corpse, only damaged skin and a head with more stitches, indicating that he couldn’t have found the brain inside of the skull, either.

Jiung fell on his knees when he recognized the ghost of your features on the corpse’s face. He coughed up bile and that little food he had in his stomach before the first tears rolled down his cheeks. He felt sick.

Neither of the boys could have told how long they were cursing and crying in that room with your corpse mere centimetres from them, but at one point Intak’s ringtone overpowered their sobs and pulled them out of their heads. Although Intak was closer, it was Jiung who reached out for the abandoned device and received the call, his voice hoarse and weak that did barely a thing to alarm the caller on the other side.

‘What the hell guys! You have to get out of there! Dr. Kim is already looking for his keycard, they are on their way to the sixth floor and I’m pretty sure the basement will be the next,’ Keeho said, panic and worry evident in each one of his words.

Jiung looked at Intak, then shifted his gaze to the open compartment. A part of him knew that there was no way they could have taken your remains without throwing up at each corner on the way out, that letting the others see you like this, especially Soul, would have traumatised them for life. He was also aware that as stubborn as you were - had been -, you would have wanted him to pull himself together and get the hell out of there before those who had done this to you would have done the same with the people you cared - had cared - about.

But it was so freaking hard to leave you there or to get up from the floor.

‘Are you listening to me? Please, guys, come out! Whatever there is, it’s not worth it, please, guys, please!’ Keeho was pleading, forcing Jiung’s limbs to move.

‘We’re on our way, hyung. Stop worrying so much,’ he forced out the sassy reply to ease the older’s nerves before he hung up the call and shoved the phone into his pocket.

Considering that cleaning up their vomit wasn’t an option, Jiung didn’t bother with checking the room for potential evidence they could have left behind. On the other hand, he put the textile back on your corpse and made sure the compartment you were laying in was closed before he opened another one and took pictures of another damaged body. He didn’t have the heart to do the same to yours.

Dragging Intak out of the basement was time-consuming and by the time they reached the elevator, Jiung’s muscles were screaming for a break, but he pushed himself until they were out of the building. The boy knew that their initial plan had been to sneak the keycard back into Dr. Kim’s pocket or at least leave it at the reception desk as though someone had found it accidentally at one point of the day, but with the mess they had left in the morgue room, these kinds of details had lost their importance.

Instead, they crossed the street to get to the coffee shop’s parking lot at a speed that didn’t draw too much attention, then got in Theo’s old car and refused to talk about what they had found in the basement until they got somewhere safe in the outskirts of Seoul.

The shocking news of your death lingered around the boys like smoke: sickening, ugly, bad. They couldn’t get rid of it and it threatened their health, especially Soul’s who refused to eat or drink anything for days despite his weak state until Keeho aggressively shoved some plain porridge down his throat.

Intak and Jiung weren’t that much better. Jiung just knew you would have lectured him for his self-harming behaviour if you had seen him skip his meals, so he forced himself to chew and gulp without the slightest care for the taste of the dishes Keeho put on the table. They could have been the saltiest, most disgusting soups and porridges of his life, the boy wouldn’t have noticed.

Although they didn’t know whom they could trust, the boys agreed on one thing: they needed to show the country, if not the world, the real faces of those monsters who led their nation since the first wave of the pandemic. They had to make people see how terrible they were, so horrible, inhuman things like this could have never happened again. 

The problem was that even when they tried to upload the pictures they had taken on the web, they got taken down almost immediately. Then, after two weeks of futile attempts at sharing the evidence with the citizens of South Korea, the news was filled with the same lie on every damned channel: a group of young people committing terrorist acts against the country.

Honestly, Jiung knew that he had burnt down all the bridges when he had chosen his friends and the truth over his family, but seeing his ID picture next to those photos that the people in power had chosen to put on display in the media was numbing. He felt too many emotions at once to distinguish any of them properly. He couldn’t even say he was angry: the word itself did no justice to the thunderstorm inside his chest.

‘We can’t give up now,’ Soul said and Jiung tore his gaze from the screen of his tablet to look at the younger. He still looked so fragile, but as he balled up his fists and opened his mouth for Keeho to feed him some soup, he finally had some colour to his cheeks.

‘We won’t,’ Jiung promised and for the first time in weeks, the silence that followed his statement didn’t drain him. If anything, this newfound determination gave them all another reason to find a way to stop this madness.

Not even twelve hours after their faces were plastered all over the capital city, a girl called Elijah reached out to Jongseob, claiming that she and her uncle had seen the photos Jiung had taken of the damaged corpse before they had gotten taken down and that they wanted to help them fight against the system. It was freaking suspicious and at first, they decided to ignore it altogether. However, when Soul pointed out that Jongseob hadn’t been at the Dream House with them, nor had he joined them when they had broken into the research centre, they talked through their options one more time.

And they decided to follow the instructions of this faceless person towards a place that was promised to be safe for them in two groups just in case it was a trap.

Jiung, Soul and Keeho were the first ones to leave the city. They took Theo’s car, saying one of them would come back for the rest of them if things were really safe, then followed the GPS signals given to them real time by this Elijah girl who hacked into its system.

‘What do you think we will find when we get there?’ Keeho asked from behind the driver’s seat, his voice low on purpose to not wake up Soul who had fallen asleep in the backseat.

Jiung shrugged.

‘Dunno. Two more hours and we’ll find out,’ he stated, looking out the window, taking in the scenery. The countryside looked so peaceful and slow from the inside of the car, but he knew it was only the illusion of obliviousness. He refused to believe that there was any place in this country that hadn’t been corrupted by the government. He knew that the outside world was just as rotten as his life was without the rose-tinted glasses he had been wearing all these years.

Shaking his head, the boy tried not to think about the last conversation he had had with you. Still, he wished he had listened to what you had been saying. He wished he had stopped you when you had turned your back on him and walked away, visibly wary. You had given him so many chances to understand. Yet, here he was, figuring out too late:

History was made by monsters dressed as saints.

the end.

[val-of-the-north]

OKAY IMPORTANT UPDATE SO Crow convinced me that the more appropriate Type Of A Guy group is Allant, Gwyn, Aldia, Aldrich, Micolash and Shabriri, and it was actually Laurence who I unofficial 7th member because his portrayal and being pair item with Micolash is very speculative even if reasonable. As we in Russia say, пока запишем карандашом. I'd now ask you to write something funny and cringey for new super cool updated cast thanks to that CHICKEN, but this will just come across as me barely concealing my simping -_-" So I'll just ask for YOU to rate The Guys. You need to speak your opinions more, it is always good shit

Noooooo now I have to ramble about characters I hate that, fuck you. I hate rating people lol. But fineeeee:

Number 6 - Micolash lmaoripbozo

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Ok ok, that's not actually true... I think my actual number 6 for the time being might be Shabriri. That doesn't mean I hate the guy, but he is simply a fucking dick. Like, so far he's the only one with not a droplet of cohesive motivation, and ending the suffering of everyone seems like a front for his true desire of seeing chaos consume reality. I like myself a seemingly pure evil baddie, but if I have to rate him with all the other dudes, he sorta pales in comparison. Maybe the DLC will expand on his philosophy and what he did before he had the Nomads entombed and decided to set the world ablaze with chaos. He IS very fun though, I will give him that lmao.

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At number 5 I'd probably put Allant, though he might be subject to change whenever I get to play Demon's Souls. As was stated a bunch, he is a more depressed Shabriri, which makes him more genuine. His desire to end the suffering of mankind is true, unlike the previous prick, even if his methods of attaining that are fucked beyond compare. And that's the problem with him lol.

He only increased the world's suffering exponentially, because that's arguably what benefits the soul-hungry demons in the long run. He failed the one thing he wanted to do and probably doesn't even see it because he is too blinded by his own suffering and hatred of life. He is the reason his kingdom is run by corrupt officials, that his son gives up on life, and that most of his people have become food for unfeeling abominations. He is a weak leader. There's nothing wrong with being weak, but you are not supposed to drag the world down with you the way he decided to do...

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Number 4 was hard to place since I am still not sure what I am rating them for... so far it seems to be the complexity of their motivations/actions and the way they went about them. I guess this spot could go to Micolash in this case. Most of his motivations (if they even are his, and not just those of the School of Mensis as a whole) are context-heavy, which isn't really good in terms of building a compelling case as to why he should be above someone like Allant... still, the amount of cut content centered around him points to him having had a much richer role than what meets the eye, which I believe boost the likelihood that his character is well-defined even in the full game.

(To be honest, even if we know very little of that version of him, I suspect I would have liked him more like that lmao.)

His pursuit of knowledge probably had a concrete goal before it spiraled into what we see in-game. Despite its horrible fuckups, the Healing Church did start out genuinely seeking ways to better humanity, but it distanced from it the more it continued. The Choir, where he and most of Mensis probably originates, already sought to abandon their human roots, and the school he was part of likely did so even more. But they wouldn't seek guidance from the Great Ones, they'd become on par with them.

And to rise above humanity they did unspeakable things... some of them didn't even make any sense. Why stitch together those horrible corpse beasts? Why switch the heads of two animals? Why cram all those human remains into one casket? Not to mention all the people that were kidnapped: half of them were strapped to chairs and the other half turned to stone and merged into the walls. Everything just to try and proceed with a deranged ritual that was only made possible by desecrating an infant and its mother.

And when you finally meet him he is just rambling to himself, all alone and surrounded only by corpse puppets, Edgar and the occasional attendant. He has been stuck between those halls for long enough that his body has been mummified, and doesn't seem to have made any significant progress. He has likely lost his mind, rendering whatever it was that he was seeking worthless. But hey, at least he was closer than anyone to finding out about Kos from outside the Hunter's Nightmare, so I guess we can give him that.

Also his cut dialogue is pretty emotional, and makes me wonder just how different he was before he lost his mind... I ultimately think I have a soft spot for him ahahah

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Number 3 is Gwyn, but it was really close with Aldrich on this one, lol. I decided his goals were assuredly less complex/noble, even though his means weren't as grotesque. To be honest, I think he's a pretty maligned character, for good reasons mind you. He effectively screwed over everyone in an attempt to keep the status quo intact, and before that, he took several preventive measures that just made life miserable for people in the long run. All of this paints a rather unflattering picture of Gwyn, and I do not deny this. What I argue against is the reason why he did what he did... to me, Gwyn was genuinely afraid.

Kaathe says Gwyn "trembled at the Dark", he was surely afraid of what darkness and an age of men entailed, especially for his people and family. What he did feels less like something a power-hungry lord who seeks to keep his power intact would do and more like one desperate attempt to delay a force much greater than you. His was a sacrifice in the end, and while his legacy is and will inevitably be cinders in an empty world, what prompted him to do what he did was something understandable, and very human of him ironically enough...

As an aside, I'm actually not super convinced that Gwyn fits neatly into this group of guys either. Honestly, Dark Souls 1 might lack a character that embodies this vibe. Instead, it has several with only bits and pieces of it. I find it more fitting to group him with the likes of Marika and Laurence rather than these other dudes.

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Number 2 is Aldrich as you could have probably guessed. He is an awful awful man, but his course of action is probably the most anyone had been doing before the Unkindled woke up to make DS3 happen lol. The world had reached a point of stagnation when nothing new was happening. The dark threatens the light, but then the flame is kindled again, rinse and repeat again and again and again... he was doing SOMETHING different and prompting change, even if it was in a way that could be considered disgusting, unpleasant and evil. The once beautiful Deep had been turned into a seedbed of filth because of the stagnant nature of reality and this seemingly endless cycle, and he alone saw salvation through a different kind of age. The start of a brand new, different thing.

The path was arduous, the means deranged, but he DID want something more than chaos for chaos' sake, unlike Shabriri. He wanted to change things, but not passively like Allant. He did not lose track of his goal the more he accomplished like Micolash did, and he did not wish to uphold the status quo but rather challenge it, unlike Gwyn. But I really, REALLY understand why everyone sees him and recoils in horror or thinks there's nothing more complex behind his actions than a simple hunger for power and flesh.

But you know Miyazaki, he likes to write characters who do some really awful things but still portrays them as courageous and heroic in their madness and skewed ways. I get the same vibe from Aldrich, but that doesn't mean he wasn't intentionally portrayed the way he was to inspire discomfort or hatred in most players ahahah. Both things can be true at the same time, and they are!

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Lol number 1's Aldia. He's got everything Aldrich has except for his abhorrent mannerisms and vices. He is someone wholly dedicated to the pursuit of answers, and from what I can tell most of his test subjects were people who accepted his invitations to the keep, which was mostly other madmen with a similar desire to break the boundaries of reality. Of course, it wouldn't be a Soulsborne game without a good dose of war crimes, so he did do things to the giants who ended up as prisoners of war during the two conflicts his brother took part in, but he wasn't making chimeras out of them or wasting them in useless experiments at the very least. Heck, he pretty much turned one into a superior being who seems to be all chill.

All horrors he committed in his mansion were for a singular goal: breaking the curse and finding a way out of a played-out cycle, even by the time of DS2. And while the depths of this obsession show some pretty horrible results, he isn't at all the same as Aldrich, who relished in the suffering of his victims. One can find his experiments horrid, but the man himself not so much. He was simply devoted. So devoted in fact that he destroyed himself to the point he was left with nothing but an endlessly-smouldering body. And despite achieving a form that's arguably outside of the cycle, he still saw it as a failure, because it wasn't what he wanted for humanity.

I've heard him get called a fence-sitter because he promotes inaction, but to arrive at such a conclusion you have to ignore everything that led him to his current state, AND his words to the Bearer of the Curse. If anything, this dude probably did everything one could do in the hopes of changing things, I think he is allowed to feel disillusioned at the end of it all without being described as a fence-sitter. In what way is he one anyhow? Both potential ages suck. Any witless fool can just waltz in and burn themselves or let the flame die. Someone like him would literally have zero reasons to care about either outcome because all his work was meant to lead to something beyond it... but he failed and awaited someone else who would challenge the order of the world and succeed where he couldn't.

At the end of the day, I'm not saying he didn't do anything wrong lol, he still did some pretty weird shit... but I don't think it's insane to say that he is more respectable than basically everyone else on this list by virtue of actually being pretty selflessly motivated and for never losing the plot of why he was doing all those things in the first place.

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I still don't know if I did good lmao, but yeah, this is what I think. If you noticed I get more verbose the deeper we go, that was intentional. It's not as if I don't have anything to say about Shabriri (you should know), it's just for the purposes of this "rating". Ultimately they are all prime characters.

[box-architecture]

Things I rotate: Dream recognizing Punz's touch instinctively, calming where he'd usually rail. Punz knowing how to give the perfect hugs with the proper amount of compression, a weighted blanket that Dream burrows into. Punz loving getting to rest his head in the crook of Dreams neck, and nuzzling his hair because it's so soft.

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Binding Dream in ropes was, more often than not, a risky affair. He never liked being confined, and prison had increased the feeling exponentially. It wasn't impossible, but it always came with the possibility of panic, if his mood shifted in just the wrong way.

Luckily, Punz's arms, wrapped around Dream and pulling him tight to their chest, had never registered as anything but safe to him, even as he thrashed and struggled under their ministrations.

"Sam," Dream sobbed. "Sam please-"

Sam didn't pause from his exploration of Dream's slit. He sucked lightly on the clit before moving back to the velvety folds, pushing Dream's thighs out farther just to expose him more.

Punz had their cock buried deep inside his other hole, but they didn't thrust. Instead, Sam got to watch their eyes darken with contentment as they held Dream like a lifeline and buried their nose in his hair. They looked so happy, and Sam couldn't help but purr in response.

Dream trembled as the vibrations traveled over the sensitive flesh. "Sammy-"

The old nickname had Sam kneading the bed. Yes, he was Dream's Sammy, and he was going to take such good care of him. He'd pull another orgasm out of his Dream, and maybe another after that, until Dream was incoherent with pleasure.

He licked the place where Punz's cock met Dream's rim, causing Punz to jolt up and the couple to cry out as they thrusted. Punz panted, glaring at Sam, but their lips twitched in amusement, and he wagged his tail before burying his tongue deep into Dream's slit.

"I can't," Dream shrieked. He turned his face away to keep the sceams from hurting Punz's ears. "I can't. Not again. I can't I can't I can't-"

"Color, Dream?" Punz murmured into his ear. Dream gasped.

"Green."

That was all Sam needed. He licked a stripe all the way to his clit, dipping his fingers inside to feel Dream clench down. While they had made Dream cum several times already, he could take one more, couldn't he? One more? He was made for it, after all. Made to take what they gave him.

Punz bit lightly on his ears, hugging Dream tighter when he struggled. Sam couldn't help himself and reached a hand out to pin his bucking hips. It was so good to have him, to trace his folds and keep him still. Sam forced himself to stay still and not rut uselessly against the bed. Later, he promised himself.

[in-a-bucket]

Whit character analysis because this dude makes my brain go brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

Uh spoilers for all of drdt i guess? Idk better safe then sorry

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Ok, so it probably wouldn’t take much scrolling through my tumblr blog to figure out who my favorite despair time character is, can you blame me tho? I’ve always had a lot of thoughts about Whit floating around in my brain ever since I’ve gotten into drdt, but the amount of thoughts has exponentially increased since ch 2 part 1 finished a few days ago. I think we can all agree there’s something odd about Whit, The first time I really noticed it was right after Min’s execution. It was super gresome, probably one of the hardest to watch I’ve ever seen both in canon dr and fangans. This execution had Veronika of all people shook to their core, but Whit...

Uh, you are aware she literally got torn apart by wolves, right Whit? Hu even kinda calls him out on his comment immediately after this. Most people when they see a person die in front of them, they usually react with horror, fear, anger, sadness, you get the gist, but here Whit seems, mildly annoyed? I don’t really think that’s the best way to describe his reaction but either way, it’s too underwhelming for watching someone die right in front of you, especially in such a horrible way as Min’s execution was.

Ok then, does this mean Whit is some unfeeling asshole or something, well no, because earlier in this same trial he says this,

I mean this whole entire section shows that Whit isn’t some heartless monster, if he was just doing this for the sake of making sure they didn’t vote for the wrong person he didn’t have to add in stuff like this.

Ok so what’s his deal then, well remember how I said although chapter one got the brainworms started, but chapter 2 increased them exponentially. Well in chapter 2 it starts to become a lot more prevalent how odd Whit acts when it comes to death and the killing game as a whole.

He does this...

Making a joke about Min’s horrific death, having that kind of reaction to seeing Arei’s dead body, it’s not normal, at all if we take into consideration everything we’ve discussed so far, it just doesn’t make sense, especially cause he has moments like this,

Like the way I see this, he just seems to be really understanding of other people, and their feelings and circumstances, so it just seems super odd that he doesn’t really take death or the killing game itself for the matter all that seriously.

So basically, Whit’s a walking contradiction, why exactly is he like this? Well I believe it has to do with his secret.

His secret is worded exactly like this: “Your mother is dead, you always omit that truth”

I always found the way his secret was worded to be interesting, it’s extremely vague. Arturo’s secret also involves a dead family member, but that one specifies that the cause of death was suicide and that Arturo himself was involved somehow, now it’s highly likely this was worded in a way to make Arturo look as bad as possible, so what does this have to do with Whit’s secret? Well it’s a bit odd, his secret doesn’t make any mention of how or when his mom died, and the only way Whit is brought up is that he hides that truth, but it doesn’t imply that he was responsible in any way. It’s interesting that some secrets are more vague than others.

There’s also some other stuff you could analyze from it. Take the first part of Charles’s secret, “your older brother died” vs. “your mother is dead”, when you look at those two statements, don’t they mean the same thing? Why word them differently if they basically mean they same thing. Well Charles’s is worded in the past tense whereas Whit’s is worded in the present tense, why is that? Although this is more my personal opinion, Whit’s feels more like and intense statement, a fact that can not be ignored, this is what’s real here and now, which ties in to the latter part of Whit’s secret. He omits the truth, he denies it, but he can’t run away from it now that’s there written on paper, there for everyone to see.

So what does this all have to do with Whit’s contradictory behavior. Well I think it’s highly likely that Whit witnessed his mom’s death, whether it was an accident, a suicide, a murder or something else, he saw it all and, to put it bluntly, it broke him. He simply couldn’t handle the idea that his mom, someone he clearly loved a lot and cared about, as evidenced by what he said in chapter 1 with Teruko and Charles, was suddenly not there anymore. This was probably the absolute worse case scenario in Whit’s mind, and what do you do with a bad situation, you make it better of course! And that’s exactly what Whit did, even though his mom was dead he convinced himself that everything was completely fine in order to cope. If he remembers all of the good things about her, then she’s basically still here, and that means everything is fine, right? 

Now I’m gonna take a shot in the dark and guess that Whit’s mom probably died around time Whit was in middle school (so like 13 or 14 yrs old), I don’t really think she died when he was like elementary school age, and based on the way Whit acts in the prologue it wasn’t like super recent either. Considering he is able to identify his own secret during the ch 2 trial, his mom didn’t die with in the years that got erased from the students. Now middle school up till freshman year of college is plenty of time to develop a terrible coping mechanism, especially because it seems to be implied that was a pretty lonely guy, his dad worked overseas a lot and according to his character page, he doesn’t have any luck with love either, it’s possible he did have friends growing up but maybe his relationship with them fell apart after his mom died. Either way, it’s inevitable something like that would fester without a good support system.

Now several years later, Whit is thrust into this killing game and he is faced with people dying in front of him again, so he does what he knows best, pretends that everything is completely fine and that they’re all gonna get out of this somehow. so he tries to focus on the positives and tries to make a generally more positive atmosphere by cracking jokes every chance he gets, since dealing with the positives is way easier than dealing with the negatives. Thus stuff like this happens,

No it’s not alright Whit there is a dead body in front of you.

His hidden quote fits with this idea too, “We tend to idolize the dead”. It’s an accurate statement in real life, when people die we try to remember the good things about them from when they were alive. This is what Whit does, just to an unhealthy extreme.

There’s even this line from the FTEs which technically aren’t canon, but it still gives you a pretty good idea of Whit’s thinking process

Ya know shove all of your negative emotions down and away and only focus on the positive ones, this will totally not backfire in any way.

It also makes sense why he has the talent he has, to enjoy making other people happy with fulfilling relationships as a way to distract himself from his own pain.

So, where exactly does Whit go from here as a character? Well first of all I’m like 99% sure he’ll survive chapter 2, there’s evidence that shows he’s unlikely to be the killer and from a writing standpoint, if Whit were to be killed off now, then the only purposes he would’ve served in the story was comic relief and to give Charles some character development, so basically it’d be a waste to kill him off in chapter 2. I will say this though, if both Charles and Whit are still alive by chapter 6 that is a huge red flag and that probably means Whit’s the MM, I think the most likely out come is one or the other dies. I used to be super confident on Charles living and Whit dying but honestly, Charles is developing faster than I thought he would, so it could go either way. But I get the feeling the the peak of their arc will happen in chapter 4 (maybe 3, but I feel more confident about 4).

Under the assumption I made previously, chapter 3 happens as normal (whatever that is lol), but once ch 3 ends and ch 4 starts a certain someone has noticed that Whit is the only person who has yet to crack in any way, shape or form. So motive or no, Veronika starts to craft a plan, in order to make this killing game as fun as possible and to finally break her stubborn classmate. I could see this going one of two ways. Either Veronika kills Charles and pins the crime on Whit or she creates an elaborate trap for Whit to accidentally set off killing her or one of the other students. Personally I prefer option (and not just because Whit get’s to live), but because it allows for his character development to be explored in later chapters. Basically once the body is discovered, you can tell Whit is barely holding it together and then like midway through the trial he finally starts to crack. Then in like the aftermath of the trial it asl comes crashing down for him, everything that he forced himself to believe to make life easier he can no longer believe and its just ajkldlkjdljdalkfhlkfahafkkdhfsklfslkhfsakhj.

Anyway I’m probably gonna post this, go to bed, and wake up tomorrow and realize there’s more I want to add but that’s life I guess. I’ll probably end up making more whit posts anyways once the people I talk to discord start get my brain going.

This probably sucks but idc I have so much Whit brainrot you people have no idea.

[moonfurthetemmie]

Imagine real quick. You have spent one hundred years trying to make the world a better place. Some people say your methods aren't...ideal, but you're confident you're making a positive impact.

You have created so many new branches since you first founded your organization. There's medical research. An exceptional hospital. An orphanage. Apartments. Rehab for criminals and addicts.

Most everyone you know is here. Your friends. Maybe a few you'd think of as family, though after all this time you can't really bring yourself to get too close to anyone. Especially after them. But still.

This is your home. Your life's work. You've poured your heart and soul into this.

And now imagine, one day, somehow, it was all destroyed.

No warning. The castle that had served as your base of operations--you're home--has been turned to dust.

You know there were no survivors. Their emotions burned so brightly, and now there was an empty void. The only ones who'd survived were you, and maybe a few of the teams you sent out earlier that day.

In an instant, everything you had was ripped away. Everything.

And you know exactly who did it.

This is how Lucidity ended up losing his goddamn mind.

I was just going to have one big essay with some vaguely defined sections, but then I realized it was so ungodly long it'd probably take three years to read, so i'm going to cut it into three or four (or. maybe five?) pieces. This is part 1.

The Catalyst

It started with the resistance in JMV finding Dreamswap.

At this point in time, Nightshade and Dark have unofficially moved into the manor. Nightshade has decided helping Shale would be entertaining (also they’re gay), and Dark is trying to quietly and gently get Jade out of there (with little success, presently). The resistance is not having a good time with Jet now being part of the team.

So, after hearing a lot about JR, Peridot decided to ask Lucidity for help. Some details still need to be ironed out on my end, but she had a whole plan. Their request, a partial solution to suggest, and some way to repay him for his help.

Their potential solution was a weapon they had been working on for a while. An explosive device powered by positivity, which takes the little bit of positivity it’s given and very quickly produces more, before exploding. The explosion would be partly your typical bomb explosion, and partly a violent boom of highly concentrated positivity. A corrupt that survives the initial explosion would more than likely be killed by the positivity.

But they hadn’t been able to test it yet.

Because the only two people in the multiverse left with the Tree’s positive magic are Jade, who’s stuck in the manor, and Quartz, who’s constantly on the run and would probably rather chew her own arm off than give that away.

They may, with an incredible amount of effort on Peridot’s part, have been able to simulate a very small-scale version of it.

But, either because Peridot (a spirit) didn’t come to DreamSwap herself and saw how much magic was just sitting in the air around JR, or they didn’t realize how sensitive the prototype was, they brought it to show Lucidity, and it reacted to the ambient positivity in the area.

This ambience was a result of both Lucidity’s radiant ass living there for about a hundred years, and the positive emotions of the hundreds if not thousands of people who staff and/or live in the castle.

No human or monster can feel it, but any spirit who doesn’t live there (literally anyone except Lucidity) would notice. Immediately.

And it turned out, the weapon didn’t store a certain amount of energy before exploding. It exponentially increased the amount of positivity that it’s given. The strength and concentration of the positivity also affects the size and strength of the less magical part of the explosion.

And there was far more positivity in the air than they could’ve ever hoped to acquire in their home MV.

So…they pretty much brought a radiance nuke to JR and it went off because the air was too magical. There’s a lot of lingering positivity in the area. There will likely be severe consequences in the environment and any life in the area that wasn’t killed by the initial explosion.

It was an accident.

But they would never be able to make it right. Not in their own eyes, and especially not Lucidity’s.

Lucidity was not in JR. But he was in the same universe. He was taking Champion out. He hasn’t been able to get out much with Champ, so he’s taken the whooole day off to both relax and to spend time with his dog.

They’re close enough to the castle that they can see it. And while they’re not close enough to get hurt, they’re close enough that they can feel the shockwave from the explosion. 

Lucidity sees JR start to crumble before the shockwave reaches them. 

Lucidity is losing his shit. He’s very, very not okay. He’s in shock, grieving the loss of damn near everyone he knows, his home, and his lifelong work, and he’s fucking furious.

Lucidity doesn’t know who these people were, but he does know that they were part of an organization. The idiots who brought the weapon noticed it had been activated, and managed to run far enough that they hadn’t been vaporized in the blast. He found their clothes, several meters away from the rubble, and each had an unusual pin with a logo he’d never seen before.

There must’ve been more of them.

And this is the official start of his descent into (relatively) minor madness. 

[anthrofreshtodeath]

Prompt: telling them they deserve better (and silently wanting to be the one who gives it to them)

Thank you !!! 💛

Please don’t give up doing prompt snippets 🙏 yours are always so good 😊

Let's do it! Life got in the way, but this prompt is complete. I ignored the "silently" part, though, whoops.

___

Maura walked down the hall of the fourth floor of BPD, where the staff gym was housed. Sometimes, different departments ran training from the main area, using the padded flooring for de-escalation and self-defense. The rest of the time, employees were free to use the weights and the machines as they pleased. 

Maura arrived at the heavy double doors all the way at the end of the hall, and breathed a sobering breath. There was no slip of paper on it to denote any trainings, and she’d suspected as much. 

This increased the chances that Jane was on the other side of the doors exponentially. 

Maura couldn’t, however, bring herself to open them just yet. Because opening them would mean confronting Jane, precisely what she came to do, but confrontation required guts Maura was unsure she had. 

Tap. Tap. Thump. Tap. Tap. Thump.

Sounds Maura expected to hear. Sounds that signaled that Jane really did exist on the other side, and that Maura had no time to wring her hands over this face to face she’d planned.

Things were dire.

Maura pulled the right door open, and inhaled until her posture turned regal, icy. She needed the Queen of the Dead. Her heels clacked when she marched toward the punching bags. One bag sang against the stale air, air that smelled vaguely like sweat and something sweet, some kind of cleaning supply.

Jane punched it. Repeatedly.

Maura took a moment to study the hits themselves - it wasn’t that it was wild, but she saw rage in Jane’s method. Each third hit in the sequence was her deadliest, the punch she never used when teaching Maura self-defense, or sparring with her. 

Jane meant to be alone, with the demons she battled when she thought no one watched her. Maura thought about clearing her throat, but Jane either wouldn’t hear, or would ignore.

But Jane would never ignore her voice. “Jane,” she said. Firm. Measured. With a not unnoticeable amount of displeasure.

Jane’s next jab thundered into leather, sputtering and corrective. She’d heard, alright. She stopped. “Hey, Maura.” 

Maura studied Jane’s broad, shining shoulders, exposed by her tank top - white and blotched with sweat. When Jane breathed, winded from exertion, Maura stepped closer - learned Jane’s pulse until her own matched it. And that riled her. “I’m here to scold you.”

Jane raised one eyebrow and bared her pretty white teeth when she smirked. “Oh yeah? For what? Tellin’ Frankie not to kiss you? Beatin’ Tommy’s ass outside that bar? Any aspect of the shit storm that has landed on Rizzoli island lately?”

Now, or never, despite Jane’s handsomeness. “None of that. This is about your… your piss poor romantic decisions.”

This time, Jane wavered between pride in Maura’s colloquialism and indignance. “Excuse me?” She said, lips now turned down in a tight frown. 

Maura gulped down some confidence, hoping that when it reached her belly it would eventually metabolize into her bloodstream. She needed it fast. “You heard me. You spent the entire weekend in my home, lamenting that the man who once told you he’d settle down if you married him decided that you were no longer worth it.”

Jane, still taller despite Maura’s footwear, inched closer with a finger in the air. “Hey, you know he-”

Maura stamped one of those feet. “Don’t defend him,” she ordered. Jane froze, finger suspended between them. “Don’t give him any more rope to hang himself. He’s already done it. But here’s what I do not understand, Jane, despite having known you for years now - why would you consent to being treated that way?”

“That’s my business,” Jane replied lamely, dropping her taped hand to her side. “What say do you have in my romantic life?”

“You can claim your independence, your privacy, when you don’t fall apart with me every time he wavers. When you don’t crawl into my bed on the late nights he’s rescinded all his promises. When I don’t even stir because you do it so often now,” Maura hadn’t planned this part of the tirade, but she couldn’t stop. She stood toe-to-toe with Jane, who looked down on her defiant look upwards; she placed her entire right hand on Jane’s shoulder, palm flat. 

When Jane steeled for confrontation, Maura’s hand slipped closer to her clavicle. “You better watch what you say next,” said Jane. The tenor was that of a threat, but there was no bite to it. 

Maura spread her fingers. “Your heart,” she began, and they both looked to where she would be able to feel the roar of the subclavian artery. “It’s crying out for me right now. And it’s crying out for me every time you seek me out. So why? Why accept less than what you deserve? You deserve better.”

Jane deflated. But a small smile accompanied it. “You’re better?”

Maura scoffed. “You don’t think so?” she asserted, however, when she saw Jane’s lips quirk.

“I don’t think there’s anybody better than you,” admitted Jane. “But I also don’t think there’s anyone more scared than me.”

“I can be brave enough for the both of us,” Maura told her. Her hand slipped from Jane’s chest until it fell and caught one of Jane’s fingers. Maura refused to let it go.

[dark-frosted-heart]

Memories of the Beasts - Clavis & Sariel (main route)

We start off with a literal bang in the castle. The trap of the day's an extra large confetti cannon in the drawing room. Fortunately, no guests were hurt; however, several servants were buried under the confetti. While the castle is by no means understaffed, Sariel would like Clavis to stop creating so much unnecessary work.

Clavis: But that trap made our stuffy guests laugh, didn't it? Tomorrow, Nokto should be reporting that negotiations have concluded. A job well done, wouldn't you say?

Sariel: If what you say comes true, then I would be happy. But please improve your methods...is what I've asked at least 1000 times already, but you never learn, do you?

Clavis: Never learn? That should be my line. You're getting old. All that chasing's bad for your lower back.

Sariel cracks his whip at Clavis. His stomach will be the first to suffer before his lower back. Yves, who's also present along with Jin, flinches away from the force of whip. Sariel has to be forceful for it to have any effect on Clavis, Jin says. And then sighs at how neither are acting their age.

Suddenly, another explosion goes off. Oh, Clavis threw a pepper bomb and fled. And there goes Sariel chasing after Clavis again. Jin recalls hearing about how sprinting strengthens one's lower back. But at the cost of exponentially increasing stress, Yves responds back. Once the footsteps fade, Jin decides to get a drink.

~~

That night, Jin, Sariel, Leon, Yves, and Licht are at a bar. For a job well done on clearing up all the traps today, drinks will be on Jin. Sariel's drinks, not Leon's. Yves ordered some food for Sariel so that he doesn't drink on an empty stomach. He also cancelled Jin's cake order because he already reached his daily sugar intake.

Sariel's already downed his ale in a matter of seconds. The bar's got a great selection so he'll be trying them all out...is what he'd like to do. Clavis has been giving him a very hard time recently. Leon points out that his cup's creaking. Jin tells Sariel to take a deep breath, the cup did nothing wrong here.

Yves brings up how despite being on bad terms nowadays, Sariel and Clavis used to be teacher and student. They'd been together for so long, Yves wonders if they were false memories from when he was a child. Leon adds that Clavis learned how to pick locks from Sariel. The bureaucrat had no idea that would be the start of a teacher-student relationship or turn Clavis into a hellcat. Jin still remembers the time when Clavis would follow Sariel around like a duckling.

To this day, Sariel still sighs and finds himself wondering what happened. He pauses, as if a thought came to him, but brushes it off. Since Clavis has become full hellcat, he can't go back to the way he was as a kid. The best he can do is be a step ahead of him to minimize casualties. Jin says that without Sariel around, every day would be traps galore. Licht agrees and asks if there were traps that have failed that they're unaware about.

Jin says Clavis has always been a pain, but according to Sariel, Clavis was more difficult to deal with back then than he his now. Because back then, he was an innocent and reckless child. That reminds him, there was a day where Clavis cried in front of Sariel for the first time.

~~

The story cuts to Clavis with Nokto. The latter's home earlier than usual. Nokto tells Clavis that he's just back for dinner; he'll be going out again later. Clavis reminds him to enjoy his nightly entertainments in moderation and Nokto counters that Clavis should take things in moderation himself. Is he talking about the confetti cannon? Clavis controlled the amount it'd fire. The negotiations went well, didn't they? Nokto agrees, they signed a contract on good terms.

Clavis: That's great. I'm glad to be of service to my younger brother.

Nokto: At the cost of increasing the wrinkles between Sariel's brows.

Nokto asks how he's on such bad terms with Sariel. Clavis says that they have different values. Clavis wants to feel joy and a sense of pleasure every day while Sariel just wants safety and peace. While Nokto agrees that joy means stimulation, he doesn't think they can continue being friends if he takes it too far. Must be hard for Sariel.

Clavis: I'm having one of those days when I'm feeling depressed because my joy was interrupted, you know?

Nokto: Not sure I can say much to someone who redecorated my room with bright colors. Surprises are supposed to make our days better, but I guess that didn't work out for you, Mr. "I used to love Sariel as a child".

Clavis: Next time I'll...

Nokto: Don't. I'm pretty sure you've cried at least once or twice when Sariel got mad at you.

Clavis: Never! On the contrary, I'm the one that made him cry.

Nokto doesn't believe it but Clavis claims that he saw it with his own golden eyes.

The story goes back to a time way before they met Emma, a time when the pleasure-loving leopard and the court devil were teacher and student.

~~

Clavis: Sariel, it's morning! It's morning already! Your apprentice is here so wake up! What are you gonna teach me today?

Sariel: Ugh...Prince Clavis, we don't call it morning when it's before 4 in the morning when the sun hasn't even risen yet. For now, please get off.

Clavis: If you wake up then I'll get off! How 'bout that?

Sariel: I'm the master here aren't I?

~~

Clavis: Sariel, wake up! This time I came when the sun rose. Aren't you proud?

~~

Clavis: Since I'm your apprentice, it's only right for me to help my master!

~~

Clavis: Listen to this, Sariel! I was able to unlock all the boxes in the treasury!

~~

Clavis: This vial may look like it contains water, but when you smash it against the ground...!

Sariel: Your invention's potency is strong, so please show it to me in the gardens.

Clavis: Right?! My inventions are amazing!

~~

Sariel!

~~

Sariel!

~~

In common room, Sariel lets out a long, long sigh. Jin's impressed by his lung capacity. Sariel suddenly flinches as he hears Clavis calling for him. Jin assures him that the prince isn't around. He's just starting to hear things. His younger brother's more attached to Sariel than he thought and he finds it cute. Only because it's not his problem, Sariel says. Regardless, he'll continue to act as Clavis' mentor since it's part of his duty to educate the princes and something Chevalier had told him to do. It's worth anyway since the prince is always eager to learn. Still, Sariel hopes that Clavis gets bored of it soon so that he can go back to his other duties. Jin's unsure about Clavis being one of those kids that frequently change interests.

One night Clavis ambushes Sariel and asks him to let him join him on a mission. Sariel regrets telling Jin that he'd be going on a mission. To Clavis, he tells the prince that he'll be in the way so he can't bring him, but Clavis insists that he won't.

Clavis: A apprentice grows by watching his master's back.

Sariel: You've seen it plently already.

Clavis: It's not enough because I'm still growing!

Sariel: What is that logic.

Clavis: You know what? I'm gonna tell everyone that you picked a lock.

Sariel: Be my guest.

Clavis: No! I'm comign with you.

Sariel: Where did the blackmail go?

Sariel tries to usher Clavis back to his room and have him wait for his return but the prince won't budge. He wants to watch Sariel and be of use to him. He promises to be good. Sariel relents; Clavis is going to follow him regardless. Fortunately the mission's just an inspection, but it's still dangerous so Clavis will need to listen to Sariel's every word.

~~

Clavis is in a wonderful mood because he's going on his first mission with his master. Sariel reminds the prince to hold on tight so that he doesn't fall of their horse.

For their mission, they'll be going in to town to visit a baron who invites orphans to his mansion to provide them with meals. He sounds like a good guy and the town has a good reputation. However, there's something suspicious going on because the baron shouldn't have the funds to actually do this so they're investigating.

Sariel can feel a stomachache coming.

Clavis points at some beautiful flowers and Sariel tells him about what kind of flowers they are. Speaking of flowers, Clavis brings up how his mom once gave him sweets and flowers as a gift for getting a perfect score on a test. He says his mom makes the best sweets; he'll give some to Sariel next time because he's his master and Clavis wants to share what his favorites. And it'd make him mom happy too. The prince just loves his mom so much.

Clavis asks Sariel about what his mom's like, but Sariel wonders about that himself. He has no memory of his family. Clavis goes quiet for a bit before imagining what Sariel's parents are like. He says that Sariel got his beautiful black hair from his dad and eyes from his mom. He could've inherited his meticulousness from either parents. Do his parents wear glasses, are they early risers like Sariel, are they strict about manners? Or are they surprisingly crude? There are so many possibilities. Clavis then asks Sariel if he's looking forward to seeing them again, but that's not something he's ever thought about. But thanks to Clavis, he's going to end up imagining what it'd be like.

~~

In town, Sariel disguises the both of them as street urchins. The baron will be providing meals today so they go to look for his mansion.

Sariel: Now then, is the baron black or white? We shall see

~~

Sariel and Clavis: ... Black

The two spy on the mansion from outside. The way the baron looks at the children is as if he's appraising them and the servants look like they're in pain, like they're being forced to do bad things. Clavis takes a step closer but Sariel stops him or else they'll get caught. Clavis says that if they don't do something, both the children and servants will continue to suffer. Sariel says there's no point in going in blind. The baron's going to keep an eye out for them and they won't be able to gather evidence. He suggests waiting until nightfall but is cut off by Clavis saying that the kids might end up being dragged into bad things so it doesn't feel right to just wait.

The prince continues toward the mansion and a servant takes notice. They ask him if he's here for a meal. Sariel starts to say they're not, but Clavis interrupts to say that they are.

Clavis: We came from the next town over because we heard that this mansion served free meals. Right, big brother?

Sariel: Huh...?

Clover End (Clavis POV)

Heart End (Sariel POV)

Epilogue

[draconicsparkle]

Y’know, I get the impression that some people want to see Nagizuru do a heckin violence. Well, I wouldn’t want to disappoint, so here we go! About to commit a heckin violence.

If you are squeamish about bodily injuries, I would highly suggest skipping this one. I don’t want to make someone super uncomfortable.

I won’t keep you waiting much longer. Please enjoy!

Today was better than others, that was for sure. Why was this? Because the staff were focused on something else and paid no attention to him.

That something else was training new members of staff. Mostly security. The higher ups realized that their numbers were getting low due to… frequent fatal accidents. So new faces were here, each one sworn into secrecy of what was contained in the building.

Hajime didn’t have many opinions on this as he collected materials from the lab to restock the fifth floor. It didn’t affect his duties if there were new people. And he was sure that he would never have to train a replacement considering how things were. So he didn’t have to impart his knowledge to anyone. A time and effort saver, for sure.

Continuing to be ignored, Hajime was able to get back to the fifth floor with no issues. And placing his collected items into their proper places was just as simple. Once everything was perfectly placed, he felt satisfied. He could bask in this immaculate organization for longer since he already had what he needed on his cart. So his job well done could last until the evening.

Speaking of his cart, it was about time he took it up. Izuru was surely hungry. He would want his lunch soon.

As usual, he tried his best to make the food flavorful. But it was so hard when little resources were provided. Medical equipment to run tests? Plenty of those. Items for nutrition and comfort? Not so much. It was aggravating.

But putting his aggravations aside, he entered the room of his charge once more. “Good afternoon, sir. I’m here again.”

“So you are,” Izuru replied, staring out the window at the birds flying in the sky. “Have you brought any news regarding the increased amount of voices down below?”

“Oh, that. They replaced the people you… uh… took care of. Lots of training is going on. Let’s hope that these guys have some common sense and rationality. Though I’m not too confident,” Hajime admitted as he began the routine tests, including the sedative syringe.

Izuru didn’t react other than turning to face him. “Yes, I share that conclusion. None will be as adapted to this place as you. You remain the only one who understands their place here.” Izuru smirked. “And that is by my side and at my command. Ready to fulfill any request I make of you.”

Heat spread across his cheeks. He was sure that if he had the thermometer in his mouth, the temperature would have increased exponentially. “I… I shall continue to do my best in that regard.”

“Please do, my dear caretaker.”

He was so very glad that he was well practiced in running the tests, as he was sure he would have made some mistakes after that if he had none. Why was it so hard to calm down after Izuru said things like this? It took until Izuru was done with his food for his heart to return to a normal beating pattern. “You all done? I’ll take your bowls and utensils. Is there anything else you require?”

The white hair shook along with its owner’s head. “None that you can provide. Very well, I shall see you again once you return.”

Hajime nodded, the chain on his neck clinking as he did so. He opened the door with his card, slipping through and beginning to pull his cart through.

But then something occurred that he had not expected.

“Hey! What are you doing here? And how did you get here?”

Unfamiliar gruff voices sounded from behind him. That shouldn’t have been possible. He was the only one who should be up here. So who was speaking? He glanced over his shoulder to get his answer. And there in the hallway, marching towards him at a fast pace, were three men dressed in the security guards outfit.

“This floor is off limits to almost all staff. You shouldn’t be here,” he tried to tell them.

But that seemed to only make the three more mad. “Who do you think you are, giving us orders? Trespassers have no right to demand.”

The faster of the three reached over and grabbed his arm, yanking him away from the cart and still open door. He was then pinned against the wall, surrounded completely.

He struggled, not only to get away but to breath, as the hold he was in restricted his air flow. “You… don’t understand! It’s… dangerous! I’m… hnng…”

His words cut off as the hold got tighter and more painful. “Quiet. Don’t try and lie. It will only land you in more trouble.”

The third laughed. “And really? You’re trying to tell us this floor is dangerous? There’s nothing here! And that experiment we were told about? Just a withered husk of a human now. What chance does that thing have against us three?”

The second cracked his knuckles. “Now, you are going to have a little forced nap. And it will only go downhill from th-”

Suddenly, there were multiple sickening cracks. Each accompanied by agonizing screams of pain by the ones who had been tormenting him. Then the men were thrown across the floor, with the exception of a single poor soul whose destroyed arm was still in the clutches of its breaker.

Hajime sank to the ground now that nothing was holding him up, back sliding against the wall. And he gazed up with a mixture of emotions at the one who intervened.

Izuru. With a smile that would make demons quake in fear.

“You dared to touch what is mine. And you have no fathomable idea of how much I want to shatter every bone in your body one by one. But since Hajime is present, I shall let you off lightly. So here is your one and only warning. Keep your filthy hands off my caretaker. If you even think of trying anything, disasters shall plague your families. So do think more about your decisions from this point forward.” He raised the wrecked arm that he was still holding, staring deep into the eyes of the terrified man. “Understand?”

Choking on sobs, the men could only nod. The sight seemed to please Izuru. “Now get out of my sight. This floor is off limits to all except Hajime. You would do well to remember this.”

He threw the one he was holding towards the elevator, watching as the three hurried as best they could while in immense pain. The elevator dinged as it arrived, the three hobbling on and disappearing behind the closed doors.

Leaving Hajime and Izuru alone once more. Though now, there was quite a bit more tension. Especially when the Ultimate Hope instantly was examining him and in his personal space to do so. “Humanity will never lose their brutish ways. How unfortunate for you. But I suspect that the rules shall be drilled into everyone’s heads now. And if they aren’t, well, I shall teach them.”

Hajime felt his heart practically beating out of his chest. But from what emotion, he wasn’t all too sure. But there was one thought that prevailed above all. “You… saved me.”

Izuru’s ruby eyes met his, smile more of a smirk than predatory now. “I will not allow for my possessions to be broken. There are dire consequences for any who try, as you have witnessed.” The pale hands caressed his cheeks, the same hands that had shattered three grown men’s arms not even five minutes ago. “It does appear that you did not sustain long lasting injuries. That is fortunate. Nothing will prevent you from attending to my needs.” Their foreheads touched, something Izuru did often when they were close like this. “So I expect you to be here on time. Not a second late. Though I know I have nothing to worry about on that. Punctual as you are.”

Redness exploded across his face at the words. Izuru… really knew exactly what to say to get intense reactions out of him. And he was sure he would never get used to it.

Izuru stood back up, pulling the caretaker up along with him. “It seems like those fools were taking a self guided tour of the lighthouse. Too confident in themselves to listen to warnings. And now they will have to be sent away, administered strong drugs to erase their memories of this place. What would it be like, I wonder, to wake up in a hospital with both arms shattered and to not know why?”

The caretaker shuddered at the thought. He knew that the facility could and would take memories away from the staff they felt were not doing their jobs correctly. He had worked hard to make himself indispensable. And he had indeed become irreplaceable. Though not for the reason he initially envisioned. “I hope it never happens to me. The memories being erased, I mean. I don’t know what I would do if I was forced to forget you.”

A thin finger placed itself on his chin, tilting his head up to meet the Ultimate Hope’s gaze. “Oh, you don’t need to fear that, my dear caretaker. After today, none but the foolish shall dare try to take you away from me.”

Hajime felt his heart get the workout of a lifetime with how hard and fast it was beating. “Th-thank you.”

Izuru gazed at him for a few moments before turning back to the still open door. “Now then, I believe it is time for me to rest. The sedatives are quite strong, as you are well aware.”

Hajime had nearly forgotten about that in the chaos. Izuru… had done all that while sedated. What on earth was he capable of off of them? He so desperately wanted to know and witness such a sight.

Hajime straightened his tie and suit, retaining his previous appearance of a professional. The conflict was done and resolved. It was time to continue the work he prided himself on.

Masterpost

[eyes-eyes-eyes-eyes-eyes-eyes]

i love my boyfriend so much i truly don't know how to deal with it... at any given moment im very likely to be writing a poem about him or painting him or looking through my photos of him and any moment where im not im ALWAYS at least thinking about him. he truly is the most beautiful inspiring soul and the fact he exists just amazes me... how is it even possible for someone so lovely to not only have been born but to continue to live every day and with each SECOND increase the amount of joy and goodness in the world exponentially HOW IS IT POSSIBLE. i tell him all the time how madly infatuated i am with him and yet im still full of more love. infinite infinite love. so much love. and so much love for life. for friends and trees and coffee and schoolwork and sunlight. dont even get me started... maybe life is a dream.