#they commit crimes and end up drenched in blood most of the time

[cosmic--static]

putting Astarion and Istyrr (my dark urge character) in situations. just happens to be a good situation this time

[chlorine-queen]

So I'm possibly about to ruin swimming for many of you. Good. Join me in pool hatred.

Cleaning pools in Texas especially during the summer is a brutal and near thankless job where if I'm not absolutely drenched in sweat by 8am, it's a rather cool day. I am in contact with some pretty serious chemicals and it's not uncommon to feel a slight burn as you sweat and the chlorine dusting your skin activates and gives you a nice chemical burn. Not to infer I don't take precautionary measures to protect myself, but with a heat index of over 110 often in the summer I'll just allow myself a little chemical burn, as a treat.

Now if you're curious why I've worked this job for over five years the answer is actually quite simple. After a decade in customer service I was offered better pay, weekends off, and an unprecedented 3 weeks paid vacation a year, including the weeks of Thanksgiving and Christmas off. Starbucks would fire you for even hinting at not showing up on Christmas, a steakhouse chain where I met my wife also had mandatory holidays. So for the first time in my adult life, I got to enjoy most of the big holidays.

In America at a job that requires no degree and only that you don't commit crimes while on a customers property with these benefits astounded me, and within two weeks I went from Steakhouse Manager Trainee to Po Service Technician. The truest benefit of my new job, the thing that has kept me glued to this company like no other is that some days I will never see a customer or even interact with them even though I'm in their backyard.

When customers did visit with me by and far the interactions were positive. I don't drink anymore, but I get offered beer all the time. I think people are nicer because I can get into their backyard easily and most of their dogs loved me. I got Bluetooth headphones and started listening to audio books of books I had read to occupy time. FUN FACT: it would take me almost two weeks to finish a Wheel of Time audiobook. I crushed all of Campaign 2 of Critical Role in an unusually wet and humid summer. I went from being at the mercy of whatever rancid human decided to take out their all consuming rage to being able to tell a customer to go fuck themselves and leaving their house. I don't care how hot or cold it was outside, the price for peace was worth it.

Unfortunately for me, dead end job. I have zero interest in running my own pool company because I would then lose the greatest benefit and even worse the customers would HAVE MY PHONE NUMBER. No thanks.

So whilst it's a goopy gross job most of the time, it's worth it to never have to make another Frappuccino or explain to an older person there is no physical way to have a steak be well done and not dry. Also it's not blood it's myoglobin.

Edit: I GOT SIDETRACKED WITH STEAK POOLS ARE GROSS BC HUMANS ARE GROSS AND EVEN IF CHLORINATED PROPERLY OIL AND SCUM AND SKIN BITS TOO SMALL TO SEE FLOAT ENDLESSY TROUGH THE SYSTEM AND WHEN YOU OPEN A FILTER TO CLEAN AND SEE ALGAE INSIDE YOU WILL NEVER FEEL CLEAN AGAIN. THE BACTERIA THAT CAUSES DIARRHEA JUST GETS WASHED INTO THE WATER FROM PEOPLES BUTTS AND EVERYONE GETS SICK THERE IS NO CLEAN IT IS ONLY AN ILLUSION

[crazypossumman]

Chapter Four

September 6 - Present 2452 Oldfall Road

Detective Drake Marshier arrived at the old building three minutes past his ten-minute deadline, still hopeful that he could prevent the loss of yet another innocent life. It all seemed too cliché: a dark, stormy night; a dark, dilapidated building; and a killer lying in wait. He hoped that this wasn’t some sort of prank call or, even worse, a trap set to kill him. Looking up at the rotting building anxiously, he thought about disobeying the killer’s orders and calling in backup, but he was too scared. There was a chance, though it was rather slim, that the killer would stay true to his word and kill anyone else who arrived there, and he wasn’t about to take that chance. He’d let enough people be killed already, and he wasn’t about to risk anyone else’s life for his mistakes. The building before him, with huge chunks of wall and roof missing and made of old, peeling wood, was to be demolished in two days, but at that moment it was the most important crime scene he would ever know. He hopped out of his small black car and yanked his gun from its holster. Then, quickly and carefully, he headed into the empty doorway of the building.

When he stepped into the ill-lit, damp room just inside the doorway, his hope faded away completely. There, directly opposite the door, was a man chained to the wall like a dog. His body was limp, broken, and lifeless. His fingers were scattered about the floor in front of him. Blood was still seeping down his face, slowly congealing, and he wore a frozen expression of agony, reflecting his last moments of horror. The air inside the building was thick with the smell of blood and rot, and the rain pattering through the roof and splashing into the blood sent a shiver running down his spine. A few feet away from the body, a tall, muscular man leaned against the wall casually. When he saw the detective’s gun pointed at him, he quickly dropped his gun and large knife to the floor at his feet. Without orders, he put his bloody hands behind his head.

“Pretty impressive, huh, Detective?” he asked.

His eyes were an angry shade of red. His shaggy hair covered his right eye, and all of it was a dirty brown color except for a few blonde ends over his eye. He wore dark pants and a red jacket, both of which were covered in blood that didn’t appear to be his. His cold voice, his predator-like posture… It made him seem more menacing and dangerous than any man Drake had ever seen before.

Drake ordered him to kick his weapons aside, so he did. When the detective ordered him to his knees, he dropped down to the ground with a menacing thud. Finding a minuscule amount of hope left in him, Drake kept his eyes fixed on the killer as he went to make sure that the other man was truly beyond help. He wanted to cry as he placed two fingers on his bloody neck to search for a pulse he knew wouldn’t be there, but he knew that it was dangerous to show any weakness around the killer.

Showing any weakness could’ve meant his death, and both he and Damien knew it. Killers like Damien reacted to fear and weakness like a predator to the smell of blood. It drove them mad; it made them crave violence and bloodshed.

Damien Furr was shocked by how upset the detective seemed. After all, he’d met the detective once before, almost four years ago. Then, even in the face of a brutal murder, Drake had been stony-faced and emotionless. He questioned Damien himself for the murder, but that was one crime that he never would’ve committed. That was a time before he had drenched his hands in blood; he had been a different person, a better person. It was evident to him now that both he and the detective had changed over the years.

Perhaps it was the death of his brother and the event of confronting the infamous killer who took his life that had shaken the detective so horribly, but he deserved it. Drake was an arrogant fool, and he’d always been too blind to see where the evil in the world really was. He could’ve saved his brother’s life—as well as all the others—if he had only opened his eyes and tried to see what was laid out before him. He should’ve been able to see that Zander deserved what he’d gotten. He should’ve known that Zander’s murder would have easily been prevented if he had only done his job.

Damien was not doing so well right about then. His blood was like fire flowing in his veins, and he wanted to kill again and again and again. He could feel the madness eating at him and could hear the voices in his head screaming and telling him that he needed it. He needed to kill, he needed to hurt, he needed to make Drake suffer for everything he’d done. He looked so much like Zander that it was sickening. He could barely face the detective with the horrid images of Zander in his head. He hadn’t been there, but he’d seen what the detective’s brother had done. He could always see. He saw what he did to her four years ago. But he was the only one who seemed to be able to tell what Zander had done. Because of this, he’d been forced to make him pay. And the cost for his sins had been his life.

He was so lost in his bloody thoughts that he hardly noticed as Drake locked handcuffs tightly around his wrists, checked him for more weapons, found and took his switchblade from his pocket, and pulled him to his feet. He led Damien out of the building, grumbling angrily and cursing at him, barely able to contain his rage himself. Damien was trying so hard not to rip the detective to shreds, knowing that it would destroy his plan, that he had not even noticed where they were heading until Drake opened the back door of his car and ordered him in.

Suddenly aware of his situation, Damien glared at the small, dark space and snapped, “I am not getting in that thing!”

“You don’t have a choice,” Drake argued, trying to keep himself calm. He tried to force Damien forward, but the larger man held his ground. “Get in the car. Now!” he said, trying to sound as forceful as he could.

Damien stared at the car’s open door and felt like he was looking at the jaws of a beast, about to swallow him whole. He was shaking so badly that the chain on his handcuffs rattled, and he was so afraid that his voice wouldn’t rise louder than a whimper.

“I won’t get in that thing,” he said with a shocking amount of fear in his voice, “I… I’m horribly claustrophobic. I can’t handle small spaces, especially dark ones. I can’t.” The killer’s eyes were wide with fear and milky white in color, which was odd considering Drake would’ve sworn that they were red earlier.

“Well, you’re going to have to deal with it!” Drake snapped.

“No!” Damien said like a stubborn child, stomping one foot as if to prove a point, “You can’t make me!” He glared at the detective, and his eyes changed to a dark black color. Drake was fearful of the killer’s suddenly angry attitude, and he had the odd feeling that if the monster wanted to hurt him, the handcuffs binding his wrists wouldn’t stop him.

What a stupid fear, Drake thought to himself, Childish, really.

“I am not childish!” Damien growled as if he had read his mind, “And I have every reason to be afraid.”

Drake sighed loudly, fed up with the killer’s nonsense, and reached to grab his phone out of his pocket. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Damien snarled at him, watching him swipe across the screen of his smartphone and type in the password with one thumb.

“I’m calling in backup,” he sighed, dialing a number into his phone, “There’s no way I can force you into this car on my own, and since you won’t cooperate, you’ve given me no other option.”

Damien laughed maniacally, startling Drake so badly that he almost fell over. “I thought I warned you not to do that,” he chuckled, smiling wickedly, “Call in backup if that’s what you want, but I did warn you not to underestimate me. I don’t mind piling up a few more bodies before I’m off to prison. This should be quite fun, actually. Well, for me. Go ahead and call for backup, Detective. You’ll only be calling those poor men and women to their deaths.”

“You’re lying,” Drake dismissed quickly, “You couldn’t kill all of them. You’d be killed long before anything like that could happen.”

“I guess we will have to see, then,” the killer snickered, “But I already told you that I don’t lie.”

He huffed, not buying a word of what Damien said. That was until something strange happened. It seemed like the timing was too perfect, but just as Damien had concluded his statement, a small bird flew through the drizzling rain and landed on the hood of Drake’s car. Damien looked at it, smiling. Drake thought he heard the madman mumble something, but his mouth hardly moved at all, so he disregarded it. At least he did until the small bird erupted into flames, giving one last terrified screech as its body was engulfed in fire and it fell from the car and onto the sidewalk, dead. The rain slowly put out the fire, and Drake stared at the bird, dumbfounded. He’d heard that spontaneous combustion was something that could happen in theory, but he couldn’t explain or comprehend what he’d just witnessed. Damien laughed softly, glaring down at the bird’s charred corpse.

“What a peculiar thing to happen,” the killer noted softly, still smiling.

The detective looked at him, confused. There was no way the killer had just caused that to happen, was there? That would’ve been impossible. Somehow, though, he was convinced that the madman had just lit that bird on fire. It was too perfect to be coincidental, and the fact that it somehow caught fire even though it was surely wet from the rain meant that something very weird was happening. He had a sickening feeling that calling in backup may have been a very bad idea at that point. If that wasn’t a coincidence and he called people to come to help him, then more innocent people would end up dying for his mistakes. He wasn’t about to let that happen. “Well, if you won’t get in the car or let me call backup,” he snarled, putting his phone back in his pocket, “how the hell do you expect me to arrest you?”

“I don’t mind walking,” Damien said blankly, “The police station is quite a distance away. Do you think you can keep up?”

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[double-hoe-seven]

Long Night

Kinktober Day 18 Kinktober Prompt: Thigh Riding/Face Riding Summary: Slade’s back home after a long mission and he knows exactly what he wants. Pairing: Slade Wilson/Deathstroke x Reader Word Count: 1,180 Warnings: fem-receiving oral, face riding, thigh riding, murder mentioned

Fandom: DCEU/Justice League (Snyder Cut) Rating: SMUT, 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

A hot shower fixed everything. Long day sitting at a desk? Hot shower. Exhausted from your workout? Hot shower. Spend a few hours doing a few side gigs and ended it covered in blood and grime? Extra hot shower. The last one was your position, though what you called a side gig was committing any number of crimes indiscriminately; you'd burned and robbed houses and offices for the insurance money and you'd committed your fair share of murders too but your forte was hacking and theft, you left the murders to your husband. By the time you pulled yourself out of your thoughts, the water had begun to run cold. You washed the remaining conditioner out of your hair and soap off your body before shutting the water off. With a nice fluffy towel around your body, you get your hair mostly dry before strolling into the bedroom.

You immediately yelped in surprise when you saw your husband laying in bed, arms folded behind his head and his eyes-well, his good eye- closed. Your hand that was reaching for the gun in the bathroom cabinet fell to your side with an exasperated sigh. "You know, most husbands greet their wives when they return after being gone for almost two months," you make sure your voice is dripping with sarcasm. "You were in the shower and I wanted to give you peace. Besides baby, I just got home anyway," he reasoned, flashing you an extra tired-looking grin. "C'mon, c'mere, I missed you," he patted his lap and looked at you with his bottom lip in a slight pout. When you started to object, he started gently pulling you towards the bed and when you were close enough, he pulled you into the bed and had you straddle his thigh.

His hands rested on your hips and he grinned as he shoved your towel off, throwing it towards the bathroom "and in case you haven't noticed I'm wearing your favorite of my tactical pants." "I might've noticed," you said, humming at the way his thigh flexed under the fabric that was pressed against your exposed core. "You wanna ride my thigh, babygirl?" He asked, his hands coming up to gently fondle your chest, flicking his thumb over your nipples.

Slowly, you began rocking your hips against his thigh, the rough texture of the fabric providing just enough stimulation to make you want more. Your hands rested on his shoulders for support as you rocked your hips faster, small quiet moans fell from your lips each time your clit came into contact with the material. "Aw, you haven't touched yourself since I left, have you, baby? Been a good girl while I was away?" He asked as his eyes wandered over your already disheveled state. You shook your head; you hadn't had time, you kept yourself busy to avoid worrying about him. "Good, good girl," he praised softly, his hand coming up to wrap around your neck as you desperately moved your hips faster for more friction.

Slowly, he tightened his fingers around your neck and he pulled you down into a bruising kiss. It was almost the embodiment of him; rough, violent, and most of all dominating. A couple of times you felt your teeth clash with his but he held you there, leaving you no choice but to take what he gave. Slade roughly bit your bottom lip and the minute your mouth opened enough, he forced his tongue in, fighting yours for dominance. "Gonna soak my pantleg, baby? You gonna cum just from the friction alone?" He taunted after looking down at the spot on his pants that was quickly becoming drenched in your arousal as you rode his thigh. He knew you were getting close when you buried your face in his chest.

"Stop," he suddenly said, grabbing your hips and stilling them. "Noo!" You objected with a frustrated sigh, you'd been so close. "Sorry, baby, that's not what I want you to be riding when you cum," Slade said, patting your thigh affectionately. "Up." Reluctantly, you moved to sit on the bed beside him while he moved to lay down more full, his head resting more evenly on the mattress. He looked at you with that damned smirk of his "c'mere, babygirl, give daddy a taste of what he's been missing." You didn't hesitate before carefully straddling his face. Your eyes instantly fluttered shut as you lowered yourself onto him, his beard already tickling and scratching your inner thighs. His tongue took long, slow swipes up your cunt before circling your clit.

He smacked your thigh lightly, telling you to move your hips and you obliged. Your hips slowly rocked back and forth, his tongue toying with your entrance every so often between desperate swipes of his tongue. His grip on your thighs tightened before he bulled you down further onto his face, moaning against your lips and send vibrations through to your very center. "Fuck..Slade..." you muttered, already out of breath. You leaned forward and tightly gripped onto the headboard with both hands for support, panting some and closing your eyes. He expertly alternated between sucking your clit harshly to invading your quivering hole with his tongue, using your thighs to hold you as close to his face as possible. You chanted the word 'fuck' like a mantra, all but grinding onto his face desperately chasing your release.

Your movements only became more desperate and your sounds louder as you felt your climax building up, the coil quickly tightening and tightening in your lower abdomen. "Slade!" You nearly yelled out when the coil finally snapped. He eagerly lapped up your juices as you came down, squeezing your thighs hard enough to leave bruises in place of his fingers. His tongue gradually slowed down as you came down from your heavenly high. On wobbly legs, you raised yourself off of his face and let yourself collapse into bed beside him. He looked over at you with a smirk, his beard drenched in you "you were so desperate I didn't even have to use my fingers to get you off." "I missed you, Slade, you know I always do," you mumbled tiredly as you tried to curl up against his side. He stopped you and laid you flat on your back again, this time he was the one straddling you, his arms caging you in beneath him "and I missed you too, babygirl."

"Think you can give me another one?" He asked as he unzipped his pants, pushing them and his boxers down enough to free his painfully erect member. You gave a nod and lazily wrapped your legs around his waist "whatever you want, Slade." He leaned down to capture your lips in a comparatively gentle kiss, making sure you got a perfectly good taste of yourself on his tongue before he buried himself in you with one swift thrust. He sighed reveled in the quiet gasp you made, followed by the whimper of being overstimulated. You'd be in for a long night, you always were when he came back home.

Tag Team: @bdffkierenwalker​

[liitlesunshiine]

Villainous Taste

(Detective reader x Villain Bakugo)

Warnings: NSFW, smut, mentions of death, degradation, manipulation, very bad bad stuff, dubcon, noncon, assault, sub/dom themes, don’t read if sensitive to violent themes

_________________

You sighed in frustration at your desk that was fully covered with a mountain of papers. It’s been over year now since you’ve been assigned to the notorious Bakugo, Katsuki case; and you’ve made little to no progress on catching the pesky fucking villain. You were losing your patience by the day. Especially since it felt like a personal attack on your ego that you still haven’t managed to pin this guy down. The great detective Y/N, Y/LN getting played and taken a fool by the villain himself. It’s not like you’ve made no progress though. There were times, many instances in fact, when you managed to pin the villain down. The constant face to face encounters only ending with the villain toying with you and taunting you. It’s honesty a surprise that you’re still alive considering all the chances he has had to kill you. Condescending dick, you were sure he was getting off by the chase. This all seemed to be a game to him and it infuriated you even more since you were practically entertaining it. He was thriving off the little interactions with the quirkless detective.

The way he would cockily stride his way to you with that big smirk smeared across his face. Eyes devouring your body that left an unsteady chill run down your spine. His presence held such power and intimidation that you couldn’t help but take steps back with every step he took forward. You always felt like a deer in headlights whenever he swaggered towards you. No amount of experience or expertise will ever get you accustomed to his predatory gaze.

“Go figure they’d send a quirkless bitch my way. They must really hate’ya.” He said with a rather amusing look, never breaking his eye contact with you. He grabbed a piece of your hair twisting it softly between his fingers, as if he were inspecting it. You could’ve sworn he was sniffing it too.

Yea, you were quirkless but you managed to hold your own ground. Having to work ten times as hard, having to prove yourself among your peers and having to earn the respect and position you have worked so tirelessly for years. While being quirkless was a hinderance or handicap as some would say, it was a mountain that you decided needed to be climbed. You reached its peak and planted your flag years ago. This title wasn’t given to you mindlessly. You dedicated tears, sweat, and blood to get to where you are now. Gained recognition from higher up heroes themselves and even managed to get assigned to Bakugo’s case; the most wanted and powerful villain in Japan. Now, you weren’t in denial either, you were well aware you stood no chance against the hero toe to toe. Hell, even the top tier heroes themselves barely made it out alive. You were simply here to pinpoint his locations and set up an area for his arrest. What seemed to be a simple task ended up as a wide scale massacre with Bakugo skimping through all the heroes nonchalantly. It was a complete blood bath. All the pro heroes who were posted for defense that day were to be blown up to pieces; the graphic scene till this day haunts you in your sleep. Sleepless nights and paranoia became a norm, with the image of him dripping with blood casually stalking towards you was something that you have not been able to shake out of your head for months now.

He had forced you into an alley that day. You were trying your best to steady your breathing and figure out an attempt to get the fuck out of this predicament. Your eyes skimmed for any opening, avoiding his intense gaze, looking anywhere but his blooded face.

You felt your back hit against the wall. He was now sickly close to you, you placed your head down in shame looking at his shoes rather than his face. Knowing damn well there was no way out of this situation. Beads of sweat ran down your back and colored your forehead. He slammed both his hands against the wall, causing you to jump, your head now trapped in between his forearms. His body hovered over, the smell of blood forcing its way into your nose. The intense body heat radiating off of him, had your head spinning. You felt frozen in place, every worst case scenario rushing through your mind, trying to stay steady while silently sobbing to yourself.

“My eyes are up here slut.” He gripped your chin roughly forcing your eyes to meet his. You took in the rough image of the villain in front of you. You saw the spiky unruly hair sticking out in every direction, some parts drenched in the blood of his victims. His sharp facial features looked even more intimidating under this light, little scars freckled his skin here and there scattered throughout; and his 5 o'clock shadow appearing in patches. It was his eyes that took you by surprise most. None of the pictures posted online, none of the documents you saw ever matched what appeared in front of you. The dark ruby colored eyes stared curiously back at you, analyzing your every move. The stare felt strangely intimate, and it probably would’ve been considering the circumstance. Y/N wasn’t sure if she was really fully conscious of what was happening, but having him so close was making her feel unnerved. Hell, even as a villain there are many people who admire and drool over the criminal. But seeing him this up close drenched in the blood of your peers was when the fear and guilt washed over you and you quickly snapped out of his trance. You were brought back to your senses and reminded of your current predicament. The images of the heroes fighting and dying at the hands of this animal quickly flooded in. Anger now overwhelming your sense. You reminded yourself that you were quirkless, not helpless. And with that thought, you broke your intense gaze away from him, slapping his hand off your chin and quickly spitting in his face. The action caught him rather off guard and you took this delayed response to knee him in the balls and bolt for it “FUCKING BITCH!” He roared.

~

Ever since then your encounters with Bakugo have been rather odd to say the least. You didn’t really know how else to describe it. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking. There were instances where he would get rather “touchy” and others where he would straight up just physically hurt you. It was a wind whirl of emotions and odd behavior whenever you encountered him. You didn’t know what to make of it either. He could’ve killed you months ago and the fact that he hasn’t, has left you feeling uncomfortable and confused. You felt yourself wanting to avoid him now, you haven’t been prioritizing his case anymore and you’ve lost all the spunk and passion you had in the beginning. Continuously failing to catch him and having countless of pro heroes dying at the hands of his explosions was something you no longer had the heart to bare.

Especially now that whenever you found him he’d just toy with you. It was beginning to seem as if he's looking forward to these little encounters, like he’s waiting for you. You began to notice the issue when he was becoming purposefully sloppy in hiding his tracks, it was if he was screaming to be caught. And after working his case for over a year Y/N knew his actions, how careful and precise he could be when he wanted to. A perfectionist in his own right but now, now he was practically waving a flag yelling at you where he is and to come and get him. This was a total 180 from his usual behavior and tactic and with each encounter becoming more unseemly; Y/N thought it was best to take a break from the scandalous villain. You decided on no longer participating on the missions. You couldn’t shake off the eerie feeling of this situation and where you were once so headstrong stepping into the battlefield, your courage and pride was stripped from you. Now the only thing you prioritize was staying the hell away from him. So with whatever information you did find on the villain was quickly handed over to the hero agency without any hesitation.

~

After a few months of you steering clear from the villain, his crime scenes were becoming more brutal and graphic by the week. His killing sprees drastically increasing and the victims were piling up. Y/N couldn’t help but to let guilt consume her. Thoughts of Bakugo infiltrated Y/N’s mind. From the moment she woke up, to while she’d desperately attempt to sleep. You felt yourself slowly going insane. As if your movements were being watched at all times. Your mental state began taking a toll on you and was affecting your work. You could no longer focus on anything for a span of time without the mere image of a bloodied Bakugo appearing in your head.

His case was one you guiltily found compassion in. One of the top students in UA Academy showing nothing but absolute potential to become a top ranking hero crumbled and fell to villainy after his long time friend Izuku Midoriya, was killed trying to save him. It appeared the guilt ate him up inside and as a result, Bakugo quickly blamed the heroes for being weak and unable and decided on taking matters to his own hands by killing everyone involved that day in Midoriya’s death. This paired on with him living in an abusive household led to what he is now, at least that’s what Y/N assumed. Y/N’s heart felt torn in two feeling somewhat sympathetic towards him due to his rough upbringing and traumatic past but either way it did not excuse the atrocities he was committing now. You felt yourself falling deeper into the rabbit hole because of this man. You finally decided this couldn’t continue on any longer. You requested a transfer, figure you cut your losses with Bakugo’s case and move on with your life.

~

It had been two weeks since you’ve transferred departments and moved into the inner city of Tokyo. It was new, it was adventurous, and it was a step forward. A perfect way to start fresh and move on. You felt the withdrawals from Bakugo’s case every now and then, mainly the guilt consuming you at night or whenever you saw the news appear on TV with a new crime he had committed. You did your best to avoid those emotions though. He was no longer your problem and you did everything you could anyways. Regardless, your attempts at catching him always resulted with blood on your hands.

It was a particular long day at work. You decided on staying later than usual setting up the finishing touches in your new office. You figured you’d also catch up on some cases to avoid getting swamped on Monday. By the end of it you came to realize it was a quarter past midnight. “Oh shit, I gotta get the hell outta here,’ you mumbled to yourself while you quickly got your personal things and organized the remaining loose ends in the office. You locked up everything and exited out the building, deciding on taking the metro home since you felt exhausted and couldn’t commit to the 2 mile walk.

You weren’t used to the metro being so empty and silent, but it was rather peaceful you thought. While the doors open you took no notice in the looming figure behind you. Exhausted and empty minded you walked in, to the doors behind you closing. You were instantly snapped out of your daze when you got shoved against the pole and a hand quickly covering your mouth to silence your scream.

“I’m real upset quirkless.” You immediately recognized the voice and a chill ran down your spine. You looked up to see the reflection of Bakugo off the window, he was staring at you dead in the eye. His signature scowl heavily evident on his face.

“Are you trying to hide from me? Made me follow your ass all the way to Tokyo now? Come on quirkless, you know I hate being teased.” He positioned himself to have his crotch lined up with your ass. You felt the pressure only getting bigger with each word he spoke. Your heart was racing by this point, you tried to wiggle your way out of his grasp but he only gripped you harder as a result. He pulled your hair forcing you to look at him once again through the reflection.

“What happened slut, got bored of me? Am I not important enough anymore to catch? I’ve killed hundreds of people ya know, why did you stop trying to arrest me? Don’t tell me another villain got your attention. I don’t mind killing off the competition babe.” He gripped your hair even harder to the point where your skull was becoming numb, your cheeks already salted with tears.

“Fucking slut, I should seriously punish you. You’ve been making me work overtime.”

The train did a gradual stop and the doors open once again with two individuals walking in. Y/N felt a bit of hope wash over her until Bakugo moved to sit down on the opposite direction, forcing you on top and both your backs facing the two people who just walked in. Since he was wearing a hoodie no one would be able to recognize him from this angle. Right now the situation looked like two people who are just foundling on the train. You now sat directly on top of the villain’s lap. His hand still covering your mouth harshly. When you felt the bulge in his pants fully erect is when you began to whimper.

“Awe, did my slut miss me? Don’t worry detective, I’ll give you some nice warranted attention.” His free hand began to stroke your exposed thigh. The action immediately had you squish your thighs together and attempt to get away. But he simply responded with gripping you tighter.

“Try anything and I’ll fucking take you right here, right now. I’ll blow up everyone in this fucking train. Try me bitch.”

He placed a testing hand on your thigh and tapped it softly as if waiting for your reaction. You stayed still not daring to move. “Come on baby, open up for your favorite villain.”

You silently nodded your head no, more tears springing out. He gripped your thigh roughly.

“Y/N, I won’t ask again. Fucking open.” The authority and venom that came from that demand left you having goosebumps. The fear reached you and before you knew it, you had your legs opened and spread for him.

"Atta girl.” He hummed satisfied and began stroking your inner thigh. Absolute shame and guilt overtaking your senses, you felt completely out of control and held prisoner. Your mind trying to disassociate itself with the current reality you’re in right now. But only to being brought back with his rough hands violating you and his threatening tone looming over you. “Now, I’m gonna release my hand from your mouth. If you make any fucking noise, I’ll kill everyone in this metro and make you watch while they beg for their lives, m’kay.” You nodded rather quickly, you wouldn’t be dumb enough to even dare to do such a thing. Too many people have already fallen victim to this animal, you refuse to take part in anymore blame for it. You’d figure you just let him use you and quickly get over the situation and forget it ever happen. Maybe you’ll set up an attempt to try and kill him yourself. Either way, the sooner this is over the sooner you get to go home and ball your eyes out and come up with a plan. He hummed again with your response.

“Good girl.” His hand slowly and hesitantly left your mouth and snaked its way to your thighs. He gripped both of them and forced your legs to open wider.

"Really liking the skirt baby. Makes accessing you so much easier.” He chuckled in your ear, mocking you. Ironic considering this is the first time you’ve worn a skirt in over a year. Your fucking luck. This whole thing was just entertainment for him, bastard.

His hands slowly made themselves lower reaching the inner most part of your thighs. He pulled the skirt up, completely showcasing your thong and pantyhose. You practically heard him salivating behind you. You tried to close your legs feeling painfully embarrassed.

“Tsk. What did I say Y/N” he forced your legs apart once again but with more aggression and speed, that lead you to buckle your hips onto him. You instantly became flushed, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks at the realization of what you just did. You heard him groan.

“Such a fucking tease.” He ripped your pantyhose apart, giving him full entrance to your underwear. The cold air had a cooling sensation on your inner thighs and you felt yourself softy throb. You let out a silent whine and he quickly shoved two of his fingers in your mouth while the other started doing soft circles on your clit.

“Fuck quirkless. You’re so wet, always knew you were a fucking whore for me.”

Even to your surprise you didn’t expect yourself to be this hot and ready for him. You felt completely betrayed by your body but you couldn’t help in relishing in the sensation. It felt so good to finally be touched by someone even if it was someone as vile as him. Is this what it feels like to have the most dangerous man about finger fuck you on the metro train? Maybe you can just pretend you’re getting touched by Jim- the cute and quirky coworker of yours, but with every flick even that was seeming to be difficult already. You were sucking and licking his fingers shamelessly and subconsciously grinding down on his erection. You were definitely disgusted from yourself. But you’d be lying if the thought of fucking this villain hasn’t crossed your mind. Especially with the constant harassment you faced whenever you crossed paths, how he’d violate you but never to this extent. Always leaving you in an array of emotions. Even now you’re having a hard time understanding what exactly is happening.

Your eyes snapped right open when the fingers in your mouth left to slap your pussy. You glared at him with a concerning look. He only smiled in response, the sadistic kind.

“You seemed distracted baby. Got me doing all this work and you’re not even paying attention.”

His wet fingers hooked your underwear and causally pulled them off. You were now completely exposed and the reality of the situation was settling on you. “Bakugo please don’t.”

“After you were sucking and grinding on me? Don’t act so innocent now bitch, you’re fucking soaked. Pussy is practically begging for my cock.”

He slipped one finger inside slowly, as if he was exploring the inside of your pussy. His fingers were thick and scarred due to years of using his quirk. The sensation alone was enough for you to throw your head back on his shoulder, opening your legs wider for him. You couldn’t grasp the reason for your actions. Here you were shamelessly opening yourself up and enjoying the fingers of a villain who has caused so much destruction and brought about so much pain in your life. How is it that you’re enjoying this? You really are a terrible person.

“Fuck baby, this is quite the sight.”

Any attempt in trying to hide what you and Bakugo were doing was completely thrown out the window by the sloppy and lewd noises from the villain fingering you. You began to bite your bottom lip in attempt to hold back the moans trying to escape you when he added a second finger.

“Don’t hold them noises back, let these people know how good you feel from just by my fingers slut.” By this point you couldn’t control the soft noises coming out of you even though you were trying. He was fingering you with such expertise, you were feeling yourself beginning to melt under him. When was the last time someone had touched you liked this? Are you so touch starved that you’re about to cum from out of all people- Bakugou Katisuki? Your mind was spinning.

The train reached its second stop. You tried to close your legs and compose yourself before the doors had open but Bakugo didn’t stop his assault. “Bakug-“

“Keep them open baby. We’ll put on a show for whoever sees. I don’t give a fuck.”

The only two passengers who were on the train walked out rather quickly and with no one else entering, it was just you and this villain inside. You couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or bad but at least the risk of him hurting someone else isn’t looming over your head. Instead of taking this moment to escape you threw your arms up gripping Bakugo by the neck. Might as well and try to get this over with. Sooner this ends, the sooner you get go home and bleach your skin clean and pray for forgiveness to whichever god decides to listen. This action did indeed catch him slightly by surprise but he stopped fingering you momentarily and ripped your shirt off revealing your bra to him. He quickly gripped both of your breasts massaging them in his hand.

“Turn around.” He huskily said into your ear. Already lost in the sensation of how good he was making you feel, you quickly got off him to then get back on straggling him. You were now back on him facing him with your cunt completely exposed, skirt crumbled up to your waist, and your breasts directly in his face. He was smirking down on you. He gripped the center of your bra and activated his quirk leaving the bra in shreds.

“Any idea how long I’ve been wanting to fuck this pretty little body of yours?” He gripped your neck, choking you slightly while his mouth made his way to your nipple. “Way too fucking long. Gonna devour your little cunt. Gonna make you pay for all the trouble you’ve been causing me.” His hand left your throat and began squeezing and pinching your nipple. The action causing a moan to rip out of you. “Fucking bitch, you’ve been such a distraction.” You were gripping and pulling his hair now while grinding furiously against his crouch in a desperate attempt to feel some type of friction. “Bakugo-“

“Katsuki,” he corrected, “we’ve been past the formalities for a while now”

You blushed, you rarely call anyone by their first name but Bakugo could be the exception. Besides it’s not like he wasn’t fingering your pussy like a jackhammer on a public train 5 minutes ago, not like you were grinding on him like a desperate dog in heat right now...

“Suki,” you said hoping the cute pet name would be enough to grab his attention, you attempted to sound as desperate and needy as possible, “please make me cum already.” You pleaded while placing your hands on his shoulders. Makeup smudged from the tears and sweat, lipstick smeared on your chin from him covering it, clothes all ruined and your hair a mess, you already looked so fucked out, Bakugo just ate the sight up. He had his hands gripping the side of your hips caressing them. You leaned in wanting a kiss until he quickly gripped your face squeezing your cheeks together preventing it so. “On your knees baby.”

While still squeezing your face you slowly get off his lap on your knees in between his legs.

“Open your mouth and show me your tongue.” He released his tight grip but kept his hand in place, you opened your mouth and slowly stuck out your tongue. He gave a devious smirk, in which you saw something enlighten in his eyes. The bright red color seeming more mahogany now. He leans in lining his mouth above yours and spits on your tongue. He nods his head allowing you to swallow, which you complied easily to. You now waited patiently for his next orders, your full submissive side completely taking over, not like you have much of a choice anyways. Regardless, the desire to please him and the desperation from under is consuming your every thought and sensation.

“Go on slut, suck daddy’s cock.” He leans into the seat with his legs fully spread to you. You slowly unzip his pants with shaking hands allowing his dick to spring free. You nearly drooled at the sight wanting to taste him badly. He was completely erect, a huge vain running down the base of his cock, the tip already covered in precum looking swollen and red. You lean in his dick using your hands to pump him, you slowly bought the tip towards your mouth giving it small kitten like licks. As you began sucking the villain in front of you, he lets out small grunts and groans throughout. He eventually pulls your hair and shoves his dick entirely in your mouth forcing itself to hit the back of your throat. 10 seconds pass by and he hasn’t removed his hand, 11, 12… your eyes begin watering and you’re desperately attempting to get fresh air. You begin pulling away only for Katsuki to laugh and hold you down tighter. “Aha’ha choking on my dick detective? Such a cock hungry whore… this outa teach you a lesson, maybe I’ll get some hand cuffs late-later on and treat you like you really deserve, yea-yeah. That sounds soo good.”

While Bakugo goes back and forth with himself, you begin getting red faced and losing consciousness he pulls your hair up forcing you off and you while you take this opportunity to weed in gaps of air desperately and choking, he quickly shoves himself back inside your mouth. This time he moved your head in up/down motions, you attempted your best to slurp and suck with minimal oxygen entering your system, but it was proven to be very difficult, luckily enough you notice the villain becoming slower and sloppier with his movements. You brought yourself to deep throat his cock once more until the warm liquid has finally entered your mouth. The taste sour and sticky inside, this is what sin must taste like you thought.

As on cue, the metro did a halt and you instantly recognized the location. You gave a side eye to the villain next to you who also knew this was the stop to your neighborhood. He self confidently got up and immediately zipped his pants. He took off the hoodie he wore only leaving the black tank top underneath and shoved it over your head. The hoodie was long enough to cover your whole body and you were thankful since your current garments were in shreds across the floor. It also smelled strangely sweet, odd, like burnt caramel? Maybe the lack of oxygen is making you slightly delusional? You assumed, well hoped- this is where you would go separate ways with the villain. Have this memory go to the grave with you and forget it ever happened. But to your lovely surprise he picks you up bridal style and carries you out the metro. You looked at him questioningly, the feeling of dread looming over and suddenly becoming overwhelming just waiting for his response. He simply smirked.

“You’re clocking in overtime tonight detective.”

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are Weird: D&D Part 3

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps) Human Barbarian: I roll to decapitate the shop keeper. Alien DM: Is there a reason you keep on decapitating LITERALLY everyone you meet? Barbarian: My character can’t die unless he falls in battle. Alien DM: But they aren’t battles if you kill them in one blow. Barbarian: True, but my guy has been around for hundreds of years and now just kills people for fun. Alien DM: *Looks at other party members* Is this normal? Wizard: Honestly it’s pretty tame for a barbarian. Rogue: At least he’s not the bard that became a necromancer. Alien: What happened with them? Wizard: They became a necromancer just so they could woo the woman that killed herself after talking to him. Alien: *Looks at Necromancer* Really? Necromancer: I was very proud of my seduction streak and I wasn’t about to let death break it. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alien: Why do you always pick humanoid characters? Alien: Why not team up with something that is as large as a bear? Thief: We used to have a Loxodon fighter in the party, didn’t end well. Alien: What happened? Monk: We got trapped in a room flooding with water and only one way out. Warlock: The Loxodon insisted on going first through the doorway because they were afraid of water, but then became wedged in the tiny frame and couldn’t get free. Alien: How did you escape? Monk: We didn’t; we all drowned to death. Alien: If you all died then how are you here talking with me? Thief: Let’s just say we owe a man of questionable magic practices a lot of money. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Warrior: Wizard, cast fireball on my sword! Alien Wizard: Why? Warrior: So it will catch on fire and do fire damage as well! DM: I’ll allow it. Alien Wizard: Okay. *rolls a nat 20* DM: Your fireball impacts the sword dead on and melts it instantly. Warrior: What? DM: What do you think happens to cheap metal after it’s been super-heated? ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

DM: As you sift through the remains of the now fallen lich lord you come across his most powerful weapon. Alien players: *getting excited* DM: A cursed blade slaked in the blood of a thousand thousand victims, each one adding their strength to whomever wields this mighty blade; the most powerful weapon you have ever come across. Alien players: *Really excited now* Alien warrior: Does it have a name? DM: *Nods* It is called……the Bunny Fluffer. Alien warrior: What? You can’t be serious. DM: I did say it was a curse blade. Alien: How can a blade called the “Bunny Fluffer” be cursed?!? DM: Every time you use it in battle you must loudly announce that you are attacking with the bunny fluffer. Alien warrior: You monster! That’s so evi- Alien warrior: *Now realizing why it is cursed* ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Human: If I feed a Locathah sushi, am I committing a hate crime or unknowingly making them a cannibal? Alien DM: WTF man?!?!? ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Human DM: You find yourself in a very suspicious village. Alien: You can’t just label an entire town as suspicious. Human: Roll a perception check then. Alien: *Rolls 20* Human DM: You see the town square barren save for a giant stone slab at the very center, the surface of it covered in strange red glyphs that seem to bleed the longer you stare at it. Human DM: The towns people all full length cloaks that hide their appearance with hoods so deep you cannot make out a single detail of their faces. They speak no words nor make a sound as they shift and to and fro between the buildings. Human DM: You stare up at the sky and see it thick with grey clouds that appear to bulge and retract randomly as if they are holding something within. Alien: Alright, alright, we get it. Alien: No need to be so on the nose about it. Human: You walked passed a mass murder drenched in blood because one of you saw the bar tenders dog run outside and wanted to go pet it. Human DM: I take no chances now. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alien DM: You find yourself locked in the mansion, the body of the host laying across the ballroom floor as all the guests and staff look on. Alien DM: Any one of them could be the killer. Human Warlock: I say we lock all the doors and burn the house down. Human Paladin: What? Human Rogue: That’s a bit extreme. Warlock: Listen, I’ll cast a spell that will make anyone with a guilt free conscious fire resistant. Warlock: That way when the house is on fire only the killer will catch fire and everyone else would be safe. Rogue: I guess that might work…. Paladin: Still… Warlock: Look, I’ll even stay inside to prove how trust worthy it is while you all wait outside and bar the doors. Paladin: Very well. *some time later after the mansion burned down* *Party sees only the warlock remaining among the ashes* Paladin: Impossible! Paladin: They couldn’t all have been the killer! Warlock: True, but their minds were not guilt free so I’m afraid they caught fire. Rogue: So you knowingly just had us kill an entire mansion’s worth of people. Paladin: How are you still alive?! Warlock: Simple; I did not feel the slightest bit guilty about it. Warlock: *Proceeds to remove an artifact that collects the souls of the recently deceased* ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alien DM: Pick your characters. Human: I am a Halfling necromancer. Human 2: I am an elf necromancer. Human 3: I am a human necromancer. Alien: Seriously?! Alien: Does no one want to be something else? Human 4: I am an orc shaman. Alien: Well thank y- Human 4: That dabbles in necromancy. Alien: Gods damnit! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Human DM: And with that you have finally slain the great dragon Human DM: The town of Scabersburgs will forever be in your debt. Alien Wizard: That was a stupid encounter, let’s end it here. *Human DM makes note as the group leaves for the night* *Next week’s encounter* Human DM: You return to find the town of Scaversburg in the grips of a deadly plague. Human DM: The town’s folk are being driven mad as over the last few days many of them have begun growing scales across their body, talons where their fingers once were, and some have even begun sprouting lizard like wings and tails. Human DM: As they see you all return to the village their collective shouts of anger roar across the town as the entire city springs forth to hunt you down. Alien Wizard: Wait what!? Alien Wizard: I call bullshit; how could this suddenly happen?! Human DM: Well, if you had waited long enough to hear the dragons dying words he placed a powerful curse on his blood that any who should drink of it shall become as he once was. Alien Wizard: That’s still bullshit! Alien Wizard: No way the villagers would just walk up to a dead dragon and drink its blood. Human DM: Unless because you failed to dispose of the body the blood seeped into the ground and mixed with the towns water supply, thus contaminating everyone. *Group angrily looks at Wizard that encouraged them to leave early* Human DM: Roll for initiative. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alien DM: As you make camp deep within the frost mountains of Galgieth you find that your provisions bag has torn open and you have no food to eat. Alien DM: Unless you act quickly you will starve to death. Wizard: I got this. Wizard: *Turns to barbarian* Wizard: Cut off my left arm. Barbarian: Done! *rolls a nat 20* Alien DM: *Confused* You chop off the left arm of your wizard, the limb falling lifelessly to the ground as spouts of blood pour out. Wizard: I cast regeneration to regrow my severed limb. *Rolls a nat 20* Alien DM: *Still confused* Your left arm grows back as if it was never gone. Wizard: I put my severed limb over the open fire to cook. Alien DM: You want to turn your party into cannibals? Rogue: Wouldn’t be the first time.

[mudwingpropaganda]

Thoughts on the IceWings?

(I promise, I’m seeing your asks!!! No need to apologize, I’m doing my best to get on top of my drafts! Thank you for your continued interest in my ideas!)

IceWings are tough for me! But I’m interested in trying to dump my thoughts because I do find them as a possibly interesting and compelling tribe.

IceWings are a tribe with values of total perfection and unattainable standards. And with the blessing of magic running through their veins, they obviously must be one of the most gifted tribes and must maintain this flawless, perfect image. The IceWings are one of the oldest tribes, one of the firsts to unite after the Scorching. They found refuge in the arctic where few scavengers could traverse safely without alerting the IceWings of their presence. They were regarded highly for their authority and might and their capabilities to survive in the dreaded north where other tribes could not follow, even before the Ice Wall was put up.

And the blessing of magic only further encouraged their thoughts of superiority and entitlement. IceWings, from early on, were given ideas of dominancy. That they need no assistance from other tribes and that by mingling with these other tribes is disgraceful when everything they will ever need and ever be obligated to maintain is their perfect queendom.  Any stories of revolution and uprising were briskly snuffed out. As royalty with magic wrote the history of revolution as selfish. As the injustices that the royal family committed grew and grew.

Animus magic is heavily ingrained to the IceWing’s way of life, so much so that they’re amazed at the appalling normalness of the rest of Pyrrhia. How do they get any work done at night without the Moonglobe’s faint glow? How do you know who to respect without a massive list of names of who you should and shouldn’t associate with? (I also headcanon their necklaces indicating which circle they’re in is another animus gift that every egg gets once it hatches.) Some IceWings find relief in the “lack of structure” by comparison. Others find themselves lost and confused without the guidance. 

The IceWings live under heavy martial law. Everything is controlled directly by the queen or her closest associates, under the muscle of the guards sprinkled everywhere in the IceWing Queendom. That which isn’t ruled over by the watchful eye of the Queen is often designated into territories owned by the rich. There is no place in particular that is necessarily free from the gaze of the Circles, another way of the throne’s never ending judgement on its citizens. In the IceWing Queendom, the rich are the powerful and the powerful reign supreme. Of course, low ranking IceWings certainly have the ability to work for a higher status. But when considering a dragon’s ranking, their bloodline is considered, their background, and their forefather’s crimes before them. It’s not easy to find a sense of stability in this queendom, unless you appeal directly to a permanent high-ranking dragon - a land owner, a noble, or, better yet, a royal. 

To back up for a moment, I’ll consider IceWing designs. IceWing designs are something I still struggle with designing. BUT a few things I always come back to are furred dragons with manes, beaks, feathered wings, and large bulky paw-talons. Their horns are also similar to that of icicles, and will blossom like antlers of moose if grown long enough. Manes belonging to women are always bigger and fuller, and manes belonging to royalty are frequently the biggest. IceWings often have black skin on their paws, under their eyes, or on miscellaneous places on their bodies, such as Lynx. In recorded history, it is always and expectation for royal IceWings to be a pristine white, untouched by impurities and as excellent as freshly fallen snow. But, in my headcanonverse, under Queen Snowfall’s rule, and her marriage with Queen Lynx, this expectation has been alleviated. 

Though the standard for IceWings is pale whites and glimmering pale blues, IceWings can be a variety of colors. Aside from white and blue, greens, browns, purples, and even shades of orange have been found in scales, with a variety of patterns as well. IceWings are feathered, with a hooked claw on their wing thumbs for latching onto glaciers. Their tails also have a flare of feathers to assist in steering and warmth. While they have what can be compared as beaks, this is quite flexible and they are prone to having snouts similar to polar bears, or - in rare cases - rounded like narwhals, belugas, or orcas. 

IceWing society is very desensitized to death. It’s not uncommon for those deemed traitorous to be publicly executed, snow drenched with blue. IceWings are raised in family units, but are enrolled in education systems as soon as they can verbalize. IceWing parents raise their children early on not to fear death, but rather see it as an enemy to overcome. They teach them not to be intimidated by the cold Ice Dragon brighter than the sun on the ice, but to resist its lure and prove you’re stronger than it. IceWings are given a very skewed image of morality that was deeply shaken up with the plague that was cursed upon their land by Darkstalker. Previously, they viewed those who succumbed to disease as weak, simply not strong enough to be among their ranks - even if they mourned outwardly. With the death of Queen Glacier, one of the most surprisingly gentle but just as powerful and ruthless Queens that the IceWings ever had, they reassessed how they looked at death. The war had hit them hard as the only ally of Blaze.

This is why things like the Diamond Trial is so wildly accepted. Sending your children to their supposed deaths is okay. If they’re strong enough to fight their way out then they deserved to live and be among your Wings in the first place. And if it was the animus’s magic, then of course it was for the betterment of the tribe. Why would the Queens of the past hurt the tribe?

NightWings and IceWings are very similar, with the only difference between them being that one actually has the military power to back up their bark. The other is just now regaining that which they were proud of in the first place. 

IceWings struggle terribly with separating their idolization with the throne, purity, and blood, with what is actually good for them, their people, and their tribe. They so desperately want to be admired by the rest of Pyrrhia that they don’t realize that they’re killing themselves in the process, whether that be physically, mentally, or emotionally. Their pride, while somewhat earned, is toxic and hurts them more than helps them, and the tribe has been bracing to break for a long time now. Hopefully, with Queen Snowfall’s rule, they’ll be able to rebuild as a more stable, thoughtful, and secure tribe.

[shadow-scenarios]

Omggg how you wrote out my request certainly surprised me but I totally enjoyed what you did with it!! And you said that you'd love to write a second part? Well, may I perhaps request that? 👀👀 (P.S.: I'm really relieved that you liked the idea haha, I've been sitting on it for awhile)

Hey again, simulationone!! I’m happy you like the direction I look it in. I was going to have the Reader become Akechi’s Navigator but I think that was a better direction to take it. Also, I tried a different style with this one, so I hope you like it!!

I loved the idea, it was so unique! If you have anything else that you want to request, you’re more than welcome to. By the way, this is suuuper angsty. If you don’t like that kind of thing, skip this post!!

Link to Part 1 here!!

- Nexus.

Trigger Warning: Major Character Death ;; Blood ;; Violence ;; Injuries ;; Swearing

Dance With Justice [2] | Goro Akechi

Perhaps there was a reality where she never had to hurt anyone. A world in which the Phantom Thieves never existed & justice was never an issue. Everyone could simply be happy without any concerns. However, thus was not her current fate.

This was never supposed to happen. She was going to die here, stuck in Mementos until she bled out.

{ Sat, 23 / 10 / 20XX }

Akechi had laid the plan out to her on this day: He had been given an opportunity to meet with the Phantom Thieves at the Shujin Academy. In particular, there was a panel in which a Q&A style show was being held. All they had to do was attend & imply they knew the identities of the Phantom Thieves before he ‘ inconveniently received a phone call ’. Afterwards, the group would be forcibly assembled in the Faculty Room & there they would unfurl the evidence. The photos the both of them had gathered & the video of them disappearing into the Metaverse.

As a result, they would be forced to stop committing their crimes after they took down the Palace of one individual in particular: Sae Niijima. He did admit that he was afraid for the life of his colleague because she was investigating the Phantom Thieves. If they were the perpetrators behind the metal shutdowns, she might be targeted next because she was seen as a threat.

However, there was one thing they were not to be informed about. The additional plan to arrest their leader as a warning of sorts. Additional police forces were to be sent out into the Metaverse & they would corner him when he was alone. It was quite simple but effective. All they had to do was cooperate with them.

This was all communicated to her over lunch in the school rooftop & she nodded, steeling her resolve.

{ Wed, 26 / 10 / 20XX }

Alas, the school festival came too quickly. The first day was ‘ unimportant ’, according to Akechi { although he did look rather embarrassed when she asked what happened with the Phantom Thieves... }.

It was about 20 minutes before the panel was due to start & she had already taken a seat somewhere near the centre. People were already gathered at this point because the Famous Ace Detective: Goro Akechi was going to be answering questions. Frankly, she found it quite creepy the levels most fans went to in order to see him.

Eventually the debate began. Makoto Niijima, student Council President, was hosting & essentially demanded answers related to his detective work reguarding the Phantom Theives. It was immensely impressive how he managed to dance around the answers, giving something vague yet satisfying. Was this is the life of a celebrity?

The question about the identity of the mysterious group soon came up. As her cue came, she texted him & there was the sound of Akechi’s ringtone going off. Silence spread through the auditorium in a strange mix of disappointment & comedic timing. After making a remark along the lines of not wanting to be trolled online, he quickly requested that a break be tacked on.

Quietly, she moved her way across the row & slipped out before the crowd could congest any corridors. The PE Faculty Office was easy enough to find, with many students easily offering directions. Slipping in before anyone else, there he stood.

“ Akechi. Are you ready for this? There’s no going back after we present the evidence. ”

“ Of course. The Phantom Thieves are a menace to society & by getting rid of them, people will finally feel safe in Japan. That’s what you want as well, right? ”

“ Yeah. Murderers aren’t welcome. ”

Once they had all entered, she presented the photographic evidence & introduced herself. Ryuji was in shock. Makoto seemed to be struggling to process the information. Explaining how both herself & Akechi had met, she pressed onto the point: Sae Niijima. She had to be saved from the mental shutdown culprits. An agreement of sorts was made by their rather stoic leader Akira. They would all work together to solve the cases.

{ Wed, 16 / 10 / 20XX & Thurs 17 / 11 / 20XX }

After the initial investigation into Sae’s Palace, keywords & location, these were the days of infiltration, so to speak. The Casino of Jealousy was vibrant & full of money. Coins were messily spread around on every single surface, posters containing snappy tag lines about how winning was key to survival. It was all so decadent. Cognitive shadows lined up for a chance to participate in the game known as the legal system. What a sick way to look at justice.

Despite the crimes they had committed, the Phantom Theives were very casual. They showed no symptoms of guilt nor doubt & insisted on these strangely flashy moves such as the All-Out Attack or the Showtime, in which they would defeat a bundle of enemies all at once. Although they were powerful, did they really feel the need to show off that much?

The other problem was their leader, Joker. He was tenaciously gripping onto both herself & Akechi { or Crow, was it? She never understood the need for the ridiculous code names... } to remain on the front lines to see what they could both do. Despite having bounds of energy at the beginning & regular breaks, it was quite tiring to keep having to constantly battle. Perhaps that was why she ended up being held captive by a Shadow.

It demanded Yen & safety. It was not a substantial amount of money & the Palace’s supposed ‘ Security Level ’ was not particularly high. She had seen how Akira had been picking through remains of the corpses of these beings, as they contained Yen. For some unknown reason during the negotiation, he simply refused to part. Apparently Joker, the supposed leader of the just Phantom Thieves believed some money more important than an ally.

Even as the shadow tore through skin & left almost fatal wounds, it hurt more to reaffirm her belief that the Phantom Theives were merciless.

Waking up was a surprise to be sure. To be greeted by Akechi in the nearest Safe Room asking if she was okay? It was very much a shock. He offered to patch up the wounds that were unreadable by her own hands & scolded her for being so reckless on that battlefield. It was good that both Queen & Mona were on hand, otherwise she would have died. Despite the presence of the other members of the group, this felt like a rather intimate moment.

The two of them kept having these strange moments: Delicately & intimate but as though something was missing.

A touch that lingered for longer than it needed to; Comforting words on a cool evening when she felt upset; Sitting within close proximity despite there being more space for the two of them than needed. Small signs that seemed to be hesitantly trying to convey something.

Even now as she paused to take in his appearance, it was startling. Dressed up in his princely regalia that was his Metaverse outfit, he looked rather charming. With golden tassels & a red cape, something about him seemed to just ooze noble. Though at times he could be slightly extra with the poses he pulled, Akechi was kind.

That was why she never saw it coming.

{ Thurs, 18 / 10 / 20XX }

Signaling for a meeting, Akira explained that they were going to write & send the Calling Card today. The debate about where to send it was long, strenuous & boring. After they eventually decided to be direct by mailing it to the Niijima residence, everyone disbanded for the day.

Aside for Akechi, who invited her to play Darts in Kichijoji. What a strange request.

The atmosphere was actually rather calming. At night, there were few around to disturb them. Handing over 800 Yen to play, the game began. It was nice to simply be able to talk about something unrelated to the Phantom Thieves for the both of them & although Akechi’s aim was unerring, she found it rather difficult to hit the tiny target, let alone land it in a specific place to score as many points as possible. After a while & with some expert advice, there was definitely some improvement.

By the time night struck, she had barely noticed until he had pointed it out. Everything was moving so swiftly. Offering to walk her to the train station, he was ever so polite. Until it rained.

It absolutely poured down with rain as the two of them descended the stairs of Penguin Sniper. Luckily, she had packed an umbrella into a crevice in her bag. The detective next to her? Not quite as fortunate as he sighed. Feeling bad, she offered to share & he accepted with reluctance after realising that it was better than the alternative of running home in the rain.

Being this close was both enthralling & embarrassing. Something about being forced this close to him was killing her. Akechi seemed to be doing alright, staying underneath to avoid both his hair & briefcase from becoming drenched by the cascading water. After a while that was in some respects a long time but in others not long at all, they reached the train station, parting ways when they had a difference in train line.

She knew exactly what she was feeling: There was no use in denial. Repressing such feelings would be more painful in the end. However, now was not the time to tell him. Catching the Phantom Thieves & saving Japan was more important than a high school romance. Filing the secret away for later, it was kept close to her heart.

{ Fri, 19 / 10 / 20XX }

It was almost too easy how quick everything was to fall into place. Putting on her best acting face was difficult but it was a believable lie, especially when most of the stress was based around getting Joker out alive. All their valiant efforts were for nothing. Similar to a spider spinning a web to catch prey, they had fallen victim.

After facing down the shadow of Sae Niijima herself on this strange roulette like battlefield, her desperate desire to achieve victory at all costs was her downfall & as she fell to her knees, clearly defeated, Queen went over to comfort her. Skull took Fox with him to steal the Treasure & once they discovered the numerous police forces that had made their way into the Metaverse, everything was taken up a notch.

Whilst Joker agreed to take the Treasure, thus becoming a distraction, everyone else would take the time to escape back to reality. A makeshift plan but one that would work in both her own & Akechi’s favour. Dashing along the protruding walls of the casino was thrilling as the group moved in sync, grappling along & weaving through like a natural born instinct.

Inevitably, he was captured. The leader of the Phantom Thieves, put behind bars. People would be safe from the mental shutdowns, they would no longer have to worry about having a psychotic breakdown. Without the branch that held them all together, there were no roots. As to not arouse suspicions, everyone parted ways until Akechi stopped her.

“ I... Know it’s rather late & we’ve just been to the Palace but there’s something I need to warn you about in the Metaverse. Will you join me in Mementos tomorrow morning? Preferably before school, if that’s okay with you, ” was all he requested with a ghost of a smile.

“ Sure, I don’t mind. Is there something else dangerous I should be worrying about? ”

“ It’s nothing too urgent but I thought I’d bring it to your attention since we are working on this case with the Phantom Thieves together. After all, we still need to hold the others accountable for their actions. ”

With that, she left. Akechi had always been a reliable source of information, so why would he lie?

{ Sat, 20 / 10 / 20XX }

It was the early morning. Despite the cold, she was in warm spirits as she approached the Shibuya line. Waiting there for her was the Detective Prince himself. Overnight, there was a decision made that once Akechi broke this bad news to her that she would change the mood by confessing. After all, it would be difficult to keep under lock & key.

Fading into the background as other students filtered in, they talked for a short period of time before getting down to business. Typing in ‘ Mementos ’ to the MetaNav was easy enough & there they were, standing at the dusty entrance.

Together, they fought their way down into a few floors below the surface. Although it took longer for them to traverse these levels due to not having a method of transportation such as the Mona Car, the Shadows were easy pickings for the two of them. At least, that is what she thought until two laser blasts from a ray gun burnt into her back.

Standing over her was a very different Goro Akechi to the person she had preciously known. What was once a charismatic smile that could charm anyone become a psychotic grin that looks unnaturally wide. Though she had once thought of his eyes as a storm of emotions, worries about the future & the safety of Japan, they were most definitely a typhoon, pulling victims in to tear them apart without a trace of mercy. Even as he called her a blind fool for trusting him & berated her sense of justice, the burning pain of the wounds that burnt through the Metaverse outfit were clouding her vision. She could have sworn there was the sound of someone walking away but there was too many sensations for her to clearly tell.

No one was going to find a dead body in the depths of Mementos. She found it morbidly ironic that her last thought was that she would never be able to tell Akechi how she truly felt.

Word Count: 2.3k

Publish Date: 06.10.20

[the-hotter-otter]

Strangers || ATEEZ Fanfic

Seonghwa X OC

Mafia/Crime AU

3.7k words

Part 3 || chapter list || previous chapter || next chapter

Hyejin can’t fully commit to Seonghwa’s tempting offer, meanwhile Hongjoong continues to keep secretes.

Warning: blood, minor death, injury, violence, knife use

Angst, fluff, smut, cussing, violence, death

note: ayo shit will start moving soon I promiseee, I seriously don’t know where this story is gonna go but fuck it we’ll see. 

No pov

Hongjoong wasn’t at all surprised when Seonghwa came into his office late at night. He could tell there was a lie in between the lines Seonghwa spoke when he confronted the two last week. Being best friends for years with a bit of blood, death and guns on the side really did bring people together. 

“What’s her name?” Hongjoong asked, he couldn’t stay mad at Seonghwa. Hongjoong knew punishment wasn’t necessary on the eldest who was already racking his brain on it, as a leader he could tell when further discipline was needed and when it was best to leave it to their own self conscience. “If she’s staying here, I should at least know.”

“Lee Hyejin,” Seonghwa said, cursing the weird feeling of familiarity he felt after saying her name. 

“Lee hyejin?” Hongjoong quirked an eyebrow, he’s definitely heard of the name from somewhere, he just couldn’t pinpoint where. “Sounds familiar.”

Seonghwa merely nodded, somewhat glad that Hongjoong didn’t directly question him. “I’ll take responsibility for her.”

Hongjoong liked the sound of that, though it didn't change the fact that he was overlooking one more person. “That means a lot of things hwa, keeping her in line, taking care of her, watching her and protecting her if shit goes down.”

“She isn’t 5.” Seonghwa sighed, “I’m not spoon feeding her.” 

“But she knows.” Hongjoong reminded him, “and she knows she has you wrapped around her finger, people take advantage of that.” 

“I can always shoot her.” Seonghwa said as if it were so simple.

Hongjoong looked him up and down, silently judging the older one. Hongjoong sighed, he wasn’t exactly up for this kind of conversation at 2:30am, “Dramatic much... Aish don't waste the bullets, the suppliers have been shitty to us lately.”

“What I’m saying is you won't have to worry,” Seonghwa said, “you’ll barely notice her.”

Hongjoong looked Seonghwa up and down, “you want her to stay that badly?” 

Seonghwa was taken back by the other’s awkward perspective, “yes? There really isn’t any ulterior motive.”

Hongjoong gave a dawdled nod as he chuckled, “I’m playing with you hwa. Bring her in, I’ll let the others know of our latest addition.”

Seonghwa was about to step out of the office when Hongjoong suddenly spoke up again, “don’t forget about that task I gave you.”

Seonghwa gave a sharp nod, “I'll see to it by the end of the day.”

“Dont fuck up!” Hongjoong noted loud enough for the other to hear, he could imagine the rise he got from it. Deep down he was just joking, after all, Seonghwa never fucks up. 

Hongjoong enjoyed the tease he gave his best friend, more often than not, the former was in tight situations with serious consequences, loosening up was often the last thing he’d find himself doing. 

His smile was short lived when he suddenly felt the vibrations of his phone, and it wasn’t from the bold red one that was sprawled on the desk with the many papers. His face dropped drastically upon realizing that someone was calling the phone hidden deep in his pockets. There was only one person who’d be ringing. 

Mazaki Meiyo.

“Yes?” Hongjoong cautiously spoke up, his eyes darting around the office. He got up and opened the door to check if anyone was giving his conversation a listen. 

“They moved the deal.”

Hongjoong pinched the bridge of his nose, “when?”

“In an hour. You know just as well as me that this isn’t going to end smoothly.”

“Your deals rarely end well.” Hongjoong scoffed bitterly, he pulled the phone away from his ear when the other line went dead. He had to go now if he were to make it in time, he couldn’t afford to be late, not for these kinds of deals. 

Hongjoong pushed off his seat and swiftly buckled his hidden artillery onto his thigh and around his torso, making sure that his best weaponry was in close reach, ready for whatever conflict he was about to get into. Pulling the hood over his masked face, he checked the location Meiyo had sent him. 

The leader eyed the pile of paperwork that was due in a matter of days, he dreaded the inevitable all-nighters we’ll have to pull because of it. 

As Hongjoong left the household in silence, he turned his main phone off completely and stowed it in a hidden compartment. No one was going to find him tonight.

-

Hyejin pov

I stared at the phone screen in dismay, the loan shark has been after my ass for the debt I’ve yet to pay. I've been trying, but even after much struggle I only possess half of what I owe. 

I hated to take that offer from Seonghwa, the money from that deal would have covered my debt and rent from my residence long enough for me to make something out of a scrubby part time job, he just had to ruin me once more.

Then again, what other choice do I have? I leaned back on the wall of the alleyway, I don’t know anyone in this world. I was forgotten years ago, Seonghwa is the last person I’d go with, but he’s also the only one. 

My eyes drifted to the tall buildings around, they blocked the sunlight from ever entering these shabby alleys with large bins and locked deserted gates and doors. I met with the gazes that had been watching me for a while now, in a building a few blocks away yet still in perfect view, two middle aged men who most likely reeked of cigarettes and alcohol admired me from their apartment which could easily come off as an abandoned building left to collect dust and grime.

I squinted my eyes as I felt my vision start to give into fatigue, unrealistic hues of blue and neons started bouncing around. Every now and then, the migraine in my head would dust my eyes with a cloud of grey that blurred my sight ever so slightly. I sighed as I began seeing four instead of two weird men. I tried to refrain from focusing on anything, the lack of good sleep and food had me feeling all sorts of murky effects. 

Their stalkerish behaviour had been creeping me out for the past few days, despite it, I never saw a proper reason to leave the little spot I've claimed for rest. Plus, the odd duo hadn’t made any advances that had worried me thus far. 

The day continued, and the city had been busy as usual. Bikes raced down the side of the roads and paths, scaring the uptight mothers into a slur of curses. Teenage girls carelessly skipped around in their tiny croptops, powdery make up and flaunty shoes with boys their parents have no idea existed. Cars drove with their temperamental owners honking and anything and everything, then there were the workers who were either strolling around after their shifts or sprinting in swerves around people in effort to not be late.

Yet here I was sitting in a slump not so far from the hoards of people, absorbing the natural noises of the city that started to sound more like blaring megaphones instead of white noise. 9pm had crept faster than I expected, truthfully I wasn’t sure whether or not to go through with Seonghwa’s offer. I still had a chance to reconsider, perhaps I could deal with the information for money? After all, a controversial topic surrounding Seonghwa would no doubt bring in a big sum. 

I shook my head from the ludicrous thoughts, there was no guarantee in shady business, ever. It's a far-fetched plan, and the fact that I didn't have a name to my face meant I was that less convincing. 

Though I knew this offer would mean gambling my safety and if I were to stretch the possibilities, my own life. I still wasn’t 100% on board with the whole moving in with Seonghwa and whatever team he’s apart off, neither could I fathom the thought of that sinful man working with people, and that’s without mentioning his sudden change in attitude towards his victims.

It was yet another reason why I’m so reluctant to associate with him, because this isn’t the Seonghwa I was familiar with, he was a stranger, and no one is at ease when they’re affiliated with someone they don't know, especially when that person had guns, knives and all sorts of deadly possessions in their grasp. 

I groaned as I got up with a hazy mind. I looked up and to my suprise the stretchy men were back to watch me, it started to feel uncomfortable now. “Nice knowing you too I guess…” I keep my voice to a murmur. Soon I found myself heading to the meeting spot. 

My heart feels enraged with regret, and it’s impossible to ignore. There was a mere few minutes till the clock struck 9, I can get out of here now or never. 

The Central Train Station was quite grand. With multiple steps just to get to the entrance, neatly trimmed gardens surrounding the place and ancient pillars that held up the building. It was one of the older buildings that turned into a modern utility. 

“Fuck...” I muttered under my breath, “no, fuck this.”

Before I could think I was already speed walking to get the hell out of here. I had pride, I could at least preserve that after losing everything else. 

-

No pov

Blood coated the blade and splattered across the floor and walls of the office, the books on the shelf were drenched and soaking up every bit of red fluid. If only the man had just followed through with the deal, he wouldn’t have ended up dead. 

“What a hassle.” Seonghwa sighed, as he wiped his blade clean on his way out, though it was satisfying seeing the horrors painted on his face as Seonghwa taunted him, revenge for the knife he flung at Hongjoong during their last deal not long ago. 

Seonghwa analysed the slash along his shoulder area, it wasn’t serious at all but it sure did look ugly and soaked his dress shirt in a dark red, in the midst of the tension it felt numb but as his heart rate came down he could slowly feel the stinging pain emitting from the open flesh. He let out a relieved sigh after knowing that none of his own blood had ended up dripping anywhere. 

If it weren’t for the man’s sleeping family in the other room, Seonghwa could have easily finished it off with a bullet but he had to move silently. In turn, it cost him when the man felt fit to fight back with his own blade.

Seonghwa felt Hyejin was partly accountable for his injury. 20 minutes was a bit of a rush for a mission like this, but he had no choice if he was going to make it to the station in time. There was a chance that Hyejin wouldn’t even show up, and that chance made seonghwa unsteady and tense. 

As he pulled up to a red light he felt a distant memory unfold, one that brought a sense of discomfort.

Laughter bubbled up in the front of the car, toothy smiles that twinkled despite the gloomy rain outside. The lull of the music had been turned down for a while now as the soft chatter continued. 

“Hyejin, I told you I don’t need anything for my birthday.” Seonghwa insisted once more with a light chuckle, his one hand on the wheel while the other tried to hold her hand back. He watched in helplessness as she clipped the dangling toothless charm around the rear mirror of the car, her little laugh escaping her lips as it dangled between them.

“It’s cute! I’m telling you, you look just like him.” Hyejin insisted, “and that’s not even the best part.”

Seonghwa couldn't help but smile when the toothless unclipped in half to reveal a small photo framed inside, the details were minuscule but clearly contained the two of them on one of their more memorable dates. 

“Ya, this looks expensive, how much did you spend on me.” Seonghwa diverted the conversation as he observed the matte black of the green eyed dragon. 

“It wasn’t much, don't worry hwa.” Hyejin patted his hand, “I’ve got something else, it's more personal since I made it myself.” 

“So you have something else now?” Seonghwa sighed, though his stupid grin betrayed the annoyed look he tried to show.

The red light cascaded from red to orange to green and before hyejin could whip out the other half of her gift seonghwa sped off, “fine! I’ll accept your gifts, love.”

Seonghwa sneered at the Toothless charm he had yet to take off, if anything it became part of his car’s identity, making it slightly easier to navigate the garage of small black cars, specially on the days when all the vehicles would be together. 

Seonghwa had pulled to a slow stop in front of the station, hiding the charm was his first and foremost priority, Hyejin would most definitely recognize it. 

As he was about to yank the chain off, the corner of his eyes caught a sudden shadow appearing at the window.

Completely forgetting about the charm, Seonghwa halted in his seat, his hand already clasped around the gun latched onto him. It wasn’t until a hesitant Hyejin peered through the window did he relax his grip. On the other hand, Hyejin was feeling anything but relaxed, especially after seeing the bloodbath of a man in the driver's seat.

“So you’ll take my offer?” Seonghwa asked as if it wasn't already obvious enough, Hyejin scoffed. Her response was seen through the way she snuggled down into the passenger seat in a strained sigh of relief after being situated on the hard concrete for days on days.

Throughout the ride Hyejin had kept a careful observation of the roads they had been speeding across, if worse came to worse, she could make a run for it. 

Hyejin silently and subtly glanced around, the car itself hadn’t changed at all, not even the peppermint scent it gave off from the gum Seonghwa had been loyal to for most of his life, though it was currently heavily overpowered by the stench of blood. Hyejin didn’t want to know how and what got him that gruesome injury.

However, the most prominent and unusual feature that had still existed in the car was the all too familiar charm that dangled and swung around underneath the rearview mirror. The dragon's bright green eyes and toothy smile didn't go unnoticed, especially since Hyejin was the one who got it for him years ago. 

Hyejin had the decency to stay silent about it, the stiffness of the air was already far too overbearing, there was no need to intensify it’s sour atmosphere.

“It’s not just me who lives here.” Seonghwa brings up, 

“I figured.” Hyejin sighed, she had heard the many rumours over the years of how a certain group had been overturning the criminal world with unrivaled skill and accomplishments, they became big in the industry. This group of young, skilled men made a name for themselves and it became one feared by many, ATEEZ. 

Though it wasn’t just their skill that had made them the talk of many circles, it was the people within the group, the majority of which already had a reputation high on their shoulders. Hyejin had heard of the promising sniper who had joined their ranks, the insanely witty dealer who knew how to smooth talk his way to riches, the stealthy man who snuck into and claimed dangerous possessions without a single sound. 

Then there was the hitman who possessed the skill of 100 men, he was a young and promising lone wolf who had been rumoured to have joined ATEEZ.

Hyejin didn’t want to believe it was Seonghwa, in fact she didn't want to hear about anything related to Seonghwa, but it wasn’t possible when she was involved with loan sharks and illegal exchanges for the money she was in dire need for. Of course, because of her interactions with others, Hyejin was aware of Seonghwa’s growing skill and relevant changes, it disgusted her to say the least, how much better he had gotten at taking lives.

However the failed deal from last week confirmed her denial to be wrong, Seonghwa was well and truly closely associated with a group, and that group was no doubt ATEEZ.

“Dont try anything stupid.” Seonghwa warned, Hyejin rolled her eyes slightly, “I’m serious, I see the way you're memorizing these roads.”

Hyejin froze momentarily, she eyed Seonghwa who had removed his eyes from the road after stopping at a red light. Hyejin had forgotten how sharp he actually was, the intellectual from highschool still existed within him.

Hyejin got the chance to really see how much Seonghwa had changed, even underneath all of that stained blood and light smears of dirt, she could easily tell that his facial features had sharpened immensely, he wasn’t the same soft faced charmer that made highschool hearts throbs on a daily. If anything, Seonghwa now resembled a high class heartbreaker with a body count worthy enough for a world record. 

Of course some things don't ever change, like his lush lip and stunning eyes that stared back at her. Before the awkwardness could settle, Hyejin looked away, subconsciously glancing at the toothless charm. Seonghwa noticed the glare she gave it, his hands went to take it off but was ultimately stopped by the swat Hyejin gave.

“What’s the point of taking it off now? You had years to do that.” Hyejin raised an eyebrow. 

Seonghwa did not respond and merely sighed as he began moving on the road once again. Hyejin was taken back when they suddenly verged off into a bush area, what was a simple scenery of grass turned into a splatter of greenery. Trees towered high, vines and dense bushes had taken over, it was an untouched forest and they were driving right through it.

Hyejins eyes squinted in growing concern, she wanted to believe they were just passing through to get to another town, but her panic only continued to rise as they got deeper into the maze of nature. Her eyes glare at Seonghwa who seemed to have already expected her to build up doubts.

“Jump out and you’ll be as good as dead.” Seonghwa warned, as he quickly glanced at her stray hand reluctantly reaching for the handle.

“Where are we going Seonghwa….” Hyejin glowered at the driver who was rather unfazed. Even when the subtle sound of a knife being drawn was heard, Seonghwa didn't look away from the road.

The driver pushed his head back against the seat as soon as he caught sight of the fast approaching knife. With the blade a finger's length away, Seonghwa sighed, “I’m not gonna hurt. We’re going to the house, so put the knife down and have a little faith.” 

“Who the hell lives in a goddam forest?!” Hyejin hissed in a raised voice, her eyes teared up from staring so intensely into his side profile. 

“Put the knife down or we’ll both die.” Seonghwa lowered his voice, and Hyejin did not comply. The male halted the car to connect his eyes to hers, in one swift and unnoticeable movement, he grasped her wrist tightly, causing the knife to be let loose and drop to the pit of the car. Hyejin suddenly let a sharp exhale out as Seonghwa pinned her hand down in between them. She cursed her hazy headaches for causing the drastic disadvantage against Seonghwa.

“Stop panicking, we’re almost there.” Seonghwa said as he began driving once again, Hyejin didn’t attempt to squirm out of his hold.

“Your a fucking joke,” Hyejin hissed, “I’ll never put faith in you, not after all the shit you’ve done to me.” 

Soenghwa pinched his lips together at the indirect upbringing of her family’s murder. He wasn’t about to smooth that mess out now, it’ll require a calmer Hyejin and a better situation to explain. 

Hyejin tried to compose herself, but she knew the only way to soothe her panic was to see proof of what Seonghwa was saying.

As they pulled into the driveway of Horizon, Hyejin's tense shoulders melted into the seat. Seonghwa scoffed as he got out of the car first. The jerking of his head signalled for her to get out, hyejin sneered at the man, “give me a damn second will you?”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes before heading inside momentarily, most likely to check if anyone was still up in the early stages of the night. Hyejin took the time alone to get a good grasp at what she had just gotten herself into.

A house, full of dangerous men, in the middle of a forest and a single long ass road back to civilization. 

This wasn’t ideal at all, and Hyejin started to regret this more than ever.

As she took in short breaths her eyes trailed back to the rear mirror charm. All of a sudden, curiosity had her fiddling with the Toothless till it unlatched. She furrowed her eyebrows at the sight of the blank frame. It wasn’t that she was disappointed, it was merely confusion.

“But you keep the charm…” Hyejin glared at the Toothless that was once a gift of love. In the back of her mind she wondered if her other gift was still intact.

Hyejin could worry about that later. Right now, she needed to stay sane and alive, she knew well enough that she would never be guaranteed a way out of death's grasps. Relish in the house and slowly pay off her existing debt? Yes. Get comfortable and trust that your back will be safe in a distant place full of criminals? Hell no.

[roguish-gallery]

Did you ever make that joker tier list, I always like seeing what people think of all the different ones. Though if they put Romero last I can no longer respect them.

LMAO I DID! I think I’ve made it kind of obvious in this blog but I... don’t... particularly... care... for... the joker.... unless he’s, y’know, fun to watch. Cause he’s a clown, and clowns are supposed to be entertaining. But since you politely brought it up, and and because I have a deep respect for mutual Romero-lovers, I guess this would be a good time to explain my rankings and just discuss my general thoughts on each clown:

General Thoughts:

For the most part, I don’t really care for the Joker. This is hardly an uncommon opinion here on tumblr, but I definitely fall on the side of the fandom that feels that he gets too much attention from DC. I get WHY they use him so often for films and comics, and I don’t have anything against *most* folks who consider them their favorite Batman villain, but at this point he’s used more for shock value and as a crutch instead of anything interesting. Like, instead of giving attention to the other Rogues, writers (at least for the comics) will try and make up some bullshit story that they can shoehorn the Joker into, ‘cause it sells. It’s tiring, and I feel like the character has lost his meaning; I can only read so many stories about the Joker, I don’t fucking know, wearing a suit made from dead babies and Jason Todd’s flayed corpse before I get sick of it.

I’m at the point where I’ll like any Joker who’s just fun to watch. I genuinely respect those who prefer darker interpretations of the character, but that isn’t me; I vastly prefer the lighthearted takes on him, because... at this point... writers who use the “cleaner” version of him tend to be more creative, since they actually have to write a Joker story that doesn’t rely on gore/torture porn.

TIER ONE:

Joker Baby: Self explanatory. Joker Baby is thematic, thoughtful, and intense. Everytime I watch this video, I shiver with fear and pleasure; something primal in me awakens whenever Joker Baby runs his fingers through his spray-on dyed hair, and ends up smearing green paint on his forehead- it represents the inner turmoil, the chaos, that resides within the disturbed body that is Joker Baby. Nothing can ever hope to top the artistic and cultural impact Joker Baby has had on society.

TIER TWO:

Batman Ninja: I genuinely believe that Batman Ninja is one of the most fun, organic, and creative things to come out from the Batman side of DC comics in like... hmmm... a decade, maybe (I could talk for hours about how much I love this movie but that’s something for a future post). This Joker is easily, and unironically my favorite interpretation of the character, period. I love his energy, his design, everything. This is the most fun I’ve ever had watching a Joker on-screen, and for that I’ve gotta give the film credit where it is due.

Batman ‘66: I looooove Caesar Romero. Batman ‘66 in general is one of my favorite pieces of Batman media, and I absolutely adore this Joker. The show is pure, genuine fun, and it’s nice to turn my brain off and watch a show where the entire cast was allowed to goof around. This Joker is just a cute, goofy little clown-man who likes to commit crimes, go surfing, turn Gotham’s water reserve into gelatin, and have wild orgies with Penguin, Catwoman, and the Riddler. I massively appreciate the hustle. I love his little mustache and his facial expressions. I’d give him a chaste little kiss on the cheek if I could.

The Batman: EXTREMELY CONTROVERSIAL TAKE BUT. I think TB!Joker is better than what people will give him credit for. I can only imagine how stressful it must have been to be the first Batman cartoon to follow BTAS and the writers for this show knew they were gonna be fucked no matter what they did with the Joker, so they just decided to try something completely different with him. Personally, I appreciate the new direction- he has a fun, unhinged energy. I’ve placed him higher than BTAS/BTNA!Joker simply because The Batman was the show that got me into the Rogues in the first place, and I’m just a bit closer to this Joker because of it. Also his vampire form was cool as FUCK in Batman Vs. Dracula and the scene where he gets drenched in blood at a blood bank is fucking awesome.

Batman the Animated Series/The New Adventures: Everyone loves BTAS’s Joker, and I’m no exception. Mark Hamill is fucking great, and the writers clearly knew the character well enough to create a version of him that can be fun and threatening. As an aside, I unironically like his redesign in BTNA- I remember Hamill mentioning somewhere that he thought it was neat that this Joker looked more like a shark (I’ll see if I can find a source on that... I think he said it in an interview with Kevin Smith?) and I kinda agree with him. the redesigns in the final season are hit or miss, but I didn’t get why so many people bitched about the Joker’s new look.

Batman Unlimited: Hear me out... Hear me out... Clown... funny... and cute... He wears a little crown and gives Solomon Grundy a little smooch on the cheek and it is as delightful as it sounds. Yes the Batman Unlimited films literally only exist to sell toys but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy them on some ironic level.

TIER THREE:

Lego Batman: He’s a gay icon. He has the range. Enough said.

White Knight: This is just a genuinely good, original take on the character, and the art in White Knight is absolutely gorgeous. 

Arkham: My friends and I joke that this Joker is basically a more unhinged version of BTAS! Joker and... yeah. I’m glad Hamill and Paul Dini got to fuck around with the character more, but I never really dwelled on the Joker parts of the games like I might have for other characters. I definitely liked him the most in Arkham Asylum, as he was more fun to watch. Arkham City was fiiiiine, but I think I replayed the game so much that I kinda got fatigued with everything about it. Genuinely hated his part in Origins, and I was pissed that he stole the attention from Black Mask and Bane (who’s the best fucking part of Origins IMO). I’ll admit that I... Haven’t... played... Knight yet (I have it on PC but my laptop is too wimpy to run it) but like... He’s dead at that point, so I’d assume he isn’t the main point of that game anyway. I love Mark Hamill and the fact I can personally beat the shit out of this Joker, so he’s ranked up pretty high for those reasons.

TIER FOUR:

Batman ‘89: TBH this Joker should be a rank higher, but I’m too lazy to hop onto PicsArt to change it. NIcholson was an excellent choice, and I apprecaite how this Joker makes use of the playful and unhinged aspects of the character. Also, his outfits are cute, and I love the museum scene.

Brave and the Bold: Technically this Joker SHOULD be ranked higher since he’s literally based on the more lighthearted comics in the 60′s but... ehhh... I haven’t really watched BATB so I don’t have any strong opinions on the show and how it handles the character. he’s ranked this high through beause I appreciate what they were going for.

Golden Age: The quality of comics are always subjective, based on the creative team behind them. Some I’ll like more, others less so, It’s kind of hard to rank the pre-52 comic version of the Joker because of this.

TIER FIVE:

Killing Joke: Read it, didn’t care for it. I acknowledge how massive the impact this comic had on... everything, but just because I recognize how important this graphic novel is, doesn’t mean I have to like it.

The Dark Knight: Ledger did an excellent job with the role, but uhh... I’m kind of sick of the alt-right chuds who are out there sucking this Joker’s dick. The fanbase definitely ruined the character for me.

TIER SIX:

99′: Eh

Endgame: No

Suicide Squad: NO

Death of the Family: Hate him. Despise him. Lame stupid dumb little edgy bitch.

Gotham (Jeremiah): I don’t particulary care for Gotham in general, but the only reason I ranked this Joker over Jerome is beause I thought it was kinda funny to see that they made him a little rat-man, and I liked watching all the fujoshi on here cry and complain that they can’t ship this version of the joker with the pre-pubescent Bruce Wayne in the show bc he’s too ugly.

Gotham (Jerome): stop shippping this freak (who is fucking eighteen years old) with a literal twelve year old child. what the FUCK is wrong with yall.

UNRANKED:

The Joker (2019): I don’t plan on watching this film, nor will I ever. I know this is ironic, coming from someone who runs a Rogue blog, but stuff that focuses primarily on a character’s deteriorating mental health makes me reaaaaallllllyyyyy anxious (it’s kind of a phobia) and considering that I don’t particularly the Joker, I have no reason to watch something I know will only give my dumb ADHD-ass intrusive throughts.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Αιώνια αγάπη (DT AU), pt. 10*

10: Hecate

Summary: What is dead doesn’t always remain dead. And what choices seem sealed in stone, don’t always remain that way. Y/N’s choice will shock them both.

Warnings: death, blood, fluff, angst, swearing, SMUT

Word count: 7.4k

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Special thanks to @mutuallynotmutual for being in the story as Alyssa, @leonardo-da-vinsheep as Perry, ​@godlydolans as Yashi and @daddygraysonsbitch as Sara.

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Αιώνια αγάπη (DT Modern Greek god/frat! AU) MASTERLIST    

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Hermes could feel his blood boil as if he has been dragged to the Underworld and the torture had begun - once a torturer and now the torturé . It's been there a while now, this anger, escaping when he least expects it which results in all those historically horrid things he had done, posing as if it's all for the cause, but it isn't and it never was. Y/N changed that. She changed most of his self-destructive behavior and showed him the light, made him want to be a better man - deserving of her.

In a way, he missed home too. He'd never admit to it out loud because he didn't understand it himself, mostly because he never quite fit in with everyone in Mount Olympus, only with a few down below. It felt strange...the longing for home and vengeance finally erased as he laid his eyes upon the strange bookworm who was born a legacy to more than just a sorority. He found himself enthralled, dedicated, prepared to do anything - even kill, just to keep her safe.

And then she chose his brother.

Perhaps she didn't say the words, but she proved it by sleeping with him. He didn't doubt Hecate's words, believing her on the spot which is exactly what brought his anger back, allowing it to take over and spread like wildfire as he drenched his hands in blood. His once-long forgotten wife, breaking every vow he gave her. True, he did the same with Yashi, and while she never spoke a word of her choice, he knew in his heart he'd be the one because she gave herself to him in all the ways a woman could share her affections.

Y/N did the same. Just not with him.

He stopped at the top of the stairwell, noticing the house that's usually vibrant and filled with a dozen or so voices at all times is now quiet and empty. He stopped at the top, fearing what he'll see will send him into the deep end.

He hears tiny screams, giggly almost from the end of the hall, hiding newly made lovers from view and although he doesn't want to see it, he needs to. Refocusing his fear of a broken heart back to anger, he clenches both fists and heads straight for the door, opening it with ease and as quietly as possible.

The view he's met with is different than what he expected, but just as heart-wrenching.

Y/N is giggling, running from one side of the bed to the other, her arms outstretched and hands open with palms turned to a breathless Apollo, who is clearly chasing after her. Neither of them are fully dressed, their underwear on display and in Y/N's case, deep purple marks draw Hermes' attention as they are littered on her hips and her thighs.

Hermes watches without interruption, standing there with his hands on his hips, a dark look in his brown eyes as he glares at their happy little bubble, hoping it bursts violently and makes their happiness turn sour.

Apollo lifts Y/N by her hips, placing his hands just above the bruises he left by accident - unaware just how much stronger he is than her. He had little control once he let himself feel everything in its entirety, but he vowed to be more careful next time. If there is a next time.

Spinning her around, Y/N's face falls as she set her eyes on a steaming Hermes, slapping her palms across Apollo's arms that wrapped so tightly about her, his face buried in the crook of her neck as he pressed his lips into the soft flesh with vigor.

Once he noticed his brother standing at the door as well, he stopped like a whip lashed across his back. They stared at the dark figure Hermes became, both with mouth open and eyes wide, caught in the act and guilty as fuck. Y/N's cheeks turned a shade darker, her heart beating so strongly that it moved her chest physically, beating wildly enough for it to be visible just by glancing at her.

"Oh, don't stop on my account." Hermes all but chuckles in his sarcastic and unusually light, slightly pitched tone, both his arms raised in mock surrender.

"I'm just out there trying to make sure Y/N doesn't end up like Hecate's body double while you're fucking each other's brains out, no biggie." He pursed his lips, eyes narrowing ever so slightly as the pout on his lips tugged sideways into a small, crooked smile.

"Hope you used condoms." Hermes sneers, stepping closer so fast Y/N barely has a chance to react as he stops before her, his eyes barely flickering down toward her as he gets into Apollo's face, both breathing heavy as she finds herself stuck in between two broad gods who wanted to rip each other apart.

"Ethan stop." She whispers, unable to raise her voice as her mouth is as dry as Sahara and her heart's new pace is making her dizzy.

"Think you're so sleek, using the chance to manipulate her into fucking you when she just suffered a tremendous loss? Huh?" Hermes speaks through gritted teeth, specks of spit passing through as well as the words, landing on Apollo's cheek.

Y/N raises her hands to Hermes' chest, feeling how fast his heart is beating as well, hoping she can convince him to step back. But even when she gives him a little push, she barely moves him. He's as unmovable as a mountain, but he isn't blind to her being in a very dangerous position. Grabbing her by the arm, he moves her out the way, standing tall and menacing before his brother, his built in best friend and partner in crime for centuries now.

"Maybe it's time we stop playing nice." Hermes utters, making Y/N's heart fall. Apollo keeps his eyes on his brother, seeing he is more hurt than angry, knowing he is very much the reason why he feels that way.

"No. Stop. Ethan, please. Let's just talk things out? I'm sorry I slept with him, but I'm not sorry I love him." Her voice breaks, her words amplifying the pain and the damage on his heart growing.

"Or you." She adds, stumbling toward him. Standing on his right side, she places a hand on his left shoulder and another on his right cheek tenderly.

"Because I do love you. With all my heart. Both of you." She admits, hearing just how insane she seems, but it's true. She loves them, almost immeasurably and contrary to what she believed before knowing them, you can love more than one person at the same time.

"Both of us?" Hermes turns to her, his left eyebrow raising as he pulls his lips into a sneer.

"I did not just kill Hecate for you to say you love us both!" Raising his voice at her, Y/N stumbles back, clearly frightened by the outburst which prompts Apollo to push Hermes away from her in his dire need of protecting Y/N. He's never seen his brother so angry since they arrived on Earth, unable to predict what he might do.

But Y/N would not be intimidated. She stopped, huffed and proudly stepped closer despite the lack of clothes on her body she was so used to hiding but now flaunts after Grayson's lips gave her the confidence to embrace all the flaws she hated.

"Truth is, there are two types of men in this world." She raises one finger and cocks her head to the side, sharing a look with Hermes. "First are those who never love anyone more than they love themselves. They're virtually only with a woman for sex and an ego boost." She purses her lips and raises a second finger, looking to the other brother. "Second are those who fall in love five times a day and never truly commit to a woman. They're clueless about what they really want and unable to stop their wandering eyes." She gives him a pointed look, raising an eyebrow. "And I'm still trying to figure out which category you two belong to."

Drawing in a deep breath, she presses her lips together.

"Maybe both, perhaps a third one? Either way, I need you two to stop fighting over me like I'm a prized possession. Because, yes, it's not ideal and I might not understand it myself, but I just realized I love two gods - Apollo AND Hermes, despite all the shit you've done and covered up and all the stories about you throughout history and mythology." Folding her arms over her chest, just under her bra, Y/N raises her right eyebrow.

"Now stop bickering, because we can work on this later. I'm more curious about you saying you've killed Hecate?" Pausing, she purses her lips, content they're both quiet and obedient in the moment, even smirking at their calmness.

However, once neither of them moved an inch, Y/N felt something isn't quite right. It's a gut feeling, the type that makes you nauseous and drives you to the brink of madness the longer it lasts.

"Guys?" She opened her palms, waving before their eyes in vain as they stared ahead where she stood moments before, unresponsive.

She turned around, looking out the previously bright morning sky that had turned to a charcoal cloud. Then she heard it, the thunder rolled across the malevolent sky. The untamed power reverberated and echoed across the neighborhood, flashing lighting following.

Swiftly turning back to the frozen gods, she slapped them both across the face in one move, rushing to her window in a haze as they frowned at one another, rediscovering reality.

"Oh, wow. Hermes?" She calls out, waving him over whilst continuing.

"Thought you said she died." Looking down, it's impossible to miss a horde of the undead under her window, her own Kappa sisters seemingly a part of the entourage, but so are the KDRs. Hecate stands front line, staring at the window with a blank facial expression, her dress drenched in a dark maroon, her eyes as stormy as the sky.

Moving past the gods, Y/N grabs the first thing at hand, her discarded clothes on the floor and puts them on before heading for the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" Stunned, they finally speak and in unison at that, rushing after their beloved who seemed to be on a mission. A suicide mission.

"To end this." She replies, slamming the front door open as she steps into a horror show.A living nightmare. The wind whipped around and sent locks of her hair flying back, some sidetracking to her face before joining the rest of her hair at the back.

Not lacking confidence, absolutely sure of herself, she walks toward Hecate with a furious look on her face before stopping few inches short of her.

"Hecate." She states, her face softening infinitely before throwing her arms around the old goddess, her blood, bringing her into her arms enthusiastically. She held on tight, slowly looking around the lined up zombies.

"I thought you were gone. Oh, I'm so happy you're alright." Y/N's high pitched voice and reaction disarms Hermes, his entire body trembling. Unable to comprehend, he watched the scene unravel, shocked beyond belief. Apollo on the other hand is completely out of his mind, moments before deciding to do the unforgivable and kill Hecate himself, terrified she might turn on Y/N.

"I'm not that easy to kill. Had my husband ever cared to talk to me, he'd know that." She smiled genuinely, happy to have her blood on her side as she releases her from the hug Y/N imposed on her but she embraced wholeheartedly.

"STOP CALLING ME YOUR HUSBAND", Hermes shouts out, no more holding back his anger. After all, his girl - his real girl is in danger. Even if her stubborn ass doesn't know it yet.

"But you are. A lecherous husband, but a husband nonetheless. Gods don't divorce. We don't part for as long as we live, which is forever if I may remind you." Hecate snickers while Y/N looks around, finding Perry to her right, Sara and Alyssa both to her left, a few feet apart. Neither of them seem to be zombies, merely spelled into obedient minions.

"After all, I am not like the rest of you. I am a necromancer! I am the offspring of two titans! I can only be killed by that blade, true...but only if my own blood wields it!" As if on cue, Y/N saw the blade in question in Hecate's possession. Well, one of her zombified creatures - a woman held it.

A woman of five feet and seven inches, lips steady in a grimace and a small freckle on her cupid bow now stark contrast to her grey skin. Black braids fall around her face, creating a more looming figure instead of the beautiful one she used to be. Her eyes are black, surrounding the yellow pupil, now soulless and lifeless. She tilts her head, revealing one golden earring now corroded instead of its usual sparkle.

While Y/N doesn't know her, Hermes does. He saw where Y/N looked toward, recognizing his almost lover from so long ago he forgot how she looked like. Until now. But her memory is now tainted, her beauty eclipsed by death. Yashi.

Apollo saw her too, but he was more worried about what Y/N is trying to do. He knew she didn't like Hecate nor did she want her in her life any longer. In fact, he was quite certain she'd try something stupid which will only get her hurt. And that wasn't an option for him. He'd rather die a thousand deaths than watch her hurt, even for a single moment.

As predicted, Y/N threw herself at the zombified Yashi, tearing not only the dagger but her hand off as well. She managed to push the knife into Hecate's side, hearing her groan and her breath hitch as she turned around with a betrayed, hurt look on her face. Raising her palm, a faint purple light comes to life, blasting Y/N backwards into the zombie horde. If Hecate dies, she's taking Y/N down with her.

However, once the blade pierced her heart, the blast being last of her magic, all the creatures she brought to life turned to ashes. Hecate herself turned into nothing more than a pile of ashes the wind blew away in one swept-move, the sky clearing up as all the sorority girls and frat guys passed out cold.

Apollo and Hermes set of running toward their one true love, each lifting one part of her up to help her stand. She groaned and her entire body hurt - not entirely Hecate's doing, but she was in pain and she did need a break from all the crazy for a while.

"You okay?" Hermes asked, sharing a concerned look with his brother before they both looked to her with worry on their faces.

Nodding, Y/N chuckled, allowing herself to lean onto her men and enjoy the victory.

"Yeah, but...can I still call you Ethan and Grayson? Kinda fits you." She smiled fondly, noticing Ethan's lip spread into a slightly wider smile as she used his human name first. So competitive...

"You can call me a douche and I'd still come running." Grayson chuckles, undeniably happy she's safe and protected now, all the danger finally gone from their lives. In fact, even Ethan didn't mind sharing a little at this point, happy to have some piece of her love him back. He'd take anything she offers, as long as there is something to offer.

"Douche and a Pyromaniac", she hums to herself, walking back inside, avoiding their fellows on the ground.

"Tell them there was a party and they all got wasted?" Ethan suggests, getting two nods of approval.

They returned to their room, a small paradise for Apollo as he easily remembered Y/N writhing underneath his weight as he derived pleasure from all her moans. A small piece of hell for Hermes as he saw the blood stain on the bed, tearing the sheets off and putting fresh ones with Apollo's help.

Almost an entire day passed for them, all three asleep in a single bed, holding each other for dear life after the scare. However, Y/N found herself to be restless still, waking up in the middle of a very delicious sandwich. Throwing her leg across Ethan, she felt the floor at her tiptoes, using it to her advantage to stand up and walk outside. Little did she know she stirred the sleeping god awake, and he followed after her with a blanket to wrap her up in the cold autumn night.

"Sharing for a night is fine, but you do have to choose." Ethan speaks calmly, his voice raspy from the sleep.

"I know." She sighs, feeling Ethan wrap the blanket around her form, his arms following soon after. However, even with that knowledge, she wished for more time to find a loophole. It's selfish to want to keep them both, but she allowed herself such selfishness for a while. After all, she's been nothing if not selfless her entire life - she figured she could allow herself this small crime. Covering two brothers, gods at that. Wanting them both in every humanly way possible.

"But I want to enjoy this moment. When I have you both with me." She leans back, into his chest, her head reaching just a few inches below his chin. Turning in his embrace, Y/N stepped back to properly view his beauty. Untold by any artist, he stood as testimony of all nature's wonders.

She shattered his calm by smiling more deeply and holding out her hand. Instinctively, he took it, fingers closing firmly. Then he caught himself. His expression rigidly impassive, he looked down at her face, into her eyes, warm and alluring, and struggled to find some way to tell her this was madness. That, after all that went down between them, to stand together on this porch and look out at the drizzling rain was too dangerous. That he could no longer guarantee his behavior, his usual coolness under fire, his customary command - gentlemanly manors. No words sprang to mind as he was not capable of making such an admission of weakness. Even though it was true. But then he remembered she wasn't as pure, no longer a virgin. He didn't care much for the customs, but it destroyed his ego once he saw the blood on the sheets. If it had been anyone else but Apollo, he'd be fine with it.

Now? All he wanted was to erase his mark on her body.

Y/N gave him no time to wrestle with his conscience, she tugged. With no excuse forthcoming, Hermes inwardly sighed, allowing his firm chest to graze hers. She relaxed against him, warm and trusting, only to impinge on his senses in a thousand different ways. Her very softness tensed his muscles; her curves, fitting against him, within his arms, invoked his demons. He drew a steadying breath and her perfume washed through him, subtly evoking, enticing. Her hands slid over his arms, wrapped around her waist, and came to rest on his hands, her warm palms curved over the backs of his. Outside, the rain continued; inside them, heat rose.

Jaw clenched, Hermes fought to endure. He might have succeeded if she hadn't, without warning, pushed closer to him. On her tiptoes her lips were mere inches from his. Her body followed, sliding impossibly close; he tightened his grip, sank his fingers into soft flesh, but it was already too late. Her gaze had fixed on his lips. Desperation could reduce even the strongest to pleading. Even him.

"Y/N, I - " She cut him off, sealing his lips with hers.

Hermes fought to hold her back, but there was no strength in his arms, not for that maneuver. Instead, his muscles strained to crush her to him. He managed to stop himself from doing that, only to feel them sinking back into the couch the rest of the frats once said would be of no use...Well, he surely found the use as she wrapped her legs around his waist and started grinding down on him, her silky nightgown riding up her thighs.

Within seconds, they were close to horizontal, with her stretched against him, half-atop him. Hermes inwardly groaned. His lips parted, and she was kissing him and he was kissing her.

Gradually, he wrested back control, distantly aware that she relinquished the reins too readily. But the small victory encouraged him; he reminded himself that he was stronger than she is, infinitely more experienced than her and that he'd successfully managed women far more knowledgeable than she in this arena for years. He was in control. He rolled and pressed her into the cushions. She accepted the change readily, clinging to their kiss.

Hermes deepened it, plundering her mouth, hoping thus to calm the growing need swelling within him. He framed her face and drank deep; she met him, sliding her hands under his black T-shirt, spreading them, sending them over his chest, around his sides and back. His shirt was a small obstacle. Through it, her hands burned.

The final battle was so short, Hermes had lost it before he'd realized-and after that, he wasn't capable of realizing anything beyond the woman beneath him and the raging tide of his need. Her hands, her lips, her body, arching lightly beneath him, urged him on. When he pushed the straps of her gown to the sides, revealing her chest, he didn't care they were outside at 2 am.

Closing one hand around her breast, she only sighed and kissed him more urgently. Under his hand, her breast swelled; between his fingers, her nipple was a tight bud. She gasped when he squeezed, arched when he stroked. And moaned when he kneaded. Her softness filled his hand, filled his senses. Skin like soft silk teased him; the heated weight of her inflamed him. And her.

When he broke their kiss to raise his head and closely inspect the reward he'd won, she watched, eyes glinting from under heavy lids. Watched as his head descended and he took her into his mouth. He suckled, and her eyes closed. The next fractured gasp that filled the air was the first note of a symphony, a symphony he orchestrated. She wanted more, and he gave it, pushing aside the soft silk, drawing down to bare her breasts fully to the softly dim light, the gentle coolness of the air, and his heated attention. Beneath them, she burned, as in his dreams he'd imagined her doing, until she was hot and aching-and frantic for more. And he did dream of touching her since the day he met her.

Her small hands were everywhere, desperately searching, pulling his shirt over his head and greedily reaching, caressing, imploring. That was when he finally realized that control was far beyond him. He didn't have a shred left for she'd stolen it from him and thrown it away. She certainly had none. That was abundantly clear as, panting, her lips gloriously swollen, she drew his face to hers and kissed him voraciously. Half-beneath him, she lifted, her body caressing his, the oldest method of beckoning known to woman. She wanted him and heavens help him, he wanted her.

Now.

His body was rigid with need, tense and heavy with it; he needed to claim her, to slide into her body and find release. He pushed her nightgown up to her stomach, revealing her legs entirely. He couldn't focus enough to form a proper sentence, but he had to try. With a groan, Hermes pulled back from their kiss. On his elbows above her, he waited for her to open her eyes. When her lashes flickered, he drew a huge breath and lost it as her nipples brushed his expanding chest. He shuddered as she shivered, quivers rippling through her stomach to her thighs. His mind immediately focused on the soft haven between her short legs, experience supplying in gratifying detail just what her responses were achieving. He shut his eyes, he tried to shut his mind and simply speak. Instead, her voice reached him, clear, soft, siren-like, a whisper of pure magic in the heavily laden air.

"Show me how much you love me." Entreaty silvered the words. In the same instant, Hermes felt her fingers slide, glide, then gently close around his cock. Her tentative touch had him locking his jaw, locking every muscle against a raging impulse to ravish her. She seemed unaware of it; her gliding caress continued, destroying the last of his will.

"Show me what it means to be claimed by you", she whispered, her breath feathering his cheek. And then she breathed against his lips.

"Give. Me. All. Of. You. Now." That last small word vanquished the last of his resistance, the last remnant of caution, of cool command. Gone was any gentleman, letting the god take over. He understood his brother now, in every way possible - and he couldn't blame him. She was stunningly appealing and her demeanor, no matter how innocent, had alluring - magical way of manipulating a man.

He wanted her with every ounce of his body, every ounce of his blood. And she wanted him. Words were unnecessary. The only thing that still mattered was the manner of their joining. With ultimate victory assured, his demons and anger, those spirits that moved him, drove him were more than ready to lend their talents to achieving glory in the most satisfying way. Not control, but focused frenzy.

Y/N felt it. And gloried in it; in the hardness of the hands that possessed her breasts, in the hardness of his lips as they returned to hers. She clung tight, hands clutching, then pressing into the broad muscles of his back, a moment later sliding around to hungrily explore his chest. She wanted to know it all, now. She couldn't bear to wait, to drag out the frustration.

He was all heat and shockingly hot hardness. She wanted to draw him into her, to take his heat in and quench it, to release the fevered tension driving him, the same tension slowly suffocating her. She wanted to give herself to him. She wanted to take him into her body. She knew it and was long past denial. She knew this wasn't right, but she couldn't stop. So there was nothing to cloud her enjoyment of the moment, of him. She gave herself up gladly to the shiver of excitement.

Sharp delight was what she knew as his hands, hard and knowing, possessed her, tracing every curve, every soft mound. One hand slid beneath her waist, then slid lower to cup her bottom. Strong fingers kneaded, caressed, and warmth spread, pooling in her belly, her very blood. The hand slid lower, tracing the long curve of the back of her thigh all the way to her knee, then slid to the front, reversing direction. To her hip, to that sensitive join where thigh met torso. One finger gently, insistently, stroked downward along the crease and she shuddered, suddenly desperate for breath.

And then he was parting her thighs, gently but firmly spreading them to lavish soothing caresses along the sensitive inner faces. His lips had gentled on hers, allowing her to focus on each touch, each searing response. On the excitement, the frantic, barely reined passion that had both of them in its grip. Then his hand reached the end of his last caress and drifted higher, to stroke what only recently learned how a man's touch feels like. The shudder that racked her was pure excitement distilled in anticipation. Sinking into the soft couch, Y/N gasped and spread her thighs wider and felt the caresses grow firmer, more deliberate. More intimate, more evocative. The soft folds seemed slick; he parted them. Knowing fingers found a point, a nub of flesh, and bolts of delight spread through her.

Pressing her head back, she broke from their kiss. He let her go. He continued to play in the softness between her thighs as Y/N hauled in a too-shallow breath and fought to lift her lids. And once she did, she saw him, his face a mask of concentration etched with passion, watching his fingers as they stroked and twirled. Then one probed. The sound that escaped her was more gasp than moan, more scream than groan. He glanced at her face; his eyes locked on hers. She felt his hand press between her thighs and felt the intrusion of his finger, gently but insistently penetrating. She gasped again, and closed her eyes. He pressed farther, deeper. Then he stroked her inside-deep within, where she was all slick and hot and so full of desire. So full of molten passion. A passion he stirred, deliberately inciting.

On a shuddering moan, Y/N felt herself melt, felt her senses soar. Ethan heard her, felt her surrender and inwardly smiled, a touch grimly. She was trying his demons to the utmost; by now, most women new to the game would have gone over the edge, or, more likely, been so overcome by need that they would be begging him to take them. Not Y/N. She'd let him bare her completely, without any maidenly confusion and she seemed to enjoy writhing naked beneath him as much as he enjoyed having her do so. And now, when even experienced ladies might be expected to break, she was taking all he lavished on her and waiting for more. He gave her more, learning her intimately, filling his male senses with her feminine secrets. Slowly, he drove her upward, turning the wheel of the rack of excitement with practiced ease. Still, she didn't break.

She gasped, moaned, and arched and her eager body begged for more. Her needs were not those of the women he was accustomed to; as he took her further still. She was not, he realized, the innocent he had labeled her. Strictly speaking, she didn't, in fact, have very much of that commodity. She knew enough to know what they were doing, and to have made her decision.

Her character and its consequences. She was straightforward, assured, decided to taking what experiences life had to offer. To picking and choosing among the fruits of life's tree. And she'd chosen. Deliberately. This and him. That was what was different. For the first time, he felt chosen and he felt like he belonged.

Hermes looked at her, at her face lightly flushed with desire, at her eyes, glinting still from beneath heavy lids. And he couldn't breathe. From sheer lust, from sheer need. The need to be inside her. The need to claim her as his. With a soft oath, he drew his hands from her and shrugged himself free of his bottoms. She was simmering. Her breasts rose and fell rapidly; her skin was gently flushed. Naked, fully aroused, he saw her watch him. Not a single hint of shock showed in her face, even when he flaunted his large member. Her gaze slid down, over him, then slowly rose to his face. She lifted her arms. To him.

Hermes covered her body with his, took her lips in a searing kiss and eased himself into her. Condoms were the last thing on his mind, but they were still at the back of it.

"Condoms." He breaths out as she shakes her head.

"I want to feel you." She was hot and tight; she tensed as he tested how far she can stretch to take him. And cried out as, with one well-judged thrust, he breached her entirely. He held still, for one long, achingly tense moment, then she eased about him. Instinct claimed him as he thrust powerfully, deep into her body and claimed her.

Every sensation felt new, battering in on her mind, her overloaded senses, yet she clung to each thrill, each new intimacy, determined to miss nothing, determined to feel all. To know the sheer delight of his hard body heavy on hers, his chest hard, rasping against her sensitive nipples and the soft swells of her breasts. The glory in the hardness that filled her, the warm cock that pressed deep into her, stretching her, claiming her. To experience, with every gasp, with every desperate pant, the power with which he repeatedly drove into her, the flexing of his spine, the rhythmic fusing of their bodies. To sense her vulnerability, in her nakedness, in the weight that anchored her hips, in the blind wanting that drove her. To revel in the excitement, shamelessly hot, unquenchable passion that swelled, grew, built, then flooded them, a raging tide avidly seizing them. And to feel, deep within her, the unraveling of an anchoring force, more powerful than desire, more deep, more enduring, than anything on earth. That force, caught her and it caught him - the love no one could deny.

She gave herself up to it and bravely, eagerly, knowingly claimed it for her own. Ecstasy filled her - eagerly, she shared it, through her lips and their hungry kisses, through the worship of her hands, her limbs, her body. He did the same; she tasted it on his tongue, felt its heat in his body. Whatever he needed she gave, whatever she craved, he delivered. Mouth to mouth, breasts to chest, urgent softness gripping his hardness. On a groan, Hermes straightened his arms, and managed to find support enough on the couch to lift from her.

He drove himself into her, savoring every hot inch that closed about him, pausing for an instant to feel her throb around him, before withdrawing, only to thrust deeply again. And again. She writhed, heated and urgent beneath him. He'd never seen anything so beautiful as her, locked in passion's snare. She lifted and twisted, her head turning blindly from side to side as, inside, she sought release. He sank deep and pushed her higher, but still she held herself back from the edge, enduring the painful need for release. So did he.

And he wanted to watch her, so splendidly his, so gloriously abandoned of her usual timid smiles and pleasantries as she took him in and held him, as she gave herself to him for the first time. The sight stole his breath and more. He would have her again, many times, but none would be the same as this, as filled with emotion as this moment was.

He knew when the end was upon her, felt the keen edge of tension ready to explode and felt her walls closing in.

He drove into her, and let go, let his body do what came naturally and sent them both over the edge. And, at the last, he watched as the explosion of sensations took her. Gritting his teeth, he hung on for the last second, and saw her ease. Saw the lines of her face, drawn tight with passion, soften; felt, deep inside her, the strong ripples of her release. On a silent sigh, her body softened beneath him. The expression that washed over her face was that of an angel in the presence of the divine.

Hermes felt the shudders rack him. Closing his eyes, he let them, let her take him. He twitched inside her, thrusting once more as he pushed to the hilt, coming deep inside her with a low growl he hid once his lips dipped into the crook of her neck. It had been much more than he'd expected. It consumed every part of him, nothing left inside that didn't belong to her. He was hers, no denying it.

Breathing heavily, Hermes lifts his head and lazily smiles down at her, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips before moving to stand. Instantly, her fingers wrap around his wrist as her eyebrows furrow.

"Trust me." He spoke gruffly, giving her the blanket to cover herself as he disappeared inside the house.

Y/N trembled at the sudden cold, already missing his body on hers. He brought such fire, a flame to her insides that could only ever compare to the fire Apollo evoked. But it wasn't the same. Apollo liked to take everything painfully slow, drive a woman mad with desire before quenching the thirst. Hermes builds the fire big and wild from start to finish, unapologetically creating an adventure of sorts. End result remains the same - bliss and confusion with a bit of guilt and a lot of morally questionable choices.

Pushing her nightgown straps up, she doesn't have a long time to think about it as Ethan walks out with a towel in his hand, sauntering toward her with a charming smile.

Gently, he taps her knees before leaning in to press a kiss on her forehead. His hands part her knees slowly, each to a side until she is exposed before him, all of his cum mixed with her own juices before him. Kissing the inside of her thighs, each twice, he used the warm towel to wipe her and clean the mess they created.

She watched him carefully, shuddering each time he comes close to her clit, her breath coming in ragged, short and labored.

Tossing it aside, he pulls her nightgown down, dressing himself as well before lifting her and placing her in his lap. Wrapping a blanket around them, he let the moment finally catch up with him. In all the time he's spent on Earth, he had never been as happy as he is now.

"How was it?" She breaks the silence, bringing Ethan back to reality, the same one where he could smell his cologne on her skin.

"Hm?" He mumbled, confused and out of it all. His mind was far away, too busy in a fantasy where he was the final choice.

"Being a god? In Mount Olympus?" She clarified, hearing his long sigh as a first response.

"Exclusive. Grandiose. Exquisite. Lonely. A little scary but also annoying. There were so many of us back then, rules being what we made them. We were worshiped, feared, admired. It felt...powerful. And it got to me...and Apollo. And it was virtually a paradise. But after that." Pausing, Hermes draws in a shaky breath as if the memories weigh heavily on his conscious.

"It was countless schemes to get back home, to find a loophole. We've done some horrible things. Unforgivable things. I don't think we ever learned. But we did find out what's love. With you." Tilting her head, Y/N looked up at him with teary eyes and a quiver of her chin.

"Have you never loved before?"

"There was one. She was someone who meant a great deal to me, but I didn't love her. Once you look at it closely, it was still for my own gain. She was there today. The girl with the blade. Yashi. They were all there - the descendants we've hurt." Ethan explained, licking his lips as he felt her heart speed up.

"But I know what love is. Thanks to you. I know it's more about wanting to give up on my own selfish goals to keep you happy and safe. It's about wanting to be there when you need me, no matter what. To hold you like this." He leans in, the tip of his nose brushing her cheek as she smiles widely, shyly hiding her face in the blanket.

"Awee. Don't go shy on me now. Not after what we just did." He chuckled into her neck, kissing it lightly as the sky started to clear and daylight break.

Just on time, Grayson opened the door in slight panic, only to relax visibly once his eyes took in her face...but then he noticed their disheveled hair and goofy smiles and he knew. He just knew she wasn't just his anymore and although he wanted to RIP his brother to pieces for even touching her, he couldn't make her unhappy by harming Hermes in any way. He promised himself to respect her choice, no matter what it is even though he didn't really want her to choose him anymore. He would settle for being the second best if that meant he got to hold her hand just a little longer. He didn't care if he never saw home again if he got a chance to grow old with her, start a family and make their own home. Nothing really compared to what he wished to create for her. With her.

"So, I guess it's time then." He spoke up, startling the couple into a standstill as he came closer and noticed the towel thrown to the side.

Biting his tongue, ignoring the sting in his heart, he cleared his throat.

"You should make the choice. I'm sure my brother agrees that the whole sharing is caring thing isn't working for us. It's dawn and it's time for one of us to truly have a chance to be with you." Stopping himself, Apollo glances over his shoulder to catch the first ray of sun.

"Once it happens, if I am the one chosen, remember you can always see me in the first light of dawn. I'll be there, watching over you, sending you a way out the darkness." Apollo offers her his hand to take, seeing her shake her head and her eyes fill with tears as she glides her hand in his.

"But if it's me you choose, you will always see me when the last light is at its end, offering you the comfort only night brings where you can be who you are in the dark and no one but me sees." Kissing her cheek once more, Hermes helps her stand as well, slipping his own in the free one.

"I don't wanna choose. Please don't make me." Y/N croaks, tears moments from flooding because she knows how this ends. She always did. There are two paths. The right and the left. Both look the same. But the outcome is different. Choices cannot be undone. Once chosen, can never be chosen again. The road is broken. It cannot be walked again. Once the road has been trodden, it shall disappear. You can pick one, but you cannot pick both.

"Please. I love you both, I can't choose." Her voice breaks, her eyes closing as they both whisper a faint "I love you" before saying a spell in Greek.

"Zeus, I have sinned. I have done my penance, the pure heart of Hecate's descent stands witness to the change in my own. Please accept this prayer and return the chosen one home." ("Ο Δίας, έχω αμαρτήσει, έκανα την έκκλησή μου, η καθαρή καρδιά της καταγωγής της Εκάτης είναι μάρτυρας της αλλαγής της δικής μου, παρακαλώ δεχτείτε αυτήν την προσευχή και επιστρέψτε την επιλεγμένη κατοικία".)

Her eyes are closed as she feels her chest shake under the immense pressure of the reality she'll have to face, her choice made for her even when she wished for just one more day. She had questions, dreams, plans to make thing work. But she had to make a choice that was not hers at all, saying a weak goodbye for the last time.

She feels it before she sees it, knowing the chosen one before opening her eyes.

In that moment while her eyes are closed and the ignorance is bliss, she feels her heart swell impossibly, growing as it threatens to burst and her tears are already running down her cheeks, dripping from her chin.

But they taught her to be brave and confident, to be more than she thought she could be. So she opens her eyes to face the truth just as the first day of sunlight hits her face, finding she had been left completely and utterly alone. Her hands are shaking cold, void of touch, proving she meant what she said.

She couldn't choose, because she loved them both just the same and now they've gone and left her alone in this world.

     ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~       ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~       ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~       ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Tags: @mutuallynotmutual @lanadeldolans @xalayx @accalialionheart @gia-kerks @historyheart  @heyits-claire @daddygraysonsbitch  @fallinginlove-16  @lanadeldolans @beautifulfound @thearachna-kid  @dinnerwiththedolans  @graydolan12 @justanotherfangurl272 @dxlansfxck  @godlydolans @flowery-dolan @dominatedolans @buckysjuicyplums @ethanhes @dolandolll @dolanstwintuesday

[creation-is-chaos]

Death of the Red Queen | Royal AU | Drabble

Intensity is a sin. Rolling in thunderous temper the tempest within his forgotten love is bitter on his tongue. There is nothing to prevent his need to rectify his demons. They fester. Swarming and worming their way inside of an already embittered head, King Corvus sits on a lone throne. Marble cast in onyx, gleaming ruby but the perch is stone cold. There is nothing comfortable in his posture or position. His eyes bear the onslaught of deafened emotion.

He hardly held any before. By chance his chosen called at the most unexpected time. Betrothed to the bloody king. Hair a raven’s feather, silky in his fingers and a blanket tousled upon his pillows. 

The bed became a haven of soft flesh. Curves aplenty possessed its soft sheets. Naked and writhing to a tune of blood lust between them. Bloody King. Bloody Queen. 

Red drenched the sheets soon after. Nine months after. Ebbing on a tide of crimson flow it ended. 

Corvus expected strength. He did not expect weakness to curse his betrothed. One chosen due to fire. There was fire in veins sizzling upon contact of tongues in heated kisses. Etiquette tossed aside and burned between two who ruled with mighty fear. 

Oh but heads rolling did not sway his betrothed away. Eyes dazzled in brown each time he did something  monstrous, for he was not monster in that gaze. Yet the product of a sinful, terrifying union ripped through, gushing in blood and tearing life away. 

The babe was healthy. He saw upon entering the room. How pale the queen had been. Life gone. They already knew. When the King saw it true they tore him back. 

“Give her to me!” 

Threatening a newborn seemed child’s play to what he has done to others. Villages burn. Kingdoms raze. Families perish. All in the footsteps of a tyrannical king, Corvus killed them all. What is his call for new life of any difference? He wanted her blood. 

“Give me the child! I want it! I will squeeze it! Strangle it!” 

Corvus’ own guards held him at bay. Once upon a time it was their choice to not allow their king what he wanted. Death comes in all shapes, sizes and decrees. Acting out filicide would have been the most horrifying of crimes to commit. 

Even now he still wants to snuff that life. He watches the one who murdered. The one who snuffed the fire of the Red Queen. No longer scarlet satin trains, raven strands but pale decayed flesh. No, not decayed. Preserved. Kept. Hidden away without change as he does not change. 

The bloody king never changes. In his blood lust, his madness or his appearance. Immortality comes with a steep price. Even kings must pay up. 

[kpopaeipathy]

When the Curtain Falls (BTS Oneshot)

Pairing: No Romantic Pairings

Genre: Angst (NC-17)

Summary: Taehyung is a non-professional tagger. His stepfather, who is a police officer, uses that to incriminate him for burglary and send him to a reformatory where he meets the other members of BTS. The boys leave the reformatory one by one before Taehyung, who only leaves when he’s about to turn 18. Upon returning home, he finds his stepfather beating his mother and reacts violently. This makes the stepfather even more furious with Taehyung, who runs away and gathers with his friends (BTS members) to get around the situation. While the stepfather incriminates Taehyung his violent act, the boys seek evidence to clear Taehyung and perhaps save his mother.

Word Count: 26k

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, underage, hyyh typical violence, implied/referenced child abuse, youth violence, physical fighting, domestic violence, blood, framing.

Playlist

A/N:  This is for @hyyhbigbang and it is co-written with @dihcorrea. We're sorry that the end is kind of fast but we were struggling to get it done in time, or else it'd be a giant story. We hope you like it. Moodboards and playlist were created by the amazing @hungline (We loved them all, thank you so much <3). Crossposted on AO3.

----

"Won’t it be weird to be out there again?" Yoongi asked. Unlike the others, he was the only one staring at the door where Seokjin and Hoseok would be leaving soon.

"Probably," replied Seokjin, smiling at how his friend was trying to conceal how worried he was about saying farewell. Of all the friends he made at the reform school, Yoongi had been the first and the most different from him. It was still hard for Seokjin to believe that they had become great friends simply because they shared a room and respected each other's space. "But I’ll manage it," he finished, finally attracting Yoongi's gaze.

If there was something that Yoongi knew all too well, it was Seokjin’s adaptive nature of Seokjin. The older boy knew full well how to use his beauty and charm to make things easier for him. Everyone knew that it was that "skill" that had put him in the reform school, but Seokjin had never seen it as a bad thing; it was simply the way he had found to live the life he’d had before entering the reformatory. Even then, inside the facility, his ability had helped everyone he had become friends with. Mainly Hoseok, since it was Seokjin’s charm and Namjoon’s intelligence that revealed the true culprit of the crime for which he was incriminated for.

"I can’t believe I'm not gonna see you again," Jungkook complained. The troublemaker was the youngest in the group and was practically adopted as their mascot, but he liked to treat others as if they were the same age as him.

"I wouldn’t worry about that," Seokjin replied. "We’re not the best influence for a kid like you."

"I'm not a kid," Jungkook complained, slapping the older boy's hand just as he was about to mess up his hair.

"Actually," Hoseok interrupted, holding Jungkook by the neck to mess his hair too, "I think the kid’s right. Why don’t we try to keep in touch after we get out of here?"

It was not exactly a bad idea. After all, everyone had entered the reform school so young, and for some reason everyone had become good friends, perhaps even best friends. For some of them, those boys were the only true friends they ever had in their lives. Keeping in touch after they separated seemed to be worth it. Besides, some of them were so troublesome that they might need help even outside the reform school.

It was what Yoongi thought as he looked back at the exit door. But this time he was not the only one who looked at that door with concern. Taehyung was also afraid to get out of there and go back to his own house. As bad as the reformatory was, he had found good people there--people who counseled and helped him. Outside, he had practically only seen violence and pain.

"Whatever," Seokjin shrugged, grabbing a business card inside the backpack he was taking with him out of the reform school and placing it in the Taehyung’s hand, startling him. "This is the gas station telephone next to my house. Just call and ask for me. They'll find me."

Seokjin's complacent smile and the fact that he had put the paper in Taehyung's hand made the younger boy uncomfortable. Everyone there knew, including him, that he would be the most likely to seek help from others, but Taehyung did not like to think he would be weak again. If he were to meet his friends again, it would not be out of fear, but for nostalgia.

"Since I have no pen here," Hoseok said, "Someone's gonna have to remember my address."

Automatically, everyone looked at Namjoon, who simply raised his eyebrows and complained, "The fact that I'm good with computers doesn’t mean I have the best memory."

Regardless of what his friend had just said, Hoseok spoke his address aloud for all of them to hear. If Namjoon did not remember everything, surely the others would be able to help. When he turned back to the hacker again, however, Namjoon simply nodded, proving that everyone was right to think he would be able to remember the address without difficulty.

Hoseok simply smiled. Namjoon was very intelligent, but extremely modest. Hoseok did not care about it, since he only cared about the health and freedom of his friends. He had been unjustly imprisoned as well as half of the others, but it was Namjoon who had helped him find his own freedom, so Hoseok would do anything to help the others too, regardless of the crime they had committed or not.

"I wanted to know if they're going to be sad when I leave," Jimin commented, tapping Jungkook's arm, who seemed to be on the verge of tears. Jungkook sniffled, still trying to appear tough in front of his hyungs even with snot dripping down his nose. The younger could be brave and quarrelsome, but he was very emotional.

"I'm leaving first, so they’re gonna miss me more," Yoongi commented.

Snorting, Jimin shrugged but said nothing else. He also did not like goodbyes and would miss all the friends he had made in that place.

"Time to go!"

They looked at the guard who waited for Seokjin and Hoseok with the gate open. After a year forming a bond that seemed too strong to be broken, it was finally time for them to separate.

Everyone was sad to see the two friends leave, but that was only the first of the farewells. Three months later, Yoongi would be holding his own bundle of clothes, ready to leave the place that had kept him safe for a few years.

Again, he stared at the gate while the others complained and talked about how they would miss him. Yoongi was not afraid of leaving, or at least that was what he had thought during the three months between Seokjin’s and Hoseok’s departure and his own. He was not afraid of the world outside the reformatory. In fact, he was afraid of what he would do while he was out loose in the world. He had already erred once, even if unintentionally, so what would keep him from making a mistake again?

"You don’t have to worry," Jungkook's voice made the older man turn to him. "When you think of strange things, just remember what I told ya."

Yoongi smiled as soon as Jungkook finished speaking, which elicited an even bigger smile on the young man's face. Jungkook, when he was welcomed by the group, felt that he had a new family, so he did not regard others simply as his friends, he considered them all as older brothers. They were the ones who had helped him overcome his anger and feel free even though he had been locked away. So whenever he had the opportunity, he also tried to help the others.

The advice he'd given Yoongi was more of a reminder than advice. When he discovered that Yoongi was a pyromaniac, Jungkook tried to think of the best way to prevent his friend from becoming fascinated with the fire again. "Fire, in any situation, is like me when I’m angry. It’ll only destroy everything in its path," he had said, making Yoongi smile whenever he was reminded of his fascination and of Jungkook.

"I'll never forget," Yoongi assured the younger. Then he handed his phone number to Jungkook and said that he and the others could meet him at the shelter. That was the best he could do to keep in touch.

Again, the farewell was sad, but it was not the last. Another three months and Jimin was prepared to return to the world outside the reform school. This time, Jungkook could not hold back the tears.

"Hey, boy," Jimin called to him and wrapped his arms around the younger man's shoulders, "We’ll see each other again, so why’re you crying?"

That made the youngest cry harder. Jimin smiled. He knew the exact reason for Jungkook's tears. It had been Jimin who had supported him and had taught him to control his anger. It had been Jimin who had made him use his knowledge of muay thai for good. Jimin was also afraid to leave the young man alone, but he knew that Jungkook was strong and could move on.

"You'd better give your phone number or address to this boy soon, before he leaves your shirt drenched with so many tears," Taehyung grumbled.

He did not want to get rid of Jimin, but he was also curious to know where the one who looked like a playboy lived. Besides, he did not like to see Jungkook crying. If the strongest of them, despite being the youngest, was able to cry so easily, how would he endure it when it was his turn to return to the real world?

Taehyung still stared nervously at the gate every time his friends left. But he had not yet decided whether he was afraid of what would happen outside or whether he was afraid of what would not happen. Thinking that he would never find the only friends he had ever done in his life was difficult.

"Tae is right," Namjoon agreed, "You better show him right away that you'll see each other again."

Jimin continued to smile and did as he was told. The address of one of the city's most expensive condominiums was put into Jungkook's hands, but the younger one soon lost the paper to Taehyung, who was afraid he would eventually wet it with his tears.

Each time it seemed worse to see the friends going away, especially to Jungkook and Taehyung who were always left behind. When Namjoon was leaving six months later, the two young men seemed to be losing the last healthy limb of their bodies. Namjoon had never seen the two of them with a more sad countenance, though they were holding back the tears very well.

"It looks like someone's dead," Namjoon commented, trying to make a joke, but could not get a smile from either of them. "Hey, I'm just leaving you guys alone for a few months. Why are you like this? It's not like you’ll be alone. You still have each other."

That made Jungkook smile slightly. It was good not to be completely alone in that place. Ever since he had appeared there with a black eye and a great deal of anger to overflow, he had been welcomed by the group, which was not yet fully formed. Although he was the most competent in fighting, the elders always protected him against the other children in the reform school and against himself. Always being with them was a relief.

"I don’t know if this is a good thing," Taehyung grumbled, catching the attention of the two friends. "He's just gonna have me to hit now."

Namjoon laughed, but Jungkook felt a little offended.

"Like I hit you often," he muttered between his teeth.

Namjoon laughed even harder. Of course, Jungkook did not beat them up with anger or quarrel with any of them, but the boy was crude by nature and even his displays of affection could hurt sometimes. Even so, everyone was so fond of the youngest that all the generous "pat" pardoned.

"Just try not to leave him with any bruises," Namjoon managed to say between the laughter.

As it was very rare to see the older man laughing like that, Jungkook ended up joking. He slipped an arm around Taehyung's neck and pulled him against his chest, giving his friend a light chokehold.

"I can’t promise anything," he asserted as Taehyung tapped his arm and tried to break free.

And it was in that spirit that the two young men endured the last two years of their sentences in that place. One protected the other, one taught the other, one confided to the other. At the end of their stay, Jungkook and Taehyung felt that they knew everything about each other. In addition, they set out to record the information on how they could find their friends and promised to continue talking when they were outside. Even if they could not talk to the others, they would not miss each other.

The day they left the reform school, they stood for a long time in front of the gate. Jungkook was not worried because he was sure everything would work out. He was being incredibly optimistic, especially after all he'd learned from friends in the reform school.

Taehyung, on the other hand, was still afraid to take a step forward. He knew he would keep the promise made to his friend to find him and the others. As for the rest, he was not sure of anything.

"Hey, are you okay?" Jungkook asked, seeing Taehyung's worried face.

Shaking his head to get away from the bad thoughts that were beginning to invade his mind, Taehyung smiled at Jungkook and stated that everything was fine.

"Do you wanna go home with me and wait for the best time to come to your house?" Jungkook continued, still surprised by Taehyung's reaction to the exit from the reform school.

Shrugging, Taehyung replied, "I don’t think there's gonna be a better time than this. He must be at work and my mother must be alone at home. I think if I get there now, she'll think of a way to tell him that I came back."

Although Taehyung finally seemed optimistic, Jungkook felt apprehensive. Taehyung was now of age and any quarrel with his stepfather could lead him to jail rather than to reform.

"Well, if you need anything, you can call me," Jungkook said when he heard the horn of his mother's car for the second time. "I gotta go."

"Don’t worry, I’ll be okay," Taehyung smiled as he shook hands with his friend and told him to go his way.

He could not deny that he was a little jealous of seeing Jungkook's mother picking him up from the reform school. He knew that his friend was a minor and needed a responsible person to get him, and that he was already of age and did not need this kind of authorization, but still, he wished his mother had come to see him.

Did she remember that he was leaving that day? Was she all right? Was she still thinking about him? Was she still alive?

All those questions passing through his head made Taehyung swallow hard. There was only one way to know the answer to all that. He only prayed that he would find her alone at home so she could respond.

Taking a deep breath, he went his own way, forgetting his friends as he thought of everything he might end up finding when he got to the apartment where his mother and stepfather lived.

Could he stay there? Would his stepfather let him stay? Would he willingly accept him or would he be drunk and aggressive as he usually was? And if he could not stay, how could he find another place? Where could he get a job? Where were he going to sleep?

All the friends he had made in the reform school offered him their own houses to stay in, but Taehyung knew that half of them could not help him because they still lived with their parents, and the other half was probably as stressed with money as he could get.

It seemed that all the worries he had left aside while he was with friends in the reform school bombed his head as soon as he set foot outside the facility. When he stopped in front of the door of his stepfather's apartment, he was already having a headache and biting his lips with concern.

He took a deep breath and held the doorknob, making sure the door was not locked. He planted a smile on his face, knowing that his mother would like to see him cheerfully, and opened the door to the scene he hated most in the world.

His stepfather's hand cut the air like a sharp blade and struck the left side of Taehyung's mother's face. The force of the blow was so great that the woman went off balance, tripping over her own feet and falling to the floor on one arm while using the other to shield her face in a reflex.

What happened next didn’t last more than a minute.

Taehyung saw his mother's face turn red, contrasting with other old, dark bruises on her neck and arms. Taehyung's own vision reddened with fury and he took a deep breath as he looked around the room.

Beside the door, above the shoe rack, which contained his stepfather's many shoes compared to a single pair of his mother's high heels, there were three empty beer bottles. Without thinking twice, Taehyung took one of them and advanced into the room, toward his stepfather who still ignored his presence and was now kicking his mother's ribs.

With a movement practically reflecting the stepfather's first blow, Taehyung cut the air with the bottle and struck it at the top of the stepfather's head.

Taken by surprise, the man took a second to realize the seriousness of the blow, and his own brain had a slight delay in switching adrenaline for pain, making the man slightly dizzy and disoriented.

When he noticed that his stepfather turned away from his mother, Taehyung, still blinded with anger, reflected another blow from the aggressor and hit his stepfather's belly with what was left of the bottle in his hand. With that blow, the man was completely disarmed and looked deeply into Taehyung's eyes as he swallowed and held both hands to Taehyung's hand that still held the shard of the glass bottle against his body.

Taehyung was also looking into his stepfather's eyes, which were no longer higher than his own since they were now about the same height, and could not help notice when they suddenly clouded. Blinking, Taehyung seemed to regain consciousness. His eyes widened and he tried to drop the shard of the bottle, but the hands around his prevented it.

As he looked down, he came across the blood. Blinking rapidly a few times, Taehyung's lips began to tremble, as well as his hands, when he used his free hand to remove his stepfather's hands from over his.

Once free, Taehyung stepped back, staring in amazement at his red-stained hands.

He then heard a groan of pain ahead of him, and glanced at his stepfather in time to see him try to step back and trip over his own foot, falling to the glass coffee table and splintering it beneath himself.

Taehyung was still struggling with his own conscience to help or not the fallen man in front of him when he heard his mother's battered voice utter his name behind him.

Turning quickly, Taehyung ran to his mother to help her up.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, her nervous eyes searching her son's face for any injuries. That usual gesture of fear and worry hurt Taehyung far more than the fact that his mother had forgotten that he would leave the reformatory that day.

"Mom…"

He didn't have time to clear the lump that was formed in his throat to finish the sentence, as his mother looked behind Taehyung and saw her husband lying on the broken glass of the coffee table, blood staining the police uniform that he wore.

“What happened?” She looked back at Taehyung, who began to shiver again as tears welled up in his brown eyes.

The anguish and fear he saw reflected in his mother's widening eyes only served to make him tremble even more as he looked back at his bloodied hands.

"You have to get out of here," his mother insisted, pushing him toward the door, "Go!"

He tried to refute and stuck his feet on the floor so she wouldn't get him out of the apartment, but his respect and love for his mother prevented him from using any kind of force against her. Although feeling a coward, Taehyung let his mother put him out. Once the door closed between them, tears finally trickled down Taehyung's cheeks and trembling lips.

Then, he ran.

***

Jungkook's parents were more disappointed than sad when their son was arrested for assault. They hoped that Taekwondo would relieve Jungkook's explosive genius rather than burn it down, and when the latter happened, they only asked the divine that the punishment Jungkook would receive was enough to do what taekwondo couldn’t do for the boy.

Since they hoped that their prayers would be answered, Jungkook's parents prepared a welcome party at their home. This was a party Jungkook had not expected and could not enjoy, for his mind was still caught in the expression of doubt on Taehyung's face as they left the reform school.

As much as he wanted to feel good about being free and to have fun listening to his old friends tell him about what happened to them while he was in the reform school, Jungkook was easily distracted by the feeling that something bad would happen to Taehyung.

When his cell phone rang, Jungkook answered hurriedly, and when he heard Taehyung's breath and choppy voice on the other end of the line, he was sure his intuition was right.

"Hyung, what's up?" Jungkook asked worriedly. The sense of foreboding escalates as the hesitation from Taehyung's end worries Jungkook even more. If Taehyung asked, he is sure that he would drop everything to help his friend.

"I just wanted to know if everything was alright out there," Taehyung said. “Was everyone happy with your return?”

As much as he wanted to believe his friend, Jungkook knew something was wrong. Of course, they had promised to keep in touch, but neither of them believed they would talk anytime soon, especially if it was just to ask if all was well.

“Are you sure that's all? It sounds like you’re running,” Jungkook asked and heard another pause in the older boy's response.

"I'm fine," he replied, "Mom asked me to go buy something to celebrate my return, so I'm running."

It wasn’t just the breathless running that was upsetting Jungkook, but also his friend's lies; Jungkook could practically hear the lump in Taehyung's throat and hear the tears fighting to leave his eyes.

"Hyung, please," he insisted, "Tell me what's going on."

One more pause, “It’s nothing, I promise. I'll call you later.”

With that, Taehyung ended the call.

Jungkook didn't know what to do. He knew something was wrong and that Taehyung had just lied to him, but he could do nothing but call his friend and try to find out what was going on, or at least find out where Taehyung was running to. However, he did not believe Taehyung would say even if he insisted.

Because he couldn't rush out of the house and roam the streets looking for Taehyung, Jungkook decided it was best to talk to someone who could make Taehyung talk. Jungkook searched for the new numbers he had saved on his cell phone as soon as he got it back from the reform school, and as soon as he found Seokjin's number, he called his friend.

As Seokjin had explained to them upon being released, the gas station attendant answered the phone. Quickly, Jungkook asked for his older friend and the attendant promptly replied that he would talk to Seokjin to return the call.

Without really having anything to do, Jungkook hung up and waited for Seokjin's call while pretending to be interested in the party his parents had prepared for him. It wasn't that he didn't want to have fun with family or old friends, but one of his new - and more troublesome - friends was in trouble and he would rather help him than stay there pretending like nothing was happening.

So, just to do something, Jungkook tried another of the new numbers on his cell phone and called Yoongi. Unfortunately, his friend was also absent. The shelter girl who answered informed him that Yoongi was out working and would not be back until later, but she would deliver the message and Yoongi could return his call. Jungkook gave his cell number to the shelter girl and hung up.

Jungkook would wait. He would tell his friends everything as soon as they return his calls, but he needed to find someone who could act faster. Much faster. So he looked again at the new saved phones and called Namjoon, which would be his last hope. If his friend did not answer and none of them return his call within half an hour, he would change tactics and go to Hoseok’s or Jimin's house for his friends to help him.

***

The “No Unauthorized Entry” warning was not enough to stop Taehyung from breaking into the abandoned building, let alone the lock that secured the gate grilles. Since the chain was wide, the opening Taehyung got by pulling one side of the gate was enough for him to pass through. At that moment, he didn't care about the illegality of his act; he just wanted to hide for a moment.

After being thrown out of the apartment by his mother and making the unexplained call to Jungkook, Taehyung still ran a couple of blocks until he found the abandoned building.

He wasn't thinking straight when he called Jungkook. Luckily he managed to hold back and not ruin the big reception that was going on at Jungkook's house.

When he saw the abandoned building, Taehyung didn’t think either. He had nowhere to go, so that building seemed like a good place to hide from what he had just done. However, Taehyung had sat down to collect his thoughts for only a minute when he realized that he had been foolish to think that he would forget his sins.

His hands were still bloody and it made him despair again. He started rubbing his hands together, but he realized his clothes were also stained with blood. Fortunately, he had not found anyone on the way from his house to the abandoned building, so no one had noticed that he was so bloody.

Taehyung continued rubbing his hands and clothes, trying to remove the blood that kept him from forgetting that he might have killed his stepfather - and even if he had not, he had certainly hurt him badly. Regardless of whether he did that to protect his mother, it didn't change the fact that he'd attacked someone. Nothing would change the fact that he, for a moment of fury and insanity, had become what he hated most: a violent person.

It was only when his cell phone rang, echoing on the unfinished walls of the empty building, that Taehyung stopped trying to wipe off his stepfather's blood.

He glanced at the display to see who was calling, but he couldn't see anything because his eyes were already watering. He answered anyway, thinking it might be his mother or Jungkook. He needed to tell everyone that he was fine.

The voice he heard on the other end, however, had nothing to do with his mother's delicate, feminine voice or Jungkook's soft, husky voice.

"Taehyung, where are you?"

That call was the last straw for Taehyung. Tears streamed down his cheeks again, and even if he tried to control his sobs, he knew that the moment he answered he couldn't hide anything from the person on the other side.

"Hyung," Taehyung said, his naturally strong voice was weak and even he could hear the lump in his throat, "I miss you."

After that sentence, Taehyung said nothing more. He simply cried. It was as if each tear fell for a different reason. He cried because he really missed the only friends he made in his life; he cried because he wanted to be with his mother, because he wanted her to be safe, because he wanted not to attack his stepfather, and because he didn't really regret it - his mother's security was much more important.

Taehyung cried for a long time and his friend on the phone said nothing, just listened to him cry until the sobs stopped and Taehyung's breathing settled. He still gave Taehyung time to calm down, and only then did he repeat the question with which he initiated the call.

"I'm in an abandoned building three blocks from my house," Taehyung replied, rubbing his face to wipe away the remaining tears on his skin.

After giving his stepfather's apartment's address to his friend, Taehyung hung up the phone with the promise that he wouldn't leave until his friends showed up to see him. Since he had nowhere to go, Taehyung didn't find it difficult to make that promise, much less keep it. But it wasn't until the next morning that Taehyung had other news from his friends.

It was the noise of the gate chain that woke him up, and for a moment Taehyung thought that the contractors had decided to resume construction right now that he needed the empty building. That’s just my luck, he thought. But when he heard the voices of the people coming in and apparently teasing each other, Taehyung let out a breath he didn't even notice he was holding, and his muscles immediately relaxed.

"Taehyung, where are you?" Seokjin's baritone voice reverberated on the walls, and Taehyung smiled.

Watching his friends together again reminded Taehyung of the year they spent together in the reform school strengthening that bond of friendship, and he almost forgot why everyone was there. However, it would be impossible to forget what had happened the day before, at least for a long time.

As soon as they saw him, Taehyung's friends reacted differently; trying not to freak Taehyung out, they controlled their surprise and worry, but Taehyung could see one thing was shared in all expressions: empathy. With a weak smile, Taehyung tried to hide his own feelings. It was that empathy he was afraid of; it was because of that empathy that he was reluctant to contact his friends after what he did.

Jimin sat on the floor next to Taehyung, though "throwing himself at Taehyung’s side" was a more appropriate expression. Though he was unable to smile from his swirling thoughts and feelings, Taehyung struggled to show his friend a funny expression.

"Here," said Seokjin, coming closer and extending something wrapped in paper towards him. "I thought you might be hungry."

Taehyung curiously opened the package and found some muffins and stuffed breads. Jungkook approached and sat on the other side of his friend, knowing that Jimin would not walk away. In a natural, almost unconscious gesture, Taehyung held out a muffin to the younger, like he always did in the reform school.

One by one, everyone set on the dirty floor.

"How are you doing?" Yoongi asked, leaning forward.

Taehyung looked up from the muffin he was eating, his mouth full and cheeks prominent as he chewed. Taehyung’s brown eyes were as confused as those of a child hearing the signal indicating the end of recess.

"Did you get hurt?" Yoongi asked again and this time pointed to Taehyung's bloodstained clothes. The younger one blinked twice before responding with a forlorn nod. Of course, his friends would worry that he was injured, and Yoongi wouldn't simply ask if he was fine soon after seeing him bloody waking up in an abandoned building. It was obvious that something was wrong, but the second oldest in the group seemed to be content with the silent answer.

"We won’t ask what happened," Hoseok comforted, "You don't have to tell us if you don't want to."

"You can tell us when you feel ready," Jimin said, but corrected himself as Taehyung's eyes shifted from Hoseok to him, "I mean, if you feel ready." He emphasized the word "if.”

"Or we can just set fire to the house of the people who did this to you," Yoongi commented, shrugging as if that were a normal suggestion. But it was the scolding look of the other boys that made Yoongi tell Taehyung to forget what he had just said.

If his stepfather's apartment were not the same as his mother's, perhaps Taehyung might even have considered that idea, but thinking that it might come out worse than the attack on his stepfather, he preferred to be quiet and let his friends refute Yoongi's idea.

"I..." Taehyung looked at all the faces around him. No one had expected him to talk so fast, not even him. But as soon as the first word came out of his mouth in a deep, husky voice, a flurry of words ensued. It wasn't like the night before when tears created a lump in his throat and he could do nothing but cry. No – this time, the words seemed to have a life of their own and came out without him having to think about them.

Taehyung told them how he got home and how much he wanted to meet his mother again, and how he almost stopped breathing when he found his stepfather assaulting her. He told them that he couldn't think of anything but how much he needed to stop his stepfather and his own actions, those thoughts had also gone muddy in the whirlwind in his mind.

He re-lived every second and, as if in a trance, he began frantically rubbing his hands together to try to wipe away the now-dried blood.

Jimin took one of his hands while Jungkook took the other, trying to stop him from rubbing them, but he barely noticed. When he finished speaking, his breath came out as if he had run all the way back there.

"Ok. At least now we know what happened," Jungkook said, just to break the silence.

"But, guys, I..." Taehyung started, but was interrupted by Jin.

"No, you don't really know what happened after you left," commented the eldest, "And it doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is that you're here and you're fine, and we'll take care of you."

"Which brings us to another matter. Taehyung can't stay here," Namjoon said and looked around, but everyone waited patiently for him to finish. "This place is not even a little bit appropriate for living. There is nothing he might need and..."

"I can't go home," Taehyung fussed. "All that blood and... if he's dead, I..."

Everyone else shushed him together, putting a finger to their lips in a gesture to tell their friend to shut up.

"Who says you’re going to your house?" Namjoon asked. "That's not what I was talking about."

In a second, the younger ones started to play and mock, teasing Taehyung and the older ones. Then everything seemed lighter and simpler, as it only seemed when the seven of them were together. For a while, Taehyung allowed himself to enjoy his friends' presence even though he couldn't forget everything else. At least now his friends were there and he felt stronger knowing he had their support.

None of them paid attention to the time. At one point, one of his friends had loaned Taehyung a coat so he could get rid of the bloody clothes, but no one could tell how much time had passed before or after that.

“We must find a decent place for you to take a shower and get rid of the rest of this blood,” Hoseok said before they left the building. Taehyung felt lighter and freer knowing that he could open up to his friends.

The seven walked the city streets as if they had no worries in the world. The day was sunny, the sun was so bright that it seemed to be helping the boys cheer up Taehyung.

Even with the small breakfast Seokjin had provided, by that time everyone was hungry again, but no one paid attention to it despite the growling stomachs.

Despite the busy hours and streets, people walking around at their lunch hour didn't notice or simply didn't care about the seven young people walking around.

They talked, laughed, and joked, and Taehyung had finally started to interact more, putting his worries aside with some effort. The walk to Namjoon's house was not difficult in the company of friends, even though Namjoon did not exactly live near Taehyung's house.

No one noticed when Jungkook stopped walking and almost stuck his nose in the window of a store, so close his breath was steaming up the glass. It was a large electronics store, and in the front there were several large TVs with crisp, bright images.

Jungkook wasn’t interested in buying a TV or any other electronic product. He didn't have to be glazed to the window of such a store if he wanted something. His family was not as rich as Jimin's, but his parents had enough money to buy whatever he asked, and he didn't have to covet a TV like that since he had a very similar one at home. No, Jungkook was not interested in the devices, but in the images that were shown on each of them.

"Hyung," Jungkook called without even looking at the others. His black eyes didn't leave the screens on the other side of the glass. He did not want to miss any part of the news.

Of course the others had no way of knowing which one Jungkook was calling, since they were all older than him, but no one cared or asked any questions. Everyone turned at the younger boy's voice, as they would have done even if he called someone's name. When they realized that they had already walked a few steps, they approached him, alternating glances between Jungkook's serious face and the window.

Jungkook pointed to the glass-exposed TVs without saying anything else. He didn't need to say anything, he thought. The pictures would say for him.

On all TVs, the images were the same: the news. At first no one seemed alarmed or surprised. They were only curious because Jungkook had found something interesting enough to call them, but that was before they heard what the reporter was saying.

"After being found injured in his own home, the policeman was taken to the nearest hospital, where he spent a few hours in surgery. Doctors reported that there was no complication during the procedure and the patient spent little time in the ICU because he woke up quickly after the effects of the anesthesia had passed. His condition is not critical at the moment, but he will continue to stay at the hospital for further care." The reporter's well-trained voice came out strong and calm, despite the macabre content of the news story.

Taehyung felt his heart skip a beat, his brown eyes wide and his mouth half open, but he didn't believe he could really express what he was feeling. A mixture of relief and panic invaded him like an avalanche.

He didn't need to hear the cop's name to know that the woman was talking about his stepfather. Nor did he need to watch the pictures on TV to know what the cop's house was like when he was found, because it was all etched in his mind, the most vivid memories he wouldn’t like to have.

But if the man was alive, it meant that Taehyung did not have to carry the weight of his life (or death) on his shoulders. He could handle the guilt of injuring his stepfather in a moment of fury and desperation to defend his mother, but he was not a killer.

Relief brought tears to his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He had cried too much that morning. Besides, what would happen now? His stepfather wasn't exactly the most understanding person in the world, and judging by the things he'd already done, he wouldn't avoid a chance to tell that it was Taehyung who had hurt him. The same fear that had made his heart skip a beat now made it beat faster.

Taehyung forced himself to ignore his own thoughts and pay attention to what was happening on the screen.

Images of the hospital had changed, and now everyone could see a couple in a studio, sitting behind a half-moon table of polished wood and marble with a big screen behind them that read "POLICE ATTACKED AT HOME."

Taehyung swallowed hard. He had a strong feeling about how this was going to end.

"According to the victim’s testimony to the police this morning, the attack’s perpetrator was his own stepson, who allegedly used a broken glass bottle to injure him in a sudden attack of rage," the reporter explained.

"The victim states that the stepson has a history of violence and an aversion for rules, and the police are engaged in the investigation and search for Kim Taehyung, the victim's stepson," continued the other reporter with a blank expression. 

A picture of Taehyung appeared on the screen as the reporter spoke. The brown hair was a little shorter in the photo than it actually was, since it was an old photo. Then the image changed and a blond man who was in his late thirties appeared on the screen wearing a police uniform.

"We are not going to let such an attack go unpunished," the blond policeman spoke harshly. "An attack on a police officer is, in addition to a crime, a disrespect to the authorities of this city. If this continues, no one else will be safe. A troubled young man can't go around doing whatever he wants," his voice was louder now, more angry. "Let's do our colleague justice by protecting this city."

Taehyung couldn't believe that they were distorting everything! These journalists just passed on the information they received, but they were not right. They had been modified or were incomplete, and the police were saying the same things as his stepfather. Taehyung knew that, but he couldn't help feeling frustrated. His stepfather was a police officer and had enough power to influence the entire department. The police, in turn, were contaminating the media. Taehyung understood that the consequence of all this would be that no one else would believe him, much less want to know his side of the story. Now everyone would see him as a troubled, violent young man who hurt people for no reason.

These thoughts were only reaffirmed when the TV image changed again, this time showing his picture on one side and the reporter on the other.

"Kim Taehyung was convicted of theft just over three years ago and has just left the reform school, his departure coinciding with his 18th birthday. As an adult, Kim Taehyung seems to have become more violent. We ask that you be careful, but if you see him or have any information that can help with the investigation, please contact the police. Your identities will be protected and you will not be in any danger from such contact." Just as the woman finished her sentence, the aforementioned phone number for the police appeared below the screen.

"Investigation my ass!" Jungkook was outraged. "I doubt they want to investigate anything. They've decided to blame Tae for everything."

"I said we should set his house on fire," Yoongi said in a serious tone. He didn't seem to be kidding, and his friends knew him well enough to know it wasn't even a joke. Everyone looked at him very seriously. "What?" He continued. "I doubt he’d be doing all this if he had to put out the fire of that cowardly ass."

"Maybe they don't know what kind of people they're dealing with," Jimin thought aloud. "Maybe he lied to his colleagues in the police department and they don't know who he really is."

"Regardless, it's no longer safe for Tae to be on the street. Anyone can decide to report him. We need to get him to a safe place and think about what to do," Hoseok concluded.

As soon as Hoseok finished speaking, the door to the electronics store opened, accompanied by the sound of a bell ringing. A salesman came out wearing jeans and a blue polo shirt with the store logo stamped in his left pocket. The seven young men struggled to act naturally, but those who knew them would know that it was unnatural for Yoongi's small eyes to be so wide open.

"Can I help you?" The man asked with a smile, and Namjoon knew he didn't suspect a thing. Either the man was not good at remembering faces or had not seen the news. Anyway, Namjoon chose not to risk it.

"Not really. Thank you," Namjoon replied with a small forced smile that showed his dimples. "We were just looking." To his friends, he whispered, "Let's go."

They had better get out before the salesman recognized Taehyung. And there they were again, heading for Namjoon's house.

Maybe it was the fear of someone recognizing Taehyung wandering the street, but the boys practically ran to Namjoon's house. They arrived exhausted, hungry and thirsty. It was no surprise that they decided to eat and drink before they started talking about what was going on. Besides, no one really wanted to get back to the subject. Each of them was thinking of a less intrusive and disturbing way to bring the issue to Taehyung and remind him of everything that had happened to him. Taehyung, on the other hand, didn’t want to involve his friends more than he had already involved in his problems.

This was a delicate moment and no one was in a hurry, after all, no one wanted to make it worse. So, they silently ate the food Seokjin and Yoongi prepared for them. There was no joke or attempt to improve the mood, as had happened until they found out what had happened after Taehyung left his stepfather's house.

Finally, after everyone had finished their meal and was having some beer - except Taehyung who simply looked at the beer bottle in his hand and remembered what he had done - Hoseok decided to say something.

“I think we should do something to bring out the truth.” It was rare to see Hoseok so serious, as he was usually the most excitable out of all of them. “We can't let Taehyung be incriminated for something he didn't do.”

"As if that hadn't happened before," Taehyung grunted, but his comment was ignored by the others.

"Hobi hyung is right," Jimin agreed, "It's not fair for Tae to be arrested for something so serious when nothing they are saying is true."

"It makes no difference," Taehyung grunted again and was ignored.

“Maybe I have an idea on how to do that,” Namjoon said, causing everyone to look hopefully in his eyes, except for Taehyung, who kept analyzing the beer bottle as if it had been the bottle he had used for hurting his stepfather.

"Tell us." It was Seokjin's turn to grumble, but he wasn't as discouraged as Taehyung, so he wasn't ignored.

"We know Taehyung has been wrongly accused before," explained Namjoon, "and that it was all a trick of his stepfather."

"It's true," Jungkook agreed, remembering all the stories he had heard from Taehyung about the case that had taken him to the reform school. “He was charged with theft by one of the owners of the house he was hired to graffiti on.”

"Exactly," continued Namjoon.

"And what does this have to do with the present case?" Yoongi asked. Although he was playing with his lighter and not even looking at his friends, he was paying more attention than they could imagine.

"It has to do with the fact that they’re using his past against him," Namjoon explained. “Having a police record is always a high point in becoming a suspect. With that and the fact that he has his stepfather against him, Taehyung doesn't have much chance of having someone by his side. If we can prove that he was wronged in both cases, he’ll have a chance to be heard.”

“I might know someone who can help us,” Hoseok added, “if we can get this evidence.”

All of Taehyung's friends began to agree, seeing in Namjoon's suggestion the perfect, though incomplete, plan to rid Taehyung of that accusation and possible imprisonment, or of a life in hiding.

"I told you it won't work!" Taehyung shouted this time, as his grumblings were being ignored. The bottle in his hand hit the table hard, but fortunately he didn't break it and wasn't hurt by the gesture.

Everyone looked at him in astonishment, but all Taehyung saw was empathy returning to his friends’ eyes. He was fed up with that empathy.

"Don't you get it?" He complained, his eyes once again filling with tears and his hands shaking. “None of this will work! No one will believe me, no one will doubt my stepfather's word! Do you think I never tried to report him for assaulting my mother? Do you think I didn't try to say that I had done nothing wrong when they accused me of theft? No one ever believes me if he's on the other side accusing me. None of this will work!”

Taehyung wanted his friends to understand and move away. He didn’t even want to stay at Namjoon's house, because if he were ever found, his friend would be accused of hiding a criminal. He believed with all his might that he had no chance against his stepfather, and seeing his friends try to help him, knowing it would be in vain, was difficult for him to see. His friends' startled glances made Taehyung feel even worse.

"And stop looking at me like that," he grunted again and went back to analyzing the beer bottle; he was getting tired. “You don't have to feel sorry for me and think I'm scared or something. I just don't want you to get involved in this anymore than you already are.”

A silence fell over the room, along with a tension so thick that a knife could cut through it.

“Are you nuts?!” Yoongi's voice cut the tension and startled his friends, including Taehyung who stared at him wide-eyed.

No one had ever seen Yoongi be so incisive. Usually the second oldest in the group seemed to be thinking of something else, always with a neutral expression and eyes wandering as he watched the fire or the horizon. They knew their friend paid attention to what they said, but he never did anything but make a quick suggestion or ask a question that urged others to speak for him. That outburst of indignation was new to everyone.

"No one here is sorry for you," Yoongi said, his voice louder than usual. "Of course, what’s happening is not fair, but we’re not sorry for you because we know you’re able to get over it with your head held high, as you did last time."

"We’re your friends, Tae," Seokjin added with a slight smile on his thick lips. He was the only one who could dare to interrupt Yoongi, such was their trust in each other because they were cellmates - and the fact that Seokjin was older also helped a little. “We’ll do everything we can to help you through this, as you did everything you could to help us when we were in reform school.”

���Besides,” Namjoon added, “we're already tangled in it, so there's no point in running away or pretending there’s nothing happening.”

Taehyung was still shocked by what Yoongi said, so he didn't have the nerve to interrupt his friends. Besides, he knew that if it was any of the others in his situation, he would do the same and feel the same way, so he couldn't blame his friends or stop them from helping.

"Tae," Jimin called, causing his friend to finally stop staring at Yoongi, who was still looking at Taehyung with an annoyed expression. "I know how you feel. I know fighting this is tiring and it seems better to let it go. But you, like all of us, know that hiding the truth is harmful not only to you but to others as well. What will happen to your mother if you keep quiet and get arrested again? What will happen to us if you don't speak up this time?”

Taehyung frowned as he considered what he had just heard. He didn't want to involve anyone in his troubles, but remembering what he saw his stepfather do to his mother while he wasn't around made his heart clench in his chest. Jimin was right; hiding the truth would not only harm him, as Taehyung first believed, it would harm his mother and friends, the only people who liked him and protected him.

"We can do it, Tae," Hoseok said cheerfully, trying to relieve the stress and irritation from his friends. “I know someone who’ll listen to you and make others do the same. We just need to find the evidence, and I know we can find it for your cases like we did for mine.”

"And now that we're out here," Jungkook added, "it will be even easier than when we were stuck in the reform school."

Hoseok's lawyer was brought up then. He had believed in Hoseok when the young man was arrested, and as soon as Namjoon and Seokjin got into the reform school computer room and got the evidence to acquit Hoseok, the lawyer helped release him. If they got the evidence, that same lawyer could believe Taehyung and help him be heard and prove his innocence.

Seeing friends so keen to think of a way to help him, Taehyung could no longer reject their help. He had only three options: being arrested for assaulting his stepfather, living on the run, or proving his own innocence. He had a hard time believing he could succeed in the third option, but as he listened to his friends' explanations and reasonings, he was beginning to think it might be worth a try.

With no further objection from Taehyung, his friends understood that they had the freedom and consent to plan what to do next and how to help Taehyung.

Once again, Taehyung spent most part of the night awake, if not listening to his friends' ideas and plans, then thinking about all the decisions that were made that day and the possible consequences.

It was agreed that they would be divided into 3 groups. The first group would go to the house whose owners accused Taehyung of theft to retrieve camera images that could prove that Taehyung did not enter the house to steal it. The second group would go to Taehyung's mother to talk to her and ask her to help and testify against her husband, telling the truth: that Taehyung was simply protecting her. The third group would go to the police file to try to get the files from the previous case to prove that everything was orchestrated by Taehyung's stepfather to incriminate him.

At first, they wanted to keep Taehyung hidden in Namjoon's house, but as the young man refused to stand still while the others helped him, it was decided that he would go with Namjoon to the house he supposedly stole, where he would be less likely to get caught, while Jimin and Hoseok would go to his mother, and Jungkook, Yoongi and Seokjin would go to the police file.

Taehyung could see the logic of the plan and was willing to try it, since he knew his friends would do it anyway, even without him. If he compared his own attitudes with those of his friends, he would know that they were doing nothing that he would not do. However, he couldn't stop thinking about the possible consequences of what they were doing.

First, Namjoon accompanying him to a place where Taehyung had already been wrongfully accused was very dangerous. If the owners of the house saw him, they would surely report him to the police and Namjoon would be taken as his accomplice. In addition, he could be accused of attempting to steal from them again, for revenge or whatever reason his stepfather or the homeowners might invent.

Second, talking to Taehyung's mother made Taehyung's chest tighten. He was aware that what his friends would ask of his mother was extremely disturbing and painful. Besides not being able to go to her because the police would be waiting for him, Taehyung refused to put his own mother against the wall, asking her to do something she was afraid of. Taehyung knew that his mother had never reported his stepfather because no one would believe her and so she would be even more vulnerable at the hands of that rascal.

Third, breaking into the police file was extremely dangerous and highly unlikely. He still couldn't believe his friends would try to do so. Still, if anyone had a chance to do that, it was Seokjin, who had been able to convince the reform school guards to release Namjoon's access to computers, even though “must stay away from computers” was clearly written on Namjoon’s sentence. The oldest in the group had a way of convincing people that even his friends couldn’t understand. But if they were caught, they would be arrested for sure and their sentences would not be soft, and they had no reasonable explanation for doing so.

Taehyung feared for himself, but he feared much more for his friends and his mother. Even if he was arrested again, this time for much more than three years, he would rather take it than see his friends being arrested again, or seeing his mother suffer more than she was already suffering.

When he finally managed to close his eyes to rest, Taehyung had no good dreams, as they all involved everything that could go wrong with their plan. When he woke up, Taehyung was even more apprehensive than when he went to sleep, but he was aware that he could do nothing to stop his friends, so he could only wish them luck and ask them to be careful when they all left Namjoon's house to put the plan in motion.

***

After everything had been cleared up and the groups were set to put all parts of the plan into action, the boys considered leaving Taehyung at home. He would be in danger if he walked the streets now that he was wanted by the police, so staying at Namjoon's house would be safer. But the truth was that Taehyung was still a little nervous and very agitated with all the decisions his friends were making, and there was no denying that all the other six guys were afraid that if they left Taehyung alone at that moment, he might do something stupid that would endanger the whole plan.

So since letting Taehyung's emotions run wild trying to convince his mother to help didn't seem like a good idea, and getting him close to a police station was out of the question, there he was, following Namjoon's long strides.

The older one usually worked alone, it had always been that way. He didn't really need help and it was usually easier to concentrate if there was no one around, but he didn't care about the company.

Namjoon didn't say much along the way, but Taehyung didn't seem to notice. The younger one spoke almost nonstop, his voice low and hoarse, but he didn't seem to expect any response from Namjoon.

It was obvious that Taehyung didn't notice, didn't even pay attention, but Namjoon watched him from the corner of his eye from time to time. Even though he knew Taehyung's generally lively, chatty nature, the elder knew that at that moment it was all just a facade. The younger one was more nervous than he wanted to admit and talked nonstop to try to cover it up, but his friend knew him too well not to notice.

Taehyung hadn't talked this much since everyone was in the reform school together. Namjoon would have to live under a rock to not notice his friend's behavioral changes, which, as Namjoon had imagined, changed again when they got to where they were going.

Taehyung was suddenly completely silent.

Namjoon could almost hear the beating of both hearts. His own was calm and steady since he was no longer intimidated by the work he had to do. He was used to all that: the adrenaline, the care he knew he needed to be. Taehyung's heartbeat, on the other hand, though Namjoon couldn't really hear it, was racing and out of step. The almond eyes were wide.

It was no surprise. Taehyung knew every part of the plan as well as the others - not that it had been easy to convince him that it should be done. No. His eyes were wide with the shock of recognition.

He did not expect to return there. After a year in the reform school, this was the last place he expected to be.

The drawing on the high wall with the white background caught his eye. Every well done detail demonstrated the zeal with which it was made. The bold colors expressed joy and movement as it should be. The images, the represented children, seemed to dance without worry, as he had once done, at a time that seemed too distant to be precise.

It was his work. The design, the colors, even the small signature on one corner of the wall where the work ended, had been carefully done by him.

Contrary to what many might think, graffiti was a type of art and had nothing to do with vandalism. Also, some people might not like it, but Taehyung had talent. The art on the wall showed it. It also showed that his talent was recognized. Or at least it had been before he was arrested.

That was how it had started. Of course, by the time things happened, Taehyung had not linked one thing to another, but he had enough time to do it in the reform school.

He had been hired by the family who lived there to do the art on the wall. The family liked graffiti and had discovered his talent. It had been a good and satisfying job. Unfortunately, it had also happened on the same date the family was stolen from.

After that, Taehyung had been accused, without much of a chance to defend himself, of being the perpetrator of the theft. He found himself in a quick, confused rush to prove his innocence, but nothing seemed to work. Even his lawyer looked at him with suspicion, and with the influence of the family that had been stolen, it was not long before Taehyung knew the inside of the reform school.

Luckily, he also met his friends, which was why he was currently looking at the art that was still on the wall and remembering it. Because his friends believed in him more than himself and were willing to prove they were right.

Since Taehyung trusted and believed in them, he must also believe that they would get what they wanted, he had also seen their efforts to clear Hoseok out of charge and the positive results of it. But even so, he hoped Namjoon would take the first step.

Namjoon, in turn, had decided to give his friend some time to get used to the idea and accept, react to it, but he was already getting nervous from all that silence. Since Taehyung said nothing and shed no tears, Namjoon decided it was time to act. After all, the longer they spent there, the more likely someone would pass them and recognize Taehyung.

"Well, let's go," Namjoon finally said and Taehyung nodded.

The two of them approached the wall. They were going to break the law again. In fact, almost the whole group would do it and there was no innocent one this time. Convincing Taehyung's mother to help would be uncomfortable and probably difficult, but it was the only thing within the law they would do. The other two groups had to be more careful.

But at that moment, Namjoon was not worried. The possibility of breaking the law would only keep him on the alert. He wouldn’t have suggested attempting to acquit his friend if that were a problem. For him and Taehyung, however, the illegal part would only start later. For now, the biggest concern was not letting the youngest of them be recognized.

Despite the little movement of people on the wide, well-lit street, Taehyung kept his head covered by the hood of his sweatshirt. Shorter and more agile than his older friend who had a tendency to be clumsy, he offered to climb the wall while Namjoon watched the street.

The eldest of the pair looked around, happy to let the younger help. Normally he could do everything on his own, but it didn't hurt to have an assistant. He also knew from Taehyung's concentrated expression that having something to do was comforting.

Taehyung balanced the best he could on the wall and climbed up, trying not to think that he could be recognized at any moment by someone walking down the street, or worse, that someone could leave the house and see him there. Instead, he kept his focus on the small camera in front of him.

Namjoon had asked him to get technical information about the camera over the garage wall of the fancy house that was filming the graffiti, the exact camera he was looking at, at that moment. Taehyung had not asked questions before and was not asking now. He knew that his friend had it all planned and chose only to trust him. Namjoon's skills had worked to get Hoseok out of the reform school. It was hard to believe, but they could work now, too. After all the discussion with his friends and the scolding he took, Taehyung was trying not to be pessimistic.

It was easier said than done, but he could at least not disturb his friend.

Namjoon jotted down quickly and accurately all the information his friend passed while clinging to the high wall like a koala. The camera’s brand, as well as the model, the year and, lastly, the trade name of the company that managed the recordings. Rich people like those who lived there weren't the kind who ran their own security. They hired other people or companies to do this kind of work for them.

When he was over, Taehyung jumped off the wall and landed easily on the sidewalk. He waited until he received an affirmative signal from his friend and climbed back up the wall, this time with the main entrance gate to help him lean. He repeated the procedure and gave Namjoon the same information about the second camera, which was positioned to film the entrance to the house.

Namjoon made another positive sign and saw his friend skilfully climb down the wall for the second time. He himself had already noted the location and position information for each camera. He might need them or not, but he didn't want to risk it. To save his friend, every detail was important.

He patted Taehyung's shoulder and started to walk away, putting his hands in his pockets and acting casually, knowing that Taehyung was doing the same behind him. The first stage of their part in the plan was complete.

***

Jimin and Hoseok were not as satisfied with their role in the whole plan. Although it seemed like they got the easy and least dangerous part, they believed they actually got the worst part of the plan. They were certainly the best option for doing what was in their charge, but they would not like it at all.

After all was decided, while they were on their way to the hospital where Taehyung's stepfather was hospitalized, Jimin and Hoseok were silently wondering what they would do to complete their task. They were undoubtedly the friendliest and happiest people in the group (aside from Taehyung who wasn't very excited lately), so it's no fairer than them to be responsible for the most socially interacting part of the plan.

Listening to others talk about what they should do, anyone would think the task would be simple, but they were not fooled. Regardless of having the group's greatest social skills (apart from Seokjin who would use his talents for other purposes), they thought they fell far short of the task they were given. Convincing Taehyung's mother to do something she feared would not be an easy task.

Like the others, Jimin and Hoseok believed that Taehyung's mother would eventually give in to the opportunity to help her son, as they knew she loved Taehyung. They spent at least a year listening to their friend speak well of his mother and fondly remember all the good times they had together. They heard all about how she was willing to marry Taehyung's stepfather so she could support and give her son a father. They knew all the suffering and pain she had to go through while she was married. All because she loved her son and believed that staying with Taehyung's stepfather was the best way to take care of her son, even if she needed to catch up with the man who supported them.

Regardless of the marriage, Taehyung's mother's primary goal was to take good care of her son, and when the boy was arrested, she had no chance to help him because she was injured and the whole case was quickly closed. Jimin and Hoseok would appeal to the fact that this time she could help her son and escape herself from the pain this marriage caused her.

When they arrived at the hospital, it was not difficult to find out which room Taehyung's stepfather was in. Nor was it hard to find out that Taehyung's mother was practically trapped inside the room to take care of her husband and only went out a few times to eat. So Jimin and Hoseok had to wait in the hospital cafeteria until Taehyung's mother showed up to eat.

As bad as it sounds, the two friends were not surprised when lunchtime was over and Taehyung's mother didn't show up. If Taehyung's stepfather was as bad as Taehyung had said, he would surely deprive Taehyung's mother of some meals. They just couldn't understand how it could happen inside the hospital, where nurses and doctors would notice if someone was starving.

They were still patiently waiting for Taehyung's mother when a man wearing a blue coat came to them and called them to talk to him in his office. Because they were afraid of missing Taehyung's mother, Jimin and Hoseok resisted the doctor's invitation a little, but as soon as the elder said he wanted to talk precisely about the person they were looking for, the two friends followed the doctor to his office.

As they entered the office, both boys looked around the room. Each reacted differently to the new environment. Jimin remembered the time he had accompanied a friend on an appointment, but remembered very little about his own appointments with a doctor, so the place looked like any room that was clear and looked sterile. Hoseok, on the other hand, remembered very well the consultation he had had when he was arrested, when they thought he was on drugs to steal a cop's gun, so he felt a little nervous inside those walls. Even so, the two sat in front of the doctor's desk, as requested, and waited.

After finally hearing what the doctor had to say, they felt their faith in humanity being restored. Apparently, when he visited Taehyung's stepfather's room for a consultation on the patient's condition, the doctor noticed that Taehyung's mother had some unhealed wounds and some bruises that were still apparent. Seeing other women in this situation, the doctor ended up asking no question to Taehyung's stepfather about the matter and waited for the woman to leave the room unaccompanied to question her about her injuries. Unfortunately, the woman said she was very clumsy and kept hurting herself, banging on furniture and falling. Despite continuing to suspect of aggression, the doctor could not say anything if no one reported the aggressor.

However, the doctor's suspicions fell on the person they least expected: Taehyung. After exposing the fact that he was worried about the policeman's wife who had been assaulted by his stepson, the doctor expressed fear that Taehyung had not only assaulted his stepfather, but had been assaulting his own mother.

Jimin and Hoseok couldn't be more outraged by the doctor's suspicions, but they couldn't say they were surprised either. As Namjoon had said, Taehyung was all too likely to be accused at that moment, and anyone would suspect that he would be the most violent person in the family.

Even so, Jimin and Hoseok responded similarly to the doctor's accusation, tightening their lips in a thin line and clenching their hands into fists. They wanted to defend their friend and shout to the whole hospital to hear that it was not Taehyung who was the perpetrator of his mother's aggression, but his stepfather. If it depended on Taehyung's friends, even the doctor could be attacked at that moment for talking such bullshit.

Fortunately, the two boys were not stupid, so they did nothing against the doctor, nor told the truth that few knew. They simply said that they also suspected that Taehyung's mother had been abused for some time and so they wanted to see her, to persuade her to have an exam and to have documented that all her injuries were a consequence of the beatings she had taken, for only with such a document she could expose her attacker. At no point, however, did they imply that they knew who was responsible for it.

Noting that the young men were trying to help a woman they knew and apparently appreciated, the doctor proposed that they talk to Taehyung's mother, and if she agreed to take the exam, he would arrange for everything to be done correctly and discreetly, and yet would sign and stamp the report so that it would be taken to the police to make the complaint.

With someone else on their side, Jimin and Hoseok practically celebrated the unexpected advance in their plan. They just didn't do it because they still had to talk to Taehyung's mother. Hoping that they would succeed, they went back to the cafeteria and waited for Taehyung's mother once again.

Once again, the two friends spent a long time waiting for Taehyung's mother. Enough time to be concerned (again) about how they might approach the subject and persuade the wife to do an extensive and intrusive examination and to testify against her own husband. It was only when Jimin and Hoseok lost their smile of excitement that the confidence had put on their faces after talking to the doctor that Taehyung's mother entered the cafeteria.

Figuring the woman might be starving for skipping lunch, Jimin and Hoseok waited for her to grab the food and sit down for them to approach.

"Excuse me," Jimin caught the eye of Taehyung's mother, who seemed quite surprised to be approached by the two young men, but then smiled when she saw the sincere smiles on their pretty faces. Seeing that she was willing to listen to them and was not afraid of them, Jimin continued in a low voice so that only she could hear, "We are friends with Taehyung."

This time the woman widened her eyes and turned her head from side to side, looking for any sign of her husband or any other police officer. Then, making a hasty gesture with her hands, she asked them to sit down.

"How is he?" She asked immediately, lowering her voice as Jimin had done and leaning over the table to get closer to her son's friends. “I asked him to run away and I didn't hear from him anymore. When I saw what Minsuk told the police on the news this morning, it was too late for me to explain what really happened.”

Jimin and Hoseok looked at each other with frowns, finding the statement strange.

"What do you mean?" Hoseok asked as they looked back at Taehyung's mother. “Didn't the police get your statement about what happened?”

Taehyung's mother sighed and stared at her own food for a few seconds before looking up and answering:

"Minsuk told them I wasn't home," her voice was altered by the lump that formed in her throat and her eyes filled with tears. “According to his testimony, I only arrived after Taehyung rushed out of the house and he was already lying on the floor when I arrived. I also asked them if I needed to testify, but Minsuk was able to convince them that taking my statement would be a pain for me because I had to testify against my son. They made sure to stop me from talking, as if I could collapse at any moment.”

Seeing a tear that Taehyung's mother couldn't keep from running down the beautiful woman's pale cheeks, Jimin and Hoseok were sure they could convince her to help Taehyung in this case. It was obvious to them that she wanted to testify in favor of her son, but was being held back by her husband and the police who believed in Taehyung's stepfather.

Unfortunately, her statement that Taehyung was simply trying to defend her that day would not be enough. Jimin and Hoseok remembered this as they sighed and looked with sorrow and compassion at the wounds of the woman in front of them. Taehyung's mother was a woman as beautiful as her son, with perfectly aligned facial features. However, all this beauty was marred by the dark circles under the almond eyes, the pale skin, and the bruises of different colors due to the different dates on which they were made. It was time to do their most difficult task, and Jimin and Hoseok wished not to do much harm to it.

Once again the two friends looked at each other, expecting the other to take responsibility for the task and perform it. Jimin rubbed the back of his neck and Hoseok cleared his throat before speaking.

"Ma’am," the eldest of them said gently, "in fact, we came here to ask you a favor."

Taehyung's mother raised her eyebrows and tilted her head slightly.

"We're helping Taehyung prove he's innocent," Hoseok clarified, looking around as he pronounced his friend's name to make sure no one could hear him. "But we need your help."

For a moment, various emotions crossed the woman's face. Taehyung's mother was afraid for her son who could be discovered if they were heard there, she was relieved to know that someone was trying to help Taehyung, she felt pain for not being able to help him at such a time, she was hopeful that she could finally be useful to her boy, and finally she was afraid to know that she would have to face her fears.

"What do you need?" She finally asked, gathering all her remaining courage and all the love she felt for her son. As always, she was willing to do anything to take care of Taehyung.

It was then that Jimin and Hoseok understood why Taehyung had always said his mother was brave even though she had never done anything to stop her husband's aggression. It wasn't a matter of having the courage to say what needs to be said, but it had to do with the courage to do whatever it took to help the one she loved. Fortunately, this was Taehyung, so both friends could breathe a sigh of relief.

It didn't take long for them to explain what Taehyung's mother needed to do, including the forensic medical examination and the future statement she would need to give. They didn't miss out on the fact that the doctor who had operated on Lee Minsuk, Taehyung's stepfather, would be responsible for her examination, and Taehyung's mother smiled slightly as she remembered that the doctor had approached her to ask about her injuries.

While Jimin and Hoseok explained what she needed to do, Taehyung's mother seemed several times worried, tired, or doubtful, but at no point did she interrupt them or express any thoughts against what they were asking of her. Taehyung's two friends could see the apprehension seize the woman, but were amazed at her prompt agreement.

“Are you sure everything is okay?” Jimin couldn't hold back the question. They hoped to find more resistance in explaining everything she should do.

The smile on Taehyung's mother's face reminded Jimin of his time in the reform school with Taehyung, when Taehyung smiled without difficulty. The drawn lips made the cheeks swell and the joy reached the brown eyes without restriction, as if that face were made for that expression of happiness. The tears that had once again accumulated in her eyes did not change the fact that they were happy.

“All I've done,” she explained, “all I've ever wanted is for Taehyung to be happy, have good friends, and live a good life. It shames me to know that it took him to be arrested to find someone he could trust, but I'm glad nonetheless. No matter what price I have to pay, I just want my son to be happy. What you ask of me does not seem to be a price high enough to compensate for all the harm I caused him by choosing this life we ​​have lived for so long.”

It had been a long time since Jimin and Hoseok had been sad enough to shed tears. Not even when they ended up in the reform school did they feel so sad. Seeing a mother say that she had to pay more, in addition to all that she had already suffered, to make up for all the effort she had taken to care for her child, was like someone trying to tear their hearts out.

Jimin and Hoseok struggled to smile and tell Taehyung's mother that she had already paid dearly, that she had already paid a price beyond due for a wrong choice she had made a long time ago.

Trying to shed the weight of all those bad energies and negative emotions, they escorted Taehyung's mother to Lee Minsuk's doctor's office. As they had imagined, it had not been easy to talk to Taehyung's mother, but fortunately she was exactly the angel Taehyung had described.

***

The trio of Seokjin, Yoongi, and Jungkook were the most eclectic of all groups. Someone who knew each of their personality would think they would find it difficult to mingle and would fall into an uncomfortable silence on the way to executing their part of the plan. But if this person really knew them, they wouldn't think that. After spending enough time getting to know each other while in the reform school, the seven young men were united as if they had spent their entire lives together, and these three demonstrated it in an endless conversation on their way to the police’s file.

After a little debate, Seokjin had taken the car out of the garage for the task, not only because it would be easier to drive back and forth with it, but also because his task was a little farther than those of the other groups. Then, shortly after Namjoon left with Taehyung heading the house whose wall Taehyung had graffiti three years earlier, and Jimin and Hoseok left for the hospital, the two oldest of the group and the youngest of all were accommodated in the SUV Seokjin had bought a few weeks earlier, with Jungkook nudging Yoongi insistently to get him to join the conversation while he and Seokjin talked about sports.

The concerns that plagued the others did not even seem to cross their minds because they were so confident. Poking around files and information that they shouldn't see wasn't exactly something they hadn't done before and they knew they could do what they needed without getting caught. After all, they had a plan. More or less.

At least they had agreed before leaving Namjoon's house that Yoongi would control his mood swings and wouldn’t try to set fire to anything, and if he tried, Jungkook was tasked with stopping him. After all, it would not be easy to explain and get away with it if the police file center suddenly caught fire. And Jungkook would try hard not to get too angry about anything and use his muay thai skills, but the youngest had been learning to control those impulses with Jimin's help since he was in reform school, so Seokjin wasn't really worried about that.

The oldest of them was in charge of opening the way and allowing the other two to access the files they were looking for. Seokjin would use his skills so that the stewards of the police file would not bother Yoongi and Jungkook while they did their part of the job.

He'd been trying not to use his good looks and good conversation to get what he wanted since he'd left the reform school. It was hard to resist, but he was trying hard, since he had learned from his friends that he had other qualities and didn't need to resort to that. However, he could not deny his help in the plan to acquit Taehyung. If this was the specific skill they needed, that was what he would use, and everything else that was needed. After all, his friend deserved it.

Yoongi's eyes were half closed, silently plotting an effective way to restrain Jungkook's tireless finger, which was constantly poking him, so that he could finally take his nap in the SUV's passenger seat when the younger man suddenly fell silent and jumped on the backseat, his hands gripping the two front seats firmly for that.

For a second, Yoongi thought he would finally get some sleep, so he closed his eyes again, but opened them at once when he felt the wind move near his face and tried to avoid widening them when he found Jungkook's hand five inches from his nose, pointing to something in front of the car.

"There it is, there it is! We’re here," Jungkook said with his cheerful voice and a huge smile on his face. Seokjin smiled as Yoongi mumbled a nod that was ignored by the other two.

Yoongi knew that his friends often ignored his moodiness and he didn't care. They paid attention when it was important and enjoyed it when he was in a good mood. That's what mattered, especially since no one was to blame for him being bipolar, literally. The others had just learned to live with it.

The police file center was a huge building that looked more like a post office shed than a police station. In fact, it wasn't really a police station. There was a police station a few blocks away, with police working to handle all kinds of complaints and making rounds. No, the file center was a warehouse type. That was where all evidence of all investigated cases was taken and filed. That's why it had that name.

Seokjin stopped the car just before the file center. He didn't want anyone to link the car to them if something didn't go as planned and they had to get away. It was not the first time for any of them doing something they shouldn't and he wanted to be prepared.

As the responsible young man, despite his explosive temper, Jungkook straightened as he got out of the car. This was no time for jokes, and after the trio walked closer to the center, he waited outside with Yoongi as Seokjin entered, just as they had agreed. They would wait for a signal from the eldest to sneak in and do their part. For now, it was Seokjin's turn.

The older one took a relaxed stance as he walked through the door. He felt confident and the smug smile that spread across his full lips as he watched the counter ooze charm.

It was perfect. Well that was just perfect. The file center parlor looked like a very simple reception, with a few waiting chairs and a high counter that could hold three computers, but only one of them was being used by none other than a beautiful brunette with straight brown hair stuck in a ponytail and a flawless blue police uniform. The atmosphere seemed very favorable to him.

Seokjin straightened his broad shoulders and shoved his hands in his pants pocket as he approached and rested his free elbow on the counter. His words were almost sweet as he greeted the woman with a simple "Good afternoon," but when the woman looked away from the computer screen to him, his dark eyes had a seductive glow.

He saw the policewoman swallow hard and he knew he had already gotten what he wanted. With the hand that was in his pocket so far, he made the gesture that he knew his friends outside would see through the door's glass. The woman would see nothing but his handsome face for a while.

"So, we meet again," Seokjin said with a slight tone of surprise in his voice.

The policewoman raised her eyebrows and tilted her head as she studied Seokjin's face, swallowing once more as she noted his beauty.

"Do we know each other?" She asked huskily, then cleared her throat and straightened in her chair trying to hide that she was rocked by Seokjin's appearance.

With an exclamation of surprise and a complete change from cheerful expression to one of wounded pride, Seokjin put a hand to his chest and asked if she didn't remember him. Looking concerned that she had somehow managed to hurt the handsome man in front of her, the woman simply said no.

"Gee, I thought you noticed me at the academy as I noticed you," he explained as soon as he got her answer. Then he looked away to the hand drawing abstract drawings on the counter, as if brooding over a thought. "It seems my interest in you is not reciprocal."

Suddenly the woman sucked in her breath and completely forgot to try to pretend she wasn't interested in Seokjin. She waved both hands in the air and nodded before answering.

"No, no!" She vehemently denied it. “Surely the interest is reciprocal.”

"Are you sure?" Seokjin asked frowning and leaning over the counter to get closer to her. "You don't even remember meeting me at the academy."

"You mean at the police academy?" The policewoman asked huskily again as she blinked nonstop and stared straight into Seokjin's dark, deep eyes. He simply nodded as he pouted his lower lip, drawing the policewoman's attention to his mouth. "Of... of course... I remember you."

Seokjin smiled at that answer. To the police officer, it sure seemed that he was glad she remembered him, but he was really happy because she had stammered to lie to satisfy him.

"So, you remember me?" He looked suddenly excited, his baritone voice rising a tone and drawing the cop's attention back to his mouth. "You don't know how happy that makes me."

Seokjin's response, both physics and the one that came out of his lips, was enough to make the cop relax and smile as she looked back into the dark eyes.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, more likely to go back to work now that the mess was over. Besides, it was obvious that she would do everything she could to keep Seokjin talking to her.

Shrugging, Seokjin ran a hand through his hair, disguising himself to watch the camera the woman should be watching and that was showing exactly how Yoongi and Jungkook entered the building through the side door.

"To tell you the truth, I kind of lied to you," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck and lightly pressing his lips. "I knew you were assigned to work here, so I thought I'd come see you, or rather meet you again."

Nothing Seokjin could say would have put a bigger, happier smile on the woman's face in front of him. The possibility of having a man like Seokjin interested in her seemed like the best thing that happened to her that day (or any other day of her life). She was not even aware that she had never seen that beautiful face in her life, or that she had never met those beautiful round dark eyes. Just knowing that as a simple policewoman who kept the police file and was not much watched by men like that, Seokjin being interested in her was enough to distract her from her work, which she didn't even think was that important.

That's what Seokjin focused on while he was there distracting her so that Yoongi and Jungkook had the peace and time to look for what they needed to clear Taehyung. Always remembering his false interest in the brunette in front of him, Seokjin asked her why she had been assigned to this work, if she enjoyed her job, why a beautiful woman like her was still single, why she was there alone during the day, among others. If his role in the plan was to get a girlfriend, Seokjin would have had enough of her by the time the day was over, as the policewoman answered each of his questions as if she had really known Seokjin for a long time and as if she didn't need to hide anything from a suspicious boy that was blatantly distracting her from her own work.

Not once did the brunette look from Seokjin to the monitor with the cameras she must be watching, or care that her co-workers were returning to their posts. However, as soon as Seokjin noticed the first policeman appear beside the woman, he checked the security cameras and saw that his friends were already heading for the exit. Not wanting the new front-desk occupant to watch as two intruders fled the file center with a stolen file under their arms, Seokjin extended his charm to the new cop.

"Good afternoon," Seokjin said as he reached for the policeman who was watching him with a frown. Seokjin's relaxed smile and charm were enough to make the man shake his hand and smile back. "I'm Yun Taewon," he lied, "a friend of Nanjeong from the academy." Of course, she hadn't said her name during the conversation, since she thought he knew her, but he had no trouble reading it on her badge and making sure to record it for that moment. "I just came to say hello to her, since I found out she's working here."

"It's nice to meet a friend of officer Jeong," the policeman chuckled as he sat down and patted the brunette on the shoulder beside him. "She doesn't talk much."

Smiling in Nanjeong's direction and winking at her, Seokjin made it clear that he knew the advantage he had over the other cop, since the woman had been talking to him for at least half an hour. Chuckling, Nanjeong did not deny what the policeman said and was glad to have Seokjin realize that she was really interested in him.

"I think I better get going," Seokjin said as he looked at the clock on his own wrist. Then he looked back at the brunette and added, "Why don't you give me your phone number so we won't lose touch again?"

The cop didn't even think twice. She took a pen and paper, wrote down her own phone number, and quickly handed it to Seokjin, who made a point of stroking her fingers and blinking back at her as he took the paper.

"Why don't I have your phone number yet?" Seokjin heard the other cop ask while he was leaving, and he didn't even have to fake a smug smile as the policewoman answered that the other cop didn't deserve her phone number.

Seokjin knew it was not right to use people to get what he wanted, but he could not deny that it was pleasant to know that he had conquered a beautiful woman and that he could do it again whenever he wanted. Nothing could inflate his ego more than that.

***

Namjoon and Taehyung didn't talk to the other boys. They hadn’t. Each group had their part of the plan to complete, and at the end, when they had everything they needed, they would gather the information and evidence they had gotten and move on to the next step. But for now, one task didn't depend on the other, and it might be even safer not to keep in touch at the moment.

So, the hacker and his friend went on to do just that, hacking. At that moment, the illegal part of their task would begin. Climbing the wall of a house, especially one that was supposedly stolen by one of them before, to see camera specifications could be a suspicious act, but it was not against the law. Illegal was what they wanted to do with that information.

Unsurprisingly, Namjoon knew the companies that did this kind of service. His curiosity and his gift for computers had led him to get to know them a little deeper. He had even ventured into the systems of some of them years before, when he was discovered and arrested. But it hadn't been that long before and he was convinced he still knew enough about these companies not to go wrong.

That's why he had almost smiled when Taehyung read the company name to him from up the wall. The hacker didn't want to overestimate himself. It was not good for any hacker to be overconfident or arrogant because it made them make mistakes. Mistakes made them leave marks that in turn made them get caught. But Namjoon trusted his skills just enough and needed. Besides, he could now also say that he knew the company he was dealing with.

The confirmation that his information about the company was not outdated was that it was completely empty of people when the pair arrived. Namjoon had done time and transport calculations hoping to find it just like that and smiled at Taehyung, showing his dimples in response to his friend's surprised exclamation.

Of course, he could try to hack into the company system that monitored the cameras from his own home and his own computer, as he had done several times before with other companies. But he knew that if he did that, he would be risking finding blocks and not finding the files he wanted for several reasons. But the matter was too important for him to risk not achieving his goal by silly details. Besides, the sooner they could gather all the evidence, the better, and he had an ace up his sleeve prepared especially for it.

So, there they were, already inside the company, walking around the rooms and cubicles until they found the office he wanted and where he knew he would find the files.

It was a small, dark room with a large computer whose keyboard had many buttons attached and several monitors on the wall in front. Namjoon sat in the high-backed padded white chair and took a good look at everything before letting his fingers work on the keyboard as if they had a life of their own and knew exactly what they were doing.

Taehyung let his friend work while looking around. He no longer looked, and didn't feel, as nervous as before. Perhaps his task of verifying camera information had helped more than he expected, and now the silence in the room was comfortable rather than a palpable tension.

It did not take long for the methodical and focused Namjoon to make some images appear on the monitors in front of him, catching the eye of Taehyung, who turned away from the door, where he was watching the rest of the office, to pay attention to his friend's work.

Gradually Namjoon was getting closer to what he wanted. He used the information Taehyung had given him to get to the right camera. He would check the wall camera first, the one that filmed the graffiti wall. He would do one thing at a time, with calm and detail. He couldn't afford to let anything go unnoticed. So, already fiddling with the log files, he concentrated his search on the approximate day and time of the police charge.

Taehyung saw his own image appear on the screens before him and searched for a chair to sit on. He didn't want to admit it, but the feeling of seeing himself on the monitors, as he had been three years earlier while graffitiing the wall, was a bit odd.

In the pictures, he wore light clothing. Faded jeans and a plain white shirt whose hem he had tucked into the waistband of his pants, which was complemented by an equally white belt. He would take the spray paint cans out of a black backpack he'd left on the floor near the wall and wouldn't let a single splash of paint get on his clothes as he made the shapes appear on the wall with serious expression and focused eyes.

Namjoon slightly increased the speed of the video, just enough so that they didn't take so long but without missing any detail, after watching how Taehyung's talent made him paint a beautiful picture on the wall, as well as the satisfied look on his face at his complete work before gathering his graffiti material, storing it all back in his backpack and slinging it over one shoulder as he walked away. A few steps further, Taehyung's recorded image stopped again and took one last look at the graffiti before nodding, as if approving his own work, and walking away from the wall, far enough to go out of the camera's range.

The hacker advanced the video until hours later, and even when several people stopped to watch Taehyung's art on the wall, the artist did not return to the scene, wearing that or any other outfit. Then, as a precaution, he replayed the recording even before his friend arrived with his backpack full of paint cans, and analyzed each moment. Thoroughly, he watched every minute of the video until he got to the previous day's recording, yet he found no other image of his friend. There was simply no record of Taehyung made by that camera the day the graffiti was made, the day the house was stolen and Taehyung was charged with committing the crime.

Neither reacted to that, however. Not yet. But Namjoon was careful to save the entire file of the graffiti-specific day recordings on a flash drive he had carried with him in his jeans pocket.

With the next camera, which was filming the entrance to the house, Namjoon was even more careful and detailed. He began by watching the early hours recordings of the morning, or rather at dawn, and proceeded from there. He didn't want to miss anything, didn't want to leave any breaches that could be used against Taehyung. He and all the other boys knew the graffiti artist was innocent, but they would need more than certainty to prove the truth.

Both Namjoon and Taehyung knew the time when the house had been stolen. Police had made a point of disclosing this information when they accused Taehyung of theft. But the two friends ignored the alleged evidence that the police had presented years before and resisted the urge to advance the recording. Instead, they watched, almost calmly, the many hours of video that were playing at the same slightly hurried speed as the previous one.

Nothing unusual happened throughout the day and no one but the residents themselves entered or left the house until the time of the robbery.

The pair watched the camera-recorded image of a man walking through the gate and into the house, and Namjoon slowed the image so they could see it in real time. He wore dark jeans and a very dark brown sweatshirt, with a hood that covered his head over the cap he wore.

The two friends frowned. It was obvious from everyone's clothes that had been filmed by both cameras that the day was hot. So why was this man dressed like that? Besides, it was clear it was a man. As much as the clothes covered his whole body and he kept his face hidden from the camera as he tried to keep it behind him as he entered the house, his height and walk made it clear that the person was a man. More than that, he was incredibly big and strong to be mistaken for a woman.

Namjoon said nothing. He didn't want to say anything until he could prove it, but the unarguably suspicious man who dressed in an absurd manner for the weather was incredibly big and strong to be mistaken for Kim Taehyung himself.

Taehyung was tall, but although his slender body showed some muscles, he was nowhere near what they saw on the monitors.

But neither of them said anything and Taehyung held his breath for a moment. This time his nervousness made him quiet rather than chatter.

No one broke the silence as they waited for the images to pass on the monitors, and as the man in the sweatshirt stepped out the front door of the house, looking around cautiously and holding a small box in both hands, the adrenaline made Taehyung jump from the chair. He controlled himself shortly thereafter, but his expectation was visible in the hand that clutched the arm of the chair so hard it made his knuckles white.

Namjoon straightened a little to get a better look. As the man approached the gate, Namjoon could see that the small box he held was unmistakably the family jewelry box that had been stolen that day, for which Taehyung had been charged. But the face the man was trying to keep down so that his cap and hood could hide him could not resist looking up. He knew exactly where the camera was and had deliberately avoided it when he entered the house, but at that moment, with the item stolen in his hands and feeling confident, the thief looked straight at it.

Taehyung gasped.

The face that appeared on the monitors was tanner than his own, perhaps only a few years older, but surely the features were tougher and the eyes, so light brown that they were almost green, had not had the slightest hint of kindness.

The thief, the man who had been shot by the security camera leaving the house with the stolen object in his hands, did not even look like Kim Taehyung.

Namjoon gave his friend a small smile and gave his shoulder a slight shake. Taehyung showed him a square smile before they both controlled themselves and looked back at the recording.

They saw the owners of the house return, saw when the couple's wife left the house, obviously desperate, and when she returned as her husband called her. They saw when the police arrived, spent a lot of time talking to them, taking notes and watching the camera as Namjoon and Taehyung had done earlier. They also saw when the police left and the woman was crying at the door of the house hugging her husband who had an angry look.

But they saw no sign of Taehyung in the recording.

Namjoon saved that file the same way as the previous one and got up. The pair had already got what they had fetched there.

Taehyung followed his friend out into the street and back to his friend's house, his hands never stopped shaking as he fought a smile all the way there.

***

It was hard to tell who was more nervous on the way to the doctor's office, but Hoseok and Jimin had already settled for the fact that they had a job to do. As hard as it was to believe how easily and quickly Taehyung's mother had agreed to help, neither friend could deny that this was exactly what they wanted.

They both tried to have a neutral conversation with her to try to calm her down, or at least make her think of other things so as not to be even more nervous about the examination she was going to have.

The doctor was at his desk typing something into his computer when they entered, but he immediately stopped what he was doing and stood up when he saw them. The man glanced at his watch and then smiled, thinking that the two young men had managed to convince the woman faster than he had imagined, but deciding not to comment. He didn't want to change the woman's mind.

"Do you know why you're here, Mrs. Lee?" Asked the doctor, looking away from her to Jimin and Hoseok and then back to her as he waited for the answer.

"You will examine me," the woman replied in a calm, firm voice. If she was nervous, as Jimin and Hoseok knew she was, she didn't want to show it to the doctor, or maybe it wasn't the examination that made her nervous. "You'll record all my injuries and bruises in a report that I can use to report who did this to me."

Her eyes met those of Jimin, who nodded, then Hoseok's, who grinned. Neither of them had mentioned it, but it seemed she knew she didn't need to mention who was guilty and innocent in the whole story. After all, the woman had seen the news and knew exactly what version the whole population was listening to. She was unwilling to cause further confusion until her son's friends had enough to acquit him.

"Are you ready then?" The doctor asked. When she answered with a nod, he asked her to accompany him to the small room next door, where he examined the patients. He asked her to take off most of her clothes and took some instruments while she did as he asked, the doctor's gaze on her expressing nothing but professionalism and concern.

If it was impressive to see how many marks she had on her body when she was dressed, the boys would have made many disgusted faces if they had seen her at that moment. It was not just her face and arms that had bruises and cuts, but her whole body.

When Taehyung's mother was dressed only with her underwear, she finally looked down at the counter and realized that there was a camera along with utensils the doctor had put there. She widened her dark eyes almost involuntarily, completely amazed at the possibility of being photographed like that.

“No. Please don't be surprised!" The doctor exclaimed quickly, extending both hands to her with his palms facing forward to show that he would do nothing. "I want to ask your permission to photograph the wounds."

As she blinked twice but said nothing, with both hands still covering her breasts, the doctor went on.

"I'm not a coroner. I want to help and I will do my best, but the exam that I am going to take cannot be considered a forensic medical examination. It can, however, be used by a coroner as a support for a forensic examination, and as we don't know when a coroner will be called upon to examine you, or how many of these injuries and bruises you will still have by then or what they will look like, I need to be thorough."

"Are you saying your exam won't make any difference to the investigation?" Mrs. Lee asked with her expression finally changing from startled to confused as the frown replaced her wide eyes.

"I'm saying my exam may be the exam used by the coroner if some bruises have already left your body when you meet the coroner," he replied and then was surprised when he received the shadow of a mocking smile from her.

"I'm not sure if this is a possibility," Taehyung's mother said more to herself than to the man who stared at her.

She was not mocking the situation. She would not dare to mock the beatings she had taken in recent years or the marks, visible or not, that the beatings had left on her body and mind. But she couldn't help but find the doctor's suggestion that the marks could disappear to be naive. She had been living with it long enough to know that the bruises were slow to display all their profusion of color and tone mix until they finally disappeared. In fact, usually when they disappeared, others replaced them. Mrs. Lee had a hard time remembering what her skin was like without the marks, or what it was like to lie on the pillow at night without crying before falling asleep.

"That's where the camera comes in," continued the doctor as if the woman had said nothing. "If I photograph everything and attach the photos to the report, the coroner will have a more specific and realistic view of how you are now and will be able to attach everything to the report itself for the expert and the police. Then the evidence against the perpetrator will be even more concrete."

Mrs. Lee saw in the doctor's eyes who he thought had assaulted her like that. She saw that and was filled with indignation, but made an effort to control herself. Arguing with the doctor who was trying to help her would be of no benefit. Then she focused on the words of Jimin and Hoseok, who were waiting for her on the other side of the door. They were doing their best to exonerate her son and needed her help.

She needed to work hard. She had waited until that moment to face her fears and to help her son. This time, keeping quiet and letting herself be examined might be more useful than speaking.

Then she nodded as the man took the camera again and took pictures of most of her wounds and bruises. He brought the camera closer to her skin but barely touched it. After that, he looked at each bruise from various angles and touched them lightly, earning a few moans and pained expressions from the woman. The man mumbled as he continued his examination and wrote in a small notebook he had left on the counter, but Mrs. Lee could understand nothing but a few words: "dark," "sensitive," "recent," "a week" were some examples.

She stopped paying attention. She didn't need his words to know that she had very purple bruises from the night before, some that had already begun to lighten, but still had a strong shade of yellow that indicated they weren't that old, and others that could hardly be seen. All of them still ached, and she could almost remember the moments when they had been made. Almost because, in fact, many of the beatings were so similar that she sometimes confused them.

The doctor finished examining the bruises and moved on to the wounds. Most were small cuts made by strokes. Some, near the eyes and lips, had obviously been made by punches, but when they ached and burned, they were not so different from those in her legs and arms. In fact, after the doctor examined them, she herself realized that the ones on her face seemed more open, since the skin was more sensitive, but they were not so deep.

She herself had never stopped to think so much about her wounds. Taehyung used to do that, which is why he was so angry with his stepfather when that sort of thing happened. That's why he had such a hard time accepting the situation his mother was in.

When she felt a tear roll down her face, she forced herself to think of something else. It wasn't her job to brood over those feelings and regrets. This was the doctor's job, who despite the babbling, remained focused. Her job at that moment was just to let him examine her. She had finally found a chance to help her son and had grasped it bravely, trying to ignore the chills it caused her. That was what mattered, nothing more.

The silence, however, lasted short. She bit her tongue quickly trying to stifle the scream she couldn't stop but it only turned it into a moan. The doctor had raised her right arm over her head. She didn't understand why, as she had stopped paying attention to what he was doing, but the sharp pain that engulfed her upper arm brought her attention back to him.

Wide-eyed, the doctor jerked away. "What happened here?" he asked.

Taking a deep breath to try to get used to the pain, she lowered her arm again and almost managed to shrug. What had happened to her arm anyway? A baseball bat or a push against the wall of the house? She didn't remember exactly what had made it start to hurt like that, she just knew it had been that way for a while.

At her vague answer, the doctor examined her aching arm a little further and she managed not to scream again, though she was panting when he was done.

It was not long before the two returned to the office where Jimin and Hoseok were and where they both covered Taehyung's mother with questions as they realized how pale she was while the doctor accurately typed in his report and added the photos he had taken to the file.

The man saved a copy on his computer, as he did with all his patients' files, but handed over an envelope with the printout of the written report and the photos in Mrs. Lee's now shaking hands.

Then they said goodbye to the doctor, who was now satisfied that he had done his duty to help the woman who had obviously been mistreated for much longer than he had imagined.

Jimin and Hoseok remained concerned even after the color began to return to Mrs. Lee's face (the good color, not the purplish bruising one), and made sure to accompany her to her husband's room even when she said several times that it was not necessary. They walked slowly beside her and made no comment on the times she had to stop to breathe before she continued walking, and when she stopped in front of the hospital room door to look at them with a loving smile on her bruised face. Neither of them could, nor did they want to avoid smiling back.

"I'm very happy to hear that my son has friends as good as you," she said and handed Hoseok the envelope the doctor had given her. The young man held it carefully while his friend answered.

"He deserves even more than that, Mrs. Lee."

They knew she was still in pain after the exam, which although they hadn't seen it had obviously been difficult, so they didn't try to hug her, but they felt very proud when they kissed her cheek at the same time and made her smile again.

Using this as a farewell, the two waited for the woman to enter the room to move away and walk quietly to the hospital entrance before opening the envelope and reading what the doctor had written. Jimin's almond-shaped eyes were wide as he turned his head to find Hoseok smiling at him.

The doctor had recorded everything in detail, including the fact that Taehyung's mother had injuries just a few weeks or months earlier. The man suspected that Taehyung had caused these injuries and did not seem to have changed his mind when he handed the report into Mrs. Lee's hands, but now the boys knew that he had not stopped to analyze what he was writing while he bothered to report everything. Because if Taehyung had been in jail for the past three years, something that all jailers could attest to, how could he have injured his mother just a few months earlier?

Jimin and Hoseok replaced the report and photos inside the envelope and carefully closed it before leaving. With or without such a forensic medical examination by a coroner, the report was enough to show that Taehyung's stepfather was lying when accusing him of Mrs. Lee's injuries.

***

Meanwhile, just as Seokjin had thought, Yoongi and Jungkook saw the gesture he made with his hand as he approached the counter, and set off. They had researched the building a little before and knew that the front door was not the only entrance.

They had prepared, of course, with Namjoon's help for what they knew they would find. On the side of the police file center building was a little-used door that served more as an emergency exit than anything else, but it was a direct entrance to the shed where the evidence was stored. They got all this information and a copy of the master card that was needed to open that door with Namjoon, who had already broken into the police file before. But the hacker had not imagined when he entered the public system before, that he would need this information later to save a friend.

As they pushed the heavy iron door on the side of the building together, they knew they were right about something else too: because it was lunchtime (and they had chosen to arrive there at that specific time on purpose), the woman who was completely enchanted by Seokjin at that moment was the only person there.

Since the warehouse was not a police station and did not have the same functions as one, it did not have to have the same number of officers working together, and when lunchtime came, most of them would leave and only one or two would stay to attend the public if necessary. After all, it was just an hour of lunch.

But one hour was enough for two young men like Yoongi and Jungkook to find what they needed. After all, they were not like any other youth and had acquired some interesting skills in their teens, and had learned some things from Namjoon. Not to mention that, fortunately to them, it wasn't two cops who were working at the file center at lunchtime that day, but only one, and at that moment she was so enchanted by their friend that she wouldn't even notice if Yoongi really burned it all down.

They soon found the main warehouse area and entered. It was because of this place that the building appeared to be a shed from the outside, because it was actually a shed from the inside, too, that the police department had partially transformed to house all its evidence of closed and open cases, whether solved or not.

The pair spent a few moments just looking at the large shelves over five meters high where evidence boxes and folders were located. Yoongi raised an eyebrow as he raised his head to see how far the shelves were going, wondering how the police expected to reach upstairs, but lowered it with a shake of his head when he saw a ladder as high as the shelves.

Jungkook was the first to move, and it was not long before he found a computer on a small white table near the door, almost hidden behind a rack of boxes. He promptly went back to the door, called for Yoongi, and made him sit in the padded chair in front of the computer.

He was more agitated than his older friend (in fact, probably anyone in town was more agitated than Min Yoongi, but Jungkook wouldn't start a discussion on this matter voluntarily) and he knew that the other would be annoyed if he had to figure out the filing system of the shed and to search folder by folder until he found the evidence of the theft case that Taehyung had been charged with and convicted three years earlier. So, the youngest made sure Yoongi was comfortably typing commands into the computer before starting to search for what he wanted among the shelves.

Yoongi didn't even grumble a complaint when the younger one did it, because he was already wondering what was going on in his head. He was slightly grateful for his friend's consideration when he began to search the digital files of the theft case, but of course he would not admit it.

Jungkook thought it would make more sense if everything was stored by date or last name of the accused. It was a simple, easy-to-follow logic for those who have been working on it for years as well as for novices, and the police intended to make it easier for police officers across the city to access those archives, not to fool curious intruders. Mainly because they didn't believe any curious intruders would get to that warehouse with the cops in the front room. Of course, they were not prepared to deal with those intruders specifically, but Jungkook shrugged as he began searching for the date Taehyung had been charged with theft.

As he passed the shelves, he wondered how well Taehyung was holding up, even though he was only two years older than Jungkook himself, the youngest of the group. Of course, he had been overwhelmed and wept with his friends in the morning when they found him sleeping alone in the abandoned building, but who wouldn't do it while taking on so much pressure. If it were with him, Jungkook thought, he would have tried to unload his emotions by punching something, or someone.

He realized that he was right about the evidence storage criteria and that they were archived by date and by name. He followed the very large "K" he found near the date of the robbery and then found a folder where he could clearly read "Kim Taehyung."

He glanced around to make sure Yoongi was still busy searching the digital evidence of the case among the files saved on the computer, and then opened the folder. Taehyung hadn't told them much about the theft charge and the police investigation because he didn't know much about it himself. All he knew was that he had been accused of stealing the house of the family that had hired him to graffiti a wall, and the police seemed to have sufficient irrefutable evidence that the lawyer, who the state provided because Taehyung could not afford one, had not much to do to defend him, even though he was innocent.

So Jungkook thought it was worth taking a look at such irrefutable evidence that the police had against his friend to know what they were dealing with. After all, there was a big difference that tipped the balance a little more to Taehyung's side this time. Unlike the state attorney who had allegedly tried to defend him three years earlier, all his friends trusted him completely and would do everything they could to exonerate him. After meeting and spending a year together in the reform school, neither of them had reason to lie to others, just as neither of them was willing to go around judging the others. They knew each other's character.

The first pages in the folder were pages of printed reports that had been written by the officers who worked on the case. The young man knew that Namjoon and the other boys would want to carefully analyze every word of those reports, so he turned the pages carefully.

Soon he found what appeared to be a transcript of a telephone call, which he read more carefully, line by line. He frowned when he realized what that transcript meant. Taehyung had been denounced by an alleged witness who quite conveniently did not want to identify himself, but reported seeing the tall young man with brown hair and almost black eyes entering the house after finishing the graffiti on the wall and leaving with a box of jewelry that belonged to the housekeeper.

Jungkook pursed his lips to a thin line. That was a big lie, because Taehyung had never entered that house. Taehyung himself had told them this, and once again, they had met in the reform school, where most of them were not innocent of the charges that had brought them there. Taehyung had no reason to lie and didn't like to do it, not even when he needed to.

But Jungkook kept looking at the documents in the briefcase, calming his own explosive temper with the thought that these people didn't know Taehyung as well as he did. It was one of the things Jimin had taught him to do to avoid the urge to want to settle things violently.

He found no evidence, or even a hint that such a stolen jewelry box had been found among Taehyung's belongings, even though he knew and read from the record that his friend's house had been carefully searched by the police.

By the time he reached the last sheet of the folder, Jungkook already believed that he would find nothing as relevant as the transcript of the anonymous denunciation call, and almost didn't read what was written on it. But thanks to Namjoon's insistent recommendation that they be thorough, it was just almost. His pretty eyes widened so much that they were almost perfectly round as they ran through the sheet.

All the information about a video on the evidence list was recorded, including date, time, duration, even the folder, code and name of the video file that was saved in the police database with an acronym, which indicated to which case the case belonged. In addition, from what Jungkook could see in the record, he had been sent just as the call that denounced his friend had been made. It had not been taken from the database of the security camera company that the stolen family hired, but sent anonymously.

Jungkook's once wide eyes suddenly narrowed. How had the police not found this strange and not investigated further? It was as if they didn't want to discover the truth behind what was obviously a frame. Because it was clear that it was a frame, and Jungkook didn't think so just because he was Taehyung's friend and wanted to get him free of the charges.

He closed the briefcase with a quick flick of his hand and didn't even think before turning and hurrying along the corridor. He had no way of making any copies of those files and he knew his friends would want to see them, so he couldn't just put them back in place. In addition, he needed to show Yoongi that last page to help him find the video in the database. Because, Jungkook thought with a smile on his face, they could make a copy of the video and save it on a flash drive for Namjoon to watch it later.

As he approached Yoongi, however, Jungkook noticed that his friend's eyes were glued to the computer screen, already observing every detail of the video that was described in the folder. He knew it was the same file thanks to the name and code that appeared at the top of the screen.

Since Yoongi did not look away, even though he realized that his friend was beside him, Jungkook observed the monitor as well, noting that there was no sign indicating that it had been recorded by a security camera and that it didn't even indicate the date and time of the recording, as this type of file usually contained.

Without saying a word, the two friends watched what was left of the video, which showed the outside of a very beautiful and elegant house, focusing on the front door and a path that looked more like a garage cutting through a beautiful, but simple garden. When, after a few moments, the recording showed a person carefully walking out the front door of the house holding a small box with both hands, Yoongi frowned and Jungkook moved closer.

The image was a little out of focus, perhaps because of how far away the person was from the camera, but they could see the size of the box, which they knew to be a jewel case because of the accusations and file Jungkook still held tightly. It was strange because the image looked slightly less blurred in the hands than in the thief's face, but the face that appeared on the screen was Taehyung's.

The duo didn't question that. It would be even stranger if there was no evidence pointing directly to Taehyung as the thief, especially because of the incredible speed with which everything happened to get him arrested in the reform school. For that very reason, those two were already hoping to find something more incriminating in the police records.

But that didn't stop Yoongi from squinting in the direction of the video while the screen image showed Taehyung looking at the camera proudly, as if he knew he was being filmed and that was exactly what he wanted. This was not Kim Taehyung's way at all, Yoongi knew well, but that was not what he was paying attention to.

Since the image was more blurred in his eyes, Yoongi gave his full attention to the thief's hands, which were the only things besides his face that were not fully covered on that obviously hot day. As much as Yoongi seemed not to pay attention to things around him most of the time, he was actually very observant. He just didn't like to show it. Nor did he show at that moment, not even to Jungkook that was right next to him, for they would both have time to discuss this when they joined the others.

Because Yoongi was sure they would all be very interested in discussing how the hands holding the box looked bigger and grosser than Taehyung's beautiful hands, even though the face in the video evidence was his. The graffiti artist's fingers were long, but nowhere near as hardened as shown in the video.

The pair left after that, with the evidence folder on Jungkook's firm hand and a copy of the video saved on a flash drive that Yoongi carried in his back pocket. They walked to the car without looking back and waited for Seokjin inside as they controlled the unrest caused by the work done.

***

It was late when everyone managed to get back to Namjoon's house, so it was no surprise when they decided to spend the night there. Also, after their seemingly productive day, Taehyung's friends wanted to cheer him up again, ignoring the problem and spending the night as if all was well.

Since everyone was excited about what they had achieved during the day, the subject was basically about what had happened to each group. Namjoon and Taehyung told about the videos they had found at the security company, Jimin and Hoseok talked about Taehyung's mother and the help they received from his stepfather's doctor (in addition to complimenting Taehyung's mother for being so brave and beautiful, despite the injuries), Seokjin told how he managed to distract the policewoman and still get her phone number (which generated some jokes and innuendo), and Yoongi and Jungkook told about the evidence they got from the police file center.

It was the information Yoongi and Jungkook gave about the video they found that caught the most attention and made the others find it very suspicious, but it was Namjoon who expressed their friends' thoughts.

“Why would the police use an anonymously sent video if they could just get the original video from the security company?” Namjoon asked, but received only a shrug as response.

As if it were a movie night, as everyone was relaxed at the time and very interested in what they were going to watch, Namjoon played the video that Yoongi and Jungkook found in the police database. It didn't take long for him and his friends to realize, just as Yoongi had already realized when he first watched the video, that the video was tampered with.

Because they saw the original videos from the security company, Namjoon and Taehyung noticed something in the police video that Yoongi didn't notice but suspected. The images were all in the original videos, but not as they should be. In the video sent anonymously to the police, the man who came out of the stolen house with the jewelry box in his hands had Taehyung's face when looking at the camera, but Namjoon and Taehyung knew that that face was not in that part of the video. In fact, that face was in the other video, the original video of the wall where Taehyung had graffiti. Whoever sent that video to the police had gotten their hands on the original videos and mixed them together, making it look like Taehyung had stolen the jewelry box when in fact he had never entered the house.

After explaining this to his friends, Namjoon added a note about finding out who sent the video to the police. Understanding nothing, his friends asked how he would do that.

“Just as I'm going to trace the origin of the anonymous call you found transcribed in the case file,” he replied, but it still seemed a mystery to his friends.

Knowing that it would be much harder to explain than to do, Namjoon didn't go into too much detail, he simply grabbed his own computer and started opening some programs that showed a bunch of code that no one else understood but him.

That ended the night for everyone. Maybe it was because they were full of adrenaline as they did everything they needed to do to get the evidence to help Taehyung, and when they finally relaxed they were exhausted, but they all fell asleep fast and each lay in a corner, sleeping scattered around Namjoon's house, who was the longest awake, as he was fiddling with his computer trying to find the origin of the anonymous video and call.

The next day, when everyone woke up, including Namjoon, who was the last to wake up for he had been much of the night working on the video and call research, it was obvious that none of them had anything to do until Namjoon was able to finish his research. So, they had breakfast and each went their own way. Hoseok, Jimin and Jungkook went to their homes, Seokjin and Yoongi went to work, and Namjoon called to let his boss know he was missing the day, and then stuck to the computer again. Taehyung was the only one who stayed at Namjoon's house even though he had nothing to do.

He had spent the entire day before in the street, exposed to the curious eyes of others who could recognize him at any moment. So, it was decided that he would be hiding that day.

Fighting boredom, Taehyung tried to do several things while waiting for Namjoon to finish what he was doing. First, he tried to understand what Namjoon was doing by watching him work. But it was clear that he could see his friend on the computer all day (or his whole life) and not understand how his friend's head worked, much less the program he was using, or the codes he was typing.

Then he decided to fight his conscience to call his mother to find out how she was feeling after the exam his friends had asked her to do. Like his friends, Taehyung was pleased and proud that his mother had the courage to do it for him, but he was also sad that she had to go through another suffering before it was all over. Unfortunately, as he had arranged with his friends when they first met at Namjoon's house, Taehyung should keep his cell phone off to prevent police from using GPS to locate him.

Without many options, Taehyung tried to watch some TV at low volume so as not to disturb his friend, but he found he did not want to see his face plastered behind journalists who knew nothing of the truth and accused him of being violent and fugitive.

Finally, he gave up on anything and took out a notebook and pencil to draw on. While Namjoon was concentrating on the computer, Taehyung made several drawings in the notebook he had found on Namjoon's desk. Some of the drawings were of old graffiti he had made before he was sent to the reform school, other drawings were of graffiti he wanted to have made before going to the reform school, but one particular drawing was what he had decided to do after go to the reform school.

After meeting his friends, Taehyung began to create in his head an image he would love to create to put on a very large wall. Finally, he had the opportunity to draw what was on his mind: seven young friends talking and having fun. This was Taehyung's new family and he didn't regret at all how it had been formed. He could only be grateful for having it at that moment.

It was only in the evening that Taehyung ceased to feel lonely even though he was at home with his friend. Namjoon finally finished his research and was resting, so Taehyung prepared ramen for both of them and they sat together to talk.

As much as he wanted to ask what Namjoon had discovered, Taehyung knew that his friend would not want to tell the same story twice, so he would have to wait until everyone else arrived to know his answer. The closer they came to revealing the truth, the more Taehyung felt excited again. If everything went as his friends said it would, he could soon see his mother and live a quiet life as he had not lived for a long time.

Fortunately, the other five arrived not long after, with Jimin and Jungkook bringing food to the others coming straight from work. They wanted so much to hear the news, understand and reveal the truth, that they didn't even think about stopping somewhere to eat, they already called the younger ones for help.

When everyone was sitting in the room, fed and rested, Namjoon decided it was time to explain what he had done and how. In fact, he would not explain exactly how he had tracked the video and the call, since none of his friends would understand what he was talking about. But he would be as accurate and clear as possible in his speech.

“As you know,” he began, and everyone was silent paying attention (no one wanted to lose any part because they might not understand the rest), “the video was sent anonymously to the police, just as the call was made to them." Everyone nodded. “First, I'll explain how I managed to find the caller.”

Then followed an almost endless monologue. Namjoon's friends were so afraid of missing some detail of what he was explaining that they dared not ask any questions.

Almost without stopping to breathe, Namjoon explained that the call, despite being identified as anonymous, had a phone address (“almost like an IP address,” he explained to those who knew a bit more of computers than the others). All lines can be tracked as long as the call takes long enough for the tracking program to run, which happened in the denunciation call against Taehyung. Once Namjoon had found the address of the public telephone from which the call was made, he had no problem breaking into the city's camera system and pulling up the files from the date the call was made to see who had used the phone that day. After getting the image of the person's face, Namjoon ran a program that was linked to the civil identification system and quickly found the name, address, and identity of the person who made the call. With the name of the person in hand, it was not so complicated to find the person's private telephone and get the conversations by message and the calls exchanged between the person who made the denunciation call and someone who could incriminate Taehyung.

"Are you saying that in what, less than 24 hours you were able to link the person who made the anonymous call to Tae's stepfather?" Seokjin asked, wide-eyed just like the other boys, who were also gaping.

"In less than 12 hours," Namjoon replied with a shrug, "I did that last night."

Since no one asked another question like that, Namjoon thought everyone had understood and accepted the fact that he was very fast, and continued with his explanations, this time about how he had tracked who sent the video.

What Namjoon didn't know was that no one there had understood how he had done it so fast. It seemed extremely complex that he had access to all those systems and made such fast searches. But then Namjoon's friends remembered that he had been doing this for a long time and that when the police caught him for breaking into their system, he had already broken into several other systems around the city. He probably still remembered how to do that, or still had some kind of hidden access stored on his computer.

Namjoon's explanation of video tracking didn't seem as unlikely as call tracking, but it was just as absurd. According to Namjoon, the flash drive he inserted into the security company's computer to copy the original videos had a virus that he himself had created and put on the flash drive. By the time he connected the USB flash drive to the company's computer, the virus was in charge of replicating all of the company's system information, including online server network access passwords. Since he had already noticed that the person who sent the video to the police had actually tampered with the original videos, he simply accessed the security company files with the passwords he had copied and found out who had access to the original videos. That was when Taehyung's stepfather's involvement in the situation became even clearer.

“The truth is, the police went looking for the original videos,” Namjoon explained, lowering his voice as if someone could hear them through the thick walls. This was, in fact, a reflection of his discovering on Lee Minsuk's most important secret and the key to Taehyung's exoneration. “But who got these videos from the company was Lee Minsuk.”

"My stepfather?" Taehyung asked in amazement.

"But there's no claim to that in the case report," Jungkook intervened, amazed that something had happened and no one had registered.

"That's because he did something for the cops to forget about the original videos and his involvement in the case," Namjoon explained. "We have no way of knowing what it was or how he did it, but he did, and any jury or judge will come to that conclusion after seeing the company records saying it was him who took the videos."

"So, he was the one who tampered with the images?" Hoseok questioned.

"Not really," Namjoon replied, cracking a smile that let the others see his dimples. “Like I said, I have all the phone and message records of the caller who, believe it or not, was the same person who tampered with the video.”

"Did Lee Minsuk hire someone to incriminate Tae and was stupid enough to leave evidence against himself?" Yoongi asked, chuckling mockingly. “There really is no hope for the police in this city anymore.”

"Maybe he didn't know," Namjoon argued, speaking low again. “The messages I retrieved had been deleted. Perhaps he thought that by erasing the records on the phone, he could do the same on the phone company server registry. But he doesn't know this is no use and that all companies keep track of the last five years of all phones.”

"Glad he only got three years in prison, then," Jimin joked, making everyone laugh, including Taehyung who was extremely relieved to have his friends helping him out like that.

"Now we just need to figure out a way to send this to the authorities so they can reopen both cases and acquit Taehyung," Hoseok added. He was more than eager to contact his lawyer to begin the process of acquitting Taehyung.

"Wait a minute!" Jungkook almost shouted, getting up to place his two legs crossed under his body on the couch where he was already sitting. “How are we going to send this to the authorities if we can't trust the police? Because after all this tampered evidence, and they didn't even take Tae's mom's testimony about what happened at the house, even when she found Lee Minsuk there, we can't believe they'll do the right thing.”

Seokjin thought of the policewoman who was so enchanted by him that she forgot to watch the warehouse camera. Of course, that was exactly what he wanted, but it was another indication that they couldn't trust the police, not even the cops who wanted to do the right thing.

"I don't think we can count on your lawyer this time, Hoseok," Namjoon said before anyone else gave any opinion, because no one would deny that Jungkook was right. Neither of them was willing to risk letting the police tamper with the evidence again.

"But why...?" Hoseok asked.

"Because he won't be able to use any of our evidence," Namjoon replied, looking sad but resigned. “All of our evidence is authentic, but almost all of it was obtained in ways… let's say… well, illegal. With the exception of Mrs. Lee's examination and the complaint she promised to make, we broke into places and systems to get everything else. The lawyer cannot rely on stolen evidence, and he will not be able to do anything without it.”

“So, we're back to square one. We've got it all, but we can't use it, and meanwhile Taehyung is still being sought and that news is being relentlessly repeated on the news,” Seokjin said.

"Maybe not," Jimin said suddenly. His eyes were a little unfocused and he didn't seem to be looking at any of his friends, or anything specific to tell the truth. Jimin seemed to be in another world as he spoke, several possibilities running through his head, but when all eyes turned to him and no one said a word, he knew he must explain what he was thinking.

"Maybe we're not back to square one," Jimin said again. “Maybe we can use one of the weapons Lee Minsuk used against Taehyung. Of course, we're not going to tamper with anything, and we don't even have to, but let's make everyone realize what we perceive, that Tae is innocent and the previous evidence is false.”

"And how do you suggest we do that?" Yoongi asked.

"We can divulge it," Jimin replied with a shrug. “On the internet and on some television station. They accept almost anything as long as it's a good story.” Jimin saw that everyone else was slightly widened, but as they said nothing, he continued. “We can send a note explaining what we want to do and we don't have to say who we are. They also accept it if it's anonymous, as long as the content is good and not a lie.”

“This will make someone, if not everyone, more interested in a second investigation and perhaps this time the police will investigate properly and use the right evidence. Or maybe they'll even have another team investigate, a team that is not close to Taehyung's stepfather and is not influenced by him. There must be someone honest and competent in the police,” Hoseok said as soon as he realized what Jimin wanted to do with that plan.

They all smiled at each other. That was a good plan. It wasn't exactly what they wanted, especially since it would take Taehyung some time to be completely cleared, but for them, what mattered most was that their friend wouldn't end up behind bars.

They got up and prepared everything that would be needed. Namjoon wrote a brief note indicating what this was all about, and the others packed their evidence: copies of the files in the police evidence folder, flash drives with the original and tampered videos.

Before doing what they had just agreed to, Jimin called Taehyung's mother, wanting to explain to her what they would do and how it would help her son, which he knew Mrs. Lee wanted with all her strength. Once more surprised by the woman's courage, Jimin heard Mrs. Lee say that she didn't care how they would acquit her son as long as it happened. As if it were a prize for the woman's courage and kindness, Jimin let her and Taehyung talk (conversation that lasted more than half an hour due to the emotion of the two interlocutors), and Mrs. Lee agreed with her son that, as soon as the news with the information Taehyung's friends found came out in the media, she would go to the nearest police station and file the complaint against her husband.

Within hours everything was delivered to the studio door of a major television station, the one that was responsible for the most watched news in the country, the same one Lee Minsuk had used to spread the word about Taehyung.

The seven friends huddled in Namjoon's living room to watch the evening news, some even with fingers crossed in anticipation, and they felt a mixture of satisfaction and disbelief as they heard the reporters talking about the evidence they had sent.

Some footage of the video the station had received was broadcast on TV as reporters inquired about the truth and what was really going on in this case, which they now realized seemed to begin three years earlier, or even more, judging for Mrs. Lee's injuries that the doctor's report indicated. Reporters did not know where the evidence had come from, or whether it was true or legal, but they released it nonetheless, inciting (almost demanding, in fact) a further investigation. Almost exactly as Jimin had imagined would happen.

The young man was right about the population too, he realized. As the days went by, the population itself put pressure on the police, who assigned another team to reinvestigate Taehyung's case, now linking the three-year-old theft case with the current assault, involving all abuses of Lee Minsuk.

The seven friends could still hardly believe that they had finally been able to do justice when they saw policeman Lee Minsuk being handcuffed by his honest colleagues into a car.

Well, he was no longer a cop now, since he lost his badge. He had been found guilty of all charges, including harassment, personal injury, obstruction of justice, abuse of power, and a few others that Taehyung could not remember the exact words to say. Now Minsuk would serve an even greater sentence than he intended Taehyung to serve when he accused him.

Taehyung, who at that moment was hugging his mother with all his friends surrounding him as they watched his stepfather's arrest, had been cleared of all charges against him, with assault on the police being regarded as a legitimate defense of others. He didn't know before, but the definition of that term was exactly what he had felt and done the moment he used the bottle against his stepfather.

The young man decided not to give any kind of interview when the TV stations that were covering the arrest of the former policeman approached. He didn't need the visibility that could bring him. Now that he had gotten his freedom, he just wanted to enjoy it with his friends and his mother. After all, now that the seven were free and out of trouble, they could finally resume their lives. The right way this time.

[yasumi222]

KILLING STALKING ANALYSIS :D PART UNO

Ayz, u ppl r so nice, luvz :D

And I was thinking for some days already, about that bizarre plotline in the recent chapters, so I came up with theory – or more likely a perspective. I love Killing Stalking – but only psychological aspect of it – the part of investigation is… bad. Real bad. Still, plot holes are there to stick a finger in them. And I have a lot blabbering to do, so I suppose I won’t post it all at once XD Still, I’ll make kinda tl;dr to maybe at least announce what I have in mind and we will see how it goes.

So tl;dr – last chapters are (not 100% aware) Sangwoo suicide attempt, he did not “murder” Chief Kwak, he has inner demon fight – inside his head - Seungbae is something – and I will call it a villain.

And for the beginning – I’ll start with the analyse – what made Sangwoo to be in the situation he is right now, and why he called it upon himself. I’m saying that right now XD ill divide part one in two parts, because it will be long ass shit, and I will be crazy surprised if someone read one part in one go.

I will go for the more juicy plot holes later, after I make a point in that suicide of Sangwoo matter – because – in my opinion it is the opus magnum of that story.

PART I – SANGWOO CHARACTER ANALYSIS

Let’s start with Sangwoo. Within chapters in S3 its vivid that he cares no more about his wellbeing, he is not scared of death – he is scared of one particular way of dying – the painful one. Risky way of driving, talking about his crimes out loud, lack of joy in the thing that should provide some sort of warmness inside his broken heart.

I think Sangwoo after such traumas is divided between two personalities. Either it is some strange dissociative identity disorder, where the split is not fully achieved, but its present, or its very severe case of borderline disorder. Either way - I will assume – that indeed – inside his head lives two characters, which are fighting over leadership. And one of them is 90% of the time victorious. Let’s call him KILLER – that crazy, murderous personality, without empathy, full of himself – absolute and terrible monster. That “Killer” is the one who has hallucinations about his mother, that “Killer” believes he killed not only a mother, but a father too. That “KILLER” was created the day – when his mother put a knife in her throat, and is surviving till today. And that KILLER is the schizophrenic one – who hears bangs on the door, who reacts with aggression with every hallucination that appear. I’m pretty convinced that the first killings from Sangwoo – were not committed with the full sanity of the act. They were not accident, of course, but he was killing over and over his mother - then his mind needed to accustom to such horrific act. And the KILLER matured. Killings were most probably soothing shattered mind, he killed hallucination after hallucination – letting himself for a moment of peace – in such horrific manner.

And Bum was the one, who managed to snap the KILLER out of his mania – with very simple words. I love you. Because if mother of the KILLER was indeed loving him, even after rape, she wouldn’t die. She wouldn’t get the knife inside her throat. She wouldn’t reject him in such disgusting act. She hated him so much, she preferred death over letting herself love him. She would be still alive, alas KILLER wouldn’t be born.

And the KILLER stops. Bum survives.

But stopping the KILLER is way different story than overcoming him. He is pushing every way possible – to force Bum to hate him – testing him, trying him – and still like a child, who kicks his dog – he still expect that the dog will come back – lick his face, wiggle tail in happiness.  It’s not logical. But Sangwoo expect absolute love – even in the face of true terror.

Maybe because he regrets, he didn’t show his love to his mother – even during the most disgusting act – because he loved her unconditionally, and maybe – maybe if he didn’t complain – she would not reject him.

And KILLER is angry when Bum rejects him. But then, try after try, when our fucked up in the head Bum manage to still show his attachment to Sangwoo – the KILLER starts to shine less, and something old – something long forgotten is starting to look at Bum with different eyes. The moment of Bum attempted suicide is crucial moment, when the KILLER is for the moment gone. Hidden. Bum is trying to get rid of himself – not because he do not love Sangwoo – but because Sangwoo is not loving him. And Sangwoo see for the first time – himself in small figure of Bum, he sees that rejected, scared boy, who cries his out eyes, and who is ready to give up his life – not for him, but as an act of rejection of the world without him. Sangwoo for the first time believes Bum – because there is no lie in the blood. There is no lie in the tears.

Sangwoo hurt him. And he is aware of that.

And that Sangwoo – of that moment – is the man who will sustain on doing any harm to his beloved Bum. That is the second persona, who will lose again and again in the battle with the KILLER. But it’s the persona that I love. The persona who tries, and tries. But that persona needs help, needs constant sustain, needs the directions – to learn again how to behave, how to notice others. When I’m in pain – for example – having an headache – I’m really focused about my wellbeing. It’s easier to get upset over someone, because during pain I’m more self-centered. And Sangwoo agony is going on and on and on and on, without any pauses. And him trying to see through his trauma other person is almost impossible – and yet – he tries. Not as a hero, he won’t get any applause for doing that. And – even during tries – he is fully aware he will fail. Again. And again. Victory was never an option.

And we can all agree – KILLING STALKING – shouldn’t have a happy ending. And there was never an intention of getting one - as Koogi showed us. Sangwoo is suicidal. He was, he is and he will be. But there was one thing – the most painful death – that he feared with all his mind, wholesome of his heart. The lonely, painful death. And it was a curse placed upon him. The dagger poking his neck. And he was well aware it will never go away. Then – he asked the only person – which reached his softer, calmer persona for one thing. To die with him. To be with him – even in the most scary moment – to be with him – and in that way – even if he was devoured alive but monsters, drenched in the well, crushed to the bones – he would not die the most painful way. He needed Bum to protect him from alone, dark and scary death. And in that way he would – no matter what – be protected from the curse, that his mother placed upon him.

Still – the perspective of death was not so… vivid back then. It was in front of him, but not clear, close but not too close yet. They were drown in the ceremony of their own bonding, their honeymoon before actual wedding. And I truly believe – he wanted to cherish those moment, but his broken mind was not able to fulfill any boxes of happiness. Dysphoria. Sangwoo lost an ability to feel actual happiness, but still – seeing such joy in the eyes of Bum – forced his own mind to borrow a little of that light. And that was the moment I truly loved Bum. That was his strength that Sangwoo lacked, the ability to still light that fire. Joy. Happiness. Love.

But I can only imagine what an actual feeling that was for Sangwoo. The realization of the hollowness of your own being.

And he was shattering.

And I’d like to think that – the murder of the lady during ski trip – was an actual parallel to the first time – when Sangwoo killed someone. Haunted with the pictures of his mother, with trembling hands, and tears in his eyes – it was not a KILLER who killed her. It wasn’t thought through, it wasn’t calm and ironic. It was madness, absolutely terrifying madness.

And Sangwoo ran. Shattering more and more of the defenses he set years ago. He was naked in his own filthy, murderous self, in his own disgusting, horrid trauma, and drowned in the fear of dying – most painful, most painful, most painful… way…

And he ran to Bum. He cried next to Bum. Even if he didn’t expect him to answer, his presence was his safe place. He believed he won’t be rejected, or maybe at least hoped so. Even if he expected silence – it was the first time – when he – in very clumsy way – reached to Bum for help. Dependence was set hard in the stone. For the first time – Sangwoo was really vulnerable – and in the future – that vulnerability will only grow stronger.

 Thank you if you reached the bottom of that mindsea :) I hope, even if it’s some rambling of anon in the internet – maybe a tiny bit of it was entertaining for you; as it is part one ill try to post second asap :D even if only for myself :’D cheers!

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, KAY! You’ve been accepted for the role of PUCK. Admin Rosey: One of the things I adore most about Puck is how vivid he is. There’s something about him that I believe is difficult to capture -- but when it is done, it’s done so well that you can’t help but feel a little breathless at how beautiful it is. Kay, you absolutely managed to capture him and add wholly new and unconsidered layers to his character. In this application you gave him complex dynamics, new layers, and kept him fun, lively, and chaotic all at the same time. Puck promises to ruin Verona (as if we need more of it -- but we do) and I can’t wait to see you wreak havoc with him on the dash. Be ready to be bombarded, because every single member is going to want in on this fun.. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

out of character

Alias  |  kay Age  |  19 Preferred Pronouns  |  she/her Activity Level  |  6/10 - i’m in my freshman year of college so i only have time to properly write two or three times in a week, a lot more often on weekends. i’m also on discord almost all the time on mobile! Timezone  |  gmt+3 Current/Past RP Accounts  |  my 1x1 blog, a more recent account, and a past one

in character

Character  |  puck, pavel lam!

What drew you to this character? |  i have to admit i’m always drawn towards chaotic characters, and this chaotic neutral crime boy easily caught my attention. i could imagine him tripping over a wire and going ‘oops’ when he accidentally triggers a bomb, i could imagine him running away at the first sight of being committed (to anything and anyone), and with his wicked sense of humor and personality, i feel like he would be a really fun character to play with. not gonna lie, i’m also a sucker for showing the other side of characters, and even though he is all smiles and grins with an easy sense of humor, i also am very interested in things that could trouble him and make him quiver.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character?

FAIR IS FOUL, FOUL IS FAIR: you run from your conscience like you ran away when you shoplifted the first time, heart racing, beat pulsing, throwing yourself forward even though you are out of breath. lies fall from your lips easily, glitter hiding the darkness of the abyss you have ignored for so long. there is only so much you can ignore, so much you can attempt to hide behind a carefully constructed veil. conscience versus pavel, it’s a battle he often wins, perhaps not this time. it’s a pair of innocent eyes staring up at him when his hands are drenched in blood, so familiar to a boy who was also once lost that he freezes on the spot. the question “where is mommy?” sends a foreign chill through his frame, something he hasn’t felt for years. pavel has to face the consequences of his actions, it’s not always just a face behind a trigger, but a family behind it, and seeing it first hand is always different than running away immediately and never seeing how things unfold after a body is found. pavel will run away yet again, but forgetting a pair of eyes may not be as easy.

HARD AND CURLED AND READY TO SNAP: when you pride yourself for complete and utter apathy, it’s not often rumors get under your skin, push all your buttons in the worst way possible, make you grit your teeth and clench your fist that your nails cut into your palm. pavel has always cared too little for what people say to him, what people think of him, but his vanity wins over sometimes, pride is an ugly beast that rears its head when he hears rumors about how he botched one of his first kills. the person in front of him laughs and mocks, and he admires himself for not punching that smug face right then and there. doing so isn’t on the table for the fear of getting on the bad side of a mob, and even though pavel has always resented both of them with the entirety of his being, he knows what to avoid, for the sake of self protection. that doesn’t mean he won’t fight back however, he will find a way… even if it’s through petty words akin to those spoken about him.

LA LUNE NE GARDE AUCUNE RANCUNE: even the word commitment feels like a chain around your neck, “where were you born?” they ask, you shrug, and tell a different story each time you fill their glass with liquor. “do you have any siblings, family?” is another question that is a complete buzzkill, making you shake your head and say there is no need for such empty questions. you despise the people that brought you onto this earth so much that their only saving grace is that you enjoy living so much. those two, however? they deserve nothing, they did nothing. so it is not good news that you hear of them, stumbling into a distant relative who is way too mouthy, you receive word from your mother, which is a shock for completely two reasons. one, you hate her, and two, how isn’t she dead yet? an anchor weighing you down is the least thing you want, especially in this type of profession, and you hate that you need to deal with that also.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? |  yep! i love pain.

in depth ( in-character interview )

— ❝ What is your favorite place in Verona? ❞

   “whenever there is fun—” pavel supplies quite easily, leaning back against his chair, the signature grin on his face never fading. his company seems quite interested in him, and that’s always something he enjoys, so it shouldn’t be a shocker that he is going to take his sweet time. he reaches for the glass of whiskey on the table, swigs the glass slightly though he is all doing it for show, just a little pause before he drops the next line. “right now, you are quite lovely, so how about here? this can be my favourite place.” a charming smile follows, a game of pull and push he has played so many times. it’s only when laughter reaches his ears that he decides to answer it somewhat seriously… as seriously as pavel can.

   “it changes, darling, really —” he tilts his head a bit to the side, purses his lips in thought. such a gorgeous… and chaotic place as verona, it’s hard to pick just one place. “i’d say… twelfth night & the tempest? at night of course, it turns into such a… nice place, it’s always wonderful to dance there and meet new people.” perhaps that doesn’t disclose the entire truth, but he isn’t willing to add anything else either. as night goes on and with more alcohol in his veins, he will soon realize that perhaps the home he built for himself is the place he treasures the most, something he built from scratch. for someone with no origins and no home, pavel is quite proud of his ‘humble’ abode, looking out to the city at night in his balcony, imagining everything that goes on in those dirty streets. a part of him longs to be there, a part of him already thinks of the next job ahead — one thing for sure, he doesn’t have it half bad.

— ❝ What does your typical day look like? ❞

  “well — i usually wake up late, as late as i possibly can.” it’s already late enough already, and pavel has always been fond of the night more than the day. when it comes to his occupation, however, it’s not a complete myth that most of the crime happens at night. in his case, he would say a little more than half of his jobs do take place when it’s dark outside, but it isn’t a necessity to only kill at night — whatever is required of him, he will supply, if they compensate him properly. his tendency to sleep-in, on the other hand, is mostly because he loves being outside when it’s late, when everything takes a different quality, the city bares itself open to the stars and all the secrets flow out. it’s enchanting, and when he isn’t drunk or too busy to go through with a kill, pavel takes time to enjoy it, whenever he can.

 the rest of the day, though, it utterly depends on what he is supposed to be doing, if he needs to gather information on a target, or simply needs to pay the bills, no two days of pavel lam are identical. but there is so much you can disclose over drinks, which is why he continues on, just as lightly. it’s always fun to figure out which identity he will pick up next, which details he will use to embellish his lies. it’s not the most original one this time, but he knows it’s dull enough that no one will question him. “however, if i have morning classes, i have to get up early. it’s torture, i’m telling you —” he shudders as a part of the play, sighing and plopping his face on his hand thats propped up on an elbow on the side of the bar. “then i’ll have classes… i’m looking forward the end of this year, i truly am. part-time work at a coffee shop is hell, but i make do. hopefully with a degree, people will pay me better.” education isn’t something pavel has ever cared about in his life, and the only few times he was in the radius of a college was for a job. he’s always seen it as an unnecessary luxury, empty expectations people await from their children. who needs to waste their lives in schools? look at pavel, he’s doing just fine. food on his table, designer clothes on his back, what else can someone need? he grins as always in the end, swatting his hand alongside the faux frown on his face from seconds before. “and at night… i’ll go to bed. it’s quite dull really.” he usually rubs the blood off of his hands before that but eh, it’s close to the truth, he muses.

— ❝ What has been your biggest mistake thus far? ❞

   a puff of breath leaves his mouth at that, the grin faltering for the shortest of seconds. that’s not a question he has to answer often, and constructing a lie will take slightly longer for that reason. “not buying you another drink?” he asks, tilting his head again as he signs the bartender to fill their drinks. it’s a question that throws him off rhythm, but pavel has worked on a façade for so long that it’s not easy to break it with just one question. he supposes a normal college student could say “the truth is, i had to change majors, wasted a year, my parents were pissed”, and so he does, adding a shrug at the end of it. it’s not easy to admit your mistakes, and it’s even more difficult when you’re pavel lam. one that comes to his mind the most prominently is the fact that he did mess up a job back in the day, let the target get away for a day before he tracked them down and finished the job. it had repercussions from his employer, and getting scolded is easily one of the things he hates the most. unluckily, he had to suck up because he did fuck up, but luckily, he managed to fix his mistake and the employer didn’t mention it to anyone, at least to pavel’s knowledge.

— ❝ What has been the most difficult task asked of you? ❞

   he supposes this also has to do with the story of him being in college, so he easily makes up a lie for that, a frown on his face to go with his story. “there are some difficult assignments, but if you mean in a broader sense… it was to try to follow what was expected of me. it’s a great burden you see, but i suppose i’m fulfilling it now.” it’s such a lie that he fights off a grin — pavel lam couldn’t care less about expectations, following in his parents’ footsteps, for he would be dead right now if he was like either one of them. god forbid. pavel adds mentally, he is much better than they could even dream of being.

  ( as he lies on the bed late at night, the answer to the question comes much easier, when he’s walking the line between being awake and asleep, his mind easily supplies him his first kill, blood spreading on hardwood floors, painting them a darker brown. he remembers the dead pair of eyes looking up at him, and the urgency of how he fled, how his voice trembled as he talked back to his employer about a job well done. he supposes, as quick as his first kill was, his conscience sees it as the most difficult task he ever had to follow. if you ask a sober and awake pavel, however, he’ll decline all of that in a heartbeat. )

— ❝ What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues? ❞

  now, this is the one that seemingly puts him in the most sour mood. he supposes everyone in town speaks about them, it’s impossible not to hear those two names when you live in verona, especially so if you dabble in the more illegal side of things. however, it doesn’t mean pavel likes any of those two mobs, if possible he hates them both absolutely equally. he takes another swig from his drink and displays some of his contempt as he lets out a “why are we talking about them again?” with a little shake of his head. his lies and stories have been going well so far, and even though he won’t break the façade he is playing, the idea of belonging to one of those mobs is enough to make him grumble. only after a second he continues, looking back at the person in front of him. if he could let out all of his thoughts, he would — but then again, self preservation kicks in. you can’t shit-talk those who run the city without getting in trouble. and for that reason and for the sake of not ruining the night, he filters it, he doesn’t trust this person to tell them his actual thoughts. “i’d say the city would be… easier to live in without them.” fucking idiots, he means. i wouldn’t be upset if they dropped off the face of earth, he holds back. instead, he grins again and speaks. “but not that i would know, i usually stick to my studies, my work — and the occasional night out.”

extras

here’s his pinterest board, there’s a mock blog for him here and i have also posted two moodboards there: x, x!

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

“But unlike the novels of Stoker and Shelley, Marx’s account is not only gothic. His descriptions of a blood-drenched and gore-caked mode of production are prescient of horror as we see it in more recent cinema. Whatever these descriptions lack in the sense of morality shared by gothic novelists they make up for in cold rationality.

Marx’s horrors are irredeemable and absolute. When he insists that capitalism is the mode of production that “comes dripping from head to foot, from every pore, with blood and dirt,” he really commits himself, as a gifted writer and a master-stylist, to conveying specifically that kind of horror.

Elsewhere in Capital, when the vampire image returns, narrative emphasis shifts from the bourgeois predator to the exploited worker, and specifically to the worker’s obliterated body:

It must be acknowledged that our labourer comes out of the process of production other than he entered. In the market he stood as owner of the commodity “labour-power” face to face with other owners of commodities, dealer against dealer. The contract by which he sold to the capitalist his labour-power proved, so to say, in black and white that he disposed of himself freely. The bargain concluded, it is discovered that he was no “free agent,” that the time for which he is free to sell his labour-power is the time for which he is forced to sell it, that in fact the vampire will not lose its hold on him “so long as there is a muscle, a nerve, a drop of blood to be exploited.”

The vampire reveals itself only when it is already too late, when the façade of legal niceties turns out to be an evil, Faustian pact, inescapable until the death of either party.

Stylistically important is that quoted material at the end, taken from a description made elsewhere by Friedrich Engels. The quotation from Engels confirms the organic substance of capital, its own expropriated lifeblood, is the insides of the worker.

While Marx frequently draws on the patently gothic imagery of vampires and werewolves, specters and gravediggers, here we can see that his accounts of capital also acquire a taste for human viscera, with sentences chewing their way through bodily gristle:

We may say that surplus value rests on a natural basis, but this is permissible only in the very general sense, that there is no natural obstacle absolutely preventing one man from disburdening himself of the labour requisite for his own existence, and burdening another with it, any more, for instance, than unconquerable natural obstacles prevent one man from eating the flesh of another.

Capitalist accumulation is, as Marx knows, a crime whose most obvious analogue is cannibalism. Born into the wage-relation we are not human subjects. We are only our capacity to work, which means serving up our variously muscular, nervous, and cerebral organs — and consuming those of our friends and families, as well as those of complete strangers.

Gothic descriptions like these are not merely decorative. Instead, they get to the very essence of life under capitalism. They remind us how bodies and brains are mutilated into commodities. Literally, we need only think of the deformations, injuries, and fatalities caused by strained working conditions at every level of capitalist industry, from neurological trauma through to heart attacks, right down to broken bones, amputated limbs, and mass deaths.

Figuratively, every minute and every hour spent in wage labor is another minute and another hour in which our bodies are wired to a vast machine that only lives by draining our life substances.

Life under capitalism is the experience of horror, the irreversible liquefying of human substance and its necrophagic consumption. Like the grim fate of the victims in any given horror film, whose bodies are obliterated beyond all recognition and so frequently ingested by other humans, once our labor succumbs to value that transformation is utterly irreparable. So reflects poet Keston Sutherland in a brilliantly nauseating essay on Marx’s jargon: “All that is meat melts into bone, and vice versa; and no effort of scrutiny, will or heated imagination, however powerfully analytic or moral, is capable of reversing the industrial process of that deliquescence.”

The lesson can be put this way: we all inhabit the same horror story and we should all be intensely revolted by this. But, even if we cannot undo what has already been done, that revulsion might still be a catalyst for revolution. Perhaps this is what Marx was trying to teach us all along with his unique brand of gothic horror.

- Mark Steven, “Reading Marx on Halloween.” Jacobin, October 31, 2018.