#tw fictional background character death

[ratteni-da-rotten]

A Mouse Among Owls? - Chapter 01

Fandom: Murder Drones

Warnings: Background Character Death, accidental baby acquisition

Characters (so far): Serial Designation V, Uzi Doorman

┈┈┈┈

A vibrant yellow cross stared at the small thing on the floor. The feathered beast’s head tilted slightly to the side trying to figure out what it was. She felt her tail gently swishing behind, disturbing the ever-so-frigid snow. Serial Designation V’s thermal sensors detected heat emanating from it, the object’s red-yellow-green colours contrasted against a sea of blue.

Pained and terrified cries were still echoing near her. Their source was a worker who was in the process of dying. The disassembler lacked any care for its pathetic whimpering. In her opinion, their suffering made great background music. Maybe she would record it and add it to her internal audio collection folders so she could listen to it during boredom spells.

There was no need for pity; the gashes inflicted on the lesser drone’s chassis would make it soon go into FATAL ERROR by oil loss. At least, it wouldn’t be a lonely death since the rogue machine would join their fallen peers around them. Dark liquid haphazardly painted the cold surroundings, its tantalising smell as if seducing the killer angel for a taste.

No need to rush things, the workers wouldn’t return to life and flee nor would the winged lass allow any other rival disassembler to steal her sweet spoils. Normally, V would be playing and taunting with the remaining worker on its deathbed but her focus remained on the mysterious item. By reviewing her recent memory files, the metallic beast recalled it had been thrown near her feet when she dove from the sky and attacked the wandering group of toasters.

Perhaps it had been a distraction attempt? SD - V doubted the workers were smart enough for that, they were nothing more than mindless machinery. Maybe their rudimentary AI had come up with the conclusion that less weight meant it could run away faster.

The interesting oval-shaped object was wrapped by a purple and white rabbit-themed blanket, what was once snug around the thing now had noticeably loosed but still concealed the small hidden item’s identity.

She kneeled and leaned forward, both clawed hands on the snowy ground, as if essentially cornering the motionless mystery would improve the inspection. Carefully, a finger-blade lightly tapped the fabric only to feel something solid underneath. V licked her chops and removed the blanket just enough to reveal its contents.

It was like her servos had frozen; even Serial Designation V’s tail stopped dead in the air. Neon purple eyes, hollow and shaking, adorned with stress lines, stared back at her. The stare remained locked into each other’s visors until the nearby sound of sobs stole the smaller robot’s attention. Mangled worker drone carcasses were on full display, and the twin moons’ tender light made their spilt oil gleam beautifully. One had yet to pass away, its off-putting sounds worsening the situation tenfold.

A strangled whine escaped the pill baby’s voicebox, momentarily restraining itself, before scaling into full grating wailing. V’s stringy tail lowered to the ground and curled up around one of her pointy legs, the toxic yellow cross on her visor quickly was replaced by normal drone eyes. The disassembly machine had an unreadable facial expression, her body was as still as a statue except for her quivering claws.

“Shit shit shit shitshitshit,” were the words the murder bot gal started to scream within the confines of her mind. Mind, core, and code began to caterwaul against each other as if trying to bend the rivalling wants to its will by being the loudest.

Drones like her were made to adapt to every environment and situation with the sole goal of completing their mission. Yet this scenario was new; she had no prior experience, and the expected outcome would surely leave a bitter taste in her jaws. What was she supposed to do when every part of her was in conflict?

Serial Designation V’s gaze briefly wandered to the suffering, bleeding, worker not far from them. Its suffering was finally reaching the end, the rogue machine would be of no help if it was dead. The untrained neural network wouldn’t last long if V allowed them to “flee” together, other predatory robots would be attracted by the dark sweet liquid leaking from their wounds. She doubted the thing would even make it very far, a few metres and the drone would undoubtedly collapse back on the polar desert’s cold surface.

“Maybe… maybe I could just leave it he–”, the usually fierce disassembly machine shook her head. Starvation would claim the tiny aluminium infant, a drawn-out demise if not found by others, and terribly agonising for a being who isn’t familiar with neglected hunger pangs. Stabbing through its CPU would be quicker and, hopefully, less painful. Furthermore, it was unlikely another disassembler would terminate the thing if they stumbled on it. “Too little oil, not worth the effort,” they would probably think to themselves.

V lifted a single, trembling, sharp blade ready to spear through the artificial baby’s visor. Seconds passed by, the deadly claws hovering over its smaller form, and she couldn’t compel herself to do what was supposed to be her job. The ferocious hunter, the one who enjoyed prolonging her prey’s misery and experimenting with how much damage it could sustain before permanently shutting down, was reluctant to tear a UNN to shreds. If other squads became aware of this, they would surely crack up at this fact.

Poor thing was crying its speakers out, scrunched LED eyes, wiggling erratically on the ground. So utterly defenceless, they couldn’t even try to turn tail as it lacked any limbs, under the claws of an oilfeeder. Looking closely at the thing, it resembled the– Nope, not thinking about that right now!

No living being stays young forever, untrained neural networks get older and moult from their infantile shape. When this one achieved the milestone, it would die by her claws or by her teammates. And if the pill drone died before that due to someone else’s actions, that would still be alright. V will turn a blind eye, as long it isn’t her fault.

SD - V swapped her claws back to her ordinary hands and gingerly cradled the robot infant close to her chest. The embrace was warm, so different from Copper-9’s freezing winds. For that moment the taller being’s fans were audible to the pill drone, the proximity allowed so. Her cries decreased in intensity, the gentle back rubbing and the ceasing of death gurgles lulled the tiny one into quietness. Bawling took a toll on the pill baby, making it enter SLEEP MODE. Dormant in a monster’s arms, killer of her kind, it was comforting nonetheless.

[infinityyrp]

Muse List: Teen wolf 🐺

☆Sundina Gloriana Deaton-Villanueva (TW/BTVS/shadowhunters OC)

☆Mieczyslaw 'Stiles' Stilinski

☆Isaac Lahey

☆Kira Yukimura

☆Malia Hale

☆Vernon Boyd

☆Romeo Bennett (TW/TVD OC)

RULES and what I'm looking for:

☆Always looking for partners.☆

•25+ MDNI.

•All Muses 21+, mature and dark themes will be present. Looking for MXF or FxF Roleplays, with me in the F role for mxf: I NO LONGER DOUBLE UP! I PREFER THE FEMALE ROLE DUE TO UNFORTUNATE EVENTS OF PARTNERS NOT BEING EQUAL AND TAKING ADVANTAGE OF ME AND MY MALE MUSES.

☆My Muse for my OC is always high: Replies, posts, and starters for her will be rapid fire. Medium-high activity.

♧My Muse for my cannon characters vary: so that means replies, posts, and starters for them will vary. Medium-Low activity.

•Looking for a partner to play as Derek Hale and Scott McCall: I am okay with Genderbent!F Muses for them as well! (If you need ideas for FC's I have a few in mind.) Please actually enjoy it and want to play them as well. It's not fun for anyone if both parties don't enjoy it.

•Looking for Clark Kent from Superman and Lois:

•Looking for a Faith Lehane from BTVS: My main OC has a slayer verse. She was a potential slayer (unfound) and when Willow did the slayer awakening spell, she arose to the occasion.

•Looking for Tasha Williams from The L word: But make it supernatural

•Looking for Angel Reyes from The Mayans: But make it supernatural.

•Looking for Ricky Underwood from SLOTAT: but make it supernatural.

•Looking for Jace Wayland from Shadowhunters: Post series.

•Looking for Zade Meadows from Haunting Adeline:

•Looking for Zeke Landon from manifest: But make it supernatural.

•Looking for all other cannon characters for platonic interactions— potential romance:

•No guarantee on interactions: just because you send a starter to me or reply to one of my open starters, does not mean I will reply to you. I will kindly decline a roleplay if I don't vibe with your style. I will never ignore you though, that's very rude and disrespectful. You will get nothing but kindness from me and I expect the same in return.

•Semi-selective.

•NOT GHOST FRIENDLY: Please be an adult and communicate the issue so we can either change things up or part ways respectfully.

•Mun is 29 almost 30: I am an adult and want to be treated as such. Drama will not be tolerated, if you can't respect me, you will get blocked.

•This blog is for entertainment purposes only: It's purely fiction and is supposed to be fun. I'm not here to fulfill some fantasy that you have, I am married and a mom and write for the storylines. Nothing more.

•No god-modding.

•Respect my limits and triggers and I'll respect yours:

No rape, pedophilia, blood incest, heavy mentions of abuse, heavy mentions of death, extreme gore, and bathroom play. Those are my HARD no's.

•My preferred method of roleplay is on Discord. My UN is: infinityyrp

TUPPERBOX IS A REQUIREMENT.

•I will roleplay here if need be.

•I prefer the female role, with the exception of my side/background male cannon characters.

•I will not accept anything less than a paragraph: Though my motto is always quality over quantity.

•I enjoy text style roleplays from time to time: Especially when things get busy for me/us.

•50\50 smut and story: Fluff will be kept at a minimum. I enjoy drama of all kinds(cheating, love triangles, double life, pregnancies, one night stands.) The list goes on. If that's not your cup of tea, then I'm not the partner for you.

•please be POC friendly: my main OC is a woman of color— Alan Deatons daughter.

•lgbtq+ friendly.

•I give everyone the benefit of the doubt, but I do have the right to decline a roleplay, just as you do.

•Communicate effectively.

•Please be consistent: Consistency is key in my book. If I'm waiting days for a reply (without communication), I lose interest. I understand life happens, I have a job m-f, but I also know most of us have our phones on us at all times, and it literally takes 2 minutes to send a message explaining your absence.

•Please be willing to talk ooc and be enthusiastic about our stories: I like to make Playlists and plot and talk about our ships and be friends outside of the roleplay.

•Most important, have fun!

•Open starters will be in the comments: DM me about which one you like and I'll tag you in a starter on the TL or we can make a server on discord and go from there!

•You can add me on discord and message me anytime.

•My DMs are open for discussing potential partnership/plots.

•Kink friendly: Will discuss privately

•Taboo friendly: will discuss privately.

Are we besties yet?😉

Send an Emoji when you DM me to let me know you've read and understand my preferences and rules:

Thank you for your time! ❤️

[justabigoldnerd]

Hey y'all, in just two days it'll be Grief Month, so I've decided to compile a list of things that people who haven't experienced the loss of a close loved one might not think about when writing grief in fiction.

*eye twitches*

This is definitely a healthy way to cope probably

ANYWAY (below the cut because TW for death and grief)

Absence. You notice what's *not* there anymore, and you notice it *loudly*. This is the big one that I don't see in a lot of media. The space just feels empty. Devoid. For a real life example, I had a beloved cat who would literally scream for attention because he didn't understand how to come up and ask for it. When he disappeared, I couldn't stop thinking about how quiet it was. Something was very obviously missing. So, make your characters notice the lack of the person they're mourning. A lag in conversation where they would've added a quip, the kitchen being silent when it was always bustling, a character who always left the TV or radio on passes and suddenly there is no show or song playing quietly in the background. The quiet, the absence, it's oppressive. It makes you want to cover your ears. Oddly enough, sometimes that helps. A song that covers this well is "Through Me (The Flood)" by Hozier.

Memories. This one seems obvious, but it's not just crying in bed to a photo of them. It's *avoiding* photos of them, reminders of them, rooms they've been in, places they've frequented. Everything that reminds you of them feels like it's tearing your body in two with rusty shears. I once locked myself in the middle bathroom of my house because being in any other room reminded me too much of my dog who had passed suddenly at 9 months and I had a panic attack fueled by memories of her. I couldn't even sing or dance anymore for a long time because that's what I was doing with her just the week before she passed. I've only recently been able to look at photos or videos of her again.

Time. In mid September, it will have been two years since my best friend, that 9 month old pup passed. I am still reeling with grief. Your body is a clock and it *will* remember when your loved one passed, even if your mind doesn't. You'll start to think of them more often, you'll start going through the cycle of grief again and you won't know why, until it hits you. It's that time of year again.

Blame. Irrational blame, specifically. You'll blame yourself, others, "if only I had been quicker", "if I had known", "if they'd have just locked the door like I kept telling them to", "if they paid closer attention", and even "If they'd have *cared* this wouldn't have happened." It's wrong, it's bitter, it's hurtful, but it's a part of that grief.

Keepsakes. Not your father's watch or your grandmother's blanket (which are still perfectly lovely and valid!), but the pants with holes in the ankles from my late dog's teeth, or the glasses with a crack splitting one of the lenses from where she grabbed them and took off. I was so angry at her for it at the time. Now they're some of my most prized possessions. I could never get rid of them. They still have her marks. In that same vein is the amount of stray hairs of hers I would find. I kept them all. Sometimes I would just sit on the floor and pick up her fur. The day I realized her fur had stopped showing up on my clothes, I sobbed.

Love. We all know the quote. "What is grief if not love persevering?" As beautiful as it is, I call bullshit. Grief is selfish. It takes all the love you have inside of you and covers it in cement because if it can't have it, no one can. It prevents you from loving. In fact, it made me hate one of my dogs, Petunia, for a long time. It wasn't her fault. She is a beautiful, sweet, sensitive little flower and I do love her now. But grief made me look at her and feel so much rage. Because that was supposed to be *my* pup, not this new thing. I still can't love in the same capacity that I loved Giz (my 9 month old pup, my best friend, my world). I love my dog, the dog that chose *me*, Laika, in a different way. She wormed her way past the walls that grief had built up and made a home in my heart. But Giz lives there too. Laika is my girl, but she'll never be my Giz.

That's all I can think of right now. I might add more as the month wears on and I remember things. Hope this was at all helpful and not just. Idk. Sad.

[gancegancerevo]

Insatiable Fiesta and Carol; or an Example of (too) Real Transphobia in Fiction

[First seen on my Twitter.com but I don't trust it anymore so reposting here]

TW: transphobia and sexual harassment

For me, the failures of the trans representation in the story stem from the fact that Aisno chose being trans as one of their sub-conflicts.

Insatiable Fiesta is one of those events where you interact with a lot of people and see several people that are affected by the situation/Sinner (think Sloane street for another example).

Ryan’s fear, the blogger’s performative veganism, the waiter’s Syndicate background, etc. etc. are all small stories of people being imperfect and getting severely punished for it. And the story makes us sympathize with these random people who have fears and worries that are suddenly put on display and denounced as sins worthy of essentially death.

Carol is no exception, but she is unique among them. Not only because she’s actually quite honorable even before shit goes down but also because her judgement is even more egregious: everyone else hides who they are, Carol is punished for being who she is.

Being transgender has so many aspects and facets and story possibilities that a lot of us who want to see good representation will scrutinize these stories and discuss when they do well and how they fall short.

And for me, the story’s main stumbling point is in how it doesn’t really protect or advocate for its trans character. It’s disgustingly realistic how they weaponized Miss against Carol and how McGrath AND Cabernet make snide comments about her.

And let’s not forget that she was outed by some creep who was stalking the women’s bathroom in such a way that he saw her genitals. It’s fucked up that the peeping tom wasn’t punished on-screen but that is a point in favor of how realistically the transphobia was written in the event; that in the effort to out and demonize trans people, lots of creeps feel empowered to violate women’s spaces.

The biggest point against the story is that the narration misgenders Carol during her "elimination". That sort of choice on some level legitimizes calling Carol a man which is frankly, shit. Such a simple letter can really change things.

On the topic of Carol and Macchiato's interaction at the end, This moment with Carol was satisfying to me in that after all the shit others gave her, Carol found someone who complimented her even after shouting that she was a man in a dress. Now, would I have been happier if Macchiato affirmed Carol's gender a bit more definitively? Yes, definitely. But in terms of the 3 line resolutions that are usually given to these side conflicts, this gets a passing score from me.

I guess my personal preferences make me less concerned by the fact that none of the transphobes got directly punished because I prefer stories that maximize positive relationships. Like, I don’t care for the opinions of transphobes and I’m certainly not in the mood to see more people getting hurt/punished after that terror of a party.

It goes back to how there are so many ways to write queer media. Seeing someone deny herself after McGrath's nonsense is an interesting narrative and it's just disappointing that Aisno didn't follow through on this in several minor yet noticeable ways

Thank you very much for reaching the end of this rambling :)

I do want to analyze more PtN stories in the future and I do hope Aisno steps up and advocates for gender and trans issues more strongly in the future

BTW: required reading

[stayarmytinyzenmoa-l]

Without a Trace [Ch. 11]

Vigilantes AU TW: Language, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Graphic Descriptions of Blood, Minor Character Death, Gun Use, Knife Use, Major Character Death, Body Horror/Gore, Descriptions of Murder, Physical Assault, Implied Mental Assault Genre: Drama, Angst, Light Comedy Pairing: ATEEZ x Reader Y/N Pronouns: Gender Neutral (They/Them) Word Count: 13.4K Summary: Vigilante work has been outlawed, thus sending nine prominent vigilantes either into retirement or into lower ground and, while some abide by the law, a few continue on. Then, one day, a greater threat forces these vigilantes to come together once again, regardless of the law.

(11/11) [First] | [Previous] [Other Groups Masterlist] | [Without a Trace Masterlist]

Notes: HOOOO BOYYYYYYY AHA I DID IT GUYS, I COMPLETED A SECOND SERIES AHAHAAHAHA stay tuned for the end for a special note from me!. Disclaimer: Please remember that this is an AU and a work of fiction, obviously the idols mentioned/written about in this story would never partake in these actions. The idols mentioned in this work are meant to be seen more as face claims rather than the actual idols themselves.

Feedback is greatly appreciated!! Thank you for reading!

You felt disoriented, like your brain was doing flips and your eyes were spinning faster than merry-go-rounds. You rose a hand to your head to try to soothe the throbbing pain in it. Memories seemed to overlap or even completely rewrite, and there were even some memories that seemed fuzzy and incomplete, like they were nothing more than distant dreams.

“If we’re coming back, let’s do it the right way, no more skirting around the law, we both have common goals, right?” Mingi says. You look up, you were standing in the Warehouse now with the other members of the team. “If we cooperate, we could amend the law and get back to what we do best.”

“Plus, I wouldn’t mind a paycheck,” Wooyoung huffs.

Something’s off.

“I’m going to have to disagree with you both,” Yunho spoke up next to you. “I of all of you know how fine print contracts work, for all we know they could arrest us as soon as the Charlatan’s captured.”

“I hate to break it to you two, but some of us have lengthy records on us, not to mention warrants for arrest,” Seonghwa glances over to you and you glanced back. What was this intense feeling of deja vu you were having? “(Y/N)?”

“Uh…” you paused. This conversation just seemed too familiar. “I don’t know, I think we should discuss it more before making a concrete decision,” you finally answered. You looked around the room, something had to be up, now, you were sure. San was skeptical, Yunho was calculating, Hongjoong was waiting, Mingi was worried, Yeosang was busy, Wooyoung was confused, Seonghwa seemed decided, and Jongho… You stopped on him, both of you having made eye contact. Jongho was silent, but he tapped on his wristwatch instead before silently shushing you with a small nod.

“Professor Jung assured to me that our work would be kept under lock and key,” Hongjoong says, pulling you both out of your staring contest. But the conversation started to fall into the background for you, you were too concerned with another matter at hand, too concerned with the way the Timekeeper’s attention landed on you for a second too long.

“If I may,” Jongho, who’d been silent, speaks up now, diverting everyone’s attention to him. “I think we should work independently. We’ve been fine on our own until now, and we will continue to be fine on our own in the future.” He looks to you again. Bingo, the pieces started to connect. They connected faster than you could realize.

Then, you remembered it all. You turned to look at San, who seemed as aloof as usual, neither adding to nor moving the conversation along, and as soon as you took a step toward him, Jongho was quick to intervene.

“What do you think, Spades?” He interjects and the argument ceases. You froze in place, having been caught off guard, and Jongho senses your unease. “Well? Work with the police or not?” Your expression tensed for a moment. The police? What was the correlation there? You had to have been brought back to this moment for a reason, Jongho singled out this sole moment for a reason. Last time, you cooperated with the police, but how did that land you in that situation?

…

Mingi. You looked over to the man who had been nervously fidgeting around with the ball in his hands. Was it really the police’s fault that he got caught?

Come to think about it, maybe they were responsible for so much more.

“I vote no, we should work on our own,” you finally answered. Jongho seemed to relax.

“We were self sufficient before, I’m sure we’d be fine still,” Seonghwa adds. “Like I said, working on our own, especially for some of us, is our best option,” he says.

“Then, it’s decided, I’ll relay to the professor our choice,” Hongjoong says. “Meeting adjourned. We’ll sleep on it and discuss the plan tomorrow,” he turns away, phone in his hand already. 

“Hey, hey! Look what I found!” Wooyoung’s voice was chipper while he pried open the fridge. “How old do you think these are?” He pulls out a pack of beers.

“Well, considering I just restocked it, about three days old,” Yunho laughs, taking the box from him and opening it easily. You, meanwhile, turned to San, ready to corner him, but someone rushed past you and grabbed your arm.

“Don’t lose your cool,” Jongho says. “He doesn’t know what we know,” he tells you. You swallowed harshly, looking at San, who was speaking to Wooyoung, one more time. “Let’s talk outside,” Jongho whispers. You nodded and followed him out. The sun had already begun to set, and you never really thought of it back then, just how quick all of this played out. Getting on the Charlatan’s list, forming this group, nearly dying, and more, it was all over the course of little over a week. How quickly time passed by when you were busy with other things.

“What the hell is all of this, then?” You asked. Jongho glanced at the security camera before looking to you. You glared at him but, with a flick of your wrist, the camera was disabled with your knife embedded into it. “Talk.”

“There’s a reason why I chose the name Timekeeper,” he says before tapping his watch.

“Okay, bravo, you cracked time travel. What’s that got to do with me not sticking a knife in San’s head?”

“Let’s not be too rash, you remember that video, I know you do. He didn’t know either.”

“Why are you vouching so hard for him? You knew from the beginning why I did this vigilante shit, it was so I could kill whoever started this whole mess,” you argued. “Fuck, I just can’t believe I’m arguing with you instead of him.”

“Looked like you weren’t even going to give him the chance to explain it,” he shook his head and you took a deep breath. Unfortunately, he was right. After you saw that video you were so set on confronting him already. You left the room with that intention, and when you saw that the bars had descended you didn’t even think twice before stepping through the door he went through. And after you saw those articles strewn across the floor? You lost it. The drumming in your ears, the Charlatan’s taunting voice, and the memory of coming back to a dead body.

You really were going to kill him.

“I brought you back with me for a reason, (Y/N),” he says.

“You know something I don’t, huh?” You asked him.

“I do, but you’re going to have to trust me,” he says.

“How many times have you gone back?” You asked him.

“Enough times to realize that my old memories are becoming my new ones,” Jongho mumbles. “The last time I brought someone back with me it spelled disaster for that timeline.”

“Oh, I feel so special.”

“That’s not the point, (Y/N).”

“So, what? You want me to show him some sympathy?”

“No, not necessarily.”

“What’s so important about him anyway? The world would be better off without him.”

“(Y/N), I need you to listen to me.”

“Dammit, Jongho, what am I supposed to do?!” The argument continued forth, but Jongho kept a level expression. “I spent my whole life looking for the person that killed Eric. And he’s in there, having a drink with Wooyoung. Jongho, all of my friends have went through so much shit, it has to amount to something, all that pain we went through needs its closure,” you said steadily.

“And you don’t need to kill someone to do that,” Jongho shook his head.

“Why do you care?”

“Because I’ve always cared about all of you,” he says. “You know who really killed Eric. You’re just upset that San got to him before you did.”

The senator sends his regards. San’s voice was so clear now that you knew it was him. 

“Alright, I’m listening,” you took a deep breath. “Why did you bring me back with you?”

“You remember everything that happened clearly, right?” Jongho asks.

“Sure.”

“You remember everyone’s injuries?”

“Yes…”

“You remember what everyone said?”

“Vaguely, but what does this have to do with me?”

“I need you to pull out of this,” Jongho says. “The team, I need you to go back and say you’re out.” You stared at him, processing what he’s saying.

“No, I can’t do that,” you said. “I can’t just leave them to deal with the Charlatan on their own, they’re dangerous, I can’t in good faith let my friends chase after them alone.”

“You have to, (Y/N),” Jongho insists. “It’s the only combination I haven’t done yet. Even all that shit I said in there to get the police off our backs, that timeline ended up with Hongjoong shot dead by them,” he argues. “Do you understand what I’m saying? Every time I’ve repeated that sequence it always ends in all of us dying because of this guy. We have never won against the Charlatan,” Jongho shouts. You took a step back, the suddenness of Jongho’s outburst being something you’d never have expected from him.

“How many futures have you seen?”

“A lot.”

“There has to be one where we win.”

“I thought there was, the one where I went back and convinced you not to join at all. But, in the end, the Charlatan got you. He got all of us,” Jongho shudders. “It was the longest timeline we’d went, I thought I finally found the perfect sequence. Ten years, we were all fine for ten years before that bastard came back to finish the job,” he says. You listened intently.

“Then… do you know who the Charlatan is?” You asked quietly. Jongho made a nodding motion, before shaking his head instead.

“Yes… but also no.”

“Oh, bullshit.”

“I’m serious, (Y/N), the Charlatan has been different every time,” he says. You held back a remark.

“What do you mean?” You shook your head slightly.

“My first timeline the Charlatan was a man named Derek Watts. Ordinary guy, interested in hypnotism, and hated vigilantes because during Aegis’ first bank save his dad died getting caught in the line of fire.”

“Huh, textbook villain.”

“Yup.”

“And then?”

“In the next, a man named Zhang Li,” Jongho crosses his arms. “Young college graduate, girlfriend died in a botched save from Mono.”

“Another textbook.”

“Exactly. Hundreds of timelines, hundreds of Charlatans. Hell, in one of my timelines, you were the Charlatan,” Jongho said in a low voice. “Eric died, you looked everywhere for help, and got none. Your friends died too. And you were left alone. I don’t blame you.” You couldn’t answer. “But then, I thought, what if you knew. What if you had some general knowledge about what was going to happen already, and I figured I’d try it. The last time I brought someone back it went to shit, but maybe this time it’d work out.”

“Who’d you bring back the last time?” You asked. Before Jongho could answer, the door swung open and San, face tinted pink, held two beers in one hand and a half drank one in the other.

“You two making out?” San chuckles through his slurred words. “I’m joking, come join us, we’re getting caught up,” he offers the two bottles to you both and, once you take them, returns inside.

“Him, he was the last person I brought back,” Jongho said once he was out of earshot.

“Him?” You asked with disbelief.

“He’s smarter than you give him credit for,” Jongho says. “We went pretty far with his help too, eight years.”

“What did he do differently?”

“I made sure he didn’t kill Eric,” Jongho said quietly. You looked at him.

“And?”

“Eric became the Charlatan.” Your breath caught in your throat.

“Why?”

“After the ban was passed, he was furious. All that work he did, all that effort he put into everything, he was repaid with a stab to the back.” The way he spoke bothered you. He was just so nonchalant about it, like he’d seen so many of the same outcome so many times he’d become wholly desensitized to it. “I’ve been keeping tabs on everyone who’d been the Charlatan, at least. You’ll never know if a timeline decides to repeat itself, right?”

“Even me?”

“Especially you.”

“Hey! Are you two coming in or what?!” Wooyoung’s voice boomed from inside and you both laughed.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re coming in,” you answered back. “We should go, before they suspect anything.”

“Sure,” Jongho held the door open for you but, before you could step in, he grabbed your arm again, “don’t make any rash decisions.”

“If I did, you’d just twist that watch of yours and go back, so why would it matter?” You shook his hand off and you both filed in. The boys were all seated, beers in the middle table and in their hands.

“About time!” Yunho grins. You popped the cap off of your bottle against the table and took a seat on one of the plastic chairs. “Ask (Y/N) next!” He says.

“Ask me what?” You drank some of your beer while Wooyoung spoke.

“Fuck, marry, kill Outro,” Wooyoung says.

“What are we, kindergartners?” You rolled your eyes, but Wooyoung’s expectant eyes said it all. "Fine, fuck Hope, marry Mono, and kill Agust,” you answered before drinking more. “Nothing against Agust, other than the fact that his inventions backfired on us a couple of times.”

“See, told you,” Yeosang nudges Wooyoung’s arm and the latter frowns.

“Is drinking before an operation a good idea?” Jongho asks, can of beer still unopened.

“Probably not,” San masks his burp with his fist, “but fuck it, right? I haven’t spoken to any of you for ages,” he shakes his head.

“I know! What have we all been up to, anyway?” Wooyoung’s voice overpowered San’s. But, even with the chatter, you couldn’t stop that nagging voice at the back of your head. You looked at all eight of them. Yunho’s shoulder was fine, he was moving around as much as usual. Yeosang was standing upright with ease. Everyone was… fine. You saw the future, or you were from it at least. According to Jongho, it should be different now without the police getting in the way, but you couldn’t help but worry. Was everyone’s safety so infringed on your involvement? Everyone’s wellbeing? You could feel the weight of their lives settling on your shoulders now, how could Jongho do this too? And how could he seem so… You looked at him now, his face stuck into one of indifference. No, you could’ve sworn that at one point he was as loud and cheery as the others.

When did he change? You wondered.

But your thoughts didn’t dwell on him for long, no, instead you looked at the boy next to him. He had discarded his jacket long ago, instead sporting his usual black tee that had some frays and faint blood splatters. His shoulders were relaxed while he laughed fully. How could he? How could he laugh like he didn’t ruin your life? It was almost funny, though, at one point you would’ve said that he saved your life. He was there after everything happened, picking up the pieces like…

Your breath caught in your throat.

He was there. Picking up the pieces like he felt obligated to. There was no doubt about it, San’s appearance in your life was due to whatever guilt surfaced when he realized what he had done. So what were you to him, then? A charity project? A way to repent besides turning himself in? All those soft smiles he showed you, the small gifts from him that you thought he wouldn’t have known about, and the days he’d walk you home thinking that he’d keep you safe, he did all of those knowing that he murdered your best friend.

And all that time you had no idea.

What was it like for him?

To take care of the person who was left behind? And to have no one to go to to talk about it?

“You alright, (Y/N)?” Yunho was next to you now, crouched in front of you while he waved a hand in front of your face. You blinked back into reality. “You good? I know when you’re thinking,” he takes the bottle from your hands and places it just out of reach. You straightened your position and took a deep breath.

“I'm backing out.”

~

And that’s how you ended up watching from afar.

Hongjoong wrote up a new plan, it took all night, but he came up with something else. Nothing he could do about you not being there with them, anyway.

Hell, you weren’t even in the general vicinity of the city.

The sunlight was surprising soft, the sea breeze rushed passed you while you adjusted your sunglasses and took a step off the train. And, directly ahead of you, was the person you’d called for a favor.

“(Y/N), over here,” Jisung rose his hand from its place in his jacket’s pocket, and you walked over to him while waving too. “Glad you called, she’s waiting for you,” he says.

“I bet, she’s been waiting for a while, huh?”

“Year and a half, give or take,” Jisung shrugged and opened the car door for you. “But, well, she was always the more hopeful one out of all of us,” he slides into the driver’s seat. Once you’d both closed your doors, he takes a deep breath. “So, what happened? They kick you out?”

“I left,” you answered while he started the car. “Call it a gut feeling,” you added, stopping yourself from remembering what you did to San before.

“Well, it’s never been wrong,” Jisung says. “You felt it before with Jeno.”

“And since then I’ve never ignored it.”

“Exactly,” he says. “But, it’s not like you to pull out of an operation so abruptly.”

“What do you know about me?”

“More than you think,” he chuckles. “We used to be close, remember?” He says with a teasing tone.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“How long are you staying?”

“Until I see that son of a bitch on the news,” you looked out the window as Jisung turned up onto a hill.

“So… couple of days?” Jisung asks.

“Sure,” you nodded your head slightly. Hongjoong had told you to lay low and go far since you were technically the most at risk in terms of the Charlatan. Originally, you’d planned to hide out in your apartment, but it’s been compromised too much for you to stay there. Then, after moving around the city, you remembered a certain someone who’d been trying to reach out to you for a while now. A person who you knew was in a secure location.

“We’re here,” Jisung pulled into a parking space and got out of the car with you following close behind. You pulled the door to the care center open and quickly stopped while someone stepped out.

“Oh, thank you,” the older man grinned. His grip was tight over the handle on his cane, and he walked with a noticeable limp. One quick glance was enough to see how badly burnt one side of his body was, as the scars creeped up to his face. He stared at you as long as you stared at him. He looked familiar. “Oh… is that (Y/N)?” He asked, his voice unstable but recognizable.

“Mr. Lee?” You chanced your first thought and he nodded. Jeno’s dad. How fitting.

“My god, look at you,” he hobbles closer to you and looks at you with caring eyes. “And Jisung too? My, my, what are you both doing here? You’re both too young to have to be at a place like this,” he shakes his head sadly.

“Mr. Lee, let’s have a seat over there and then we can get caught up,” Jisung looks over to the bench on the side and walks next to the older man, supporting him by the shoulders as the three of you sat down. “Our friend Giselle’s been staying here too, actually, so we came to visit her,” Jisung says.

“Giselle is also here? As a patient?” He asks in a melancholy voice. “Why her, of all the people? She has such a bright future ahead of her,” he frowns.

“Just… you know,” you couldn’t tell him the truth, “things happen. Wrong place, wrong time.”

“It always was that way,” Mr. Lee shakes his head. “So tragic, what happened to all of you because of vigilantes. Eric, Giselle, and even my Jeno, oh, it still hurts to think about what happened to my little boy,” Mr. Lee rubs his face with his hands. “I don’t know why he got caught up in that business anyway,” his voice shakes. “You both give Giselle my wishes, alright? Poor girl,” he mutters.

“Wait, but, Mr. Lee, what happened to you? You’re a patient here as well?” You asked.

“Yes, I am, but I usually stay with my wife,” he says. “I was just getting groceries until I was caught up in a heist led by TNT, I think his name was, and I got caught in the blast,” he says.

“That’s horrible, Mr. Lee,” your own voice nearly got choked up. You were there. You were there and you couldn’t even do anything, what with you nearly getting caught in the blast too, and now you were hearing that your friend’s dad was there at the same time? You could defend yourself, sure, but Mr. Lee? One look at his cane told you everything you had to know.

“This thing? It’s okay, I’ve gotten used to it,” he says wistfully. “It makes me look a little cooler now, right?” He chuckles. “But, I don’t want to hold you any longer, I know your friend is waiting for you both.”

“Will you be alright on your own, Mr. Lee?” Jisung asks.

“I’m old, not crippled, boy,” he says in a teasing voice and Jisung laughs.

“Alright, alright, I get it, old man,” he says. “Who’s picking you up?”

“The wife, of course,” he grins. “Now, go on! Leave this old man to his thoughts,” he insists and, slowly, you both got up and exchanged your goodbyes again before entering the facility.

“Welcome to Jaramedica, the rehabilitation center for all those damaged by vigilante or villain exploits,” the woman at the front desk greeted you as you neared. “Mr. Han, here to see Ms. Uchinaga again?” She asks.

“Yup, I brought another guest with me though,” he nudges his head toward you. 

“Alright, full name, please,” she asks.

“(Y/N) (L/N).”

“And recorded, please enjoy your time,” she hands you and Jisung key cards and you walk through.

The inside was akin to a paradise, or at least in your terms it was. It was as grand as those resorts you used to see on commercials, and somewhere was Giselle, who’d been here for a while now. Her parents wanted her to rehabilitate in the best of facilities, after all, and no where was better than this one. The air was clean, the area spacious, and the people, god, just looking at them made you feel happier too.

“Inside here,” Jisung tugs you into one of the cottages and you locked the door behind you. “Gigi, I brought a surprise,” Jisung announced. You heard the TV’s volume lower.

“I’m in the room, Jisung, come in whenever!” That was the first time you’d heard her voice in… a while. You didn’t know what you were expecting it to sound like, maybe tired and strained, but no, instead it was the same as you’d remembered it. That made it even the more sadder, and couldn’t stop the guilt that circled your heart. You followed Jisung quietly, and when you stepped into the room, you were surprised by how bright it was in there with the window wide open and the breeze flowing through.

But it was nothing compared to her, you old best friend, who sat tucked into bed with her lunch on the table next to her, and her widened eyes that stared at you like they’d seen a ghost.

“Hey, Gigi,” you said quietly. And, immediately, her lips fell into a frown, but not the disappointed kind, no, the sad one, the one that scrunched her eyebrows together and formed tears at the corner of her eyes, the one that was the exact opposite of what you’d expected. Then, as if she’d been waiting, she opened her arms, and you melted into them, your face buried into her shoulders while she pressed her head against yours.

“I missed you so much, (Y/N),” she mumbled. “Look at you, wow,” she pulls away from you first, holding your face in one hand. Then, in a quick turn up, she whistles. “This one looks like a close call," she traces the scar under your chin.

“Too close for comfort, that’s for sure,” you answered. Then she pulled your wrist, looking at the scars that decorated your arms from the many fights you had. “Well, at least you got most of these when we were still together,” she says.

“Sure, that too,” you said while Jisung pulled up two chairs.

“Now, where did you find our littles Spades?” She asks Jisung.

“Technically, I found him,” you corrected her.

“I let you find me,” Jisung rolled his eyes.

“Whatever,” you shot back.

“And still with the banter, it’s almost like nothing ever changed,” Giselle laughs. You leaned back on the chair and then it caught your eye, a picture frame off to the side next to her. A closer look showed that it was a picture from before all of this, before your lives went to shit, and before vigilantes were even in the public eye. The five of you stood next to each other, arms wrapped around the person next to them and smiles brighter than ever. “I did say almost.” She catches the center of your attention.

“Yeah…” you looked away.

“So, you look like you have a lot to tell me,” she says.

“I do, I do, I don’t know where to even start,” you shook your head. 

“We ran into Jeno’s dad just now, actually, he sends his regards,” Jisung says.

“Oh, is Mr. Lee here too? Is he alright?”

“Burns from a TNT heist,” you answered. “He’s still walking, but he has a cane now,” you explained.

“Oh, god,” Giselle frowned. “Next time he comes, I hope I run into him too,” she continued. “I’ve been going outside much more now, actually, the doctors say it’s good for me, so hopefully I see him sooner than later,” she says. Then, like a switch flipped in her head, she spoke again, “actually, before we continue on and before I forget, (Y/N), Jisung and I have something for you,” she snaps her fingers and opens the drawer next to her before handing you a box inside. “Go ahead and open it,” she says. You pulled it open took the SD card from inside of it.

“What’s this?” You asked.

“A gift,” she says. “There’s a computer in the next room, you can go watch it there.”

“Is it something I should watch now?”

“Well… we have time, I think Eric would want you to see it too,” Giselle urges you. Jisung nods.

“A surprise for a surprise, fun,” you flipped the card in your hand and stood up. “It won’t take long, right?”

“Depends on you, (Y/N),” she says.

“Yeah, yeah,” you walked into the next room, Giselle’s and Jisung’s voices growing quieter with the distance, and pushed the SD card into the monitor. You clicked onto the file that appeared on the desktop and what had to be hundreds of video files opened up before you. You clicked the first one and felt your heart stop.

You knew this video.

Eric tapped on the screen of the lens.

“Man… (Y/N) is so going to kill me if they see this,” Eric adjusted the camera to better get a good range around the bedroom. “Okay…” he looks at his phone screen. “Should be fine… I’ll just turn it on when I’m out, I guess…” he continues to mumble to himself while walking around the room. Your bedroom to be exact. The camera caught everything, from the bed, the closet, to the window, it had a good vantage point. “Crap, the one in the living room’s offline again.”

It was the same as the first time you’d seen it, except this time it kept going. You watched Eric move around the whole apartment checking on these hidden cameras you didn’t even know were there and, you were sure, might still be there, just unused and offline.

“Shit… I really hope (Y/N) doesn’t find these but… dammit, I can’t have a close call like that again,” he speaks to himself. “I’ll have to make sure I’m not followed back next time, (Y/N) could…” he stops muttering and shakes his head. You moved on to the next video.

This time, Aegis tumbled in from one of the windows, but as quickly as he came in he stopped to duck behind the curtain as you walked into frame, headphones on and humming whatever song was playing through them, and soon you were out of frame and Eric ran to the bedroom, emerging again in normal clothing and running to the front door. He cleared his throat and loudly announced that he was home and, there you were again, headphones around your neck with a smile.

The next series of videos were either of an empty apartment or of you doing whatever around the area. Occasionally there was a video where he was almost caught and occasionally there was a video of him tinkering with the devices. Then, a strange difference.

Aegis once again tumbled into the apartment and, after a quick check confirming that you weren’t home, Eric removed his mask and took a huge breath, but his eyes widened in shock as soon as he heard something break behind him. He turned around quickly, shield at the ready, before dropping it altogether as someone entered the frame.

Jeno.

“I can explain,” Eric says quickly.

“Holy shit…” Jeno had an apple in his hand and his jaw was practically on the ground. “You’re…”

“Into cosplay!” Eric quickly covered. “Looks good, right? Aegis is awesome!”

“Come on, Eric, I’m not that dumb,” Jeno runs a hand through his hair. “Have you told (Y/N)?”

“Have I told (Y/N)?”

“Have you told (Y/N)?!” “Of course I haven’t told (Y/N)! Are you kidding me?! Have you seen the people after me?!” Now it was Eric’s turn to be frustrated.

“I… holy shit… my best friend is a super hero he’s… he’s the hero!” Jeno freaks out.

“No, no, definitely not a hero, just a guy with a shield,” Eric quickly corrected him. “You can’t tell anyone, Jeno.”

“I won’t!”

“Not even (Y/N).”

“But… wouldn’t… I’m surprised (Y/N) hasn’t figured it out.”

“I can be sneaky when I try. But (Y/N) can’t know. No matter what happens, (Y/N) cannot know. I can’t put them in danger like that, do you understand?” You’d never heard him so serious before. Jeno, who’s countenance was usually so cheery, had grown serious. “Even if I die, (Y/N) cannot know.”

“Christ… that’s dark, man.”

“It’s for their safety.”

“What am I… what do I do if…”

“Don’t tell them, just let the police run their investigation.”

“And if they find your gear?"

“They won’t,” Eric said this as he removed his uniform, clearly showing Jeno where he stashed it and exactly where you remembered it. “Listen, Jen, if anything ever happens to me then you take everything in here and you burn it, got it? (Y/N) can’t be connected to Aegis, god knows who’d be after them,” he says sternly. Jeno only nodded curtly. “If someone else finds these and, I dunno, takes my place, then that’s even better. It would draw attention away from all of you. I originally took this up to protect you all, so I don’t know what I’d do with myself if any of you got hurt because of it.”

It was like everything connected in that moment. Sure, Jeno was the most excited to try the vigilante thing, he showed the most promise, but he never said anything definitive until “Aegis” broke his hiatus. His motive was never ‘what happened to Aegis?’ It was always ‘what happened to Eric?’ Who, thanks to San’s interference, had been removed from Aegis’ history nearly all together.

And when Giselle’s accident happened? Jeno was the first to bring up the idea of pumping the breaks.

And then what happened to him in your next operation?

You moved on to the next video, flipping through until you once again saw Jeno and Eric talking to each other.

“Yo… (Y/N) is going to kill you if they find out about this,” Jeno taps on the camera lens.

“I know, I know!”

“Can you imagine? ‘The Great Aegis killed by angry significant other.’”

“Now that’s a headline,” Eric laughed. “But, I’m only telling you about it because if anything happens you need to take all of the cameras out and take the SD card they’ve been uploading onto. It’s connected to my desktop so just pop it out.”

“Got it, got it, I’m guessing you want me to destroy it, right?”

“Sure, do whatever, just make sure it doesn’t fall in the wrong hands. Who knows what anyone would do with these?”

Wrong hands? The Charlatan had this last time, it was the only way for them to have had the footage. So that left one question then, how did they get it? You continued flipping through videos, only stopping when you got to that one. The one that nearly made you lose your mind.

You skipped through it.

The next video was exactly what you thought it would be. As you expected, it was Jeno, just Jeno, with tears in his eyes and the tip of his nose reddened, you watched him approach each camera and removed them from their spot before you saw him walk to the closet and pull the back panel out. Then you watched his shoulders relax with relief seeing that it was empty. All traces of Aegis were gone. You wondered if Jeno ever suspected the new Aegis, but then again your apartment was privy to burglars and with every window open it would have come as no surprise that Jeno had to consider the possibility. You looked at the date on the corner and, yet another variable, it had been a month after Eric had been murdered.

You didn’t even stay in the apartment that month, no, you stayed with Yuna, who had successfully gotten the cops involved in her case and was now living on her own.

Jeno was smarter than he let on, no wonder he didn’t jump to conclusions. Not in the same way you did, at least. 

“Jen? What are you doing in my bedroom?” Your voice was clear.

“Uh… nothing,” Jeno closed the closet door quickly, but quietly, and before running back in the main room grabbed the final camera and, presumably, the SD card you now had in your possession.

“Sure, Jen, stop creeping over there,” Giselle’s voice was as loud as ever, then the video stopped.

You thought that was the last one, but there was one left, and this one was much different than the others.

This time it was in Jeno’s bedroom.

“Hey… (Y/N). Or, at least, I hope it’s you, (Y/N), so if it’s not you just, uh, do me a favor and don’t watch this, or do… I guess,” Jeno rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. This was a different Jeno than the one you’d seen in the earlier videos, he was older, tireder, and maybe a little more jaded, and when you looked at the date on the corner you knew exactly why, it was recorded the day before the altercation with Absolute Zero. “Uh… if you’re watching this then, uh… I guess I’m gone.” You felt your throat choke up and you took a deep breath. “Look, I just had a bad feeling about tomorrow so I wanted to leave this here for my own conscious, ya know? Maybe it’s a little selfish, but you deserve to know everything, (Y/N).”

~

Jeno rubbed his face tiredly again, feeling the bags under his eyes weigh heavily. He looks over his shoulder and picks up the camera, one that was hidden in the stuffed bear he remembered Eric giving to you a while ago.

“Uh, just to be transparent and everything, here you are,” he shows you asleep on his bed, you’d both agreed to meet up the night before to prepare, then he set the bear down again. “You’re really knocked out there, (Y/N),” he laughs. “But, uh… back to the message and all, this should be the last video on the card, so I’m assuming you watched everything else. Don’t worry, I didn’t watch anything at all aside from the ones I was in, I’m not a creep like that, but I just wanted to tell you that Eric cared so much about you. He really…” Jeno trailed off when he heard you stir.

“Actually, let me move to the kitchen,” he picked up the bear and left the bedroom, closing the door as quietly as he could before placing the bear down on the counter and sitting in front of it. “Eric only wanted the best for you, he wanted you to see him at his best, so I don’t want you to beat yourself up about what happened anymore. I’m sure you have questions, and I’m sure at least one of them is why I didn’t tell you and just…” Jeno trails again, “I’m sorry, this was all kind of spontaneous, I wasn’t planning on recording anything, but there’s just this gut feeling I have and it’s bothering me, you know? But, well… I told Jisung to take the SD card if anything happened so, yeah, he may have abandoned us but at least he agreed to do that,” he chuckles. But, as it died out, he zoned out for a moment.

“Just… just to toss things out there, I never said anything to the new Aegis,” he says. “I'm not sure if he was the one who killed Eric or if he just looted your place after it happened, but I never said anything. But, you know what, (Y/N)? He cares about you too. I hung out with San a couple of times, actually, just guy stuff, you wouldn’t care. Gym, garage, and golf, the three Gs we called it,” he laughs again. “I don’t think he killed Eric, though. And if he did, he didn’t do it from his own personal vendetta, there’s no way. But, I’ve seen the way he treats you, maybe you could hear him out one day, lend him a talking ear or something, I don’t know. The guy just seems lonely. At least we have each other, you know? I don’t know who he has,” Jeno shakes his head.

“Actually, I take it back,” Jeno backtracks. “San did say something weird to me once when we went drinking, but I never really thought too much about it. He kept saying that he “wronged you” or something like that, he kept talking about how nothing he’d ever do would make up for what he did, and after that I had a feeling. I had a feeling but while I was watching him I couldn’t be mad at him. I know, hate me all you want, curse me or whatever I’m probably dead anyway, but (Y/N), you have to understand, if he killed Eric in cold blood why did he try so hard to help you get back on your feet? Why would he have put so much effort into supporting you if he wanted to hurt him so much? I wish I had the chance to ask and, well, if you’re seeing this then I never made it to that bar hang out we agreed on,” he shakes his head. He was rambling, he knew he was, and in some strange way it comforted him. Saying everything out loud and breaking down everything he learned and observed had this strange cathartic feeling to it that he couldn’t describe. He couldn’t look at the camera, for some reason, it felt as if he was looking at you. But, for this last part, he forced himself over that fear.

“(Y/N), I’ll be so honest with you, I don’t want to die,” his voice was strained and he held back tears. “When I agreed to become a vigilante with you all, I think I was just excited. I wanted to be like Eric too, and I thought that I could, but…” he swallowed harshly. “After what happened to Gigi I… I don’t know anymore. Eric told me he chose to do this to keep all of us safe, and I wanted to honor that legacy of his, and then I failed,” he said this slowly now, taking deep breaths when he could.

“I guess, what I’m trying to tell you is… no matter what happens to me tomorrow, don’t hold it against yourself. Everything I do tomorrow and everything that happens is on me, alright? Just, uh… remember to take a couple of steps back. Don’t lose yourself to the hype like I did, take a page from Eric’s book and remember your place. We’re not heroes, and we’re not villains, we’re just people who decided they like to beat things up,” he laughs pathetically. “And don’t rush into things head on! We won’t be here to back you up this time and I don’t know if you would have anyone after us to do it either! If you do, then by all means, beat the shit out of whoever stands in your way, but otherwise take your time and figure things out before making decisions, yeah?” He points to the camera every now and then before sighing and shaking his head.

“You are one of the closest friends I think I’ll ever have, (Y/N). I’ll keep Eric busy for you, so I’d better not see you again for another 100 years, or whatever,” he says quietly. He’s silent for a while, the sound of the clock ticking behind him being the only sound in the video before he shake his head again. “Take care, (Y/N), and good luck on everything, yeah? You can do it if you put your mind to it, I know you know right and wrong, and I know you know how to choose your friends carefully. No matter what it is you’re doing now, we’re always backing you up,” he says. “Good bye, (Y/N),” he smiles at the camera before leaning over and turning it off, and only then did he take the time to wipe the tears that cascaded down his face.

~

You sat in silence, the restart button staring at you while you waited. What were you waiting for? Some surprise character to enter this story? You wiped your tears away while you sniffled and you tried to regain your composure.

God, that Jeno, he always knew how to get you in the end.

“I… um…” Jisung started behind you, you turned your head just enough to barely see him. “Jeno said he had a bad feeling about Absolute Zero, and if I saw his name on the news to go to his apartment and grab it.”

“You couldn’t have given this to me earlier?” You asked him.

“We weren’t exactly on speaking terms until recently, you know,” he deadpans.

“Right…” In the end it was your fault. What an ironic connection. “I’m guessing you and Gigi watched it.”

“Just the beginning, and that last video too,” Jisung says. You pulled the SD card out and stared at it, it was just ordinary, no one would have known what was on it and no one would have suspected anything. You placed it in your pocket and pushed past Jisung to go back to Giselle.

“That was fast,” she comments.

“I didn’t want to dwell too much on it.”

“I understand,” she smoothened out her sheets. “(Y/N), Jisung’s been keeping me updated with everything,” she says while reaching for your hand and holding it between hers. “You’ve been through a lot.”

“I know.”

“Now that you have your answer, what will you do?” You were silent. “Maybe you should take it easy now, I don’t think Eric would have wanted you to go on this rampage for him.”

“You’re right,” you nodded your head slightly.

“You’re not going to fight me on it?”

“Why would I?” You sighed and Jisung entered the room.

“Not to be that person, (Y/N), but we’re worried about you,” he says. “Every time the Ace of Spades came up on the news they were further and further from you. Maybe it’s time to drop the knives, (Y/N),” he says. “You know as well as I do, the Charlatan is out of our league. Just leave them to those eight idiots.”

“God, they’re gonna get themselves killed,” you brought your hand to your head.

“Good faith, (Y/N), they’re not that hopeless,” Giselle laughs. “Gosh, look at us, the reunion of Aces.”

“Minus one.”

“Not to be sentimental, but Jeno’s always with us,” Giselle squeezes your hand. Jisung leans against the wall and crosses his arms.

“I should’ve been there,” he says.

“Hey, too late for sympathies,” you cut him off.

“(Y/N), really, you should think about retiring,” Giselle says suddenly. “After everything that’s happened to you, you should put yourself first. You have your answer now, you know what happened, it’s time to give it a rest,” she insists.

“I guess I could…” you looked up and then you hesitated.

Something’s wrong.

That gut feeling of yours was kicking in again. You looked around and your two friends, who’d known you long enough, easily caught on to your unease. Jisung, though, was the one to really take initiative, standing up from his spot and playing around with something hidden in his sleeves.

Then, you looked up, specifically at the window.

You couldn’t get a good look at who it was, you only caught the shadow of them moving away. Shit, did the Charlatan find you? How? Why? This place was supposed to be secure! But a quick shared look with Jisung made all the pieces fit together.

Two targets in one place. Vulnerable. The Charlatan wouldn’t have missed an opportunity like that.

“I’ll be right back,” you stood up slowly and, before you could take a step to the door, someone grabbed onto your wrist. You followed it and looked to Giselle. “Sorry, I’m sorry, I just have a hunch,” you told her.

“I’m not stopping you, I just want to tell you to be careful,” she says.

“I will, I always am,” you reassured her. Jisung looked out the window.

“I’ll stay here with Gi,” he says.

“Yeah, no telling what can happen now. I know security is air tight here but…”

“You know what you’re up against better than we do,” Jisung fills in the blanks for you.

“Yeah, stay safe, hopefully I’ll be back soon,” you approached the door.

“See you later, (Y/N),” Giselle’s voice was distant as you left the small home.

The outdoors was bright and the cheery voices around you contradicted the intense feeling at the back of your head. You knew you were being watched, but you couldn’t tell who was watching you. There was no sight of anyone suspicious from earlier and the crowd made it hard to pinpoint where he could have gone, until a sudden movement caught your eye, a door shutting a little too quickly and a little too suddenly, so you moved toward it without hesitation.

The layout was near identical to Giselle’s home, save for the fact that it was littered with unopened boxes with a noticeable layer of dust on them. They were still sealed shut with tape and they were stacked amongst each other in various places throughout the room. The windows, likewise, were blocked by various pieces of cardboard that were held together by even more tape and even more boxes. Despite those, the room was empty, you were pretty sure. In fact, to the untrained eye, it looked like you were alone.

You knew that the Charlatan’s lackey was in here somewhere, you could feel it. You thought this as you walked further in, looking behind boxes and peeking into the rooms.

Where?

Where did they go?

There was only one way in and out of the cottages, even the windows couldn’t be opened that far by design. You stood in the middle of the room now, how could you miss them?

Clang!

You hit the floor with a loud thud, the metal cane dropping next to you being the last thing you saw before blacking out.

~

Jongho was right. Everything was going perfectly. Everyone was in relatively good shape, too. He saw this as everyone regrouped in the warehouse that Yeosang had finally traced the signals from the broken Charlatan mask to, they found everything they needed and more than enough evidence to break down the Charlatan’s modus operandi. They found the missing vigilante weapons, they found many of the missing people, all of which were somewhat familiar to them, and they found the source that supplied the Charlatan with all the information to begin with: a simple flash drive. God, did Yeosang yell, a simple flash drive was what brought so many people to their demise? The hacker almost laughed out loud at the sheer ridiculousness of it.

But, the strangest part of that flash drive? The chicken scrawl behind it that simply said ‘Loveholic.’

The legend themself, the unknown variable, and, arguably, the reason why the vigilante ban was passed in the first place. But Hongjoong was skeptical, the coincidental intersectionality between the Charlatan and Loveholic just seemed too convenient, like it was set up just perfectly like a trap made for an animal. Call it anxiety, instinct, or experience, Hongjoong knew something was up.

It was just too easy. Everything was laid out already and all they needed now was the person themself. The Charlatan. Whoever they were, they did well in covering their tracks, but with everything they found it was easy to breakdown the main details.

“How much longer do we have to stick around here?” San groans. "We’ve basically checked everywhere already, I don’t think the Charlatan’s here,” San says.

“I agree, I think we’ve exhausted this warehouse,” Yunho says.

“But we have to find them, if they’re not here then we look everywhere else,” Jongho says.

“Shit… maybe we should’ve agreed to let the police help us,” Mingi huffed, stuck in his own thoughts. “This isn’t even finding a needle in a haystack, it’s more like finding a strand of hair in the ocean,” he shakes his head.

“It should be possible with Cypher’s help, right?” Seonghwa asks.

“Maybe, but don’t rely on me only,” Yeosang said worriedly.

“We haven’t checked that one room yet, the one that was locked earlier,” Jongho interjects. “The one of the first floor,” he reminds them all. In the last timeline it was the room where he and Hongjoong found Mingi in but, with Mingi in front of him very not brainwashed, who knew what was in there?

The Charlatan, hopefully.

“What can we do, though? It’s locked,” Mingi says. Everyone stared at him. “What?”

“I’ll handle it,” Wooyoung rolled his eyes. “Let’s just head over there,” he leaves first and everyone follows. On the way, Wooyoung pulled out some kind of multi-tool from his belt and rifled through it until he tugged off a bent and a straight pick just in time for them to reach the room. Carefully, he pressed his ear to the door and pushed both picks in, listening carefully to hear the barrels click into place.

“Do you think he’ll get it?” San asks.

“Shh,” Wooyoung shushes him with a glare. 

“Don’t be too hard on yourself if you can’t get it,” Yeosang teases.

“Quiet, I can’t hear the mechanism,” Wooyoung grumbles.

“Maybe I should’ve asked if he knew what he was doing,” San corrects himself.

“Can you all be quiet for two minutes?!” Wooyoung straightens himself suddenly and grabbed onto the handle to balance himself, the knob pushing down and the door swinging open.

“Well would you look at that, it wasn’t even locked anymore,” Yunho deadpans.

“No wonder we couldn’t hear anything either,” Seonghwa sighs.

“It was locked earlier!” Wooyoung argues.

“You didn’t think to maybe check the door knob?” Hongjoong pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Be for real, if I did check it you all still would have made fun of me,” Wooyoung rolls his eyes.

“Can we go into the room already?” San cuts in.

“Actually, that’s a great idea! Let’s finish investigating the creepy-ass place so we can go home and find the Charlatan tomorrow!” Wooyoung enters the room first and turns the light on, immediately gasping after.

“What?! What happened?!” Mingi runs in after him and nearly bumps into Wooyoung while everyone else filtered in, the air around them going still as all of them realized who was in the room.

The sound of chains dropping to the ground echoed in the room as the figure who was once chained to the chair stood up. The Charlatan’s mask seemed to reflect the scene in front of them with blood dripping down either side of it and trailing along the curves of the mask’s artificial smile. Behind them was an older man who stood tall while clutching onto his cane that sported a noticeably fresh coating of blood. 

“How nice of you all to join us, finally,” the old man says. “Allow me to introduce myself,” he says. “My name is Lee Muyeol,” he taps on the handle and, with a short chuckle, he grins. “And I am the Charlatan,” he looked confident. Like he had just won.

But none of them were paying attention to him.

No.

Just the last lackey next to him. The one who, instead of wearing the usual white jumpsuits, sported a black uniform with an encircled A on their right shoulder.

“No…” Jongho’s face fell into despair, something that everyone caught onto. Jongho was clutching onto his wristwatch now, the face of the clock cracking from the pressure he was putting on it alone.

“The Ace of Spades, who knew they were so much closer than I thought? It was a bit hard to break this one in, but they always come around eventually,” Muyeol says. In that moment, Spades pulled out their signature knives, the steel glinting under the light. “Now, the Ace of Clubs was a problem, it was better for me to have just knocked him out and, well, Hearts is already debilitated. Diamonds, though, may he rest in peace,” Muyeol shook his head. “Deal with them for me, Ace of Spades.” Spades readjusted their grip on the knives before flinging both toward the group.

“Disperse!” Hongjoong shouted before everyone ran out of the room. At the flick of their wrists, the knives returned to their owner.

“Twine, god, (Y/N) is a genius!” Yunho marvels.

“Not the time, Yunho!” Everyone shouts.

“Huntsman, focus on the Charlatan,” Hongjoong says.

“Got it,” Seonghwa made distance and loaded his rifle.

“Everyone else, try to hold back,” Hongjoong finishes. Next to him, Jongho adjusts his watch.

“Cheshire! Go!” Jongho shouts. Wooyoung, though confused, nodded his head.

“(Y/N)? Hey, friend!” Wooyoung runs up to Spades first. “Wake the fuck up!” He grips onto his knuckles and right hooks them.

“I said to hold back!” Hongjoong shouts.

“They’ll live, they’re hard headed like that,” San pulls the shield off of his arm and flings it toward the Ace of Spades, Wooyoung catching it with a slight clang as he bashed the front side of it against them. Spades grabbed a hold of the shield and flung it to the side while grabbing onto Wooyoung’s collar. Seonghwa, meanwhile, released the breath he’d been holding and pulled the trigger.

“Spades,” Muyeol’s voice was commanding and Spades released Wooyoung, running toward Muyeol instead. Jongho adjusted his wristwatch.

“Don’t shoot!” He shouts, but he was a second too late.

“No!” Wooyoung lurched forward but he wasn’t fast enough. Instead, he watched Spades take the bullet instead. With a steadying step back, Spades gripped onto their shoulder before steeling themselves.

“Shit…” Hongjoong grit his teeth.

“Some friends you have, Ace of Spades,” Muyeol says. “They just keep hurting you. Beating you. Shooting you. Drowning you,” he looks to Hongjoong. “Abandoning you. Dying on you. You really should get your priorities in check,” he shakes his head.

“Shut the fuck up, old man!” Wooyoung shouts. Behind him, Jongho adjusts his wristwatch. 

“Cheshire, on your left!” Jongho shouts. Then, as knives lodged in the ground next to him, Wooyoung bounced back in time for San to grab ahold of his shield again.

“Sorry, (Y/N),” Mingi approached from behind, turning the pistol in his hand to hold onto the barrel while he slammed it down on their mask. Spades pivoted on their heel, bent down low, and swept their leg behind Mingi before pulling their knife out but, before they could throw it, a bullet knocked it out of their hand and Spades’ head whipped to the side, spotting Seonghwa gripping onto his rifle tighter than before. Spades rolled their shoulder out and made their way toward the rest of the group, knives at the ready.

“I guess we kind of are shitty friends,” Yunho says.

“Yunho!” Everyone shouts.

“What? Yeosang said that all the lackeys are still somewhat conscious, it’s like some hypnosis shit,” Yunho argues. Jongho adjusts his wristwatch.

“Hypnosis, right,” Jongho runs a hand through his hair. “Shadow! Keep Spades busy,” Jongho takes a step back and holds his head with his hand and Hongjoong speaks up.

“Jongho, you know something, don’t you?” Hongjoong asks. Jongho looks at him with an expression Hongjoong had never seen on him before, desperation. In front of him, Mingi grabs onto the Ace of Spades and drags them back, gripping onto their arm and slamming them onto the ground.

“(Y/N) is going hate us,” Yeosang cries.

“(Y/N) is going to kill us!” San corrects him.

“Oh, this is so fucked, this is so fucked!” Wooyoung panics. Once again, the knives just barely miss their mark but before Spades could recall them Mingi grabbed onto one of the twines and snapped it in half, all while the second one returned and lodged itself in his back. Spades pushed off of the ground grabbing onto Mingi’s shoulder with one hand and using the momentum to grab onto the knife in his back and pull it out. Jongho, meanwhile, adjusts his watch.

“Huntsman, aim for the second twine,” Jongho says. Hongjoong grabs his shoulder.

“Explain, Timekeeper,” he says firmly. Jongho is shocked into silence and, instead, he adjusts his wristwatch.

“I can’t,” he shakes his head. Then, the sound of a sharp break caught everyone’s attention as Mingi slid to a stop in front of them, clutching onto his arm tightly. San stepped up next, tossing the shield aside and cracking his knuckles.

“Alright, my turn,” he cracks his neck and charges.

“Blackguard, stop!” Jongho shouts.

“Nope, make me,” he catches Spades’ arm and twists it behind their back before kicking them down, but Spades recovers quickly.

“Look at him, he’s just watching,” Yeosang looks at Muyeol.

“We can’t target him, (Y/N) will just take the blows instead,” Seonghwa says.

“I know,” Yeosang mutters. The sound of material breaking caught their attention. The fissures in Spades’ mask were obvious even from their position. Yeosang, helps Mingi up from the floor and supports his weight. Then, something strange, Spades and San are caught at what was like a neck-and-neck finish.

“Shit, when’d you get this strong?” San breaks a sweat but keeps his force steady.

“San, listen to me,” your voice was muffled by the mask.

“Huh?”

“Don’t break concentration, dumbass,” you spoke. “You all came just in time, any longer I think I would have lost it,” you said.

“So, what, you acting?”

“Keep your voice down. If Muyeol suspects one thing the whole place goes down,” you say.

“So why’d you break Mingi’s arm then?”

“I didn’t, you idiot.”

“Then what did we hear?”

“Look at the knife over there, the second one I lost,” San glanced over quickly but, it was obvious, the handle had been crushed. “I’m not so evil I’d break your bones to prove a point, but I need you to make this believable,” you pushed against him and you both stumbled back. San only nodded and shook out his wrists. You pulled out two more knives and spun them in your hands, running toward him and plunging one into a non-vital area of his arm.

“Ouch.”

“Shut up. When you give the signal we all charge Muyeol,” you explained.

“Me?”

“Yup. Break the mask and those other two run. I told them not to tell the others,” San pushed your arm out of the way and you plunged the second knife into his other arm.

“Ouch.”

“Be serious, San,” you said curtly. “As soon as this mask falls off, Seonghwa will take the shot and you and those other two will grab onto Muyeol. He’s confident, but not invincible,” you explained.

“Got it, I trust you, who else knows?” He pushed away from you and picked up his shield.

“The obvious, of course,” he could hear your grin as you grabbed onto the shield and pulled it toward you. San kept his grip strong and he leaned in, other hand readying to uppercut. “Only one of us is crazy enough to come up with this stunt.”

“Jongho, calm down,” Hongjoong grabs Jongho’s hand before he could reach for his watch.

"I can’t,” he says.

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Jongho shakes his head slowly at first.

“It is,” Hongjoong said firmer. “Jongho, we’re winning.” Jongho blinks once and, finally, the sound of the mask breaking in half and falling on the floor, followed quickly by a bullet loading into place, followed by Mingi and Wooyoung running forward, and finished by the sound of San’s shield slamming into Muyeol.

~

“So, basically, I told (Y/N) as soon as they backed out of the plan about it, I’ll admit, the plan was rough around the edges, but I knew it’d work out,” Hongjoong explains.

Now, a few hours and a couple of ex-vigilantes freed from mind control later, everyone sat in your still decimated apartment around the only thing still standing, your dining table. You had turned your TV on for some background noise, but the earlier fight had left visible breaks in the video on the monitor, but it was still largely watchable. And, of course, along the table were boxes of pizza well deserved.

“That’s… insane. And you agreed to do it?” Mingi asks.

“Sure, anything to catch the bad guy,” you jut your thumb to the side, Muyeol sat next to you with a large piece of duct tape sealing his mouth shut, the words ‘Bad Guy’ scrawled messily along the tape. “When I first heard the plan, I was kind of impressed so I wanted to see how it’d go. Plus, I knew there would be insurance if it really backfired,” you glanced at Jongho quickly before looking away.

“Wait, wait, let me get it straight just in case though,” San says. “So, (Y/N) backs out of the plan first?”

“Yes,” Hongjoong answers.

“Then, in front of us, you tell (Y/N) to go somewhere far away and secure?”

“Yes,” Hongjoong repeats.

“But, after we all passed out, you woke (Y/N) up and told them the actual plan?”

“Yes.”

“Which was basically that (Y/N) would walk right into the Charlatan’s trap, get captured, endure hours of torture, become the last resort, get beat up, and then catch the Charlatan?”

“Well, yes, but it was a little more complicated than that.”

“And what if it didn’t work?”

“Like (Y/N) said, we had insurance,” Hongjoong says.

“And what if the Charlatan actually broke them?”

“Did he?” Hongjoong asks while he looks at you.

“I still feel like me,” you shrugged.

“Reckless, that whole plan was just… reckless,” Mingi sounded stressed. “How’s your arm, (Y/N)?”

“Not bad, I just wish I had the brains to not let the bullet hit my dominant arm,” you rolled your eyes.

“The whole plan was dependent on two things, one is that (Y/N) had the mental fortitude to hold out, and the other is that we needed to ensure the Charlatan thought he won, both of which were satisfied,” Hongjoong says. 

“And now all that’s left is to turn the sucker in,” Wooyoung claps his hands. “Vigilantes will be loved again!” He says hopefully.

“Well… not exactly,” Yunho shakes his head. He points toward the TV.

“This just in, the reward for turning in rogue vigilantes has been significantly increased to garner more incentive among the general public. Please check the police department’s website to see the updated reward amounts,” the newscaster said. 

“Aww, man, what the hell?!” Wooyoung cries.

“We’ll just never be in a good light for them, huh?!” San laments.

“After all the shit we went through? Are they serious?” Mingi’s voice was dejected.

“They really just hate us, huh?” Yeosang mutters.

“Wait, I thought we had a deal with the police?” Seonghwa asks.

“There wasn’t a deal, I told professor Jung that we weren’t interested, so we never got any protection from the police force,” Hongjoong explained. “Which, in hindsight, maybe it would have been nice so we wouldn’t have had to deal with this headache, but I digress.”

“But maybe they’ll be kind when we hand over the serial killer!” Yunho bargains.

“No, we will definitely be arrested on the spot,” Seonghwa shakes his head. “Property damage, reckless endangerment, probably manslaughter, and who knows what else? We’re felons, Yunho.”

“Way to take the fun out of our victory,” Yunho frowns.

“It’s so shitty that this is how the city still treats us,” San grumbles.

“Again, if I may direct your attention to the TV,” Yunho cuts in.

“… but despite the increased rewards, many citizens were seen voicing their support for the vigilantes and even showing excitement in regards to the newest team-up of vigilantes we’d recently seen. Could this be the stepping stone to a new era?”

“Oh, I take it back,” San whistles. “I guess we did good, huh?” He grins.

“It’ll be slow, but I can see vigilantes being accepted once again,” Jongho says.

“Wait, but I still have a couple questions,” Mingi says. “About the new plan, I mean.”

“Fire away,” Hongjoong invites him to continue.

“Wait, yeah!” Wooyoung cuts in. “Why didn’t you tell any of us? I had to hear the details while (Y/N) beat the shit out of me.”

“Beat the shit out of you? Did you see me?!” Mingi points at himself.

“Wait, breaking the knife handle was so clever,” Seonghwa says.

“I know, right?” Mingi smiles. “(Y/N) was like ‘I’ll break the handle on this so pretend I broke you arm’ and I was like ‘metal, okay.’”

“I can’t believe I had no idea,” Jongho shakes his head.

“(Y/N) and I decided to keep it on a need to know basis to ensure that everything went smoothly. Like I said, we had to be certain that the Charlatan thought he won,” Hongjoong explains. 

“I didn’t even have a clue until Hongjoong told me right after I fired the first shot,” Seonghwa shook his head.

“Shit… now that’s saying something,” Yunho crosses his arms.

“Any other questions before we bury this hatchet?” Hongjoong asks.

“Yeah,” Yeosang rose his hand. “What is this insurance you keep talking about? Vigilante insurance? What does it cover?”

“It’s not literal insurance, I meant Jongho,” Hongjoong nods his head toward the youngest member.

“Oh, why?” Yeosang asks.

“I’m a time traveller,” Jongho says absently.

“Oh, fun,” Yeosang grabs a slice of pizza. “Wait… what the hell did you just say?!”

“I’m a time traveller,” Jongho points at his wristwatch. “With this device I can go back to any point in my timeline that I had it.”

“Yeah? Prove it then,” San insists. Jongho adjusts his wristwatch.

“On your left, Mingi,” he says without looking. Mingi moves to the right just in time for the overhead light to fall and just barely graze Mingi’s right arm.

“… whoa,” Mingi gasps. “You’re a time traveller.”

“Yes. Although I had no idea of the plan either.”

“Need to know basis,” Hongjoong repeats. “(Y/N) said that if all went wrong, then you’d fix it,” Hongjoong looks to Jongho.

“They’re right, I would have. I’ve been trying since forever now, actually, but this time I have a good feeling,” Jongho nods.

“Wait, forever? How long have you known how to time travel?!” Yeosang asks.

“A while.”

“How long is a while?” San asks.

“Who knows?”

“You know!” Yunho shouts.

“But do I really?”

“Yes!” Mingi’s turn. “Wait, now I need like a rundown on how time travel works.”

“Sure, I guess,” Jongho takes a deep breath and starts to explain all the details, maybe too many details, and after the first hour of the explanation, it was clear the others had had enough. “Then, using this specific metal, I was able to avoid the radar of the Sectors, long story, took forever to escape that prison, so—”

“Breaking news! The Charlatan has been turned in as of right now!” The newscaster’s voice was loud and, suddenly, everyone turned to the head of the table, seeing two chairs empty, and soon they were in front of the TV. “Just moment’s ago, the Ace of Spades came to the precinct with Lee Muyeol, father of the late Ace of Diamonds Lee Jeno, in hand and explained to the officers the situation. Despite earlier sightings, the Ace of Spades insisted that they found the Charlatan on their own and they turned him in even knowing that there were orders to have them arrested as soon as they were found. Now that’s vigilante justice! The Ace of Spades, identity still kept a secret, is now on their way to a highly secured prison made especially for vigilantes. More on this story as it is updated.”

“That crafty little…” Yunho trails off.

“(Y/N) took the fall for us…” Mingi says in awe.

“(Y/N) took the credit from us!” San corrects him.

“(Y/N) is in jail for us!” Yeosang gasps.

“I’m more concerned of when they slipped out,” Jongho mumbles as he removes his wrist watch. “I never thought that they’d do that for us,”

“But… we’re definitely breaking them out, right?” Seonghwa asks.

“Oh, yeah, definitely,” Hongjoong nods.

“What's the plan, boss?” Wooyoung smiles.

“Operation 2 of the…” Hongjoong waits for someone to finish his sentence.

“Team name! Time to brainstorm a team name! (Y/N) is just going to have to deal with whatever name we choose since they’re not here to add input!” Wooyoung says.

“Any ideas?” Hongjoong asks. Everyone’s silent.

“How about…” Jongho hums. “ATEEZ?” He offers. He is met with silence.

“What does that even mean?” San shakes his head in confusion.

“I was trying to incorporate the A’s on our uniform.”

“To be fair and transparent with you guys, the A is actually there because I wanted the discount, if I added a letter then I saved like 40% on the group order,” Yunho says.

“Really?” Seonghwa grimaces.

“I’m the Broker, I need to make a profit somehow,” Yunho scoffs, lighting the fuse for another entirely tangential debate.

“We still need a name, guys,” Hongjoong refocuses the topic and, as everyone begun to brainstorm possible ideas, the news continued on.

“Meanwhile, any vigilante still active or newly active are to be considered outlaws. As accordance to the vigilante ban, you must report anything and anyone related to vigilante justice,” the newscaster says.

And it was like a lightbulb had turned on.

~

Sitting inside your prison cell shouldn’t have been this peaceful. It was cold, bleak, the walls were white and the wall in front of you a perfect clear. Bulletproof, powerproof, lifeproof, nothing was getting through that glass. The only way in and out was the door to the side, highly secured, padded, locked, probably trapped. You didn’t want to try it. Ironically enough, this was the most relaxed you’d ever been. Your conscious had never felt more clear and a weight had been removed from your shoulders. Even if you’d never go back to your vigilante life, you did the right thing in the end. You turned in the monster that had been killing your friends and hurting much others. Maybe this would be a good way to start your retirement? Twenty years of reflection. You looked up at the ceiling. At least you had a safe place to stay, guaranteed three meals a day, and even a somewhat comfortable bed.

You didn’t know what to do next, you didn’t know much actually, but what you did know was that you owed so much to those eight boys. You couldn’t, in good faith, let them get arrested after that whole ordeal. If anyone was going to turn this whole Vigilante Ban around, it was them. And if so many timelines had been doomed because of you interference then maybe that was some kind of sign for you that it was time to hang up the costume for good. After your sentence maybe you’d move to a new country and start a new life, or something romantic like that. Your future was in your hands now and you couldn’t wait to see what those eight will do in the future, you were definitely going to keep tabs on them anyway.

“Stay in your place, inmate, don’t make any sudden movements or we will sedate you,” the guard suddenly orders. You looked at him without moving.

“Sure,” you responded. The door behind him opened and the last person you’d ever expected to see walked in. The guard excused himself and exited the room, locking the door behind him.

Professor Jung, meanwhile, sat across from you, with nothing but the glass wall separating you two.

“Well, well, so you’re the fantastic Ace of Spades,” he says. You rose an eyebrow.

“Expecting someone else, Professor? Someone more remarkable, no doubt,” you nodded.

“Oh, no, you’re perfect,” he smiles. 

“How’d you figure it out? I could’ve been anyone.”

“I’ve always known. Who do you think appealed the courts to keep your identity a secret?” He asks, not expecting an answer. He looks up at the camera. Within moments, it sparks and dies. You sat up now, more alert than before. “Don’t worry, that wasn’t me,” he says. “Friend of mine, though, I’m afraid I’m very limited in time, so I’ll make this quick,” he stands up and approaches the door, easily pushing it open at the swipe of his key card. You stand up now too, taking steadying steps back. “Relax, relax, I’m not here to hurt you, rather, I want to make you an offer,” he says.

“I’m listening.”

“Your little team up, I’m impressed, you’re a very good team player, but really, you’re always on the sidelines, aren’t you, (Y/N)?” He makes sure to emphasize your name. “The Aces and this new team of vigilantes, why do you allow your talents to go hidden for so long?” He asks.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, sir,” you reply.

“I want to hire you, (Y/N),” he says. “I want to have you lead an elite team I’m putting together, and I think you’ll be rather fond of your position,” he says. “You’ll have funding, of course. Provided by me through a third party to ensure both of our safeties,” he adds.

“Why me, sir?”

“Why you? I told you already. You’re perfect,” he repeats. “I should specify that these jobs you’ll be taking on, they’re not exactly stellar, they won’t be as clean as the Charlatan mission was,” he says.

“Ah, so it’s not that I’m perfect, I’m replaceable,” you corrected him.

“You could put it that way,” Jaehyun hums. “I’d say that you’re just good at your work. I’ve followed your movements for a while now, and after observing you in this operation, I had to give you this offer.”

“And if I say no?”

“Then you stay here, serve the rest of your twenty year sentence,” he shrugs. “Or, you come work for me.”

“What kind of jobs will I be doing?”

“Anything, but you’d mainly be working on assassinations,” he answers almost too casually. You narrowed your glance.

“I refuse your offer,” you answered quickly. “I do many things, but I don’t kill,” you say. Jaehyun lowers his glance.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, (Y/N). You’ve killed, many people, you just don’t want to accept it,” he says. You didn’t answer. “Plus, I think you’ll be interested in who your first target is. Don’t you want your closure?” He asks. You pressed your lips together. “Blackguard. He needs to be removed from the picture,” Jaehyun says. You remain silent. “Don’t play dumb, (Y/N), I know you know. Choi San killed Eric, don’t you want some justice for that?” He asks.

“I do,” you answer. “But not this way.”

“Hm, maybe I read you wrong then,” Jaehyun sighs.

“It’s too early to make any moves anyway,” you muttered. “Why do you want him gone?”

“Lets just say he didn’t just kill one person, (Y/N),” Jaehyun says with an elusive smile. “Of course, if Blackguard is off the table, I have a list of others instead. If you agree to work with me, I’m sure we’ll be a wonderful team,” he offers once again. You looked around your cell. “If you really think about it, it’s not as different as what you were doing before, only now you get a salary,” he says.

“Ah… what the hell, beats spending twenty years in here,” you sighed. “When do I start?”

“Immediately,” he says. “Any questions?” He asks.

“You still haven’t answered mine,” you say. “Why me?” Jaehyun looks to the ground for a moment.

“Have you heard of that saying? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer?” He asks. You nodded your head. He walks up to you and holds his hand out for a handshake. “I know you have me completely figured out, and I can’t afford to have you loose while I know this,” he says. You stared at his hand, thinking back to everything you’d learned over the course of the last few weeks. You did have him figured out. “So, what do you say, Spades? Do you actually accept my offer?” He asks. So, he knew you were lying. To be fair, you were planning on making a break as soon as you stepped foot out of this facility, but if your hunch was right then you knew better than to chance that.

“If I refuse… you’re going to kill me, aren’t you?” You ask. Jaehyun smiles. “Well then… I accept your offer, Loveholic.” Without another word, you shook his hand.

The Outlaws and the Ace of Spades will return in ‘Out of Sight.’

Ending Author's Note:

Hello, hi, hey, everyone! Holy shit, I finished this bad boy. After, drum roll please, 352 pages, and a grand total of 98,500 words (holy shit!) Without a Trace is officially finished!! I cannot believe that I actually finished it lmao but here we are with a completed fic! My second completed fic altogether (minus Covalence, which was released originally as a oneshot).

I started this fic like, what, two years ago? I know she's an oldie, this one, not old enough to be on the old blog but definitely old enough. So to those who stuck around, thank you! And to those who just joined, thank you again! I couldn't have finished this fic without you all and for that I'm thankful! I can't wait to tap into another ATEEZ fic soon, though, y'all know I love writing content for them!

But, regardless, thank you to all of you who supported this series! I am so thankful for all of you for taking time to read this little fic of mine. Who knows what I'll work on now lol, but I don't think Out of Sight will be released in a while, or at least until I complete another series, but y'all will see once it's out!

Until then, thank you. I hope you're all having a wonderful day, a safe night, and a fun summer!

Love Always, Crys

General Tag List: @stopeatread @bat-shark-repellant @raeincitizen @umbralhelwolf @yangsrose @kazooms @sadcoffeecritic 

Without a Trace: @naiify @sunsethw4 @leesalts @toxic-babexe 

If you want to be added to either tag list or removed just send me a reply to this post, and ask, or a DM and I’ll add you as soon as possible!

[weakherodiaries]

SPOILERS ALERT - Last Episode Reaction (Rant Part 2)

Tw: DEPRESSION, SUICIDE

Nah.. it turns out that for the sake of my blood pressure, I had to make two rant posts in a row.

Thank you, Seopass-jakkanim for writing and creating this wonderful work with Kim Jinseok-nim, but I'm sorry that I can't be lenient about the less pleasing parts. So here is my reaction and long rant part 2 (not that you two writers or anyone would care, but I had to vent). I also included the pleasing parts at the end of the post.

First, you developed the characters' backgrounds in such a meticulous and detailed way and now you've abandoned them, or so I heard, to move on to another work. I mean gosh GOSH. Thank you for creating them BUT NO, THANK YOU for abandoning their proper arc resolutions. What would Sehan / Forrest and the others do? What would Jihoon / Jimmy do? Why are you left them stranded? Who exactly is Seongje / Wolf?

I appreciate that you tried to highlight the issues on young males' mental health problems by writing one character as suicidal (YES IT WAS HINTED THAT BAEKJIN / DONALD WAS SUICIDAL THAT NIGHT, WELL GUESS WHAT, IT WASN'T WRITTEN REALLY CLEARLY, WAS IT? Hmph) and another as depressed (SIEUN /GRAY, WHO ELSE) BUT you don't do that in a swoosh kind of way. No matter if they're suddenly reunited with their crush or best friend or whoever. What the hell was that? Show them being encouraged, show them opening up.

You introduced juvenile crimes and adult crimes into the plot and it's good, but now it's come to nothing. Why were they inserted into the story in the first place? To emphasize Baekjin's cruelty? As if school violence cases alone isn't enough? You could've just highlighted the school violence aspect. Now that part of the plot is left unresolved.

I understand why you make Seokhyeon / Kingsley so obsessed and that he has now dragged Dongha and Seongmok into this, who didn't look very happy or pleased about it. I MEAN PLEASE LET THEM GO? I know that they did wrong but they were minors and this is fiction, fgs.

You make sure that friendship is one of the key themes of the story but after that death, everything comes to a standstill. Is that it? Is that the point? But why, when your characters are minors with their future ahead of them? Why deny Seokhyeon, Dongha and Seongmok future too, when this is fiction and you're in a hurry to wrap things up for Sieun, Suho and the others?

Well I must be fair that there are good things in the last episode, though. These are them.

Hakho / Jake who found closure with himself and moving on to take care of Gwangseok /Kenny

Suho being okay although it doesn't seem that he's gone back to school (again, a reality with many bullying survivors).

The kids went to meet Suho / Stephen together with Sieun to Donghae area. No school trip scene, though. Everything is cut.

Jihwan (Sieun's old friend) being surprised that the monster Baku/Big Ben is Humin and is all smiley.

And he was so shocked that the famous White Mamba a.k.a Baeksa (the White Snake of Legend) is none other than Sieun. BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

Well there you go. It's been a wild ride and I still have some more stuff to post (lighter, happier ones). For now, ciao.

[andromedaexists]

The Death I Gave Him || Em X. Liu

★★★★★

TW: SELF HARM (ON PAGE, WARNED), SUICIDAL IDEATION, SUICIDE (PAST, MENTIONED), MAJOR + SIDE CHARACTER DEATH

I feel like I need to mention how this book was recommended to me

Now that we know this very relevant background: The Death I Gave Him is one of the most mind meltingly fucked up thing I've read in a while, and I've gotten into erotic horror as of late

It is a queer and sci-fi retelling of hamlet that managed to be even more fucked up than the original, something I didn't think possible. Did it hit the sci-fi mark? Yes absolutely as soon as Horatio was introduced that was a yes. Is it queer? 100% it is because idk how else to describe what happens with Hayden and Horatio. Is it Hamlet??? Absolutely it is Hamlet may not be present by name but good fucking lord is the story interwoven into the very fabric of this book.

This book is also very unique in it's presentation, which I fucking love omg. It starts with a prologue that's less of a prologue and more of an academic introduction into the rest of the book. You see, this book and the recounting of what happened that night in Elsinore Labs is a recreation by a student a hundred years later based on what remaining evidence they have of the events. This is really fucking cool!!! Please give me more books like this!!! Learning about the student and their motivations through footnotes in the book is so fucking awesome!! Seeing where they had evidence for what happened versus where they created a fictional account based on personality, probability, and remaining dialog…. Stunning. Truly.

I also quite loved the interspersing of mediums in this book. We have traditional fictionalized prose mixed in with excerpts from Felicia's article after the events mixed in with readings from Horatio's systems and message logs from Felicia's pager!

It's all just so brilliant.

I'm making the call here to add the spoiler warning because I want to get into the characters a bit, so just be warned [SPOILERS AHEAD]

So, as per Hamlet, the first thing to happen is the death of the King. This time, our King is Dr. Graham Lichfield. A renowned scientist and researcher working on the Sisyphus Formula.

His son is Hamlet, of course. He's known as Hayden in this book and we get to see his descent into madness mostly through other people's (or other AI's) eyes. He is a pathetic man with no spine, just the way Hamlet should be.

Hayden's Uncle is Charles, of course. He didn't work on research with Graham and Hayden, but he does run the labs more or less.

Then we have the security guard: Rasmussen. I think he's supposed to be a stand in for Rosencrantz & Gildenstern, but honestly I read Hamlet back in high school and though I watch it at least once a year (David Tennant is the best Hamlet, I will die on this hill), I don't really ever remember Rosencrantz & Gildenstern. So this is just an educated guess.

From here, we have the Xia's. Felicia Xia and her father, Paul Xia. They are security and they are our Ophelia and Polonius. The brother exists as well in Arthur Xia, however he is not physically in the building and does not show up until literally the last chapter.

That leaves one. Horatio. Also knows as the Elsinore Labs Operating System. He is the AI of the building that has slowly gained consciousness over Hayden's life. He is also intrinsically linked to Hayden after the man turns on his NeuralLink so we know a lot about what's going on in Hayden's head because that's where Horatio resides.

Of course another key player in Hamlet was his mother, and while she is present as a character, she is not physically in the building.

And why do I keep saying physically in the building? Well that's because after the death of Graham; Hayden, Charles, Rasmussen, Paul and Felicia Xia, and Horatio are locked into Elsinore Labs. That's right, this is a locked door thriller.

This book is everything to me, like I am genuinely just so…. god I can't even think of the words for it and I am writing this the day after I finished it!!!

I was on the edge of my seat the entire way through the book, especially when we get lines like these:

It was Hayden Lichfield who I remembered. Not because he was brilliant (though he was), but because he was afraid.

Hayden Lichfield was afraid of death, because he was afraid of failure, and he spent his whole life trying to reverse it.

Hayden was not like me, but he was afraid of the same things that I was, and his fear changed the world.

What we understand of Horatio is inextricably entangled in what we understand of Hayden.

I would haunt you very cautiously. Leave some vague messages alluding to my existential dread in your shower every morning. Nothing special.

The Sisyphus Formula wasn't enough. It was never enough.

Do you want to live because you want to live, or because you're afraid to die?

Then be afraid. I will take you afraid and alive over anything else.

He splits himself open, willing or not, digs fingers into himself, thinks maybe the edges of death are pressing in at the edges, maybe finally he will find repentance here at the end of all things.

Just because you've been a jackass doesn't mean you've messed everything up irrevocably. You'll have good days and shit days and eventually there'll just be days, you know?

I am feral for this book, I am foaming at the mouth. I need to be buried with this book when I die. This book is intrinsically a part of who I am not in the same way that The Teras Trials and Bloom are. It speaks to something in my very soul

Anyways! I think that's really all I can say on this book without writing a whole ass analysis of it (which I would gladly do if people wanted that), so I will leave it here!

[totacrbattery]

The weirdness of LilaCream in TotaCR

because good lord is it weird

tw: suicide, mental unhealthiness, angsty shit

So, Lilac and Yogurt Cream's relationship in totarun is really strange. I found it weird how Lilac is so tolerable of someone so lazy and uninterested in daily life like Yogurt Cream, and the way he just kind of...devotes himself to him without much thought to it is off-putting considering Lilac's emotional depth as a character. I understand Yogurt Cream in canon is Lilacs first real friend and the one person who makes him feel human after the Sneaky Sands Clan, (Abbreviated to SSC for the rest of this post) but I feel like their relationship wouldn't be all sunshine and rainbows for at least the beginning of it. I also really hate the "really rich lazy bitch" trope in fiction. I noticed Yogurt Cream isn't completely opposed to adventure in canon, seeking out treasures on his own on multiple occasions, so I tweaked the source of his "laziness"; depression. (Laziness in quotes because obviously people with depression aren't lazy.) In tota, Lilac and Yogurt Cream meet each other the same way they do in canon, via Plain Yogurt hiring him to assassinate Yogurt Cream. However, Lilac is coming directly from a place of emotional and physical abuse (because let's be real for a minute here, if you're raised in a clan of assassins and killing for money is all you have ever known, you are bound to be a little fucked up in the head) and he doesn't understand the concept of wealth and luxury until he meets Yogurt Cream, who is completely and utterly miserable living a life where he doesn't need to work for anything.

Now would be a good time to mention a few things.

I promise I'm not a sadist (this part is a joke)

I headcanon that Lilac is on the spectrum. With his sheltered childhood and no concept of true human emotion, I think Lilac would an extremely difficult time understanding why Yogurt Cream is so miserable despite having everything someone could ask for. This lack of understanding caused a majority of their arguments, and of course neither of them understood the real messed up state of Lilac's mind and thought processes.

Because of their horrendously clashing backgrounds, Lilac and Yogurt Cream fight constantly. Always with words, never physical, unless you count their very last argument where Yogurt Cream finally snaps, dramatically grabs Lilac by his collar, and tells him just how depressed he is, how miserable his brother and his father make him, and despite their constant bickering, how real and full of life Lilac makes him feel. From this argument forward, Lilac begins to notice the signs of his rapidly declining mental health, making him more wary of his words. Their relationship begins to heal, and they develop feelings for one another.

However, because I am incapable of making anything joyful, Yogurt Cream is pushed over the edge mentally by his brother, inevitably taking his own life before they could ever tell each other this.

Plain Yogurt never intended for his brother to die. (in that way, at least.) That was never his end goal, and in a last ditch effort to selfishly save his reputation, he framed Lilac for murder. As punishment, Lilac was to be banished from Yogurca.

The only thing Lilac would lose from his punishment was full contact with Scorpion, who basically raised him as an older sister. And four months after Yogurt Cream's death, Lilac is recruited by Red Velvet to join the NAE.

Don't worry; Lilac avenges Yogurt Cream, and he even shows up towards the end of the story.

[sertralineishere]

Welcome to Eucalyptus’s Tumblr page

This is a pinned page that any visitors to my account should read before scrolling down.

You can call me: Ain/Eucalyptus

About pronouns: they/them

Gender: ...Whatever you think I am

Aroace || accept fictional shippings but personally/real life do not want any form of romance || Bilingual || INTP (I swing between INTJ and INTP lol) || >16

Interested fandoms:

Some Roblox games(guts and blackpowder: every NPC but especially Jean and unnamed Prussian Officer💙)/death penalty/Nullxiety/creatures of sonaria/pressure)

fandoms: TMC (the mandela catalogue)*, Death Penalty^, Nullxiety*, creatures of sonaria*, pressure

keys:

*: read related fanfictions and fanarts but do not participate in creating them

^: fanart and fanfiction contents on based on personal guesses and assumptions of the game (since official has not posted any further information)

About each fandom:

G&B:

Okay this is all my personal view you do you, I’m just making clear what I like and what I don’t like.

I don’t care that much as long as they r not too ridiculous. Highlight warning that I do NOT take head canons that involves relating characters background stories (like bro they are npcs who the official couldn’t care less about, sad but the truth. I only follow the canon and SOME fanon depends😉)

As well as creating female original characters in this fandom. It’s fine as long as she is a civilian - anachronistic/historically inaccurate, simple as that.

Roblox Death Penalty:

Well now the whole entire thing is my head canon now lol.

Personally call the screen the Announcer/Simon/Damien(<- name from other creators in the fandom!)

Pressure:

I don’t know mate…I just play the game that’s all.

Interested areas/fields:

Philosophy, psychology, medicine, psychiatry

Things I dislike:

Politics related

Racism (BIG HATE, don't let me encounter this)

Homophobia (any disrespect or prejudice toward

Inappropriate nsfw (18+ CONTENT especially)

(pls be nice and polite under my any of my blogs!)

Other small stuffs:

First of all, I respect everyone.

However, if you are a self shipper who do not put on the right tag for your art please do not follow I won't care if you put on the right tag but if you don't I will take that as you do not consider other people's feelings. It’s something I personally don’t enjoy.

I also typically don’t like head canon that consider characters to be somehow family-associated. I don’t mind most of the ships unless they are too ridiculous.

TW content:

g0r3 content (crimson drawings)

expression of mental states (might be dark, depressing)

use of bright vibrant colours (sometimes) can cause pain in eyes or further body pain

My tags for my random shits and thoughts:

#sertralineisthinking

My tag for any stuff posted by me:

#sertralinesplace

Other than this, have fun!

[keepthisholykiss]

La Ruta is a tragic play written by Isaac Gomez that was originally performed in 2018. I am going to include photos from the original performance in 2018 as there aren’t production photos from the one I saw tonight and I want to tell you about this phenomenal play. TW below for femicide and death. Full TW list is on the website for the play and my longer explanation is below (no explicit spoilers)

La Ruta tells a fictionalized version of the very real and raw story of femicide happening in Ciudad Juárez in Mexico. The play takes place from the late 1990s until the early 2000s. These femicides still run rampant today however the time period highlighted in the play is around the origins of Casa Amigas and the Ni Una Mas movement which sought to bring awareness to this issue and make change in the horrifying reality of the missing and murdered girls. The image below is of the real-life pink crosses that are displayed to represent the women who have been taken, killed, and assaulted. Pink crosses can be found in many different locations and used to mark those lost to femicide.

La Ruta tells the tale of complicated grief, loss, and fear through the lens of fictionalized versions of real people’s stories. The playwright made it a point to represent real voices of those impacted by femicide and you can feel it in every piece of the writing. It is a raw story with screams, singing, sobs, and searching for answers to questions nobody should ever have to ask. Each of the characters represents a role in the entangled web of death and destruction within this horrifying reality.

As someone who grew up during this time period and was raised by friends and their families who had direct or indirect experiences like this I found the story realistic and important to hear and see. It’s a beautifully put together play and the cast we saw was phenomenal. If you grew up in Spanish-speaking households crying over the death of Selena and getting hit with your mom’s friend’s chancla then this is a story made for you. And if you didn’t grow up with any of those things then this play is not for you but is a story you need to hear. If you are ever able to read, see, or just watch this play online please do it is worth every moment. To learn more about the play you can visit the website for the rights and background here. And to learn more about the unsolved and horrific femicides in Ciudad Juárez you should read books on the topic and hear stories from people in Mexico. Some well-known books on the topic include Making a Killing: Femicide, Free Trade, and La Frontera by Alicia Gaspar de Alba, The Daughters of Juarez by Teresa Rodriguez, and If I Die in Juárez by Stella Pope Duarte. 

[aniron48]

i love your mexican q because ben whishaw's dad is (very randomly) called jose and it makes me laugh every time i remember it. like why on earth does this russian man have a spanish name!?!?! so him being given a mexican background actually makes more sense than the reality.

Ahhhh Anon, thank you for sharing this tidbit, I love it so much! I had no idea Ben Whishaw's dad's name was Jose. 😁 On the subject of names, one of my absolute favorite things is how they move across cultures, reflecting all these unexpected ties of friendship and geography and love. I have a Chinese American friend whose parents lived in an apartment building with mostly Mexican American families. Her mother loved the Spanish name of one of their favorite neighbors, and gave it to her daughter when she was born (coincidentally, it's my little sister's name, too). And a family member of mine was given a name that is pretty indicative of the traditional, Mexican Catholic names in the area where I grew up. Shortly after she was born, a beloved friend of her parents stopped by and joked, "She looks like a Betty!" And so Betty she was for the rest of her life, legal name be damned. 💜

And thank you so much for saying that you love Mexican!Q. It's a little bit cheeky of me, projecting so much, but one of the fun things about Whishaw!Q's character is, since we never learn his name, we can read into his background a little, if we choose. I haven't encountered a lot of characters with my experiences or background in fan fiction, and the ability to do a little bit of that in my writing brings me so much joy.

(For those wondering, Mexican!Q makes an appearance in four of my fics. It's most obvious in A Fine Kettle of Phish, offering (TW for major character death in this one, which is about Day of the Dead), and, most recently, come y bebe que la vida es breve. While not explicitly stated, I also wrote Must Love Cats with Mexican!Q in mind, with the idea that Spanish is one of this Q's first languages.)

Thanks again for this, Anon, this made my entire day! 💕

[dearclem]

[ davika hoorne, cis woman, she / her ] - was that KAEO "CLEM" DUPONT i saw by the lighthouse today? i heard that the TWENTY NINE year old who has been in nightrest for HER ENTIRE LIFE and works as an AUTHOR & PODCAST HOST has a reputation of being EMPATHETIC, but also IMPRUDENT. they reside in LOW POINT & people in town usually associate them with  EARLY MORNING FOG CONCEALING THE GROUND, THE SCENT OF FRESH FLOWERS AND OLD BOOKS, & WISHING UPON SHOOTING STARS. let’s hope the killer doesn’t go after them next.   ╱ pinterest. dossier. podcast info.

tw below: brief mentions of illness & maternal death. brief hints of abuse. tw pinterest: things related to mental illness.

BRIEF BACKGROUND!

born to a single mother who eventually passed away due to illness when clem was 5.

during the last two years of her mother's life, she had been working to convince clem's father to come back to town so clem didn't need to go into a home once her mother passed and, after being told of the small savings and life insurance policy he'd be the beneficiary of for the sake of raising clem, he did just that.

however, the love of her mother's life wasn't the same man she'd known ( or thought she did ). he had a temper, drank too much, and enjoyed gambling despite being horrible at it.

every loss was clem's fault and he made her pay for it daily; something that didn't stop until her 8th grade year when he sold her off to the grandma he'd been in debt to. surprisingly, that's exactly when her life finally started to look up.

the grandma cared for her as if she were her own grandchild, and clem never wanted for anything. she was fed, hugged, praised, helped; clem's heart was warm and, slowly, she began to blossom from her shell.

together with her grandma, she got through high school, the breakup with her high school sweetheart, her college degrees ( yes, she got two ), the birth of her podcasts, and the publishing of her first series.

at age 27, her grandma inevitably passes away and leaves her fortune to clem who, to this day, hasn't touched a lick of it. after the funeral, clem used the money she'd made from her book to relocate from stoughton estates to low point, where she's been ever since.

MESSY HEADCANONS!

--- participated in track throughout high school after being convinced by her grandma to try out rather than sticking to running around the neighborhood.

--- her nickname ( & preferred name ) clem was given to her by her mother who only ever seemed to crave clementines throughout the length of her pregnancy.

--- because of her home life after losing her mother, clem threw herself into studying and escaped via books, which is where her love of the latter came from and why she was always one of the top in the class when it came to her grades.

--- in usual clem fashion, after her relationship ended, she threw herself further into her studies & duel majored in creative writing ( focusing on fiction ) and psychology; received a bachelors in both and continued her education to get her masters in psychology, mainly to have as a fall back in case the whole author / podcast host thing doesn't work out.

--- speaking of her being an author, she uses what she's learned throughout her psychology degree to help weave the psychological thrillers she writes ( think like the type of books lucinda berry and freida mcfadden write, but clem's characters are always poc ).

--- as for her podcasts, she has two. brief descriptions can be found below, but more in depth information can be found at the link mentioned at the top.

httpfear, which is posted every wednesday: she reads mini horror stories; some are fictional that she's written, some are submitted to her by listeners, some are urban legends, etc. basically if it's horror related, it may be discussed.

dear clem, which is posted every monday & friday: it's an advice podcast, essentially. she centers each episode around a handful of questions sent in by her listeners that relate to a specific topic and she offers her opinion. she tells her own related stories, if she has any, discusses psychological and/or philosophical thoughts or theories that relate to said topic, etc.

--- has a siamese kitten named dao ( which means star ) and she loves her dearly.

--- i just realised i haven't really talked about her personality much, so i'll touch on that now. she's a soft lil cinnamon roll who will go above and beyond for literally anyone; is loyal to a fault; is always willing to offer an ear and/or shoulder, even if you were to show up on her doorstep at an ungodly hour; the best at keeping secrets; can be a lil' on the naive / gullible side and won't normally question anything you tell her unless she already knows different or has multiple reasons not to believe you ( and i really do mean multiple ); is deathly afraid of abandonment which is partly why she's as agreeable as she is and whenever she thinks abandonment is something she's going to experience, she can seem like a different person.

--- whereas writing is her preferred art style, she also enjoys painting and sewing. she has many of her paintings hung throughout her living space and the majority of her scrunchies / hair bows are sewed by her. probably gives them as gifts to her friends and random strangers, too.

--- flowers / plants are things she loves immensely, so don't be surprised when she stops to admire them whenever they're around. a very good person to hang around if you realise you haven't taken the time to "stop & smell the flowers" yourself in life.

--- also, given her love of flowers and her obsessive need to have fresh ones throughout the entirety of her living space, her signature scent is very flowery. the type of flower(s) can change depending on season, time of day, and event ofc but. if you get a sudden whiff of flowers, you'll almost always find clem nearby.

--- very quiet, in every aspect: the way she lives, the way she talks, the way she walks, etc. piggybacking off the aforementioned, would definitely be the type who could sneak up on just about anyone, if only her scent didn't give her away.

--- is very sensitive to the energies of others. given the years spent with her father, she's always looking for tells and notices small changes in the demeanor of others. always blames herself when it changes, too.

--- writes under a pen name. the timeline, mostly for myself, of her books is: published her first book during her senior year of university at age 22, which was part of a 4-book series, with one book being published each year ( she'd been working on them since high school ). published the last book of the series at age 25. took a break to enjoy time with her grandma and do the whole graduation thing with her masters. released a stand-alone book a year later, then her grandmother's health declined & all discussions of future books were put on hold. once her grandma passed, publishing a new book continued to stay on the back burner given the growth of her podcasts. for now, she has no intention of doing anything book related, much to the dismay of her agent, but mayhaps these bodies turning up on the beach is churning the gears? who knows!

[lauriewestwood]

𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝. 𝐡𝐞/𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲.

𝐛𝐢𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐲. | 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬. 

CHARACTER BASICS

Name: Lawrence “Laurie” Jude Westwood Age & DOB: 31, April 25th 1991 Gender & Pronouns: Cisman & He/Him Time in Bradford Springs: 1 year. Sexual Orientation & Marital Status: Heterosexual; Single Occupation: Aspiring Fiction Writer / Part-time Personal Assistant to Dr. Evelyn Mendez Positive Traits: creative, independent, caring, attentive, hopeful Negative Traits: compliant, self-effacing, jealous, cautious, scatterbrained Neighborhood: Apartment in Southside, Bradford Springs

BACKGROUND

tw: parental death & drug mention

It’s been you and your sister for as long as you can remember, attached at the hip even when you can’t stand each other. Given you’re born a year apart, you know there was a brief time before her. You know it was tragic, too. Your parents were young and in love when you were born, the two of them just happy newlyweds who were eager to start their little family in a quiet corner of London. There are a few short months of bliss before all their happiness turns to grief — a car accident takes your mother’s short life, leaving her husband and young son alone. You don’t remember what that time was like, but you can imagine the horrors of your father’s suffering.

He’s never been a solitary creature — it isn’t your father’s nature to wallow in isolation, and he’s no good at being alone. Your mother knew this, too, and would’ve wanted him to find some joy in life again. She’d have wanted him to find a new woman to love, someone who would help raise her son now that she couldn’t. So your father does, and soon after he finds love again comes your sister Bella. There’s no questioning who your family is, growing up with the understanding that Bella’s mom is your mom, too ( any easy conclusion, considering all your scraped knees she kissed, all the lunches she packed for you, all the times she held you as you cried ). You are your little sister’s fierce protector, as well as her constant annoyance. So close in age that it’s always ammunition for an argument, she is the person you most love in this world, though you’re often the first person to piss her off, too.

It doesn’t take long for this family of yours to notice your natural talents for story telling — though your parents might call it lying, the way you can seemingly make up tall tales from nothing. In your school days, you’re surrounded by stories. You become enthralled with books, the magic of getting lost in the pages, emerging hours later as a changed person. As a hungry reader, you turn to writing, too. There’s no doubt that you’re gifted with pen and paper, then encouraged by all your doting teachers, then further rewarded by scholarship committees and prospective colleges. One autumn evening, a letter addressed to you comes and announces that you’ve been accepted to Columbia’s prestigious Creative Writing program, and you feel like fucking magic.

You’re happy out there in New York, for some time at least. Being surrounded by a new world of art and music and poetry and fashion rubs off on you in an instant. You find a new passion in menswear, dressing yourself to the nines for your walk to the store down the block, taking photographs with your group of friends who seem to do it all — they all identify themselves as actors/models/writers/producers/makeup artists and more. At least you’re writing more than ever here. You’re submitting your stuff to publishers, too, something your family always encouraged you to do ( but you never did ). You find friends in the other creatives, fall in and out of love a few times, and everyone else around you makes this life look easy. You try to keep up with them.

Maybe you spent too much time partying and not enough time writing, or maybe all those friends of yours really are just more talented than you. Either way, graduation comes and goes and you’re the only one without some amazing offer for a wildly cool and artistic job. Your friends take positions at magazines, fashion houses, entertainment giants, and more, but you find yourself stuck in NYC working a hundred different part time jobs. You’ve done the fast food thing, retail too, and even a stint working at a call center. You learn quickly that customer service sucks wherever you go. Your family reminds you that you don’t need to rough it out on your own, but your pride refuses them. Meanwhile, you try to find the time to write anything worthwhile — sometimes, you get lucky and make a few hundred bucks by writing articles for everything from clickbait web blogs to cheap fashion magazines, but you feel no closer to any means of success. In the few months you live there, you spend your time getting high, writing a lot, and sending your work to literary agents. No word yet.

Thirty comes and goes. This birthday marks a whole decade of you trying and failing to get your work published, so you take this as a sign: maybe the city isn’t the creative dreamworld you once idolized it to be. Seeking a change of pace, you reach out to your aunt Joelle in Colorado, and ask if you can stay awhile. While the surrounding mountains are beautiful, you haven’t lived here long enough yet to know if they harness any creative magic.

Six months ago, you managed to land a real job, something that got you out of your aunt’s house and into your very own apartment in Southside. A surgeon-turned business woman puts an ad out for a personal assistant, paying an almost stupid amount for how much work you think you’ll be doing. But soon you find out how busy she’ll keep you, running from the night club she owns to the dry cleaner, and then it’s off to the grocery store and over to the hospital, where she moonlights as a fucking surgeon. You’re considering asking her for a raise sometime soon, but you don’t want to fuck this up yet. You’ll need to work for her until you finally manage to write a book anyone actually wants to read.

HEADCANONS

Since working for Evie, you’ve had a bit too much fun making TikToks for work. Mostly, you use this as an excuse to get back into fashion now that you can wear whatever you want to work. Your viral hits include, “A day in the life as a Personal Assistant,” “Styling Joggers for the Office,” and “LOOKBOOK: from 4 o clock meeting with ur boss to happy hour drinks.” Secretly, you’re hoping you can get some sponsorships to help make ends meet.

You’re a reader, but what good writer isn’t? You’ve read all the classics at least three times, though lately, you’ve ventured into the contemporary now that you’re trapped in BookTok, too.

Nothing helps your writing more than weed — thank god there’s finally a recreational dispensary in Bradford Springs. A blunt to yourself and then you can get past that writer’s block, a fog that’s been stuck in your brain ever since you left New York. And, it’s nice to unwind with after a long day of managing your boss’ personal affairs.

You worry that you’ve peaked already, having graduated high school as a golden child with high academic honors and a bright future ahead of you. Oh, how far you’ve come crashing down since then. It’s hard not to compare yourself to all your old friends who’ve graduated from Columbia, and to your family members, and to frankly, most everyone  around you.

You have a dog — a sweet lab named Daisy ( which makes total sense, considering your love for The Great Gatsby ). 

Despite your previous stint in NYC, and the up and coming nightlife in Bradford Springs, you’ve never been big on going out. You typically only hit the clubs on business for Evie.

[merrock]

CHARACTER INFORMATION

face claim: Josh Hutcherson

full name: Edward Cole Mackenzie

nickname(s) / goes by: Eddie

pronouns & gender: he/him, cis man

sexuality: heterosexual

birth date: July 14th, 1992

birth place: Merrock, ME

arrival to merrock: Merrock native!

housing: historical downtown

occupation: tech services

work place: The Memorial Library

family: parents (Marianne & George Mackenzie)

relationship status: single

PERSONALITY

Eddie is a little bit of a disaster. He was pretty sheltered growing up and it shows - he wants to be good at talking to people, but he just generally isn't. He stumbles over his words a lot (unless he's talking about something that interests him, then good luck getting him to stop rambling) and avoids eye contact unless he absolutely has to. While it sometimes reads as shy, more than anything, he just comes across like he's still figuring out how to speak to another human being. But under the awkwardness, he's a pretty friendly, pretty steamroll-able guy. Probably hasn't stood up for himself a day in his life.

WRITTEN BY: Kirby (she/her), cst.

BACKGROUND / BIO

triggering / sensitive content: death tw, child loss tw & anxiety tw

Eddie was born and raised here in Merrock, to a pair of very loving but very protective parents. They'd lost their first child when he was very young, so when Eddie came around, they overcorrected a bit with him. Being homeschooled up until middle school, he grew up pretty lonely and awkward, two traits that very much carried into his adulthood. Once he finally did start attending public school, and later on college, he continued to primarily keep to himself, buried in schoolwork or whatever extra curriculars he could get into. It was just easier than talking to anybody new.

That continued even as he got older, eventually graduating from the local community college with a computer science degree and getting a job at the library in town, which sort of felt like a dream come true for him. Working behind a screen in a place where it was basically frowned upon to talk to other people? Perfect. With a relatively steady income, he moved out of his parents' place when he was twenty-three, something they were both very much protested the entire way. Even with a very small selection of friends, it was still embarrassing to be a grown adult with a curfew.

Since then, he's done a little better for himself - really, really a little. He's started going out a little bit more, when his social anxiety allows, and he found a relatively comfortable friend group. They mainly interact as fictional characters in DnD, but hey, it was better than he was doing a few years ago. He can even maintain eye contact with baristas now (sometimes)!

[yourbestbuddie]

Fictober — Day One - ORIGINAL WORK

<< I thought I’d join this year to get me in the mood for daily writing. I’ll probably go in between fandom and original works. >>

Prompt— “it’s not too late, let’s go.”

TW: Character Death, mentions of blood, mentioned gore, decapitation

“It’s not too late,” a voice said behind him. Oliver turned to see Casper, standing over him. The look of panic that had crossed his face not but twenty minutes before remained, set in stone. Only this time there were splatters of blood covering the left side of his tanned face. “Let’s go. Please. We can get out of here. Winnie dragged Theo out, I saw them. We can get out too.” Casper’s words came out in a choked fashion, and Oliver’s mind was blank for only a few seconds before they registered.

Winnie and Theo. Only Winnie and Theo.

“Cas, you forgot Max and Isabel. Where are they?” Oliver asked. He tried to get to his feet, but swayed and would’ve fallen if Casper hadn’t grabbed him.

“Ollie…. You don’t remember?”

“Cas,” Oliver responded, his words shooting venom. Casper’s eyes were watery, shining with tears that had yet to fall. Oliver gripped Casper’s upper arms with a certain intensity. He needed what Casper was going to say to not be true. “Cas, where did they go? They got out. They got out, I need them to have gotten out.”

“Ollie, I--” Casper looked away, emotion taking over the panicked look on his face. “Ollie, please we need to get out of here.”

“No, no, no.” Oliver shook his head, mostly mumbling to himself. The library didn’t even look like a library anymore. The shelves and books were but piles of lumber and scattered scraps of paper. This had once been Oliver’s favorite place. He was standing where their tutoring sessions had once been-- three days a week which Oliver had originally been so distraught by the thought of. “Where are they?”

“Ollie, this isn’t my blood.” Casper’s words held a whole new meaning that Oliver didn’t want to figure out, but knew in an instant.

“No.” Oliver hadn’t meant for it to come out sounding as a strangled gasp, but it had. Max couldn’t be dead, he just couldn’t. Oliver shook his head and pushed himself from Casper’s grasp. He stumbled away as Casper tried to grab him again, crying out in a warning. Oliver didn’t care. He didn’t care if the Thing was still alive, if it was still lurking in the shadows of the broken library.

Oliver climbed through the piles of rubble. He’d never been the biggest fan of books, especially the ones he’d been forced to read in AP Lang and Lit. There were plenty of people who were enjoyers of the older fiction, who read them and defended them, but Oliver wasn’t one of them. However, seeing the distorted remainders of these books on the floor struck him in a painful way.

He scanned the area, looking for the pale freckled face of his best friend. Or a head covered in smooth black hair. Anything that would give him any indication of where his friend was.

Halfway across the space it dawned on him that he hadn’t just lost his friend, but Cas had lost his sister. His twin, no less.

He felt sick to his stomach. The same feeling that he’d gotten when he and Max had witnessed the police lifting Josh Hankin’s body from the depths of the quarry and when he’d seen Benny Harrison’s head fall from that washing machine in the Laundromat. It was a terrible feeling. He remembered Sammy Patterson telling him about that same feeling during their tutoring sessions the previous fall, when he’d discovered his own friend’s body.

It didn’t cross his mind, why Casper wasn’t following him.

Then he tripped, ripping his thoughts from his brain as he tumbled, floor bound.

He pushed himself up, and then froze, when his gaze met the deep brown eyes of his friend’s. Except this gaze was cold, empty. Lifeless.

It was then that Oliver went mute, screaming, crying out, but no sound was heard. It was like when he turned on the TV but kept it on mute, because all he wanted was something to have on in the background, but not a distraction.

He scrambled to his feet and ran to where his friend laid. Isabell was nowhere to be seen and a memory started to poke through from earlier in the day, one that he’d briefly forgotten after being knocked out a few minutes before. A cold breeze, a cloudless sky, an almost empty field, and a pile of forget-me-nots, enough to cover a body.

He shoved the thought from his mind as he collapsed next to Max, taking him up in his arms and sobbing as he clutched the body to his chest. He couldn’t remember crying this hard before. He doesn’t think he’d like to again. It was painful, if he was crying enough to not make any sound.

He didn’t like silence, but it engulfed him as he sat in the corner of the library, completely unaware of his surroundings.

He was crying so hard that the tears blurred his vision. So he shut his eyes.

Crying would be his downfall.

He died in the place that had once been his favorite, surrounded in silence, and clutching the body of his best friend.

He should’ve listened when Casper told him to leave.

These are my OCs in a story that I have like 25K words for so far, so I think fictober will help me write more of them (:

[gender-trash]

actually i wanna jump off this post and talk abt filtering for a hot second because tag and post text filtering is THE killer feature tumblr has over All Other Social Media for me and i want it to be maximally good. (like, on twitter the post filtering literally doesn't work on the chronological feed, and if people want to include CWs they have to be in the POST BODY so 1) you can't add additional warnings to stuff you retweet (unless you QRT, but i feel like it would be considered weird/argumentative to qrt a post just to add warnings) and 2) it counts AGAINST THE CHARACTER LIMIT. and also due to the structure of twitter as a website, the Issue Du Jour is MUCH more inescapable in fandom spaces. also, a pettier concern, but it's impossible to blacklist fandoms you don't care about or want to see; i will probably never watch new trigun at this point because after danmei twitter's relentless obsession with it i've quite simply seen Too Much. not to even MENTION my beloathed gensh*n *mpact.)

ANYWAY, the bird hellsite aside...

i think "semi-standardized" tumblr content warning tags tend to emerge spontaneously sometimes, out of the primordial froth -- like, if you warn for Presence Of Food your tag is probably "food cw" or "tw: food" or the like, and if i have an eating disorder triggered by images of food, i can just stick "food" in the tumblr tag blacklist and i'll be fine. or, actually, if anyone ELSE reblogging the post before you has tagged it "food cw" the filter will also catch it and i'll be fine.

however, the set of Emergent Standardish Tumblr Tags is kind of idiosyncratic; it includes "scopophobia" and "flashing lights" and the very vaguely defined "unreality" but not "ai generated images" or "fake post" or "reblog coercion" (you know, the "reblog or something bad will happen" ones). the latter three are all things i personally tag for (for the record i probably have about 95% reliability with CW tags; i will try to hit 99% if someone who follows me specifically requests a tag but i also can't guarantee tags will be fully propagated into my archives).

in this particular case, if people tag posts about The Submarine with *any* content warning they usually tag them "death" or "violence" from what i've seen (or "current events", which is good actually and i wish more people did that). and enough people tag instances of *fictional* death or violence with those content warnings that those tags are functionally useless for me to blacklist (i'm, uh, in the naruto fandom). the problem is that there's *no* canonical tag for Real Life Mass Death, which means that i have about ten terms related to mass shootings blacklisted and despite my best efforts i STILL find out about every mass shooting from poasts on tumblr dot com, and the mood whiplash from posts about cat pictures or isopods to "FIFTY PEOPLE ARE DEAD" fucks me up really bad.

the other problem is untagged goddamn screenshots from goddamn twitter.

@23rdhunter's tags:

#y'all reblogging untagged screenshots. please.

i know i have no real room to judge here because i screenshot things instead of copy/pasting them all the time (tumblr tags are not selectable in the ios mobile app which is where i mainly post from), but these are terrible for several reasons: first, the words-in-post-body filter won't catch them; second, screen reader users can't read them; third, they take WAY longer to load for people on slow internet. but also, everyone seems to use twitter dark mode and light-text-on-dark-background is eye-straining for me (and makes my eyesight actively worse if i read light-on-dark text for too long, for some fucking reason; i have theories, but this post isn't about my bizarre eye issues). OCR is pretty good now! i don't understand why we don't have a tumblr feature -- or, hell, some third-party tool -- where you can paste in a screenshot and get a copyable text version. or, like, a tumblr feature that OCRs screenshots and automatically adds alt text if none was provided.

(wait, i'm a programmer. i could BUILD the third-party tool. remind me to come back to that one)

but ALSO also i think we need a norm of being a little more careful or thorough with content tags on screenshots. even if people don't content warn their tumblr text posts at *all* i can usually knock out 95% of content i'd like blacklisted with text filters, but the untagged goddamn twitter screenshots make it through every time. and the twitter screenshots are always the WORST takes, because twitter is a cesspit. maybe we should start content warning for twitter.

anyway my final thought -- god DAMN it i think i saw someone post about this last night, maybe @kodicraft?, and now i can't find the post -- is that it is unreasonably difficult to blacklist names of Famous People You Are Tired Of Hearing About. the example in the post i saw was "elon" because elon is also in "melon" and "elongate" and a lot of other common english words; i've been having a similar struggle with "trump" since about 2017. and then there's the thing where everyone gives them a billion nicknames like "elongated muskrat" or "orange man". i don't know what the solution to this is. i hesitate to request everyone tag their elonpoasting "elon musk". thoughts??

(if you reblog this post with comment and i don't seem to ack your reply, DM me or send me an ask? by necessity it includes about fifteen different things i have blacklisted so i will probably miss a lot of reblogs)

can you fuckers please consistently content warn for maritime disasters or something? i've resigned myself to never again seeing a post about any submarine good or bad but my filters are only catching like a third of the posts and it's giving me really incredibly bad brainworms . thanks