#Secret Enigma Rambles

[fyodoro]

UNEXPECTED LOVERBOY

-> in which you overhear your calm and secretive boyfriend gushing over you like there’s no tomorrow (1.1k wc)

Cw) gn!reader, manga characters (no spoilers), sakura still malfunctions when it comes to romance topics

Calling Hayato Suo an enigma would be an understatement.

Not a soul knows what lies under that eye patch. He’s calm, collected, and composed at almost all times, but it was a task of its own to grasp why. It’s impossible to catch him eating anything other than teacakes, and he often replaces his meals with a hot cup of tea. He claims to be on a diet, but every diet needs some protein incorporated into it.

Everything there is to know about Suo can be followed up with the same question: “Why?” and “What?”

However, there was an exception to his mysterious nature: You.

Of course, you didn’t know that. Hell, even Suo failed to notice his quite obvious soft spot for you until now. But as Nirei’s eye glittered with joy as he scribbled new notes onto Suo’s page in his notebook, and Sakura’s pupils shrunk with his cheeks flaunting a new shade of red, everyone knew.

Hayato Suo’s in love.

“(Name’s) a beauty, really. They may be rough around the edges at times, but I’ve never met anyone with a soul like theirs,” he babbled uncharacteristically.

He brought his teacup to his lips with closed eyes, missing the baffled expressions on everyone’s faces. But the moment he opened them, he couldn’t help but quirk a brow. “What’s with the shocked faces?”

Umemiya coughed into his hand graciously. “We’re just a little surprised, that’s all,” he began, too immersed in the conversation to notice you entering Kotoha’s cafe. “It’s not often you ramble like this.”

“I didn’t know Suo could be so open about his feelings,” Nirei exclaimed with a smile. “You must reallyyyy like (Name), huh?” he questioned, holding his pen in one hand and notebook in another as if this were an interview.

Suo’s head tilted. “Of course I do, that’s why I’m dating them.”

“You’ve been rambling on and on about (Name) for almost 10 minutes, it’s gross,” Sakura grumbled with flushed cheeks.

“But we wanna hear more! Keep going,” Nirei added.

Everyone looked at Suo attentively, including you. Somehow, the group failed to hear the bell chime when you entered the cafe. You’re clueless as to what’s going on, but it didn’t take a genius to realize it had something to do with you considering the amount of times your name was thrown around.

“My, if you insist,” Suo chuckled. “But I fear I’ve already said it all, unless I forgot to mention how cute it is when their cheeks puff up when they’re annoyed?”

Sakura held his head in his hands in fear that it’d melt off with how hot his face felt. “No, you didn’t. But we get it! You love (Name)!” he shouted.

“They’re impossible not to love,” Suo commented with his usual calm smile.

“That’s just Sakura’s romance sensor going haywire,” Kiryu teased. “Don’t mind him.”

The split-haired boy sulked in his seat, trying to dismiss the heat he felt on his face. “You’re all so…”

His voice trailed off, catching a glimpse of your frame standing behind Suo.

“Su-“

“Trust me, if you were in my shoes you’d be doing the same thing. (Name’s) one of a kind, not to mention beautiful. I can’t imagine a life without them, honestly.” The brunette went on, unbeknownst of your looming presence behind him. “Anyone can fall in love if their heart is stolen.”

“Someone like Suo being so head over heels in love… it must feel like a fairytale for (Name),” Umemiya chimed.

“Oh trust me, it does.”

Everyone’s heads turned to face you, except Sakura, who had noticed you seconds prior.

“(Name)?!”

“I didn’t know I could be such a fun subject of conversation, Hayato.” you teased, hands resting on your boyfriend’s shoulders as you leaned down to his ear.

He gulped, hiding his flustered heart through his relaxed exterior.

“We were just talking about you!” Nirei said happily. “Is it true? That Suo never lets you hold doors open, and holds them open for you? Or that he gave you his umbrella when it was pouring rain because he’d rather get soaked than risk you getting sick?” Oh! What about-“

The boy in question sat in silence, allowing Nirei to ask his heart away to confirm that this wasn’t one of his absurd lies.

You nodded at the blonde. “Yes, yes, yes, and yes. Except he technically kept the umbrella- he just held it over me so my hands wouldn’t get cold,” you corrected, recalling the awful weather of that day.

“What a romantic~” Tsubaki swooned.

“I try my best,” Suo smiled shyly.

“Suo never talks about his life! This is the most he’s ever told us, (Name)! Does he talk to you about his personal life?” Nirei inquired politely, trying not to make you feel pressured into answering.

You thought for a moment. For one, you felt honored that Suo didn’t wanna keep your relationship a secret like the rest of his life. But the blonde’s question made you realize something yourself- you really didn’t know much about your boyfriend’s personal life.

“Well… what can I say? He’s a mystery to everyone, including me.” you replied unsurely, glancing at Suo from the corner of your eye.

“Interesting…”

Nirei wrote something down in his notebook, and you didn’t bother looking. Instead, you held eye contact with Suo. He didn’t have to speak for you to know what he was thinking.

He wasn’t hiding anything from you. He just didn’t like talking about his past, and you understood.

“My love, you know more about me than anyone else in this room,” he stood after finishing the contents of his teacup. “After all, you were the one who told me to take baby steps, correct?”

You vaguely recalled those words. It was weeks ago, but he felt guilty for not telling you or anyone else about his history. In response, you told him to take as long as he needed, and baby steps were always the first steps.

“I did,” you affirmed. Your voice was soft, but it didn’t hide your intentions of making his heart pound a little harder. “But I didn’t think I'd catch you gushing over me like you’ve lost your composure~”

Suo almost broke, and you laughed.

“Woah, is Suo blushing?”

“Who could blame the guy? It’s the most open he’s been with us,” Hiragi commented with truth.

Kotoha giggled from behind the counter. “Not to mention how close (Name) is to him right now, it might be too much for the poor boy to handle.”

The red in Suo’s cheeks slowly faded, and he let out a small sigh. “I’ll see you all later, we’re gonna get going now,” he waved.

The two of you walked out hand in hand, and everyone else was left either baffled, confused, or unphased. Unless it was Sakura, who was somehow all three.

Little did you know, Nirei left a small comment on the corner of Suo’s page in his notebook.

‘Quite the loverboy.’

© enassbraid 2024. i do not permit plagiarism, translations, or reposts of my work on any platform.

[becca4leafclover]

ok sorry I WILL be overanalyzing this Secret Society because ITS IMPLICATIONS ARE DRIVING ME INSAAANEEE

ok so like. this is also going to be very heavily based in fanon so take it with a grain (ha) of salt this is me jumping back into the deep end of my Wattpad book Hermitcraft Nonsense type rambling

so my gut reaction is that the Secret Society is a stand-in for the Watchers right. Grian's avoided calling anything directly related to the Watchers since Evo ended (VERY strongly calling it the "Secretkeeper Statue" with the [inverted] Watcher symbol, while he's made mention of Evo (especially in Past Life now) (except for when he stole the obsidian and called it the Watcher symbol GRIAN WHEN I CATCH YOU-) it's "Secret Society" now. But like if you know you KNOW.

Grian was hard-coded to be one of the Secret Society members for fairness that he knew the mechanic was coming (which is good! but also meta and I'm ignoring meta) BECAUSE WHAT IS GRIAN ALSO? ALREADY A WATCHER! HE'S THE WATCHER THAT PLAYS THE GAMES

and who exactly is being inducted into this Secret Society (the Watchers?)

Ethoslab. And GeminiTay.

Etho, the ancient enigma, who was the master of these ancient worlds when they were brand new. Neither man nor myth, both genius but unknowable and unknowing. Etho knows so much of these ancient worlds, but not at all of the cosmic forces who he's now talking to. He doesn't seem to know anything of the Watchers- maybe just the name in passing, a story his friends told of an old server. He has so much knowledge and yet no idea the lion's den he's entered into.

Gem, the rogue force. Canonically a shapeshifting world hopper who KNOWS what she's getting into. She ENTHUSIASTICALLY joined the death games, ready to play all parts of it! And specifically she joined in Secret Life; where the Watchers first made their major reappearance. But she didn't just play the game- no, she made them her own. Scar may have won there, there's no doubting that Gem was an equal and opposite force to rival him. Where he had no allies, she was in the midst of gathering an army. She used her own eye to complete the End portal- showing the power she holds within her, rivaling the Watchers who control the portal. Scar gained Pearl because Gem lost her. In Wild Life too, she befriended the snail that could instantly end her life, and danced around the Wildcards while others cowered in fear. She's laughed in the face of the Watchers. It's no wonder they've set their eyes on her.

Both would make FANTASTIC Watchers. Much more so than Martyn and Jimmy, who were candidates and acolytes of the opposing party. Jimmy is too niaeve, he's better a puppet than the puppeteer. And Martyn is too headstrong, he won't bend the way the Watchers wanted him to.

And Grian- the master of the games, the Watcher of the group. He himself is an unpredictable force of the cosmic order he is claimed by. He tricks and disobeys the Watchers, but entertains and organizes the Life Series for them. He scoffs and rolls his eyes and ignores any direct question relating him to them, yet grins giddily at the power that he holds within the games.

It's just- SUCH an interesting dynamic. Grian softened the blow, putting being recruited by the Watchers as "joining a Secret Society." It's enough that if you know, you know- a quirked eyebrow from Gem to Grian, his eyes flashing purple in a nod with a smile to confirm it. Gem is much less resistant to joining after seeing how Grian gets away with things. Meanwhile it's a complete introduction to Etho, who thought he knew everything there was about these ancient times and is about to learn there's far more out there than he thought.

[berryunho]

THE ANSWER: XXVIII

Kim Hongjoong doesn’t like the word ‘cult.’ He prefers ‘sect.’ pairing: ateez x fem reader genre: cult au, thriller, angst check warnings on AO3

← previous || next → || masterlist chapter word count: 14,305 chapter warnings: alcohol consumption

Your month drags on. Despite the heightened activity around the farm, nothing much changes in your day-to-day schedule. You wake up at the same time, listen to Hongjoong ramble for the same amount of time, eat the same meals with the same people, and eventually sleep at the same time. Even book club is monotonous, barely even happening— but that might have more to do with the fact that Seonghwa (who conducts most of your lessons) seems even less enthused about having to spend an hour talking to you than you are. 

Which is strange— ish. Not that you expected much different from him, but you had thought that… or, well, at least, you weren’t feeling such a burning hatred for him anymore, so, maybe… 

But that’s silly. Of course Seonghwa still doesn’t give a rat's ass about you, why would he? All you’ve ever done is be a pain in his side. Even when he’s… comforted you in the past… its been to relieve his own discomfort or guilty conscious, not to actually help you. Probably.

You truly have no idea. Seonghwa is an enigma. 

In a way, though, you’re glad that he’s at least mostly off your case. Maybe due to your slight mental breakdown after seeing the… thing… Seonghwa seems to be less eager to poke fun at you. Not nice by any standards, but he’s certainly less devious around you. 

Which also means that he hasn’t been prying into your personal life. Thankfully. With the secret of your escape looming over your every thought, it would be just like you to accidentally slip-up in front of Seonghwa and blow the whole thing. 

Instead, he keeps things very formal. He doesn’t put his hands on you, he doesn’t stare at your face with that scrunched-up look, he doesn’t ask questions about you or your day or San or anything else. He talks to you about The Answer and lets you leave after. 

Though the arrangement is a bit startling at first, you get used to it quickly. Hongjoong appears less and less at these meetings, not even making an appearance in the last two weeks of the month. You have no idea what he could possibly be so busy doing, but you’re not complaining. 

Over the course of the month, there were several more rituals, similar to the tune of the one that you had participated in. Luckily, you were not called to participate in any of them, and no more— and your hesitant to even give whatever happened a name, but— Guardians appear to confuse and scare the everliving fuck out of you. 

More and more, you find yourself absentmindedly reaching to touch the pins on the collar of your shirt, fiddling with them whenever your hands are free. You want to think that it has nothing to do with Hongjoong’s bullshit about the Sign protecting you… and it doesn’t! Not at all! That would be crazy! It’s just a habit. Like spinning a ring or twisting a necklace. 

… You’ll go with that, anyways. 

Occasionally, you still have nightmares about your encounter. What a horrible night that all was. Obviously, there still is nothing in you that can believe that Guardians are real. That would be silly. And insane. But it’s only natural that you’re still upset about the whole situation. Whatever had happened, it had scared the shit out of you. It affected you— it makes sense that your subconscious would be fixated on such a traumatic memory. 

Right…? Or maybe you’re still actively thinking about that night and what the fuck had happened. Could it have been what Hongjoong said? Could he be right? Or were you blitzed out on some mysterious drug and everyone else was just lying about what they saw? Could Hongjoong manage that?

He probably could. It couldn’t be that hard for him to convince the entire cult into gaslighting you into believing that they had all seen the thing, too. But San… He wouldn’t lie to you about it, right? You find that very hard to believe. 

Thinking on it, San had, of course, never outright said that he had seen the same thing as you— you had never spoken in detail with him about it… But he was disturbed enough to set your escape into motion, which must count for something. Maybe he had seen a Guardian and was terrified enough to run. 

These sorts of thoughts dominate your month. 

You had volunteered to help out with the harvest, almost pleading with San for something to do. You were sure that Wooyoung would take your help back in the kitchens, but Hongjoong denied you any opportunity that seemed to come your way. He wanted you with San, where he could see you. 

Which is stupid, in your opinion. Hongjoong has the Followers, all of whom are incredibly devoted to him; any of them would give you up in a heartbeat if they saw you trying anything that you shouldn’t. He could assign literally anyone to watch you while you did a task, and it would achieve the same thing as having San at your side. But no. You were forced to rot in your apartment, glancing over San’s shoulder to his laptop on occasion, hoping to see something that could brighten your mood (or give you more information). 

Most of the time, you watch out your window, hoping to snag another glance at Mingi. There are a few times when you can see him in the field, but the Followers make quick work of the harvest nearest the compound, and move farther and farther away as the month rolls onward. Sometimes, you swear you can see his hair in the distance, reflecting the sun so brightly. It gets harder and harder to remember why you fought. Why you were holding a grudge. Could you really blame him for having your best interests at heart?

Sure, he had been a little possessive and freaky, but, like, he was kind of telling the truth. And he was just trying to make sure that San wasn’t hurting you.

You’re probably just making excuses for him, now, as you miss his company. Here you were, a cult member, locked away in an apartment, all for him— and you don’t even have him. You can’t even speak with him freely. The irony isn’t lost on you. 

Anyways, it doesn’t come as much of a shock when Hongjoong announces that the harvest is complete. Though the month might have been one of the longest of your life, watching the field workers get farther and farther away everyday at least gave you a sense of time passing. When even their tractors were tiny specks that you could hardly see without squinting, it was clear that the work was almost finished. 

The announcement is met with much fanfare, though you’re not sure why. From what you make of it, Halloween is always the date on which the harvest celebration occurs. It shouldn’t be much of a surprise that the harvest is over, especially with the date looming so soon, but the Followers all seem overjoyed. Maybe they’re all just ready to relax after a long, toiling month. 

That said, the day itself comes much faster than you anticipated. Hongjoong made the announcement of the end of the Harvest on the 25th of the month, leaving six days between the sermon for celebration and the actual ceremony itself. 

Which left you with six days to finish your mental preparations for your escape. 

San had refined your plan over the month, including making a timeline of the night and the places you should find yourself. He took over the entire plan, which you really couldn’t be more thankful for. His knowledge of the farm and the workings of the cult provided a level of security that you would have never been able to achieve on your own. 

In essence, the plan remained the same. When the ceremonial party began at 6pm, you would have nothing to worry about… besides socializing for the next nine hours. Just follow the vibes, and you would be okay. San was sure that you would have free reign during the party, that you’d be allowed to be away from a higher-ups side once the alcohol was flowing. At three, you would meet with San near the front doors, trying to not be seen, and make your way into the woods beyond the compound, where San will have stashed your car in the days leading up to the ceremony (it was as he was telling you this that he admitted to having the keys to your car in his office this entire time). 

Despite the simplicity of the plan, you figured that it would probably work. As long as you didn’t raise any suspicions in the coming days, and as long as everything went smoothly on Halloween, there was no reason to dwell on the possibility of it failing. 

Another failed escape attempt was unlikely to be something that you would survive, you knew this. Even with Hongjoong’s delusional belief that you are someone important to him and his religion, you weren’t sure he could tolerate this level of disobedience— at the very least, it would be disastrous if you failed. At worst, you would be leading San and yourself to early graves. 

Maybe Hongjoong’s twisted dependence on you would mean that he couldn’t kill you… But you weren’t going to count on it. He had threatened your life in the past, and you were quite certain that he meant it. He would be able to reason out a way that killing you made sense, if you pissed him off enough.

So. You simply had to make sure that you did not fail. Because you didn’t want to find out what Hongjoong would do with you if you did. 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。. 

Much like the rest of the month, the few days leading up to Halloween also fly by before you can appreciate the gravity of your situation. 

Your stomach churns all morning. You chalk it up to nerves, the most obvious explanation for an upset stomach, but part of you wonders if there wasn’t something wrong with your dinner last night. 

Hongjoong announces the party to be held that evening during the morning service, like San had said that he would. You wring your hands together at San’s side, avoiding Hongjoong’s eyes. There’s a small part of you that is so sure that he would be able to figure you out entirely if he got a glimpse into your eyes. You just try to focus on the activity at hand, listening to Hongjoong with an impassive look on your face. 

You must do an alright job, as Hongjoong allows you to leave the chapel with San at the conclusion of the service. You’re even able to eat breakfast in peace, which actually does surprise you. Though Hongjoong had been exceedingly busy over the month, he still typically made time to freak you out most days. 

But San and you are able to sneak away after breakfast, back to your apartment, without a word from anyone. 

As soon as San shuts and locks the door behind him, he asks, “Are you still feeling alright? Up to this?” 

You blink across the room at him, hardly needing a moment to assure him that you very much still are ready to make your escape. You ask if he’s feeling the same way, to which he agrees. 

“Just a little nervous, I guess,” he explains, shrugging. “That’s normal, right?” 

“Of course it is.” You’re sure that San is no stranger to Hongjoong’s wrath; you don’t need to wonder why he’s nervous. Once again, you’re struck by emotion as you realize what San is doing for you, what he’s risking and what he’s giving up. 

He smiles. “What should we do, after we’re out of here?” 

You sit down on the couch, thinking through your answer, “I think we should just show up on one of my friend’s doorsteps and freak the shit out of them.” 

San laughs, rolling his eyes. “I meant more long-term, but we can do that, too.” 

Oh… Long-term. You still hadn’t broached the subject about… well, blowing the whistle on this place again, ever since San flipped out when you suggested it. You certainly still planned on doing exactly that, and you really don’t think that you need San’s approval to do so, either. Like, if you escape and just let this be, aren’t you basically an accomplice to all of the crime? 

The last thing you plan to do with your life is go to prison for Hongjoong, so you’re very much resolved in what you have to do… whether San agrees with you or not. 

“Well,” you start, “when’s the last time you saw your parents? Where did you live before you came here?” 

San sighs dramatically, making his way to sit next to you. “Sheesh, don’t remind me. They’re gonna kill me.” 

“They’ll be happy to see you, I’m sure.” You think of your own parents, who will probably also be a little upset… but hopefully mostly pleased that you’re still alive. 

San agrees with you easily enough about his parents, before adding, “Is this a bad time to mention that the Followers have been paying your rent since you went missing?” He asks, “So everything should still be there.” 

You gape at him. “Are you serious? How?” 

You know for a fact that your rent could only be paid through a pain in the ass portal with a very specific and strange ID and password. 

He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “You had the info saved in your phone… so…” 

Puzzled. You are puzzled. Why would they go to such lengths to just keep your shit in your apartment? You had long since assumed that your landlord had probably broken down the door and left your stuff on the curb. 

Well, you remind yourself, it actually hasn’t been that long. Though it feels like you’ve been on this farm for the better part of your life, it has really only been… what, two and a half months? Maybe your landlord would give you some leeway, but… no need to worry about it, you guess. 

But why would they even do that? It’s not like your rent was cheap. What would they gain from keeping your apartment intact? The illusion of life? 

That’s probably it, you realize. Just a front to make it look like you, in fact, weren’t a missing person. Part of you wants to freak out at San, realizing that he must be the person that orchestrated all of this, but you’re too far past that. If you start being mad at him for doing his job, you’re going to have to be mad about a lot of things. Things that you can look past for the fact of what he’s helping you do tonight. 

“Speaking of my phone, can I get that back?” 

San, relieved that you don’t seem mad, smiles. “I’ll grab it tonight.” 

“Can’t I have it now?” 

He hesitates at that, inclining his head in question, “any particular reason?” 

You shouldn’t need to give him a reason, so you shake your head. 

“It’s probably best to keep it where it is, in case someone goes looking for it.” 

… Ominous. Who would be looking for your phone? 

But he’s probably right. And it’s not like there would be much to do on it, anyways. You’re not going to call the cops now, not when your escape is looming closer and closer with each minute that passes. You can’t jeopardize it now. 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。. 

You’re a little surprised that dinner carries on as normal, without any extra fanfare. Though no one had mentioned one, you had kind of expected there to be another ceremony of sorts. But, no, dinner is normal. You sit with San and Wooyoung, the rest of the table almost awkwardly empty as the three of you eat in relative silence.

How is Wooyoung going to react when he wakes up tomorrow and you’re both gone? He’s going to be pissed. But, maybe, he’ll realize that you wouldn’t leave him here. Surely, after what he told you, he knows that you wouldn’t do that. You couldn’t have it in your heart to let him rot here, knowing what Hongjoong did to bend him to his will… or, at least, having an inkling of an idea. 

Before you know it, Hongjoong is standing at the head of the room, commanding the attention of the cafeteria. The room falls into a hush, no one speaks as Hongjoong starts his speech. 

“Everyone,” he addresses the room, “Loyal Followers of the Answer, it is with great joy that I officially conclude our harvest season.”

The room bursts into a polite applause, smiles shared around the tables as the Followers celebrate their leader’s message. 

“Despite a rocky start, we were very fortunate to remain safe for the duration of the month.” Hongjoong, for the first time that day, finds your eyes. “I put my thanks in the faith of our Followers, those who kept our protections strong all month long. Though it may seem that there was no danger at all, this is only thanks to their courage.” 

San reaches across the table to squeeze your hand, giving you a small smile. 

“As always, we will celebrate our safety and our bountiful harvest— which Jongho assures me will last us through the winter and beyond— tonight. Everyone of age shall participate; I do not expect anyone to hold back on anyone’s account, especially not my own. This success is as much yours as it is mine.

“Please, imbibe freely, socialize freely, celebrate your victory over evil. We start now, and we will not stop until dawn.” Hongjoong grabs his glass from the table behind him, saluting the room with it before downing the amber liquid. 

Again, the room applauds, though more raucously. Wooyoung excuses himself from your table, headed back to the kitchens. Soon after, Followers emerge with trays and trays of various specialty glassware, each filled with their respective (you assume) alcohols. Not long after, Wooyoung exits the kitchen with a rolling cart filled with, perhaps, more bottles of alcohol than you have ever seen in one place at one time (which was saying a lot, considering the bars you had frequented with Mingi in college). 

Without anyone’s encouragement, Followers begin congregating at the front of the room, helping themselves to the multitude of drinks available. You’re even surprised to see that someone brought out a case of Coke, presumably for mixing. When was the last time you saw coke? They must’ve made a run into town recently, you realize, though it couldn’t have had the same importance as when San went. 

You shrug it off. Not like it matters much, anyhow. San stands, offering his hand to you. You take it, graciously, prepared to get this night started. 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。. 

There is an attempt to pace yourself, considering that you’re going to need to be at least a little coherent later tonight, but… well… it’s been a long time. And you are well aware of the fact that you have, like, basically 10 hours. That’s enough time to get drunk and then sober, if you play your cards right. 

So play them, you do. San sticks to your side like glue for the first couple hours, watching you carefully as you put away more than your fair share of drinks. He drinks, as well, but nowhere near at the speed or quantity you do. You’re vaguely aware that you probably should slow down, but why would you, when you’re surrounded by… like, tons of dudes that would protect you, and you include Hongjoong in that count. 

By nine, you are positively drunk, blissfully unaware of the worries from the morning. What is there to worry about? You’re having the time of your life, do you even want to leave? Why would you leave? The thought makes you laugh, not surprisingly. 

You flit around the cafeteria, having lost San a while ago. Or maybe it was only a few minutes ago… It doesn’t matter. You talk to a lot of people, introducing yourself and smiling when they tell you they know who you are. It almost makes you feel a little guilty, but it mostly makes you happy. So many lovely people know your name and your face and they know that Hongjoong thinks you're so important. How amazing! Tomorrow, you probably wouldn’t be able to repeat a single one of their names, but that doesn’t matter. 

The time flies as you keep talking to new people, your mind completely distracted from the plans you have for later. You do slow down your drinking, eventually, though that’s more so due to the fact that you’re too far away from the bar table to bother going back to it than anything else. 

More than a few times, you find yourself staring at Mingi, and, more often than not, he’s staring at you, as well. Maybe he’s worried about you…? The thought makes you blush. Mingi… Oh, Mingi. He looks so handsome tonight, too. His hair is still red, still bright, and his outfit is beautifully fitted to his bulky body. Phew. You almost need to fan yourself. 

Eventually, sometime, you’re not sure what time, you end up talking with Yunho. He is clearly not even a little bit drunk, you might even say he was stone-cold sober if not for the glass in his hands. Though you thought that he hated your guts, he still seemed a little amused by your presence, a small smile on his face as he has to catch your forearm a couple times. The drunk part of you wonders if you could get away with feeling his biceps, he’s just so tall and so handsome, but even you know it would probably be wrong to feel him up. 

You couldn’t repeat a word of your conversation to anyone, not even seconds after it happened; not that you think it particularly matters. After Yunho, you find Wooyoung and Yeosang, and you can distinctly remember thanking Wooyoung for the incredible selection, but… yeah, that’s about it. 

While you’re about to go talk to Jongho, who looks like he could use some company, a hand wraps around your elbow, tugging you backwards. Not one to argue, you spin around, ready to follow whoever it is. Seonghwa stares down at you, an incredulous expression on his face. 

“Hi, Hwa,” you smile up at him, grabbing his free hand with yours. 

His expression morphs from confusion to disgust. “Do not call me that. How much have you had to drink?” 

You shrug, swinging your conjoined hands back and forth. “Enough to have a good time. What about you?” 

“Certainly less than that,” he tugs you back toward the cafeteria tables that had, apparently, been mostly moved out of the way at one point. “Trust me, you don’t want to bother Jongho tonight.” 

You hadn’t planned on bothering him, just keeping him company, but you figured that Seonghwa wouldn’t see it the same way. 

“What time is it?” You ask him, only remembering that you’re wearing a watch after the words leave your mouth. 

“10:44. Got somewhere to be?” 

“Nope,” you pop the p sound, following his lead as he ushers for you to sit down at the table. 

Time continues to fly by, though Seonghwa isn’t as good of a conversation partner as the other people you’ve been spending your time with. He also doesn’t let you drink anymore, instead insisting that you drink water, refilling your glass every time you empty it. Lame. 

As the minutes pass, though, you can feel yourself coming back to reality. You definitely aren’t sober, very far from sober, but the lights stop being bright and you stop being amused by everything that Seonghwa says and does pretty quickly. You also excuse yourself to the restroom more than a few times, though you dutifully return to the same table each time. 

The night progresses, and you find yourself making eye contact with Mingi more and more. Like, seriously, basically everytime that you happen to look at him, he’s already looking at you. Besides the one time you look over and see him engaged in conversation with Hongjoong, you appear to have his rapt attention. 

You try to look around the room for San, but there are so many Followers and it’s kind of dark and you’re still not in your right mind, so you give up pretty quickly. You have no idea what it is that he could be doing, besides preparing for your escape, so you just let it be. Better to not ask after him and then have the others asking the same questions. 

Though he had stopped you from drinking, Seonghwa had not stopped himself. He paces himself much better than you had, but he keeps drinking as the night wears on, eventually starting to open up a bit more with you. He also lets you get another drink, which you happily allow yourself, as you start to feel much too aware of your situation once more. 

“You know,” Seonghwa mutters, leaning closer to you, “this is, essentially, Hongjoong’s birthday party.”

You pull away from him, confusion evident on your face. “It’s his birthday?” 

“In a week.” He sips his drink, grimacing at the taste. “But he doesn’t make a big deal of it on the actual day, so here we are.” 

You’re actually rather surprised to hear this, and from Seonghwa no less. It’s strange that Hongjoong doesn’t want his birthday to be a huge thing considering his, you know, enormous ego and narcissism issue. Maybe he doesn’t like everyone knowing how old he is. Kind of takes away the appeal, knowing that he’s… how old is he? He can’t be much older than you, just given what you know about him and Seonghwa (who you know to be the same age). You’d ask Seonghwa, but it kind of seems like he wants you to ask, so you’re not going to. 

Instead, you sip your own drink, trying to look like you’re thoughtfully processing and tucking this information away for later. Why would you ever need to remember Hongjoong’s birthday, especially after tonight? Your stomach rolls over as you have this thought, the reminder of your plan being truly nauseating. 

“When's your birthday?” You ask instead, propping your elbow onto the table. 

Seonghwa looks momentarily taken aback, but responds easily enough, “April third.” 

“Far away, then,” you frown. Another realization hits you. “You’re older than Hongjoong.” 

He shrugs, “Believe it or not.” 

For whatever reason, this is, in fact, slightly disconcerting. 

But you ignore that feeling, opting to look around the crowded room. Hongjoong himself is mingling with Yeosang and Wooyoung, both of whom look incredibly pleased to have their leader's attention. Wooyoung is not shy with his hands, clutching the Hongjoong’s arm close to his chest as they speak. Vaguely, you wonder if he’s feeling okay. You’re still not sure how he can be so loyal to someone that apparently had him… what? Tortured? Who even knows. Stockholm syndrome is a real thing, you guess. For once, Hongjoong doesn't sense your gaze, staying completely unaware until your eyes shift away. 

Immediately, perhaps unsurprisingly, at this point, you make eye contact with Mingi. You hold it this time, tilting your head in question as if asking him if he needs something. He’s certainly acting like it, with all this staring, but he looks away from you, resuming his conversation with a Follower you haven't met before. Like everyone else, he still sports a drink in his hand, dutifully sipping it every lull. 

“Princess, can I ask you a question?” Seonghwa speaks across from you, calling your attention back to him. You incline your head in the affirmative, and he asks, “Why did it take you so long to come after him?” 

The question takes you off guard, probably for the fact that you wonder it yourself. You take another drink, looking down at the wood grain on the table. 

“Too personal? I figured.” Seonghwa takes your silence as an unwillingness to respond.

“No,” you're quick to deny him, “it's not that. I just don't know the answer.” 

As horrible as it sounds, the real answer to the question is simply… you were busy. Life happened. You didn’t have any reason to suspect that he disappeared due to malicious circumstances. Finishing university was your top priority— plenty of your friendships fell to the wayside as you wrapped up your degree. And, by the time you graduated, it didn’t seem pertinent. You always figured that, if you reached out, he would answer. Hell, his mom told you where he was, if she knew about this place, at least to some extent, you couldn’t blame yourself for not knowing what it would end up being. 

If you had known the truth, you think, you would’ve come sooner. Of course you would have. There is no universe where you let Mingi go through this terror alone… though that’s essentially what’s happened since your argument and the rift in your relationship. 

Whatever the case, it seems silly to worry about now. You're here. There were a few months where Mingi was here alone, and the idea of those few months horrifies you. Knowing that Mingi went through a Choosing ceremony without any kind of internal support system makes you feel sick… but, you have to admit, he did pretty alright. Sure, he's traumatized and changed and brainwashed, but at least he has friends and a purpose and, well, he seems happy… ish. There's nothing you could've done if you had been here earlier, so it's no use dreading on it. You still would've been kept apart, and there still would've been the same circumstances. 

You take a look at your watch, sighing as it informs you that the time is 11:52 p.m., not nearly as late as you were hoping that it would be. 

Seonghwa huffs at your non-answer, tucking his hair away from his face to stare at you harder. “Sometimes I feel like I can hear your thoughts just from watching your expression change. Mingi wasn’t better off before you got here, if that is what you were thinking.” 

It wasn’t, but, like, that’s kind of close. 

You shake your head, sliding your drink across the table between your hands. “It’s not that I think he was better off… Just that he did alright for himself in the meantime.” 

His face twists, though you’re not sure what emotion he’s trying to convey. “Do you even remember what happened when you tried to leave?” 

Your eyes meet his. 

“He had you back for, what, two days, and then completely broke down.” Seonghwa glances back over at Mingi. “I don’t think he’s been the same since you did that.” 

“You can’t guilt trip me into forgetting my need for self-preservation,” you say, hoping your voice doesn’t betray any sense of, well, guilt. 

He rolls his eyes, looking back at you. “In case you haven’t noticed, Princess, you are very much still alive.” He mutters something else under his breath as he picks up his drink, taking quite a few consecutive swallows. 

You mirror his actions. Hopefully, you can keep it that way.

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。. 

In a stroke of luck, Seonghwa let you keep drinking until you found yourself teetering between tipsy and drunk, again. He kept drinking, but he didn’t really keep entertaining you, instead wandering off to do his own socializing. You do try to keep yourself under control, though considering that it’s almost time. 

You take a look at your watch, surprised to see that it’s already 2:15. Blinking through the haze of your tipsiness, it sure seems like 2:15 is an okay time to get a move on, right? Like, surely no one will notice if you slip out now instead of in, like, twenty minutes or whenever you and San had agreed he would grab you. 

Plus, if anyone did notice, you could just say that you needed some air. It wouldn’t be hard to believe, looking at the state of you. You would quite enjoy a nice breath of fresh air. You could always come back inside if it felt like it was too early, or if you got a bad feeling. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to sneak off for just a moment. 

In a brief look around the room, you don’t find anyone paying any particular attention to yourself. In fact, you can see Hongjoong and Seonghwa engrossed in conversation, about as far away as could be. Seonghwa’s hand rests on Hongjoong’s shoulder, a demure smile on his face as he listens to Hongjoong speak. Most of the other Followers in the room all seem significantly more drunk than yourself, with hardly a person meeting your eyes for any longer than a second. 

No one will notice, you’re positive. 

As you begin your attempt to shuffle your way through the crowd toward the hall, a hand grasps your elbow, stopping you in place, for the second time that night. 

Despite the looks that he had been giving you all night, you’re still a bit surprised to see Mingi looking down at you when you spin around to see who the hand belongs to. Your plans to go get a breath of fresh air fall out the window at the sight of him. Why would you need fresh air when Mingi is standing in front of you? He has just about the same effect on you. 

At first, he doesn’t seem to have anything to say, but, if you know anything about Mingi, it’s that he yaps when he’s drunk. And he clearly is, judging from the rosy tinge of his face and the awkward smile he wears as he looks at you, a smile that sends you straight back to college. It’s as if he’s completely forgotten everything that’s happened in the past couple months, forgotten the arguments and the anger and the time that has passed. 

“Hey,” he greets you, having to raise his voice over the din of the party. 

“Hey,” you greet him in turn, politely waiting for him to continue. 

“Can I—” he stops, opting to lean his head closer to yours so that he can talk into your ear. His hand stays on your elbow, locking you in place (not that you would’ve moved away from him, anyways, being tipsy and all). “Can we talk in private?” He asks, his voice deep in a way that you had almost forgotten. 

Nodding, you allow him to retract himself and lead you away, toward the hall that you had originally been aiming for. When the door shuts behind the two of you, the party sounds fade; the two of you isolated from the rest of the world. 

Well, the two of you and a few other Followers that linger in the hall, but close enough. Mingi doesn’t seem bothered by their presence, and you really aren’t either. You’re sure that you haven’t had a truly private conversation with Mingi since before he went missing, given that he apparently seeks Hongjoong’s advice for everything. Anyways, the presence of a few stragglers doesn’t worry you. 

Mingi drops your arm, awkwardly smoothing his dress shirt. “You look nice. Pretty.” 

“Thanks,” you smile, leaning your back against the wall— partly in an effort to keep your balance.  “What did you wanna talk about?” 

He shrugs, observing the hallway like he had never seen it before. “Just wanted to talk. We haven’t talked in a looooooonnngggggggggg time.” 

Part of you wants to ask him who’s fault that is, but that would be cruel, so you don’t. “It has been a while now.” You agree instead, glancing at your watch. 2:22… which is basically 2:25, which is basically 2:30… already. Nerves wash over you again as you clench your hands in front of you. 

“If I’m being honest— and I always want to be honest with you, you know— Hongjoong said that I should talk to you because he thought it would be good for you to hear my thoughts about the situation and also because he said that he thought that you seemed bummed out that we haven’t been talking and that made me sad so I’m taking his advice and talking to you.” Mingi says after taking one deep breath, not stopping for a moment. “Also Yunho said that you still seemed kind of mad and I can’t take the thought of you being mad at me anymore so basically what I wanted to say was that I’m sorry.” 

Blinking, a pout forms on your face at his explanation. He had been worrying about you and your relationship. You could’ve reached out to him at any point in the last month, but hadn’t out of fear that he was still upset with you. And here he was, apologizing. 

“Mingi,” you wring your hands harder together, “it really isn’t important anymore. I stopped being angry a long time ago.” 

He shakes his head, closing his eyes. “It is important, (Y/n), I don’t want this to go unsaid. I’m sorry for confronting you and acting like a douchebag, I’m sorry for scaring you, I’m sorry for questioning you about San, which was absolutely none of my business, I’m sorry for yelling and fighting him and ignoring you for weeks and sending San dirty looks whenever I saw him.” He pauses. “You probably didn’t know about that last one, but, still, I’m sorry.” 

Your frown only grows deeper with each apology, your eyes starting to sting. You don’t want to cry, not when you’re sure that this night will steal plenty of tears already, but Mingi is making it hard. If you had known that he was beating himself up equally as hard as you had been, you would’ve apologized a long, long time ago. If you had known… isn’t that just the statement of your life? 

“When you were attacked at the start of the month, I was terrified.” He swallows. “I wanted to be at your side, but Hongjoong wouldn’t allow it, and I was sure that you would be pissed if you woke up and I was there, so I left. But that solitude left me a lot of time to think, to think about who you are and what you mean to me.

“You might not think of me as your best friend anymore, but I value our friendship more than anything else in my life, (Y/n). More than Hongjoong, more than The Answer, more than all of this; you are what I thank God for everyday. If something happened to you, I don’t think I would survive it.” Mingi swallows again, harder, tearing up himself. “I’m so glad that you’re here. I know you still are on the fence about Hongjoong, but I need you to trust me when I say that he loves us and he lives to make us better people.” 

Finally, you allow a few stray tears to spill onto your cheeks. Mingi’s confession is touching, truly, making your stomach do all sorts of gymnastics, but Hongjoong. How does he weasel his way into absolutely everything? Again, you’re struck by the thought that Mingi will be plagued by Hongjoong for the rest of his life. This… grip he has on Mingi won’t disappear overnight. 

Thankful for the wall behind you, considering your dizziness, you lift a hand to wipe at your cheeks before responding. “Mingi, no matter what happens or how much we fight or if I’m here or not, you’ll always be my best friend.” You smile weakly, hoping that he doesn’t read too deeply into your words. “Nothing can come between us for long.” 

Mingi wipes at his own tears, sniffling. “Can I hug you?” 

Before you can fully nod your head yes, Mingi is pulling you away from the wall and into his arms, crushing you to his chest. You’re quick to reciprocate, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist, savoring the feeling. You hadn’t been able to hug him in ages, but his arms feel just like you remember them— if not a little bit more muscled. Inhaling deeply, you rub your face against his shirt, probably ruining the crisp-ness that he had been trying to preserve. His tears wet your scalp, but you don’t mind as you only squeeze him tighter. 

The moment could not be more perfect; reconciling with Mingi fills your heart with such a certainty that you’re doing the right thing. Knowing that he isn’t upset with you, isn’t harboring any ill-will any longer reassures you that it will all be okay. He knows that you wouldn’t just leave him behind— he’ll know that you’re coming back for him (if he ever even finds out that you’ve left). 

That is, of course, ignoring the bit of his speech where he encouraged you to stay and adapt to Hongjoong, but, like, whatever. It’ll be irrelevant in a few hours, now. He’ll be thankful, eventually. 

But no moment can be perfect and last forever. 

A throat clearing from behind Mingi calls your attention back to the world. The two of you separate, though Mingi puts a hand on your cheek as you pull away, wiping away your tears with a tight smile. 

San looks behind Mingi’s shoulder, his face hard as he watches the two of you. You could almost chuckle at his jealousy, but the seriousness of the situation suddenly rises into your awareness once again. 

“I'm sorry, Mingi, you'll have to excuse us,” San says, despite the fact that Mingi hasn't acknowledged his presence. 

Mingi leans close to press a kiss to your forehead. “Thank you,” he says, quietly enough so that you're the only one who hears. 

Nodding, you untangle yourself from his arms, taking a few steps towards San before offering your hand to him. 

He takes it, offering no final remarks to Mingi as he pulls you further away from the cafeteria. Further away from Hongjoong and Seonghwa and Mingi and the rest of them. Closer to the forest and your car and freedom. 

Your heartbeat picks up in your chest again. Had you lost track of time talking with Mingi? Were you running behind? Why does it seem like San is in such a rush to get you away? It’s almost hard to keep up with his stride, your boots feeling heavier with each step that you take. 

Vaguely, you find yourself worrying over if Mingi will get in trouble for being the last one to speak to you. Surely not… How would he know what you were planning? There wouldn’t be a way for him to… unless they suspected that you had confided your plans to him. 

Which you hadn’t done, but if they were desperate enough to need a scapegoat… No. Hongjoong wouldn’t go that far. He may never even find out that you had the conversation in the first place. Mingi might mention it, but he probably wouldn’t have the opportunity to in the chaos that is sure to ensue when your absence was realized. 

They were bound to figure out what had happened easily enough; they wouldn’t have to interrogate your friends to come to the most obvious conclusion: that you and San had run away in the night, without outside help. 

Before you know it, San is opening the front door, ushering you into the night. 

As you had suspected, the cool air does feel amazing on your skin. Lacking a coat, you know that you’ll grow colder the longer that you’re outside. It’s almost November, now, the air is almost strikingly cold after the stuffiness of the cafeteria. Even the hallway had hardly felt relieving compared to this. 

Taking a few deep breaths, you allow San to continue wordlessly leading you forward. If you weren’t still rather tipsy, maybe you would question his silence. But it doesn’t bother you very much, if you’re being honest. He probably just doesn’t want to risk drawing any unnecessary attention…

He had assured you that there would be absolutely no one outside of the compound at this point in the night, though… 

But, still, he has his reasons, you’re sure. Instead of continuing to walk in front of the building, he veers dramatically to the right, walking the distance until you both turn the corner to round to the side and eventually the back.

Though you had never seen the woods at the back of the compound directly, you had known it was there. The ancient, old-growth trees loomed from behind the building, their leaves able to be seen from a far distance, even from the road. To actually be in front of them was a new sensation, a new emotion. The sight of their trunks startled you into realization.

This is real. You’re doing this. You’re running. You’re getting out of here. 

San stops at the edge of the trees, finally turning to address you in a low voice, “You still want to do this?” 

Nodding, you squeeze his hand in yours, bringing your free hand to grip your joined hands as well. 

He looks at the dirt, kicking a loose pebble at his feet. “Don’t look too hard at anything you might see in these trees, (Y/n).” 

However foreboding that is, you agree with his request, “I won’t take my eyes off of you.” 

San allows himself a small smile, squeezing your hands back. 

Whatever it is that San doesn’t want you seeing, you don’t think you ever had any hope of being able to see in the trees, anyways. It’s pitch black outside, the moon doing little to help you as you walk deeper and deeper. 

You’re almost kind of amazed that he’s able to lead you so confidently. He must not have consumed anywhere near the same quantity of alcohol as everyone else. Which actually makes quite a bit of sense, considering you hadn’t seen him very much at all following dinner. What had he been up to? Was Hongjoong not suspicious of his absence? He must’ve made something up… explained it away… 

More than a few times, you stumble over a tree root or loose brush, twigs snapping underfoot with each step that you take. San holds you steady, slowing his pace when you need it. 

After what feels like forever, but is probably more like a couple minutes, you reach a clearing. At first, you think that you spot your car right away… but then you realize that you can’t be sure. In the clearing, there’s no fewer than twenty vehicles, of all makes and models and sizes. Some look like they haven’t run in years, a thick, dusty coat over their windshields that you can even see in the dark. 

San doesn’t pause to let you take in the clearing for very long, however. He quickly pulls you along with him, between a row of cars, before you’re able to find your own. It looks just as you remember it, albeit a bit dirty. Your heart leaps as you realize what this means.

You’re at your car. Your car. It’s right here, right in front of you. You’re going to fucking get out of here. Holy shit. 

San lets go of your hand, fishing into his pocket before pulling out the keys and handing them to you. “We don’t lock the cars, but…” 

Clutching the keys in your hands, you can’t help but smile. “I can’t believe this is happening.” 

He awkwardly mirrors your smile, glancing behind you before pointing it out. You turn to look, not all that surprised to see that the clearing opens to a dirt road, leading back off into the trees. “We’ll go that way. It meets up with the main road after a couple miles.” 

Nodding, you turn back to your car, almost giddy as you approach the passenger’s side door. Gently, you pull on the handle, hoping the door doesn’t creak too loud as you do so. Thankfully, it’s no louder than normal, and you eagerly sit yourself down in the seat. San stands in the door, his hands resting on either side of the opening. “Ready, then?” He chuckles as you settle yourself into the seat, adjusting the recline to lay back. 

“Let’s go.” 

He gives you a thumbs up, pushing himself off of the car before patting at his pockets. 

His smile falls, his face paling. 

Your heart drops into your stomach, “What is it?” You ask, sitting back up. “Is something wrong?” 

San blinks, twisting to look back the way that you came. “I have to go back.” 

“What?” You almost shout, “Are you crazy? You can’t go back!” 

He shakes his head, leaning down toward you. He grips both of your shoulders tight in his hands, looking in your eyes, “It’ll be fine. I will be right back, I promise.” 

“San, no,” you gape at him, “what could possibly be so important?” 

San closes his eyes, shaking his head at your question. “It’s hard to explain, I— Just, I,” his eyes open as he squeezes you one last time before dropping your shoulders. “I’ll be back, I swear.” 

“Let me come with you,” you plead, attempting to grab one of his hands as he pulls away. “Don’t leave me here, alone, please, San.” 

Shushing you, he shakes his head again. “You’ll slow me down. I swear, (Y/n), it will be fine. I’ll see you in a minute.” 

He takes a step back, shutting the door before you can come up with a response. You’re too dumbfounded to even attempt to open the door again, too confused to try and follow. What could possibly be so important to him? What if someone finds you here? How are you going to explain that, huh? 

But the possibility of that is so remote. No one knows that you’re out here, how could they? Even if someone notices your absence at the party, they’ll just assume that you’ve retired to your room, right? And even if they feel inclined to check, that’ll take a few minutes, in which time San should return to you and get a move on. 

Still, you find it very hard to swallow your panic. 

What if this is it? What if you die because San had to go back for something that he wouldn’t even tell you about? Your breathing grows shallow with each new terrible thought that invades your mind. You can see it now, Hongjoong walking into the clearing, rage in his eyes, knife in his hands. Making you grovel and beg and plead with him only to end it right then and there, anyways. San would come back and find your still-warm body, soon to join you in death. 

You try to blink away the images that flit across your mind, realizing that your eyes burn as if you’d been crying. Your hand flies to your cheek, unsurprised to find it wet. Taking a deep breath, you do anything you can think of to distract yourself. 

The air in your car is so stale, your months old air-freshener doing little to help the dry, bitter smell. You fumble with the glove box, pulling it open while praying that there is anything in it that can distract you from the horror of the moment. 

Papers spill out as you indiscriminately pull everything out, ushering it onto your lap. You throw aside the car manuals and your outdated insurance, searching for just one thing, anything that could remind you of what you were enduring these terrors for. 

A brochure for The Bean slides out, your own face smiling from behind the coffee bar. Adam can be seen in the background. It almost makes you sick, that horrible reminder of the life that you had been forced to give up. You keep sliding the papers around, cutting your finger in your desperation. 

Sucking your paper cut into your mouth, you realize that you're not going to find anything in the glove box. You make a half hearted attempt to shove everything back inside before deciding that it's not worth it. 

Tears still pouring down your face, you reach for the driver's side sun visor, flicking it down to reveal the photos you kept in the sunglass clip. 

On top is a picture of Jungeun and yourself, embracing with your faces pressed together. You quickly slide it back, knowing for certain that you have a picture of Mingi in the stack. 

Seeing the picture will wake you up, you're certain. It will give you the courage to keep going. 

Finally, a polaroid emerges. It's the first picture you had clipped to the visor, a testament to how much time had passed before you started looking for Mingi. How had you waited so long? You pry the polaroid free, it having stuck to the metal after so long. 

Though your hands shake, you don't really need to see the photo in detail to appreciate it. Mingi stands in the center, a peace sign next to his eyes. He's not smiling, rather giving you a sour look. He wasn't pleased to be the first test subject of his gift to you. The second photo was of yourself, taken by him, you remember. The third was a selfie of the both of you. 

You don't have either of the other photos, but you have this one. Something compels you to protect the picture, to keep it on you, so you slide it into your waistline and pray that your pants don't distort it too much. 

A knock on the window almost kills you on the spot, with the way your heart leaps into your throat.

The shock of who you see through the window makes you gag. 

No sooner after seeing his face does he open the door, falling onto his knees next to the car to be eye level with you. 

Seonghwa is drunk, much more drunk than he had been when you were with him earlier, you realize this very quickly with the way his voice wavers as he asks, “What are you doing?”

You have no response. You open and close your mouth a few times, but only choked sounds of fear come out. 

He grabs your hands, holding them in your lap. “Why are you crying? Are you leaving?” 

He sounds so sad that your heart nearly shatters. Your heart should shatter, now, knowing that escape is impossible. But you can only focus on Seonghwa, on his knees, in front of you. 

His bangs brush his eyelids. “You're leaving?” He asks again, “without me?” 

Seonghwa hiccups, frowning. The question is so absurd you can't pay any mind to it. Why would you bring Seonghwa with you? His forehead comes to rest on your thigh. 

“Seonghwa, go back to the party,” you manage to get out, clearing your throat after. 

“I can't,” he pouts, “Hongjoong is mad at me. I can't tell why.” 

You think Hongjoong always seems a little mad at Seonghwa, but you're not going to say that to him now.

“Please, Seonghwa, go.” 

He shifts his face and blinks up at you, his eyes reflecting the moonlight so prettily it almost hurts. “Come with me, then.” 

Seonghwa gets to his feet, but he doesn't release your hands. They dangle between the two of you, the height different causing yours to float up. “We can fix this. Just come with me,” he says. 

You're shaking your head before you realize it. “I can't go back. I can't do this anymore.” 

Seonghwa bites his lip, looking around. “This isn't going to end well; please,” he looks back at you, “just come back with me. I won't say anything, Hongjoong will never know, we'll both be fine. We'll be fine. Nothing has to change.” 

“I can't go back.” Your heart beats wildly in your chest, you can feel its thrum. When San returns, what will he do about Seonghwa? How will he possibly get past him? Seonghwa won't let you leave, but you have to. To what length would San go to get you free? 

You don't want Seonghwa hurt. You realize now, staring up at him, that you care about him. More than you would've ever thought you would. Who is Seonghwa if not the ultimate victim? Is he not just a reflection of yourself?

“Get in the car, Seonghwa.”

He frowns again, pouting his lower lip. “I can't leave Hongjoong.” 

“Yes, you can. Get in the car.”

You don't give a second thought to your proposition, nodding your head toward the back seat.

“I won't leave Hongjoong.” Seonghwa clarifies, dropping your hands. They smack down onto your thighs, stinging. 

You'd question him, start yelling at him if you could. But you can hardly form a coherent thought and every word feels like risking the contents of your stomach coming up. Instead, you frown, looking down at your lap rather than at his confused face. 

“You can't leave Hongjoong, either,” he says. “Even if you run, he'll find you, always. You'd come back on your own, you won't know how to live without him anymore.” He tells you this eerily flat. “Just come back with me, he doesn't have to know about this.” 

Seonghwa is speaking nonsense. Even your flurried mind understands this.

“Please.” He begs. “(Y/n), please.” 

You shake your head. 

He squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head as singular tears run down his cheeks. “I'm sorry. I tried to help you, I did.” 

Seonghwa turns away from the car as the sinking feeling in your stomach solidifies into a rock of dread. 

Of course, you knew what it meant to see Seonghwa out here. There was never any chance, not after he had found you. If he knew where you were, Hongjoong did, too. Surely, he wouldn’t risk you getting away. He would drag the moment on, though. Making Seonghwa come here, making him plead with you, what sort of torture was that? What was the point? Isn’t he just going to kill you, now? 

Why is it that, when Hongjoong enters the clearing, you aren’t scared? You hardly feel anything. You knew this was coming. You knew that this would happen, didn’t you? There wasn’t any other possible ending to this night. You wanted to believe that it was possible, that you could escape, but it was futile. It was never a possibility. Even with San’s help. You knew it, deep down. 

Like Seongwha said, there is no getting away from Hongjoong. You were foolish to think that you could, and you know it, now. 

Instead of watching Hongjoong approach, you watch Seonghwa slink away. He doesn’t go far, stopping to rest his head against the roof of a car a few down from your own. You can imagine how good the cool metal must feel. 

You snivel, wiping at your eyes as Hongjoong stops in front of you, standing where San had stood, where Seonghwa kneeled. He’s silent. You don’t look up at him, instead focusing on his hands as they hang at his sides. They’re empty, though clenched into tight fists. 

“You have ignored every. Single. Opportunity. I have given you.” He emphasizes each word. “Chances I gave you to make the right decision.” 

It’s not even worth your energy to respond, is it? Obviously, you should’ve known that the various conversations you had over the night were warnings. How else would everyone manage to bring up something that would make you want to stay? And Seonghwa… 

How humiliating. 

“I’m disappointed in you.” Hongjoong says, and it’s so much worse than if he had been screaming and violent. “I thought you were starting to fit in.” 

You glance at Seonghwa, who still has his back turned to you. He seems to be shaking, but you find it hard to believe that, even in this scenario, he would cry for you. This has to be part of it, right? Part of making you feel guilty? 

Looking at him is a mistake, though. Hongjoong harshly grabs your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “Look at me when I'm speaking to you.”

You still have no idea what to say to him. It all seems so stupid, in retrospect. 

It's only as you look up at Hongjoong that you start to wonder where San is. If you asked, you'd surely get your ass handed to you. But the terrible feeling in your stomach only gets worse. What if he comes back to this scene? How will he react? Poor San, he was so desperate for you. How will he feel, with the plan destroyed? Does Hongjoong know the depth of his involvement? 

So, you break your silence. It couldn’t get much worse, could it? “Where is San?” You ask. 

Hongjoong lets go of your face, but only to bury a hand in your hair, yanking you into standing. Instinctively you bring your hands to his, crying out in pain. He only smirks, releasing his grasp on you. 

You collapse onto your knees, catching yourself with your hands at his feet. Your nice pants, they're dirty, now, you catch yourself thinking. Like that's the biggest issue right now. 

“Where is San?” He repeats your question, spitting the words out like they leave a vile taste in his mouth. 

Reduced to a heap at his feet, you can't bring yourself to look up at him. This night has turned up just as your last failure had. You're not all that surprised when Hongjoong's boot comes down on your hand, though not hard enough to hurt. “Look at me.” 

You do. From even further beneath him, he looks more Biblical than ever. 

“Who do you think told me where you were?” 

Ah. 

Of course. 

That makes sense. 

Your face contorts, though with what emotion, you’re not sure. 

You want to think that there might be an explanation, one that doesn’t involve San betraying you to a homicidal maniac, but you know that there isn’t. Instantly, you know. 

He never meant to help you. He never cared about you. He had laid a pretty trap for you, at Hongjoong’s request, and had sprung it just as planned.

And he couldn’t even be here to see the fruits of his labor. Pathetic. Your mind swims with everything you had told him, everything you confessed to him, the times you had been warned about him. You fought with Mingi over him, you defended him to Mingi. 

“Yes,” Hongjoong smiles down at you. “All of this has been planned since the day I made you live with him.” 

You nod up at him, realizing that he must want something else from you. 

“You must understand, (Y/n), that I control everything. You can’t trust in anything besides this fact.” Hongjoong kneels to meet your eye line, inadvertently crushing your hand under his foot as his weight shifts. 

Gritting your teeth, you suck in any sound of pain that threatens to escape. The last thing you plan on doing tonight is letting Hongjoong realize the depths of your pain. 

He tilts his head in question. “Do you have anything you want to say to me?” 

Even in your haze of emotions, you can hardly resist spitting a few choice curses at him. “Fuck you.” 

He grimaces, though he’s clearly not actually affected. “Not what I was thinking, Princess, but I’ll give you a pass.”

His hands are suddenly gripping into your shirt at the shoulders, yanking you onto your feet. He hardly allows you to catch yourself before he begins dragging you across the clearing, away from your car, into the trees, away from your last shred of dignity. 

There isn’t a single thing on your mind as he pulls you through the trees and eventually back around to the front of the compound. He’s groveling under his breath, probably cursing you out in any and every way that he knows how. And you deserve it. You deserve every stumble of your feet, every tear burning your cheeks, every horrible thing that Hongjoong can fling at you. 

You failed. Not only yourself, but everyone stuck here in this cult. You’ve utterly failed. No one is going to be rescued, no one is going to be saved. You cling onto Hongjoong’s blazer as he guides you to the barns, having no idea what could be waiting for you there.

Maybe this is it, huh? Maybe he has finally realized that you’re more trouble than you’re worth. For a second there, it had looked like he was going to keep you alive, but maybe not. That was probably just wishful thinking. He’s probably delivering you to Jongho, too disgusted to even deal with you himself. 

Hongjoong releases you to throw open the barn doors. You have to catch yourself on the siding to remain standing, but Hongjoong quickly returns his grip on you, hauling you further inside the barn. 

It’s the animal barn. He walks you into the center aisle, dropping you unceremoniously. You fall into a heap at his feet. Again.

You can hardly hear Hongjoong over the general animal sounds, but especially over the oinking of the pigs. “I’m going to leave you here,” he starts, glaring down at you. “When I come back, you’re going to still be in this building.”

Sniffling, you nod in agreement. 

He scoffs. “You’re lucky, (Y/n), very lucky. If you had made it even an inch down that road, what do you think would’ve happened to you? To Mingi? Haseul?”

There isn’t anything for you to say. The pigs fill the silence. 

“Selfish. Utterly, disgustingly, selfish.” Hongjoong spits. “Stay here— before you try and lure anyone else to their certain deaths.” 

With that, he turns on his heel and exits the barn, shutting the door behind him. The overhead lights remained on, but you barely even found yourself capable of caring. The dark wouldn’t make any difference. You failed.

And Hongjoong was right. You are selfish. Even though you knew the truth about San’s intentions now, you hadn’t known before. You had thought he was risking his life to help you, and you had been fine with it. What was wrong with you? Why is this just occurring to you now? Had you really been so desperate as to involve another person? What’s the matter with you? Have you no shame? No consideration? Were you such a narcissist that you would put your freedom above someone’s life?

Your heart beats rapidly in your chest as you wipe your cheeks with your hands. The sensation is calming, allowing you to take a few deep breaths as you collect your bearings. As hard as it is, you should try to keep your head on straight… there’s still no telling how the night will end, and something tells you that it’s far from over. 

One thing you know for certain, though, is that you cannot do this again. You can’t. No matter what. Something else will have to give. There is no more escape. There is no more saving yourself. How the fuck could you, after this? 

Standing, you brush your hands off on your pants. Hongjoong hadn’t said anything about not moving from the spot. Might as well look at the animals. Animals can be calming, right? Therapeutic? Maybe?

Wishful thinking. 

Your tears keep flowing, but you find your breathing to be coming back to your control. You stumble with your first step, but quickly regain your balance, tottering over to the nearest animal pen— which happens to be the pigs.

This is where you had confronted Jongho about Haneul. How long ago was that, now? That horrible confrontation lingers as you grip the metal fencing keeping the pigs in place. The bar is cooling, demanding your attention. You realize now that the air itself, though warmed by the animals' presence, is getting rather chilly, as well. 

Tugging your sleeves lower over your hands, you peer down at the animals. Some of them are sleeping, but most of them aren’t. Each sow is separated from the next, in neat, orderly rows. Last time you had seen them, there weren’t individual pens. Jongho had been feeding them in one huge, disorderly mess. It had been rather disgusting. 

You had also fought with Mingi, that day. About so many things that just seem stupid, now. What was there to even be mad about? Mingi is just Mingi. You can’t fault him for being a victim.

And the fact that he was just looking out for you, and, in fact, turned out to be absolutely correct. 

As you turn to walk to a different pen, the feeling of the polaroid at your waist recaptures your attention. Stopping in place, you fish it out of your waistline, cupping it in your hands. 

Thankfully, it doesn’t seem to be damaged. You stare down at it once more. It couldn’t have been more than thirty minutes since you had put it in your pants, and, yet, here you are. Completely changed. 

Mingi’s face frowns up at you, but your eyes catch on something outside of the photo. Your own expression melts into a frown as you lower your hands, shoving the picture back into your pants. 

Wiping your tears again, you kneel down to the ground next to the pen. 

What had caught your attention was a scrap of white, so starkly bright against the packed dirt floor of the barn. 

You reach out to grab it, suddenly overcome with an even worse feeling of dread. Your scalp goes cold, a shiver spreading across your body as you touch the… fabric. 

Fabric. 

Blinking your tears away as fast as you can manage, you pull, feeling your stomach drop as the piece grows into a cuff. Buttons and all. A white cuff. 

There’s nothing that you can do to stop yourself from thinking the thoughts that come— attacking you at nearly instantaneous moments. 

It’s Haseul’s. This is from Haseul’s shirt. What did Hongjoong say would happen? About the pigs? The pigs? Haseul? This is Haseul’s shirt? It can’t be. She’s in her room. She’s been in her room this whole time. This could belong to anyone. This could’ve been cut off of anyone’s shirt. It doesn’t have to be hers. It could be anyone’s. Why would it be hers? It isn’t possible. San said she was fine. He failed, but she was fine. Hongjoong said she was fine. Mingi said— what did he say? Did he say something? Anything? It doesn’t matter. San said—

“You shouldn’t be in here,” a familiar voice calls from behind you. 

You fall onto your butt, forgoing your pants. They were ruined, anyway. Clutching the cuff in your hand, you don’t even reply to Jongho’s warning. Your breathing is out of control, again. Each breath you take is tighter, harder, less satisfying, more panic inducing. The fabric in your hand burns with the tightness of your grip. 

Jongho grabs your shoulder. “Can you even hear me?” 

A fully-fledged sob leaves you as you look up at him. 

His eyebrows furrow in some emotion— probably disgust— as he frowns at you. “Get out of here.”

Shaking your head, you try to say even a single word about Hongjoong telling you to stay here, but you can’t get anything out. If anything, you cry harder, shaking your head back and forth and back and forth and back and forth, shutting your eyes as tightly as you can. 

This cannot be real. This can’t be happening. It can’t be Haseul’s shirt. Even if it is, it doesn’t mean that she’s—

No, you won’t even think it. You just keep shaking your head. It can’t be. It cannot be. 

Jongho’s hand leaves your shoulder.

“This is your punishment, (Y/n).” Hongjoong’s voice booms from behind you. It’s so shocking that you open your eyes, spinning around in the dirt to face him. He’s not alone. Seonghwa and San are with him, both of them looking incredibly uncomfortable. 

Seeing San doesn’t relieve you at all. Seonghwa’s face is puffy, his clothing disheveled and dirty. Neither of them look at you, instead looking at the ground in front of them. Jongho remains at your side, seemingly caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

You don’t know what Hongjoong means, though. Or, rather, your mind completely refuses to see what is in front of it until it is irrefutable. There is still hope, now. There is hope. The cuff doesn’t mean anything until Hongjoong says that it does. There is nothing in you that can accept this until… 

“Haseul is dead.” Hongjoong says. “And San killed her.” 

The wind is completely knocked out of your lungs as you fall onto your hands, heaving. 

Though you can’t see San, you can hear him. His protests are immediate, “What? Hongjoong, why would you say that? I didn’t do that. I didn’t even touch her. I swear, (Y/n), why would I lie—”

“Not to mention that he orchestrated your entire escape attempt at my request,” Hongjoong’s voice cuts through San’s pleas to be heard. 

The reminder calls you back into your body. Hongjoong had to say it in front of San, you realize, he had to make sure San knew that you knew of his betrayal. You look up at the three men in front of you as you gasp for air. The cuff lays in the dirt before you, momentarily forgotten. 

San is gaping at Hongjoong, his hands outstretched as if he was in the middle of trying to reach for you. “Are you fucking crazy?” San barely squeezes out in his apparent anger. 

“I am, in fact.” Hongjoong replies, though he doesn’t bother to address San. He smiles down at you instead, watching your facial expression change from one of despair to one of hatred. 

Your eye twitches as you stare at San, who starts to plead for you to hear him out once more. 

“I swear, (Y/n), it wasn’t like that! You heard him! He’s crazy! He only has something to gain if you don’t trust me, right? Why would I ever do that? I love you, you kno—” 

San had been crouching down to your level as he made this speech, which was probably a horrible idea. Using your hands as your leverage, you launch yourself at him, toppling him over into the dirt. 

Pinning him to the ground with your weight, you stare down at his (very surprised) face. 

It takes you all of five seconds to realize what you couldn’t in the past month. 

Hongjoong is right. Again. 

Your tears drip down onto his own face. San tries to speak, but evidently can’t think of anything to say to you. 

Hongjoong laughs at your side. 

You pull your hand back, bringing it back down and slapping San as hard as you can muster across his face. The smack rings through the barn, your hand stinging all the way up your forearm. 

San tries to clutch his cheek, but your knees keep his arms at his sides, and he instead looks up at you, stunned. 

“Say something.” You demand, finding your voice. 

He opens and closes his mouth, grasping for anything to say. “He’s lying to you— I swear it, I had nothing to do with Haseul, and I would never set you up, I would never, you can’t trust him, can’t trust anything that he says, (Y/n), really—” 

You hit him again. This time, he exclaims in pain as you feel your hand go numb. Seonghwa flinches in your peripheral vision and Hongjoong laughs once more.

“Fuck you.” You blink, more tears falling. “Fuck you.” You lean back, freeing his arms, which immediately come up to rest on your waist. “Hit me.” 

San’s face contorts, confused, “why would I hit you?” 

Absurdly, you smile. You smile wide. “Hit me. Do it.” You hit him in the chest, though lighter than you had his face. “What? Are you a coward? You can kill my best friend, but you can’t hit me?” Your voice raises, reaching a shrilling quality. “Come on! Hit me! Do anything!” 

San’s hands remain holding your waist, not moving. 

“Hit me so that I don’t fucking kill you! Hit me to show you at least think your miserable life is worth living! Hit me! Hit me! Hit me! Hi—”

“That’s really enough, (Y/n),” Seonghwa’s voice cuts in as he grabs your arm, keeping you from landing another blow to San’s chest. “You’re being childish.” 

You scoff, but it devolves into a laugh. “Childish? I’m being CHILDISH?” You wrench your hand out of Seonghwa’s grip. “Tell me, Seonghwa, please, how is someone supposed to react in this situation? What is the normal reaction? Enlighten me, please!” 

When Seonghwa doesn’t respond, you stand, turning your full attention to him. San’s hands easily slide off of you, though you remain hovering over him. He finally starts cradling his red cheeks. 

Seonghwa looms over you, his back to Hongjoong as he stares over his shoulder at you. You feel guilty for lashing out at Seonghwa, somehow, but it doesn’t stop you from fanning the flames. There’s nothing that could stop you, not in this moment, from bringing anyone else to your level. 

You make eye contact with Hongjoong, who has his arms crossed nonchalantly, an enormous smile on his face. You imagine that this night is just going peachy for him. Just how he wanted it to. Maybe, just maybe, you can ruin his fun. 

At Seonghwa’s expense. You hardly feel bad about it, though, as your eyes snap back to Seonghwa’s. 

“Without turning around, take a guess. Is Hongjoong watching you, his perfect little whore, or me, the spoiled brat who doesn’t behave?” 

Seonghwa sneers, a small laugh escaping him. Of course, he plays right into your hands. He exhales one shaky breath before grabbing your shoulders, using the grip to shove you as hard as he can, sending you falling back to the floor. You practically land on top of San, your legs resting over his waist, but you can only laugh. 

Seonghwa falls onto his knees in front of you, crawling until he can reach your legs. He grabs you by your calves, pulling you off of San until you’re practically underneath himself. You’re sure that he’s planning on strangling you, there’s a sweet little look in his eyes that tells you everything you need to know.

And you’re excited, you want him to kill you, you realize. Your laughing becomes intermixed with your sobbing as Seonghwa puts his weight on your stomach, the fury in his eyes blazing harder with each sound you make. 

Before you can truly get your way, though, San is grabbing Seonghwa by the back of his shirt, using all of his strength to pull him off of you. You hear the fabric rip as Seonghwa sprawls onto his back in front of you, and San takes the same position that Seonghwa had just had on you. 

You can’t find it in yourself to sit up, so you opt to just turn your head until you can see San. Vaguely, you can hear the sound of him hitting Seonghwa as you had just pleaded with him to do to you, and this only makes you cry harder. 

You turn your head in the opposite direction, and you’re greeted with the image of Hongjoong, still sitting contentedly. He glances down at you, but he doesn’t betray anything.

“Can’t you just kill me?” You whisper to him, hoping the others can’t hear it, “won’t you please just kill me?” 

Hongjoong frowns, then, slowly rising to his feet to come to your side. He holds his hand out, waiting for you to take it. 

You don’t at first, opting to continue looking pathetically up at him. From this angle, with the blurriness of your tears and the extreme perspective, Hongjoong really does look… ethereal. Angelic. Godly. Whatever the word is. You take his hand, allowing him to heave you into a sitting position just in time to see San land the punch that you’re sure breaks Seonghwa’s nose. 

It’s only in this moment that you realize San is screaming at Seonghwa, mostly incomprehensible phrases of anger. Seonghwa is trying to fight back, his hands clenching onto San’s shirt, slapping at his shoulders and face, thrashing underneath him, but San is too pissed to let any of it stop him. 

Hongjoong squats at your side, resting one of his knees on the floor. He doesn’t drop your hand, instead using it to pull you closer to him. He puts his face next to yours, making sure you’re watching the scene unfolding in front of you. 

“Doesn't this make you feel good? Seeing what San would do for you? Even after it’s all over?” He whispers so close that his breath tickles your ear. “It could always be like this. Everyone could love you like this.” 

Love? This is love? Your ploy to upset Hongjoong by including Seonghwa failed. If there isn’t love lost between the two of them, then what on earth about this is love?

Still, your heart skips a beat. 

You had completely forgotten (or, maybe, ignored) Jongho’s presence until Hongjoong turns to give him some sort of look that must tell him to stop whatever is going on. In the next moment, Jongho is resting a hand on San’s shoulder, barely having to pull at him to get him to cease his movements. 

Seonghwa turns his face toward you and Hongjoong, blood pouring from his nose and split lips. 

A sob escapes him, this time, before he turns to face the other direction. 

You really hadn’t meant for Seonghwa to get hurt from this. You just wanted to goad someone into giving you what you wanted, and he was easiest. You avert your eyes from him, wanting to give him the privacy he clearly desires. 

Hongjoong doesn’t care. He drops your hand, standing to go to Seonghwa. 

You look at San and Jongho. San is also sobbing, his knuckles torn to shreds in his lap. 

You don’t feel bad for him. You don’t feel anything for him. You’re sure the upset will come in the next few days. The bomb will drop, the emotions will explode, but now, in this moment, you couldn’t care less if he lived or died. 

Frankly, you couldn’t even care less about your own life. Haseul is dead. She’s dead. And she’s never coming back. You’ll never see her smile again, never text her that you’re bored at work, never hear her complain about her parents arguing again. Her parents. Her own parents. They’ll never see her again, and it’s your fault. Entirely. 

You look back at Seonghwa and Hongjoong just in time to see Seonghwa slap Hongjoong’s hand away from him, groaning as he turns his body to fully face away from his God. 

That can’t be a good sign. 

Hongjoong sighs, crossing his arms over his chest before turning on his heel to come back to you. 

Great. Just what you wanted. 

“Is she really dead?” You can’t help the question, squeezing your eyes shut as they fill with more tears. 

Hongjoong sits beside you, taking both of your hands in his this time. “She is.” 

“For how long?” You don’t open your eyes.

He takes a few seconds to answer, as if contemplating whether you should hear the truth or not. “She died the day she arrived.” 

You’re not sure if this is the best or the worst news that he could’ve given you. You’d believed lies for weeks, but at least she hadn’t been suffering the entire time, like you pictured. 

“Was it really San?” You still had a hard time believing it. Could San kill? Had you really shared a bed with him for over a month, not knowing that he had killed Haseul himself, believing that he hadn’t?

“No,” He admits, letting go of one of your hands, using his newly freed hand to rest on your cheek. You open your eyes, feeling your lips quivering with… every emotion on this goddamn planet. Anger. Fear. Sadness. Whatever. “Jongho killed her, and humanely at that. But San helped with the mess. I didn’t want it to be like this, (Y/n), I warned you.” 

And what could you say. He warned you. Very plainly. And you had disobeyed him. And look at what it cost. 

Hongjoong moves his hand away from your face, using it to wrap around you and pull you back into a hug. 

There's nothing to do anymore. Nothing to say. You cry into his shoulder, finally wrapping your own arms around him in acceptance. 

He rocks you, there, on the ground. “It might be hard to understand now, (Y/n), but everything I do, I do for you.” 

You nod. “Please don't make me see him again.” 

Hongjoong knows who. He strokes your head, smoothing your hair, “Of course, love. Of course.” 

Though you know that this is all because of Hongjoong, you still find his words comforting, his embrace grounding. You squeeze him tighter to you, appreciating the feeling of having at least one person on your side. He’s right, he’s so right, you can’t trust anyone else, not when this is how it turns out. 

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[riding-the-sunset-bird]

Hi! Thank you~

By "assuming" I don't know if you mean GB Patch or me? :o Because actually all I did for this post was write up a script in-game to place characters beside each other at their "neutral" size and position (had to do some extra work because Step 2 Miranda for example actually doesn't have one - only a close up one - so I had to resize her manually with Cove's close up size+position as a guide).

I wasn't sure about Baxter's height at first because you meet him alone in the base game so there's no one to compare him to (so his "neutral" size/position could've been a close up), but if you play Derek's version of Soiree from his DLC and meet Baxter that way, you can see Baxter and Derek next to each other and directly compare that with a shot of Cove and Derek.

A character reference based on all four Steps of Our Life! It's only "sort of" a height reference as well since obviously they're not 100% accurate (the devs don't have specific heights for everyone to my knowledge).

I did dig into the code to try and get characters at their "normal" heights but there are other matters at play too (example: Nicolas is obviously "taller" than he should be because he needs to be pushed upwards to be visible enough above the game's text box; likewise with other very short characters).

Still, this should serve as either a nice reference guide for every character or a "height reference" in the sense of getting an idea of which characters are shorter/taller than others.

I'm also going to detail some extra notes below the break, including posts from GB Patch's Tumblr that reference any defined heights (with Cove being the obvious one) or general height things, as well as some more stuff about the MC's height in comparison to the three love interests depending on what you pick.

Cove's height is listed on GB Patch's FAQ as 4' 1" in Step 1 (also stated as "mostly average, perhaps a bit on the short side"), 5' 4" in Step 2 (in-game this is defined as "very tall" on the MC's potential height spectrum, as that is the only option considered on par with Cove's height), 6' 0" in Step 3, and 6' 4" in Step 4. A fun fact is that Cove's final height was originally 6' 3" (191cm) instead.

Derek in Step 2 is under five feet tall (this post also lists Cove as "around 5 and a half feet tall" which you could take as either close enough to 5' 4" as stated above or a potential original height he had that got changed). In-game, he's "short" but not "very short", as having your MC be "very short" will prompt narration telling you that you're shorter than Derek, whereas "short" only has you relate to him in smolness generally.

Step 4 Derek is "mostly average." He wouldn't be considered tall nor would he be considered short. His youngest brother Nicolas will "probably end up as a similar height to him" once he's more grown up.

Step 4 Baxter is "taller than average, but not especially tall."

I've been informed that, on the Our Life Patreon Discord, Step 4 Derek's height is listed as 5' 9" (175cm) whereas Step 4 Baxter's is listed as 5' 11" (180cm), so those are their defined heights. Before that, both of their heights had jumped around somewhat. A post from 2019 said that Derek was 5' 11", but a post from June 2021 said that Baxter was 5' 11" and Derek was 5' 9" (so consistent with the Discord). Then there's also another post from July 2021 (you'll have to scroll down for this one) that listed Baxter at around 5' 10" while Derek was 5' 8"/5' 9". If you're insane enough to try and use the character reference too, then Baxter would actually be around 6'1" at minimum since he's taller than Step 3 Cove (though you could also make the same argument that this means the mom trio of Pamela, Noelani, and Kyra must be decently tall as well since they're so close to Cove on the character reference).

I don't have any experience with GB Patch's other game, XOXO Droplets, so I don't know what ages the characters are in it, but since both Shiloh and Jeremy are characters seen visibly in Our Life, I thought I'd also mention that they're listed as 5' 10" and 5' 5" (or 5' 5 1/2") respectively in XOXO Droplets. Jeremy also apparently grows to 5' 8" in his 20s and he's 22 in the Our Life Cove Wedding DLC (I don't think this is spoken of in the game specifically but he's labeled as 22 in the code).

As for the MC and how their height plays into things, "tall" and "very tall" as well as "short" and "very short" tend to be considered the same for the most part in the game's code. It's not that there isn't a difference at all (I would say it's still notable), it's just that sometimes the game may be more vague about height differences. My post about Errands references this where you don't need more athletic points due to being "very short" instead of "short" to give Cove a piggyback ride.

A guesstimate I'd make is that about 5% of the time, the game will take note of whether you're "very tall" instead of "tall" or "very short" instead of "short." Otherwise, you're either "generally tall," "average," or "generally short." There are also other instances (usually with Cove) where the game might just check if you're either generally tall (around Cove's height) or not generally tall (i.e: definitely shorter than him).

This is actually relevant to the heights because, following all above information, one would assume that Step 4 Derek is average, Step 4 Baxter is tall, and Step 4 Cove is very tall going off the MC's potential "height spectrum" of very short, short, average, tall, and very tall, but it's not entirely the case.

A "tall" MC (generally tall) will look "down" at Step 4 Baxter just as he will look "up" at them or they'll look directly at each other if the MC is "average," same as Step 3 Baxter, but--

when the game has any instance of differentiating between "tall" and "very tall" (they never do this for Step 3 Baxter so the base assumption would have to be that he's just average height), things change.

During Baxter's apology in the wedding of his Step 4, Baxter dips his chin to look at the MC if they're "short"/"very short," levels his chin to look at the MC if they're "average"/"tall," and then lifts his chin to look at the MC if they're "very tall." A generally tall MC still has to lean down to kiss him if they choose to do so though.

Also, during the intimacy scene with Baxter (either in his office or his living room), if the MC is "very short," "short," or "average," it states that Baxter is taller than them. If they're "very tall," then Baxter is shorter than them, but a "tall" MC is "almost the exact same height" as him.

This is all a really long-winded way of saying that GB Patch referring to Step 4 Baxter being "taller than average but not especially tall" might mean that he's some infuriating middle ground between average and tall where he's not quite one but not quite the other either (which honestly is very Baxter of him so I can't even be mad).

[vsa-pieldepapel]

I still love your post-deltarune ralsusie hc where she lives in a truck(?) and basically spends her whole free time on the dark world with ralsei. (Though I can't find it :() How has chapter 3 and 4 affected that headcanon for you? Also, what do you think Ralsei is? kris's horns? green crayon? some other unidentified object? Not even a object and just pure darkness???

if you're struggling to filter for specific things, you can add /archive to the blog url and filter by the tag #ralsusie, it has to be there im certain. Was probably an ask, as you see, asks are how I end up rambling about different ideas... Lets get into it together anon

yeah, the whole thing was flipped over on its head, not gonna lie. Now that the writing has been emphatic on the illusory ethereal nature of Dark Worlds, including confirmation that DW food doesn't actually fill the stomach, I can't say the best end is one in which Susie stays... There is a theme that was planted since Ch.2 but has become especially resonant recently, which is escapism into idealistic fantasy worlds, and I feel like the theme being built upon here is finding fulfilment in the real, too. My gut's telling me that what is being set up here now is Susie taking Ralsei out of the darkness to bring him to the Light World, so he can live as a normal 17 year old guy without worrying about the end of the world.

I remember the unused blushy sprites from chapter 2 that, at the time, I believed toby removed because they were a little too ralsusie-y (Susie lowkey flips her shit internally in them) but now I see that the probable actual reason on top of my Pepe Silvia reason is that toby chose a much more poignant moment to reveal that Susie has blood. Does this mean that monsters in DR bleed, and are cremated to create their "dust"? or does this mean that Susie is a hybrid between a monster and a human? It's very interesting that the discoloration of the DW that she made, influenced by her subconscious, has her coloured like a white human girl with brown hair and otherwise features purple prominently. Is that reflective of this? Being a medical enigma, caught between two worlds?

the truth is, we don't yet know. But I feel like setting up the blood to appear there was purposeful because of... Pinocchio, of all things

Ever since Spamton (puppet element, strings, long nose, a trickster/deceiver/liar), we first got introduced to a general pinocchio, puppet, strings, control, reality theme. Whoever is calling the secret bosses informed spamton about a human SOUL having the power to see past the dark into the light. Is this an indication that through the power of a human soul, a Darkner can gain a body not illusory or dependent of an object or concept? And it's very interesting the way Spamton phrases it: [A Real Boy]. Very much a pinocchio phrase.

Pinoccho is about a wooden puppet of a boy, wishing to be real, a flesh and blood human child for his father Gepetto. Eventually his wish is granted through the power of morality and love for his father (and willingness to sacrifice out of love). Ralsei insists that he's not real, but through the affection and support of Susie he has become more his own person since the very instant they met and she got him to remove his cloak.

Is the Last Prophecy meant to imply Ralsei's sacrifice? I think so, at least; the way she emphasizes that ESPECIALLY Ralsei won't let that happen is probably her placing her will to live on him (most people don't want to die). If Susie is at least partially human, could she give some of her power to help him become a real boy? Could his willingness to sacrifice, and her love, be the conduit to make him Real? Is that the ultimate subversion of the Last Prophecy? I don't know. But that's what all of this has made me think about. And I am now very excited at the idea of Ralsei becoming real, not just in spirit but through the power of hope and friendship.

(Susie can still live in a van though. They can cuddle together there).

As for what object Ralsei is, I like the green crayon as a joke a lot, but I'm honestly starting to doubt if he is an object at all. There's something special about him, his endless seemingly innate knowledge of the rules of the dark worlds, his role as a prince and a hero, the fact that he was the very first Darkner Kris and Susie met and he seems to have been spawned from the grand fountain in Castle Town... I can't confirm it either way, but that seems to suggest he may be something more like pure darkness. I don't have a strong bet at the moment though.

Thank you for this ask! My passion for ralsusie has been fanned to a forest fire with the new chapters oh my godddddd

[writingdevil]

hiiiiii! Thank you for the Tongues and teeth and for every additional ask you wrote after that. Soooo interesting! I would love to see your take on skeptic / opportunist if you don't mind. It might not be romantical, anything you're comfortable with really. Have a good day!

(Thank you! I really like Skeptunist and I was debating for awhile on whether to write something for them, but they also felt like a ship that would be tricky to write for, but I'll try my best for you! Enjoy!)

Skeptic was never one to back down from a mystery, or the challenge of figuring out a complicated question. The journey from the beginning to the conclusion, watching as logic took control and let all the pieces fall into place, was an experience that Skeptic loved every single time.

This extended to his flock as well. There was just something about watching the way his flockmates lived, now that they had their own freedom and forms, that intrigued Skeptic. Why did Cheated get so angry at every little thing he deemed an injustice? Why did Contrarian spend his whole day goofing off and cracking jokes at anyone who would listen?

His fellow birds were an enigma that he wanted to solve as well, as a way of understanding them, and his latest subject was Opportunist.

If Skeptic took a step back to observe all the others with their odd behaviours at once, Oppy was the one that stood out to him.

He was never outwardly malicious or cruel, but everyone at this point knew that he was merely pretending so that he could get the upper hand. But why? They weren't trapped in a cycle of death anymore, so what reason would Oppy have for keeping up appearances? He looked like someone doing a one man play, but there was no audience to watch him.

Except Skeptic. He wanted to understand why Oppy behaved the way he did, because for as tricky and annoying as he was, he was genuinely an intriguing person, in Skeptic's opinion.

Oppy had a habit of just appearing in front of people and talking their ears off, and while most others would bat him away, Skeptic had started hearing him out, and even going so far as to seek him out to spend time together.

Once Skeptic started listening and taking notes on Oppy, he realised that, on the surface, Oppy would go through a cycle of talking about himself and then commenting and complimenting Skeptic on his intelligence.

At first, it sounded like a whole lot of nothing. It just looked like Oppy was still attempting to cosy up to people for his own benefit, and Skeptic was about to write him off as a self serving fool, but then he stopped himself.

Why?

Why did Oppy insist on acting like this, when it's been proven that there's no danger, therefore no need to grab control over others?

Skeptic had a few theories, ones that ranged from a secret intense insecurity, to an obsession with staying ahead of everyone else. Either way, Skeptic was determined to peer behind his mask, to see what it truly hid.

So he started engaging with Oppy more, actually listening and offering his own perspective to topics. It was actually-fun, to talk to someone who thought in a similar way to him, who used logic in different ways.

Skeptic used logic to understand the world around him and all his questions. Oppy used logic to understand the people around them and what their goals were. It was just different enough that it had Skeptic yearning to understand Oppy's mind even more, to the point where Skeptic was actually starting to look forward to spending time with Oppy.

He liked being around Oppy. He liked being around a sharp mind who appreciated the way his brain worked, and who actively enjoyed listening to Skeptic ramble about his many theories-to the point where it made his heart start to beat faster.

The realisation didn't dawn on him until he found him replaying Oppy's words in his head-'I never would've thought of that,Skeptic. You have such a brilliant mind, Skeptic. You're truly as smart as you look, Skeptic.' Just Skeptic, Skeptic, Skeptic.

Oppy kept saying his name in that sugary sweet tone, and Skeptic started to crave the taste of it, and he wouldn't even care if it was poisonous. He liked the way Oppy thought, the way he crafted his words perfectly to the person, the way he was perfectly in control of his image, whereas Skeptic always felt like he was a frenzied mess everyday.

So-he had fallen for the backstabber, and he had somehow come no closer to seeing his true self in all that time. What was meant to be a calm and controlled observation and investigation, had diverted into a mess of feelings that Skeptic hadn't a hope of deciphering, so he went to the only person who could possibly understand-his brother, Smitten.

But what his brother told him in response to his woes was advice, and suffice to say, Smitten's suggestion was worth testing out.

So, one day, he decided to.

"I've got the cards, Skeptic!" Oppy announced, already sitting at the kitchen table and waving a deck of cards in his hand. Skeptic had asked to play a few rounds with Oppy, one of many activities that they found themselves doing together. But as Skeptic walked into the kitchen, he abruptly halted, pretending to look confused, patting down his feathery body, until eventually Oppy asked, "What's wrong?"

Skeptic sighed in frustration, impressed by how well he was doing. He glared at the ground in annoyance and said, "Nothing. I just forgot my notebook, is all." Skeptic always carried a notebook with him in case he suddenly had an epiphany about anything.

He had barely finished speaking before Oppy was up and out of his seat, handing the deck to him as he said, "Let me get it for you, friend. You sit and deal the cards." Skeptic smiled in success as Oppy quickly walked away before he could protest, his need to feel useful to others coming in handy right now.

A few minutes later, Oppy returned, sitting down and sliding the book over to him while also managing to pick up his whole deck in one hand. Oppy's eyes scanned his cards, and Skeptic saw a flash of excitement that he rarely witnessed in Oppy.

Oppy genuinely liked playing these games with people, no matter how much it involved his skills of lying and bluffing.

Skeptic's eyes lingered on Oppy's face, before he shook himself out of it, placing one hand firmly on his notebook. "Thank you, Oppy," he quietly said, Oppy looked over his cards to give him a big smile, and Skeptic found that he liked it, no matter if that was the whole purpose of the mask.

"Don't even worry about it. If I was thinking as deeply as you do on a daily basis, I feel like I'd be allowed to let some little things slip." Although Skeptic wasn't actually one to forget things, the words still reassured him over something he wasn't even aware he worried about.

Oppy placed the first card down, and Skeptic couldn't wait any longer, and made his move.

His hand shot out, not to put a card down, but to place it over Oppy's hand, gripping it gently as he firmly said, "Really, Oppy-you're very kind."

He could feel the way Oppy tensed up underneath him, and when Skeptic looked up at him, he found his smile frozen inbetween confidence and shock, making him just look nervous and terrified now. He could practically see the way his eyes clouded over, his mind probably searching for the correct act to sell him to allow him to stay on top of this.

But Skeptic wanted to push this further, so he gave Oppy's hand a little squeeze, and that was when he saw Oppy let a small gasp out, his face falling into such a soft expression that Skeptic wondered if Oppy had even realised he had let the mask fall.

But it only lasted a few seconds, as Oppy blinked, and a cold calm washed over him. He smiled bitterly, shaking his head as he went, "No,"and tried to pull his hand back, but Skeptic just tightened his hold on him.

Oppy finally looked up at him, but it was with such a wide and intense look that it made Skeptic's feathers bristle. Oppy chuckled emptily, and now Skeptic was just wishing for Oppy to be dramatic or performative, because that would be so much better than the defeated expression he wore.

"No," Oppy repeated, "we're not doing this."

"Doing what?"

"Don't do that!" Oppy snapped, his smile trembling in rage and his voice bordering on a yell. "Did Smitten put you up to this?"

"He didn't exactly put me up to-"

Oppy rolled his eyes with a harsh sigh. "I'm not stupid, Skeptic. I know what you're doing." Oppy's smile turned cruel and sharp as he nodded towards his notebook. "I know you've been studying me and my habits. Read it on the way here," he admitted, but it was as if he was happy to reveal that to Skeptic, to admit to the invasion of privacy.

But Skeptic knew that Oppy would look through his notebook. He hadn't cared, because he had nothing to really hide.

Skeptic kept his voice calm and level, giving Oppy's hand a reassuring squeeze, to which Oppy tried and failed to hide his reaction to, but Skeptic heard the quiet yet sharp intake of breath.

"Oppy, it's true that I was-observing you, but that was because I was trying to figure you out."

Oppy hummed. "I know," he replied bluntly, "although, I'll have to mark one of your theories as incorrect. I am in no way touch-starved-"

"Smitten begs to differ." Oppy tensed up at the mention of the passionate bird, and Skeptic warily watched as Oppy balled his free hand into a fist on the table. The silence was beginning to suffocate Skeptic, so he explained,"Smitten just told me that it seemed as if you really enjoyed touch and being praised-"

"No!" Oppy snapped, shaking his head with a disbelieving and nervous chuckle. Skeptic wasn't sure if Oppy realised he was accidentally squeezing his hand for comfort, but he wasn't about to say anything. "No," he repeated, panic now evident in his eyes, his mask cracking more and more, "no, that would be ridiculous. Me? Be desperate to have someone treat me like a pet? You scheming brothers must have me confused with Broken, because I would never let myself be so weak and pathetic-"

"It's not a bad thing," Skeptic softly insisted, stunning Oppy into silence. Skeptic refused to break eye contact with him as he lifted up their joint hands, showing how tightly Oppy was clutching his hand. Oppy stared as if he couldn't believe what was happening. "It's okay to want people to appreciate you and to make you feel loved. You're not weak for wanting that."

Oppy shook his head, but Skeptic leaned closer and said, "I'm sorry if I made you feel like I wasn't treating you with respect. I genuinely just wanted to figure out how you worked, because then I could learn how to be a better friend to you-I'm not very good with assuming what the right thing to do is."

With every word he spoke, he saw Oppy's anger and mortification slowly dissipate, until he just looked tired, his feathers still puffed up in caution.

"I don't think-" Oppy quietly said, so quiet it could be considered a whisper, "-I don't think I'm very good at-accepting stuff like that. I'm not used to it, and that scares me."

Skeptic chuckled softly. "It scares me too, if I'm honest." Oppy looked up at him in surprise, and Skeptic found that he couldn't look away as he continued, "But I'd be happy to practice it with you."

Skeptic was waiting for the moment that Oppy dismissed him, that he regarded him and Smitten as a threat to his safety now, and distanced himself from them. Skeptic didn't want that, but the longer the silence went on, the more he was sure that was going to be the case.

He was busy trying to ignore his heart crying out in protest, when he felt it- a single squeeze back.

His head shot up to look at Oppy, who's face was flushing deeply as he refused to look anywhere near Skeptic. "I'm willing to test it with you," he mumbled, but it was more than loud enough for Skeptic.

Mask or no mask, Skeptic just wanted Oppy, and he would be sure to give him all the love he deserved.

[anoant-haikyuu-dump]

Quick fic about Kenma and Fukunaga rooming together in college! 

Roughly 2300 words, Kenma POV, platonic, basically Fukunaga being odd and Kenma dealing with that. 

*Sidenote: i know roommate/dorm culture isn't the same in Japan as it is in the US but just suspend your disbelief lol

------

Kenma had no idea what to expect when he agreed to room with Fukunaga in their freshman year of university. Sure, the two had spent the better part of three years together— suffer through enough early-morning practices, grueling training camps, and endless bus rides with a guy and you come out the other side soul-bonded whether you like it or not. What truly solidified their bond was their third year. With Kuroo off to college and Hinata a whole prefecture away Kenma was practically forced to hang out with his fellow second-now-third years lest he fall back into the arms of his old hermit lifestyle, and as tempting as that was he promised Kuroo he’d leave the house more than once a month. Stupid childhood friends being concerned about your mental well-being. 

Although first-year Kenma would shudder at the thought of wasting all his free time on a weirdo like Fukunaga, much less Tora, it wasn’t nearly as miserable as he’d dreaded. The two were freaks— loud, obnoxious, guts-obsessed freaks in a certain ace’s case— but overtime he’d grown accustomed to their quirks. Those were his captains; they’d joined the club together, grown together, gone to nationals together. Laughed at Tora when he tangled himself in the net together (minus Tora, he was pissed). It’d be a lie to claim they didn't worm their way into his heart like the persistent little parasites they were. Those freaks were his friends, Kenma begrudgingly came to accept. Yes, even Tora. Besides, what other option did he have? Lev? He didn’t hate himself that much.

All that’s to say Kenma and Fukunaga were close. Tight, even. Enough for Fukunaga to know where the Kozume’s hid their spare key under a rock in the garden (though that was Kuroo’s fault for snitching). But three years of friendship and easy-access to one’s house doesn't instantly unlock all the mysteries of a person. Especially when that person is a complete and utter enigma like Shouhei Fukunga. 

This was proven not even a week into their first semester. Kenma had just finished a business class, which he’d spent pretending to take notes on his laptop while actually grinding away at some RPG from his steam library. He was expecting Fukunaga to be home since he didn't have class till the afternoon. 

He wasn’t expecting the unicycle. 

Where he got the thing was beyond Kenma, as was the way he effortlessly navigated their shoebox dorm without ramming into a single piece of furniture. It was honestly more impressive than surprising— Kenma wondered when he learned, how, why, before remembering who he was talking about. Fukunaga doing weird shit without explanation. Fork found in kitchen. Kenma had more important things to worry about, ignoring lectures on marketing management or whatever was a full-time job and he wanted to lie down. 

“I’m back.” He said with a yawn, kicking off his shoes as he shuffled over to his bed. 

“Hey.” Fukunaga replied. No acknowledgement of the situation, not that he expected any. 

Kenma got nice and cozy under the covers, then pulled out his computer to continue his game. He’d finished most of it while his professor was rambling on about how “this is going to be on the exam, blah blah blah” but he wanted to 100% it. Nothing better than an afternoon of achievement hunting. He spent a good 10 minutes combing through a dungeon in search of a secret boss, but for some reason he just couldn’t get into the zone. Probably had something to do with, oh you know, the whole-ass circus routine playing out not even five-feet away. He sighed and shut his laptop. Fine, he’ll bite. “What are you doing?” 

“Practicing.” A man of many words. 

He was tempted to ask “What for?” but knew that would only create more questions. Instead he called, “Know any tricks?” Without missing a beat Fukunaga reached into his hoodie pocket, whipped out three plastic balls, and started juggling. Figures.

Kenma sat there watching for god knows how long, long enough that Fukunaga had to hop down to get ready for class. He stuffed the unicycle under his bed, answering Kenma’s question of where he stored the thing, but creating the new question of what other garbage he had hidden down there. A secret for another day. With a classic “See ya later Alligator.” Fukunaga headed out, leaving Kenma alone with his thoughts. It was only then that it fully sunk-in— he’d just wasted the past few hours watching his roommate unicycle around their room like a clown-in-training and he didn’t even realize. Should he be pissed? Impressed that Fukunaga managed to hold his attention for so long? (some of those tricks were seriously complex). It wasn’t exactly the most productive use of an afternoon, but then again was he ever productive? Games, unicycling roommates, who’s to say what constitutes a good use of time? He figured a little change of pace wouldn’t kill him. 

---

The rest of the semester went on much like that, always something going on. One day Kenma came home to at least five kittens scampering around their dorm. All pets minus service animals were strictly off-limits so he wasn’t sure how Fuku,naga got them past security, nor how they vanished the next day without a trace. Another time he got super into chinese yoyo and nearly broke the overhead light with a misplaced throw. After that he got into regular yoyo and nearly broke a lamp.

A common Fukunaga-ism was for him to stop by random flea markets and buy whatever knick-knacks he could find. Because of that his side of the room was constantly cycling decor. Take, for instance, the inflatable tube man taped to the ceiling that always freaked Kenma out at night, or the kiddie pool in the corner full of ball pit balls from a kids’ center that’d shut down. Most of his purchases were bought purely based on their potential for puns, of which Fukunaga had plenty. Kenma always knew when he’d thought of a new one cause he’d silently giggle to himself in that way that makes him look like a chipmunk. Sometimes Kenma would ask to hear them, he’s always found Fukunaga funny. If he ever makes it as a big comedian Kenma’s taking credit for being the first person to tell him that. 

To put a long story short, rooming with Fukunaga was like living in a sitcom, except the writers ran out of normal scenarios six seasons ago and had resorted to throwing the most outlandish shit at the wall to see what stuck. The most surprising part?  Kenma didn’t even mind. It was a lot, yeah, but Fukunaga never dragged him into his shenanigans or invaded his space. Honestly the most annoying thing he did was invite Tora over, who was 10x more annoying than whatever new hobby Fukunaga had adopted for the week. Plus, it’s not like Kenma was the greatest roommate either. He was getting into streaming around this time so it wasn’t rare to find him shouting at his monitor past 4am or hogging 90% of the room’s outlets. Together they were the most dysfunctionally-functional duo in the building, and an infamous one at that.  

---

Kenma and Fukunaga were not popular among their floormates. They weren’t hated per say but if everyone else had to vote on a pair to banish from the building Kenma had a sneaking suspicion they’d be first in line. One reason for this was Kenma’s aforementioned streaming— Fukunaga didn’t mind the late-night noise but their neighbors weren’t too keen. The second reason was the unmistakeable stench that wafted from their room any time Fukunaga pulled out his little instant pot to make dinner. Kenma couldn't blame him, personally he’d rather knaw on uncooked blocks of ramen for every meal than step foot in their university’s dining hall. If it wasn’t for his streaming career taking off Kenma would be drowning in debt from all his food delivery fees. And to be fair the smell wasn’t always bad, Fukunaga was phenomenal at cooking after all. As a part-time chef he knew his stuff. The problem was his favorite foods. Octopus. Squid. Dousing everything in fish sauce. Their dorm might as well have been a seafood market. It didn’t help that Fukunaga always went way overboard— no hot pockets or box mac and cheese here, he had every prohibited appliance under the sun from a hot pot to a griddle to a waffle maker. Air fryer salmon doesn’t smell like roses. 

Kenma had never been the biggest eater. In highschool Kuroo always bothered him about that— skipping lunch isn’t healthy Kenma, you have to eat vegetables Kenma, three mints and a granola bar doesn’t count as dinner Kemna. It was annoying sometimes, especially at training camp when Bokuto got involved, but it was nice to know they cared. When Kuroo left for university the role of “Kenma’s feeder” was taken up by Tora (“OI KENMA, IF YOU DON’T EAT YOU’LL COLLAPSE ON COURT AND WE WON'T MAKE IT TO NATIONALS! THAT PLATE BETTER BE EMPTY WHEN I GET BACK”). Then graduation rolled around and for better or worse Kenma was free. He tried his best to eat decently as a promise to Kuroo but he often found himself forgetting to order food before restaurants closed. 

One night at some unholy hour Kenma was on his usual stream grind— he’d started in the afternoon and ended up getting so invested that he skipped class…and lunch…and dinner. It was a new game, ok? The cup noodles he planned on eating sat unopened at the edge of his desk. Noodles meant microwave, which meant getting up, which meant pausing his game, and that wasn’t an option at the moment. He was in for the long haul. Chat had been pestering him about eating for hours now but who cares about their opinion? They’d also been yapping about a ghost or some bullshit looming behind him all night so why should he trust them with anything? He didn’t even realize Fukunaga was still awake until he felt a light tap on his shoulder. With a yelp he spun around, spooked by the sudden touch. There he was holding out a bowl of curry, chat’s ghost. “Eat.” When Kenma didn’t take the bowl Fukunaga bopped him on the head with it. “Pretty sure starving on stream is against TOS.” Then he set the bowl down on his desk and disappeared. Every stream after that chat bothered Kenma about his “guardian angel” and asked for him to come say hi.

---

By their second year both Kenma and Fukunaga realized that university wasn’t for them. Kenma’s online career had skyrocketed and he was teaching himself more about business through the start of his own company than lectures and exams ever could. Fukunaga was gradually finding an audience at a nearby comedy club and had his own taste of internet fame when one of his sets got reposted online and went viral. It just wasn't worth staying enrolled for their future plans, thus the two were officially drop outs. With that said and done the time had come for them to part ways—there was no need to share an apartment, Kenma had enough cash to afford his own and Fukunaga made plans to move in with Tora. 

On the final day they stood outside next to the road, boxes stacked high as they waited for Kuroo and Tora to come pick them up. “Welp,” Fukunaga said, giving him a salute “It’s been an honor captain.”

“You were Nekoma's captain, not me.”

“First mate doesn’t have the same ring.” They laughed. Fukunaga went in for a hug, and for once Kenma let it happen. “Until we meet again boss.” 

Kenma snorted into his shoulder. “Please, our new places are only a few train stops away.” 

“How about until I ask Kuroo where your house key is hidden again.” 

“Don’t you dare.” 

In the passenger's seat of Kuroo’s sedan Kenma pressed against the window, watching as the world around him blurred into one big blob of city. Kuroo was saying something, idle chatter about classes or work or their friends, but Kenma was only half listening. On the one hand he was excited to have his own space for the first time in his life, the freedom to do anything he wanted any time he wanted without prying eyes. He could finally have a dedicated stream room, that was cool. On the other hand he had to admit, he was gonna miss the oddities that accompanied living with Fukunaga. The unpredictability, the jokes, the ever-changing decor, even the inflatable tube man hanging from the ceiling. And the home-cooked meals of course, going back to DoorDash was gonna be an adjustment. He figured if he missed his food that much he could drop by their apartment anytime. He’d have to deal with Tora now but maybe that wasn’t so bad. They were all adults now, more mature. Mellowed out (at least for Tora standards). He decided that he'd make a point to call his friends more often. 

“You ok?” a voice called, snapping Kenma out of his trance. Kuroo nudged his foot with his own. “You’ve been pretty quiet today, more than usual.” 

Kenma shot him a small smile. “Yeah, I'm good.” 

“Great, cause i'm gonna need you to listen to this next part-”  Years later when Fukunaga started appearing on tv interviews and variety shows Kenma was proud to say that they used to be roommates way back when, and that he was the first one to tell him his jokes were funny.

[emma23]

Found you :

Marc/ Steven/ Jake x reader

If you want to support me, take a look here 💕

https://ko-fi.com/settings?tab=profile

The crashing of waves was the first thing Y/N noticed when she opened her eyes. The gentle hum of the ocean, the salty breeze, and the distant call of seagulls created a symphony that could lull anyone into serenity. Vacation was supposed to be her time to relax, and for once, she allowed herself to embrace the idea of doing absolutely nothing.

She adjusted her oversized straw hat and sipped her iced coffee, relishing the sharp contrast between the heat of the sun and the coolness of the drink. Life felt good, for once. Simple.

Until it wasn’t.

“Sorry, is this seat taken?”

She glanced up, her eyes meeting a pair of deep brown ones that seemed to hold the weight of a thousand secrets. The man standing before her was ruggedly handsome, his jawline sharp enough to cut glass and his dark curls slightly tousled, as if he’d just rolled out of bed.

“Uh… no,” she managed, gesturing to the chair across from her.

He smiled—a small, hesitant thing—and sat down.

“I’m Marc,” he said, extending a hand.

“Y/N.”

The handshake was brief but firm, his calloused fingers brushing against her skin. She tried not to think about how that simple touch made her stomach flip.

The conversation flowed easier than she expected. Marc had a way of making her feel seen, as though her words carried more weight than they actually did. They spoke about everything—travel, favorite foods, bad Netflix shows—but he skirted around anything personal.

It was strange.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, she felt like she knew him. Or at least, she wanted to know him.

The next evening, they ran into each other again—this time at a small bar near the shore.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he said, his smile wider now, more confident.

“You’re either stalking me or this town is too small,” she teased, sipping her cocktail.

“Maybe both.”

His words were laced with humor, but there was an intensity in his eyes that made her heart race.

It wasn’t long before she realized there was more to Marc than he let on.

“Wait, you’re… British?” she asked one day, confusion evident on her face.

“No,” he replied, his voice softer, the accent gone. “That’s Steven.”

“Steven?”

“It’s… complicated.”

And complicated it was. Steven, kind and gentle, was the polar opposite of Marc. Where Marc was guarded, Steven was open. Where Marc carried the world on his shoulders, Steven seemed to find joy in the little things.

And then there was Jake.

Jake was an enigma, appearing sporadically and always with a mischievous smirk. He didn’t say much, but when he did, his words carried an edge that sent shivers down her spine.

One night, under the glow of the moon, Marc found her sitting by the shore, her feet buried in the sand.

“Spend the night with me,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the waves.

She turned to him, her heart hammering in her chest.

“I’m not sleeping with you,” she replied, her voice firm despite the heat rising to her cheeks.

“It’s not about that,” he said, stepping closer. His hand brushed against her cheek, his touch gentle yet firm. “I just want to hold you, kiss you, talk to you.”

Her breath hitched. “But why?”

“Because now that I’ve found you,” he murmured, his eyes locking onto hers, “I can’t let you go.”

The night was filled with whispered confessions, stolen kisses, and the kind of intimacy that went beyond physicality. They didn’t rush. They didn’t need to.

For the first time in a long time, she felt safe.

In the days that followed, she found herself entangled in their lives—Marc’s brooding silence, Steven’s nervous rambling, Jake’s quiet confidence. It was chaotic, messy, and utterly perfect.

And when she finally gave in to her feelings, it was everything she hadn’t known she was missing.

“I don’t know how this works,” she admitted one morning, tangled in the sheets with Marc. Steven had made her tea earlier, and Jake was nowhere to be found.

“We’ll figure it out,” Marc said, pressing a kiss to her temple.

She smiled, feeling a warmth she hadn’t known she needed.

“I can’t believe I fell for three men and didn’t even get a discount.”

[wholefruity]

The Perkins-Lurkins family:

Theories and Character Analyses of Silly Cartoon Fish

Note: These are more of my personal theories and headcanons regarding stupid cartoon fish made for the hell of it.

Part 2: The main Perkins-Lurkins family dynamic

Before we get into the Perkins-Lurkins family dynamic, it’s best to know how Perch and Lurch are different, and how their differences in success as well as their differences in upbringings shaped them into the fish they are today.

Note: Several ideas were inspired by @perchwife's concepts, so please check out her Perch analysis as well! You can read part 1 of my Silly Cartoon Fish Analysis here. All links will be underlined.

Perch and Lurch key differences…

Perch is a weird enigma and walking contradiction of a fish. His mood is never stable nor consistent. He’s shown to have random bouts of paranoia, sadness, and fits of aggression towards various people, especially when they inconvenience him in any way. He’s incredibly full of himself and extremely egotistical, but also has a very fragile ego and sense of self at the same time. His core identity is tied to his success and job, and whenever something or someone threatens his identity, it destroys him (see “Smartificial Intelligence” SBSP episode and “End of Summer Daze” Kamp Koral episode). He likely suffers from some form of borderline personality disorder or bipolar disorder (I’m diagnosing a cartoon fish).

While I talked about Lurch in my first post, I’ll recap some core points. Lurch has shown he can be snarky at times, but deeply cares about his brother. He’s far more sensitive and kinder than Perch, but isn’t without his own faults. His self-esteem fluctuates a lot. One minute he can appear extremely confident, and the next he can be cowering in insecurity. Overall, it would seem Lurch’s personality just wasn’t fit to make it in the cut-throat world of television.

Note: While I’ve done my best so far to keep things fairly accurate to what I feel the canon would follow in my insane ramblings, a lot of what I’m writing in this particular section is more along the lines of “If I wrote it, here’s how I would work it, write it, and rework it!”

--

The Perkins-Lurkins family!

Perch and Lurch grew up close as young children, but were unfortunately separated around the time the they were supposed to begin attending Kamp Koral due to their parents’ divorce. Perch would end up living with his mother’s side of the family in Bikini Bottom while Lurch would end up moving to Shell City to live with his father (this explains why Perch and Lurch have different surnames despite being twins). While the twins would still see each other a lot, their bond was never the same. In fact, their bond would only become further strained the older they got.

While the family tree is likely far larger than this, I’ll be focusing on characters that have made canonical appearances in the series.

--

Ma Perkins

Perch was often favored by his mother over Lurch due to his early driven nature and aggressive personality, and it wasn’t a secret. Ma Perkins encouraged a competitive streak in the twins, often hinting she cared more for the twin that was more successful. This would become far clearer when the two reached adulthood. The woman is pretty toxic, and it’s clear where a lot of Perch’s issues first stemmed from. Ma Perkins used to say it best when she said, “One of you will grow up to be a winner, and the other will grow up to be Lurch.” When it came time for the divorce, Ma Perkins figured it would be easier for her and Pa Lurkins to care for one child each rather than have to go back and forth with custody between towns and cities (besides, she already had her favorite). Pa Perkins was indifferent and went along with the motions.

In present day, Perch is extremely close to his mother and his maternal side of the family, having grown up with them. Ma Perkins and Pa Lurkins still have bouts of fighting when coming into contact with each other, but their contact is almost non-existent now that their children are adults. Ma Perkins tends to act incredibly hostile and dismissive towards Lurch due to his association with his father, often calling him “the Lurkins son.” Lurch struggles with even considering her as his mother due to the fact she was rarely in his life to begin with, and when she was, she was “cruel and unusual.”

Ma Perkins is a fairly well-off woman financially. Likely a former television star like so many other successful members of the Perkins-Lurkins family. Her glory days are now behind her, and she continues to live through the success of her son.

It’s important to note that some say baldness comes from X chromosome inheritance, and Ma Perkins isn’t fooling anyone with her wig.

Pa Lurkins

Announcer Fish is Perch’s father: I’ll just say that it makes the most sense. Announcer Fish obviously shares similar genetic traits to Perch (similar hair, changing / inconsistent colors) further solidifying this theory. (credit to @perchwife for this theory)

Pa Lurkins was a famous announcer in Bikini Bottom similar to Perch, but it was clear that his work always came first. He was a barely present father, often neglecting his own wife and children for work. He’s the type of dad that wasn’t home much and when he was, he was 3 beers in laying on a recliner in the living room watching TV to unwind. Despite this, his children would idolize him heavily in their childhood, and were inspired to do the jobs they do today because of him.

Post-divorce, Lurch and Pa Lurkins would move out of Bikini Bottom and to Shell City (closer to the Lurkins family) where better work opportunities for him awaited. Overall, things would be good for a little while until his career in the big city eventually declined. From there, Pa Lurkins and Lurch would be on the move constantly, from Bikini Bottom, Shell City, and Atlantic City. Anywhere Pa Lurkins could go to give himself a second chance, he followed. Meanwhile, Lurch would continue to be pretty much neglected by his dad, leading him to become more self-reliant but have issues with abandonment that need to be worked out in therapy.

Pa Perkins has phases of becoming humbled and better as a father when he’s fallen on hard times. However, these phases fade the moment another chance at stardom and fame approaches. Pa Lurkins likely suffers with the same struggles relating to identity as Perch, as we can also see him lost, directionless, and zombie-like without his job (see “Smartificial Intelligence” SPSP episode). Strangely enough, we also don’t see the two bother to interact with each other despite both residing on Old Reporter Row for a short time, implying their relationship is basically non-existent or strained beyond repair. It’s likely that Perch does not consider Pa Lurkins to be a father, similar to how Lurch doesn’t see Ma Perkins as a mother.

--

What did Perch mean when he said Lurch’s family “left”?

Lurch is divorced (common theory):

It’s an idea, and probably what the running gag was referring to in all fairness… but it’s exactly what Nickelodeon wants you to believe.

Lurch was abandoned (truther theory):

During a segment on the Inquirer, Perch is heard saying “I hope your family never returns,” to which Lurch shockingly responds “Me too!”

This doesn’t sound like something a man would say about a recent divorce… at least not the kind and sensitive Lurch we know and love!

There are hints to Ma Perkins’s disdain for her own son, Lurch, in the Bikini Bottom Inquirer. She is brought up more than once and has never seen / acknowledged him. The most telling fact of Ma Perkins’s preferential treatment of Perch is when the Bikini Bottom Inquirer had hosted their event to decide “Who’s the Most Handsome Man in Bikini Bottom?” and Ma Perkins only cast her vote for Perch, ignoring her other son who was involved. Combining previous headcanons, we can infer she did this because she doesn’t consider Lurch to be her true son, barely even considering him to be part of the Perkins family.

While working with Perch on the Inquirer, we can assume further strain was put between Lurch and Ma Perkins due to him being around her golden child. Lurch likely attempted to contact his father multiple times hoping to get a morsel of support, but his father was gone both physically and emotionally, having already moved cities again to chase that dragon known as fame. We can see in the episode “Pablum Plankton” of SBSP that Pa Lurkins is able to get work still, even if it’s not often or anything major. During rough times, Lurch was essentially alone and abandoned yet again, and Perch would relish in teasing this information to Lurch live on the air multiple times. Perch and Lurch's relationship was at an all-time low at this point.

Perhaps it was seeing the effects that the industry had on his own family combined with the abuse and manipulation he endured first-hand that made Lurch quit television journalism for good. It’s no secret that even in his last appearance Lurch wasn’t even happy to be on television (see “Beneath the Bun: Krabby Patty Secrets Special” SPSP episode).

--

Old Mrs. Perkins

There isn’t too much to say about old Mrs. Perkins. She’s a fairly nice lady but has a few screws lose (although this is a common Bikini Bottomite trait). We can infer from the episode “FUN-Believable” of SPSP that she was a television news helicopter reporter. Don’t worry, turning into dust didn’t kill her at the end of that episode, she got better!

Throughout years of family drama, she’s always wanted everyone to get along. She lives in Bikini Bottom but frequently stays in Atlantic City for periods of time to turn her social security checks into winnings at the Lighthouse Casino. While she loves all her great grandchildren equally, she has a particularly strong bond to Birch, who frequently takes care of her (despite not being blood related).

Who the hell is Birch Birkins?

Birch Birkins is Perch’s and Lurch’s cousin from the Lurkins side of the family. Birch changed his surname to “Birkins” because he thought it had a better ring to it.

Birch sounds oddly similar to Perch and Lurch, but with a strong southern accent (see Floyd aka Gas Station Attendant 1 from SBSP). He’s a bit older than the twins, being in his 40’s while the twins are in their early to mid 30’s. He suffers from the Lurkins scale color genetics and balding. (Yes, balding comes from the Lurkins side as well, meaning no matter the chromosome inheritance, the twins are doomed either way.)

Birch is a bit of an oddity in the family. He’s sly, cunning, and fairly charming, but has never found the same level of success as his cousin Perch due to his tendency to get involved in illegal activities. He may appear to be wealthy judging from his fancy suit and high-end boatmobile, but he’s filed for bankruptcy multiple times, is in a deep amount of debt, owes some bad fish some money, all while still needing to pay alimony to multiple ex-wives. Birch said it best when he was attempting to comfort Perch about his divorce. “It gets easier after the third.”  He’s also a jack of many obscure trades. He was once a used cars salesman, auctioneer, and is even an ordained minister (and that’s just to name a few). He recently got his law degree from a barely credible university.

Birch worked as an intern on the Bikini Bottom Inquirer for a short period of time when he was down on his luck. He was only able to get the job after begging his cousin for a chance to work along with a place to stay (he stayed with Lurch of course). He never appeared much on camera like he originally hoped he would, and wasn’t very well liked by the higher ups at the Inquirer, resulting in him being quickly fired by Perch. Despite this, he doesn’t seem to harbor any ill-will towards Perch. Maybe he understands the cut-throat nature of show business too well.

Birch considers himself on good terms with Perch, despite Perch hating him more than Lurch. Birch is close to Lurch, naturally being part of the Lurkins side of the family. But the family member he’s closest too is Old Mrs. Perkins. He extremely protective of her, and would do anything for her (there’s a heart underneath that snake oil salesman exterior). How they became close is a mystery and a story on its own.

Birch currently lives in Atlantic City, working various seedy announcer jobs, gigs at the Lighthouse Casino, and often dabbling in schemes and scams as an off-again-on-again con-artist. He loves easy money and wants to make a name for himself. Too bad his gig at the Bikini Bottom Inquirer didn’t go anywhere!

--

If you like some of my weird writings and ramblings, you might enjoy the Spongebob parody fic me and my husband are working on together!

(Apologies for any grammatical errors and mistakes!)

[golden-earcuffs]

Pitching Shows to GMMTV [1/?]

Here, I ramble about some show ideas that I have and gmmtv should make because I need to see them being made. Lots of fangirling and heaps of delulu logic ahead!

Tagging: @dallasthetimetraveler

1. World’s Greatest Detective

GMMTV should make a series on Sherlock Holmes and call it “The Detective and The Doctor”. He is famous, interesting, and most importantly, queer. Why haven’t they capitalised on him yet?

It’s a surprise that they haven’t made this show yet. Ever since the copyright lifted, I was expecting some production company to make Sherlock Holmes explicitly queer and in love with Dr Watson (looking at you, RDJude). But since no one has done it (apart from “Furtive Festivity” and no, “The Irregulars” does not count), GMMTV has the golden opportunity to be the pioneer. The company is known for making QLs, then having a spin on the obviously queer detective–doctor duo will be iconic. 

I also think it will be a very profitable choice? Given that Sherlock is an insanely popular character among international fans and has also been a recognized part of fan culture. It was actually his stories that introduced me to the queer media.

I know it will be yet another adaptation, but hear me out. They don’t have to copy the stories as they are. It would not be a remake so one won’t know the story beforehand. And since Sherlock Holmes is public domain, they can just upload the show on YouTube (unlike “Cherry Magic”, “F4: Boys Over Flowers” etc)

And it will be relatively easy, a new case per week, while hinting at a bigger villain in the initial episodes and then setting him up for the finale (I know “Petrichor” is doing something similar but every mystery show isn’t about the consulting detective.) Sherlock Holmes is a character that works in every era– 1890s, 20s, 90s or the modern day, if you manage to capture his essence. Sherlock Holmes can be anyone from a 90 year old British man, a Japanese woman in her 20s or a pre–teen Canadian girl. 

I know GMMTV doesn’t make a lot of 2nd seasons (“TGG”, “Still 2gether” and now “Only Friends: Dream On” being some exceptions, and while “The Enigma 2” was announced, we know nothing else about it) but honestly? If they make this show, I hope they don’t stop at only one season. Milk it properly. Gimme like five seasons with six episodes each (no, it’s not a lot. “Granada Holmes” had 36 episodes, “CBS Elementary” had 154 episodes in total, spanning over 7 seasons).

The thing is, they have enough content to make it long. Plenty of source material (4 novels and 58 short stories is no joke) and several adaptations to draw inspiration from. Asian ones too– “Miss Sherlock” and “Sherlock: Untold Stories”. I watched the former and it was so good. A Thai adaptation will be thrilling if they utilise the local stories and settings and have a good direction. 

And that’s the thing.

They’ll need a very good director (and writing team) to pull it off. Mystery and plot twists are hard to do, if I take examples, “Not me” revealing Todd as the villain wasn’t shocking (perhaps they weren’t going for it), “The Gifted Graduation” overdid it with it’s plot twist after plot twists and the secret weapon suspense in “Home School” was straight up bad.

However, I’m sure they can pull together a good team to work behind the cameras. I hope a team that actually likes the characters and is willing to tell a good story. There is no scarcity of great detective shows, what makes Sherlock Holmes special is its characters. 

I want GMMTV to make it because I know for sure that they won’t queerbait me. They won’t make Sherlockians like me cry like the BBC version or leave us hanging like the Ritchieverse. No, they’ll have Mr Holmes and Dr Watson make out hotly in 221B Baker Street as soft violin plays in the background. 

Now, onto the Fancasts, because I obviously have some.

I want to see Sing Harit as Sherlock Holmes. Call me biased but I love him AND he’s a great actor whose potential GMMTV hasn’t fully utlised and that drives me insane. I just want to see him play a serious character without being the villain or the pervert.

helppp i cannot decide on a watson fancast

Either Namtan Tipnaree or View Benyapa would make a fantastic Irene Adler. And if they want to treat fans, they can genderbend Godfrey Norton and have her played by Film Rachanun. 

I watched that last one scene from “Home School” and since then Khaotung Thanawat as Prof. James Moriarty is stuck in my brain. He’ll be effortlessly good.

Also, Ohm Pawat as Col. Sebation Moran? I’ve seen people complaining that he’s been in too many serious roles and not to typecast but Ohm would work perfectly in action roles.

This post got way longer than I expected and I got to talk about only one potential show. I’m ending it here so more parts of pitching shows to GMMTV will probably come.

[zombieunicorngamerzu]

(GIP Misty Quigley x fem reader)

(Pre-crash Misty’s secret infatuation with you while being her only friend)

[Warnings - Pervy Misty, Masturbation, Stalking, Solmnophilia, slight dubcon, anal, creampie, love confession, jealous Misty, possessive Misty]

When Misty first met you, you were new to the Yellowjackets team. A more quiet loner type of girl, which Misty found extremely attractive. The first practice she watched you, all sweaty and exhausted as you pushed yourself to perform past your limits, she had gotten so lost in her thoughts of what you’d look like if you were panting and exhausted under her that she didn’t notice how she’d bit into her lip till it bled or the growing hard-on in her jeans that she had to quickly dismiss herself to fix in the lockeroom.

Quickly rushing into the girls lockeroom to close herself in a stall before pulling down her jeans and sitting down on the lid of the toilet, her hand immediately sliding down to grip the base of her cock while biting her lip to hold back a moan, starting at a quick pace so she doesn’t loose the visual of you in her mind, gasping and shaking as she jerked herself off until she was panting herself, moaning louder as she finally came, her cock spurting cum into her hand as she shivered.

She jumped when she heard the door open to the changing rooms, scrambling to get her pants back up, she was flustered and now she felt embarrassed and ashamed, coming out of the stall causally only to see you, sitting on a bench tying your shoes. You looked up when you saw her, giving her a small smile that made Misty’s heart flutter. “Hi, your Misty right?” You asked her with a soft tone. Misty was shocked, standing there frozen for a second, (you knew her name?) shaking her head with a smile as she stepped forward to hold out her hand before remembering what she’d just done and pulling her hand back to cross her arms behind her back and give you a polite nod, “Hi! Yeah- I’m Misty, obviously…” she giggled nervously before going quiet.

You just smiled at her behavior, you thought she was pretty cute, “Well then, Misty, it’s nice to meet you.” She looked so bright when you said those words, blurting back, “It’s like wonderful to meet you, um- do you wanna be friends?” She cut herself off before you could answer, “But- of coarse it’s okay if you don’t want to, I don’t wanna be pushy- sorry it’s probably weird to just ask you that-“

“Misty.” You cut her off mid ramble, making her freeze and look at you with a nervous expression, expecting rejection or worse, so she was surprised when you said, “Yes, I would love to be your friend.” And after that Misty attached to your side like a puppy, you became close friends very very quickly simply because you didn’t like to make many friends, you were never really the type to talk or approach people, you let them approach you, and we’ll Misty, Misty was perfect because she never expected you to be anything other than yourself.

She would follow you around and talk about whatever, asking you questions to which you would answer simply and she loved everything you had to say, it was comfortable, you were just quiet, you let her follow you around and talk your ear off all while being glad because she never forced you to talk back to her, it was easy to be quiet when she would do all the talking and Misty was just so infatuated with everything you had to say, she cherished every word and felt so special that you let her be your friend. Not many had that opportunity.

Overtime though, it was getting really hard for Misty to hide her true feelings from you, she loved you and she knew it. Everyday her feelings only got stronger and stronger, but it was so hard for her to tell what you thought or felt, you were an enigma to her and others. But Misty was tired about fantasizing what being with you would be like, she wanted you, like really wanted you, and she was so terrified because, what if she told you and you would hate her or not wanna be her friend anymore. She didn’t wanna risk that.

“Hey, Y/N?” Misty called over to you one day after practice, you stayed to help her pick up the cones like you usually do. You looked up with raised brows, “Yeah?” She just stood up a little straighter, looking shy as she spoke, “D-Do you wanna have a sleepover?” You just blinked at her request, (why did she act like a sleepover was asking for something impossible?) You just chuckled with a soft smile, standing up straighter as you watched Misty look like she was ready for rejection, “Yeah, sure, tonight?” Misty looked shellshocked that you actually agreed she squealed and rushed to hug you, making you laugh and tense at the hug as she shook you, she’d never had a sleepover before,

“Oh my god, thank you, thank you, I promise you won’t regret it, it’ll the best sleepover you’ve ever had!” You just chuckled with a soft smile, nodding before you and Misty headed back to the lockeroom to gather your things before heading back to Mistys house. When you arrived you were a little disappointed at learning that Misty was left alone at home a lot, her parents were doctors so they were always working. Making your way up to her bedroom as she gave you a tour of her house with cheerful enthusiasm you spoke out, “It’s lovely, Misty, thanks for inviting me.” She just shook her head quickly with a smile, “No, thank you for coming! I’ve always wanted a friend to have a sleepover with.”

“I don’t know why.” You spoke with a soft tone, you couldn’t understand why people didn’t like Misty- yeah she was a little awkward, but she was so kind and helpful all the time to you. She did get jealous and possessive at times, but you thought that was just her being a good friend. You sat on her bed with a shrug, your face just relaxed as you watched Misty sit down at her vanity, looking at you with wide eyes and a smile, “I mean, I think your a really good friend.” You spoke with honesty, making Misty smile so bright, fixing her glasses as she responded, “Well I think your like- my best friend- like the bestest friend ever!”

You just chuckled before Misty went on another ramble, you spent the night watching some of her favorite movies and eating whatever she force fed you, she had chosen to bake a shit ton of cookies for you, feeding you was one of Mistys love languages, you stayed up late until your eyes were drooping which Misty quickly noticed, her voice soft as she nudged you, “Hey, Y/N… let’s go to bed.” She spoke gently before helping you up, you just groaned sleepily and leant into her which she found utterly adorable, sleepy you was so compliant and relaxed.

After a long trudge of you stumbling and Misty helping you to bed, she finally got you to lay down, you fell on your stomach facedown in her bed with a sleepy whine, Misty blushed, she couldn’t help but have her eyes trail down to your ass, in those short shorts she just bite her lip, blushing when she felt her cock get semi-hard. (Not now…” she thought with a sigh, but you just looked so fucking perfect bent over her bed, she was already creeping closer, she tried to hold herself back but fuck it, her hands went straight to your ass before biting her lip when you jolted, she pinned you down with a grunt.

“M-Misty- what the?” You stuttered out, Misty just shook her head and shushed you with a ramble, pinning your hands behind your back, “Okay- I have to tell you, like I’m so sorry- but I like you, I love you and I’ve been trying to hold it back for so long but every time I’m around you all I can think about is how you’d feel and sound, and I NEED to fuck you Y/N! Please can you let me fuck you?!” Misty begged desperately against your back as you grew silent, feeling her bulge grinding right against your ass.

Misty grew so scared at your silence so she did the only thing she thought. She spanked you. You yelped so loud with a gasp at the impact, your ass pressing back harder on her cock which made both you and her whine as she spat out, “Answer me, Y/N!” You just stuttered out with a flustered tone, “I-Um… okay?” That’s all she needed to hear before she was pulling down your shorts faster than you could comprehend, you were confused when you heard a cap pop before gasping as cold lube hit your ass, eyes widening,

“N-No, wait Misty, I didn’t know you- fuck!!!” You screamed out a whine as Misty pressed the head of her cock roughly into your ass, the tip stretching you as you caught quick breaths and yelps, crying into the bed when her cock pushed in with struggle. It burned and you felt like your body was on fire, your legs kicking as Misty moaned so loud, biting her lip as she pinned your shoulders down roughly, pushing her hips harder to push her cock inside you with a groan, “Ohhhh fuck, aaghhh, Y/N, your so tight, fuck!” Misty was already panting and moaning so passionately, her hips already bucking wildly as she felt herself cumming fast from how tight you were squeezing her cock.

She shoved your face down against her sheets as you moaned and cried with your whimpers that sent Misty into a orgasm, her body shuttering as she screamed and bucked her hips with a loud smack against your ass, cumming so much and so hard, grunting as you trembled and tensed, crying as you came too, it felt like too much to cum with Misty buried in your ass, everything felt like too much, you were aching and full, “Good fucking girl!” She just grunted out, panting in your ear, sighing out, “Ugh, your so perfect…”

You just grunted with a pained whine, Misty had fucked you so hard and you were aching, whimpering with a sob as she carefully pulled out, her eyes locked on your tiny hole gaped from her work, watching your cum spill out with a possessive look, smiling before she gently turned you over with a coo, brushing your hair out of your face, “Ohhh poor baby, it’s okay Y/N, I’ll take care of you, your mine now, okay?” She smiled down at you sweetly which made you just nod shakily with a whimper, trembling still, “Y-Yeah, Misty… yours.”

[pumpkinpietimb]

I'm finally home and ready to talk about The Book!!

So, this book I've been talking about was found by Roier yesterday when he was looking for Cellbit in the castle. I don't think anyone thought much of it since Grandma's room is kind of a hotspot for almost all of Foolish's pranks. But I'm telling you, this one is NOT a prank. Especially not when said book was found accompanied by a VERY illegal gun.

Now. Here's the contents of the book.

i hope this finds the right person... hide it for now, be careful who you tell.

7 space 27

no one suspects a thing

that was a giant middle finger... asshole

no meaning. just for fun :D

3000 cielo 0

could someone find this first (alternatively: someone could find this first)

Ok, now that we've laid that all down, I'm gonna start rambling and theorizing under the cut

If you guys remember, Forever tried to barter Foolish's gun for his silence/lesser aggression. But Foolish told him he already had other plans for the gun... and I guess this was it.

I suspect he did this during that time Aypierre was doing a 24-hour stream and he randomly logged on. He usually logs on offline nowadays if he was hiding something from chat and other people... anyway, that's not the point! The point is the binary code on the first page and whatever the hell that was on the last.

The binary code translated to "7 space 27" which means. Literally nothing. Or DOES it?

Because I refuse to believe Foolish just randomly typed out binary code on a secret book handing over his gun to whoever finds it (most likely assumed to be Cellbit) which ACTUALLY translates to something. So I dug around and bullshitted my way to find a SOMEWHAT acceptable conclusion because I am not delusional and will never be as smart as Cellbit.

Keep in mind I have no fucking clue how enigmas work and used a chart for this bullshit. Specifically this one:

According to this chart, if we take the translated code and refer to them as our decimals, we've got 7 and 27 to look at. Now, if we look at our decimals' rows, we will get BEL and ESC as our ASCII symbols.

I searched up what they meant and they are literally:

BEL - bell, alert

ESC - escape

Now if we take those and complete the "sentence" that was there originally it would become "Alert space Escape" which is... something... but don't quote me on this, I could be 100% wrong.

But enough of that because my brain is already mush. Let's check the next one!

Next one being "3000 cielo 0"

I looked up what cielo meant, and it had various different meanings, but the common denominator was that it was high up. (i.e. sky, heaven, roof) But it could also be used as a term of endearment like mi cielo (my heaven) or something along those lines. And 3000 is some kind of angel number or something that means love and stuff.

My immediate thought upon searching up these two is the phrase "I love you 3000" but I might be grasping straws here. This might just be cords to a place somewhere up high with 3000 and 0 as the x and y axis. But you know, I like to make things harder for me.

Honestly, if you're still here and reading this paragraph, then I applaud you for being smart enough to understand whatever the hell I just wrote down.

There are two wolves inside me. One that thinks Foolish didn't really mean anything by these codes and the other that KNOWS he's smart enough to do this (AND would absolutely get help from the admins if he didn't)

[cain-e-brookman-archive]

Belong, Seek, and Avoid Tag

Rules: A person's identity can also be shaped by their social connections. Identify three things about your character: What groups do they belong to, and what groups do they believe they do not? What kind of people do they tend to seek, and what kind of people would they rather avoid?

Thank you for the tag @spideronthesun!

Gonna mix things up and do this one for Crucius

Belong

Crucius had a very solitary childhood. Due to family secrets and a few disabilities, he spent most of his time in his studies, yet still doesn't see himself being or belonging to the scholars. He shuns most academic groups and organizations with a distaste for both unearned superiority and what he sees as meaningless echo chambers. For the most part, he sees himself as separate from most, but not in a belief he is unique, but as a difficulty in finding like-spirited people who can tolerate his detached and cold facade.

Seek

He purposely surrounds himself with talkers. He seeks out people with lots of opinions and the voice to tell you about them. Of the few friends he can claim and the family he has, the only common trait is being loud, verbose, or otherwise vocally meandering. He especially like to find people who's areas of interest are far removed from his, as his love of learning can attach itself to anything if heard of with enough passion.

Avoid

He hates people who are boastful or overly-proud and people who are insensitive or cruel needlessly. Contrary-wise, he avoids overly idealistic people as he finds them to be just as delusional as the opposite side. Outside of his father's partner and Uthyr, he stays away from most who claim strong religious ideals.

realizing how little i can answer these things without major spoilers lmao. crucius is certainly an enigma

i tag @xenascribbles @illarian-rambling @emrowene! do if you'd like!

[theblackbookofarkera]

Protomarus

The legend of Protomarus is a tale that has perplexed scholars and naturalists alike, a cosmic enigma that dates back to the earliest epochs of Arkera's history. Protomarus, often referred to as the Midnight Sun, was once revered as the original sun of Arkera, a celestial body of immense power and brilliance. It was said to illuminate the world with a light that was both nurturing and awe-inspiring, until a cataclysmic event led to its expulsion from the heavens.

As the myth goes, following the banishment of Protomarus, Aealio ascended to take its place, becoming the new sun that now bathes Arkera in its radiant glow. Sorcerers and mystics, who delve into the arcane and the hidden, have long spoken of Protomarus with a mix of reverence and fear. They have scoured ancient texts and unearthed references to this lost sun under various guises, suggesting that its influence spanned across many cultures and mythologies.

The disappearance of Protomarus is said to have occurred a few centuries after the Judgement, a pivotal moment in Arkera's history that reshaped the world and its inhabitants. The records from this tumultuous period are fragmented and shrouded in mystery, leading some to dismiss them as the misguided ramblings of a civilization struggling to make sense of the chaos that had befallen them.

Yet, there are those who believe that within these ancient accounts lies a kernel of truth, that the legend of Protomarus holds secrets yet to be uncovered. Could it be that the so-called savages of the post-cataclysmic era were not as ignorant as modern arrogance would have us believe? Perhaps their tales of the Midnight Sun are not mere myths but fragments of a forgotten reality, waiting to be pieced together by those daring enough to look beyond the veil of history.

[skylarmoon71]

Leonardo (TMNT2014/2016): Short Story- Chapter 2

"Meet me at the bridge, 9pm. You know the spot. Don’t be late.”

Leo slid the t-phone into his pocket, waiting patiently in the shadows of the bank, tucked slightly under the bridge. He understood why you picked this place. You had a clear advantage in the water.

But so did he.

He shifted on his feet, ready for anything.

Raph had thought he was delirious when he said he saw a mermaid. He honestly barely believed it himself. It seemed ridiculous. But he didn’t imagine that tale, or your impressive control of the water.

“So you are real.”

Leo flinched, and he didn’t even have a chance to react. Four rings of water appeared right before him. Two locked at his ankles and two more at his wrist. He grunted when his arms locked together at the front like a pair of handcuffs, and his legs felt like they were being held down by weights.

“I lowered my guard.”

He thought the fear you showed that night would make you at least a little cautious, but it seems we were more prepared than he was. Raph would probably laugh if he ever told him of this. You walked right up to him, and he just watched as the water from your clothing seemed to slowly slide off your body. In a matter of seconds you were as dry as him. When you are standing right in front of him, you study him.

“You’re a turtle..”

He didn’t even try to struggle. If he was going to convince you that he was not an enemy, he needed to cooperate. Because he knew for a fact that you were more of an ally. He’d seen you jump in after that woman. No hesitation.

“I am. I told you, I’m a mutant."

He wasn’t sure why, but your expression softened. As if you were now truly seeing him. All your hostility appeared to have vanished and he jolted when his bounds disappeared almost instantly. He pulled his hand apart from its forced position, glancing at you in question. He flexed his limbs as if checking and you just watched with a new kind of adoration in your eyes. Leo was completely confused by the complete u-turn.

“You’re so beautiful...”

You were so taken, and Leo was a bit unsure of how to proceed. His intention was to come and form an alliance. Now it might be easier than he thought because you’re looking at him the way Donnie watched cat videos.

“Wait a minute…”

It dawned on him that it might have something to do with the whole mermaid situation.

“I’m so sorry about what happened before. I had no idea. Usually I can differentiate sea creatures much easier, but you’re not like any of the others.”

You were now circling him as you rambled on.

“I guess that’s what you meant when you said it was a long story. This is incredible..”

Leo was having a hard time addressing the reason he’d asked to meet with you

“You’ve evolved. I’m sure that human intervention played a part. But you’re the same, yet more advanced.”

He finally took you by the shoulders to halt you, and you blinked, watching him attentively.

“I..we..we need to talk.”

You nod, waiting for him to speak. Leo pulled his hands away.

“This doesn’t scare you?”

He had to ask.

“I was a bit scared before, but you’re harmless.”

He wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or an insult. From the smile on your face, he decided it was the former.

“So it wasn’t an illusion, you really are a mermaid.”

You grin excitedly.

“That’s right. My name is (Y/N) (L/N). Future NYPD Detective, current full time student. I’m studying criminology. My goal in life is to help people. I want to make a difference. “

He wasn’t sure what to make of any of this. You had gone from an enigma to an open book.

“Why are you suddenly so chipper, just a second ago you seemed ready to execute me if I made a wrong move.”

“That’s before I knew you were a turtle. I love turtles! You’re so cute!!”

You were gushing. Every word that came out of your mouth was throwing him off.

Since the odds now were in his favor, he figured it was best to make the most of this alliance.

“I think the fact that we both have secrets that we rather not have exposed, we should form a truce.”

Leo held out his hand, and you took it without a second thought.

“Sounds good to me!”

Maybe he didn’t have anything to worry about after all.

[goldeneyedgirl]

TwiFicmas23 Day 7: Hybrid Jasper

Good evening! Tonight, we have something experimental. I was trying to put together a one-shot that focused on Jasper as a hybrid because I'm equal-opportunity with my nonsense.

It's still in parts, and I'm not sure that I've captured the vibes that I'm aiming for, but we persevere. I kind of love the idea of Jasper being the vulnerable one and Alice being the protective one and wanted to riff on that concept. Some of the 'rules' and world-building are a little iffy at the moment, but first drafts always need a little work.

Thank you to everyone who has read, liked, tagged, and messaged me. Those tags and messages absolutely make my day and I love every single one of them.

I'm off to sleep off this cold, in the hopes that I can recover fast enough to finish off a couple of planned entires <3

on the edge of dawn.

His past is knotted up in secrets and lies. 

And blood, he can’t forget that. 

(It starts and ends in rivers of blood, in so many lives worth of blood, that it would be disingenuous not to acknowledge it.) 

When he meets the eyes of the recruitment officer and tells him that he’s of-age, he’s not lying. He’s been a grown-ass man for a decade now; just because he’s sixteen in human terms is meaningless. He is more than capable of fighting a war. 

(He fights to protect the people that raised him, the cousins who were really his little sisters. He goes to war to make sure that he can send money home, enough to keep them fed and warm and safe. He doesn’t need much, and it’s nothing compared to what they gave him.) 

When he runs afoul of Maria, he expects it to be his death. One that is surprisingly appropriate considering his own origins. Instead, it is a fever that cooks him from the inside out, one that he stays lucid throughout, begging for answers, to explain what is happening for water, to know what has become of his poor horse. He sees a lot of people, strange people, that feel like they are all wrong but he doesn’t know why. 

He thinks of his little sisters, and hopes that they’ll be okay. He saved a lot of his pay, sent it home, so maybe they will. Maybe they won’t go hungry or get sick.

Maria is exceptionally intrigued by him. This man who doesn’t die, who rambles at her, begs her. And even when the fever ebbs, his eyes are still a piercing hazel. He still bleeds and sleeps and breathes. But he feeds on blood, he can move at least as fast as the slowest newborn, and has a gift that he almost effortlessly weaponising. 

He is a marvel, a miracle, a prize. 

So she keeps him, and Jasper is mostly reminded of stories about hell from the Bible. 

(He can never go home again.) 

—

Her visions have shown him since she awoke, but he’s always been very strange in them - like he’s made of smoke and memory, faded and halfway gone. She doesn’t understand it, and it scares her - that very first vision, where he tucks a flower behind her ear and says her name - is her north star, and her touchstone. She doesn’t know who she is without him, and the idea that he could disappear terrifies her to the bone. No one else does that in her visions, and she can’t work it out. 

Then she realises his eyes are hazel. Somehow she missed that little detail as she watched him fight and feed and rule Mexico in Maria’s name. They are such a beautiful shade, impossible for a vampire. 

And then she sees him sleeping, and it terrifies her that he is so vulnerable and unguarded in such a terrible place. She feels sick at it. 

He’s still an enigma, she still has questions, but it’s a clue. It’s something. It helps her shape and frame their future in her mind, knowing that he is not entirely the same as her. 

It makes her feel useful, and that’s a nice feeling. 

—

He remembers his mother a little too well. She had sharp hazel eyes and hair so light it was almost white. She’s already dead by then, washed out and still, and it’s a single frame in his memory. Something he should never be able to remember. But he does. 

(Jasper remembers her best when faced with the bodies. The ones who were taken as a meal, and the ones that don’t survive the change. Bloodless and broken in every way that counts. Her face is always clearest in his mind as he gathers up those dead people, and maybe he remembers his upbringing and says a quick prayer for them. But it doesn’t take long for those prayers to be meaningless mutterings under his breath, part of the routine without any of the meaning.) 

Sometimes he wonders what would have become of him in another life, with his mother perfectly dead. His grandmother had no love for him, not in those earliest days; a pious woman, she would have cast him out young if it hadn’t been for his mother’s brother. 

For a long time, he’s raised by his Uncle Jed. Jed looks at him and seems to see past all the things that shouldn’t be and the things that make him strange, right down to the lost boy he is. 

Jed gives him the family name - Whitlock - and puts him to work on the ranch. It’s a good life, and he likes working with animals, likes that the things that make him different make him useful on the ranch. He likes that he never has to see the old bitch of a grandmother that never let Jasper forget that he was the reason his momma was dead. 

(His momma named him. She picked the name out herself and started embroidering it on a blanket because she became too ill. That’s something he tucks in the back of his mind, that possibility that maybe she didn’t hate him, maybe she even loved him.)

Then Jed meets Gracie Wainwright and Jasper is terrified that he’ll have to leave; that being reclusive and unseen is the only way he can stay there, outside San Antonio. Jed doesn’t even let him go to church except at Christmas; for Jasper to grown up, he must be invisible and it’s the one family law they all obey. 

Except… Aunt Grace is his greatest champion, the mother he never had before. She is quick to teach him, bringing him books and teaching him his sums, how to sew on a button and darn a sock, and cook a hot meal - “Everyone needs to know these things Jasper, no matter where you go in life.”

And then there are the girls, he beloved cousin-sisters who climb over him and cling to him and are nothing but laughter and soft, kind things. Jed and Grace produce five of them, one after the other, all golden-eyed and blue-eyed and his favourite people in the world. Girls he would die for. 

So he does. He goes and signs up for the army because he’s been grown for years, because he’s faster and stronger and doesn’t need food or water. Disease never seems to touch him, and there’s little-to-no chance that they won’t have to leave the ranch. They’ll need to eat and travel, and his stipend will help with that. It’s the least he can do. 

(In her letters, Aunt Grace worries about him incessantly, tells him that Little Emma wanders around calling for him, not understanding that he’s not coming home any time soon; that his stipend has been useful in keeping them fed and well. Jed writes him and scolds him for running off and for sending them his money, but always ends his letters speaking of his pride in Jasper, and wishes to come home safely. Jasper’s always felt guilty he never made it back.)

Maria is oddly fascinated by the concept of his family, by how dearly he holds them, and how he still remembers them, still adores them. Vampire memories are supposed to decay; it’s considered a rebirth for a reason. He doesn’t know why his memories stay so vivid, but he treasures them. In the end, it’s easier and safer to stop mentioning them, to pretend the memories are starting to decay, so that Maria stops interrogating him, so that she thinks he’s finally behaving how he should. 

//

The first time Alice sees Jasper bleed, she nearly screams. It trickles into his eyes and he swears, and she’s frozen in a vision that she cannot escape from. He swipes it off his forehead and sucks on his fingers a moment to swipe over the shallow wound. 

And it’s sealed. Does he have a healing gift?

She doesn’t know. 

But the visions start showing her the things that are to come. The Cullens are still a possibility, but Jasper will be more skittish about joining them, about letting others know about what he is. About having to live with more vampires after South. He’s terrified of Carlisle on so many levels, and the idea of school goes against everything his uncle taught him. 

But she’s gratified that he seems happy when they’re together. That he sees something in her, the lost girl, that maybe he recognises. 

I love you Jasper, and I know that we’re going to be so happy together.

And she does. She loves that he can walk in the sunlight without notice, but he still hates doing it. She loves that he has no special talent for languages, but has still managed to learn Spanish and French fluently. That he’s never learnt to dance, but he’ll dance with her. That at some point she’s going to try to cook for him, and it’ll be a messy disaster and he’ll just laugh until there are tears in his eyes and tell her that he loves her for trying. 

Sometimes she wishes that she could share visions, pass them from her head to another’s because she wants to be able to save all of this for him, to show him that everything is going to be okay. Better than okay; perfect. 

//

Peter is a blessing in disguise. At first, he’s only there to make trouble, only there to test the boundaries and question authority. He hears Jasper’s sluggish heart, sees the way Maria watches over him, and decides that Jasper is the weak link, and he just needs to exert the right amount of pressure to break him. 

It goes about as well as expected, and something about the fact that Jasper is the one that returns Peter’s arm instead of throwing it on the pyre cements something between them. Loyalty, understanding, and a sense of fairness. 

Friendship and brotherhood comes in time. But that evening, as Jasper realigns the joint and explains to Peter that Maria has tried to rip off Jasper’s arm before but the joints are weird because he was already venomous before being bitten, that it didn’t work. Did fuck up his shoulder for a while though. 

Peter is fascinated. That he can be cut and bruised and broken, but they can’t do something as simple as tear him into pieces. That Jasper takes days to heal, and on the long sunny days they stay inside for, Jasper sleeps.

//

She finds him in Philadelphia and, oh, her heart breaks. In her well-loved dress and too-big shoes with the creases deep across the toes, she looks like a real lady compared to him. 

He’s outside in the alley, trying to convince himself to go inside. She’s seen it happen both ways, and that’s why she was late. To make sure that either way, he’s going to find her. She refuses to risk it any other way.

In the flesh, he’s a lot further gone than she expected. Enough that she discards her coat and her shoes as she enters the alley, moving quietly towards him. He’s so thin, and his hair is a tangled mess around his face, and he bares more than one bruise. His clothes are woeful, filthy and too thin for the cool weather. He’s not going to survive another winter like this. 

“Hello,” she says, and when he looks at her, his eyes almost pass as hazel, with the ring of fading red around the pupil. But he also looks hunted and haunted, like an animal backed into a corner. “I’ve been looking for you.”

She smiles at him, and he stares back for a moment before he relaxes a little. “I didn’t realise I had an appointment,” he manages, his voice cracking with disuse. He lets her get a little closer, looking at her bare feet, her green dress that has seen better days, the less-than-clean gloves, and the ribbon in her hair. Oh, and her purse. 

“That’s okay, because I’m here now,” she decides to brazen it out, and goes closer to sit beside him except he stops her.

“You’ll spoil your clothing,” he says, getting to his feet and he’s so very tall. He has to look down at her, and she feels very delicate and precious as he does so. 

“I have a lot of clothing to spoil,” she says honestly, and he still looks uncomfortable. “I’m Alice.”

“Hello Miss Alice.” He sounds uncertain but for her, it’s the most beautiful sound because it’s the very first time that she’s ever heard him speak her name out loud. 

—