#10/10 would hire as a guide

[rebouks]

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[waves lapping] Alex: [gasps] Hey, buddy! Awh.. I haven’t caught anything yet. Alex: And you brought your friends! Alex: No wonder you’re the stinky one-.. wait! I KNOW YOU!! Alex: Is that your girlfriend? Alex: Yeah, I do that too. Alex: Well, cleanliness is important… Alex: Ah, more birds. Alex: Take me to your house. Alex: Are we done digging yet? That’s a pretty big hole. Alex: Now you go fast-.. on SAND? Toulouse! Alex: LOU!

[elikajinnie]

The Frequency Of A Killer - S.J

P: Killer!Jake X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Suspense, Teasing, Murder, Attempted Murder, Stalking, Mind Games, Obsessive Behaviour kinda?

Wordcount: + 20k words

Synopsis: After moving to a small town as a horror talk show host, you uncover a deadly cover-up tied to a masked killer. As the bodies pile up, the killer becomes fixated on you. Can you unravel the truth?

a/n: her we go! another killer au but this time its not Heeseung or Ni-ki! We got Jake :) so this is inspired by my fave horror game; killer frequency - 1000% recommend.

---

You were used to the rush, the buzz, and the endless opportunities of the big city. The noise didn’t bother you. Networking came naturally, jobs were abundant, and you’d found your niche in the chaos: hosting a podcast about horror and true crime in a way that set your listeners on edge while keeping them hooked. Your show had skyrocketed to fame, and you’d connected with an entire community of enthusiasts who lived for the thrill, just like you. Life was good. Stable. Yours.

Until your company decided you weren’t “it” anymore.

The justification was laughable—“gender diversity,” they’d said. They wanted to swap you out for some guy, as if trading a seasoned, beloved host for an inexperienced one would make everything magically better. You weren’t buying it, but their minds were made up. No amount of protest or proof of your success could change their decision. And so, you left, refusing to stick around and watch them hand your hard work over to someone who didn’t earn it.

That’s how you found yourself in this small, sleepy town, working for a much smaller company that was trying its hand at podcasts. They hired you on the spot, practically drooling over your experience, and offered you a spot as the host of their horror and true crime segment. It was meant to be a temporary gig, a placeholder until—surely—your old company would come crawling back, begging for you to return.

But a month had passed. One whole, quiet month, and they hadn’t reached out. Not even a courtesy email.

At least this place wasn’t half bad. You had your own little booth, tucked away in the back of the building, with soundproof walls and just enough space to feel like your own world. The show was entirely yours to run—aside from the occasional ad spot they made you slip in—and you had free rein to do what you did best. Even the people weren’t bad.

Especially Beomgyu.

Beomgyu was technically your producer, though most of his job seemed to involve screening calls and chatting with you during breaks. He sat in the booth just across from yours, separated by a thin pane of glass, and had this habit of pulling faces at you whenever you got too serious. At first, you thought he was annoying—this twenty-something with a mop of messy hair and a perpetual smirk—but over time, he’d grown on you.

Tonight was no different. You leaned back in your chair, headphones snug over your ears as you wrapped up the last caller. A woman with a trembling voice had called in to share a local ghost story about the old mill at the edge of town, and you’d expertly guided her through the tale, adding just the right amount of suspense and curiosity to keep your listeners hooked.

When the call ended, you glanced over at Beomgyu through the glass. He was grinning, spinning lazily in his chair, and holding up a piece of paper with “9/10” scrawled on it in bold, black ink.

You rolled your eyes and flicked him off with a smirk. He just laughed, pointing to the mic to remind you you were still live.

“Alright,” you said smoothly, turning back to the soundboard. “That’s all the time we have for tonight. Thanks for tuning in, and as always—lock your doors, check under your bed, and don’t trust the shadows.”

The outro music played, and you switched off your mic with a satisfied sigh.

“Not bad,” Beomgyu teased as you stood up, stretching your arms. “But you totally rushed the ending on that last one. Where was the suspense?”

“Where was the suspense?” you echoed mockingly, grabbing a cup of coffee off the table and taking a sip. “How about I’m the professional, and you’re just the guy who answers phones?”

Beomgyu snorted. “Keep telling yourself that. One day, I’m gonna take over your job and show you how it’s really done.”

“Please,” you shot back, rolling your eyes. “You’d last five minutes before you started talking about aliens or some weird conspiracy theory.”

He grinned. “You know me so well.”

--

The night started off normal enough. You sat at the small desk in the break area, sipping on a lukewarm coffee Beomgyu had somehow convinced you to grab for him before realizing you needed one for yourself too. He lounged across from you, feet propped up on the edge of the table like he owned the place, spinning a pen between his fingers.

“So,” he started casually, tilting his head with that usual lopsided grin of his, “what’s it like being a big-shot city person stuck in our little backwater town?”

You snorted, shaking your head. “First of all, you act like I came here voluntarily. Second, backwater’s a little harsh, don’t you think?”

He shrugged. “I call it like I see it. You’ve been here a month and you still can’t hide the ‘get me out of here’ look on your face.”

“Maybe because I’m waiting for my old company to realize they made the worst mistake of their lives.”

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? And when they don’t? What’s Plan B?”

“Plan B?” you repeated, narrowing your eyes. “There’s no Plan B, because Plan A is going to work. They’ll come crawling back. Trust me.”

He clicked his tongue and gave you a doubtful look. “Sure, sure. But admit it—this place isn’t so bad. It’s quiet, no traffic, and the rent is dirt cheap. I bet your apartment here is, like, three times bigger than whatever shoebox you had back in the city.”

“Okay, yeah, I’ll give you that,” you admitted, leaning back in your chair. “The cost of living here is nice. And I don’t hate the peace and quiet. But the thing about big cities? There’s always something happening. People, events, opportunities. It’s like… the energy keeps you alive, you know?”

Beomgyu chuckled, twirling the pen like he was in some kind of drumline. “Sounds exhausting. You city people thrive on chaos. Meanwhile, out here, we’ve got… cows. And maybe a parade if you’re lucky.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not that bad here. I just… I’m not used to it yet.”

“Give it time,” he said, leaning forward like he was about to share a secret. “Pretty soon, you’ll be one of us. Walking slow, waving at strangers, knowing everyone’s business…”

You grimaced. “That sounds like my worst nightmare.”

Beomgyu laughed so hard he nearly knocked over his coffee. He was still grinning when he asked, “So what was it like, though? Your old job, I mean. The fancy podcast thing.”

For a moment, you hesitated. You could still remember it clearly—the studio, the buzz of the city outside, the adrenaline rush of knowing your audience was hanging on to your every word.

“It was…” you began, searching for the right word. “It was everything I wanted, for a while. I worked my way up, you know? Started small, built an audience, found my voice. It was a grind, but it was worth it.”

Beomgyu nodded, his expression more serious now. “So what went wrong?”

You sighed, tracing your finger along the rim of your cup. “They wanted to ‘freshen things up.’ Change the direction of the show. Apparently, a guy hosting would bring in a ‘different perspective.’”

“That’s bullshit,” Beomgyu said immediately, his brow furrowing.

“Yeah, well, tell that to them.” You shrugged, masking the sting with a bitter smile. “They thought it was a good idea. I didn’t.”

“Idiots,” Beomgyu muttered, shaking his head. “You’re way better at this than some random guy.”

“Thanks,” you said, a small smile creeping onto your face. “I’ll remind them of that when they come groveling.”

Then the clock on the wall chimed, reminding you it was time to start the show.

“Alright, back to work,” you said, standing up and stretching. “Don’t let me catch you slacking, Beomgyu.”

“Me? Slack? Never,” he replied, mock-offended as he followed you toward the booth.

The show started as usual—smooth, easy, familiar. The first few callers were locals sharing urban legends, strange encounters, and the occasional eerie coincidence. Beomgyu stayed in his booth across from you, laughing silently at your quips and holding up cards with goofy doodles to make you break character mid-recording.

But then, midway through the second hour, a call came through that made your stomach drop.

Beomgyu patched it through with his usual nonchalance, giving you a thumbs-up from the other side of the glass. “Line three,” he mouthed.

“Hello,” you said into the mic, your voice steady despite the sudden shift in the air. “You’re on the air. What’s your name, and what story do you have for us tonight?”

There was a long pause. Too long. Static crackled faintly on the other end.

Then, a voice you didn’t recognize—low, and far too calm—spoke.

“Do you ever wonder if someone’s watching you right now?”

Your heart skipped a beat. You forced a laugh, playing it off for your listeners. “Well, I guess I should hope so—otherwise, what’s the point of doing a live show?”

The voice didn’t laugh. “No,” it said. “I mean really watching you. Right now.”

Goosebumps rose on your arms. You glanced toward Beomgyu, who raised an eyebrow, clearly unsure where this was going.

“I think that’s a little too vague to count as a story,” you said, keeping your tone light. “Care to elaborate?”

The line went silent for a moment, then the voice spoke again, quieter this time.

“Check your window.”

Your blood ran cold. You turned instinctively to the window beside your booth. It was dark outside, the glass reflecting nothing but the dim glow of your equipment.

Nothing was there.

But the voice on the other end of the line chuckled softly, sending a chill down your spine.

“Gotcha,” it said, before the call abruptly disconnected.

Beomgyu’s voice crackled through your headphones, pulling you out of the eerie fog left by the last caller.

“That was… weird,” he said, leaning closer to his mic in the booth across from you. You could see his reflection in the glass, brow furrowed in confusion. “I mean, what window? We’re on the second floor. Unless there’s some really tall guy with a ladder out there, what the hell was that supposed to mean?”

A nervous laugh escaped you as you reached for your cup of water, trying to shake off the chill creeping up your spine. “Right? Probably some wannabe prank caller. People love to act spooky when they know they’re live.”

“Yeah, but that voice?” Beomgyu leaned back, tapping his fingers against his desk. “It didn’t sound like someone joking. It sounded… I don’t know. Off.”

“Let’s not overthink it,” you said, though you couldn’t deny the unease settling in your chest. “Weird calls are part of the job, right? It’s probably nothing.”

Beomgyu nodded slowly, but his usual playful grin didn’t return. His eyes flickered to the window behind you, then back to his desk as if trying to distract himself.

Before either of you could dwell on it further, the phone lit up again. Another call.

“Line two,” Beomgyu said, pressing the button to patch it through.

You straightened in your seat, slipping your headphones back on. “You’re on the air. What’s your name, and what story do you have for us tonight?”

This time, the voice on the other end was hurried, shaky, and unmistakably real.

“This is Officer Park from the Greenfield Police Department,” a woman said, her words tumbling out in a rush. “I—God, I don’t even know who else to call right now. I just got back to the station—was out getting donuts for the night shift—and when I walked in, I found…”

She stopped, her voice catching on a sob. Your stomach twisted.

“You found what?” you asked gently, exchanging a wide-eyed glance with Beomgyu through the glass.

“Two of the officers—two of my coworkers,” the woman stammered. “They’ve been stabbed. One of them… one of them’s already gone. The other one is still alive, barely. I called for backup, but closest units are at least five hours away, and I don’t know what to do.”

Beomgyu’s jaw dropped as he mouthed, Is this for real?

You swallowed hard, gripping the edge of your desk. “Okay, Officer Park, take a deep breath,” you said, your tone steady even though your heart was racing. “Are you somewhere safe right now?”

“Yes,” she said, her breath hitching. “I locked myself in the back office. But whoever did this—they could still be here. I didn’t see anyone when I came in, but… Oh, God, what if they’re still inside?”

You leaned closer to your mic, your voice low but firm. “Okay, listen to me. First, you did the right thing by calling for backup. Stay where you are, keep the door locked, and don’t make any noise. Do you have your weapon on you?”

“Yes,” she said quickly.

“Good,” you said. “And the officer who’s still alive—do you know if they’re in immediate danger? Can you hear or see them from where you are?”

“They’re out in the main lobby,” she replied, her voice trembling. “I can hear them—barely. They’re trying to say something, but I can’t make it out. I think they’re losing consciousness.”

Your pulse quickened as you considered the situation. This wasn’t just some urban legend or creepy caller—this was real, and someone’s life was on the line.

“Okay, Officer Park, here’s what we’re going to do,” you said, keeping your tone as calm as possible. “Do you have anything with you—first aid supplies, even a jacket—anything you can use to stabilize them if you go out there?”

“There’s a med kit in the office,” she said.

“Good. Grab it. But listen—only go out there if you’re sure it’s safe. Move quickly, quietly, and keep your weapon ready. Check the corners, and don’t let your guard down. If you hear or see anything suspicious, you come right back to the office and lock the door. Do you understand?”

There was a long pause. Then she whispered, “Okay. I’ll try.”

“Stay on the line with us,” you said, glancing at Beomgyu, who was already typing furiously on his laptop, probably trying to look up news reports or police scanner updates. “We’re not going anywhere.”

You could hear her moving, her breathing shaky but determined as she whispered, “I’m opening the door.”

Your own breath hitched as you listened to the faint creak of a door opening on her end.

“I don’t hear anything,” she said softly. “I’m stepping out now.”

The seconds dragged on like hours as you listened to her footsteps, the faint hum of fluorescent lights buzzing in the background.

“I see him,” she whispered. “He’s—oh, God, he’s bleeding so much. I’m going to try to stop it.”

You could hear her fumbling with the med kit, her voice barely audible as she muttered, “Stay with me, okay? Stay with me. Help is on the way.”

Your pulse pounded as Officer Park’s frantic movements came through the line. You forced yourself to keep your voice steady, trying to calm both her and yourself.

"Officer Park," you said firmly, leaning closer to the mic. "Listen to me. You need to arm yourself before doing anything else. Do you have access to any weapons right now?"

She hesitated for a moment, her breathing quick. "There’s a weapons locker in the office, but the keys are… they’re on one of the officers."

“Okay. You need to get those keys from the officer who…” You paused, forcing yourself to stay calm. “The officer who’s gone. You’ll need them if you’re going to get out of there alive. And when backup arrives, they’ll need you armed.”

“I already told you,” she whispered sharply. “Backup isn’t coming anytime soon. This is a small town. The nearest station is in the next county over—at least five hours away.”

The weight of her words settled like a stone in your chest. “Then you need to leave now,” you said. “You’ll have to meet them halfway, but you can’t just stay there. Take the surviving officer and get out of the station. Use the police cruiser. Are the keys to the car with the officers too?”

“Probably,” she said, voice shaking.

“Then get them,” you urged. “Check the pockets of the officer who…” You hesitated again, but there wasn’t time for gentleness. “Who’s already gone.”

There was a long pause, followed by a shaky exhale. “Okay,” she whispered. “I’ll do it.”

You could hear her moving again, her footsteps echoing faintly. Then, muffled rustling as she moved the officer’s body.

“I’ve got them,” she said after a moment, her voice tight. “The car keys. And…” She paused, the sound of a locker creaking open coming through the line. “Weapons. I’ve got pepper spray, a taser, and a baton. Which one should I take?”

You exchanged a glance with Beomgyu, who shrugged helplessly. “The taser,” you said decisively. “It’s your best option for close combat if the killer comes back. You’ll still have the element of surprise.”

“Alright,” she said, her voice steadier now. “I’m taking the taser. And the med kit. I’m going to try to move Officer Kim to the car.”

“Be careful,” you said, your voice soft but firm. “Check your surroundings constantly. Keep the taser in your hand. And whatever you do, stay quiet.”

You listened in tense silence as she dragged the injured officer toward the car, her breaths labored but determined. The sound of a car door opening reached your ears, followed by the faint groans of the wounded officer being carefully placed in the back seat.

“I’ve got him in the car,” Officer Park said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m about to start it.”

“Good,” you said. “Start it quietly and get out of there as fast as you can.”

But just as the engine sputtered to life, a haunting whistle cut through the air, sending a shiver down your spine. It was distant but unmistakable—low and drawn out, carrying an almost mocking tone.

“Oh, God,” she whispered, panic creeping back into her voice. “They’re here. The killer’s here.”

You leaned forward, gripping the edge of the desk. “Stay calm,” you said. “Lock the doors. Don’t move until you know it’s safe. If they come close, use the taser.”

Through the line, you heard faint footsteps and the sound of shouts—angry, guttural, and close. Then a scuffle broke out.

“They’re trying to break into the car!” Officer Park shouted, her voice shaking with fear and adrenaline.

“Use the taser!” you yelled. “Now!”

There was a loud crackling sound, followed by a strangled scream.

“It worked!” she cried out, her voice bursting with relief. “The taser worked! They’re down!”

A second later, the engine roared to life, and the sound of the car speeding away filled the line.

“Are you okay?” you asked breathlessly.

“I’m okay,” she said, her voice shaking but determined. “We’re leaving. I’m heading to the next town over to meet the backup units. It’s about five hours from here—less if I push it.”

“Good,” you said, exhaling slowly. “Just stay safe and focus on the road.”

“One more thing,” she added, her tone suddenly serious. “The emergency police line—it’s been rerouted to you. I couldn’t risk leaving the station unattended, so if anyone in town calls for help, it’ll go to your line instead.”

You froze, glancing at Beomgyu, who stared back at you with wide eyes.

“Wait,” you said, your stomach sinking. “What are we supposed to do if the killer targets someone else?”

“You’re going to have to help them,” she said grimly. “Until we can get backup to the town, you’re the only ones who can.”

The line went dead, leaving you and Beomgyu sitting in stunned silence, the weight of her words settling over you like a storm cloud.

“Uh… what the hell just happened?” Beomgyu finally said, his voice cracking slightly.

You didn’t answer, your mind racing as you stared at the blinking lights on the phone.

Somewhere out there, the killer was still on the loose. And now, the entire town was counting on you.

After a while the familiar ring of the phone jolted you from your thoughts, the sudden sound piercing the tense silence that had settled in the booth. Beomgyu’s voice crackled through your headphones.

“Line three,” he said.

You nodded to Beomgyu, signaling for him to patch it through.

“You’re on the air,” you said, adjusting your mic.

“I—oh, no, no, I think I called the wrong number,” a woman stammered, her voice trembling. “I was trying to call the police. There’s—there’s someone after me.”

Your heart sank as you exchanged a quick glance with Beomgyu through the glass. “You didn’t call the wrong number,” you explained quickly. “The emergency line is being rerouted to us temporarily. But you’re not alone—we’re here to help. Just tell us where you are and what’s happening.”

The woman hesitated for a moment, her breath audible over the line. “I just left the gym. I’m trying to get to my car, but there’s this… man. He’s following me. He has a knife, I’m sure of it.”

A faint whistle echoed in the background of the call, making the hairs on your arms stand on end. The woman gasped, her voice rising in panic.

“Oh, God,” she whispered. “I should’ve stayed home. Why didn’t I stay home?”

You leaned forward, gripping the edge of the desk tightly. “Listen to me,” you said, keeping your voice calm and steady despite the anxiety bubbling in your chest. “Don’t stop. Keep moving toward your car. You can do this.”

“I’m scared,” she admitted, her voice breaking.

“I know,” you said softly. “But you’re doing great. Just keep going. Focus on your breathing and keep moving. We’re not going anywhere—we’ve got you.”

The sound of her hurried footsteps came through the line, along with her ragged breathing.

“I see my car,” she said, relief creeping into her voice. “I’m almost there.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “Good. Get in and lock the doors immediately. Don’t worry about starting it until you’re inside and safe.”

A moment later, there was the faint sound of a car door opening and slamming shut.

“I made it,” she said, exhaling shakily. “I’m in.”

“Great job,” you said, feeling a small surge of relief. “Now start the car and drive somewhere safe—”

“Oh, no,” she interrupted, her voice rising in panic again. “No, no, no! I—I forgot my keys. They’re still in the gym!”

Your stomach dropped.

Beomgyu’s voice came through your headphones before you could respond. “Wait,” he said, leaning closer to his mic. “One guy—one who works here. I’ve seen him reading magazines about car maintenance in the breakroom. He might’ve had something about starting a car without keys.”

You blinked at him, hope flickering. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Beomgyu said. “I saw him reading one earlier this week.”

You muted the line to the woman briefly, turning back to Beomgyu. “Where did he leave it?”

“Probably in his office,” Beomgyu said with a shrug. “You’ll have to look for it.”

With a deep breath, you stood up. “Keep her talking. Keep her calm until I get back,” you said, pulling off your headphones.

Beomgyu gave you a thumbs up as you left the booth, closing the door behind you.

You made your way toward the offices, your footsteps echoing softly on the tiled floor. The darkened corridors seemed to stretch endlessly, but you finally reached the office. The door creaked as you pushed it open.

The room was cluttered, papers and other stuff scattered across the desks. You rifled through the mess, searching for the magazine Beomgyu had mentioned, but it was nowhere to be found.

Sighing, you were about to give up when a folded piece of paper caught your eye on the desk. Curious, you unfolded it.

Borrowed the car magazine for some light reading. Left it in the bathroom. -J

You frowned, squinting at the note. The bathroom? Of course.

Taking a deep breath, you headed toward the men’s bathroom, the unease in your chest growing with each step. Standing outside the door, you hesitated for a moment before pushing it open.

The air inside was still, the lights flickering slightly. You scanned the room, your eyes landing on the floor of one of the stalls. Sure enough, there it was—a magazine, its glossy cover faintly reflecting the dim light.

Bracing yourself, you stepped into the stall and grabbed it. Clutching the magazine, you made your way back to the booth as quickly as possible, the tension in your chest finally easing as the familiar glow of the studio came into view.

Sliding back into your seat, you slipped on your headphones. “Got it,” you said, flipping through the pages.

“About time,” Beomgyu muttered, relief in his voice. “She’s still in the car. Freaking out, but holding it together.”

“Alright,” you said, scanning the pages for anything useful. “Let’s get her out of there.”

You flipped quickly through the magazine, scanning each page for something useful. Beomgyu, still connected to the call, was murmuring reassurances to the woman, keeping her calm as best as he could. Finally, near the back of the magazine, you spotted a section titled: “How to Start a Car Without Keys—In Emergencies Only!”

Bingo.

You unmuted the call, speaking quickly. “Okay, I’ve got instructions here. It’s a little complicated, but we’re going to get you out of there. Are you ready to listen?”

“Y-yeah,” she stammered, her voice shaking. “Please, just tell me what to do.”

“Alright. First, do you see the steering column? You’ll need to take off the plastic cover underneath it.”

“The plastic cover?” she repeated, her voice filled with uncertainty.

“Yes. There should be a seam where it comes apart. Can you find it?”

There was a rustling sound, followed by a faint click. “I—I see it. I think I can pry it open.”

“Good. Use anything sharp—a nail file, a keychain, anything to pop it off,” you instructed.

A few tense seconds passed, the sound of fumbling and grunting filling the line.

“Got it!” she said suddenly. “It’s off.”

“Perfect. Now, you should see some wires underneath,” you continued, flipping the magazine around to get a better look at the diagram. “There will be three sets: power, ignition, and ground. Look for the ones connected to the ignition—they’re usually red and yellow. Do you see them?”

“Wait… yes, yes, I see them!” she said, her breathing slightly more controlled now.

“Okay, here’s the tricky part,” you said carefully. “You need to strip the ends of the ignition wires—just the plastic coating—so the metal is exposed. Do you have anything sharp, like a knife or scissors?”

“Uh… I have a nail file,” she said after a moment.

“That works. Carefully scrape the plastic off, but don’t cut the wires. Just expose the metal underneath. Take your time.”

The sound of her scraping at the wires filled the silence, and you exchanged a nervous glance with Beomgyu, who gave you a reassuring nod.

“Alright,” she said finally. “I’ve got the wires stripped. What now?”

“Good. Now you’re going to twist the exposed ends of the ignition wires together. That should create a spark to start the car. But be ready—the second it starts, drive away. Don’t wait around.”

“Okay,” she whispered. “I’m doing it now.”

There was a faint crackling sound, followed by a sputtering noise. Then, suddenly, the low rumble of an engine filled the line.

“It worked!” she cried, her voice breaking with relief. “It actually worked!”

“Great job!” you said, unable to stop the smile forming on your face. “Now get out of there. Drive somewhere safe—somewhere well-lit with other people around. Don’t stop until you’re absolutely sure you’re safe.”

You could hear the roar of the car accelerating, the relief in her voice evident as she spoke. “I’m driving now. Oh, my God, thank you. Thank you so much.”

“You’re doing great,” you said, your own voice shaking slightly from the adrenaline. “Just focus on the road. Call us back if anything happens, okay?”

“Okay. I will,” she said. “Thank you again. I—I think I might’ve been dead if it weren’t for you.”

“Just keep driving,” you said softly. “That’s all that matters now.”

The line clicked off, leaving you and Beomgyu alone in the booth. For a moment, the two of you sat in silence.

Beomgyu let out a low whistle. “I can’t believe that actually worked.”

“Me neither,” you admitted, tossing the magazine onto the desk. “But if it hadn’t… I don’t even want to think about it.”

Beomgyu leaned back in his chair, exhaling deeply. “So… what do we do if someone else calls?”

You didn’t have an answer, your thoughts already spiraling with what-ifs. All you could do was hope the rest of the night stayed quiet.

The phone rang again, its shrill tone cutting through the uneasy silence that had settled in the booth. You adjusted your mic and nodded to Beomgyu. He patched it through with a flick of a switch, signaling with his finger for you to go ahead.

“You’re on the air,” you said, your voice steady despite the lingering tension from the last call.

“Hey, yeah, uh, is this the emergency line?” a cheery voice on the other end asked.

“Yes, this is the emergency line. What’s your situation?” you asked, leaning forward, bracing yourself for whatever this might be.

“Well,” the man began, his tone casual, “I just wanted to let everyone know that Hanseung’s Pizza is open late tonight, and we’re offering a two-for-one deal on our large pepperoni pies!”

You froze, your hand gripping the edge of the desk. “Are you serious right now?”

“Totally serious! Best pizza in town!”

You groaned audibly and disconnected the call before the man could say another word. Leaning back in your chair, you rubbed your temples as Beomgyu snorted with laughter.

When you glanced at him through the glass, he made a circular gesture next to his temple, miming crazy.

“I swear,” you muttered, pulling your headphones off briefly, “this night is going to kill me.”

Beomgyu gave you a lopsided grin, but before he could say anything, the phone rang again.

“Here we go,” he said, flipping the switch to route the call to you.

You sighed, sliding your headphones back on. “You’re on the air,” you said cautiously.

“H-hello?” a man’s voice came through, low and shaky.

“This is the emergency line,” you said gently. “What’s going on?”

“I—I’m still at work,” the man said, his words trembling as he spoke. “I stayed late to finish up inventory, and I… I saw someone on the cameras. He’s outside. He’s wearing a white mask, and he’s holding a knife. He’s on the first floor now.”

Your heart sank as a chill ran down your spine. “Okay, stay calm,” you said quickly. “Where are you right now?”

“I’m on the second floor,” he said. “In the main office. But… but there’s nowhere to hide. The only room I can lock is the storage closet, and the lock is on the outside. What do I do?”

You frowned, running a hand through your hair as you exchanged a tense glance with Beomgyu. “Alright, listen to me. We’re going to figure this out. Let’s think through this carefully.”

“I don’t have much time,” the man whispered, panic rising in his voice. “He’s coming in. I can see him on the camera feed.”

You flipped through options in your mind, trying to think of anything that could give him a chance. The storage room could work, but locking it from the outside meant he’d be trapping himself unless…

“Wait,” you said suddenly. “Does your office phone system let you call internal lines? Like phones in other rooms?”

“Yes,” the man said quickly. “I can call any phone in the building from here.”

“Perfect,” you said, sitting up straighter. “Here’s the plan. We’re going to distract him. You’re going to call one of the phones on the first floor, and when it rings, he’ll go to investigate. Once he’s distracted, you’re going to quietly make your way down the back staircase and get out of the building. Got it?”

“Okay, okay,” the man said, his breathing quick and shallow. “I can do that. I think.”

“You can do this,” you said firmly. “Now, do you know which phone to call?”

“Yes,” he said. “The one by the front desk. It’s closest to where he is.”

“Good. Call it now,” you instructed. “Once it starts ringing, wait a few seconds to make sure he’s moving toward it. Then make your way out. Go as quietly as you can. Don’t hang up until you’re outside and safe, alright?”

“Okay,” he whispered.

There was a pause as you heard him pressing buttons on the phone. A few seconds later, the faint sound of a phone ringing echoed faintly through his line.

“He’s moving,” the man whispered. “I can see him on the camera. He’s going to the front desk.”

“Perfect,” you said, keeping your voice calm. “Now’s your chance. Go.”

The sound of his shaky breathing filled the line as he moved. You held your breath, listening intently as he made his way down the stairs.

“He’s still at the desk,” the man whispered. “I’m almost at the back door.”

“Keep going,” you urged. “You’re doing great.”

A faint creak came through the line, followed by a quiet click.

“I’m outside,” the man said, his voice trembling with relief. “I’m out.”

You exhaled, the tension in your chest loosening slightly. “Good. Get as far away from the building as you can. Get somewhere safe with other people around.”

“Thank you,” he said, his voice breaking. “Thank you so much.”

“Just stay safe,” you said softly. “That’s all that matters.”

The line disconnected, leaving you staring at the phone for a moment, your mind racing with the implications of what had just happened.

Beomgyu leaned back in his chair, letting out a low whistle. “That’s two lives saved tonight,” he said. “Not bad for a couple of radio hosts, huh?”

You gave him a shaky smile, but the thought lingering in your mind was anything but reassuring.

Whoever was out there wasn’t done yet.

The phone rang again. For a moment, you and Beomgyu exchanged wary glances through the glass between your booths. After everything tonight, you’d learned to expect the worst. With a deep breath, you answered.

“You’re on the air,” you said, trying to maintain your composure.

“Bravo,” a smooth, amused voice purred on the other end. “Really. I’m impressed.”

Your brow furrowed. “Excuse me?”

“The way you’ve been handling these calls tonight,” the man continued, his tone dripping with mock admiration. “Guiding these poor, helpless souls to safety. It’s been a pleasure to listen to. You’re very clever, you know that?”

Something about his voice set you on edge—it wasn’t rushed or panicked like the others you’d spoken to tonight. It was calm. Too calm.

“Who is this?” you asked, your voice tightening.

“Let’s just say I’m… someone who’s been keeping an eye on things,” he replied, his tone playful. “And I have to admit, you’ve made my night much more entertaining than I anticipated.”

Your stomach twisted as realization hit you like a punch to the gut. “It’s you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

A low chuckle came through the line, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “Took you long enough,” he said, his voice laced with mockery. “Yes, it’s me. The one you’ve been so desperately trying to outsmart all night. And I have to say, you’ve done quite well.”

You clenched your jaw, gripping the edge of the desk so tightly your knuckles turned white. “Why are you calling?”

“To see you squirm,” he teased. “And to thank you, of course. You’ve made this little game so much more fun than I thought it would be. Honestly, you’re much more entertaining than the usual people around here. They’re so… predictable.”

You refused to let him get under your skin, even as his voice sent an unbidden flush to your cheeks. You hated the way his words made your pulse quicken, a reaction you absolutely didn’t want to have.

“Is that all this is to you? A game?” you snapped, trying to focus on your anger rather than the unsettling heat rising in your face.

“Of course it’s a game,” he said smoothly. “But don’t misunderstand me—I’m not underestimating you. In fact, I think you’re the most interesting piece on the board. I wonder… how long can you keep this up? How long before I catch you slipping?”

Your cheeks burned, and you quickly forced yourself to focus. You couldn’t let him distract you with his taunting, no matter how strangely… confident and alluring his voice sounded. You hadn’t thought about dating or men since moving to the town—your life had been far too busy. And now here you were, getting flustered by the very man terrorizing the town.

“Do you have anything better to do than terrorize people?” you shot back, your voice sharper than you intended.

He chuckled again, low and lazy, like you’d just amused him. “You’re cute when you’re mad,” he said, and you nearly choked on your own breath.

“Excuse me?!”

“Oh, don’t get so defensive,” he said, clearly enjoying himself. “I’m just saying, it’s refreshing. I like a bit of fire in my conversations. The others? They just scream and cry. Boring. But not you. I like that.”

Your grip on the desk tightened further, your mind racing. You couldn’t let him get to you, but the way he spoke—like he was in complete control, like he knew exactly how to unnerve you—it was maddening.

“What do you want?” you asked finally, forcing your voice to stay calm.

“For now? Just to chat,” he said casually. “I thought you deserved some recognition for your efforts. And maybe a little warning…”

Your stomach churned. “A warning?”

“Mhm,” he murmured. “You’re clever, but don’t think you’re untouchable. I’ve been generous so far, letting you play the hero. But don’t get too comfortable. I’m always watching, and if you’re not careful, this little game of ours might get a whole lot more personal.”

Your heart hammered in your chest, but you refused to let your fear show. “Is that supposed to scare me?”

“No,” he said simply. “It’s supposed to excite you.”

The line went dead before you could respond, leaving you staring at the phone, your mind a chaotic mess of fear, anger, and, much to your dismay, something else you didn’t want to name.

Beomgyu’s voice crackled through your headset. “Uh… what the hell just happened?”

You turned to look at him, your face still flushed. “I think the killer just… flirted with me?”

Beomgyu blinked, his mouth falling open slightly before he shook his head. “This town is actually so messed up.”

You couldn’t help but agree.

The phone rang again, piercing through the tense silence that had settled in the booth. You and Beomgyu exchanged a glance, both of you bracing yourselves for whatever might come next. You adjusted your headphones and gestured for him to patch it through.

“You’re on the air,” you said, your voice steady despite the unease crawling up your spine.

“H-he’s coming,” a woman’s voice stammered, her tone high-pitched and frantic. “Oh God, the dead—they’ve risen! The dead are rising!”

You froze, caught off guard by the sheer hysteria in her voice. “Ma’am, I need you to take a deep breath and tell me what’s happening,” you said, keeping your tone calm and firm. “Who’s coming? What do you mean the dead are rising?”

“It’s karma,” she said, her words tumbling out in a panicked rush. “I’ve done bad things. So many bad things. And now he’s coming for me."

“Okay, I need you to slow down,” you urged, sitting forward in your chair. “Where are you right now? Are you safe?”

“I thought I was,” she whimpered, her voice breaking. “But he’s here. He’s come back. They know what I’ve done. He knows—”

The line went dead.

“Hello? Ma’am?” you said quickly, checking the call screen. You tried dialing the number back, your heart pounding, but the line just rang and rang before going to voicemail.

Beomgyu leaned forward in his booth, frowning as he studied the call log. “That was Dr. Lee,” he said, his voice low.

“Dr. Lee?” you asked, your mind racing.

“She’s one of the town’s doctors,” Beomgyu explained, crossing his arms. “Well… was a doctor. She retired a couple of years ago, but she still gets called in sometimes when the clinic’s short-staffed. People around here have… mixed feelings about her. Some say she’s a great doctor, but others think she’s shady. There’ve been rumors, but nothing ever proven.”

You sat back in your chair, your mind swirling with questions. “She kept saying ‘karma.’ And something about the dead coming for her.”

Beomgyu shrugged, though his expression was uneasy. “She sounded genuinely freaked out.”

“She did,” you muttered, staring at the dead call screen on your monitor. “And she didn’t give me anything to go on. No location, no details… I don’t even know if she’s still alive.”

Beomgyu leaned back in his chair, spinning a pen between his fingers. “Think we should call the clinic? Maybe someone there knows what’s going on.”

You shook your head, though the idea was tempting. “If she wanted their help, she would’ve called them instead of us. I think… I think whatever’s happening, she doesn’t trust anyone in town. Or maybe she thought calling the emergency line was her only option.”

“Well, what do we do now?” Beomgyu asked, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “There’s not much we can do. She didn’t give us enough information to help. All we can do is wait and see if she calls back.”

Beomgyu nodded reluctantly, though his frown deepened. “Still, the whole ‘dead are rising’ thing? Sounds like someone’s cracking under pressure. Or maybe she’s just paranoid.”

“Maybe,” you said, though her words kept echoing in your mind. The dead have risen. Karma is coming for me.

It sounded ridiculous, but the sheer terror in her voice had felt real. And in this town, you’d already learned to expect the unexpected.

You leaned back in your chair, staring as a heavy silence settled over the room. You hated this helpless feeling, this sense that something was happening just out of your reach. But until she called back—or someone else did—there was nothing you could do except wait.

And worry.

The phone rang again, and you didn’t hesitate to answer this time, though the tension from the earlier calls still lingered in the air like a bad omen.

“You’re on the air,” you said, trying to sound calm and professional, though the weight of the night was starting to press down on you.

“H-hello?” a young voice stammered. “Is this… is this the emergency line?”

“Yes, it is,” you replied quickly. “Who am I speaking to?”

“Hyein,” she answered, her voice trembling. “I—I need help. Someone’s after me and my friends.”

Your stomach dropped. “Where are you, Hyein? Are you somewhere safe?”

“We’re at… we’re at this old junkyard,” she said, her words tumbling out in a rush. “We were just hanging out, but now there’s this guy—he’s wearing a white mask, and—”

“Okay, Hyein, listen to me,” you interrupted, keeping your voice steady. “You need to find somewhere safe. Is there a place you can hide? A building, a car, anything?”

“Um, there’s a shed,” she said, her voice shaky. “But—”

Suddenly, a piercing scream erupted through the line, making your heart lurch.

“Hyein? Hyein, what’s happening?”

There was a muffled commotion on the other end, followed by… laughter?

A new voice chimed in, a boy’s voice, cracking as he burst into fits of giggles. “Oh my God, you should’ve seen your face, Hyein!”

“What the hell, Jansoon?!” Hyein shouted, her fear quickly replaced by anger. “You scared the crap out of me!”

You exhaled slowly, feeling your shoulders relax slightly. “Hyein, what’s going on?”

“It’s just Jansoon,” she said, her voice still shaking but now tinged with irritation. “He’s being an idiot, running around with a fake knife and a stupid mask. I thought—”

But before she could finish, another scream cut through the air—this one high-pitched and blood-curdling.

“Jansoon? Jansoon, stop messing around!” Hyein shouted, her voice rising in panic.

Then came the sound of something wet and grotesque—a sickening squelch, followed by the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the ground.

“Oh my God,” Hyein whispered, her voice trembling again. “Run! Everyone, run inside!”

“Hyein! Hyein, what’s happening?” you demanded, gripping the edge of the desk.

“A man,” she whispered, her breath hitching. “A man in a white mask—he just—he just killed Jansoon. He killed him!”

Your stomach churned as Beomgyu’s eyes went wide in the booth across from you.

“Hyein, listen to me,” you said quickly, trying to keep your voice steady. “You need to get somewhere safe. Stay with your friends and lock yourselves in. Keep the line open—”

“No,” she interrupted, her voice shaky but determined. “We… we’re setting up a plan. We’ll distract him so we can get away. I’ll call you back soon.”

“Hyein, wait—”

The line went dead.

You sat there for a moment, staring at the monitor as your heart hammered in your chest. Slowly, you took off your headset and set it down on the desk, letting out a shaky breath.

“Did that really just happen?” Beomgyu asked, his voice breaking the heavy silence.

“Yeah,” you muttered, leaning back in your chair. “It did.”

Beomgyu ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “This town is insane. First the doctor, now a group of kids in a junkyard? What’s next, a clown at a carnival?”

You couldn’t help but let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Don’t jinx it.”

He sighed, leaning back in his booth and staring at the ceiling. “This is so stressful. I mean, we’re just two people in a radio station. We’re not trained for this.”

“No, we’re not,” you agreed, rubbing your temples. “But we’re all these people have right now.”

Beomgyu nodded, though his expression was grim. “I just hope that girl and her friends make it out. That killer… he’s not messing around.”

The phone rang again, and this time, your heart jumped in anticipation. You quickly signaled to Beomgyu, who patched the call through.

“Hyein?” you asked urgently.

“It’s me,” she whispered, her voice trembling but steadier than before. “We—we’ve got a plan. We’re going to get out of here.”

You exhaled in relief but quickly focused. “Okay, what’s the plan?”

“There are four of us left,” she explained. “Minji’s going to watch him, make sure we know where he is at all times. Jaemin is going to distract him—make noise and lead him away from the van. Doyeon’s going to act as bait, keeping his attention long enough for me to grab Jansoon’s keys and get the van started.”

You felt a mix of pride and fear for these kids. “That’s… brave, Hyein. Really brave. Are you sure you can pull this off?”

“We don’t have a choice,” she replied, her voice tightening. “We can’t just wait for him to find us all. We have to do something.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding even though she couldn’t see you. “Stick to the plan. Be quick, be careful, and don’t hesitate. You can do this.”

“Thanks,” she whispered. “I’ll call you back once we’re out.”

The line disconnected, leaving you and Beomgyu in an anxious silence.

“They’re kids,” Beomgyu muttered, shaking his head. “They shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

“I know,” you said quietly, your eyes fixed on the monitor as if willing Hyein to call back with good news.

Minutes felt like hours as you waited, your mind racing with every worst-case scenario. Finally, the phone rang again.

“Hyein?” you answered quickly.

“We did it,” she said, her voice breathless but triumphant. “We did the plan. Minji kept an eye on him while Jaemin distracted him with a bunch of noise. He fell for it—totally chased after Jaemin. Then Doyeon lured him even further away, and I grabbed the keys.”

“That’s incredible,” you said, genuine admiration in your voice. “You’re all so brave.”

She let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, well, it’s not over yet. We got the van started, but there’s a problem. The doors to the junkyard—they’re stuck. Someone has to hold them open so we can drive through.”

Your heart sank. “Who’s going to do it?”

“I volunteered,” she said quietly.

“Hyein—”

“It’s fine,” she interrupted. “I’ll be fine. I’ll call you back.”

The line went dead again, and you sat frozen, a deep dread settling over you.

Beomgyu leaned forward, his expression tight with worry. “They better not leave her behind.”

You didn’t respond, too focused on the gnawing feeling in your gut.

When the phone rang again, you answered immediately.

“Hyein?”

“I’m still here,” she said, her voice shaking. “I got the doors open, but…”

You heard her inhale sharply, and your stomach dropped.

“But what?” you asked.

“He’s here,” she whispered. “He’s right in front of me.”

Your grip tightened on the desk. “Hyein, listen to me. Don’t run. Don’t make any sudden moves. Just—just stay calm.”

She let out a choked sob. “I don’t want to die.”

“You’re not going to die,” you said firmly, though your own voice trembled. “Just keep talking to me, okay? You’re doing great.”

There was a long silence on the other end, broken only by her quiet, panicked breaths.

“Hyein?”

“He’s…” Her voice was barely audible now. “He’s walking away.”

“What?” you asked, your mind reeling.

“He just… turned around and walked off. Into the forest.”

You blinked, trying to process what she was saying. “He left you? Just like that?”

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice filled with confusion and fear. “Why? Why would he do that?”

You didn’t have an answer. None of this made sense.

“I don’t know,” you admitted finally. “But you’re alive, Hyein. That’s what matters. Get to safety. Get back to your friends.”

“Okay,” she said softly, though her voice was still trembling. “Thank you.”

When the call ended, you sat back in your chair, your mind spinning.

“What the hell was that?” Beomgyu asked, breaking the silence.

“I don’t know,” you muttered, staring at the empty screen. “But I don’t think we’ve seen the last of him.”

The clock on the wall ticked steadily, and the tension in the room hung like a heavy fog. It was 3:17 a.m. when the phone rang again, the sharp sound cutting through the oppressive silence.

You leaned forward and answered, trying to keep the fatigue out of your voice. "You’re on the air."

For a moment, there was just static and the faint sound of someone breathing. Then a male voice, low and shaky, spoke.

"This is... this is so scary," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You straightened in your seat, your exhaustion replaced by unease. "What’s scary? Can you tell me where you are?"

"I’m at home," he said. "But I keep hearing things outside. Footsteps. Whistling. I’ve locked all the doors and windows, but it doesn’t feel like enough. This… this town isn’t supposed to be like this. It’s supposed to be quiet. Safe."

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. "I understand. It’s been a rough night for everyone, but you’ve done the right thing by securing your home. Stay inside. Stay quiet. Do you have anyone you can call to stay with you?"

"No," he muttered. "I live alone."

His voice broke slightly on the last word, and your chest tightened. "Okay. Listen to me. You’re not alone right now, all right? I’m here. If anything happens, you call me back immediately."

There was a long pause before he whispered, "Thanks."

Then the line went dead.

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. Beomgyu, who had been silently watching you from his booth, gave you a small nod of acknowledgment.

"You’re handling this like a pro," he said.

"I’m just trying to keep people calm," you replied, though the weight of the night was starting to press down on you.

The hours crawled by, the silence in the studio broken only by the occasional hum of equipment and the distant sound of a car passing on the street. It was around 4:30 a.m. when the phone rang again.

Your heart leapt as you quickly picked it up. "You’re on the air."

"It’s me," a familiar voice said.

"Hyein?" you asked, relief flooding your voice.

"Yeah," she said, and you could hear the exhaustion in her tone. "We made it. We’re home. All of us, safe. Thanks to you."

A smile tugged at your lips, the first genuine one of the night. "That’s great to hear, Hyein. I’m so glad you’re all okay."

"You… you really helped us," she continued, her voice soft. "I don’t think we would’ve made it without you. I mean, we were so scared, but you kept us focused. Gave us hope."

"That was all you," you replied. "You and your friends were brave. You came up with a plan and stuck to it. You saved yourselves."

There was a pause, and then she said, "Still… thank you."

"Of course," you said, your voice warm. "Now, get some rest. You’ve earned it."

"I will," she promised. "Goodnight… and be careful, okay? I don’t think this is over."

"Goodnight, Hyein," you said softly before the line went dead.

You set the phone down and leaned back in your chair, exhaling slowly. Beomgyu looked over at you, his expression a mix of relief and exhaustion.

"At least there’s some good news," he said.

"Yeah," you murmured, though Hyein’s parting words echoed in your mind.

I don’t think this is over.

And deep down, you knew she was right.

The phone rang again, cutting through the brief calm. Unknown caller. You knew who it was even before you answered.

"Let me guess," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "You’re calling to congratulate me on something, right?"

A soft, mocking chuckle came through the line, chilling and deliberate. "You’re starting to understand how this works," the killer said, his voice smooth, almost amused. "But no congratulations this time. Just a little... advice."

You gripped the phone tighter. "And what kind of advice would that be?"

"Dr. Lee," he drawled, his tone teasing. "She seemed... stressed earlier, didn’t she? Want to know what really happened to her?"

Your breath caught, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say.

He chuckled again. "Pick something up for me, and maybe I’ll give you a clue. Check the alleyway behind your building. I left you a little surprise."

Beomgyu immediately leaned toward his microphone, shaking his head vehemently as he heard the exchange. “Don’t do it,” he mouthed, his face pale.

But the killer wasn’t done. "Go on," he said, his tone turning low and taunting. "Be brave. Or stay in your booth and let the mystery eat away at you. Your choice."

And then the line went dead.

"Don’t even think about it," Beomgyu said, his voice cutting through the silence. "He’s baiting you. It’s a trap."

You turned to him, trying to muster some confidence. "If it’s a trap, then it’s a bad one. He wouldn’t tip his hand like this if he really wanted me dead."

"Or maybe that’s exactly what he wants you to think," Beomgyu countered. "Don’t go."

But you were already getting up. "I’ll be fine. Stay here and keep the phones running."

Beomgyu sighed, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “you’re insane.”

You left the booth, stepping into the hallway. The silence of the empty building was oppressive, and the faint hum of the fluorescent lights above did little to calm your nerves. Descending the staircase, each step felt louder than the last, echoing in the quiet.

At the bottom, you approached the glass front doors. Outside was nothing but darkness, the alleyway barely illuminated by a single flickering streetlamp in the distance.

You tried the door. Locked.

Frowning, you turned back and made your way behind the reception desk, where the backdoor led to the alleyway. Pushing it open, the cool night air hit you immediately, carrying with it the faint scent of rain and garbage.

The alley was narrow and lined with dumpsters, shadows stretching and shifting in the dim light. You hesitated, the weight of the situation settling on your shoulders.

Then, you saw it.

An old, stained mattress lay discarded against the wall, and on top of it was something that made your stomach drop—a bloodied ID card.

Your hands trembled as you approached, the name and face on the card coming into focus. Dr. Lee.

You bent down, your breath hitching as you picked it up. The blood was dry but unmistakable, the edges of the card sticky.

You turned it over in your hands, a cold dread creeping up your spine. What did this mean? Was she—

A rustling sound.

You froze, your heart hammering in your chest. Slowly, you looked up, scanning the alleyway. There was nothing.

But past the fence, just beyond the edge of the alley, you could feel it—someone was watching you.

The air seemed to thicken, your skin prickling with unease. You couldn’t see anyone, but the presence was unmistakable.

Swallowing hard, you clenched the ID card in your hand and straightened up, forcing your legs to move. You turned and walked back toward the door, refusing to look back, even as the sensation of being watched grew stronger.

You reached for the door handle, only to find it wouldn’t budge. Locked.

“Damn it,” you muttered under your breath, shaking the handle one more time as if sheer willpower could force it open. The sensation of being watched lingered, making the hairs on your neck stand on end.

The sound of something faintly rustling outside sent a jolt of panic through you. You turned away from the door, scanning the dimly lit alley for another option. That’s when your eyes landed on the basement access door.

You cursed under your breath, knowing it was your only choice. "Great," you mumbled sarcastically, stepping toward it. Pushing the creaky door open, you descended the narrow staircase. The air grew colder with each step, the faint smell of mildew and rust wrapping around you like a damp blanket.

At the bottom, you reached a landing, the dim glow of an old overhead light flickering ominously. Shadows danced across the walls, making everything feel smaller and more claustrophobic.

Trying the first door, you found it locked. So was the next. You kept moving, your footsteps echoing faintly in the eerie silence. Finally, you reached a door that opened easily.

You stepped inside cautiously, your phone flashlight illuminating what could only be described as the janitor’s office—or, more accurately, a forgotten relic of one. The room was cramped and chaotic, filled with old supplies, broken equipment, and… mannequins?

You froze for a moment, your light catching the lifeless forms of several mannequins standing in one corner. Their chipped paint and blank expressions made your stomach twist. Who keeps mannequins in a basement office?

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself, “this is officially creepy.”

Pushing past the eerie sight, your flashlight settled on the far wall, where a corkboard hung. You stepped closer, curiosity outweighing your unease.

The board was covered in newspaper clippings, photographs, and handwritten notes. Your pulse quickened as you scanned the array of items.

The photos were of people—townsfolk, by the looks of it. Some of the faces you recognized, including Dr. Lee. Others were strangers. Some pictures had red X’s drawn across them. Others were circled.

The clippings were just as unsettling. Headlines like “Local Man Disappears Without a Trace” and “Small-Town Tragedy: Young Man Found Dead” leapt out at you, along with handwritten notes like “Knew too much” and “Still watching.”

“Jesus,” you muttered, taking a step back.

You huffed, grabbing the corkboard from the wall and tucking it under your arm. Whatever this was, it wasn’t staying down here. You needed to get it upstairs, show Beomgyu, and figure out what the hell was going on.

The mannequins seemed closer than before as you turned to leave, but you tried to shake off the unease crawling up your spine.

"Don’t think about it," you muttered, stepping back out into the hallway.

With the corkboard in tow, you made your way back toward the stairs, trying not to think about how quiet everything felt.

Back in the booth, you placed the corkboard on the desk, your fingers trembling as you leaned over it. Beomgyu hovered behind you, peering at the chaotic arrangement of photos, clippings, and notes.

"Okay," you muttered, mostly to yourself. "This is a pattern. It has to be."

Your eyes scanned the board feverishly, focusing on the photos of the townsfolk. There were three with red X’s—you recognized two as victims you’d already heard about. The doctor’s photo, Dr. Lee, was circled in red but had no X, at least not yet.

The notes were cryptic but telling: "Knew too much." "Always works late."

Your heart skipped a beat as you landed on a photo of a man you vaguely recognized from a newspaper clipping you’d seen earlier—James Choi, the owner of the general store. His picture was circled too, with a note scribbled beside it: “Stays late, alone.”

You felt your stomach churn. “Beomgyu, who’s James Choi?”

Beomgyu squinted at the board. "James? Oh, he runs that little general store by the gas station. Nice guy, kind of quiet. Why?"

You jabbed your finger at his photo. “He’s next. Look at the notes. It’s all here—he works late, and the killer knows it. We need to call him now.”

Beomgyu grabbed the phone without hesitation, quickly dialing the number written on a post-it note you’d found pinned to the corner of the board. You paced nervously as the phone rang.

"Come on, pick up," Beomgyu muttered.

Finally, a voice answered. “Hello?”

“Mr. Choi?” Beomgyu asked, his voice tight. “This is from the late-night show—listen, we don’t have much time. Are you still at the store?”

James sounded confused. “Uh, yeah? Why? What’s this about?”

You leaned in, speaking quickly. “You’re in danger. You need to leave now. Grab your keys, get in your car, and just drive. Don’t ask questions, don’t wait—just go.”

There was a pause. “Danger? What are you talking about? This some kind of prank?”

“It’s not a prank,” you snapped, your voice rising in urgency. “There’s someone—”

The sound of something crashing interrupted James on the other end of the line, followed by a low, guttural noise that made your blood run cold.

“James?” Beomgyu called, his voice cracking. “James, what’s going on?”

The line went silent for a moment, the faint sound of labored breathing coming through. And then—

“Well, well,” came a familiar, taunting voice.

Your stomach dropped as the killer’s smooth, mocking tone filled the line. “You tried,” he said, almost lazily, like he had all the time in the world. “I’ll give you credit for that. But you’re just not fast enough, are you?”

Your hands clenched into fists. “You son of a—”

“Ah-ah,” the killer interrupted, a smirk evident in his voice. “No need for name-calling. I’m just doing what I do best. And you? Well, you’re doing what you do best—sitting in that little booth, thinking you can save people. How’s that working out for you so far?”

You swallowed hard, your throat tight. “Why are you doing this?”

He laughed, the sound cold and detached. “You really think I’m going to explain myself? What kind of killer would I be if I gave away all my secrets? Let’s just say… I like keeping you on your toes. It’s fun watching you try so hard.”

Beomgyu’s face was pale, his eyes wide as he stared at the phone. “You’re sick,” he muttered under his breath.

The killer ignored him. “Oh, and one more thing,” he said, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper. “The game’s far from over.”

And then the line went dead.

You stared at the phone, your heart pounding in your chest. Beomgyu looked at you, his face etched with fear.

“What do we do now?” he asked quietly.

You took a shaky breath, your mind racing. “We keep going. We figure this out.”

Beomgyu nodded, though his hands were trembling. "And what if we can’t?"

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

--

You sat hunched over the corkboard, piecing through the clues when Beomgyu cleared his throat, his voice hesitant. "Hey, maybe you should go back to the janitor’s room. There might be something we missed."

You glanced up at him, skeptical. “Like what? I already grabbed the corkboard.”

He shrugged, fidgeting with his pen. “I don’t know. It just feels like… that place might have more to it. There’s no way someone went through all the effort of pinning up all this stuff and didn’t leave more behind.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. He wasn’t wrong. “Fine,” you said, pushing back from the desk. “I’ll check again. Just… stay here and keep an ear on the phones.”

Beomgyu nodded quickly, relief evident on his face. “Be careful, okay?”

You didn’t bother replying as you headed back downstairs, retracing your steps. The basement was even creepier now, the flickering light above casting strange, shifting shadows along the walls. Pushing the janitor's office door open again, you stepped inside, the stale air immediately making your nose crinkle.

The mannequins were still there, standing motionless in the corner like silent sentinels. You forced yourself to ignore them, focusing instead on the cluttered room. You rummaged through drawers, boxes, and even under the dusty desk, finding nothing but old cleaning supplies and forgotten tools.

Just as you were about to give up, your fingers brushed against something cold and metallic under a pile of papers. You pulled it out—a key, small and rusted, with no label.

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself, standing up and looking around. “What do you open?”

You left the janitor’s office and started trying the key on every locked door in the hallway. It wasn’t until you reached the very last door—a heavy, steel one with a faded "Storage" sign on it—that the key finally turned.

The lock clicked, and the door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit storage room filled with shelves of old files, boxes, and equipment. You stepped inside, the smell of dust and mildew filling your nose.

Grabbing your phone for light, you began rifling through the shelves. Most of it seemed mundane—inventory lists, outdated maintenance logs, and other boring documents. But then you found a box marked “Incident Reports.”

You opened it, pulling out a stack of files. One in particular caught your eye—a report on someone named Sim Jaeyun.

You skimmed the pages, your brow furrowing as you read. According to the report, Sim Jaeyun was a young man who had been found dead in the town’s river. The official cause of death was ruled as reckless behavior, with high levels of alcohol detected in his blood.

But something didn’t add up.

You found another document tucked in the back of the file—a copy of the autopsy report, signed by none other than Dr. Lee. The details in the report were vague, almost suspiciously so. It noted the alcohol levels but didn’t mention any other significant findings.

Flipping through more of the file, you found a handwritten note from a police officer who had initially investigated the scene: “Something doesn’t feel right. Jaeyun was a good swimmer.”

Your stomach churned as you read on. The note went on to mention that Jaeyun had been arguing with someone at a local bar the night he died. The name of the person he argued with was blacked out, but whoever it was, they were never questioned.

Your mind reeled. Something about this was definitely off. Why would Dr. Lee sign off on such a suspicious autopsy? And why had no one followed up on the blacked-out name?

You gathered the files, clutching them tightly as you made your way back upstairs. Your thoughts were racing, pieces of the puzzle slowly starting to fit together.

Beomgyu looked up from his seat as you entered the booth, his eyes widening when he saw the stack of papers in your hands. “What did you find?”

You dropped the files on the desk, flipping them open. “A death report. Sim Jaeyun. Found in the river, officially ruled as reckless behavior and alcohol poisoning. But…”

“But what?” Beomgyu prompted, leaning closer.

You pointed to the autopsy report. “It doesn’t add up. Just alcohol levels that don’t make sense. And guess who signed the autopsy?”

Beomgyu’s eyes widened. “Dr. Lee?”

“Bingo,” you said grimly. “And there’s more—apparently, Jaeyun got into an argument with someone at a bar that night, but the name was blacked out in the report. Whoever it was, they were never questioned.”

Beomgyu leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “So, what are you saying? That Jaeyun didn’t just… fall into the river drunk?”

You nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Someone’s been covering this up. And I think it ties back to everything that’s happening now.”

Beomgyu stared at the files, his face pale. “This just keeps getting worse.”

You didn’t respond, your mind already racing with what to do next.

You tapped your pen against the desk anxiously, the silence between you and Beomgyu growing heavier by the second. Finally, you broke it. “We need to talk to someone who knew Jaeyun. Someone who can tell us more about what happened that night.”

Beomgyu nodded, already pulling up the town directory on his computer. “There were names listed in some of those files,” he muttered, scrolling through the screen. “Here—Kim Jihoon. He was one of Jaeyun’s friends.”

“Call him,” you said firmly, leaning forward.

Beomgyu hesitated for a second but then grabbed the phone, dialing the number. You both waited as the line rang, the sound stretching your nerves thin.

Finally, a groggy voice answered, “Hello? Who’s this?”

“Hi, this is Beomgyu from the town’s late-night talk show,” Beomgyu began cautiously. “We’re trying to get some information about Sim Jaeyun. You were listed as one of his friends. Do you have a moment to talk?”

There was a pause on the other end before Jihoon spoke again, his voice laced with confusion. “Jaeyun? Why are you asking about him? He’s been gone for years.”

You leaned toward the mic, speaking gently but urgently. “We’re trying to piece together what really happened to him, Jihoon. There are some things about his death that don’t make sense. Can you tell us what you remember from that night?”

Another long pause. Then Jihoon let out a sigh. “I don’t know how much help I’ll be, but… sure. I’ll tell you what I can.”

You exchanged a glance with Beomgyu, who nodded for you to continue. “Okay,” you said. “Start from the beginning. What was that night like?”

“It was supposed to be a fun night,” Jihoon began, his voice tinged with sadness. “We were celebrating Jaeyun. He’d just gotten a big promotion at work, and we all went out to the bar to party. Everything was fine at first—laughing, drinking, just having a good time. But then…”

He trailed off, and you prompted him gently. “But then what?”

Jihoon sighed again. “Jaeyun got into an argument with someone. I didn’t see who it was—I was across the bar at the time, talking to someone else. But I heard voices getting louder, and when I looked over, Jaeyun was face-to-face with this guy. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but it looked heated.”

Your grip on the pen tightened. “Did you see what the guy looked like at all? Anything about him?”

“No,” Jihoon admitted. “It was dark, and the bar was crowded. I only saw his back. But… I don’t know, there was something off about the guy. The way he was standing, the way he moved… it gave me a bad feeling.”

“What happened after that?” you asked.

“Jaeyun stormed out of the bar,” Jihoon said. “The guy followed him. I tried to go after them, but by the time I got outside, they were both gone. I looked around, called out for Jaeyun, but… nothing. It was like they’d disappeared.”

“And then?”

“The next day, I heard the news,” Jihoon said, his voice breaking slightly. “Jaeyun was found dead in the river. They said he’d been drinking and must’ve fallen in, but…”

“But you didn’t believe that,” you finished for him.

“No,” Jihoon said firmly. “Jaeyun wasn’t that kind of guy. He could hold his liquor, and he would’ve been careful. It didn’t make sense then, and it doesn’t make sense now.”

You sat back in your chair, your mind racing. Jaeyun had argued with someone—someone who followed him out of the bar. Someone who might have been responsible for his death.

Beomgyu’s voice cut through the static over the intercom, calm but clipped. “The other line’s ringing. I’ll take care of it.”

You nodded to yourself, still holding the phone to your ear. “Alright.”

Turning your attention back to Jihoon, you settled into your chair and tried to ground yourself.

“Jaeyun was just… he was the kind of guy everyone liked, you know? He always made time for people. Even when he was busy, he’d stop to check in. If you were upset about something, he’d notice—he always noticed.” Jihoon’s voice broke slightly, and you could hear him swallow hard.

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “He sounds like a really good person. Someone who didn’t deserve what happened.”

“No, he didn’t,” Jihoon agreed softly. “He’d do these little things, you know? Like, one time, I forgot my wallet, and he just covered everything without even saying anything. He didn’t want people to feel bad, didn’t want anyone to feel like a burden. That was just Jaeyun.”

You found yourself smiling faintly, despite the grim topic. “He must’ve been an amazing friend to have.”

“He was,” Jihoon said, his voice thick with emotion. “Losing him… it wasn’t just hard. It was—” He paused, and you could hear him take a deep breath. “It was like losing the glue that held us all together. He was the one who brought us all into the same orbit.”

Your chest tightened as you listened, the weight of Jihoon’s words pressing down on you. Jaeyun had been more than just a name on a file or a tragic story in the town’s history. He’d been a real person, someone loved deeply by those around him.

“I’m sorry, Jihoon,” you said softly. “I wish I could’ve met him. He sounds like he left a mark on everyone he knew.”

“He did,” Jihoon whispered. “And that’s what makes it so hard to believe… what they said about him, that he was drunk and reckless. That’s not him. It never felt right to me, even back then.”

You nodded, the puzzle pieces in your mind continuing to shift and rearrange themselves. “I understand. And I think you’re right to trust your gut. There’s more to this story, and I’m trying to piece it together.”

Jihoon let out a shaky laugh. “Thanks. I don’t know why you care so much—"

The lights in the booth flickered and then abruptly went out, plunging you into darkness. You froze, the silence suddenly suffocating.

A second later, Beomgyu’s voice came over the intercom, slightly muffled but urgent. “Uh… the power just went out in the whole building. I think you’ll need to go down to the basement and reset the breaker. I’d do it, but I’m kinda stuck here monitoring the calls.”

You clicked your flashlight on, its narrow beam cutting through the pitch-black room. “Got it,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Stay up here. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“I’ll keep an eye on everything,” Beomgyu promised, his voice a little shaky but resolute.

You stood up, your flashlight casting eerie shadows as you moved toward the booth door. The air felt colder now, heavier, as though the power outage had sucked the life out of the building.

Exiting the booth, you walked down the hall toward the staircase. Every creak of the floor beneath your feet made your stomach tighten.

The door to the basement was slightly ajar when you reached it, creaking as you pushed it open. You descended the stairs, each step echoing loudly in the stillness.

The basement smelled of damp concrete and old cardboard. The beam of your flashlight bounced across the walls, revealing cluttered shelves, dusty equipment, and the same door to the janitor's room you’d searched earlier.

Something felt... wrong.

You paused at the bottom of the stairs, your breath catching as the sensation of eyes on you. It was that prickling feeling, the kind that made the hairs on your neck stand up.

You swung the flashlight around again, the beam slicing through the shadows. Nothing. “Get it together,” you muttered under your breath.

Moving cautiously, you made your way to the breaker panel in the corner of the room. The metal door was slightly ajar, as though someone had been there recently. You frowned and reached out, pulling it open.

The switches were all flipped off. You began resetting them, flipping each one back to its original position. As the last switch clicked into place, you heard a faint sound behind you—a scuffling, like a shoe sliding against the concrete floor.

You froze.

“Hello?” you called out, your voice echoing in the stillness.

No response.

Your flashlight beam darted across the room again, settling on nothing but dusty shelves and discarded junk. The sensation of being watched was stronger than ever, the weight of unseen eyes boring into your back.

Swallowing hard, you gripped the flashlight tighter and turned back toward the stairs. “It’s just your imagination,” you told yourself. “Just nerves.”

But as you climbed the stairs, the creak of a floorboard behind you made your blood run cold. You spun around, flashlight trembling in your hand, but there was no one there.

Heart pounding, you hurried up the remaining steps and shoved the door open, stepping back into the main hall. The lights flickered back on, flooding the building with their harsh fluorescent glow.

You walked back toward the booths, your thoughts still caught on Jihoon’s words, and your pulse quickened when you noticed something strange—the door to Beomgyu’s booth was open. Beomgyu never left it open when he was working.

Curiosity and concern flared in equal measure as you stepped inside. “Beomgyu?” you called softly, but the booth was empty.

The faint smell of his cologne lingered in the air, but there was no sign of him. You frowned, glancing around, trying to spot anything out of place. The silence felt oppressive, thick, like the air itself was watching you.

Turning back toward the hallway, you froze.

A figure was walking toward you, their movements deliberate and slow, as if savoring every step. They were dressed in black, a pale white mask covering their face, and in their hand gleamed a knife.

Your heart leapt into your throat. Thinking fast, you slammed the door shut and locked it just as the figure lunged. The door rattled violently as they crashed into it, and you stumbled back, gasping, your chest heaving.

The sound of the knife scraping against the door sent shivers down your spine.

You turned, instinctively seeking safety, only to feel your stomach drop.

Someone was standing in your booth.

On the other side of the glass separating Beomgyu’s booth from yours, the killer stood, their white mask tilted ever so slightly as if they were studying you.

You stared in disbelief, your pulse pounding in your ears as the killer leaned casually against the glass. Slowly, they raised their knife and tapped the blade against the glass, the metallic tink tink tink reverberating in the confined space.

"Hey there," their distorted voice drawled, smug and taunting. “Miss me?”

You didn’t answer, too frozen by the weight of the moment.

They chuckled, the sound muffled but chilling. “C’mon, let’s make this interesting. Open the door for me. I just want to play.”

Your stomach churned, and you shook your head, your voice trembling but firm. “Where’s Beomgyu?”

The killer tilted their head, tapping the knife against the glass again. “Oh, he’s around,” they said, their tone lilting, as if they were enjoying a private joke.

Panic clawed at your insides. “What did you do to him?”

The killer leaned closer to the glass, the mask distorting their features into a sinister blur. “Why so worried? Shouldn’t you be more concerned about yourself?”

You clenched your fists, forcing yourself to hold their gaze despite the fear threatening to crush you. “What do you want?”

They leaned back slightly, tapping the glass once more, their knife dragging a slow, deliberate line down its surface. “For now? I just want to see how long you can last.”

The killer’s mask shifted slightly as he glanced toward your desk, his knife tapping idly against the glass again. “Well, well,” he said, his voice dripping with mock surprise. “You’ve been busy, haven’t you?”

You glanced at the desk, realizing he was looking at the scattered clues you’d been piecing together: the newspaper clippings, the notes, the photo of Jaeyun.

“What are you talking about?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady, though your hands were trembling at your sides.

The killer tilted his head, almost amused. “Don’t play dumb. You’ve been digging, haven’t you? Going through things you shouldn’t, asking questions. Connecting dots. You’re smarter than they gave you credit for.”

You clenched your fists, anger bubbling up beneath your fear. “Why are you doing this?” you demanded, your voice sharper now. “What’s the point of all this? Why terrorize the town? Why kill all these people?”

The killer let out a low, humorless laugh, the sound muffled behind his mask. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

You glared at him, heart pounding. “Then explain it. Make me understand.”

The killer stood straighter, the playful tilt of his head replaced with something colder, darker. His voice dropped, the teasing edge gone. “This isn’t random. This isn’t chaos for the sake of chaos. This is revenge.”

You froze. “Revenge? For what?”

“For Jaeyun,” he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “For what happened to him. For what they did to his life.”

Your breath caught, the weight of his words settling over you like a heavy blanket. “You’re doing all of this… because of Jaeyun?”

The killer nodded slowly. “He didn’t deserve what happened to him. He didn’t deserve to die the way he did. Alone. Cast aside. Written off as a reckless drunk when everyone knew that wasn’t who he was.”

You swallowed hard, the pieces clicking together in your mind. “You… you think someone in this town killed him. Don’t you?”

The killer laughed again, but this time it was bitter, full of venom. “Think? Oh, no. I don’t think. I know.”

Your pulse raced as you stared at him, trying to make sense of it all. “Then why target the town? Why not just go after the person responsible?”

The killer leaned closer to the glass, his voice low and menacing. “Because they all played a part. They turned a blind eye. They lied. They covered it up. And now? They’re going to pay.”

You shook your head, panic and disbelief swirling in your chest. “This isn’t justice. This is—this is insanity!”

“Call it whatever you want,” the killer said, stepping back slightly, his knife still glinting in his hand. “But by the time I’m done, everyone will know the truth. And Jaeyun will finally get the justice he deserves.”

You stared at him through the glass, trying to piece everything together. “What connects you to Jaeyun?” you asked, your voice shaking slightly. “Why are you doing this in his name? What was he to you?”

The killer chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating through the air like a warning. “Oh, come on,” he said, tilting his head mockingly. “You’ve been working so hard. And yet you haven’t figured it out?”

You frowned, frustration mounting. “Stop playing games and just tell me!”

Before you could say anything else, he suddenly stopped pacing, his hand reaching up to the edge of his mask. “You want answers?” he asked, his tone laced with something dangerous. “Then pay attention.”

Your heart thundered in your chest as his fingers gripped the mask. Slowly, he pulled it off, revealing the face underneath.

Your breath caught in your throat. “No,” you whispered, stumbling back a step. “That’s not possible…”

It was Jaeyun.

His face was unmistakable, though there was something different now—harsher. His features were gaunter, his eyes darker, filled with a cold fire that sent a chill down your spine.

“But—you’re dead,” you stammered, shaking your head in disbelief. “They said you were dead. I saw the reports.”

A grim smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Dead?” he echoed, his voice dripping with venom. “I was supposed to be. The man who killed me certainly thought I was.”

“Then how are you alive?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

He stepped closer to the glass, his expression hard. “Sheer will,” he said, his tone icy. “I wasn’t supposed to survive that night. But I did. Barely. They threw me in the river, thinking they’d silenced me for good. But they didn’t count on me crawling out, broken, bleeding, but alive.”

Your stomach churned as you processed his words. “Who did this to you?”

Jaeyun’s jaw clenched, and his eyes burned with rage. “The man who killed me is now the town’s mayor,” he spat, his voice thick with hatred. “That promotion was supposed to be mine. I earned it. But he couldn’t stand the idea of me taking what he thought was his. So he decided to remove the competition—permanently.”

Your breath hitched. “They covered it up,” you murmured, the realization hitting you like a punch to the gut.

“Of course they did,” Jaeyun sneered. “They spun a pretty little story. Made me out to be reckless, irresponsible. A drunk who couldn’t handle himself. And everyone believed it.”

“And no one knew you were alive?” you asked, your voice trembling.

He shook his head, his expression cold. “Not a soul. They all thought they were free of me. That their secret was safe.” He leaned closer to the glass, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. “But I’ve been watching. Waiting. And now, I’m back.”

You stared at him, your mind racing. “You’re doing all of this… to get revenge?”

Jaeyun smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “Revenge? Justice? Call it whatever you want. But this town took everything from me. My life. My future. And now, I’m going to take everything from them.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse pounding in your ears. “This isn’t justice, Jaeyun. This is—this is murder.”

“They murdered me first,” he snapped, his voice sharp as a blade. “They thought they could bury me and move on. But they were wrong. And now, they’re going to pay.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. All you could do was stare at the man in front of you—the man who had risen from the dead, consumed by a need for vengeance.

Jaeyun’s gaze stayed locked on yours, his lips curving into a sly smile. He leaned against the glass, tapping his knife against it rhythmically, the sound unnerving in the silence. “Come on,” he murmured, his tone low and coaxing. “Open the door. Let’s talk properly. Face to face.”

Jaeyun’s smile faltered, his eyes narrowing as you stood your ground. He straightened, stepping closer to the glass, and his voice dropped into a darker, more threatening tone. “You think you're safe in there?” He tapped the knife against the glass again, this time with more force, his breath coming faster as his frustration grew. “You really think you can stop me by just hiding?”

When you didn’t respond, he slammed his fist against the glass with a deafening crack. The force rattled the walls, sending a shiver down your spine. He glared at you, his chest heaving, rage and amusement mixed in his expression. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be. Open the damn door.”

You stiffened, gripping the edge of the desk in front of you as if it could anchor you. “Why would I do that?” you asked, your voice sharper than you felt. “So you can kill me too? No thanks.”

His smile didn’t falter, but his eyes glinted with something almost playful. “Kill you?” he said, feigning offense. “Why would I do that? You’re the only one who’s actually listened to me. The only one who’s tried to understand.”

“Forgive me if I don’t find that comforting,” you shot back, but your voice wavered slightly.

He tilted his head, the knife pausing mid-tap. “You’re scared,” he observed, his voice soft, almost gentle. “But you don’t have to be. I’m not your enemy.”

“Not my enemy?” you echoed, incredulous. “You’ve been terrorizing this town for days. You killed people, Jaeyun.”

“They deserved it,” he said flatly, the warmth in his tone vanishing. “Every single one of them was complicit. They lied. They covered it up. They let him get away with it.”

“And Beomgyu?” you demanded, anger rising in your chest. “What did he ever do to you?”

Jaeyun hesitated, his smile faltering for a fraction of a second. “Collateral damage,” he said eventually, his tone colder now. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

“You’re right,” you said, your voice firm despite the fear twisting in your gut. “I don’t. Because what you’re doing isn’t justice—it’s just more bloodshed.”

His expression darkened, but then he sighed, as if trying to calm himself. He stepped back from the glass slightly, sheathing the knife at his side. “You’re different,” he said after a moment, his tone soft again. “You’ve got a brain. You’ve been piecing this together all night. You know I’m not lying about what happened to me. So why not help me? Why not open the door and join me?”

You stared at him, stunned. “Join you?”

He nodded, his expression earnest. “You said it yourself—this isn’t justice. But maybe you could help me make it right. Maybe you could keep me… grounded.”

“You’re insane,” you whispered, shaking your head.

“Am I?” he countered, stepping closer to the glass again. “Or am I the only one who’s willing to do what it takes? Think about it—you’ve seen what this town is like. Corrupt, rotten to its core. You’ve been digging up its secrets all night. Do you really think anyone else is going to pay for what they’ve done?”

You hesitated, his words stirring something in you. The town was corrupt. The mayor had gotten away with murder. And Jaeyun… as twisted as his methods were, he wasn’t entirely wrong.

Seeing your hesitation, his smile returned, wider now. “That’s it,” he said softly, his voice almost soothing. “You’re starting to see it, aren’t you? This town doesn’t deserve your loyalty. They’ll betray you the first chance they get. But I won’t. You and me, we could fix this. Together.”

Your grip on the desk tightened, your knuckles white. “No,” you said finally, your voice shaking but resolute. “I’m not opening that door. I’m not like you.”

Jaeyun’s expression shifted, his smile fading. “Pity,” he murmured, his tone more disappointed than angry. “You would’ve made a good ally.”

He turned his back to you, walking toward the door to your booth. But before he left, he glanced over his shoulder, a dark smile curling his lips again. “I’ll be seeing you soon,” he said softly. “One way or another.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you trembling in the eerie silence of the room.

══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════

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[lightyaoigami]

☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ how to resume ⋆｡ﾟ☾｡⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎ ﾟ

after 10 years & 6 jobs in corporate america, i would like to share how to game the system. we all want the biggest payoff for the least amount of work, right?

know thine enemy: beating the robots

i see a lot of misinformation about how AI is used to scrape resumes. i can't speak for every company but most corporations use what is called applicant tracking software (ATS).

no respectable company is using chatgpt to sort applications. i don't know how you'd even write the prompt to get a consumer-facing product to do this. i guarantee that target, walmart, bank of america, whatever, they are all using B2B SaaS enterprise solutions. there is not one hiring manager plinking away at at a large language model.

ATS scans your resume in comparison to the job posting, parses which resumes contain key words, and presents the recruiter and/or hiring manager with resumes with a high "score." the goal of writing your resume is to get your "score" as high as possible.

but tumblr user lightyaoigami, how do i beat the robots?

great question, y/n. you will want to seek out an ATS resume checker. i have personally found success with jobscan, which is not free, but works extremely well. there is a free trial period, and other ATS scanners are in fact free. some of these tools are so sophisticated that they can actually help build your resume from scratch with your input. i wrote my own resume and used jobscan to compare it to the applications i was finishing.

do not use chatgpt to write your resume or cover letter. it is painfully obvious. here is a tutorial on how to use jobscan. for the zillionth time i do not work for jobscan nor am i a #jobscanpartner i am just a person who used this tool to land a job at a challenging time.

the resume checkers will tell you what words and/or phrases you need to shoehorn into your bullet points - i.e., if you are applying for a job that requires you to be a strong collaborator, the resume checker might suggest you include the phrase "cross-functional teams." you can easily re-word your bullets to include this with a little noodling.

don't i need a cover letter?

it depends on the job. after you have about 5 years of experience, i would say that they are largely unnecessary. while i was laid off, i applied to about 100 jobs in a three-month period (#blessed to have been hired quickly). i did not submit a cover letter for any of them, and i had a solid rate of phone screens/interviews after submission despite not having a cover letter. if you are absolutely required to write one, do not have chatgpt do it for you. use a guide from a human being who knows what they are talking about, like ask a manager or betterup.

but i don't even know where to start!

i know it's hard, but you have to have a bit of entrepreneurial spirit here. google duckduckgo is your friend. don't pull any bean soup what-about-me-isms. if you truly don't know where to start, look for an ATS-optimized resume template.

a word about neurodivergence and job applications

i, like many of you, am autistic. i am intimately familiar with how painful it is to expend limited energy on this demoralizing task only to have your "reward" be an equally, if not more so, demoralizing work experience. i don't have a lot of advice for this beyond craft your worksona like you're making a d&d character (or a fursona or a sim or an OC or whatever made up blorbo generator you personally enjoy).

and, remember, while a lot of office work is really uncomfortable and involves stuff like "talking in meetings" and "answering the phone," these things are not an inherent risk. discomfort is not tantamount to danger, and we all have to do uncomfortable things in order to thrive. there are a lot of ways to do this and there is no one-size-fits-all answer. not everyone can mask for extended periods, so be your own judge of what you can or can't do.

i like to think of work as a drag show where i perform this other personality in exchange for money. it is much easier to do this than to fight tooth and nail to be unmasked at work, which can be a risk to your livelihood and peace of mind. i don't think it's a good thing that we have to mask at work, but it's an important survival skill.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ good luck ⋆｡ﾟ☾｡⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎ ﾟ｡⋆

[cheriladycl01]

Kinktober 28/10/2024 Max Verstappen - RolePlay

Plot: It happened one Halloween, and escalated in Austin and now you guys are here…

Warnings: Kinktober, SMUT, blowjob, fingering, role play, dressing up, etc 18+ Minors DNI

It started on Halloween when you’d both dressed up for a party that was being hosted by Lando, Max’s fellow race car driver and friend.

You were dressed as Poison Ivy as you’d had your hair died red for quiet some time and Max as your male counterpart decided to go as Bat Man, you’d say in the bathroom with him doing his makeup, making sure to smudge under his eyes and get the look perfect before spending time on yours.

You for sure were the best dressed couple at the party and many photos were taken that night. Not just for the public where it went on your stories or as reels on other peoples accounts who were at the party, but many photos were taken by Max on his phone from above you while you laid on the bed in that red dress your boobs all pushed up and looking amazing.

He had fucked you in that dress that night while he wore his whole Batman getup.

Mask and all.

And yes immediately you’d both drunk way to much that night and both have individually pushed it away as a fluke.

However the next time was on a themed birthday party where it was Daniels birthday which he’d themed to cowboys. You’d been having a laugh all night putting on a Texas accent which wasn’t as hard for you as it was for Max. When you got home he was whispering sweet nothings in your ear in a southern belle accent.

You were incredibly sober and so very turned on by him in his little cowboy hat that by the time Austin rolled around you were a gonner and you guys did it again against better judgement in his driver room.

Safe to say Sergio had some complains in the next Red Bull debrief.

So it became a thing that you guys liked dressing up and being other people. You didn’t know why but you just sort of fell into a routine.

One day you’d waited in his drivers room after FP1 in what was supposed to be typical grid girl and Max was in his driver suit. He ended up eating you out while still in his drivers suit and you were done for.

Now tonight was your anniversary, and you wanted to do something special. You guys had done lots but one thing you’d never done was Massage Therapist and you thought tonight would be the perfect time. You hired out the whole spa in your apartment building asking for nobody to be there as Max had been stressed with the championship recently and decided it might be better to have a private evening to help him.

“Where are we going” he asks as you grab his hand guiding him to the lift.

“Downstairs, to the spa” you smile and he groans shaking his head.

“Mmmm noooo i don’t wanna talk to people today” he sighs pulling you hand back.

“I rented it out. So it’s just for us. Anniversary gift!” You smile rubbing his arm.

“Wait what? Omg babe, you must hate me” he says putting his hand on his head in exhaustion.

“You forgot?” You ask.

“I’m so sorry, I barley even knew what race I was flying to last week” he sighs pulling you into a hug.

“It’s okay baby, I understand but I have a treat for you tonight come on” you smile and he nods. You take him all the way down into the spa area.

“Okay, let’s get you relaxed love” you smile.

You spend the first part of the evening swimming in the pool, going into the jacuzzi, then mixing between the rain room, sauna and steam room.

“Don’t think I’ve ever spent this much time relaxing in like the last 10 years. It feels … nice” he smiles looking over at you as he wraps the towel around his waist.

“Okay, now time for the main attraction” you grin and get him to follow you to the massage area.

“Mmmm now, Mr Verstappen is it?” You ask is a husky voice. And immediately his head snaps up to you a grin on his face before he takes on his role.

“Mmmm yes, I heard your the best masseuse in Monaco” he says.

“Okay, if you’d get on the bed for me. I can start” you say and immediately he’s on the bed, laying with his face in the little hole.

You pull the towel off of him and run the sheet up to cover his bare ass. You hands guide up from his hips to his shoulder working lightly on any kinks you can feels.

“Fuck” he moans. You smile, working down his muscular arms.

“How is that Mr Verstappen, am I doing a good job?” You ask and he groans again.

“An amazing job” he says and humps against the bed, with another groan.

“Is there anywhere else you’d like me to massage?” You ask hoping you leading him down the right line of phrases.

“Well there is this one area that I’m sort of struggling with right now!” He says and you stand next to him looking at him.

He rolls over covering himself with the white sheets provided and underneath you can see the tent from his large dick hard and sticking up.

“Mmm is this the affected area?” He says grabbing it through the sheets, a moan coming from his mouth as he thrusts up.

“Y-yes” he whimpers.

“Mmmm a tricky area but I guess I can see what I can do” you say softly. Bending down to kiss it.

“Ohhhhh very tense, can I get a closer look at the area?” You say hand teasing just above the sheet waiting to pull it off of him.

“Yea, god yes please” he says and that’s all you need to pull the sheet down and kiss the tip of his dick. Your mouth encloses around it, the sound of your wet mouth sucking around his dick your tongue feeling every ridge and vein that had cropped up since he’d hardened.

“Fuck yes” he moans looking down at you. You weren’t fully on the bed however one leg was up on the bar holding the feet of it together and you were using it as leverage to get yourself a little higher.

“Mmmm I think we’re almost there” you say just before kitten licking his tip. Your hands come down to the parts that your mouth can’t reach and work in tandem with one another.

“One of the best clients I’ve ever had, making it so easy for me” you say and you can feel him twitch meaning he’s was going to cum. You don’t put you mouth back, having the perfect scenario.

You let him come after rushing your hands up and down his length causing his hips to buck up as he bites his lip with a moan.

He cums all over his stomach the white substance not moving off, just staying in a puddle.

“Hmmm your looking tense still, I’m just going to see if we have some oils” you say before walking out back to where you’d hidden the lingerie set. You pop it on with a doctor coat over the top and come back in.

You see Max physically gulp looking up at you.

“Hmmmm not many oils but maybe this will do?” You say dipping a finger into the cum tasting it. You lean down licking across his soft abs until it’s all gone and swallowed.

“Hmmm what a shame. Oils it is” you say pouring some oil across his stomach.

“This isn’t a great angle. Do you mind?” You offer a hand for you to jump up.

“Anything to get me more relaxed Doc” he smiles pushing so he’s leaning up on his elbows. You jump up onto the bed, kneeling either side of him. Surprised with how you can both fit.

You run your hands along his chest using the oil to make it all the more slippery.

“Doc, I think my fingers need a work out” he grins, wanting to also please you but not break character. You guys had actually gotten really good at the whole acting portion of the role play, no wonder they asked Max to do that Heineken commercial.

“Oh, hmmmm well I’ll get to those later unless you can find a way” you smile sill rubbing the oils all over. He runs a hand down your stomach, pulling the edge of your panties down slipping his hand in so his fingers tease the edge of your folds.

“Mr Verstappen this is highly unprofessional” you grin and he grins back.

“I think you’re enjoying this massage though Doc, and you want to help me right?” He asks and you nod.

“Of course I do” and he continues to move in and out ever so slowly. You behind to rock your hips against him until the table makes an uncomfortable creek that has you both pausing.

You whine at the lack of contact, but stop moving you hips and let your boyfriend do all the work. His fingers are perfect, a nice size and length that reach the perfect spot in you.

“Ohhhhh Mr Verstappen” you moan with your head thrown back, stopping the massage on his chest.

You tighten around his fingers, coming with some shakes that again make the table dangerously creek.

“I think you need to talk to your maintenance man about the stability of you tables doc. Maybe he can … Yano help you out” he grins to you and you already know he’s getting more ideas for more scenarios you can both do in the future.

“Mmmm I think you’re right. You’re very good Mr Verstappen I’ll have to book you in again” you let out a relaxed sigh.

Safe to say the massage room want the only place you guys were intimate for the rest of the night. Jokes being thrown around after that if Lando ever went into that steam room when Max was there he’d tell him everything he done to you in that room. And the pool, and the sauna, and the rain room. As both a massager and you.

It was a very … busy night for you both.

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[akixa]

Throughout || GunxF!Reader

At this point I'm just writing what I just dream...

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄, ⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂

⊹₊꒷︶꒷꒦‧₊˚⊹⊹₊꒷︶꒷꒦‧₊˚⊹⊹₊꒷︶꒷꒦‧₊˚⊹⊹₊꒷︶꒷꒦‧₊˚⊹

As the wife of Yamazaki Yuzuru, the heir of the powerful Yamazaki Syndicate in Japan, you are also known as the White Ghost. The news of your marriage to Gun Park came as a shock to many, as there was no prior announcement of the wedding, leading to speculation and surprise within your social circle.

Your relationship with Gun dates back to your childhood, as you both have known each other since the age of 10. Despite being the same age, Gun exudes a sense of maturity, and the strong bond between you has only grown over the years. He has always been a constant presence, following you wherever you go, and at school, the two of you are inseparable. While others may view you as mere classmates casually discussing homework and projects, in private, Gun demonstrates his affection by gently patting your cheek, kissing you on the forehead, and secretly placing a small flower on your bag.

As you settled into the rhythm of high school, you never expected to encounter Gun again, especially since he attended a different school and lived further away. However, one day, as you sat in your classroom, Gun casually strolled in with a vibrant bouquet of your favourite flowers in hand. Placing it delicately on your desk, he swiftly made his exit, leaving a faint blush lingering on his cheeks unnoticed by you as you marvelled at the beautiful blooms.

As time drifted by, you found yourself perched on the school rooftop engaged in deep conversation with Gun. During this exchange, he unexpectedly broached the subject of accompanying him to Korea, as he had been presented with a job opportunity there. After careful consideration, you concluded that you were committed to completing your college education in Japan, where you were already in your third year, and would soon be graduating. Beside you, Gun nodded in understanding as you pondered the potential outcome of his departure for Korea. Uncertain about how you would fare without him, an unsettling feeling nestled deep in your thoughts.

As you were lost in thought, he suddenly noticed a frown forming on your face. Worried that he might have upset you with his question, he gently reached out and softly brushed his fingers against your cheek, guiding your gaze to meet his. Cupping your face tenderly, he proceeded to caress your cheek with gentle affection. You were looking into each other's gaze.

“Once you go to Korea, will you come back to visit here?”

“Of course.”

He holds you so gently in that moment, forgetting everything except the moment you feel a soft touch on your lips, feeling your heart melodies match with Gun’s heartbeat as you slowly close your eyes and feel the embrace of each other.

As you strolled down the dimly lit hallway, the rhythmic tap of your footsteps reverberated off the walls. It had been five long years since you had lost touch with Gun. Upon completing your studies, you made a life-altering decision to venture to Korea in search of him. Stepping foot in a new country was an overwhelming experience, and it was filled with a mix of excitement and trepidation. Despite exchanging letters for a year, Gun remained silent, never acknowledging any of your heartfelt attempts to reconnect.

Currently, you are walking through the hallway of the HNH company, searching for a meeting room for a gathering of distinguished members. Due to your expertise in the field of marketing, Charles Choi hired you to make a favorable impression, and you have been working for him for a month.

As you arrive at the meeting, you already see Charles Choi sitting while typing on his laptop, next to him is his daughter Crystal doing something on her phone; and next to her is a pink-haired guy. You last heard that guy is a famous Korean idol. Lastly, on the other side of the table is a blonde guy talking to a pink guy who's not interested in the topic.

Upon your arrival, a blonde guy notices you entering the room, and in the blink of your eyes, he suddenly appears in front of you.

“Well, hello there, sugarplum. I'm Goo Kim, and it is a very pleasure to meet a beautiful lady.” Goo grabs your right hand and kisses behind it, making a smooch sound.

You look at him unimpressed and slightly disgusted, but you forcefully put a fake smile on your face and introduce yourself to him.

“Hello, I'm (name); it's nice to meet you too.” Smiling at him, you quickly retreat your hand and wipe the kiss away. Goo tries to take a closer look at your face, making you step backwards to bump into someone behind you.

You feel a soft hand touch on your shoulder, pulling you closer to them.

“Your bad breath will suffocate her, Goo. Back away.” A deep voice came out of nowhere. You look behind to see a black-haired guy with sunglasses on with scars between his eyes. You feel possessive toward this guy. How intriguing this is.

As you keep looking at him bickering with Goo. You took a chance to look underneath the sunglasses and noticed a UI eye was already looking down at you. Surprisingly, you only know one person who has black eyes and white pupils and is a Gun.

A cough from Charles signals you three to take a seat and start the meeting now.

After a meeting, everybody left the meeting room except you, and the sunglasses guy filled up the silence between you two. Your eyes widen as you look at the guy in front of you now, back pressed on your chair, a large hand gripping your shoulder, not too harsh to create a bruise.

“Thought I will never see you, Gun.”

Gun removes his sunglasses, showing off his UI eyes. Looking down at your small figure.

“You… Why are you here? ”

“What else? I'm also here to work.”

“Work here? If I were you, I would leave this place already for safety reasons.”

“Then why wouldn't you? And why are you not sending letters anymore? Don't you want me anymore..?”. You look at him with teary eyes. Feeling unpleasant through your chest when you see Gun's irritated face.

He let out a deep sigh and tenderly brushed away the tears that trickled down your cheeks. In that moment, his gentle touch made you feel as though you were being enveloped by the same warmth and care as you did many years ago.

“Believe me or not, but I did send you letters back. You are the one who didn't send it back to me.”

“What do you mean? I didn't get any… Don't play with me, Gun; you know I hate games.”

“I'm not joking.”

“Then how come you didn't visit me? You said you would...“

“I did, but work caught me and is your safety too. If I visit you, the enemies of mine will come at you and take you away from me. I was glad to know your position is safe, but the place you are working at is in danger.”

“Oh,...” As you looked down, a pang of guilt washed over you as you found yourself questioning Gun's true feelings for you. However, as you gazed back into his eyes, you were met with a warmth, adoration, and unmistakable love that instantly dispelled your doubt. The guilt in your chest gave way to a fluttering feeling of excitement and hope as your mind wandered, envisioning a future filled with happiness and love shared between the two of you.

He gave you a small smile as he leaned down to kiss you on your forehead before leaving the room all by yourself, a blushing mess.

“See you tonight, sweetheart.”

And that night in Gun’s apartment is the best moment together with him, tangled around on the bed, lips crashing together, exploring bodies, and whispering about how you two miss each other. Another year with him again.

As the years passed, both of you still worked for the same company. But Gun is busier than you being the bodyguard for Charles and his daughter and finding a next successor for him. The only time you two can see each other is at night at home, and on his day off, he sometimes spares time for you to get smooches, dates, cuddles, or anything in the short time with him.

When Gun received the news of your retirement, he rushed to his apartment to discuss the matter with you. However, he was left speechless when you revealed that you were pregnant. In a moment of shock, he stood still, unable to find the right words. You gently tried to get his attention, but then he slowly embraced you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close to his chest. He held you with tenderness and affection, expressing his emotions wordlessly.

He is completely open to the idea of starting a family with you. In fact, he was overjoyed to embrace fatherhood and is now contemplating proposing to you at an earlier time, envisioning a little version of you both happily playing around the house. Speaking of homes, he even expressed interest in adding a larger, more luxurious residence to the list of potential purchases.

In this new spacious house, you find yourself cradling your daughter as she peacefully sleeps on your lap while you immerse yourself in the pages of a captivating book. Surprisingly, your daughter bears an uncanny resemblance to Gun, except for her eyes, which mirror your own as you gaze at Gun with affection. It's truly heartwarming and endearing.

Behind you, you hear footsteps approaching you. Gun see and your daughter having a comfortable time. You gesture at him to keep quiet, pointing at your daughter, who is still sleeping on your lap. He quietly made his way to you, kissing you on your forehead and his hand caressing your daughter's cheeks, sleeping figure.

"Her cheeks are plum."

"You mean she's cute."

"She is. She seems tired. What did she do all day?"

"Running around here and there." You let out exhausted sighs, making Gun chuckle at his daughter's behavior. Admiring you and the life you both created together. He glimpse at your ring finger the small diamond on the middle shining brightly reminding him that you are his wife and no one else.

“Tell Goo to stop stealing our daughter to sell drugs.”

“Will do.”

He kiss your forehead as you three proceed your evening together cuddling.

Ꮺ .

[taro-pdf]

Humans are Deathworlders, but they can be Friends, too.

Context: the main alien is Feja, xe/xer ae/aer, an adult 4th gender tuscia (bipedal beings that communicate mainly through frequencies higher than humans do. Theyhave 5 sexes and 5 main societal gender roles)

Feja didn’t get along well with aer crewmates. It was always hard to communicate cross-species, and even harder when most of them were humans and couldn’t hear you. That’s why, when they stopped to pick up a group of even more humans in the Acrux solar system, Feja wasn’t exactly excited.

The humans’ voices were low, loud, rumbles in as they boarded, speaking of things Feja didn’t know about and couldn’t share. But ae had to do aer job, which involved initiating a small group of new humans who would share the same sort of tasks as aer. Not that ae wanted to share tasks with beings who drank poison for fun and kept predators as pets, but aer job was aer job.

“Hello, welcome to the Yenna,” ae paused, allowing a few seconds for the translator to work. It was always so awkward to wait. And sometimes older translators wouldn’t pick up aer voice correctly at all. “My name is Feja, ae/aer, tuscia, and I will be orienting you to your roles and responsibilities. You should have already received a brief. If you have any questions about that, please let me know.”

One of the humans’ mouths let out a few rumbles, followed by Feja’s translator repeating their words to aer, “Are their Uni-10 translators provided? I missed some of what you said.” 

Feja smiled and the human’s eyebrows scrunched. From previous experience, ae knew that it was confused, probably not used to tuscia body language. Feja let out a small hiss, but replied, “We don’t provide translators, but if communication is an issue, I can transfer you to a different group.” 

A pause, a low rumble, and then, “I think that’d be best. Thanks for being flexible!” 

The other humans in Feja’s group had better translators, and ae was able to finish aer initiation protocol with few issues. Slightly exhausted, ae started to walk back to aer room. Why did ae ever sign up for this? Why didn’t ae apply to somewhere where beings could actually converse with aer without a translator? And why, oh why did ae have to work with so many deathworlders?

Turning into a narrow corridor, Feja saw a human, looking at a number on their watch, then the signs next to each door, apparently trying to find a match. Their long white hair was plaited and reached their waist, and they were wearing a blue tunic that contrasted with their tan skin. It was too narrow to slip past, so Feja clacked aer mouth—a sound that ae knew humans could hear—but the human didn’t turn. Instead, they tried to open another door that also didn’t open, evidently not theirs . Feja clacked louder, to no response. As the human tried the next door, ae got rudely close and clacked once more. The human jumped, then turned and waved. Lucky not angrily— humans could take Feja down in a second. They looked down to their watch and started typing something.

Hey! I’m Kell, they/them, human, and new on board the Yenna, but not a traveler. The text was transmitted directly to Feja’s watch, and ae was surprised to see it was in universal language, not a human one that would have needed further translation. I’ve been hired as a tech assistant, so I should get my own room, but my initiation guide didn’t tell me where it was, and I’m having trouble with these numbers. Does the ship use a different language?

Not an uncommon problem for those first on board. Why didn’t their initiator tell them that?

“Most written text on the signs is in the captain’s birth tongue,” Feja explained. Kell tapped their glasses and captions scrolled across their screen as they looked at aer. “It’s Suav, and probably not in your translator’s database. You can add it, or you could use Anglu, which is close enough that it picks up most things.”

Kell nodded and switched their watch to Anglu, then translated a plaque on the wall. Seeing the results, they hit their forehead with their fist, thumb out. Feja startled, neck ruff raised.

“Are you alright?” Ae asked, cocking aer head. Even with how durable humans were, most of them didn’t hit themselves. Faja’s words scrolled across Kell’s glasses, then they laughed. 

I’m fine. That was sign language; I was calling myself stupid because I’m about 100 doors and a floor away. They looked up and chuckled.

“Sign language? Like the Ruq’?”

Yeah, though the Ruq’ never evolved ears. Mine just don’t work, I’m what humans call Deaf. I grew up with signs.

“So you sign to your fellow humans?”

Ha! Kell raised a lip—a sign of a negative emotion, though Faja wasn’t sure which one. I wish. I’ve only met a few who know any, and then usually not the same one I use. I text to talk to most beings. That’s why I’m in tech and not navigation.

“But you use the Universal Interplanetary Language, not Human, and that’s quite a feat of learning. Surely you had a choice in your occupation, especially considering how you’re a human…” Feja shifted on aer feet. The human-other ratio on board Yenna was unusually high, but that was because they specialized in human transport. Humans easily got jobs as medics, security, or anything else, especially as almost every intergalaxy ship had at least one. But most beings didn’t want to so much as be near the same fleet with so many of such a volatile species. Humans were known for their adaptability, cunning, and ferocity after all. 

When you can’t communicate with most people, you have to do what makes it easiest, and for me that was making sure to limit translation times as much as possible. 

Feja winced at aer own thoughts of Kell’s possible violent nature. Ae looked down at aer messages, a wall of one-way texts, and winced again. Ae typed back, that’s my reason for learning UPL, too. Receiving the text, Kell’s eyes widened. 

You stopped speaking? My translator can write your words out for me.

Feja smiled. It didn’t seem fair. We can keep a record of what I say, too.

 Thanks. Kell blinked and shook their head. That’s not something I even thought of.

I know what it’s like when it’s more work to communicate. The humans tend to avoid me. Faja recalled the human who requested a new group earlier that day.

Me too. Kell had a look on their face that Feja felt often. 

I’ll walk you to your room. I can read Suav numbers, at least. What’s yours?

Kell brightened and checked their brief. It should be 470. 

Alright, that’d be down this hallway. It’s a relief, Faja thought, that they aren’t pushing me away.

A few steps later, Faja’s watch buzzed. Ae looked down.

Hey Faja, how many languages do you know? Kell looked at them and Faja stared. Human’s colors were usually so dull, but aer eyes were drawn to the vibrant green of Kell’s, a color rarely seen in space. Shaking aer head to focus, ae counted the languages ae knew.

Three fluently, five partially. They’re fun to learn, though it doesn’t mean much when no one on board can hear me.

Kell thought for a second, started typing, paused, then sent their message. They peered at aer from behind their hair.

Language isn’t always about hearing. Have you thought about learning sign language?

It was Faja’s turn to pause. Kell fidgeted with a button on their watch. This human was making an effort to bond… with aer. Even though ae was a different species, and even though ae couldn’t offer any career advancement or connections. Ae closed aer eyes and inhaled. Maybe, just maybe, ae would make their first friend on board. It really wasn’t a question, then, was it? This deathworlder wasn’t so bad.

ae typed aer reply: 

I’d love too.

---

Based on a post by @bunnyycat, this is the edited version post-a-good-nights-sleep. Image description in alt.

[maxsimagination]

𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗽 𝘁𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝗲- 𝗮.𝗽𝘂𝘁𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗮𝘀

summary: the ballon d’or ceremony is a night for celebrations, but alexia has other plans in mind.

-> !! strap use, captain kink !!

𖦹 masterlist

𝗕𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗢𝗡 𝗗'𝗢𝗥.

the highest honour in the world of football.

the awards ceremony was being held tonight, and the highest names in the leagues were going to be there - male and female. i was over the moon that i had been nominated, i would have been happy with just an invitation to view the celebration.

nominated from the barcelona women's team there was me, alexia, jenni, irene and sandra. mapi was also attending but she hadn't been nominated, only invited.

i had a gut feeling that i hadn't come first, normally the winners were made aware at least 10 hours before the actual ceremony. since i hadn't heard anything and we were en route to the venue, it was my natural assumption.

the girls were all chatting in the limousine that the barcelona staff had hired out. i was sat next to mapi and irene. the latter was talking my ear off about how cool the night is going to be, even if none of us won.

i was by far one the youngest players to be nominated this year, only 20 years old, but turning 21 in the next couple of months.

we pulled up to the event just then, and all six of us exited the car, following the men in suits that guided us. one by one, we all walked onto the red carpet, had a couple of pictures taken, along with a group one of everyone form barcelona femeni. finally the photos were over with and we could head inside to sit down.

the crowd that was already sitting in the massive ceremony hall was insane. most of the left side was already filled up and the right side had a couple of people lingering around it. we took our seats and i let out a sigh of relief. it wasn't that i didn't like these things, i just hated the heels i was wearing.

"you okay, chica?"

i heard a voice i knew to be alexia's from my left and i turned to her with a tired smile.

"sí, just tired. and my feet hurt."

she laughed at that, patting my clothed thigh.

"i can give you a massage when we get home, cariño."

she squeezed my thigh as she whispered in my ear, her voice turning gravelly. it was insanely hot.

"ale..."

my voice held a warning; we were in public and on live tv, she shouldn't do this here.

"yn... you know i love that dress on you."

i was wearing a plain black dress but it was halter neck with a low back and two slits, one on each leg. i blushed hard at her words, feeling the shivers travel through my body.

finally the ceremony got underway, all the long-winded speeches and guest speakers.

it felt like a million years had passed before the actual awards were being held up. the men's awards came first, of course, then the women's. all the nominees were told to stand and wait backstage so they could all walk out on stage when they were called.

that meant all of our group but mapi had to get up. i gave her a quick kiss on the forehead before getting up and walking off.

alexia was behind me the entire time, and when we were safely out of eyesight, i felt her hand on the small of my back, dangerously close to slipping under the fabric. and she did, her fingers dipped under the waistband to latch onto the minuscule thong i had worn underneath the dress.

"oh, bebita... so naughty."

she leant down and whispered in my ear. i tensed up before one of the backstage directors called out for all of us women to get into the directed positions. that meant alexia and i had to split up.

when our names were called out we walk out. the nerves were still buzzing around inside me, and it got worse when i didn't hear my name called for the first few people.

i had almost automatically assumed i'd be near the bottom, being so young and what some would called 'inexperienced'. so you can imagine my surprise when i was called as 4th overall. my jaw dropped to the floor for a split second before i remembered to walk out.

then when all the other players were called as well, the hosts called a guest speaker to announce the winner.

"and the winner of the ballon d'or feminin 2021 is... alexia putellas!" cheers erupted throughout the hall and i had the largest smile on my face as alexia walked out to collect the award. she thanked the speaker before turning to the crowd and holding up the golden ball for everyone to see.

alexia putellas, my teammate, my captain, my girlfriend, had won the ballon d'or.

——

it was almost half past ten when we arrived home after the ceremony. choosing to forgo the barcelona 'after party', alexia drove us straight to her apartment. the car ride was silent but in a comfortable way. i knew she wouldn't let me off the hook for the thong i'd worn tonight, so i was waiting until she said something.

when we got in the door, she walked straight to the bedroom, clearly expecting me to follow her. i quickly took my heels off and followed her. the second i stepped in the door, she was on me. her lips on mine, and her hands travelling to my ass.

"you have no clue what you do to me."

she breathed out heavily when we broke apart. i was just as breathless, my cheeks flushed red.

"ale, please."

she smirked before unzipping her dress, and telling me to take mine off too. i unclipped mine and let it fall to the floor. the moment i turned around i was in for a surprise.

alexia had somehow taken both her dress and underwear off in record time, and was standing facing me while securing our favourite strap. my eyes widened and i could myself getting more excited. alexia moved to the bed and laid down.

"let's warm you up, yea? you're gonna sit on my face."

i crawled up to her where her head was and swung my leg over. i sunk down on her and her mouth immediately latched onto my clit. i moaned at the contact, falling forward and having to steady myself with a hand on the headboard.

her mouth was working wonders, licking, sucking, biting, and bringing me closer and closer to my first orgasm of the night.

"ale, ale i'm close."

she didn't falter in her ministrations, just kept working her tongue on my clit. and just like that i fell over the edge, spasming and letting go all over alexia's face.

she licked one last stripe from my pulsing hole to my swollen clit before lifting me off her face and switching us.

"gonna need you on your knees, bebita."

i had an idea of where this was going and i was scrambling to get into position. alexia was stood behind me, her hand resting on my waist while i waited patiently. suddenly i felt the tip of her strap slide through my folds, before pushing into me. she took it slowly, letting me adjust to the size and setting a steady pace.

it was a delicious feeling, the way her cock slid in and out, filling me up before pulling out, only to push back in again. i let out a moan, and pushed my ass back to meet alexia's thrusts.

"needy girl, are you?"

"need it faster, please capitana."

the rank slipped out of my mouth without a thought. i could feel alexia's hand tighten her grip on my waist before her thrusts quickened.

i arched my back so my chest and face were resting on the bed and my ass was pushed up, on full display. still pushing back to meet alexia's thrusts again. my hand trailed down to my clit, desperate for some sort of friction. i was so close, i could feel it.

i started rubbing on the bundle of nerves harder, faster. my hole was clenching around alexia's cock faster now, i was right on the edge.

"ale, capitana, please. can i cum?"

"yes bebita, cum for me. cum all over my cock."

that was all the time i needed as i let go for the second time that night, dripping all over alexia's strap. alexia slowed down her thrusts and fucked me through my orgasm, then slowly pulling out and discarding the strap somewhere so she could clean up later.

"are you okay, cariño?"

i nodded, eyes closed, just soaking in the fucked-out bliss i was in.

"words, y/n."

alexia chuckled.

"that was the best sex ever."

i breathed out with a smile, opening my eyes and looking up into alexia's green orbs.

[hypernova-writes]

Im a simple person, i read something pokemon related, i become involved. Can you do like a larry(the gym leader from gen 9) x female reader who works at the restaurant he eats at? He thought nothing of it until he realizes his lustful desires and tries to be with the reader which she likes him back[consent of course]. Nsfw if you don't mind?

I LOVE LARRRYYYY listen he's in my top 10 fave Poke men, like idk what it is about this middle aged man but GOD does he have me clawing at the cage of my inclosure—

If you'd like to support me, Here's my kofi!

Larry x Reader: Can't help myself.

At first he'd thought it was something that could just go away.

He thought you were just some flitting feeling.

Until now.

When he first saw you, he remembers it like it was yesterday. You were a new hire, not his usual server who would take his order.

"Hi! What can I get you today?"

Your smile was infectious, he couldn't help but allow a slight grin to grace his lips. When he relayed his order to you, he watched as you pursued your lips as you concentrated on writing.

"Got it! It'll be right up!"

You were such a cute little thing. Something out of his normal routine, his mundane life that he continued to go through each day. You were like a breath of fresh air.

So each day he made sure to adjust his schedule a bit to make sure that gets you.

He loved the way that you greeted him each time he came. "Hi there Larry~!, getting your usual?" And he could feel his heart flutter.

He knew he was falling for you, especially since he was dreaming of you at night.

Dreaming of your body on top of his late at night, you waiting at home for him wearing practically nothing, begging for him to just to absolutely destroy you.

Now everytime he saw you u. The restaurant, he would have daydreams of bending you over the counter right then and there.

Or he could take you to the back, find a storage room and bury his face between your thighs, listening to those cute and adorable little moans leaning your body.

Fuck. He was getting hard.

He runs his hands across his face before he finally decided that fuck it. He needed to know if you felt the same or not.

"Hey. Y/n."

He watched as you turned around, coming to walk over to him. "Hmm? You need something Larry?"

"Yea. Are you single?"

You blushed and rubbed the back of your neck. "O-oh me? Yea.."

He smirks before he finished. "Good, Because I want you to be my girlfriend." He was forward, no need in hiding what he wanted to badly. He loved the nervous and adorable blush that came across your face.

Of course he was a gentleman, walked you in, took your coat, guided you to the small dinner he had whipped up in his kitchen.

"Come by after work."

------

Larry felt a bit bad for the man that he became the moment you stepped through his door.

He watches as you eat, a small smile breaking out as he watches you do a little happy dance from how good the food was.

The way you looked over at him, oh how he loved it so.

That's why the way you looked under him was so much better.

The little noises that left your body, as his hands grip those thick, plush thighs of yours. You took him so well, begging and pleading for him to fuck hou harder.

"L-larry~!"

His name sounded like Heaven coming off your lips, it made him want ot completely destroy you, ruin you for someone else so that you could only be with him.

"You like that?..huh? Being my naughty girl."

"Y-yes yes!" He buried his face in the crook of your neck as he slammed his hips into hers, he gripped the bedsheets near your head, whispering praises into your ear as he decided right there.

You were going to be his and no one else's. You were only going to be apart of his daily routine.

Not anyone else's.

[cocoatonedcurls]

simplified manifestation 101 :))

hii! i thought I would post a beginner's guide to manifestation, for people who are still new to the idea of it/want a thorough, contextualised explanation 🤗

manifestation is not something people necessarily struggle with, however, grasping concepts about it and misconceptions surrounding it can make it a little difficult for those who are just starting out.

if I could simplify manifesting down to a single sentence, it would be:

"If you can believe it, you can have it."

it's really as simple as that, manifesting is all about believing 😇

I don't know if anyone else had this experience, but when I was a kid, around 7-12, I used to manifest without even knowing what it was; I would just believe that I was going to achieve something that was , there was no uncertainty about it, and then, I would! 🤩

(I manifested a spot in a competition abroad when I was 10 🫣)

Over time, as my confidence in myself faded, this occurrence would happen far less frequently which goes to show that its all about your confidence and belief 💥

This is gonna sound like something straight out of mlp 😭 but you just need to believe in urself and the universe will conform to allow everything you want to be yours 🙈

some basic guidelines

* CIRCUMSTANCE DOESN'T MATTER

no, it doesn't matter if you're trying to get an ex back, or win the lottery, or convince your parents (who've been putting it off) to get a dog. manifesting is taking your life into your own hands and controlling it. your life is a movie and you're the director of it.

now, majority of people get into manifesting when they are curious about manifesting SPs, but coincidentally, it is also the concept that people struggle with the most because of the concern of free will or circumstances, but really neither of those two things matter.

* DON'T GET AFFECTED BY THE 3D

the 4D is the dimension that allows you to live the life that you would live while having what you are manifesting. as long as you are aware of what you're manifesting, just visualise yourself living in this reality and feel all the emotions and fulfilment you would while living in that ideal reality, this will allow you to reach the state of having, which I will get onto later in the post

the 3D is the dimension you experience physically, but it does not get to dictate what is yours and what will be yours; that is what the 4D does, it controls the 3D, and lucky for you, you control the 4D!

if you're manifesting an SP and you see that person posting with another person of interest, don't start sulking and feeling sorry for yourself thinking that its over for you, that's shooting yourself in the foot. what you do is you think "that's cool, but they're happier with me", that way you're not getting affected by the 3d and conveying your message to the 4D, which will relay it back to the 3D, and then your 3D will conform to it.

* "EVERYONE IS YOU PUSHED OUT" & LAW OF ASSUMPTION

you see this saying, Everyone is You Pushed Out, a lot in the manifesting community, and it might seem like an intimidating concept but its something that you experience in your day to day life anyways 😦

for example, you know when you've heard something about someone which changes your perception of them, and suddenly their persona suddenly conforms to your changed perception? that's the law of EIYPO in action!

the Law of Assumption is essentially the same concept but in a more general state, like your life as a whole, eg. manifesting a better grade or job or paycheck 💸

however, the way I see it, the results of manifesting are the results of other people's actions. for example, if you're manifesting a better grade, you yourself are the person that your manifestations are affecting, you'll retain information better and apply your knowledge properly in a test; if you're manifesting a job, your manifestations are affecting the person who had the position before to move, and the person who is hiring to be inclined to hire you; and the same concept applies to when manifesting an SP, your manifestations are affecting your SP to have more positively correlated feelings towards you.

so you can use these concepts to help you in your manifestations, particularly in the SP context: if you believe that they are attracted to you, it'll only be a matter of time before they will be.

* THE STATE OF HAVING, NOT DESIRING

considering this is arguably one of the most important aspects of manifesting. it is what brings manifestations to fruition

in simple terms, there are two objective states of being when manifesting:

The state of having

The state of wanting

The state of having is what you experience when you allow yourself to live in the 4D (the 4th dimension, where your goals are reality) and feel the fulfilment that you would feel while living the life you are manifesting. Affirmations like "I am paid incredibly well", "That job is mine", "They are attracted to me" will help you in achieving this mindset. This feeling is your biggest helper when it comes to applying the Law of Assumption/EIYPO in practice! It is you knowing you have what you want and allowing the universe to do the rest for you.

The state of wanting is when you are stuck feeling like you still crave what you are manifesting, not feeling like it is secured in your possession. This can leave you plateaued and doubts can slow down your manifesting. Affirmations like "I will be paid well", "That job will be mine", "They will be attracted to me" pose the question 'WHEN?'

Now don't take this as a, "If I doubt, my manifestation won't come true" because we all have doubts, even the greatest manifesters, but what is important is that your doubts do not stop your state of having being affected. As long as in the 4D you know it is yours, the 3D will conform to make it yours.

Here's a quote that helps me acheive the state of having

"You want it so badly because you already have it in the future"

simplified tutorial :)

many people have the question, "how?"

there isn't any set way, but honestly, the state of having is the essence of manifesting, if you can remain in the state of having, you can achieve your goal.

now that isn't to say that if you're not in that state, thinking about it 24/7, your goal wont manifest, but rather, if in the background of your mind, you have a feeling of knowing it is yours and not panicking about it, it will happen.

if someone asks, "hey, what's your job?" you'd reply with your current job, but in your mind you'd know that your dream job was what you actually worked as. this example highlights the difference between the 3D and the 4D and how not to let your 3D affect your state while still living in the 4D.

techniques like robotic affirmations, visualising and different manifestation methods (3,6,9 method, letter method, etc.) can help you reach the state of having and manifesting. there are so many different techniques you can find!

it really all comes down to how I described manifesting earlier, believing it is achieving it.

hopefully this was helpful for you whether you're completely new to manifesting or you just wanted some clarification and concepts :))

- li 🌘

[calangolengo]

Some headcanons that I think about a lot for Mute!Stan:

1. He didn't stop talking right away, it was a gradual process. Each year he spoke less, which got him into less trouble as a criminal, he had to do horrible things to himself to control his tongue and speak softly, he was yelled at a lot on the streets to shut up.

2. He learned some sign language on the street, but he wasn't fluent so he still had to speak sometimes.

3. When he got Ford's card he was barely speaking anymore, talking to his brother was one thing since his voice had been out of use for months already.

4. After Ford falls into the portal, Stan organizes his own funeral, his mother almost recognizes his voice because it was very different from Ford's at this point, so he decides to stop talking completely. People saw this as a response to the trauma of losing his brother so they didn't talk much about it.

5. Stan still opened the Mystery Shack, but without the guided tours. He simply made it more like a museum. He placed a speaker in front of each strange object where he recorded some descriptions of the creatures in advance, alone, at night.

6. He spread several speakers throughout the cabin with price information and random curiosities. As well as a larger speaker that constantly repeated that they did not accept refunds at the Mystery Shack.

7. The tours were created by Soos. As a child, he would visit the cabin with his grandmother and, since she was bad with the speakers, he would invent descriptions of the objects himself, which always gathered a small crowd around him who bought many more things on the way out. Stan hired him almost immediately.

8. Soos quickly learned sign language to talk to Stan and later taught Wendy, who also went to work there.

9. The kids learned sign language at home when they learned they were going to stay with their estranged great uncle who they had only heard about and who was apparently mute. It was a challenging project for them. Dipper learned it to challenge himself academically and Mabel learned it because it was fun to use a secret language and also because she thought it was like creating spells with her hands. They weren't very good, but they managed well.

10. When the portal is reactivated, Mabel is still left with the decision of whether to turn it off or not and for the first time in years Stan speaks and asks her not to turn it down, which shocks everyone because they thought Stan was mute since birth.

11. Ford is not happy when he comes back and Stan doesn't talk to him, despite all his knowledge of sign language it was never something that caught his attention and he suspects that Stan is just doing it just to be a jerk.

12. The kids get upset with Stan for being able to talk all that time and refuse to acknowledge his sign language for the rest of the day, avoiding looking at his hands the whole time, Stan panics and basically Soos is the only one who makes communication between Stan and the others viable because he translates everything Stan says.

13. The kids talk to Stan again the next day because he seems miserable for not being able to talk to them and also because they are so used to this type of communication that they forget that they were ignoring him.

14. Ford is the hardest to accommodate; when he's not deliberately ignoring Stan, he tries to catch him off guard so he'll talk. At one point, an argument starts at night on the porch, demanding that his brother talk, which leads Stan to try to talk again, but can't because he's desperate and has a panic attack.

15. During Weirdmageddon, they still switch identities, with Stan speaking and acting exactly like Ford. Bill is tricked because he knows that one of the twins can't talk and ends up being erased with Stan's mind.

16. When his memory is erased, Stan starts talking again. It takes a while for his voice to come back because he didn't use it much. The children still use sign language while talking to him to try to bring his memories back. The scrapbook works little by little.

17. With each passing day, Stan remembers a little more and each day he talks less until, by the time Stan and Ford get on their boat, he has all his memory restored and has stopped talking completely again.

18. Stan speaks few words sometimes, he says his brother's name, a few words of comfort or a greeting, only to Ford and in a low tone of voice, it doesn't happen much but whenever it does it brings Ford to tears, he preserves each of these moments as treasures.

That's it for now, I've been thinking a lot about Mute Stan in the last few days and I wanted to express these thoughts a little, whoever wants to add more things or take over the narrative from here on out, feel free, the floor is open.

[astrobiscuits]

🎄🎵Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas🎵🎄

Holiday (365443) persona chart observations

🎅 Individuals with Ascendant at 1° or 3° get really excited in advance at the thought of Christmas coming. They tend to approach the holidays with the same innocent joy they had as kids even in adulthood

🎅 Stellium in 2nd house = tasty Christmas dishes and gifts are their only priority lmao

🎅 Neptune trine Venus tend to get lost in the beauty and bling of Christmas decorations

🎅 The sign and house where Jupiter is located tells you what type of gifts you might usually get on Christmas (it's also great to use as a gift guide!!):

🎁 Jupiter 1st house/Aries: gym equipment; sports-related merch; tickets to an event, which you're really passionate about; hats/head accessories; could also be something related to the natal Ascendant (check the description for your natal Rising sign for more info)

🎁 Jupiter in 2nd house/Taurus: lots of chocolate and sweets; clothes; art pieces; scented candles; perfume; fine china; kitchen utensils; cookbooks; (renewed) subscription to a movie streaming service

🎁 Jupiter in 3rd house/Gemini: a (new) car; books; musical instruments; handpan (if Jupiter is in Pisces or it positively aspects Neptune); your most memorable gift might come from a sibling or a relative (cousin, uncle, aunt)

🎁 Jupiter in 4th house/Cancer: plushies; heated blanket; board games; photo albums; your most memorable gift might come from your parents or it might be something passed on from generation to generation

🎁 Jupiter in 5th house/Leo: concert tickets; a trip to the tattoo parlor; gold jewelry; could also be something related to the natal Sun

🎁 Jupiter in 6th house/Virgo: Fitbit/smartwatch; aesthetic stationery (notebooks, planners, writing instruments); reusable water bottle; humidifier; pets

🎁 Jupiter in 7th house/Libra: make-up; beauty gadgets; a romantic partner/fiancé (no, but fr, you might get a love confession during the holidays); your most memorbale gift likely might come from your partner (if you have one)

🎁 Jupiter in 8th house/Scorpio: money/gift cards; sexy time toys; stockings; could be something the individual is obsessed with

🎁 Jupiter in 9th house/Sagittarius: trips to exotic destinations; henna hair dye; compression socks

🎁 Jupiter in 10th house/Capricorn: vintage decor; office chair; office purse (or just one that screams "high status"); sterling silver jewelry; high quality alcohol drinks

🎁 Jupiter in 11th house/Aquarius: electronic devices (smartphone, laptop, tablet, etc.); video games; anything related to supernatural beings (aliens, mermaids, fairies etc.); telescope; anything you've wished for/been manifesting

🎁 Jupiter in 12th house/Pisces: anything sleep related - pajamas, bed sheets, pillow sheets (or a new pillow), silk sleepmask; crystals; manifestation journal; tarot decks; art supplies

🎅 Christmas traditions based on the number of planets in angular/succedent/cadent houses:

❄️ High number of planets in angular houses (1, 4, 7, 10) = starting new family traditions

❄️ High number of planets in succedent houses (2, 5, 8, 11) = carrying out family traditions

❄️ High number of planets in cadent houses (3, 6, 9, 12) = tweaking/improving current family traditions or letting them go if they don't resonate anymore

🎅 Sun square/opposite Saturn & Ascendant conjunct/square/opposite Saturn = Grinch who doesn't like Christmas, but doesn't do anything to "destroy" it; might show a lot of sarcasm during the holidays; they might not celebrate Christmas due to reasons related to their position of Saturn

🎅 Sun square/opposite Mars = Grinch who doesn't like Christmas, but actively tries to "destroy" the holiday spirit for the people around them by picking up fights with loved ones

🎅 If you want to "hire" a Santa to show up with gifts for your kids on Christmas (aka choose one of your friends to fulfill this role), the best Santa would have atleast 3 of the following:

Sun conjunct/sextile/trine Jupiter

Venus conjunct/sextile/trine Jupiter

Sun/Moon in 5th house

Jupiter in 2nd house/5th house

Jupiter conjuncting MC

Sagittarius Rising or Jupiter as dom planet

Ruler of 2nd house (benefic planet) in 5th house and vice versa

Asteroid Abundantia (151) conjuncting Venus/Jupiter

❆❆❆ ~ 𝕸𝖊𝖗𝖗𝖞 𝕮𝖍𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖒𝖆𝖘, 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖞𝖔𝖓𝖊 ~ ❆❆❆

[sirfrogsworth]

Froggie's (Almost) Very Productive Day

I try to fit as many out-and-about chores as possible into a single day so I only have one set of post-exertional malaise consequences instead of consequences after each day of doing a thing. So any time I decide to drive, I try to find several tasks to accomplish all at once.

My first stop was the Family Services Division in the hopes of getting some help with grocery bills. I am making ends meet, but it seems to be getting harder each month. And maybe I could have skipped my trip to Florida and saved that money, but if I don't do something drastic for my mental health, I fear this first holiday season without a parent could send me into the darkness.

I needed to do an interview to finish applying for SNAP. I wanted to do a phone interview, but the next appointment was in January. So I went to social services where they allow walk-in appointments. I waited in a tiny plastic chair for several hours until they called my name. She yelled out "Benjamin" because when most people see "Grelle" they aren't really sure how to say it. (Rhymes with belly.)

She started my interview and it was going swimmingly at first. But then she started asking questions about the house and my inheritance and my trust. I had no idea what to tell her. It feels like a mistake now, but I have had pretty much no involvement in that process. I have no idea how it works. And I started to panic because she was acting like I was committing fraud or something by not mentioning the trust. But the entire point of the trust was to protect my benefits. Nothing is mine. I own nothing. I have no access. But I had no idea how to explain that.

Maybe my lawyer can help me apply, but I did not want them investigating everything and screwing things up before we even have the estate through probate. We specifically hired a lawyer and went through this convoluted process to make sure everything was on the up and up. But she really made me feel like I was doing something wrong. And that made me panic, which probably made me look even more guilty of something. So I just canceled everything and left.

After a few hours in a crowded government office, I decided to head to a different crowded government office.

I know I didn't need it until 2025, but I decided to go ahead and get my Real ID thingie before my first flight. I was kind of hoping they'd retake my picture because my current driver's license is... well...

And I'm so glad they took my big terrible picture and made it into a smaller, more terrible picture.

People complain about the DMV, but the one near me runs like a machine. It was filled with people and I still only had a 10 minute wait time.

I'm starting to wonder if all of those 80s comedians who were all, "What's the deal with the DMV?" were exaggerating.

Good stuff, Jerry.

I head up to the counter and ask for a Real ID. She asks for two pieces of mail and my birth certificate.

And this disappointed me a little bit.

I did my research. I went to the Real ID website and used their interactive guide to figure out exactly which documents I would need. They gave me this entire checklist and I printed it out and went through all my records and mail trying to find everything.

I had to wait a week for my internet bill to come because it's the only thing I forgot to change to paperless. This took a lot of effort and I was ready to be validated for being so prepared.

And she asks for two pieces of mail.

Any mail.

So I was off to get new tires.

Driving around on 8 year old bald tires was giving me anxiety. I didn't have the money for new tires, but I remember the guy saying they had financing. Recently several of my past debts went past the statute of limitations, and so my credit score lifted itself out of the pits of "poor" and into the realm of "fair." So I decided to take a chance and apply for a Discount Tire credit card. It's a 6 month payment plan with no interest, so that didn't feel as predatory as all the credit card offers I get in the mail with 8000% interest.

We started going through the approval process and I was answering all of the questions and then I saw the name of the bank offering the credit. It was the same bank that tried to sue me and also the bank that can longer collect due to the statute. I was worried they put me on some sort of list and would deny me. But, to my surprise, they approved me instantly. And wouldn't you know it, they gave me almost exactly the amount needed for a new set of tires.

I'm hoping we'll be doing another auction of the house stuff soon, so I plan to pay off the card and then cancel it, but this was the only solution I could come up with to drive safely until then.

I was having a weird day where photos of crusty rich wide dudes followed me everywhere I went. Here is my good ol' boy governor at the entrance to social services.

And at the tire place, I noticed this fella...

Why does every rich CEO think they are a font of wisdom capable of creating compelling quotes?

Does he think no one has ever said "work hard" and "have fun"? And after he said this was he like...

"That's gold, put that in *every* store."

"Oh, and use that picture of me where it looks like a handsome gal just grabbed my undercarriage."

He probably thinks, "Well, no one has put these specific generic platitudes together into a single mega-platitude. I am a genius."

"Be honest, work hard, have fun, be grateful, pay it forward" sounds like he had a bunch of motivational posters on his wall and started reading them all at once.

Like, every line could have a picture of an eagle above it.

In any case, the guy at the tire store, Dakota, was really nice. He made the experience very low anxiety. And he really liked my Thor's Hammer keychain with built in fidget spinner.

He went around showing it to all his coworkers. "Look, it even spins!" And they were like, "Dude, where did you get that??" And I was like, "Amazon." Now I'm just imagining 10 dudes at a tire store all fidgeting their hammers.

As nice as he was, Dakota was still a salesman and had a job to do. He gave me two tire options and tried to upsell me. The cheapest tires had a "1" rating for winter. He said they get "super hard" in the cold... I tried not to giggle. But I explained I drive about twice a month and mostly to the grocery store. If it is a bad winter day, I'll just wait or get delivery. He understood and set me up with the cheaper tires.

He then checked out my car and noticed my tire pressure sensors were dying. I keep getting a warning light on my dash. Apparently they all have tiny batteries in them that die after 7 years. And you can't just replace the batteries so you have to install brand new sensors.

And this is where my social anxiety got me into trouble.

I don't actually need these sensors. They are usually inaccurate. I prefer to test my tires with an actual gauge. But I got so caught up in his sales pitch that I agreed to replace them... at $60 each. For that I could have gotten the fancier tires. I really don't care if an orange light shows up on my dash. And I looked up the price online and a pack of 4 is $30. Though that is without installation.

But still... I wasn't thinking and he was so nice that I was just like, "I want to please Dakota. Saying no might make Dakota sad." Dakota's job is selling me but that doesn't mean I have to buy anything. He would live if I had said "no thanks."

To make my blunder more blunderous, when they finished the tires he asked for my key fob. And it decided that was the time for the battery to die. And in order to reset the system for the new tire pressure sensors, you have to press two buttons on the fob for 7 seconds. Thankfully I had a spare fob at home, but if I want my fancy new $240 sensors to work, I have to return to Dakota and have him initialize them.

I really hope these are the Cadillac of sensors.

Or, like, the ones they use on Cadillacs?

They better be accurate, is what I'm saying.

I do feel safer with new tires. So I am glad I did that. And I gave them a good obligatory kick and felt the tread. They seem nice enough even if they get boners in the winter. It's crazy how bald my other tires were in comparison. Like, I can fit half my finger down into the tread on the new ones—which did not get them super hard.

The way I drive, I probably won't wear them down. They'll probably start to rot before I do.

Before I do, meaning before I wear them down.

Not before I rot.

I am not in a rotting competition with my tires.

I was then off to Sam's. I decided all of my hard work accomplishing 2 out of 3 goals deserved some sushi. So I grabbed some California Rolls and headed home. On my way out, a Hummer and a Porsche nearly collided in the parking lot. And they sort of got stuck facing each other. One of them needed to back up and they both signaled at each other like "You back up, I'm not backing up." And it was just this weird standoff between the two douchiest looking cars you could imagine.

I mean, you have to be a douche to drive a Hummer.

I still remember the mystery Hummer dialysis patient from when my dad was going 3 time per week. We could never figure out who owned the Hummer, but we knew it was not the underpaid nurses and techs. So it had to be one of the patients. And none of them seemed the type. We never solved that mystery.

That hummer started off a delightful safety yellow. (Elon would cry.)

They decided this wasn't extra enough... so they did this...

Katrina and I could never decide... are these cow spots or the world's least effective camoflauge?

There was another patient who drove this old beater...

And I loved seeing this car because we had the same one when I was a little kid. I'm afraid the aesthetics of the 1980s Caprice Classic did not stand the test of time, but it had great sentimental appeal for me.

But this maroon beast that squeaked and sputtered its way from here to there belonged to a very sweet older gentleman. Sometimes he and my dad would be dialysis buddies—sitting next to each other in the recliners. And the worst thing about dialysis was the boredom. All you have to do is watch broadcast TV with 4 channels.

All of the TVs require headphones. They give you your own set of super cheap headphones in the dialysis welcome bag. They were very uncomfortable so I ordered my dad better ones with cushioned ear cups.

His dialysis buddy noticed them and thought they looked nice. And then he revealed that his free headphones broke and he didn't know how to get new ones. He had been watching TV with no sound for weeks. So, I bought another pair with the soft ear cups and my dad gave them to his friend. And it just made me happy imagining the two of them watching The Price is Right in matching headphones.

I do have to make fun of this sweet old man a little bit. When I walked passed his car I noticed he implemented the world's most effective anti-theft device ever created.

That's right... The Club™.

If someone decides they have to have a 40 year old car with an engine that sounds like a dying hyena and a hubcap missing... they are out of luck.

But hey, you gotta protect what is important to you. And if I needed a getaway car and my choices were between his beater and the Cow Hummer, I'd take his ride for sure.

Well, I'd try... and then get arrested because The Club™ is undefeatable.

Do NOT look that up on YouTube. It's 100% true. (And the Lock Picking Lawyer doesn't count due to him being able to break into Fort Knox with a paperclip and then doing it again to make sure it isn't a fluke.)

The dialysis center is in the same complex as my local Tolerable Schnucks and I still see that maroon boat of a car every once in a while. I always smile whenever it is there because it lets me know he is hanging in there and hopefully still has sound for his TV.

Wow, I went off on a mega-tangent.

I didn't even finish talking about my day. Where was I? Oh, the douche standoff finally ended. The Porsche Douche capitulated and backed up. Probably due to the fact the Hummer Douche has 0 visibility behind him.

When I got home I started devouring my sushi. I finally heard back from my lawyer. He submitted the last of the evidence for my appeal. And I was finally able to confirm he got the records of my ECT treatments from 20 years ago. I worked so hard to get those. At first, they forgot to send all records before 2011. I had to call back and figure that out. They shipped them and they didn't arrive until a week before we had to file. Everything was so last minute and my anxiety has been... palpable. It felt like when I did my science fair project on Sunday night.

He's hoping to get a decision at the beginning of next year. He warned me that these appeals are usually rejected. And that the most effective method of approval was a hearing in front of an administrative law judge. But that could be delayed by up to a year. So I might need to figure out how to survive until 2025. As long as my brother does what he is legally required to do, I should be okay. But counting on that also gives me palpable anxiety.

And that was my day.

Every time I go out is always an adventure.

But remember...

BE NICE. EAT YOUR VEGGIES. PET CUTE DOGS. DREAM BIG. KEEP YOUR TIRES WARM... FOR REASONS. 5 LIFE LESSONS -Froggie, Mildly Famous Internet Person

[sunnycantaloupe]

Iris's Guide and Instruction on Overblot Care

A brief introduction: Iris Atlas (Nurse Atlas) is the medical professional that Crowley blackmailed brought in to provide care for those that have overblotted at the school. These are her progress reports and thoughts on each of her patients at NRC: For the sake of those that are not caught up on any of the chapters, I will tag this with the general #twst spoiler tag. Please be aware that each segment may contain either implied spoilers for the chapter, or straight up spoilers for the chapter. This is not meant or intended to be perceived as romantic in any way, shape, or form.

You have been warned.

Riddle Rosehearts

10/10 patient

Arrives on time to appointments without fail

Cooperates as best as he can

Keeps verbal complaints about the medicine to a minimum

Took his "post-overblot" care very seriously, showing progress

Final Thoughts/Comments: N/A

Leona Kingscholar

1/10 or 8/10 patient

Rarely arrives on time to appointments

Cooperates, albeit slowly but it's good that he's reacting at all

Very verbal about his dislike of the medicine's taste and smell

May not seem like it, but he does take the "post-overblot" care semi-seriously, showing slow progress

Final Thoughts/Comments: "Headmage Crowley, I request that you hire an actual, certified psychologist."

Azul Ashengrotto

5/10 patient

Cooperates

Arrives on time to appointments

Takes the medicine without much fuss, keeps offering me ideas on how to make it taste better

Shows very difficult behavior when it comes to his "post-overblot" care, have been told by his vice housewarden that he often struggles to follow the "GET PROPER REST" portion, showing slow progress

Final Thoughts/Comments: "Before you ask, no, I cannot give Ashengrotto a sedative to help him rest. It will interfere with the medicine. What I can suggest to him is aroma therapy. Speaking of which, why is there no psychologist on site yet?"

Jamil Viper

6/10 patient

Cooperates

Arrives on time to appointments, has only been late a handful of times

Takes the medicine with little complaint

Would not tell me what prevents him from prioritizing his "post-overblot" care at first, however I got him to inform me of his troubles and will be promptly informing his housewarden that he needs to be left alone during his rest, showing slow progress

Final Thoughts/Comments: "Headmage Crowley, this is my third attempt at making you aware of the need for a psychologist on school grounds. I must remind you, I am not certified for that."

Vil Schoenheit

4/10 patient

Cooperates

Arrives on time to some appointments, often late due to his "schedule", which he should be on leave from

Takes the medicine with no complaint, keeps asking me to divulge its contents which you and I both know I cannot do

Takes his "post-overblot" care seriously, though it's to be noted that it's mostly due to the help of his vice housewarden, showing progress

Final Thoughts/Comments: "You continue to ignore my requests, even if it's for the better of your students. If this continues, I will have no choice but to inform the proper authorities and face my own due consequences for aiding you in hiding this."

Idia Shroud

2/10 patient

He tries his best to cooperate and that is all I ask for

Arrives on time to appointments, mainly due to Ortho Shroud getting him here, sometimes he attends on his own

Shroud takes different medicine, has little to no complaints about taking said medicine

To be frank, I cannot tell if he is even doing his "post-overblot" care, showing progress

Final Thoughts/Comments: N/A

Malleus Draconia

Unfortunately, this report is unavailable at the moment. Please contact Iris Atlas at the following number: XXX-XXX-XXXX

...

"Yuu"

10/10 patient

Cooperates as best they can

Arrives on time to appointments, is sometimes late

Complaints about the medicine are kept to a minimum, though nothing seems to be changing for them

The "post-overblot" care seems to have no effect on them, showing no progress

Final Thoughts/Comments: "Dire Crowley, nothing works on this student. Their body does not react to any medicine I give them. Whilst we're on this topic, their biology indicates that they should not exist. Their blood type does not match nor cooperate with any existing resources we have. Their fingerprint has already caused 3 databases to crash, and their DNA does not tie to anyone in Twisted Wonderland. Who is this student, and why don't they exist?"

A/N: And that's a wrap for this! Just wanted to do a little oc thingy with my staff oc :D If you would like to know more about Iris, let me know and I'll try to put together a post of sorts with her basic info and some background facts. Happy reading <33

[dylanisdazed]

ok hey im drunk heres some dreams i had last night

first of all, idk where this came from or even how it started but i need you to look up wire cutting clay.

ok did you google that or youtube that?

so...this authoritarian entity was taking people and they would draw a line down the forehead, down the bridge of the nose, then across the mouth and down the side of mouth to sort of create a puzzle piece of the face......

then this super sharp wire came down and sliced their heads 😐😮😟😲😲🤮🤢🤮🤕🤮🤢🤮🤢

it was so gross and scary. they said they did it in a way to keep most of the brain intact to keep people alive.....

and then i was renovating this big house by myself and i was telling my mom how scared i was about the slicing and she was like "Oh Dylie, don't be silly. Our money will keep us safe." 😂🤣 WHAT MONEY MOM? but also i felt better and continued renovating this huge house i had apparently. They also made children bungee jump from a 140 story building and it was designed to snap so it killed them.

Anyway

THEN, I was flown out to the desert, it was so beautiful it was like Colorado adjacent and there was all this orange terrain and pretty blue sky. It was a new company. It doesn't make sense but it was like this HUGE reservoir of QUALITY red wine but also water? So we had this really good red wine and could also bottle water but the bubbles made it toxic idk. Anyway, I was really concerned about it being toxic and selling it to people and they were like we produce 500 million gallons of wine a second, we will be SO rich and they wanted to hire me and I was conflicted but I was like okay well can we at least invest a lot of money into hiding the fact its toxic and also find a scapegoat if anyone finds out?

SO THEN

They hire me as Vice President, the owner Tori, LOVED me. She was like your so cute and you have great ideas. I told her I still felt conflicted so I needed a BIG salary and also i would only work 1 day per 7 days off. They agreed and so I took the job. It took me like a month to fly to New York from there because I flew one day, then had to take a week off, then fly again then take a week off then have a meeting then take a week off, etc.

In the wine reservoir they had these HUGE turbines down below the water like way deep and they would offer scuba / diving tours. WELL, they only really did that to people they didn't like and they would guide them INTO the turbines to be chopped into little bits. I was horrified. However, not by the murder more so because I enjoyed the wine. I was like I DONT WANAN DRINK THIS WITH TINY HUMAN BITS AND BLOOD IN IT! They were like this reservoir is like 10 trillion gallons a few humans aren't gonna matter but i was still disgusted so I came up with an idea to bottle a Luxury brand of the wine that was in a separate reservoir that we could charge more for and there would be no bits. I'm a genius!

Anyway, this is how my brain works

bye

[deliciousangelfestival]

Tears In His Ferrari || Chp 4 - B.Barnes

Character: Bucky Barnes x Farmer!Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes, used to a life of luxury, takes on farm challenges in a bet with his father. Mud-stained Ferraris and a rustic farmhouse lead to unexpected personal growth, guided by the stern mentorship of Y/N, a farmer making his city-boy life difficult.

Theme: Fluff, Slice of Life, Heart-Warming.

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 

Chapters: Chp 1, Chp 2, Chp 3 , Chp 4 , Chp 5 , Chp 6 , Chp 7 ,Chp 8 , Chp 9 , Chp 10 , Chp 11 , Chp 12.

Bucky continued his day, the camera capturing every step of his farm journey. "Hey, everyone! It's Bucky Barnes, and today, we're diving into the thrilling world of farm life," he exclaimed to the camera, showcasing the vast expanse of the fields and the tractor humming in the background. He shifted the camera to reveal the small puppy nestled in his lap, earning an "Aww" from his audience.

As Bucky planted the barley seeds meticulously, he shared insights about the process and his challenges. The puppy, seemingly entranced by the rustling leaves and the tractor's rhythmic hum, added charm to the vlog.

With the barley seeds successfully sown, Bucky moved on to the next task—planting potatoes. He mused to the camera, "Now, this is where having an extra pair of hands would really come in handy. Note to self: consider hiring farm help if I ever figure out how to get my bank account back."

The puppy, content in Bucky's lap, became a recurring star in the vlog, eliciting heartwarming comments from viewers. Bucky couldn't help but smile at the positive reactions and the genuine interest his audience showed in his newfound farm companion.

When lunchtime arrived, Bucky parked the tractor and headed home, pondering what to eat. The realization hit him—he couldn't cook. The luxury of having meals prepared or ordering takeout was a distant memory.

Bucky sighed, acknowledging the need to learn basic cooking skills to survive this farm adventure. He decided to keep things simple for now, opting for something that required minimal culinary finesse. 

To his surprise, Bucky entered his house, and Y/N's horse was standing near the entrance gate. He couldn't help but chuckle at the unexpected sight, wondering if the horse had decided to be the official guardian of his newfound home.

As he stepped inside, the aroma of home-cooked food wafted through the air. Samantha, Y/N’s mother, placed a food container on his kitchen counter. She greeted him warmly. Bucky, still holding the camera for his vlog, smiled appreciatively.

"Hey, Bucky! We thought you might need a little help in the food department," Samantha said with a friendly tone.

Bucky chuckled, feeling a twinge of guilt. "I appreciate it, but I don't want to be a burden, getting free food all the time."

Samantha waved off his concern. "Oh, don't you worry about that. Your father has taken care of everything. It's the least we can do to help out a neighbor."

Bucky nodded, grateful for the kindness shown by his unexpected neighbors. The support from Y/N's family was becoming a comforting constant in his journey into the unknown world of farming.

Samantha continued, "You're part of this community now, Bucky. We look out for each other. Consider it a warm welcome."

With a sincere smile, Bucky thanked Samantha and decided to capture this heartwarming moment for his vlog.

But Bucky couldn't help but feel embarrassed as Samantha mentioned that his father had taken care of everything. The realization that his father had prepared not only the essentials for him but also arranged for the delicious meals brought a mix of gratitude and a hint of embarrassment.

Bucky gently put the puppy down, who had already awakened from its peaceful slumber. The little furball seemed to be adjusting well to its new surroundings.

With thoughts of taking the puppy to town for essentials and a check-up, Bucky shared his appreciation for the meal. "These are delicious. If I ever own a restaurant, I'd hire you as the chef," he complimented Samantha.

Samantha giggled at the compliment, but then she dropped a surprising revelation. "Thank you, but it wasn't me who made it. It was my daughter Y/N."

Bucky, mid-bite, raised his eyebrows in astonishment. He hadn't expected Y/N to be the culinary mastermind behind the delectable dishes. The realization caught him off guard, and for a moment, he found himself slightly choked on his food, a mixture of surprise and admiration written across his face.

As Y/N entered with a bag of dog food and a small mattress, effortlessly juggling both items, Bucky couldn't help but be impressed by her multitasking skills. She seemed to carry the weight of responsibility effortlessly, efficiently handling practical tasks.

Curious about the puppy, Y/N inquired, "Where's the dog?" Bucky pointed towards the little furball resting under the table.

Y/N gently picked up the puppy and efficiently settled it on the provided mattress. She then gave the dog milk, showcasing a caring side that caught Bucky off guard.

Observing Y/N's nurturing actions, Bucky couldn't help but appreciate her help. Despite her annoyance at being involved in his farming endeavor, she proved genuinely helpful and caring. However, the pleasant atmosphere turned unexpectedly when Y/N dropped the bomb, "Eat quickly, it looks like it's going to rain."

The news of impending rain dampened Bucky's bright mood. The unpredictable weather added a layer of challenge to his farming adventure, and the reality of rural life began to set in.

As Y/N predicted, the rain arrived, interrupting Bucky's progress on planting the crop seeds. Despite not completing the task, he found solace in the fact that the barley seeds he had managed to plant earlier would benefit from the rain, ensuring faster growth.

Feeling a sense of accomplishment, Bucky returned home to refresh himself. The puppy beside him provided a comforting companionship, making him feel less isolated in this rural setting. The soothing sound of rain outside created a calming ambiance.

Embracing the opportunity presented by the weather, Bucky delved into editing the video he had recorded throughout the day. The rhythmic patter of raindrops against the window accompanied his creative process, adding tranquility to the cozy farmhouse atmosphere.

******

The next day, Bucky felt a sense of ease as the rain had ceased, and the sunrise painted the sky. He savored a homemade breakfast of bread topped with butter, mozzarella cheese, and cherry tomatoes—an extra layer of enjoyment derived from the satisfaction of preparing it himself.

His newfound companion, Archie (he gave the name last night), the adorable male puppy, happily wagged his tail as Bucky set down a bowl of milk, cooing at the joyful scene.

Interrupting this peaceful morning, a knock echoed through the farmhouse, prompting Bucky to open the door and discover who awaited on the other side.

‘Knock, knock!’

Bucky opened the door to find a teenager holding a box. The young lad greeted Bucky warmly and extended the box filled with honey.

“Hi, I'm Tobey. I live with my grandparents, and Grandma asked me to bring these to you,” he explained.

Bucky gratefully accepted the gift, acknowledging the teenager's kindness and his grandparents' thoughtfulness.

As the exchange unfolded, a distinctive sound caught their attention—Archie, the puppy, chimed in with an enthusiastic "woof," adding a touch of canine charm to the moment.

Having finished his milk, Archie toddled over to Bucky with his tiny legs.

Bucky bent down, patting Archie gently. "Hey, Archie."

Tobey observed Archie with curiosity. "He looks..."

Setting down the box, Bucky scooped up the puppy and presented him to Tobey. "His name is Archie. I'm grateful I found him on my terrace. His cuteness made me forget my exhausting day."

Tobey's eyes welled with emotion, and Bucky quickly realized that the box he had brought was likely the same one Archie had been placed in.

"I'm sorry," Tobey admitted, his voice tinged with regret. "My grandparents only allow me to have one dog."

Tobey lowered his gaze, speaking softly, "When Archie's mother gave birth, he was the weakest among his siblings. No one wanted to take him."

Bucky questioned, "Why me?"

Tobey scratched his head, explaining, "Because I saw your car. I thought, this person must be rich. I can't afford to have another dog."

As Bucky looked at the teenager, he reflected on his life, where money was never a problem. Toby, on the other hand, had to let go of something he cherished. Bucky reassured him, "It's okay. I consider Archie as part of my family now."

Tobey visibly relaxed. "Thank you, and I'm sorry."

Bucky shook his head. "It's alright."

He allowed Toby to play with Archie whenever he wanted, realizing that it was a win-win situation for both Archie and Toby.

Then Bucky asked, "Do you know how to drive a tractor?"

Toby replied confidently, "Of course. Everyone around my age can drive it."

Bucky was pleasantly surprised. He then offered Toby a job, promising to pay him for assistance. With that, Bucky found someone to help him with the farm work.

Bucky's progress in planting the seeds had become significantly faster with Toby's help. With his easygoing personality, Toby became a popular addition to the video vlogs Bucky regularly created for his followers. Viewers liked the dynamic between the two, and Toby's presence brought a fresh energy to the content.

One day, as Bucky and Toby took a break, Y/N arrived with sandwiches and iced tea. In addition to the refreshments, she handed Bucky a weathered journal book that had once belonged to the farm's former owner. Y/N explained that it was a farm journal, a crucial resource for anyone working the land.

"By the way," Y/N added casually, her eyes fixed on her phone, "you've got cow, lamb, and chicken coming in. They'll be here in two hours."

With that information dropped, she swiftly left again, leaving Bucky and Toby slightly stunned. Bucky, who had just finished planting all the crops, now found himself unprepared for the arrival of livestock.

Bucky grumbled to himself, "What a cold woman."

But Toby interjected, "Y/N is really kind, you know? She's helped my grandparents a few times. She even drove them to the hospital when they needed it. That's why I'm saving up money to buy a car."

Bucky felt a twinge in his heart hearing about Y/N's selflessness. He gave Toby a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "You're a good grandson, looking out for your family like that. If there's anything I can do to help, let me know."

As they continued their conversation, Bucky realized there was more to Y/N than he initially perceived. Her kindness extended beyond the farm and, apparently, reached out to the broader community. Bucky found himself intrigued, and perhaps a bit curious, about the woman who seemed to be more than just a neighbor.

As Bucky flipped through the pages of the journal, he couldn't help but wonder about its history. The name "Jonathan L/N" caught his eye on the first page.

Toby, munching on his sandwich beside Bucky, also glanced at the page. "My grandfather mentioned that this land used to be owned by Y/N's great-great-grandfather."

The realization hit Bucky like a ton of bricks. The farm he was now cultivating once belonged to Y/N's family. Suddenly, her distant demeanor and occasional coldness toward him made sense. The land held sentimental value, and Bucky was now the outsider entrusted with its care. It was a responsibility he hadn't fully grasped until that moment.

Chapters: Chp 1, Chp 2, Chp 3 , Chp 4 , Chp 5 , Chp 6 , Chp 7

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Author Note: Hey everyone! 🌟 Your input means the world to me.

If you've got any cool ideas or prompts, whether for this fluff series or any other series, feel free to share them with me!

Just drop them in my ASK/SEND REQUEST box.

Can't wait to hear your awesome suggestions! 🚀💬

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - Fix You Part 3/10

Part 4 and 5 are out on my Patreon for Free!

Summary - Reader is hired as Ruben's assistant nurse after receiving head trauma during a football game. He has fallen into a deep depression on his road to recovery and does not accept much help from Reader as she only reminds him of how incapable he is.

Enjoy!

The weekend with Ruben went well. To your surprise he didn't give you much trouble. Nevertheless, you yearned for Max's return. However, you were surprised by the fact that he wasn't pleased with your work.

"Did you do anything on the list apart from giving Ruben his shots?"

"What do you mean?" You asked. He had barged into your room on Monday morning, crimson red in the face.

"Y/N, you're supposed to help with Ruben's exercises while I'm gone, how else is he supposed to get back to full fitness?"

You were left dumbfounded. Nevertheless, you felt guilty for being inadequate. Thankfully Max was a good guy, who really seemed to care for Ruben. He let you tag along for their walks that week, showing exactly what light exercises that were appropriate for someone in Ruben's position.

"The doctors say it's good exercise for his brain. But for someone with Ruben's background I want to make it a bit more of a challenge for him." Max walked  backwards ahead of you and Ruben. He carried two tennis balls in his hands, shouting, "On your left." and threw a ball to the left of Ruben.

Ruben then caught the ball with one hand and tossed it back to Max without having to pause his walking. Mind you that Ruben did this while blindfolded.

"On your right."

He caught the next ball too, with Max determined not to make it easy for him.

"On your left."

"On your left."

"Right."

"Right"

"Left."

It was a bizarre sight for anyone passing by, but for Max and Ruben it seemed to be a fun activity that they both enjoyed, exhausted by it in the end.

"One more time," Ruben said, still gasping for air.

"Nah, I think that's enough for today."

"Come on Max, throw them to me one more time. I can do it."

"Ruben." You said, voice concerned. He was not only struggling with his breathing, but his body shivered even though it was a pretty hot summer day.

"Let's take a seat." Max said and guided Ruben to one of the park benches. There you checked his heart rate by pressing a finger to his throat, feeling how his vein pulsated beneath you.

"I'm fine." Ruben grunted.

"Your heartbeat is above average." 

"So? We just did physical activity, it's normal."

"Maybe for a sixty year old."

"What did you call me?"

You mumbled the last words. "Ruben I just think you should take it easier the next time."

"Well you're not my physio, I'm not listening to you."

"I agree with Y/N." Max said, looking at you, nodding his head.

"Great, that's great. Are you happy now?" Ruben turned to you and for a moment you believed to see his lip quiver.

"I think it's time that we headed back." Max said, helping Ruben stand up from the bench. He seemed surprisingly disoriented, holding onto Max as you walked back home. The two of them disappeared into Ruben's room, leaving you clueless to what actually happened in the park. 

You had trouble sleeping that night, thinking about Ruben and how upset he got not being allowed to continue his physical activity. However, it was an odd thing to be upset about. Anyone in his condition would have welcomed rest, but not Ruben. And what was it Max said about Ruben's background? What did he use to do for a living before his accident?

You reached for the light beside your bed, pulling out your phone from your pillow. You googled the name Ruben Dias and was surprised to see a picture of Ruben pop up in the search bar before you even finished typing in all the letters.

"No fucking way...."

A loud thud from somewhere in the house almost made you drop your phone.

"Hello? Is anybody there?"

You slipped out of bed to check out the noise, but seeing as all the lights were off in the apartment, you immediately assumed the worst and grabbed a knife off the kitchen counter.

"I have a knife!" You announced, approaching the hallway where you thought the noise had come from.

"Oh, my God, Ruben."

He lay on the floor, half of his body inside of the bathroom.

"What happened?"

You fell onto your knees, pressing your hand to his face in search of wounds.

"Y/N?" He mumbled.

"Yes, yes, I'm here." You said, wondering if Ruben had been sleeping walking on his way to the toilet.

"Shit I can't see. Wait, let me turn on the light."

"No!"

You had gotten up from the bathroom floor, but was pulled back down by two strong arms.

"Ruben?"

"Please." He said. "Not the light, my eyes."

It was amazing how you hadn't noticed with your hands had been pressed to his face. Ruben wasn't wearing the bandage that covered his eyes. It made sense that he slept without it, nevertheless, you didn't expect to see him like this, his eyes big in the night, staring blankly at you like dark pearls from the depths of the sea.

"Ruben, I should go get Max." You said, quite mesmerized by his gaze. You could tell that he was trying to make out the contours of your face as it was his first time seeing you and you him.

"I'm fine." He said. "It's just my body...it gets like this sometimes."

"At least let me help you up from the floor." You tugged at his arms and were surprised to find him complying by lifting them up. You managed to get him on his knees, Ruben then draped his arm over your shoulders.

"Jesus, you weigh a ton."

"I take that as a complement."

"I'm sure you do."

You reached for the bathroom door, wanting to push it open, when Ruben nudged your body in the other direction.

"Y/N, I have to..."

"What?"

He looked over your shoulder, towards the toilet.

"I have to go."

"Oh."

As a nurse, the need to urinate should be a natural phenomenon to you. However, holding on to Ruben while he did it really challenged your training.

The warmth of his torso pressing against yours, along with the smell of him, it was all too much.

"I'm really sorry about this."

"Please stop talking" You pleaded.

Nothing could quite drown out the sound of flowing liquid hitting water. Although Ruben could be considered a gentleman for aiming at the side of the bowl to dim the noise. Nevertheless, this was happening, you were helping a grown man urinate, a man whose eyes were visible at night and wouldn't stop staring at your face as if the words "look at me" were written across your forehead.

"There, all done." He sighed.

"Great."

He went to wash his hands as you stood beside him in case he would fall. You then escorted him back to his bedroom, helping Ruben back into his bed.

"Thank you." He said, embarrassment in his tone. "I didn't mean for any of this. I thought I could make it to the bathroom on my own."

"It's okay, Ruben. It's a part of my job."

"Right, your job." He looked like he wanted to tell you something else, but ultimately changed his mind.

"I should go back to my room."

He nodded. " Of course, thank you Y/N."

"Goodnight, Ruben."

That night you went to bed dreaming about dark pearls from the depths of the sea. You went to bed dreaming about the most handsome pair of eyes you've ever seen.

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