#I’ve never felt hatred like I have for [redacted] and [redacted]

[carewyncromwell]

“I finished crying in the instant that you left, And I can't remember where or when or how, And I banished every memory you and I had ever made! But when you touch me like this, and you hold me like that, I just have to admit that it's all coming back to me... When I touch you like this, and I hold you like that, It's so hard to believe, but it's all coming back to me... It's all coming back -- it's all coming back to me now... There were moments of gold And there were flashes of light -- There were things I'd never do again, But then they'd always seemed right...”

~“It’s All Coming Back to Me,” by Celine Dion

x~x~x~x

AUGH, my heart! I blame this 100% on @mira-shard sending me that ship ask for my book-smart, people-dumb spaceman Jacob Cromwell and his boy best friend Duncan and reminding me how friggin’ much I adore these two. They hurt my heart so much and yet I love them with all of my heart and soul. ;~;

This is set toward the end of Carewyn’s sixth year, right after that certain Redacted event. This is also the first time these two have seen each other since Duncan died...and yeah, as you can expect, their reunion was pretty damn feelsy.

Jacob Cromwell had been working hard on his own almost all of that school year to reach the Sunken Vault before Rakepick, but after finding out that R was still actively targeting Carewyn by sending members like the Wizard in White after her, he became all the more determined to try to force them away from the Hogwarts grounds. Unfortunately for Jacob, R was one step ahead of him. Using the blood they’d managed to collect after badly injuring Jacob the previous year, they had Blaise Cromwell use Polyjuice Potion to masquerade as his nephew and sneak into the school so as to have access to his niece Carewyn, who R’s leader (Jacob and Carewyn’s cold-hearted maternal grandfather Charles Cromwell) ultimately wanted among their ranks as well.

While masquerading as Jacob, Blaise learned Carewyn was still planning on chasing after the Vaults, with the blessing of Mad-Eye Moody, who was currently investigating R himself, and after putting on a weak act of discouraging her, he “accepted her help” and subtly encouraged her to not tell her friends anything else about the Vaults, supposedly for “their safety,” but truthfully because Blaise didn’t want Carewyn to have ties anywhere outside of their family and organization. Blaise did suss out, however, that there were a few people in Carewyn’s circle of associates who were reluctant to leave the Cursed Vaults alone and “stay out of R’s business,” including Ben Copper, who Blaise in particular felt a searing distaste for, given that he was not only a “filthy Mudblood,” but he also was one of Carewyn’s first friends who was incredibly overprotective of her. After Blaise discussed the matter with his father Charles, it was decided that R should “deal” with Ben Copper the same way R had dealt with Duncan Ashe -- namely, to make an example out of him, which would not only scare Carewyn into line, but also take out a potential threat to their overall plan to isolate their target so they’d have no one else to fall back on.

Just as they had whenever Blaise infiltrated the school, R purposefully led Jacob away from the grounds, this time with the Wizard in White as a decoy. Since the Wizard had recently threatened Carewyn’s life, Jacob immediately charged after him with a vengeance, determined to hunt him down and kill him so that he’d never touch “his Pip” again. Unfortunately after several weeks of doggedly pursuing the Wizard in White all across London, he escaped, and Jacob in utter frustration was forced to return to Hogwarts and continue trying to access the Sunken Vault, even if he knew no way to do so without both of the Coral Keys that unlocked the outer and inner doors. It was only when Jacob returned to Scotland that he learned Rakepick had returned to Hogwarts the day he first left and had killed someone in the Forbidden Forest -- and it was a few days later, late at night, that Jacob was confronted by a familiar voice in the Lakehouse that was his hiding place. 

“So you are here, then.”

Jacob’s heart stopped. Whipping out his white Aspen wand, the ex-Ravenclaw whirled around so violently that he nearly knocked over the overturned boat on the floor behind him.

Hovering over him was a translucent shape of a seventeen-year old wizard. He wore Hogwarts robes, but due to the bluish-gray tint of his form, the uniform’s house colors weren’t identifiable. Not that Jacob would’ve needed to try to guess what house he’d been in -- he already knew the young man was in Slytherin. Jacob had gone to talk to him in their very first year all because he was a Slytherin and could answer that random question Jacob had had about the Slytherin commonroom...

Jacob’s almond-shaped blue eyes went very wide, losing almost all of their light, as his face blanched.

“...Ashe...?”

His voice left his lips in such a hushed whisper, it was like the breath had passed his lips without any diction whatsoever.

Duncan crossed his arms moodily. “Long time no see, Jacob. I’m curious -- did your sister just not tell you I was still around, or did you actively decide I wasn’t worth a visit?”

Jacob’s blue eyes flooded with pain as he shakily lowered his wand arm.

“Ashe...” he whispered again feebly.

The facial reaction didn’t move Duncan -- instead he plowed on.

“I mean, Hell, apparently Madame Pince even managed to catch sight of you before I did. Suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, though...you always did run to books for all your answers, rather than use any common sense -- ”

Jacob did not know what Duncan was talking about, but in that moment, he had trouble articulating that on top of everything else he was feeling. It felt like his heart had swollen up in his chest and was slamming up against his ribs, throbbing with pulsing pain as he clumsily tucked his wand back into his robes.

“Ashe...” he tried again, but it was no use. His throat was so tight, it was like it was being squeezed...

“Then again,” laughed Duncan humorlessly, “‘common sense’ was never exactly common for you, was it? Nor was tact, patience, humility, sensitivity, or even a shred of self-control -- ”

“Ashe -- ”

“I mean, if I’d abandoned the precious little sister who I’d never bloody shut up about for seven years,” said Duncan in a very harsh, cutting voice, “I probably wouldn’t have immediately abandoned her again and only bothered checking in with her after finding out that someone might want to kill her because of me! You kept saying to me, ‘I gotta protect Pip,’ ‘I’ve gotta take care of Carewyn’ -- well, where the Hell were you, Jacob? Where were you this last month!? Where were you after she broke you out of that Vault!? Where were you, when I had to pick up your slack?! Just like I always do -- just like I’ve always done, ever since you waltzed your way into my -- !?”

“Ashe!”

The surname came out oddly choked. Duncan looked Jacob in the face fully for the first time, and immediately faltered.

The ex-Ravenclaw had hunched in on himself in the face of Duncan’s tirade. His hollowed-out blue eyes were very weak and rippling with moisture that he fiercely fought back. Although his shoulders hadn’t crumpled, they were shaking, as were his hands as they clutched at the sleeves of his elegant scarlet dress robes. His...very familiar scarlet dress robes...

Something twitched in Duncan’s expression.

“Ashe...you...” Jacob gave a very painful-looking swallow. “...You’re here.”

Duncan tried to glower at him. “Well spotted.”

He hated how much Jacob was shaking, and how it looked like he was fighting back tears. Jacob didn’t respond to Duncan’s sarcasm -- he appeared unable to.

“You’ve...been here all this time...all these years...you stayed behind?”

His voice was very quiet. He clutched at the sleeves of his dress robes.

“I thought you’d gone on!” Jacob burst out, his voice very strained. “I thought -- you’d left...”

“Well, clearly I didn’t!” Duncan shot back, more defensively that he’d intended. He didn’t like seeing Jacob like this -- didn’t like seeing him so upset -- didn’t like how...his voice echoed with something like remorse...longing...

Jacob’s hands shook more as he squeezed his arms in a vice grip, staring at Duncan as if he were a faded photograph he hadn’t seen in years and wished to carve into his memory before it became too damaged to salvage.

“When I was in the Portrait, I spent days and weeks wishing I could have just one more minute with you -- maybe fifteen, or thirty, just -- enough time to tell you every little thing I never did before...”

Jacob seemed unable to finish. He broke off, his head falling so that his eyes fell into shadow.

“...But -- but knowing you are here -- that you’re here like this...after I couldn’t save you, after R targeted us -- ”

Duncan flinched. The pain and self-hatred in Jacob’s eyes -- it looked just like the kind he’d seen in another pair of blue almond-shaped eyes not too long ago, in response to her having lost her best friend. At the time Duncan had briefly wondered if Jacob had reacted as badly to his death as Carewyn did Rowan Khanna’s, but had pushed off the thought. It was something he couldn’t believe -- didn’t want to believe.

“Ashe...” Jacob murmured. His voice had become rather level and absent, as it always was when he was thinking, even though the clenched hands on his arms were still shaking terribly, “Ashe, I’ve been such a fool...I don’t know how I never saw it before...how much I cared, how much I wanted you -- wanted us to...be an ‘us’...to swoop in and just...take you home to Pip and Mum, and...be a family together -- to break curses and travel the world and get into fights and then kiss and make up and get into trouble and then out of it again and laugh a lot and do stupid stuff and change the world and...maybe, I dunno, adopt some kids down the road or something -- I’d probably be a pretty lousy father, and we could’ve completely fallen apart, and the whole thing could’ve ended up being a mistake, but...thinking on it, all those years...all I could come back to over and over again was hating not knowing -- not knowing if we could’ve been happy together, if...well, even if we were a disaster, at least we still could’ve been something -- had something -- ”

Duncan felt a familiar burning sensation in the back of eyes, and it made him lash out.

“GET BENT, JACOB CROMWELL!”

Jacob’s head shot up, taken aback. Duncan held up a clenched fist as if he longed to punch Jacob right in the face.

“I’m mad at you!” shouted Duncan. “I’m allowed to be mad at you! After every mistake you made, for every bloody mistake you’re still making and will no doubt make for the rest of your sodding life, I should be mad at you! You never bloody learn and you always dash headlong into situations without using that brilliant brain of yours to think twice! And yet you...”

Duncan’s eyes were filling up with tears.

“You...you’re making it bloody impossible! I want to yell at you! I want to hate you! I want to know you never cared and I was a fool for ever wasting my time on you, because otherwise my whole reason for staying behind -- ”

The thought hurt Duncan too much, and he furiously shoved the end of that sentence away.

“I want to resent you for the rest of my undead days, and yet there you go, looking like that and rambling on like an idiot and...and...”

A tear leaked out the side of his eye. Despite the anger in his expression, Duncan was shaking too now. His other hand tentatively rose, hovering just shy of Jacob’s pale face as if he longed to touch it.

“...and...making me fall for you all over again,” choked Duncan, his voice very low and muffled in the back of his throat.

Jacob looked like he too was fighting back the urge to try to touch Duncan as he stared up into his light-less eyes. Like the rest of him, there was a tint of ghostly blueish-gray to them, even though they’d been such a warm, bright brown in life.

“Ashe...”

“Jacob, for the love of -- stop saying my name like that! I told you I’m mad at you!”

Even as he said it, Duncan’s transparent fingers grazed Jacob’s face, making Jacob shiver slightly at the cold as it passed through his skin.

“...Why?” said Duncan softly.

“What?”

“My robes,” Duncan clarified. “You kept them.”

Jacob’s eyes pulsed with emotion, both pained and almost offended.

“Well, of course I kept them,” he retorted hotly. “You gave them to me. Did you assume I’d just stick them in the back of my closet?”

“Sort of,” said Duncan a bit awkwardly.

Jacob’s face actually flickered with some righteous anger. “Because you wanted to believe I didn’t care?”

“Don’t turn this around on me!” Duncan shot back defensively. “What was I supposed to think, after you disappeared without a trace -- after all of the things I heard about you doing R’s dirty work -- ?”

“You KNEW R forced me to join them!” shouted Jacob. “You KNEW what they had over me -- what they almost did to Pip! You KNEW I would never, ever abandon Pip and Mum by my own choice -- ”

“I KNOW!” Duncan said fiercely.

The transparent hand that had been beside Jacob’s face clasped weakly at the air beside his hair, as if he longed to grab hold of it.

“...I know...” he said in a more hushed, strained voice.

Jacob’s blue eyes were still blazing with mild frustration.

“Ashe, I wore these robes for you, the night I went to the Portrait Vault,” he said lowly.

Duncan was startled.

“I wanted you with me, when I broke the last two Vaults’ curses -- when I saved Olivia...”

Jacob’s gaze betrayed a strange, almost beastly glint -- like vengeance, but much darker and more hostile.

“I wanted you with me when I demolished R and everything they’ve ever wanted and chased after. I still do. I want to make every last one of them pay for everything they took from me -- everyone they took from me.”

Duncan stared at Jacob, his expression strained with disbelief and something oddly touched.

“Jacob...”

He once again looked like he wanted to touch Jacob’s face, to trail his fingers through his dark curls. His light-less eyes fell away from Jacob’s and came down to rest on his lips instead.

“...You know I can’t help you do much of anything, like this.”

Jacob’s expression turned a bit more serious. “There is one thing you can do for me -- make sure Pip doesn’t leave the castle again. I heard Rakepick killed someone in the Forbidden Forest -- I can’t let her do the same to -- ”

“You can’t shield Carewyn from R, Jacob,” said Duncan very sharply.

“I can and I will,” spat Jacob fiercely.

Duncan’s lips came together very tightly.

“Do you know who that person was?” the ghost said very lowly. “The one Rakepick killed?”

Jacob’s expression lost some of its anger, seeing how oddly grave Duncan’s expression had become.

“Her name was Rowan Khanna,” said Duncan. “Sixth year Slytherin, supposedly in the running to be Hogwarts Head Girl. ...She’s also your sister’s best friend.”

Jacob’s eyes went very, very wide in horror.

“...No...”

His head fell. His eyes stared down at the floor, but didn’t seem to see it -- his mind was racing, unable to keep up with the horror of this news.

“Carewyn was lured out to the Forest after finding a Quill addressed to you in your old room,” Duncan told him sharply. “Three of her friends followed her and tried to protect her when Rakepick confronted her there.” Duncan’s voice lowered significantly as he added, “....She’d been sent with orders from R to kill one of your sister’s friends -- to send a message.”

Jacob once again clutched at his own arms, his flurry of thoughts darting across his eyes as he stared at the floor.

“They played me,” he whispered. “They knew I wanted to protect Pip -- so they sent the Wizard in White to attack her at the Lakeshore, so I’d fear him going after her...so I’d chase after him to try to stop him, even if it meant leaving Pip alone...”

His head shot up, and his eyes were narrowed in urgency and confusion.

“You said there was a message for me, in my room? Pip found my room?”

“A few years ago, I believe,” said Duncan. “I reckon it would’ve been a logical place to look, if she wanted to figure out what the hell you were up to, before you vanished...if she could even have found anything, in that absolute mess you always worked out of -- ”

“But why would there have been a message for me there?” said Jacob, his eyebrows knitting together. “I haven’t gone in there since I was expelled...”

Duncan frowned. “Well, R might’ve heard about you going into the Library...”

“But that’s just it!” said Jacob. “I didn’t! I haven’t entered the school since I left! It’s not exactly easy to break into Hogwarts -- and if I did and got caught, then where would I be, in protecting Pip and stopping R? I can’t let them get into the Sunken Vault first!”

Duncan suddenly looked almost as troubled as Jacob.

“...So...you haven’t entered Hogwarts at all? But...then why did Pince and Filch see you inside?”

A thought struck his mind.

“...Jacob...when was the last time you spoke to your sister? Not just saw her, I mean, really spoke to her.”

Jacob frowned deeply. “Last year, in Knockturn Alley. Though we didn’t really have much time to talk then, either...”

Duncan’s eyes narrowed in anxiety. “Jacob...Carewyn told her friends that you ‘don’t tell her much, whenever you meet.’ That doesn’t sound like something that someone would say after only seeing her brother once in an entire school year. It sounds like someone who’s been meeting him regularly.”

Jacob stiffened visibly. His eyebrows furrowed over his eyes as they wandered over the walls and floor.

“Something’s not right,” he said lowly.

He turned on his heel, whipping out his white wand as he went.

“I need to find out what’s going on. Ashe...while I’m gone, please -- ”

“Jacob, stop.”

Duncan swept right through Jacob, making the smaller man shudder. The ghost hovered over Jacob, his translucent robes flapping silently on either side of him.

“Before you go running off  without thinking again,” said Duncan sardonically, “talk to your sister.”

Jacob looked hesitant and slightly ashamed.

“I need to protect her -- ”

“No, you need to be there for her,” Duncan cut him off fiercely. “She’s just lost the first real friend she ever made in her life -- someone she cares about like few others. There’s only one person in this entire world who might know what that’s like...”

Duncan swallowed back the lump in his throat.

“...If you...truly cared, when I died, Jacob...then you’re the only person who might know what she needs, right now.”

Jacob closed his eyes and turned away, unable to reply. His fist clenched over the Aspen wand at his side.

“...Does she hate me?” he asked at last, very lowly. “Does she blame me...for what happened?”

Duncan’s eyes softened slightly. “You know she doesn’t.”

This didn’t seem to comfort Jacob, though. If anything, it made him more upset -- like he thought she should blame him.

Duncan exhaled heavily. “Jacob, please -- I know you want to protect Carewyn, and I know there’s not much time to stop R from reaching the Sunken Vault...but...”

A strange wry smile pricked at the corner of his lips.

“...if there’s one thing your sister has taught me...it’s how much knowing that someone cares -- that you’re not alone -- can mean.”

Jacob’s posture straightened slightly.

“She’s shouldered a lot by herself since you left, Jacob,” said Duncan. “Her friends are trying to help her with it now...but I think the help she really needs is yours.”

Jacob was silent for another long moment. Then he turned just enough to look at Duncan over his shoulder -- his lips had curled up in a crooked, sad smile.

“...You really did look after my Pip for me.”

Duncan gave a loud huff and crossed his arms. “It’s not like I could’ve not picked up your slack.”

His expression betrayed a bit more seriousness as he added, “...She’s a fine lass, Jacob.”

Jacob’s eyes squinted almost fondly. “She is.”

The smile then slid off his face.

“If Pip wants to see me, just...tell her to go out toward the Lake after dark and shoot up red sparks. I’ll come running right out to her. ...Will you tell her that, for me?”

Duncan nodded. “Of course.”

“Thank you. And Ashe?”

“Yeah?”

Jacob swallowed.

“You know how I feel about you...right?”

Duncan’s expression turned rather snarky. “Of course I do. You kept me around so you’d have someone to show off to.”

Jacob immediately looked irritated, and Duncan quickly added in exasperation, “Oh, come on, you know I know! Just...”

His transparent cheeks darkened with a dark blue flush as he glanced away out the side of his eye.

“Just...say it anyway.”

Jacob’s expression cleared, slowly breaking out into a bright grin that made him look years younger.

“...I love you.”

Duncan closed his eyes, inhaling and exhaling slowly through his nose.

“I have for a while,” Jacob pressed on, “dunno really how long, but...”

“All right, that’ll do,” Duncan said under his breath brusquely, despite the dark flush still clinging to his face. “I love you too -- so don’t go off and get yourself killed too, all right?”

With this, Duncan swept right past Jacob, brushing through his hair as he disappeared through the Lakehouse’s wall and back toward the school.

[bearseokie]

you fight with a fan | Got7 Reaction

request: could I request like a got7 reaction of you fighting a fan ( but like they don't see it until it's posted) or something like that, thanks!

[warnings]: angsty!, the scenario varies on them getting hate, so read with caution bc it's a bit painful

A/N: this one kind of hurt to write, but the examples given in this reaction are common occurrences. if you witness hate online, please report the comments/accounts and do not interact with them. don't feed negative words with negative actions, please.

got7 m.list | navi.

Mark:

Mark was equipped with sly comments that would ease tension, but when someone began to fill his stream chat with negative comments, he was growing frustrated. It was the worst experience having to sit back and watch his eyes glance over them trying to find other comments, ones he could read out loud.

Fans were furious, attempting to yell at the person. Mark said a simple "Just report them." but it didn't work fast enough. The session turned into a pit, everyone arguing and upset, Mark unable to gain control so he kindly gave his wishes and ended the stream.

People that had witnessed the cold words took them to social media, a trending topic soon arising. It took all of your might to type out your own post about it, stating that you wish for kindness only towards Mark and that the person passing around the negativity should understand how much damage they could do.

Mark was reading over your words with tired eyes, looking up at you seated beside him as his arm wrapped around you.

"Thank you for having my back." he smiled. "But this is just how the world is sometimes."

Jaebeom:

Sitting in the car waiting, a group of people walked by and recognized Jaebeom. Instead of having a polite approach, they called out to him through the opened window, yelling cruel things about him. Jaebeom shook his head, slowly rolling up the window before giving you a sad glance.

"I wish they would keep those words to themselves." his frown was distinct, forehead creased as he pressed his elbow against the arm of the seat.

The group stood there, obviously still targeting him though he couldn’t hear what they were saying. Your blood was boiling, gaining the courage to roll down your own window, telling them to knock it off. Seeming less threatened than when Jaebeom gave his reaction, they only laughed, Jaebeom's finger clicking your window button as it rolled back up.

Taking your hand in his, the pad of his thumb ran over the back. "There's nothing we can do about that," he said, sighing. "Well, we could drive away."

Jackson:

You had grown used to Jackson receiving hate, online and in person. Though they were rare, you saw the repercussions. The man that could hold a smile on his face during the harsh words spoken to and about him was the same man you'd find crying to himself saying "I need to work harder."

You had patience for people, just as he did, understanding that everyone has an opinion, but when the same comments began to flood onto your personal social media, you had to speak up. Going beneath one of the comments, you wrote what you felt.

But you were only fanning the flame.

"Did you say these things?" Jackson confronted you with tears in his eyes, slightly disappointed.

You explained how they began to target him through you, and that you had the right to defend both of you, but Jackson didn't like the way you went about it. Running a hand through his hair, he stifled a breath as he sat across from you at the dining table, thinking.

"It never goes away, you eventually just have to get used to it. But that doesn't mean you have to look at them."

Jinyoung:

Jinyoung was already disappointed when he stepped through the door, gliding your chair at the counter back so you could look him directly in the eye.

"Your comments were out of hand." he started. "I read things like that all the time, and I even tell you about them, but that doesn't mean you should respond to them. We have rules about these things. The company handles them."

Your expression was shocked, words fumbled as you told him the company didn't do a very good job and censoring the hate comments, so you decided to speak out.

"You're not in the position to do that. At least not for me. Please, if you see things like that again, ignore them."

You didn't understand how he, or any of the guys, manage to sweep such comments under the rug. The constant pull of who deserves to be in the group and who doesn't shattered your heart, tears slipping down your face when you thought over what had been said.

"Look," he said, taking a seat in front of you and putting his hand over yours in comfort. "I know you were just trying to help. But there are professional ways of handling hatred, and I have to take the steps no matter what. Even if I react like you are now, that doesn't mean I can type a long paragraph to everyone that says anything about me."

Youngjae:

Youngjae had seen the confrontation you had with a fan that didn't like him, your words respectful while theirs were bleak. He had rushed home to you after work, finding you sat on the couch going about your business as if nothing happened.

"I know you're upset, but we need to talk about this," he said, taking a seat beside you and requesting your full attention. "It's hard to just walk away from someone that is spouting negativity. Your response was the right thing to say, but it still shouldn't have been said. It would have been more effective if you had just walked away."

You pouted, knowing he had a point. Nodding, he smiled, placing his hands on either sides of your face while squishing you.

"At least you weren't mean about it. I've seen some of the backlash that people posting hate comments get, and sometimes they're even worse than what the original person said. If I could redact all the hate in the world, I would."

BamBam:

It wasn't unnatural for fans to find BamBam out in the open, and while respectful, some managed to cross the personal barrier. A fan had gotten too close, and without security around, he had to fend for himself. After you politely asked them to step back a handful of times while only receiving dirty looks, they snapped at you.

"Why don't we just calm down," BamBam said softly, raising his hand towards your back to calm you. "It was really nice meeting you, but we have to leave now or else we'll be late."

The person stepped back that time, watching as he guided you towards the exit. He wore an aggravated expression, only it was appointed at you. You sighed, feeling bad that you reacted in the way you did, which could have been handled better.

"You don't have to get passive with my fans," he stated, eyeing you from the side. "They're just excited, they don't mean to do anything irrational."

Yugyeom:

You were crying, sat on your shared bed as Yugyeom made it into the bedroom after practice. He had seen your comments back towards the negative words shared under his latest Instagram post and immediately knew that you had to be truly upset by what they said to write back.

It was nothing harmful, the person's comment about how Yugyeom needs to work harder, but it upset you to your core. Your response was that Yugyeom was putting his best effort into everything, a comment that made Yugyeom, himself, heartbroken.

"Hey," he said, bending down beside you to wipe away the tears staining your cheeks. "It's just one comment, okay? Everything's fine. I know not to listen to them. But more will come in the future, so we have to keep a hard shell for when they do."

[mint-yooxgi]

Just woke up and afgagdhhdhsndj- YOU BIAS COUPS TOO?!?! 💕🛐💞 I LEGIT WROTE SEUNGCHEOL AND MINGYU BEFORE CHANGING IT TO JEONGHAN AND MYUNGHO because i thought you liked the quiet ones. Anways, i couldn’t write stuff for seungcheol cause hes my ult and i get flustered if its him 👉👈 any blog recommendations for yan seventeen content? TW: mentions of blood. Hehe went overboard again 🤧✨

Yan! Mingyu would be that local hero that everyone knows and loves. He always was such a kind hearted soul, always the towns favorite man and always saw the good in everybody. You probably came to his town one day to have a change of scenery from the city, and surprise suprise, theres also a bunch of corrupt rich people to ransack here. You first met him when you decided to explode a vault diguised as a “house” containing the secret stash of some rich guy. He was surprised, he didn’t usually had any real villains to take care of in town so this was new. Not knowing what to do and not wanting to hurt you, he tried to reason with you first to put the money back. You said no. You’d be dammed if you let another rich asshole to corrupt this beautiful town down to poverty and not getting any profit or say in it. With that, its like you opened his eyes to a whole new perspective, flustering him. You scoffed and smiled at his reaction and said “you’re new to this huh” with that you left. He never tried to stop you after that but still did his regular hero duties, you were just….a special exemption. As time passed on you and him were actually on good terms with each other, even hanging out sometimes. He fell willingly, even if he was losing the town’s favor. Though, you did mention to him you were gonna leave soon to go back to the city, well that stressed him out. Thats were it all went to shit, one day he was asked by the corrupt ones to kill get rid of you. With the added stress of you leaving and the audacity of them to even suggest this, he went berserk and killed them. Concerned of his whereabouts you found him at the carnage, you were absolutely shocked by the scene, he didn’t look like the overgrown hero puppy you knew. There stood before you was a man soaked in blood, for someone so soft, you’ve never seen him hold such hatred in eyes. Then he saw you, crazed and distressed he bawled at your feet saying he didn’t mean it and begging you to not leave him, take him with you, to hell with this town if it meant not having you. Now what were you to do in this predicament? all you know is he wasn’t as harmless as he seemed and his grip felt a little too tight, eyes a little too crazed. But thats a normal reaction to this situation …..right?

I do!!! He’s such a cutie, and him and me are similar in that I’ll koala myself into people and give them big hugs lmaooo and omg I completely get that!!! [redacted] makes me feel like that sometimes Lmaoo especially when I read/write stuff for him. And omg I wish I did, I’ve kinda stopped looking for Yandere content just cause I find so much of it nowadays is either extremely violent/always manipulative/or has some kind of dubcon/no con which doesn’t tickle my pickle so my apologies!! Anywho...

Ah yes, my beloved mango!!!! It’s always the nice, quiet ones you have to look out for 👀

I’m always a sucker for the final breaking point type trope where they go berserk in the end, so hell yeah, and omg the horror that would fill his face when he realizes what he’s done, until he starts to reason with himself that it’s worth it just to get you to stay, it had to happen this way

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Is It Really THAT Bad?

I’m going to warn you all now. This one is going to get a bit angry at the end. Normally I would try and remain as professional as possible, but in this case, I don’t feel like I would be able to.

Batman & Robin is a film that has lived in infamy since its release in 1997. Upon release, it was critically reviled, and this hatred of the film continued long into the modern day, where it frequently tops “worst films of all time lists” to the point where it actually is listed on the Wikipedia page for “List of films considered the worst.” It was nominated for at least 11 Razzies but only won a single one, and it went on to be a frequent punching bag on the {REDACTED] Critic’s web show, where he would get irrationally angry at the mere mention of the Bat Credit Card. In contemporary reviews, Mick LaSalle of The San Francisco Chronicle stated “"George Clooney is the big zero of the film, and should go down in history as the George Lazenby of the series,” which is less of a criticism and more of a compliment, if I’m being totally honest.

Most of the stars would take a negative stance towards it as well, with legend stating that if you tell George Clooney that you saw the film in theaters, he will refund you for your ticket out of his own pocket. Chris O’Donnell likewise is not particularly fond of the film, stating "It just felt like everything got a little soft the second time. On Batman Forever, I felt like I was making a movie. The second time, I felt like I was making a kid's toy commercial." And, perhaps most depressingly, Joel Schumacher himself was apparently very apologetic for the film, though this may or may not have come about because of years and years of vitriol being directed at him for making this film.

In the wake of Mr. Schumacher’s passing, I decided to re-watch the film, as I am famously rather fond of it, and I am going to tell you all why the answer to the question “Is it really THAT bad?” is a loud, resounding, NO.

THE GOOD

There’s honestly quite a lot to like here, more than you might think. I think first and foremost what you need to understand going in is that this is a silly, cartoonish take on the Burton style, blending the silliness and camp of the West series with the drama and aesthetics of the Burton films, all while adding some over-the-top, colorful flair. John Glover, who appears in the film as a cartoonish mad scientist, even has gone on record as saying "Joel would sit on a crane with a megaphone and yell before each take, 'Remember, everyone, this is a cartoon'. It was hard to act because that kind of set the tone for the film”… the last sentence makes the statement very baffling, but at least even the actors were aware of what they were doing. If this doesn’t sound appealing, well, the opening is sure to warn you off, as it is a suiting up montage with various shots of the firm butts, large codpieces, and stiff batnipples of the Dynamic Duo. The movie is very upfront about what you’re in for.

On the subject of the infamous batnipples, Schumacher stated "I had no idea that putting nipples on the Batsuit and Robin suit were going to spark international headlines. The bodies of the suits come from Ancient Greek statues, which display perfect bodies. They are anatomically correct." It seems a very odd choice, but it’s pretty clear that he meant it as an amusing little design choice and nothing more. Of course, this hasn’t stopped everyone and their mother from spewing homophobic comments about how he was purposefully making the film gayer, even from star George Clooney, who has said that he played Batman as a gay man and was told by Schumacher Batman is gay. It’s so disgusting that people did and continue to do this, because honestly, the costumes are fine, and even if they are meant to be fanservice… so what? O’Donell and Clooney’s asses look nice, as does Alicia Silverstone’s when she dons a suit. The fact hers is just as form-fitting as the other two really shows that the whole idea Schumacher did it because he was gay is ridiculous; the man was very egalitarian about the fanservice in the movie.

Whatever else Clooney says, he does a pretty great job as Batman and Bruce Wayne. His speech at the end of the film where he talks to Mr. Freeze and reminds him that he is a good man and offers to help him is honestly one of the few moments in any Batman film where Batman actually feels like the one from the animated series, a man who fights crime but also wants to help the people he’s trying to stop. Clooney just has a very natural charisma that lends himself to playing a hero, and while there are a few awkward moments in the performance, he captures the fun and charm a more lighthearted Batman should. Michael Gough’s last turn as Alfred is also surprisingly poignant, and a lot of mileage is gotten out of his genuinely tearjerking subplot.

Of course, the very best part of the film is the villains. Uma Thurman is clearly having a ball as Poison Ivy, and she gets to have a ludicrous amount of costumes as well as numerous moments of fanservice. She also has the power to turn every man around her into a simp, which is absolutely amazing and leads to quite a few scenes of Batman and Robin slapping each other over her. But f course, there’s really no doubt that the best part of the film is Mr. Freeze. He’s a combination of the sillier Mr. Freeze from the West days and the more modern take of the character most are familiar with, the tragic anti-villain who wants to save his wife; such a character would take a talented man capable of comedy and drama in equal measure. And who better than Arnold Schwarzenegger? Joel Schumacher wanted a man who looked like he was chiseled from a glacier, and Arnold certainly fits that description. He spends the movie juggling some of the most corny puns you can imagine and a lot of truly powerful, understated drama, and it really does work. You honestly get the sense that Arnold really gets Mr. Freeze and what makes him a great character. Also, that suit he has is amazing.

As a final note: the Bat Credit Card is absolutely not stupid. Linkara has defended it in the past, giving reasons why and how it could actually work, but really, all that needs to be said is… is this any more ridiculous than Shark Repellent Bat Spray?

THE BAD

So don’t get the wrong idea here; this film is far from perfect. As is the case with any comedy, the humor can be hit or miss; not all of the puns land, not all of the jokes are great. You’re never going to get a perfect comedy no matter how hard you try, and this is no exception.

As for performances, I think O’Donnell’s Robin and Silverstone’s Batgirl are a bit wonky. O'Donnell has long been a source of derision for his whining, and while I think the hate is a bit overblown, he does spend a ludicrous amount of time in this film being snippy, miserable, and arrogant. I think he actually fights with Batman more than any of the villains! Still, his performance isn’t horrible, he just gets a bit too whiny at a few points.

Silverstone is a bit of a bigger problem, but she’s not quite as bad as even I remembered. She’s pretty much Batgirl in name only, since she’s related to Alfred in this, but she’s mostly okay. The issue really is that her arc in the film is relatively bland and feels a bit shoehorned, which comes to a head where she fights Poison Ivy in a designated catfight, obviously because they didn’t want Batman to punch a woman in the face I guess. There’s just one issue with that:

On the subject of Ivy, while she definitely does have plant powers here, they’re strangely underplayed. She rarely uses them even when it would probably be beneficial, instead relying on Bane to do most of the fighting for her. Ah, Bane… Bane is one of the few things about this film I can’t really muster up any sort of defense for. While his creation scene is rather cool, it doesn’t lead to much of interest, as this version of Bane is pretty much a mindless supersoldier lackey who serves Poison Ivy. Now, this was still relatively early in Bane’s existence, as he had only debuted in 1993 and was really most famous for his signature “breaking the Bat” move, but it still is baffling why, with that famous thing fresh in everyone’s minds, that they would just choose to go and basically make Bane into Evil Diet Captain America. Surely they could have either saved him for a sequel or utilized him in a way more befitting of the character? I think this Bane is kind of responsible for the negative perception of Bane as this big, dumb bruiser, something that works like The Dark Knight Rises and Arkham Origins have thankfully gone a long way to rectifying. Bane is at his best when he’s a cunning genius bruiser; here, he’s nothing but a glorified prop.

Is It Really THAT Bad?

The answer is no. No it isn’t. AT ALL.

I’ve always felt this film came out at the wrong time. It was towards the end of the 90s, during the Dark Age of Comics when everything was dark, gritty, and edgy. The world didn’t want a movie like this back then; they wanted stuff like Blade, who would come in shortly after this film and show us how to make that aesthetic work. I guess in terms of Batman they wanted something more like Dawn of Justice, which really speaks volumes to how awful the 90s were for superheroes. 

Look, I’m not trying to convince anyone this is the greatest Batman film ever. Even I don’t think that; Batman Returns, The Dark Knight, and Under the Red Hood are all much better films. But is this really the worst Batman film now that we have the deeply misogynistic and disgusting The Killing Joke and the relentlessly bleak and unpleasant Batman v Superman? Hell, it’s not even worse than Batman Forever! At least the Batman in this film has some kind of emotional range beyond “plank of wood!” And even calling it the worst sequel ever is just… so baffling. Again, this is definitely better than Batman Forever, lack of Jim Carrey notwithstanding. And can you honestly look me in the eye and tell me that this is worse than any of the Terminator sequels after the second film? Worse than Iron Man 2 or Thor: The Dark World? The almost half dozen Alvin and the Chipmunk sequels? This is only the worst sequel or even a bad sequel if it is the only sequel you’ve ever seen in your life.

A lot of the hate for it from back in the day carries a strong undercurrent of homophobia. Much like the infamous backlash against disco, it’s seriously uncomfortable, and it definitely is cruel how accusatory people were towards Schumacher’s intentions for the suits of the heroes in the film. The fact that even the two main stars have gotten in on it is a bit disgusting, though O’Donnell questioning why there needed to be a codpiece is certainly less offensive than George Clooney saying he played Batman as a gay man for… whatever reason. Was he implying that Batman being gay made the movie worse? I’m not sure what he’s on about there. Even The New Batman Adventures made a cruel dig at the film; notice the sign and the effeminate-looking boy. You could only get homophobia this good in the 90s!

The hatred of this film is absolutely overblown. It’s so ridiculous. #70 on the bottom rated movies of IMDB? #1 on the 50 worst films of all time list from Empire? Doug Walker’s personal punching bag whenever he needs to talk about a bad sequel, to the point where he literally said no one wanted a comedic take on Batman in his worst sequels video? Come the fuck on.

Joel Schumacher may or may not have ended up hating this film, but he certainly was made to feel like shit for making it… and it is honest to god not that bad! But he was just absolutely eviscerated, to the point where this was a fucking headline when he died:

Literally fuck all of these people. Fuck io9 for their insensitive headline. Fuck Empire for rating this as the worst film ever. Fuck Doug Walker for his constant bashing and his shitty old “chimp out over the Bat Credit Card” gag. Double fuck Mick LaSalle for shitting on George Clooney’s performance while also trying to say George Lazenby’s Bond was bad. In fact, fuck George Clooney for his weird idea that playing Batman as gay is a bad thing (sorry George, but I can’t defend this). Fuck the Razzies. Yes, it was nominated, but I just feel it’s always a good time to say “Fuck the Razzies.”

I will never say you have to love or even like this film, but the sheer amount of vitriol and hatred for it is absolutely beyond me. At worst, this film is just a bit too goofy, and at best, it is a fun tribute to the campy days when Batman just couldn’t get rid of a bomb. I didn’t take off my score this time. I’m proud to say I gave this an 8/10, personally. If I’m being honest, a 6.6 – 6.9 is more appropriate, because it does have quite a few issues, but god, this film is not bad at all. It’s silly, goofy, campy, and fun… but bad? Not by any stretch of my imagination. And fuck the critics for convincing an entire generation that this is Batman at his worst, when we have Batman fucking slaughtering his ways through criminals and fucking Barbara Gordon on rooftops these days. I will always take stupid ice puns over misery, murder and creepy intergenerational sex, thank you very much.

I hope you can rest easy, Mr. Schumacher. Maybe you didn’t love your film in the end but, wherever you are, I hope you know I loved it.

[moveslikebuckywrites]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Good Omens (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Beelzebub & Satan | Lucifer (Good Omens) Characters: Beelzebub (Good Omens), Satan | Lucifer (Good Omens) Additional Tags: Angst, The Fall (Good Omens), Gabriel and Raphael are also there slightly, implied Crowley was Raphael but not necessarily, They/Them Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens), I didn't want to come up with an angel name so their angel name is [Redacted]

Part two of the gift fics!  This time for @tieflingbeelzebub (I'll tag that since that’s their Good Omens specific blog)!  They wanted some Beelzebub set to Disquiet by Unreqvited, which is a really cool instrumental!  So here’s my attempt at a character study on Beelzebub before and directly after the fall!

---

Buzzing.

Such a pleasant sound.  The sound of their children.

[Redacted] loved her creations.  From the smallest ant to the birdwing moths.

For some, it would be their job to help the plants, to spread the pollen that would let flora multiply and cover the new planet.  To sustain the almighty’s new creation with things called ‘fruit’ and ‘vegetables’ and ‘grains’.  And it would all be thanks to her children.

Others would be that sustenance, for other beings created by other angels.  This made [Redacted] sad, but it was only the circle of life.  Their purpose was to feed the smaller beings, which would feed larger beings, who would feed even larger beings, and so on.  In this way, things would become balanced.  And there at the start, their children.

[Redacted]’s favorite children shone like precious jewels, in all the colors of the universe.  They spread bright shimmery wings and sparkled in the sunlight on the new world.  They loved them so much, they shed their white feathers in favor of the brilliant oranges and deep blacks of the monarch butterfly.  Six translucent amber wings catching the rays of sunlight and casting patterns around them.  A tribute to their beautiful children to carry with them always.

Gabriel didn’t like them, but that was Gabriel’s problem.  He also didn’t like any of the foods some of the others were creating.  Said things were ‘gross’.  That never stopped him from hanging around, though [Redacted] wasn’t quite sure why.

As with most days, [Redacted] was tending to the insects in the garden.  Their beauties and their children.  The sun was setting, and the fading light glimmered in their monarch wings, casting faint orange shadows on the grass around them.  

They were singing.  To the houseflies and the honeybees, to the hornets and wasps.  To the butterflies, moths, and even the tiniest carpenter ants.  [Redacted] loved nothing more than to sing to their children, to inspire them to motion, to work, to thrive.

As they were watching the bees learn to dance, marveling at their spins and turns and how the transformed that into a language only bees could speak, they sensed a presence sneaking up on them was not that of the nosy archangel.

“My dear brother, Lucifer,” [Redacted] stood and smiled at the newcomer, “You don’t often visit me in the garden, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Dear [Redacted] my most favorite of siblings,” Lucifer said, holding his arms out wide and welcoming, “Is it not enough to visit you?  So rarely seen are you in Heaven anymore.”

“Well, there is much work to be done,” [Redacted] lifted their hand to a low hanging branch allowing a shimmery purple stag beetle to crawl onto their finger, “The Almighty says that my creations will outnumber even the stars in the sky.  There will be more of them on Earth than anything else, and they will play one of, if not the most, pivotal roles in how the Earth works.”

“More insects than stars?” Lucifer chuckled, “Don’t let Raphael find out, he might get upset.”

“Oh, I doubt it, his heart is far too kind,” [Redacted] cooed at the little beetle before depositing it back where it came from, “And you are deflecting, what brings you to the garden today?”

Lucifer shifted nervously from foot to foot, “It’s happening tonight, I need to know where you stand.”

[Redacted] froze and turned to face their brother.  The butterflies for which they modeled their wings flitted between them as a heavy silence fell in the air.

“Lucifer-“

“You know what I’ve told you, you know it’s true.” Lucifer stared them down, resolution evident in his eyes.

“We have to trust-“

“There is no more trust!” Lucifer exclaimed, grabbing [Redacted] by the shoulders.

“You don’t know that!” they replied, still steadfast.  The flight of the butterflies changed, and they flocked to [Redacted], landing on their shoulders, arms, and hair, “You don’t know that.”

“[Redacted] I am begging you, I cannot bear to see you hurt,” he reached out and gingerly ran a finger along one of the butterfly’s wings, “These creations, these humans, the Almighty will favor them, and we will all be cast aside.”

“That is not for us to understand, brother!  You know that as well as any!”

“She will not speak to us, won’t give us real answers!” He said, letting go of their shoulders and stalking a few feet away, “Just these continual tasks, one after the other, all for these…for these…creatures!”

“And then that is our purpose!”  This path was a dangerous road, [Redacted] was sure.  The Almighty had always had reasons, even if those reasons had not always been clear.

“It does not have to be!” Lucifer shouted before taking a few deep breaths and calming back down, “We only want answers, will you stand with us?”

[Redacted] considered this for a moment, noting the trembling in the butterflies perched upon them.

“And what says Raphael?” [Redacted] asked with trepidation.  

“He is with me, as you should know,” Lucifer turned back to them, “All our lives it’s been the three of us.  I cannot do this without you, [Redacted].”

[Redacted] took a deep breath, “And we are just seeking an audience?  To have our questions answered?”

“That is all, my dear sibling,” Lucifer said, extending a hand warmly.  Invitingly.

“I see,” [Redacted] said, turning to gaze out to the garden.  The bees flitted from flower to flower, the butterflies floated in the air, a mosquito hummed pleasantly in their ear.  They were filled with so much love for their children.  So much that they thought this must be the way the Almighty felt for Her creations.  Their questions would be answered, because God is love and thus loved them in turn, “well then, let us go speak to Her.”

[Redacted] took in the sight of the garden; the sounds and the smells.  The sun dipped fully below the horizon, and their beautiful fireflies danced in the air.  Tiny starlight flickers, fading in and out.  Despite their trust in both Lucifer and Raphael, they could not shake a feeling of foreboding.

They did not know this would be their last day in the garden.

---

The next events happened so quickly, [Redacted] had barely been able to process.

Lucifer, Raphael, and themselves had approached the throne room of the Almighty, seeking audience.  Gabriel, Uriel, and Michael had barred them from entry.  Raphael had shouted something about just needing to ask questions, and Lucifer had drawn his sword.

The last thing that [Redacted] could remember before plummeting through the clouds was thinking they saw tears in an archangel’s purple eyes.

They had crashed into a pool, blinding heat searing through to their bones.  They could feel their face bubble and blister with the burning heat.  They could hear one of their brothers screaming nearby, but could not tell which.  With a special kind of horror, they realized the creeping burning was working its way down their wings.  They screamed in pain, in anguish, and in hatred.

Their Grace was pulled out, tossed aside by the archangels.  On the Almighty’s own order, they had said.

[Redacted] fought through the pain and dragged themselves out of the scalding liquid, gasping for breath.  They thrashed and spread their wings, screaming again.  Their beautiful wings were no longer a brilliant and shimmering orange, but translucent.  Almost opalescent, catching the light of the fire in muted purples and blues.  

A familiar buzzing followed them.  Opening their eyes, they saw the humble houseflies.  Lowest of their children, but beloved all the same.  It gave them some comfort.  They grieved for the loss.  The loss of their grace, the loss of their wings, the loss of the garden and their beautiful children.

[Redacted] did not know how long they stayed there, crying and burning, before they sensed another approaching.

“Rise, my dear sibling,” Lucifer, skin burning red like volcanic rock, stood beside them, “we have much work to do.”

“Why,” [Redacted] cried out, “why would She do thizzz!”  They shook their head at the buzzing sound that left their throat, words catching on it and dragging it out unprompted, “And why can’t I remember my name?”

“I told you, we are replaceable,” Lucifer said, “We are the fallen now, we have been cast aside, for the simple want of being loved.  Our grace is burned out, and our names have been ripped away as well.”

[Redacted] gave up all pretense, burying their face in their hands and crying.

“Shh, my dear sibling,” Lucifer said, “there will be time for grief later, for now, we must plan.”

“Plan for what?” [Redacted] asked, trying to wipe the tears from their eyes

“For our revenge,” Lucifer smiled, his teeth now yellowed and sharp.  He extended a hand once again, “Rise, Lord Beelzebub, and take your rightful place by my side.”

As Beelzebub looked around, they saw other angels falling through the heavens.  Those who undoubtably took Lucifer’s side after the initial casting.  Anger welled inside of them at a God who could profess to love but be this vengeful.

Lord Beelzebub made their decision and took their brother’s hand and with it their place as Prince of Hell.

[feel199x]

to protect our district— 09

TO PROTECT OUR DISTRICT — CH. 09; THE DEVIL

I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX masterlist

♟ ceo!hwang hyunjin, mafia boss!hwang hyunjin, mafia!au

♟ summary: basically this vine

♟ warnings: trauma symptoms, minor character death, depictions of blood and fighting, angst, themes of sexism

♟ a/n: i’ve been gone for a while but!! as a gift, this chapter is twenty three pages long!! i promise i’m doing my best to update, there’s just been a lot going on! thank you for all the support, thank you for keeping my passion for writing alive!! ALSO trying out a new format!! let me know if u like it!!

♟ song rec: believe what you want, blue rose, & painting

 You gripped the side of your desk, inconspicuously shoving the slip of paper in your mouth. You weren’t stupid enough to throw it away, and definitely not stupid enough to keep it on your person. Were you going to go? You didn’t know, and you definitely didn’t want to have to make any more life-threatening decisions if you could help it.

 There was something sort of comforting about a monotonous life like the one you were pretending to live. Always knowing what was going to happen, doing simple things like organizing schedules, sending faxes, and making spreadsheets.

 You’d like to imagine you had lived the type of life and family dynamics that you had seen from time to time on television. It hadn’t occurred to you that this type of life wasn’t normal, not until very, very recently. How was it fair that most people’s problem consisted of what to wear, what they looked like, the drama between friends and what the latest text from their romantic partner actually means. You wanted that type of simpler life, you wanted more knowledge when you were a child. You felt stupid, you wanted to scold yourself and you want to yell and tell that child how stupid, foolish and utterly naive she was.

 But that child needs sympathy and protection, just like you still do.

 It was all getting too much the more you thought about, making your head spin.

 Your eyes were burning, and it could have very well been from staring at your desktop screen instead of actually doing anything. Something just felt wrong, and you didn’t know what. It was like a clock striking the final hour, and all it could say was wrong! with every chime. Your head was drooping, exhaustion lulling you even as paranoia consumed you. The sound of carousel music jolted you awake, making your desk chair squeak as several coworkers took a quick glance at you. And for a brief second, you swore you saw Sir Hwang and his record player. He was there, and then he wasn’t. Your sanity was slipping for you. You rubbed your eyes, shaking your head as your fingers hovered over the keyboard. Getting up, you smoothed your pencil skirt as you found yourself pouring yourself a cup of coffee, your eighth one in the span of two hours.

 You should’ve been off your rocker, being able to complete more than what was tasked to you that day. And you were- off your rocker that is, but in a different way. All this caffeine coursing in your blood made it impossible for you to sleep, even as your eyes drooped and your body begged. And yet, you were hyperaware. Every noise, the rustling of paper, the tapping of paper, the hum of the printers, all of it echoed in your brain.

 You watched as everyone leave for the lunch break, and you slipped into a leaving crowd of people who didn’t work on your floor. The elevator filled up with people and you crouched down, pulling a hoodie over your head and tucking your hair into the back. You moved your way to the front, your coworkers too invested in picking the restaurant that they should go to next. If they were suspicious of what you were doing, you wouldn’t have known. Not now, or later. You tagged along before swiveling into an incoming crowd, going back into the building.

 You’d never been in the surveillance room, and it was locked when you came across it. It was a lot better than having the guards actually in there because you had yet to come up with an excuse or more likely, distraction. You figured they must’ve been on patrol, but still, an uneasiness made your lips tight and chapped. You slipped in after playing with the lock for a minute or two, and you hurried to play with the security footage. Something felt off, definitely off, even if you were unsure of what exactly was wrong. You gave yourself some time to make it to Changbin’s desk, out and then into the building again as if you were returning from lunch with the rest of your coworkers.

 It took you longer than you had wished, and you knew that the guards would have been returning from their rounds. (If that was really, indeed what they were doing.)

   If anyone was to have information about the feds visiting, and more importantly, the trip that you were all soon about to take, it’d have to be him. Sure, he had said that he wanted to help. But you didn’t know if you couldn’t trust him. Hell, you didn’t even know if you could trust Hyunjin. You pulled your gloves on and went through his papers. Until finally, after looking over your shoulder more than a dozen times, you had found a few sheets of loose paper. And though some information was redacted, you rushed over to the copier. Glancing nervously at the ticking clock, there was a lump in your throat as you tapped your foot. Something was wrong. Something was clearly so, so wrong. And yet, you couldn’t make out what it was.

 The copier took forever, and with each somehow delayed second, you grew more and more panicked.

 To make matters worse, Hyunjin hadn’t even come in. You knew he couldn’t have been dead, his father was very adamant of securing his son’s place as an heir, even if that wasn’t what his son particularly wanted. You weren’t afraid that Hyunjin was dead, you were afraid that he was very nearly dead.

 It had only happened a few times before, but that was enough for it to stay lodged in your brain. A fervor hatred like gasoline to a forest fire. You’d never want to see you Hyunjin like that again, face swollen, his identity nearly shrouded with all the blood covering his face. His father had found out that he had skipped several lessons, to be in your company, no less. And he had still been smiling, crawling into your bedroom as you cleaned him up. He had made you laugh when he saw you cry at his pain, telling you not to worry as he winced from the alcohol as you cleaned his cuts.

 Later you had learned that his dad had challenged him to a fight, under the assumption that if Hyunjin had been skipping, it must be because he had surpassed the skill currently being taught.

 Looking back at it now, it made you even more resentful and anxious. So terribly, terribly anxious.

 Your bullet wound was beginning to stick to the inside of your blouse, and growing more uncomfortable as it began to wet your shirt, a growing humid and wet patch starting to grow on your blouse. But you ignored it, telling yourself you could stand it a while longer. Just a while longer until you could slip away and patch it yourself. This wouldn’t be happening if your first response wasn’t aiming to fucking kill you instead of you know, providing actual first aid. You pulled your shirt, swiveling your head to look for Chan’s desk. You couldn’t do much except for wipe the affected area off with tissues so that’s what you did, folding the paper into small squares as you tried to ignore the smell. You furrowed your eyebrows, remembering the last couple days as if it was some sort of fever dream instead of reality because it would’ve been much better if that was, in fact, the case.

 Before you could think- and sometimes you really wish you’d think your actions through- you found yourself walking to Chan’s desk with determination. You leaned over the wall that separated Chan’s cubicle from his coworker, an overwhelming itching sensation coming from

 “Hey, ____, how’s the wound coming? Do you want me to have a look at it later?”

 “Are you sure your boss is going to be okay with it?”

 He blinked, but didn’t miss a beat answering your question, even if he turned towards his computer. “I’m not sure what you’re implying, ____, we’re a team.”

 You placed your hand on his glass desk, sure you’d leave some fingerprints but you didn’t care- and leaned to face him, your face merely a breath away.

 “I’m not a fool, I know where your loyalties lie. But it’s tradition you know, district nine fights for answers.”

 “I’m not going to fight you, ___.”

   “Why not-?”

 He looked straight at you, teeth slightly clenched but his face otherwise blank, “Because you suffered a bullet wound less than a few days ago, and need I remind you- we’re-,” he paused with each word, “a fucking team!”

 “Some shitty team if you were ordered to give me fucking gangrene.”

 He clenched his jaw, furrowing his eyebrows at the computer. He tapped his fingers against his desk a couple of times, leaving behind oily residue from their pads.

 “You wanna fight? Fine. But not here. Have some fucking decency, ____.”

 He leaned back into his chair, pushing it away from you to continue whatever work he was assigned. He was right, in some sense, if you fought here- Sir Hwang would know.

 “But it’s not because I want to, or because I’m guilty of anything,” he said as he began to file a few sheets of paper, “But because I have a feeling you won’t leave until I agree to it. And maybe if you lose, you’ll finally understand that not everybody’s against you.”

 You walked away, dumbfounded. And sat in your desk chair repeating his words in your head until it was finally time to leave. You zoned out staring at Hyunjin’s office, your desktop going dark as your body was finally starting to give in. There was so much to be worried about, and it all felt like it was going to suffocate you. It would’ve been better if Hyunjin was here, just seeing him right now would give you an inexplicable type of comfort. Still, there was an air of guilt around the thought of Hyunjin. Should you tell him before it’s too late? You knew he was aware that something was going on, and you had never been one to keep things from him. It felt like you owed it to him, but you couldn’t be hasty. One wrong move and it’s all gone. It’s all over.

 Your body was beginning to shut down, your shoulder area throbbing and growing more uncomfortable by the second. You should’ve fixed it before everyone had returned from their break, it would’ve cost you this discomfort. But even the thought of someone seeing you walking out with a roll of gauze- the thought of someone seeing you vulnerable- that was too intimidating for you to even risk it.

 The office floor had cleared out without you noticing. Thankfully, you had gone somewhat on autopilot, typing up an email to another company the Hwangs wanted to collaborate with. Jisung leaned across the desk from you, a small smile as he took a peek at your screen.

 “Are you almost done? I didn’t want to leave without you.”

 “I’ll be right down, you can go on ahead. I’ll catch up.”

 “Listen…”

 His voice trailed off and you looked up after you sent the email, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, Jisung?”

 “I heard you were fighting Chan.”

 You grabbed your bag and rubbed your aching heels before slipping them into your flats. “And you think I shouldn’t do it.”

 He fluffed his hair nervously and looked to the side, “I’ve seen him train before, I don’t think it’s a good idea. Considering your condition and all.”

 “You’ve seen him train? You guys know each other?”

 “No- uh, not really? I’ve only sparred with him a couple of times before.”

 “How is that possible? The only other kid I’ve met is Hyunjin, I didn’t even know you guys existed!”

 He pursed his lips, “Listen, let’s talk about this another time. Just, don’t fight him, okay? He won’t think less of you.”

 “To the contrary,” you slipped under the strap of your purse, “he will. You will. Everyone will. There’s a lot I don’t know, but I promise I’m not as weak as you guys think. I’ll prove it.”

 He followed you anxiously, twirling the keys of the van. “I don’t think we should fight, especially not physically-!”

 “What’re you so worried about Jisung? Chan could’ve killed me, I deserve to know why.”

 He looked down, running his fingers along the grooves of the keys. “Just be careful, okay?”

 The tensions were high inside the car. Jisung and Changbin stealing nervous glances towards you and each other. You pretended not to notice. Chan, however, was as calm and poised as ever. He tapped the steering wheel along to the beat of the song. The sun was still to set as you looked out the tinted windows, the sky painted soft watercolors as day dripped into night.  No matter what happened, the world goes on. Everyone you see, holding hands with their lover and walking their dogs, their lives will keep on going. And you wanted to be like them, you yearned to walk a cute dog and hold hands with Hyunjin in a park. It was spring after all, and you’d had very few chances to enjoy it. Before you knew it, the flower’s petals would already have fallen. Summer would pass and the leaves would turn brown and the trees would become bare.

 And then it would come again, it would be spring then summer and winter all over again. Nature knew, nature was never changing and ever-changing all in one, and you? You didn’t even know what would happen within an hour from now. This was not what nature intended.

 You wondered, to yourself, if this was indeed a game. And if it was, were you winning? Right now, who had the upper hand? Who was making the smarter moves? At least in Chess, you could see all the pieces, but you weren’t even sure what your next step would really be.

 In the end, who would be saying checkmate?

 A surge of doubt came across you and you clutched the hem of your skirt, feeling the stitches on the underside. You bit the inside of your cheek. Was your goal in vain?

 The car came to a stop, the opening of doors and jangling keys taking you out of your trance. You didn’t have time to think about it, even if you wanted to. Jisung hurried off with Chan, giving you a nervous smile as he walked in. “We’ll see you in the training room in the west wing.” Changbin lingered behind, walking by your side. “You’ve probably never been by there, right? I’ll go with you.”

 You nodded, thanking him in your head. He followed you as you walked to your family’s small part of the estate, your hand was on the doorknob before you suddenly remembered.

 “Sorry Changbin, I just remembered I keep my training stuff in the North Hall. You ever been there?”

 He nodded, “Only a couple times, by accident. Do you really think you can win this spar?”

 The both of you hurried along, “I do. Or, at the very least, give him a hell of a time.” He gave you a small smile, keeping along with you as you broke into a run for the north hall. You reached the room where you were scheduled to train. Without having to ask, Changbin turned around as you stumbled around to change. You ignored the dizziness and nausea in you, chalking it up to repressed anxiety. “Aren’t you scared? Chan is quite big, and I’m sure Jisung has told you about his capabilities.”

 “Why is it that none of you are concerned about Chan’s well-being? How do you know I’m not stronger than him?”

 “Because, well-.”

 “Because I’m a girl right?”

 “That’s not fair, ___, he’s had more years of training and he’s just-!”

 “Just what, Changbin? You can turn around now, let’s go.”

 He sighed and put his hands up in surrender. “You’re right, sorry. But regardless, you still have a bullet wound. We’re in the mafia, we don’t exactly play by the rules.”

 You shrugged, fixing your shirt as the pair of you ran off to the West Wing. You ran, silently wincing with every jolt of pain that came when your heel hit the floor. Fortunately, Chan hadn’t arrived yet. You stretched for a few minutes, Changbin joining you in silence. “Bet you miss Hyunjin. Huh?” You kept a neutral face and nodded, you knew this was Changbin’s specialty. You felt so transparent with him, unsure if it was his demeanor and character or title and status within the group. “I’m going to check up on him after the spar,” you looked at yourself in the mirror, “Probably spend the rest of the night with him. I’m scared his dad hurt him.”

 You spent a minute or two in silence, abruptly broken by the opening of the door. Jisung gave you another nervous smile, throwing you a small hands up and Chan ignored your gaze. You got up slowly, pulling your shirt again. You had made sure to grab a loose, flowy one, but your wound kept sticking to it. Your legs were starting to feel weak, the floor seeming to ripple underneath you. Still, you were calm. Probably calmer than you should’ve been. You swallowed hard and faced Chan.

 He didn’t look at you, but instead, past you. He was a little less than neutral, a little more than blank. He seemed slightly annoyed, not angry- but instead gave you the sense that he wished he didn’t have to deal with this.

 “Let’s get this over with okay? Maybe I’ll knock some sense into you.” He finally looked at you, an intense gaze that could make anyone back down. And maybe it was the haze, maybe the lack of sense that had strung you this far, but you weren’t scared. Not agitated, or irritated either. Just calm.

“Thought you’d be above trash talking before sparring, Bang Chan.”

 “I’m not above anything.”

 “Lovely moral compass you have there.”

 “I wasn’t the one crying because my boyfriend would sacrifice me in a heartbeat.”

 You didn’t mean to, but you found his nose blood on your knuckles before you could give it a first thought.

 Now you were pissed.

 His eyes began to water, and he was startled, staring at you dumbfounded. He wiped his nose, the blood leaving a trail up the back of his hand. It was barely a second before he started swinging. You felt it hit your shoulder, a burst of sharp pain engulfing your shoulder.

 Dirty whore.

 You found yourself retreating, even though you had initially planned on staying on the offense. You needed a second, just one- to recuperate. But that wasn’t a privilege you had.

 You stumbled, struggling to keep a stance as the pain faded into an ache. He swung again and you slid next to him, and with both your legs you trapped one of his pulling his free arm down so he would fall. You kept pinned down, but you knew not to grow confident. He broke free of your grasp, using his leg to throw you over his shoulder. Your back hit the ground hard, but you rolled before he could keep you do. You were growing light-headed, the room beginning to spin but you went on. He had thrown you hard, and was not about to give you another chance to get him on the floor again. He hit you in the chest, propelling you back. He went in for the kill, but you countered, kicking him back and you struck him in the chest back. Taking advantage of the close proximity you tried to keep Chan in a chokehold, but he didn’t let you secure a hold on him.

 He aimed for your stomach next and then your throat, and you wheezed, but didn’t clutch your stomach as you stumbled back.

 You fell to the floor and slid between his legs, pulling one of them down and he stumbled, falling to his knees, but quickly spinning on them, and he lunged towards you again.

 Your hands flew to try and block his next punch, but it was too late. You ended up clutching his forearm as he hit you by your temple. You paced backward, straightening up, attempting to grow the space in between the two of you. He moved to close the space, and you feigned a kick, and as he moved closer to make it ineffective you turned and you pulled down his arm again, but instead of tripping him, you spun yourself up trapping his head in between your thighs. Involuntarily, he rolled, falling and following the motion of your force. You held his arm down, keeping him down between your legs. Your bad shoulder hit the floor and clenched your teeth, squeezing your eyes shut. Chan flexed and struggled to escape.

 “..9,10! ___, let go! Let go, ____, he can’t breathe!”

 Chan tapped your calves twice, and you nodded finally, unwrapping your legs from around his neck. You crawled away, limbs trembling from exhaustion. You spat blood, heaving as you clutched your throat. Your hair stuck to your face, you were a complete mess. Chan, by the looks of it, was too well off either, slumped up against the wall as Jisung cleaned up Chan’s bloody face. His eyes were closed, and his sleeveless shirt damp with sweat.

 “You’re bleeding,” Changbin said, pulling a tissue from his jacket pocket, “Wish I remembered to bring a first aid kit.”

 You threw your head up, squeezing your eyes shut as you sat in a more comfortable position. “I’m fine,” you muttered, “Don’t worry about me, okay, Binnie?” You looked back at him, and tried to give him a reassuring smile, throwing two thumbs up. “I’m peachy.”

 You turned your attention back to the two boys on the other side of the room. You stood, legs nearly giving out under you. “Chan?”

 At the sound of his name, his eyes fluttered open and Jisung backed away. Chan gave you a small dimpled smile. “I have to be honest, I didn’t expect you to win.” He straightened himself up, leaning himself up properly against the wall. He looked to the side, staring at the both of you in the mirror and chuckled to himself. He brushed the hair out of his face, “We look like hell, huh?” Chan sighed again, smoothing his shirt of creases, “Sir Hwang’s going to kill me.”

 You looked at him through the mirror, observing your kneeling position, looking into his eyes. There was a sudden weight of guilt that tagged along with his words, hiding in the letters and in between the spaces. “But tradition is tradition, right?” He looked down, and tossed his head back again. “Right, so-,”

 “You’re fine.”

 “What?”

 You stood up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ears. “I said you’re fine. If you don’t tell me, he can’t hurt you. We’re a team, right?”

 He smiled at you. “Of course, we’re a team.”

 Changbin guided you back to your family’s place in the estate, not that you necessarily needed him. Still, it was nice to have someone alongside you. And then, after you could no longer see him, you collapsed in your front door. You couldn’t hold yourself up any longer, you couldn’t pretend anymore.

 You crawled, crying out for your mom like a small child, like so many nights before. But as you walked into the room, lifting your head up.

 You realized you didn’t have a choice.

 There wasn’t much you could do when you found the tipped over chair in the living room except cut the rope with scissors, you tried catching the limp body before it fell, but fell with it as the chair tipped over, the back of it hitting your legs.

 You didn’t know what to do, so you dragged her to bed and tucked her in.

 It was a desperate moment as you kissed her forehead, pulling the sheets up to her neck. You wanted to weep more than anything, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. You sat at her study, staring at her for what seemed like hours, you were running again. You didn’t care who would’ve seen you, and most certainly weren’t going to stop. You let yourself in, Hyunjin was never one for knocking himself.

 He was down on the kitchen floor, the gas still clicking. You turned off the stove, cupping Hyunjin’s face. It felt like you were adolescents again. He furrowed his eyebrows and leaned into your touch, his shaking hand moving to hold yours. “C’mon,” you said softly, “Let’s go to bed, Hyunjin.” He fell into your embrace, going nearly fully limp. It took you longer than you hoped to get him to settle him into bed, he kept reaching out and insisting that you join him.

 “Come to bed, ___. Please.”

 “I have to clean you up.”

 Hyunjin wouldn’t be able to come in for several days considering the state he was in. You wish it was an exaggeration to say you had never seen Hyunjin in this bad of a state. His lip was busted, and his face entirely cut and red. He was all bruised up, wincing at the slightest of touches.

 “You gotta kiss me,” he pointed at his mouth, ”You have to kiss it to make it better.”

 “Jinnie, stop talking, you’re gonna make it worse.”

 “Will you kiss me if I stop?”

 “You’re such a dork,” you pressed your lips lightly against his, “But my dork, I guess.”

 “That wasn’t even a real kiss, it was a peck!”

 “I’m not gonna make out with you when you have a busted lip, Hyunjin.”

 “Coward. You only like me for my looks.”

 “You’re right. You’ve got me, I guess I should leave, huh?”

  He pointed his index finger, wagging it around limply in your face. “I’ve been gone one day and you get so bold, what happened to you?” You shook your head, throwing away the bloody wipes and putting away the first aid kit. “Are you gonna tell me what happened?” He reached for your hand, squeezing it. “Let’s just rest, you look like hell.”

 “Always such a gentleman, what a prince.”

 “Just for you. Now come to bed.”

 You sighed, crawling to his side. Without another word, he pulled you into his chest. Neither of you spoke for quite a while, and even though your eyes were on the clock, your body was starting to give in. Every once in a while, he would kiss the top of your head. The tensions in your muscles began to relax. Maybe you had lost your family, but at the very least you had your team. And most of all, you had Hyunjin. He had always been there for you, no matter how big or small the problem was. Things had definitely changed, even your relationship with him. You thought about the movies you would watch every once in a while. How the couple would hold hands in public places and go to coffee shops. They would fight about normal things. You wanted that, and it was silly, sure. But for some reason, that didn’t make you want it any less. You wanted matching outfits and to celebrate 100 days. You brought Hyunjin’s hand up to his chest, intertwining his fingers with yours.

 You wanted to be normal.

 You were thinking about not meeting up at the address, and maybe even skipping out on work when there was a rustling in the sheets. You felt cold, missing out on Hyunjin’s warmth. He sat away from you, head bowed and forearms resting on his thighs. You sat up, shifting your body weight and leaning to touch him when he shied away from your fingers.

 “Hyunjin-?”

 “You need to go.”

 “Why, what’s going on? Did I hurt you?”

 “Get out of my room, and stop coming to me.”

 “Hyunjin, I don’t understand-.”

 “You can’t even blame me, this isn’t my fault. It’s yours,” he paused, “Do you know how much trouble you cause. You’re not noble, ___. There is no greater good to fight for. You’re selfish.  All the shit that’s happened, it’s all you. I don’t want to be part of it anymore. It was just luck we met, I don’t even think I really like you. Even just as a person.”

 “Oh,” you slid over the opposite side, “sorry for the inconvenience. I’ll be going.”

 For a spring night, it was cold. There were no busses at this hour, and it’s not like you wanted to cry in front of a bunch of strangers anyway. You couldn’t pull yourself together. It wasn’t the fact that Hyunjin broke up with you, you weren’t stupid, his father obviously played a part in that. But he didn’t have to end it the way he did, nor did he have to say the things he said. What was the end goal here, what was the purpose of doing this?

 You got lost several times trying to find the address given to you. The people you came across were hesitant to answer the questions of a puffy-eyed and dried blood wearing stranger. It made you slightly angry, but you understood. You were just lucky that no one called the police. What explanation could you possibly give? Besides, you weren’t sure you’d want to help yourself either.

 You found yourself at the diner from a couple of days ago. The lady at the counter recognized you, and immediately bowed her head at you. To your surprise, she didn’t tell you to go away. Instead, she thanked you for helping get rid of the men and for your work in the police service. You weren’t sure why she thought that, but you didn’t question it either. It was better for her to think that instead of knowing the truth. Besides, you didn’t doubt that Sir Hwang had connections within the police force. You scanned the room finding no one you recognized, and no one that seemed like they were trying to meet you. So you just sat in a booth, unsure of what exactly you were waiting for.

 In the meantime, a waitress brought you some food. “On the house,” she said. You weren’t in any position to protest, and so you didn’t, silently thanking her for the food. You let your legs rest on the plush booth directly in front of you, silently musing at the nightlife when you felt someone slide in your booth.

 “C-?”

 He pressed a finger to his lips, signaling you to keep quiet and shook his head. He pulled out a pad of paper and started writing.

 I know you stole my files.

 Why would you say that?

 Your bag. He pointed. While you were fighting I saw the paper.

 Suppose I do have it. What are you going to do?

 I want to help. I want out.

 Who are you trying to fool?

 The question is, who are you trying to fool?

   Both of you left the diner, thanking the staff for their generosity. “Can we take a walk?” He nodded, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Didn’t you say you were going to visit Hyunjin?” You scoffed, crossing your arms and rubbing them. “I did.”

 “And something bad happened.”

 “Bad? To him, yeah. I guess you could say that. It’s not like I didn’t think something like this would ever happen.”

 “You broke up.”

 “Bingo.”

 There was a moment of silence between the two of you, and you sighed. You looked around, more out of habit than paranoia. “No one’s following us, I promise I checked.”

 “Then why didn’t you just come with me?”

 “Sneaking out is harder when you’re with anyone but yourself.”

 “Then why agree to the walk?”

 “You look like you could use a friend.”

 You knew he was particularly trained to observe people’s behavior, but it was scary and comforting at the same time to know someone was keeping an eye on your every movement. And yet, you didn’t deny him the role he wanted to play. You needed a friend, and he was willing to play one. Be one.

 You don’t know how long the fear of him turning against you will last, or if it will ever go away. And maybe it was your flaw, to be this human and succumb to this loneliness, but maybe that’s what separates you from this regime.

 Unexpectedly, you felt arms wrap around you tightly. You stumbled for a moment, and then fell into his touch. He held you for what seemed like a long time. He waited until you dropped your arms until he released you. There wasn’t another word said between the two of you, and you avoided looking back at Changbin.

 Admittedly, it was against your best judgment to return to the garden, but you wanted desperately to see the koi. The image of the apricot and pearl fish swimming in dark water kept fishing through your mind. You weren’t allowed to be up here, that much you knew, but it never quite registered in your brain. The gardens had always been your safe space, somewhere you knew that you and Hyunjin could always run to. Maybe Hyunjin was no longer here for you, but the koi still were.

 The smell of the elaborate garden was almost haunting, you could smell it long before you were up on the roof. It was always curious how you were never allowed to leave your side of the estate, but no matter how rich the Hwang family was- or was perceived to be, you’d never seen any signs of caution or security around these parts.

 Maybe it was the paranoia, maybe it was common sense- but either way, there was this undeniable, irrevocable feeling that you should run for it.

 You weren’t the most rational person, though.

 So you pressed on, finding yourself up on the roof. It was a bad night, a new moon and the stars nowhere to be seen. The clouds were dark, covering the sky in a blanket as it would just before a storm. You felt the air shift, tense.

 You could always smell the rain before a storm, and though you really couldn’t afford to get a cold- not in this state, you roamed the garden. You stilled, letting the pads of your finger caress the delicate petals of the roses. You could feel choked sobs bubbling in your throat, you wanted nothing more than to be able to cry.

 Everything changed that night.

 It took a deep breath and counting several times to ten to get you to move on from the rose bush. The path twisted and turned, it seemed to stretch out. Your eyes were drooping, burning. Every part of you hurt so bad, you wanted nothing more than to collapse right then and there. Finally, finally, you had reached your destination. Only to find a silhouette poised on the bench.  You knew better, you knew better so why did your breath hitch? Why could you feel the hair on the back of your neck rise? You knew that he knew you were there, so why did you freeze? Did you really think you could have run, that he wouldn’t have noticed you by some merciful god?

 No, god was never that kind.

 He raised his hand and motioned for you to come over. Biting the inside of your cheek, you complied, sitting next to him. You didn’t look at him, but you could feel his gaze on you, his arm stretched across the back of the bench.

 “What god do you serve, ___?”

��“None.”

   He clicked his tongue, lifting up your chin with his fingers. “Pity, such a dirty mouth. What use did Hyunjin have for you?” He gripped the sides of your jaw, “Wrong answer, dear.”

  “Enlighten me then, almighty.”

 He laughed, “Don’t get cheeky with me now, girl. The answer,” he paused, “Is me.”

 “You gave that up as soon as Hyunjin became of age, he’s the leader now. You’re rotting, just biding your time.”

 He kept a neutral face, even as he pulled your hair, “I should get rid of you, have you join your parents. Things would be much smoother, that’s for sure.”

 “High and mighty but can’t smite me down? What a lousy god you are. Why don’t you just do it?”

 Despite his experience, you watched as jaw clenched and he pulled tighter. Your legs bowed as he made you look at him. His face was red, tight with an emotion you had never seen painted on his face.  “Because I promised your dad I wouldn’t, but fuck, dead men tell no tales now do they?”

 He sighed, letting go of you to smooth his suit down and straighten his tie. He cleared his throat, looking to the koi instead of you. “Starting today you’ll be working on both my operations and Hyunjin’s, do you understand?”

 He put his hands in his pockets, turning to look at you one last time. “You’re going to work until you realize your life is not in your hands.”

 You sat at the edge of the koi pond for some time. Fingers dipping into the cold green tinted water, the pond rippled under your touch. Instead of swimming away from the motion, fearing your hand, fearing your touch, they circled around the edge. Even in the moonless night, where even the stars were in a seemingly deep slumber, the koi seemed to glow. Through the murky water, you could see the floating spectacles of coral and orange bled fish. They were beautiful, and even though the koi pond was considerably much bigger than a pond, you felt bad for them. Such beautiful animals swimming around the same cage for years, kept as decoration instead of having a life of their own.

 You couldn’t sleep. You’d much rather sit on your bed, eyes bloodshot than be plagued with nightmares. Every part of you ached or throbbed. You would take care of your wounds, you really would, but you couldn’t will yourself to move. It seemed like an eternity before the sun peeked through the blinds.

 So, until that happened, you reviewed the file you had stolen, er, borrowed. It was against your better judgment, like so many decisions you had made recently, but you pulled it all out in the open. You figured, if they bust your door open and dragged you back to that white room from last time, you’d have an excuse. How am I supposed to fulfill my duties if I’m not aware of what is going on within my team? Was it the best? No. But would it make sense? Absolutely. Even if they decided to dig deeper, which would be protocol, you’d just say you had taken it from Changbin during a meeting. There were no cameras in the conference room- how could there be? And with frequent checks for bugs planted by the feds, the entire room was a complete blind spot. So left with no way to fact check, they’d be resigned to believe you.

 You stared at the rather thin file for a while before opening it. It all seemed so normal, deceptively so. Important information all stored in a khaki paper file. What loomed more over you though, was the reality of your situation. You sighed, goosebumps covering your body and chills swimming down your back.

 Shipment scheduled to move from Eclipse Bay to Blood Bay. Security should be kept the same, and ordinary item cargo should be moved at the previously agreed on time.

 Being moved are several thousand kilos of rewind (see: previous deals).

 At 0300, Hyunjin and his team should be flown to Hong Kong for the festival. Along with Hyunjin’s established bodyguards (see: Han Jisung and Bang Chan), multiple armed men should be ordered to see the liftoff.

 Hyunjin is on his own, no interference by anyone. Observation only. Expected to win 100 billion won over the week, and multiple alliances with other families.

[2]

 Allied cops with the Hwang Family:

 Kim Wonpil

 Park Jaehyung

 Kang “Young K” Younghyun

 Park Sungjin

 Yoon Dowoon

 Hwang Yeji

 Shin Ryujin

 Lee Chaeryeong

 Shin Yuna

 Choi “Lia” Jisu

   Look into got7, this goes without being said, and connections with Kim Woojin.

[3]

 Interrogation scheduled for 0100. Lieutenant Wonpil.

 Suspected 02 of being a double, here’s the link for his file.

[4]

 New families have paid their way into the festival. Goes by the names of TXT and Monsta X, here’s the link to their file.

[5]

 Stakes are now higher. Families betting their entire estates and fortunes, along with betting valuable information, set to a series of predecided games. Winner takes all.

[6]

 Bugs planted by the feds have been found in these locations. Watch the sensitivity of your issues. They have not been taken out. Doubles have been found applying to the company. Order to observe all workers, you’ve been assigned to the twelveth and thirteenth floor. Rewards to be discussed.

 Granted, there weren’t many things written in the email transcripts. But the importance lied in the things that were indeed, not written. You scribbled noted all over the copy, the original text almost omitted from view. It didn’t matter though, all the information imprinted onto your memory. You knew that there were a lot of blanks that needed to be filled in yet, and that meant asking Changbin to fill in the gaps. There was an air of anxiety around that, but even without the information that could be given, this was a start.

 And what a hell of a start it was.

 You decided, in those couple of hours before dawn pulled and scratched itself up into the sky, making it bleed blue, that your first two steps would be to find out all you could about the corrupt cops and specifically, especially, Kim Wonpil.

 You stretched out, your back cracking in all sorts of different places. You groaned, heaving your dense and getting denser body from your bed. It was hours before you were scheduled to show up at the Main Entrance for work, but you needed something to occupy your mind. Sitting and staring at the ceiling until your alarm snapped you out of your trance didn’t really fulfill that purpose.

 Your wound was getting worse, obviously so. Your eyebrows furrowed in the mirror, a look of pain and displeasure slapped across your face. You pulled out your first aid kit, which was really so much more, and got started.

 It was ghastly. Tears brimming in your eyes as you cleaned the wound with alcohol. You were clenching your teeth, letting out strangled groans and gasps. And the worst part wasn’t even over yet. Your shaking fingers meant that it was a while before the thread finally slipped through the eye of the needle. Your vision was growing black as you tried to stitch the gaping wound. Legs bowing and falling over the sink, you toppled down to the ground. The needle pierced the palm of your hand, a thin stream of blood coming down your arm. You sighed, the cool tile of the floor and the sharp pain in your back bringing you back to your senses.

 You were almost glad you were alone, so that no one could hear your almost inhuman cries. Almost. You felt alone, so, so alone. The inside of your cheek was beginning to bleed, and that’s when your teeth let go of the tender meat. If there was any time to cry, it would be now. But you couldn’t let yourself, no matter how much your body begged you. Your brain wouldn’t. You clutched the edge of the sink, now stained with messy prints of your palms. You heard your alarm go off, and you weren’t even halfway done with your stitches. You finished the third loop before cutting the thread.

 Man, you looked like shit.

 The shower was quick, more to fulfill the morning routine than to actually make an effort to get clean. You were angry at yourself, thinking you should’ve pushed yourself harder, but you just couldn’t. Your hair was wet, barely free of all the knots and still dripping onto your blouse. Your state was deteriorating, and you didn’t know how to redeem yourself.

 At the very least, you were the first one to arrive at the Main Entrance. If one didn’t think there was a need to be competitive, even about the smallest things, they’d be wrong. Your fingers threaded through your hair, a shallow attempt to make sure that there were no remaining knots.

 To your surprise, Hyunjin was the second to arrive. He looked great, perfect even, not at all in the state you found him in last night. He kept his hands in his pockets, only moving from his position to check the time in his expensive watch. He didn’t shy away from your gaze, either.

 “Problem, ___? Please refrain from gawking at your superior like that.”

 A wave of annoyance splashed across your face, one that couldn’t help. You knew he noticed when he smiled at you. “I said, is there a problem, ____? I asked you a question.”

 “No, Hyunjin. No problem. Sorry.”

 “Sir.”

 “No, sir. Sorry, sir.”

 It felt so foreign to you, like you were haphazardly dropped into an alternate dimension. If it had been anyone else, you would’ve snapped entirely. But before Hyunjin, you seemed to sink into the ground. The back of your high heels pinching the skin around your ankle, your feet pressing into the uncomfortable sole of the shoes. The rest of your team arrived shortly after, but instead of being lead to the van, Hyunjin stayed where he was.

 Everyone stood around him, anticipating what was to come next. Hyunjin smoothed his hair, turning sideways and smiled.

 “It is my pleasure to announce that all of you, save one, have completed your individual missions to an astonishing degree, more than what was asked of you.”

   Your feet grew heavier, and you held your arms behind your back. Interlacing your fingers, you tried to self soothe. Usually, whenever you would tell Hyunjin about something stressful, he would always hold your hand. You kept your gaze level, refusing to look around even in your confusion. Your stare fell upon Hyunjin again, and he reached in the inside of his suit jacket.

 “Consider this a thanks from the Hwangs to you. To District Nine!”

 “To District Nine!”

 He gave all of the team members, excluding you, keys. Car keys. Luxury car keys. And you thought, you really thought that they’d be above this type of encouragement. They all chattered happily, jangling the keys and pointing at the logo embroidered on the black keys. You stood in the circle, albeit somewhat on the outskirts, and found your eyes falling upon Hyunjin again.

 He just smiled at you.

 And you decided, in that moment, that this was so much worse than his father’s signature neutral face.

 Hyunjin cleared his throat, and silence fell upon the boys. “I hope you find the car suits your tastes well. We have another meeting with Stray Kids today. Please prepare accordingly. In your cars, you’ll find another gift. Don’t worry about parking, you have your own spots.”

 He waved his hand, a gesture fit to dismiss the boys but you spoke up, earning a nervous glance from the boys.

 “And what about me?”

 “What about you?”

 “How am I expected to get to work?”

 “You’re a smart girl, ___. Aren’t you? If that’s too much to be expected of you, maybe one of your fellow team members would have enough pity to offer you a ride.”

 You bit the inside of your cheek again, feeling bits of metallic liquid seep into your mouth. “Of course, sir.”

   You just short of hissed the last word, and ignored Changbin’s calls after you as you walked out. You weren’t sure how it would be seen to prefer to arrive late rather than accept help, if it was petty or strong. But either way, you were still on a crowded bus to Central.

 You thought about the koi stop after stop, as people flooded the bus. It comforted you, somehow, thinking back to the bright orange fish in the murky water- how they circled around the rippling water. You felt someone bump into you, interrupting your mental image of the elegant fish but ignored it. You didn’t want to deal with this today, you didn’t want to make a scene. You were just so tired. So, so tired.

 You got off the bus the next stop, even if it was nearly a mile away from the building. The streets were busy, and as self-conscious as you were about walking bare feet for almost a mile, the blisters on your achilles’ heel couldn’t take it.

 You stared at the sidewalk even as you heard people whisper and stare at your feet. Your feet were dirty as you reached the doors of Hwang Headquarters. You walked quickly into the nearest elevator, almost forgetting that there was no ladies’ bathroom on this floor. It hadn’t helped that there was a light morning shower as you were walking here, and your wet clothes and the distinct smell of rain on you didn’t go unnoticed. As you reached your floor, the elevator had thankfully grown empty.

 With your wet hair stuck glued to your face, blouse sticking to your chest, and blackened feet, you stepped onto the floor. You went immediately to the bathroom, glad for once that you were the only female employee on this floor. You cleaned your feet, sitting less than gracefully on the sink counter.

 Man, you really did look like shit.

 You washed your hands quickly, the soap stinging the flesh your needle had pierced.

 “You’re late. Everyone’s already in the conference room.”

   You decided not to let Hyunjin get the best of you. Or maybe you were too tired, too exhausted to snap back. Still, you were never better to let a smark remark slip past.

 “Aw, look at the new secretary. Does that mean I’m the C.E.O now? About time, if you ask me.”

 You walked past him, and moved your hair out of your face. What you were doing was bigger than him, bigger than everybody in the room. You scolded yourself, you couldn’t let him get to you like that.

 You were across Jeongin again, he tilted his head slightly, asking you a question without words. You waved it away with your hand and shrugged. You could talk about it later.

 “Is there a reason you need to move up the meeting? We had one scheduled just hours later today.”

 “No, I just felt like being an asshole and calling you in earlier for the hell of it. It’s not like either of us have better things to do.”

 “Wouldn’t put it past you, Hwang. Could this have anything to do, by chance, with our alliance with GOT7?”

 Bang Chan sat up straight in his chair, hands folding over his lap. Hyunjin ignored the movement, spinning his pen around his fingers. This lasted for a few moments. “Always so efficient with time, Woojin.” He straightened, pulling his feet off the table, and put the pen in his pocket, all in one swift movement. You raised an eyebrow at the sudden use of first names. “You know, as part of our protection over you, we requested to know about all of your alliances.”

 “Protection? Is that what you call it, Hwang? Does your team not know about the things we’ve discussed? Pity. You’re more disorganized than your father.”

 “Oh, what we discussed? There are no secrets between my team and I, Woojin. Which is more than you can say.”

 Hyunjin walked to the other side of the long table, more leisurely than you thought a person could walk. His steps were slow and deliberate, and you watched intently. He placed a tape recorder in front of Woojin, pointer finger hovering over the play button. He whispered something lowly in Woojin’s ear and then turned to face everyone, a sweet smile plastered on his lips.

 “You wouldn’t want them to hear about that, would you?”

 “No, I wouldn’t. But you know what the feds would love to know? That their trusted Kim Wonpil is providing information about the investigation being held on you. Could you imagine the scandal? The media?”

 Hyunjin laughed, his hands slamming on Woojin’s shoulder. “Is this a game you want to play? Are you confident in the moves you are making?”

 “Does a fish swim, Hwang? But that’s not what we’re here to do. Your ego is suffocating everyone and everything, you’re no different than your father. Let’s get to the point shall we?”

 “Go ahead, Woojin. Fill in the blanks.”

 “GOT7 is up and coming, you know that, I know that. The best way to dismantle their current system is by alliance and infiltration, there are no losses here. They’re in no place to refuse.”

 “Then why not disclose that information?”

 “It wasn’t finalized at the time.”

 “Do you really expect me to believe that?”

 “I do. Especially if you want an alliance, and more so with the upcoming festival. You’re in no place to refuse.”

 Woojin stood up and smoothed his suit sleeves, ridding the luxury clothing of any wrinkles. He was almost imitating Hyunjin’s gestures, who was watching him amused back from his end of the table.

 “Seungmin, open the presentation. Minho, please distribute the files.”

 The rest of the meeting went until lunchtime, and you couldn’t bring yourself to be interested in financial talk. You wanted to contribute something, anything, but you were beginning to doze off. Your attention span was decreasing exponentially, and even as determined as you were to stay awake, your body was beginning to shut down.

 It was paused, briefly, giving everyone two hours for lunch. And you couldn’t be more thankful.

 “Let’s get coffee, Jeongin. Please.”

 For some reason, you had expected him to object. You didn’t even want to discuss your plans, you didn’t want to plan a huge dismantling of a system that went as far back as history could tell. You just wanted a friend. You just wanted to talk.

 “You seriously look like shit, ___.”

 “Hey!”

 “I’m sorry, and I mean that in the kindest way. You need some sleep. Maybe a couple of centuries.”

 “Justice never sleeps, Jeongin.”

 “Okay, Batman. I’ll go get us coffee and meet you in the park. Don’t run off into the night.”

 “I feel like you just want me to get out of your car.”

 “I do. Get out of my fucking car.”

   There was something about spring afternoons that you had never really noticed before. Was it risky to be here? Of course, it was. What part of your life wasn’t full of risk? But you didn’t want to think about that, you wanted to think about spring. The fresh breeze softened even as rose into the clear sky’s view. It felt good, calm. The older wood of the park bench pressed into the base of your neck as your head fell back against the top. It wasn’t long before you found tears escaping your eyes.

 “Jeongin.”

 “___.”

 “It’s good to see you.”

 He smiled and snorted, sitting next to you and handing you a warm coffee cup. He held his own cup in between his thighs, both hands resting on the lid as he looked up into the night sky. “How have you been doing?”

 “Shitty.”

 “What happened?”

 You found yourself jumbling your own words. Cutting off sentences short and running to a different topic as if you would run out of time or he would cut you off. “...things just haven’t been the same with Hyunjin since he got, er, promoted?”

 “Wow,” he said finally, “That fucking sucks.”

 You shrugged, suddenly embarrassed as you felt your face go hot. You hadn’t meant to tell him such personal things. You looked down, taking a sip of the latte. But to your surprise, Jeongin did the same.

 “Woojin doesn’t trust me,” he commented, “I mean, I get that he’s trying to protect me but I hate feeling coddled you know? I think he feels bad about the night at the warehouse, but it’s not like I’m mad about it.” He shrugged, and his voice trailed off before picking up in volume. “I’ve seen them kill people. It hasn’t even been that long and I’ve watched them do it. I’ve even helped-”

 “Jeongin!” Your hand clamped over his mouth as you looked around frantically. “Not here, never here.”

 His eyes widened, and he took a sip of his coffee cup.

 You sat in silence for a few minutes, just enjoying the breeze and petrichor. “You should eat,” Jeongin stretched out his legs, “We can stay here for a while, but we’re going to a restaurant soon.”

 “I thought you wanted me out of your car?”

 “Charity for the poor. I’m a generous man.”

 “Man? With that squeaky voice?”

 “My voice causes earthquakes, fool. Get in the car before I leave you here.”

 “You’re so mean to me,” you faked sobbing loudly, earning estranged looks from passerbys, “And I treat you with such kindness.”

 “Get up, dumbass. People are staring. I swear to god-”

 “Alright, alright. I’m going. I need the ringing in my ears to stop.”

 “God fills me with enough power to purge you.”

 “Oh, no. I’m so scared. Someone, please. Help me. Mickey Mouse is coming for me.”

 “Get in the car before I drag you!”

   Jeongin kept raising the volume of the music every time you tried to talk to him, a playful smile on his face. Less than ten minutes later, the car stopped in front of a lush restaurant. You felt almost out of place being here. Even though you were always surrounded and exposed to signs of wealth, the exaggeration of it all never seemed to stop amazing you.

 “Isn’t this a place a little...much?”

 Jeongin shrugged, “I doubt this is going to cause a financial concern for Woojin. Besides, this is the only buffet I know that has high-quality food.”

 “We could’ve just gone to a diner.”

 “Live a little. You deserve it.”

 Those words swam in your mind for a bit, repeating themselves like a broken record. You and Jeongin talked and talked. About everything and nothing in particular. And for a while, both of you forgot about your life outside the restaurant. You forgot about responsibilities, even your paranoia, your hypervigilance was kept in the back of your mind. For now, you could pretend that everything was okay. Because that’s how it felt.

 Your stomach was full, and you had long stopped counting plates by now. Jeongin was no better, still going on even after you slumped over in your chair.

 “You’re a coward.”

 “Oh fuck off, Jeongin. My stomach feels like it’s gonna pop.”

 “I said what I said.”

 You groaned, clutching your stomach. “I don’t even know why we made this a competition. Jeongin. Jeongin. I think I’m going to die.”

 “Shut up. I’m almost done, we’ll go soon.”

 You hid your face in between your hands, and started to fake cry again, just as loud as last time. “Quit it, dumbass.”

 Your crying got louder, your shoulders shaking as he kicked you under the table. “Oh fuck-!”

 “If it were not for the laws of this land, I would’ve slaughtered you. Let’s go. I paid while you made a scene.”

 “I love you.”

 “I despise you with every inch of my being.”

   The rest of the day went on without anything memorable happening. You were feeling better, much more energetic and happy. You knew you’d have to meet Jeongin later that day to discuss what was actually going on, but for now, you didn’t want to think about that. For at least a couple hours of the remaining day, you could pretend all you did was work a nine-to-five job. You could pretend that all you did was have lunch with a co-worker.

 For now, you could just pretend.

   “Hey, I’m Felix.”

 You looked up from your computer, tilting your head and looking up at him quizzically. “Hey, Felix. Can I help you with something?”

 “Uh, well not really. I just never talked to you, and I figured I should introduce myself. Personally.”

 “Okay, well, I’m ___. What do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?”

 “Boredom. Listen, can I ask you something?”

 “Ah, there it is.”

 “No, no! It’s not like that! Look,” he sighed, “I’m friends with everyone here but you. I just wanted to know if you wanted to get coffee sometime.”

 “That’s it?”

 “That’s it.”

 You watched the freckled boy carefully. “Oops, looks like I overstayed my welcome,” he looked quickly to Hyunjin’s office, wearing a playful smile, “I’ll take you up on that coffee soon! I’ve been told I can be very insistent.”

 “I can imagine. We can go for lunch tomorrow?”

   “Can’t wait.”

 You’re unsure of any of the between the lines implications, if there were any. But really, wasn’t there always? It was naive to think there were any purely good-hearted people in this setting.

 But for now, you could pretend.

 Woojin and his team left a bit later, Jeongin gave you a polite head nod as he walked past your desk and Felix gave you a warm smile, waving brightly. You waved back, unsure of what else to do in that situation. It’s not like you’d had much practice, anyway.

 Hyunjin left after all the common employees, but before you. You watched him bluntly, but he paid you no mind. You wondered if he had been listening into you and Felix’s short interaction. It was the kind of wondering that you were sure you’d never get much closure for, but it kept your mind busy as you made schedules and faxed papers. You missed him, you concluded. It was weird, not being able to talk to him and having his warmth. That was the thing about all types of relationships, wasn’t it? You’ll never really find another person like that. Maybe that was the point, in order not to go through the same pain. But you still loved him, and you knew that only time and patience could heal this kind of hurt. But you did, that was the truth. For today at least. Today, it was today’s truth. Maybe tomorrow’s will be different. There was really no way to know except to get there.

 You thought about a million little small things, how soft his hair was or the little beauty mark below his eye. You thought about the way he smiled and how he always clapped when he laughed. And then you thought about your dad, and then your mom. And your heart ached in a way it had never. This was a different kind of hurt. You wiped your teary eyes, and throughout the stained paper. What good did this pain do? All it had done was ruin a spreadsheet, and now you had to print another one.

 You wanted to stay in late, you really didn’t want to go back to the estate. You had no idea what Sir Hwang had in store for you, but you knew that it would be no good. There was nothing you could do to prepare, you didn’t know what to expect. That much power, yes, he did have over you.

 And you were right, you had no idea.

 Going to the main building for purposes other than given orders was prohibited. Mostly because no one liked unwarranted visitors, but you supposed that you had an excuse. A half hour passed, and then an hour came and went, and you gave up. Your feet hurt, and you needed a good shower. If Sir needed you, then surely, he could come get you himself.

 Night came and the sky deepened, and you started to relax. Maybe it was unlikely that he would have forgotten, but he was a busy man after all. Plus, doing and managing illicit activities was tiring, he could just need rest. Maybe you were off for the night, just for today.

 After a long shower and eating a subpar dinner, you passed out on the couch. You hadn’t meant to, really, you just wanted to rest your eyes. You were really nothing but human in the error of your ways.

 But your rest was plagued with nightmares, and Sir was the rat that spread disease. You were on the living room couch, sitting upright and before you were your parents. And Sir. He sat in the middle, on a simple black chair. Your father began to bleed from his head and torso, but he did not move, his expression blanker than a sheet of paper. Your mother sat too, in the same way, a noose around her neck and the tail of the rope sitting curled on her lap. You too, began to bleed. But from where, you could not tell. Your hands held a mess of blood, and with your vision hazy, you looked up at Sir. And he smiled.

 You woke up then. Not screaming, not thrashing. You just sat up. Your mouth was unbelievably parched, a jackhammer heart pounding into your chest, you were sure your chest was going to crumble into pieces. You felt so, so hot. You pulled at the collar of your sweater that stuck to your body like you had run through the rain. You pushed yourself up, pressing hard on your numb leg as the static pins and needles seemed to prick your leg. It was late, and you knew you had to meet Jeongin soon. You had to go over all the new information you both had, but you hadn’t done it earlier.

 You were annoyed at yourself, changing out of your sweaty clothes into similar sweats. You bit the inside of your cheek, already sore from your previous assaults. Instead, you resigned to bite your lip, which probably wasn’t much better, but at least it gave time for your cheek to heal. It didn’t take you much time to get back to the abandoned cafe. Well, abandoned was no longer the right term, it seemed. Construction tape and a new name that hung upon the storefront. You were early, so it was no surprise that Jeongin hadn’t arrived yet.

 But your stomach grew more and more upset as more time passed. The file you had hidden away in the inside of your shirt would begin to crease, and it probably wouldn’t smell too great either. Realistically, you knew that a lot of things could’ve happened. Maybe he had just overslept, and wouldn’t be coming at all. Maybe he was caught sneaking out, or maybe he had just forgotten. All of those things could’ve happened before the worst of the worst- and you weren’t even sure what that would be. Still, something from the depth of your stomach crawled and clawed. You felt dread, anticipating what couldn’t be anticipated.

 “Sorry, I overslept. I’m so tired.”

 You sighed a breath of relief, laughing at yourself. You relaxed, tensions unraveling themselves in your back and in your chest. There Jeongin was, cheerily holding up to coffee cups. “I got coffee, it’s different this time though. It’s-.”

 He was interrupted by a loud bang, and the cups toppled to the ground. A mess of green foamy liquid stroked the air like a paintbrush, and then splattered onto the ground. Jeongin was on his knees, holding his chest.

 You ran towards him, holding his anguished face before you noticed the man behind him.

 You don’t know what took over you, whether it was a moment of self-realization, or anger that had consumed you like no other. His face was becoming unrecognizable, a bloody pulp and yet, you couldn’t stop. You kept going, your vision hazy and breath labored. Was it you? Were you really doing this? You wiped your face, only to make it more messy, more bloody. The blood on your hands, quite literally, wasn’t yours. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t you, that you were impulsive. What mattered is that you wanted him fucking dead. In that moment, he deserved it, and to you, that was your gospel truth. Written in scrolls and tattooed on your back. You didn’t need to play god to kill someone, you could be Cain for that.

 “You’re gonna fucking kill him, ___, stop! Stop!”

 “He’s not dead! ___, he has a pulse! Fucking stop!”

 You could feel them grabbing at you and you felt animalistic, kicking and screaming. Were you crying? You don’t recall, but your face was wet. You didn’t even know who he was anymore as they pulled you away. You thrashed like an animal caught in a net as all the members of your team worked to drag you away. You couldn’t see straight, abstract figures of color swirling around you. Struggling to calm down, your breath was erratic, palpitations so strong you felt as if you were going to throw up. You were positioned against a wall, poised like a doll. Sweaty, lips chapped, hair sticking to your face, and decorated in blood like you’d just won the hunger games.

 Shit. Shit!

 You woke up in a room you had never seen before. Stark white walls and a lone painting of the Hwang family in the center of the wall before you. You heard movement and swiveled your head to the right, finding Sir Hwang standing straight from his leaned position in the doorframe. His hand pushed the door lever, he was on his way out as he paused, turning to face you. With a satisfied smile, he looked down at you,

  “I knew you had it in you.”

[dukeofishgard]

From the Diary of Minette.  House of [Redacted] in Ishgard

Date Unknown, Estimated to have been written in the Sixth Astral Era.

Dearest Diary, 

She is finally dead. She breathed her last a bell ago... father at her side. He told Alitte and I we did not have to visit her if we wished not too. After all she was hardly a mother to either of us, rather she was a symbol of hatred and torment in our lives.  Alitte of course accepted this readily and stayed in his room all day, but I..

Oh diary, I feel awful admitting this... but I wished to gaze upon her face as she died- I wanted to see the life of that woman ebb away- I wished to see her life’s breath sputter out until her eyes went dead and her skin went cold. The woman who caused mine father the pain and anguish that aches and tears at his heart! Am I no better than her, to have such a desire? The desire to see one’s life fade from their eyes? And how joyous my soul and body felt as I watched her struggle to breathe! ‘What a miracle!’ I thought as I watched her skin turn pallid and grey ‘That this world shall be free of this devil woman!’ 

At one point, I felt her eyes fall on me from across the room. Her gaze had always been feral, angry when she looked upon my brother and I. But now, crawling towards death, she seemed inconsolable in her rage against our existence. Yet, she said nothing to me. Her eyes spoke enough- and even though I knew she was soon to be dead- that scornful gaze frightened me... it was the gaze of someone who was not afraid of death, as though she knew that even in her death, her hatred would linger with me for all my life, giving her the last laugh...

When the maid came to tell us she had finally passed, (looking pleased herself which offered me a small token of relief,) I immediately set off to go find father. The idea that was he was busy preparing her last rites and the funeral did not cross my mind- how could he be doing that for her? 

It did not take me long to find him- he was in the study and as I approached I felt my body stop at the sounds coming from within. It was a sound I was quite familiar with, though I would never say as such to his face- it was a sound our father tries to hide from us. 

He was crying. Sobbing, in fact.  I peeked through the crack in the door, my head unable to truly understand that the sobbing was coming from my father. My heart felt torn to pieces- had the woman I loathed... had father actually loved her and now regretted her death? I felt cold, ashamed to my core that I had somehow neglected to see my father’s pain. I turned to leave before I heard him call out my name- telling me it was alright to come in. I hesitated at first- that shameful feeling compelling me to flee- unable to face him.  But truthfully, I wanted nothing more than his comfort just as I had as a young girl, to crawl into his arms and sob like a babe.  As I came into the room- he opened his arms just as he had all those many times before and I immediately ran into his warm embrace- inhaling the scent of my childhood. Father never smells like his fellow knights- those who smelled of iron and tobacco. He always smells of sweets and warm fireplaces- I suppose he smells of ‘home’. 

As I crawled into his lap, I looked up at him steeling myself to speak as evenly as possible, “Daddy... are you truly sad?” I asked, my voice unable to rise above a whisper lest I begin crying myself. He stayed quiet for a moment, simply hugging me tighter- his tears silent for a moment.

“No,” he finally said- voice hushed and pained, “No I am not.” Confusion flooded me, then why had he been crying the way he had? The last time I saw him cry in such a way was when Grandfather died, though I would never tell him I saw him that day. “Then why?” I asked, bringing my hand to touch his wet cheeks. “Because I am happy,” he said simply, before suddenly clutching me closely- sobs now escaping him once more as he began to cry against me, “I cry because I am happy we are free from her- and I wonder how awful of a person I must be to celebrate the death of another- my wife no less!” At once, relief flooded through me- my shame dissipating in an instant. Of course he was not sad at her passing. How could he be? How could he be mournful of the woman who had not only sliced at his mind but at the very physical body he possessed? The woman who... who tried to take everything-... everyone that made him happy?  “Oh father, father than we will be awful together,” I said finally, hugging him tightly, “For I have never felt happier. To hear that she is gone, that you are free- I would gladly face Halone’s judgement for the happiness I feel over her death.”

He was quiet a moment, before hugging me tightly as he began to laugh softly against me, “Oh my precious love, you know how to mend your father’s heart so effortlessly.”  I swallowed the lump that had gathered in my throat, “Of course,” I said softly, holding him tightly, “I love you, daddy...”

“I love you, my dearest Minette. Thank you, I feel now the last bit of weight lifted off my shoulders. How about you go gather your brother, and we share a treat?” I nodded, reluctantly getting up and smoothing my dress down, “Father,” I said as I began to leave,something inside me compelling me to speak, “She’s gone, truly gone. You’ve nothing to fear now.”

He had stood up by then, going to look out the window beside his desk, but he glanced back at me- a queer look coming over his face, “Yes...” he said softly, “I know that. I checked her heart myself- she is no more.”

But he did not look convinced- and some small part of me... felt the same. Those eyes... filled with such hatred- I could not shake it from my memory...  Perhaps that is the price we pay for the happiness of her death- we must still remember her- and all the pain she brought us... ...I’ve written enough for now- I should go and help where I can.

Minette. 

[tetsuwan-atom]

Villain Headcanon - Atlas Ethinger

Well, it's certainly been a while since I've done a villain headcanon post.. and really these should be done due to plot ideas later on down the track. This one is particularly important as it's heavily related to Bowen himself. There's a lot of information to go through, so it will be put under a read more. This, is Atlas Ethinger.

Faceclaim is either KAITO from Vocaloid or Gallerian Marlon from Evillious Chronicles (which is basically KAITO anyway...)

(( I also apologise if any part of this description may sound confusing. Plenty of it has been done on the fly. ))

Childhood and upbringing

Atlas Ethinger is the 'son' of Zeus Ethinger. Son being a loose term as he wasn't actually 'born' in a traditional sense. He is in fact, a test tube baby.

Atlas was created using a mix of genetic material from a previous human incarnation of the multiversal god 'Atom', as well as such material from a human being. Zeus Ethinger, an engineering tycoon with a vast amount of wealth, wanted to create his own 'god' son, firmly believing the Atomite lore. The genetic material needed was taken from a previous incarnation of Atom, someone who had been around since the beginning of the 20th century and had previously fought in a few wars for his country. This was done through killing said incarnation, right at his doorstep. The other material was acquired through a suitable female.

As a child he was left under the care of servants and maids, Zeus never really in the picture at all at that stage. He was privately educated as well, only going to what Zeus considered to be 'the best schools', not that it helped, he was still bullied throughout his studies. Being blue haired with those bright green eyes easily made him a target, as well as his home life not exactly the best environment for him.

His father became more involved when Atlas was a teenager, but not exactly in the best way. He was only concerned for Atlas' grades, not his wellbeing. The bullying didn't stop in high school in fact it worsened considerably. The way he was treated in those years nurtured a hatred for others, whom he began to consider as less than himself, for having to resort to pick on others. Eventually of course, he snapped, on one rainy day he confronted a senior student who had a huge dislike for him and savagely beat him in front of everyone. The extent of the injuries was so severe, everyone thought that Atlas would have killed this guy.

Needless to say, he was expelled from such a school. The tirade he got from his father was vicious, both verbally and physically. Again, his father never cared for how he felt, he just wanted Atlas to get the grades that were needed to get the education.. and that was in jeopardy.

So he was sent to another private school, where he did a bit better, especially since he met someone whom he felt like he could rely on. Her name was Bridget. Bridget stuck up for him when he was being harassed by older students, especially one who also took fancy to her. Regularly did Atlas and said student have regular arguments. Clearly Atlas felt something for Bridget and there was an inkling that she might have felt the same way.

Unfortunately this had an effect on his grades and Zeus was not happy. More abuse followed, especially verbal this time. When he found out as to why Atlas might be slipping on his grades, he decided to hatch a cunning plan to hook up Bridget with the rival student. Money was a particular factor in such a plan and no doubt did it work. Bridget abandoned Atlas and quickly went off with the rival student, changing schools not long after that. Atlas, was heartbroken. The one person he could trust and rely one, someone whom he first developed feelings for, had left him in the dust, for someone who thought he was less than dirt. It only further fuelled his dislike for others, as well as keeping his heart from ever feeling for another individual.

While he graduated from private school, pretty easily, his father, Zeus, was still pedantic about grades, even when Atlas was sent to one of the top universities. Even then did he get ridiculed for his appearance, as well as his choice of outfits, making him look all over blue, as well as particularly old school, compared to the others. Studying eventually took it's own toll, which lead to one particular argument with Zeus.

By this stage, Atlas was an adult, in a position to argue back with Zeus. The argument was particularly fierce and nasty, a lot of personal anger and vitriol was unleashed that night, with Atlas angrily accusing Zeus of not being a father at all, that he treated Atlas like someone who was more of an employee than a son. The argument eventually got to the stage where Zeus nastily blurted out to Atlas that he had to arrange for Bridget to run off with a high school student as she was being a bad influence on his life, that he should focus on his career more than 'bodily urges'.

This, was the final straw for Atlas. He couldn't take any more from the man who had created him. The man who was already serving himself and not his son, who seemed would do anything to get his 'pawn' to where he wanted to be. Thoughts of Bridget fuelled his mind, rage amplifying with each second. The result... Zeus was murdered, right there and then, in a fashion that was particularly brutal and savage. Atlas made sure that everyone else kept quiet about it, for they would suffer the same fate otherwise. Zeus' body was quickly disposed of, leaving no trace of the selfish tycoon. Atlas would inherit everything, being the only 'child' that Zeus had. This would be a new experience for him, one where he had to shapen up pretty quickly. It wasn't easy having so much money, as well as an engineering company and mass connections to keep going. He would learn from the servants who had raised him. Combined with his previous experiences in school and university, he would become a master player in whatever dealings he had.

Adulthood, Atlas Engineering and the Ministry of Science

Atlas would grow to become a cunning operator in his business dealings. Formerly the company was known as Ethinger Manufacturing, but when he took charge, it quickly changed to Atlas Engineering. Good thing that when he was at university, he was in fact studying an engineering degree and had learned quite a lot about what his late father had dealt with. He had such an interest in machines since his early schooling days, as well as computers, they certainly fascinated him. Many a design he had made for various applications, in fact quite quickly in such a regard. He was praised highly for his quick skill, which eventually earned him connections with the Ministry of Science, in particular the head of the Inter-Dimensional branch at the time, Davis Uberiso. While the Ministry had been undergoing works of a corrupt and shady nature, Davis and his team were working on a goal that would benefit billions upon billions. Safe and secute inter-dimensional travel, both personal and en-masse. Such a project enticed Atlas, not to mention having connections with the Ministry, he would soon learn a lot more than what he would ever discover otherwise.

One other point of mention is another aspect of his behaviour. He had been raised mainly by maids when he was younger. As a kid it was older maids, who eventually retired and made way for younger ones. When he was a teenager, there was a particularly young maid, in her early 20s, Mary, who seemed like she very much cared for Atlas. Whether she was doing her job well or if she did care for him, he would very much reward it in the future. After the whole Bridget fiasco and after he had taken over his father's company, Atlas began to spend quite a bit of time with Mary. She was still employed by Atlas and hadn't reached thirty just yet. Atlas had found quite an attraction to her when he first knew her and that hadn't changed at all. She didn't have anyone at the time and could easily tell what he thought of her. This culminated in a night of fireworks. Atlas lost his virginity to a maid and for the first time, knew what intimacy and sex was like.

It wasn't the last time either. Atlas had it pretty good where he was at that moment, running a successful company, learning more about machines with the Ministry and being enthralled in passion with Mary every night. For a while, things seemed to be pretty good, until one day Atlas had to go through some documents.. one of them contained information about himself.

When he was younger, he was told that Zeus was his father and that his mother died in an accident shortly after he was born. While he still had a mother, that information had been easily redacted in the documents. What he found more fascinating, as well as shocking, was what he was. From the information he had read about his creation and what was used. He ascertained that he himself, was an artificial incarnation of a multiversal god, combined with human DNA. He was, truly, better than everyone else, save for the one person whom he shared a bed every night. Many a time did he test his abilities and was truly surprised at the results. His speed, strength, stamina, everything, it was all phenomenal. It also explained how moments with Mary lasted all night and sometimes into the morning.

But then the downfall was right around the corner. Eventually a leak occurred about Atlas and Mary, that he was having this long affair with his maid. Of course, neither had a significant other prior, but news did spread like wildfire. Company bosses began to think less of him. One even commented that Atlas was 'a horn dog who would rather bang his maid instead of running his business'. It even had an effect on his work with the Ministry of Science. He was involved in a project relating to negative energy, as part of his newly discovered fascination with Atomite lore. That experiment went horribly wrong, creating a monster that looked to devastate a city, only to instead manifest itself in a bystanding teenager, who would disappear shortly after.

The revelations had a toll on his relationship with Mary as well. She was the second person whom he felt a proper connection to, yet soon it seemed like they were arguing more and more. This of course, culminated in more sex, but that soon had an effect of it's own.

Mary got pregnant.

Atlas had a mixture of joy and concern of such news. Easily was it ascertained that it was of course his baby and he felt joy that he could be fathering a child of his own, yet Mary wasn't physically coping with carrying a child, taking a toll on her body. During the term, Mary fell gravely ill. Despite best efforts to save her, she died, with Atlas by her side. The baby could not be saved.

This left Atlas in a pretty bad state. The second person he had come close to feeling something for, probably the only person he could consider 'loving', had died. It was like everything that was going right in his life was being taken away from him. Already at this stage, he was somewhat self serving, but after that, did he truly and only look out for himself. Nobody else mattered anymore but him.

The final years of his old life

By that stage, Atlas was only thinking of himself. Some would go so far as to say he ended up just like his late father.. or much much worse. His dealings were ruthless, he was cunning at every corner. He even went so far as to massacre a whole building full of diplomats, just to hinder or sever relations between a country and the United Government, all for his own gain and all covered up easily.

The research on inter-dimensional travel was reaching new levels as well. Portal technology was feasible for small vehicles, but a large energy and computational source would be required to sustain mass transit travel, as well as personal travel at the same time. The decision was made to build what was called 'The Reactor', feet upon feet below ground, at the Ministry of Science headquarters. Atlas was heavily involved in it's construction. He had to be, he knew what it would be capable of.

He had made alterations to the initial design in such a way that someone could in fact 'live' in the Reactor. It would be like truly ascending to god, being able to go where he wanted, see what he wanted.. even almost do what he wanted. There were sacrifices he had to make. He'd have to leave everything behind. Atlas Engineering, his old life, everything, but to him and the way things were now, it seemed like the perfect trade off.

By this stage he was wanting more 'experiences' at the same time. The copious amount of sex he had with Mary had left him with a mindset that one shouldn't go without. He became notorious for charming and having affairs with multiple women. At the same time, he felt like wanting to create another child, to truly have fathered a kid of his own.. or multiple. Of course for the most part this was unsuccessful, for many reasons.

Until one night he charmed a woman by the name of Carolyn Fielding. To say he made a woman out of her was an understatement. Most of his one night stands and affairs didn't amount to much, but with Carolyn, it was like fireworks. She was so lost in such a moment with him, that she didn't ask crucial questions, like if he was wearing a condom or not... nor did she even do her own research about him, for that matter.

For a good while did they keep in contact, Atlas didn't see anyone else during that period, more so because of his involvement in the Reactor's construction, but he kept nights free for Carolyn... for a while.

It was no wonder she fell pregnant with his child, but she wasn't happy about it at all. Atlas was overjoyed, but she felt like as if he had been very careless. Not to mention upon learning about him, she was left as if she had been used. A particular confrontation ensued, Carolyn almost breaking down in front of Atlas, before running away from him before he could even talk to her. Instead of tracking her down, he chose instead to continue his own work, wondering if she will be fine in the end. He didn't really develop a connection with Carolyn, for by that stage, she was just another woman to be intimate with, or rather, the woman who was now carrying his child.

He didn't even know she was being comforted by a research assistant, who was passing by from another department. That person was called Morrie Chuuno, someone who would eventually change Carolyn's life, for the better, considering he convinced her to take the baby to term anyway, among other things.

Meanwhile Atlas had become obsessed with the Reactor, so much so that he was there every waking moment. Davis Uberiso was starting to get concerned himself, wondering what Atlas was up to. Eventually it came to the big moment when the behemoth machine would be fully utilised for the first time.

It was meant to be a minor ceremony, but Atlas had crashed the party, shooting Davis Uberiso in the shoulder and preparing to infuse himself with the Reactor, thanks to the alterations he had made. He knew this would be irreversible, for once he was inside, no-one could pluck him out. He was about do so, when a female voice compelled him to halt and turn.

Out of the blue.. Bridget had shown up.

She had been contacted by one of Atlas' servants, who had told her everything, how the late Zeus had given the old rival student the upper hand back in high school and the motive to take Bridget away from Atlas. Finally had Bridget seen what was really going on and had tried desperately to find Atlas, only now, at the very last moment, seeing him, eye to eye, one more time. But it was too late by then. Atlas was all out of love. Compassion and nostalgia had long gone for his past... and a new future was dawning on him. After all, he couldn't walk away from this. He knew the ramifications if he didn't go ahead with it. He took one last look at Bridget, before stepping into the Reactor and becoming part of the process used to make inter-dimensional travel possible.

At that very moment too, had a baby been born. One that looked nothing like his mother or father, one who was truly his own identity. This person was the son of Atlas and Carolyn, who had been fully taken to term. By that stage, she had grown into a relationship with Morrie Chuuno, as well as them finding out who Atlas really was, when certain documents were leaked to them, by the same servant who was working to bring Bridget back to Atlas. Those documents would make their way to the Ministry of Science as well, who would keep such records on file as part of their 'Atom' research. They would soon learn that this new child, however, would continue that lore, well into the future.

That child, would be named Bowen.

Father and Son

Atlas had been out of Bowen's life for the most part, mainly figuring out how to move about thanks to the Reactor and get used to this new life of his. He could manifest his own world within it, a recreation of the old mansion he used to live in. Then at some point he could move about and see new worlds, being able to physically manifest and finally continue a part of his old lifestyle, that being of course, seducing women.

He also figured out that the Reactor had intensified his abilities. It was like he was almost unstoppable in that regard. Someone could shoot him and he'd disappear before the bullet would reach him, something he had tested out in a few areas where that could occur.

There was also a strange intrinsic link he had developed, that confused him at first. Strange thoughts of a child's day, school and the like, although the familiar voice of Carolyn would also reach him through such thoughts. That lead to a few discoveries. One, that the baby he had conceived had actually been born.. and was being raised and two.. that it seemed, because the two are both incarnations of Atom, that he could read his son's thoughts, his mind. This would definitely prove beneficial to him in the future. He of course learned to control such an ability to when he wanted it, so that it wasn't happening out of the blue.

While there were threats to try and extinguish him from the Reactor, Atlas had made it so that it could heavily corrupt the machine, which could leave horrifically devastating consequences on the universes in which it served. Such was the case that the Ministry found it best to leave him alone until a much, much safer solution can be found.

Atlas decided to come into Bowen's life when the latter was sixteen. By then the young boy had gone back in time and had already shot and killed someone. The meeting went as Atlas expected, the young Bowen being quite wary of Atlas, although Atlas remained calm and composed. His son looked like the images he had found in Zeus' records. The eyes, the hair, the face, everything. This teenager had to be a full Atom incarnation. What were the odds of that coming from him! No doubt he told Bowen that his life is going to change more and more as he gets older... and to ask his parents about him. Needless to say from then on, Bowen found a pretty good hatred for Atlas and for what he did.

Meetings that happened from then on, Atlas wasn't so kind. He would randomly show up to harass Bowen, even go so far as to beat him up on occasion. Atlas wondered how Bowen's life would go, though he knew his upbringing was much different to what Atlas had experienced. Bowen couldn't be corrupted like him, but he pondered as if one day in the future that Bowen could potentially end up like him, if the circumstances were right. He would be keeping a close eye on Bowen, just as Bowen is considerably wary of Atlas.. many people feel like Bowen might be the only one to stop Atlas, if the former's abilities develop far enough in the future.

Atlas does have an impression that Bowen is also being used as a weapon by the Ministry of Science, an impression that he finds quite amusing. Maybe that could be the catalyst for the blonde in the future, but Atlas didn't see a reason to bring his thoughts up, unless he ended up being insanely bored and felt like he could get a good laugh out of it.

Atlas does what he wants nowadays, though through reading Bowen's mind, he does find new avenues to explore, in most cases avenues being women, but in the long run he does have an ultimate goal. He has little disregard for humanity, even sentience as a whole. He feels the need for a clean slate is in order and to do that, the multiverse as a whole, must be purged. Such a task is beyond mammoth, something he can't even do right now, but he actively seeks avenues to increase his power, to grow it beyond what he could ever imagine, to get closer and closer to such a goal. He has told Bowen about this, for Atlas feels it's more fun to have oppression in the wake of such a goal.

Atlas must be stopped. It would be foolish to underestimate how far he can go.

Granted, depending on whom he meets, he might just keep a world separate for him and those he might come to like in the future.

Appearance, Personality and Abilities

Atlas stands at around 6'3, with noticeably blue hair and green eyes. His main attire consists of a white shirt, with royal blue pants and blazer. Underneath is either a red or blue waistcoat with a green tie.

Atlas is considered to be entirely self serving, looking out for number one. He has little disregard for anyone else but him and has no qualms about taking lives if it furthers his own gain. He's a heavy womaniser at well, pretty much seeking affairs whenever he can. There may be a chance he might develop a particular fancy to certain people, in which he might only sleep with such a person if that were to occur. This however, has yet to happen and therefore has not been tested.

He constantly harasses his son, Bowen Chuuno, both verbally and physically. There have been a few occasions where Bowen has been left severely battered because of Atlas. While he'll beat up Bowen, he has not once considered killing him, only using that as a last resort if he absolutely has to.

He's considerably more powerful than what a strong or fast human would be considered to be. He can't easily be taken down in a fight, especially when he can disappear at the last moment. He prefers to use fists and feet to fight, at great speed and agility, but has been known to use weapons like pistols and machine guns at times. He doesn't possess any further abilities in relation to Atom, such as energy amplification or manipulation, but whether or not there will be a need for such is uncertain. He might develop such abilities later, through the process of seeking more power, if he continues down that path in the future.

In truth, his future can be a bit open ended depending on the direction of an RP.

For most people though, do not approach, for he'll most likely approach you.

[holly-natnicole]

ME

Err... *sratches back of head* Whelp, this is awkward!! Fact is, my name is not Holly Keel; that has NEVER been my name. For the past 8 years, I experienced internalised racism where I despised my own skin as it makes me unable to blend in with people who are ethnically English, Finnish, etc.; I didn't hate myself 24/7 for the skin I have, but the hatred did happen often enough that I started using Holly Keel as a made-up alias on the Internet coz it made me sound like I'm not half-Eastern African. Weirdly enough, I've never disliked my eyes nor hair; both of those I actually have always liked. ...Well, except for when I sometimes want violet, sky blue, blood red, golden, silver or any shade of green eyes an' likewise-coloured spiky hair; although those are just coz I love the colours an' it's much more fun to draw O.C.s with 'em instead of trying to get coloured contact lenses or trying to dye & spike up my hair. Especially as all the colours would look bizarre in Real Life!! I used to go by Alexis Grim on YouTube, then switched it to Alexia Grim; now my username is Alex Grim an' I'll never change it. On DeviantArt, I go by NatNicole an' NatNicole75; I forgot my first account's password, so I ended up making a new account a few years ago. I'm also NatNicole on Fanfiction.net as well as ArchiveOfOurOwn. I like the username NatNicole!! *grins like K.H.3 Sora* Today, I decided (due to the courage of YouTuber Katzun , revealing some of the horrific hurt they has felt) it's time to admit ALL the facts. I'm a biromantic bisexual. My current legal name is {redacted} {redacted} Ali {redacted}; I'm gonna try to save up enough money in order to change it to {redacted} Alex Ali {redacted}, but feel free to call me Alex. I'm genderfluid an' my pronouns are not he, her, they or their; I used to feel fine with those five & just didn't care at all what gender people thought I had (usually the assumption was boy or girl based on what I was wearing at the time they saw me), but for simplicity's sake I don't want to use the 5 anymore. The pronoun which I like the most is Fnnish hän, but it feels too awkward to use when writing or talking in English; my pronouns are she/his/them (in English). Dunno how I'll deal with any languages that aren't Finnish or English, but I'll leave that thought for another day. *shrugs* Anyhoo, I hope this confession/vent post is clear enough & easy to understand; I'm Alex an' here's a few AW ES OME animatics (which obviously aren't mine) that I recommend as these 3 videos made me feel a lot of joy.

[mercenarypark]

medic hcs

Em made a big hc post for heavy a few days ago [here] and ive been meaning 2 finally do the same w/ medic bcause im gay

note: while i try to be brief about the details, this post is about a gay jewish man in Germany during wwii. to set aside any initial worries, no, he is never kept in the camps- as a jewish person myself it sickens me deep in my stomach to even think of that possibility. but there’s still mentions of n/zism and antisemitism, as one would expect.

also, a fair amount of the details of my medic hcs for his childhood are based on the german side of my family, primarily my grandfather and his father. while i still only know a little about my family history[tm], details like medic’s last name, how his family were able to lay low, etc, are based on the little bits and pieces ive heard from my grandmother #antisemitism #nazism #homophobia #transphobia #satanism #long post #text heavy #tf2 #gore text #medical abuse #malpractice #experimentation mention 

-Medic was born roughly around 1925- he’s in his early 40s around when the game takes place- to the name [redacted] Reichstein. the Reichsteins were reviled in their little town as mad doctors, which was at least somewhat true- they certainly weren’t shy to experimentation on body parts and [willing] subjects. but a good part of the hatred for them stemmed from Good Old Antisemitism, focusing their hate on the fact that they were an openly jewish family and saying that that must be influencing their occasionally morally dubious behavior

-for the longest time, though, people tolerated them- they were the only doctors around, after all. but as time went on, the disgusted glances turned to hate speech, turned to violent threats, and eventually, to violent actions.

-medic’s father, who had long since been debating on moving, finally packed the family up[against his wife’s wishes], and within a night, their home and lab were deserted.

-his father could tell that something terrible was coming. he brought down an ultimatum- they would have to abandon everything jewish about themselves in order to survive. medic was young, still, and didn’t fully understand the severity of why his father seemed so adamant that they never mention holidays they once celebrated, why their old family photos were torn and burned, why his mother was constantly reprimanded when her Yiddish roots showed through her accent

-medic’s father pulled a few favors, and before they moved into a new city, the family name was changed to Reich- a more acceptable, more German name. Reichstein could raise eyebrows, lead to questioning about jewish roots, but there have always been many Reichs in Germany.

-that’s also when Medic got his birthname changed to Ludwig, and he and his mother had to fight like hell for that. his father argued that the last thing they needed was another target on their back- if anyone found out that his son “wasn’t really a boy”, then that would bring the entire family under scrutiny and into danger.

-ludwig refused to take no for an answer. ludwig had always been someone who would rather die than pretend that he’s something he’s not, and this was one of the first signs of that. while he didnt fully understand his connection to judaism, yet, and thus didnt fight to keep it at the time; he DID understand that he wasn’t a girl, and by God did he refuse to pretend otherwise.

-eventually his father relented, though he never once forgot and throughout medic’s childhood, he would bring up how risky it was, how medic was potentially endangering them all.

-to clarify: his father DID technically accept his son being transgender, but he wanted him to repress it, ignore it, force it down and never bring it up, much like their jewish heritage. ludwig refused, and his father never liked that. [when ludwig grew older and became both openly gay AND became a practicing jew again, his father nearly had a fucking heart attack]

-ludwig was heavily isolated for most of his childhood after they moved, partially due to the war’s beginning, partially because his father was afraid of his son giving something away. he was homeschooled by his mother, and rarely left the house, instead spending most of his time playing with the family’s cockatoo, or in his father’s operating room, learning human anatomy

-this isolation[alongside his autism, and veritable cocktail of mental illnesses] helped contribute to medic’s general inability to understand how to interact with people- he is oblivious at the best of times, has no concept of personal space, rarely catches social cues, and has Awful attachment issues. he is overly affectionate with anyone he is even vaguely friendly with, he tends to ramble and talk about uncomfortably personal things without realizing its a bad thing, etc, etc, he is a mess and a half

-he does understand bits and pieces- for example, if he’s physically affectionate with someone, they tend to tense up, and try to get away from him, which means he’s doing something wrong. the problem is that he doesnt understand WHAT he’s doing wrong, or why it’s wrong[answer: he’s covered in blood and bird shit and holding at least one[1] human liver]

-speaking of physical affection, the first time engineer affectionately puts a hand on medic’s shoulder medic fucking freaks out because aside from his parents, NO ONE. no one has ever initiated Friendly Physical Contact with him. usually because theyre freaked out by him in some way. he has no idea how to cope with the fact that someone might actually think of him in a friendly manner to the point of expressing that physically [aside from sexually, which is a whole other story and a half]

-but im getting ahead of myself. the first time ludwig killed a man was when he was 17. a nazi soldier paid an unexpected visit to the Reichs. ludwig, scared for his family’s sake and overwhelmed with a boiling hatred for nazis that had simmered for all of his childhood, killed the man

-his father reacted violently, ranting that now they were doomed, but his mother helped ludwig destroy the body and evidence. by the grace of God, no other nazi followed up that visit- the soldier hadn’t told anyone where he was going, and there had been no witnesses to his visit. and germany was so chaotic at the time, that eventually the man's death was attributed to a previously unnoticed casualty in battle

-that was the first man ludwig killed, and also the first of many, many nazis. he spent a good stretch of his adult life hunting down nazis who had gone under the radar, trying to hide their past ties while still keeping the same disgusting views.

-as ive mentioned, in medical school, ludwig not only became openly gay, but returned to his jewish roots. no longer under his father's roof, and now that the war was over, medic saw no reason to hide aspects of himself any longer. and God help everyone who felt otherwise. especially once the most violently hateful dissenters, began to mysteriously disappear.

-throughout his adult life medic has had Multiple short term, non-serious relationships [including more than his fair share of one night stands], and maybe two serious relationships prior to heavy. neither of those ended well, citing ludwigs mental Fuckery as a big issue. speaking of, his mental fuckery has helped him get into at least a couple abusive relationships, which i wont detail beyond "he survived and healed".

-while he is Jewish, he is the kind of jew who criticizes god every step of the way. at least part of this is due to having to survive during the Shoah.

-the Shoah definitely fucked his mind up. the constant fear for his parents and himself, and the burning hatred for the nazis and everyone who agreed with them or stood back and let them take over, and just overall a horrible sense of helplessness, definitely contributed to a lot of his future mental fuckery, and to his feelings about God. as an adult, and as a doctor, he took the feeling of helplessness he had as a teenager, and flipped it around dramatically- if god didnt help him then, he’d have to become better than god. he would bring retribution where others didnt, and bring power and life to those god would not help.

-he sold his soul to satan sometime around his mid-30s. [this is a sentence that sounds really fucking weird if u dont know much about tf2.] there are a few reasons behind that, but im only gonna talk about one:

-as i've said, medic spent a lot of time murdering nazis who had tried to go into hiding. that's difficult when theyre trying very, very hard to cover up their past. medic struck a deal with satan- in exchange for the names, aliases, and locations of ex-nazis in hiding, he would kill them and send them straight to hell. his soul was just to sweeten the deal.

-ludwig does a Lot of experiments on captured and dead nazis, especially the painful ones. the ol' "removing a patient's skeleton" story was of a nazi officer medic had caught, and medical licence or not, ludwig would do it again in an instant

-medic's flock of homing pigeons, stolen from a wedding van, are like family to him. the original, stolen generation had more pretentious names, as named by their previous owner- mostly well known scientists and philosophers[Archimedes, Newton, Nietzsche, etc]. most of the pigeons he named himself have biblical, jewish names [Mordecai, Elijah, Rebecca, etc]

-ludwig is absolutely never prim, proper, or orderly. if he is wearing a coat that DOESNT have blood and bird shit on it, wait 5 minutes and check again

-he has a tendency to hyperfocus on something and forget things like "humans need food and water to live". heavy usually helps him remember

-medic snores. loudly. and it sounds fucking awful. heavy is, sadly, a very light sleeper. it takes a loooong time for him to finally be able to sleep through medic's snoring, and it winds up being one of the only things he actually CAN sleep through. god help you if you step on a creaky board halfway down the hall, though, because heavy will wake up in an Instant

-if tf2 were in modern times, ludwig's music taste would include a Lot of kesha, klezmer music, black metal, and so on. its varied, is what im saying

-medic, pyro, and soldier all get along surprisingly well together, because they all have a case of "same brain? same brain!", all of them have issues dealing with other people and have problems with processing/understanding things, have trouble w/ psychotic episodes and the like, overall their minds are all wired oddly but somehow they can understand /each other/

-scout accidentally becomes medic's unofficial adopted daughter and thats a whole post and a half on its own. suffice to say medic would do anything for her

-engie, demo, and medic are all Science Gays

-medic also does his best to help demo with his Absolutely Massive Amounts of Trauma and Self Loathing, by at least being a supportive shoulder to lean on when demo tries to drink himself unconscious to forget it all. hes absolutely terrible most of the time at actually saying anything to help, but he can be a good presence, and he has birds. birds help anything

-he has a very casual fling going with spy, since early on in their time at the base. its usually in a state of "on-again off-again", with the latter usually having something to do with how spy acts with scout.

-obviously theres a lot i could say about heavy and medic's relationship, but to put it briefly- theres a loooong time where both of them are "i dont understand social interaction" gays.

-medic is the "i literally dont understand how to act around people im attracted to or that me being extremely overaffectionate around you is due to the fact that im falling in love with you, i dont catch your vague hints towards the fact that you feel the same about me because you literally need to hit me over the head with something in order to get me to catch onto it" gay

-heavy is the "i have spent so many years repressing so much of myself and keeping quiet and not drawing attention to myself, that i physically cannot bring myself to be up front about the fact that im attracted to you. im also afraid of misintepreting signals and i am instead going to assume your over-affectionate attitude is platonic and i am misreading things" gay

-eventually they figure things out and its good and soft and gay

ok its 3 AM and ive been writing on this for at least an hour and a half and i told Em i would go to bed by now dhgfkhhj 

[riting]

Project Black Plague by Mikaal Sulaiman

Barry Brannum on Project Black Plague

SCORE FOR A BARELY VISIBLE ACTION: Let’s do what’s expected of us. Let’s give shadow a sound. Let’s be a whisper along the floor. Let’s let the small room do its work. Let’s sit, let’s hover, let’s crouch among who’s watching. Let’s get thinner. So thin, real thin, scary thin. Let’s be so slender we fall through floorboards. Let’s clatter in a pile, disposed of. Let’s not wait. Let’s let them. Let’s act implosion. It may seem like we’ve moved too fast (strobe flash). So? We’ve been shaved down by sight. So? (Just slivers.) Let’s be the obverse. Let’s shine loud. Let’s be a whir a whisk a whine snatched silk. Let’s not catch the crashing dishes. Let’s be the screech of ripping stitches.

Let’s let all this be a space. For a hmm, for the slow clap, for worried spines, for nervousness? And like, a question? And can you tell me? And what am I seeing? And do you belong here? And I get it? I think? And just give me it? And I feel like there’s anger here, it’s spreading, it’s bleak, it’s black, it’s like a cave. It’s thrumming and it spreads and it’s a net. Heavy with thick dark redaction. Let’s take shelter here. Think it’s a house for those who need and noise (TAPE HISS /// INCENSE /// CIG SMOKE) to those who don’t. Let’s burrow. Dig, if you will. What looking? What address? If you feel this, are in this, are this, you’re already here with me.

Barry Brannum is a dance artist and PhD student in the Department of World Arts and Cultures / Dance at UCLA. His artistic and academic work picks at the seams between everyday and choreographic embodiments of blackness.

Tasneem on Project Black Plague

This sonic cosmic journey asks of the audience to listen. To HEAR what it is like to experience life on earth. Via sonic Repetition and Ritual is Sulaiman beckoning us to understand what living life as a black male in America is like, experiencing the same thing over and over again. Violence, Hatred, Judgement. Project Black Plague Project Black Plague Project Black Plague The audience was asked to drink the Kool-Aid on a table w plastic cups which posed the fundamental question, Have I been drinking the Kool-Aid this whole time? I couldn't and still can't shake that question from my bones. The headphones provided a landscape of intimacy for me. Because of that I was able to connect to Project Black Plague in a more profound and intimate way. He’s talking to me. He’s telling me what it feels like to be in his body. He’s channeling those who came before him, those who died. He’s dying right before my very eyes only to awaken and tell his story again and again through sound and cigarettes, black balloons and bananas. The smell of incense lingers on as I cry and laugh and feel and cry again. For Trayvon. For Amadou. Take on Me by Norwegian pop Band A Ha plays and the Television glares at us with images we attempt to digest. Sulaiman whispers the lyrics liltingly and i join in tears streaming down my face: Take on me  ( take on me )  Take me on ( take on me ) I’ll be gone in a day or two… Project Black Plague. I’ll be back for more.

Tasneem is Writer Artist Musician & 3rd Culture kid based in LA.

Roz Naimi on Project Black Plague

There I sat in the catch-22 of Mikaal Sulaiman’s “Project Black Plague”--what does wellness mean for the patient who will always be the foil for everyone else’s psychic health? What is empathy when we are all trapped in our own genealogies of violence? Will you bop your head to A-ha or will you watch a history of suffering and perseverance on the screen in front of you? And have you dreamt about this room before?

Walking into the performance induced the sort of shame I've felt in the principal's office and the comfortable anonymity of a movie theatre. I get high off both. Its setting offers ways for you to be in the dark, with no one to see you but yourself.

This is about the audience, our illnesses, what Frank Wilderson calls "irreconcilable anti-blackness." A provocation: anti-blackness is a prerequisite for world-making in civil society. I am not interested in speaking on illness as an analogy, nor do I think “Project Black Plague” analogizes illness. Analogy mystifies rather than clarifies suffering. Anti-blackness is an illness through which I was taught to make sense of the world.

I couldn’t fully see Sulaiman. I don’t know if he could see us. His body is there, he's moving and talking, and surely my eyes were fixed onto him despite the minimal lighting.  This piece is exemplary of the ways a performance can’t work without a witness.

I’m talking about flesh and ephemera, not romance. And I think Sulaiman is too. “Project Black Plague” calls attention to the ephemera that non-black people want to elide. Memory is in your flesh. I was wearing a hoodie and every time I do I think of Trayvon. The deathlyness of social death. But the hoodie is not my social death. I could never really get comfortable perched on the bench in PAM and I know that was the point.

Roz Naimi is a poet who lives in Los Angeles.  

Project Black Plague happened at PAM Residencies December 13-14, 2017.

Mikaal Sulaiman is a director and sound designer creating in theatre and film. He works between traditional and experimental art and performance. His artistic background is based in the Jacques Lecoq physical theatre technique.

Photos and video by Mikaal Sulaiman and Tasneem.