#abstract thoughts of designs... finally got round to it

[calamarispiderart]

HMS Magical Girls: lets just get along!

aka, i draw hms as magical girls for fun

[bun-lapin]

Confessions

Summary: Vil confesses his love to you.

A/N: Fifth one shot complete and this time it's back to Pomefiore with Vil! This was a very nice one shot for me to write. It definitely got me thinking about more abstract topics such as beauty but also respect and self-worth. I know that some people might not agree with me but I've always viewed Vil as a stern but ultimately nurturing and caring person. Especially after reading his dorm uniform vignette <3

Confessions series: Rook, Kalim, Idia, Floyd, Vil, Silver, Leona, Trey / AO3

The late afternoon sunlight pours in through the windows of Pomefiore’s dormitory hallways and your steps, brisk up until then, slow for a brief moment to take in the beauty around you. The soft glow of towering candelabras and the golden light of the sun mix in the air luxuriously and send dazzling lines of radiance everywhere your eyes turn. Your vision is filled with the sparkle of gold and the gemstone hues of violet and deep red. Breathing in deep, you notice the faint smell of perfume and for a moment you feel like you are inside a priceless jewelry box.

You continue down the hallway and finally stop in front of a familiar door. Your hand rises to knock and announce your presence, but before you are able to, the door swings open unprompted. The smell of perfume you had noticed earlier seems to rush out through the open door and swirls extravagantly around you and the beautiful figure before you.

“You’re here,” Vil states evenly. Holding a variety of robes and shirts in his arms, he smiles gently at you before stepping back from the door to invite you in with a small wave of his hand.

You step into Vil’s room and take in the new sight of several clothes racks, filled to bursting with various styles of garments, lining one side of the room. You make your way to your usual seat in front of Vil’s ornate vanity table and sit facing him. “I got your message. You said you wanted my help picking an outfit for an event?”

Vil stands in front of a full length mirror and studies his reflection as he alternates holding an expensive looking tuxedo and an equally expensive looking dress against his body. He glances at you through the mirror’s surface and says, “That’s correct. The event is a small, somewhat informal event. An opening ceremony for a local theater company. I'm going as a courtesy to a director I've worked with before.” Not satisfied with either choice, Vil returns both to their spots on the clothes rack and begins making another round of selections.

You raise an eyebrow with curiosity as a sudden thought flashes in your mind and you ask, “Why me? Why don’t you get Rook to help you?”

Vil turns to face you and crosses his arms over his chest as he studies you carefully for a moment. Raising one arm to his face, he slowly taps one finger on his elegantly tinted lips as he seems to consider your question until finally, a quietly alluring smile blooms over his mouth. He answers simply, “Because I only want you.”

You feel a light blush spread over your cheeks and you smile a little shyly and self-satisfied from Vil’s straightforward response. Turning to face the vanity, you try to distract yourself by examining the various makeup products before you and ask, “So when is the event?”

Vil gracefully strides across the room and sets himself on a small chair next to yours, facing the vanity mirror. “It’s this weekend.” He reaches out across the table, selects a feather soft makeup brush and lightly dusts it in a container of fine powder. With gentle and deliberate movements, he swipes the brush across his cheeks and quietly asks you, “Would you like to go with me?”

You briefly think about your current plans for this weekend, which are just to sit in your room and study. After weighing that plan against a night surrounded by designer clothes and beautiful celebrities, you smile appreciatively at Vil and answer, “I’d love to go with you.”

Vil returns your smile through his reflection in the mirror and continues to silently apply the makeup brush across his face. You turn your head to study your own reflection and trace your eyes over the familiar curves and bare skin of your nose, your brows, your chin. You watch a thoughtful expression appear on your face as you hesitantly ask, “Do you think I need to wear makeup?”

The soft brush in Vil’s hands comes to a sudden halt at the sound of your question, pressed lightly against his cheek. After carefully setting the brush back in its original spot, Vil turns to face you and lightly touches your shoulder with a kind and reassuring gentleness. Although he smiles warmly at you, there is a touch of sadness in his voice and behind his eyes.

"My dear, as I have told you before, makeup is not about need. It's about want. Do you want makeup on yourself? For some it can be a tool to accentuate and emphasize. For others, it is like armor to give strength and self-confidence. At the end of the day, no matter what anyone says, it is your face, your body, and you alone have the right to do with it as you wish. Always remember this, my dearest one."

In silence, you carefully turn Vil’s words in your mind like precious jewels. The obvious care in his voice and in his soft smile cause a feeling of warmth to steadily radiate out from your chest like sunlight and you smile genuinely at your reflection and then at Vil’s in the vanity mirror. You whisper softly, with an indescribable mix of emotions in your voice, “Thank you.”

With his important message delivered to you, the undercurrent of sadness drops from Vil’s face and his smile now is only serenity and quiet adoration. Turning his gaze briefly to the vanity table, Vil selects a beautiful crystal bottle of scented oil and then holds his empty hand out to you in an expectant and familiar gesture. You softly place both of your hands into Vil’s upturned palm and wait for him to begin.

After carefully placing two shining drops on the backs of your wrists, Vil sets down the bottle of oil and begins to lightly press his fingers in a series of graceful, swooping movements into your hands. The pressure he uses is gentle but firm and the tension you had not even realized you had been holding in yourself, begins to melt away under his expert attention.

Vil smiles, satisfied, as he watches your shoulders droop and your eyes soften with relaxation. With a few final strokes of his fingers against your skin he finishes your small ritual and holds your hands, warm and tingling from his touch, in silence for a few moments. You watch his eyes, dream-like and mysterious, sweep over your entire face. He sighs softly, almost with longing, and murmurs, “Light of my life, you’re even lovelier than you realize.”

You feel an intense blush bloom over your cheeks and you turn your face away from Vil’s gaze with a small shake of your head. You start to stammer out some excuses, denying the label of “lovely” when you suddenly feel the tips of Vil’s fingers under your chin. With tender gentleness, his hand guides your head back to face him and you see a small frown delicately wrinkling his brows. Vil’s eyes shine with determination and his low voice is almost heartbreaking, tinged with quiet worry and want.

"Please don't look away from me. Please don't ever look away. Gather me up completely with your gaze and treasure me the way I treasure you. My darling, you're more than a jewel, more than fame or fortune. You are a miracle. You are everything."

With his hand still under your chin, Vil draws his face closer to yours and your vision is filled only with the pale smoothness of his skin and the gently sparkling lavender of his eyes. His voice, softer than twilight, whispers, “Dearest one, don’t ever deny the irrefutable fact that you are lovely. More than that, you are breathtaking. Soul and body, you are beautiful inside and out. The most beautiful of us all.”

Your eyes widen at the weight of his words and the depth of feeling you see in his face. From the touch of Vil’s hand on your chin, to the scent of perfume and oil, all of your senses are awakened in a way you think should make you feel dizzy but in reality, you just feel completely present. Surrounded in elegance and beauty, in care and tender attention, you feel like a radiant jewel shining out from within a magnificent crown.

Raising his hand from your chin, Vil gently traces the curving lines of your face with a gracefully extended ring finger. His deliberate movements subtly outline your nose, your brows, your chin, and you feel the devotion and desire in him like flashes of sweet summer lightning from his fingertip. After a few more moments pass like this, Vil lowers his hand and softly calls out to you, as if addressing a divine revelation.

“Light of my life, remember always that I love you. Now and forever.”

[mollykochblog]

FIT DESIGNING IDENTITIES

Session 1- 29/01/25

Today we started by a big talk and discussion about what identity means. In a personal and design sense. I learnt a lot about my professor and what it meant to him and I reflected on what I think of when I hear identity. We then broke off into groups of four to discuss our own identities and hear about other peoples. We were given multiple assignments next session 1- write up a page about what identity means to me, and what it means in general, 2- create a moodpboard about an identity I identify myself to (women?). I enjoyed this class as I learnt a lot about other people and I reflected about my own feelings and personality.

Homework-

Mood board- I focused on womanhood and my identity of being a woman.

Session 2- 05/02/25

Online lesson- today we met online and discussed some peoples identity essays and their mood boards. They ran through what they discussed and what their identity was. It was nice to hear from my peers and get another perspective as to how they interpreted the homework. For next session we have to pick apart our essays and chose 10 themes and then chose our favourite 3 and create some abstract art based on them.

I chose these 3 because I thought I could speak about them through abstract ways and art forms. I also relate these themes closely to my identity and think that I could create something personal and meaningful to me. After class I went onto Pinterest and 'its nice that' for some basic inspirations...

Session 3- 12/02/25

Today we ran through some peoples experiments and talked about their creative decisions and reasonings. My final 3 experimental pieces were-

Being alone, appreciating yourself

Womanhood

The ability to grow, visualise and change

After this we chose names out of a hat for who our client is. Mine is Daniel Rivera Solano. We went through our assignment for next week which is to read through all of their resources on the drive (creative brief, what is identity essay?, mood-board) and come up with some creative brand names and logo designs. I began by going through some of the sources professor uploaded for us and seeing what their values are and what qualities have gone into the project... JesseJessi’s identity for Tschüss gives the underground club a “Yeah, you can dance here” energy

Session 4- 19/02/25

Today I went through my analysis' of Daniel's identity- I realised I didn't love any of my name ideas so I decided to start again by creating lists of keywords of his moodpboard and his essay. I curated lists and then pulled out some name ideas 'label', 'password'. I was still slightly confused on what the project is supposed to be as its very open so I got slightly confused, however I spoke to professor about this and that the imagery I wanted to focus on was geometric and cubic shapes. He liked my name from before 'echo' and told me to go with that name as four letter names have lots of composition possibilities.

Our assignment is to find some possible font options and colour ideas and create some slides showing the fonts and colour combinations to show Daniel for next week. I created 4 based on 'echo/ECHO'.

Simple colour scheme, shows off the typeface against the background well, type is thick weight and heavy, 'c' is stylised and unique.

Yellow is 'echoey', bold and bright, type represents sound waves and geometric shapes, science feel to colour and type combination.

Black background means type stands out better, geometric cubed type reflects the abstract imagery that Daniel created well. Graphic and digital stylised.

Contrasting colours, wanted to try something completely different to show depth. Rounded type is more friendly, thin and thick are very different.

Session 5- 26/02/25

Today I got feedback for my 4 typefaces from Daniel and Professor and I gave feedback to Qi for my brief too. Qi showed me what ideas she had for her identity and I gave her some feedback. I really love the type face on the second pink slide as it feels very feminine and gentle. I like the first colour palette (blue) as it's not traditional 'girly' colours so I appreciate those. Feedback and things to try- maybe explore red/ beige colour palette and go further with the second type face.

Her work-

I spoke to Daniel to get some feedback for my type face ideas and he really liked the second typeface and yellow colour palette which is good as that is also my favourite. He felt that the horizontal lines on the E and H were maybe too choppy so could I alter those and adjust the font a bit to his own preferences. He also mentioned to maybe try a thicker width for the second type face but it doesn't exist so I would have to customise it myself. Feedback- go back to the moodpboard and explore the colour palette he used for that as it was very bright and colourful and maybe explore those colours.

I then spoke to Professor and he also loved the second type face and the yellow colour palette. He said it was clean and the personality and theme is clear which is great and makes for a successful identity.

Homework- create one poster design/concept for an event for 'echo'. Consider what they do, who they are, why do they exist and what do they promote.

Session 6- 05/03/25

Today I found a really cool project when looking for competitors-

Homework- begin poster mockups, begin designing a unique advertisement- eg. VR

[sciencestyled]

Neuroaesthetics: The Brain's Bizarre Ballet in the Circus of Art

Ladies, gentlemen, and sentient algorithms, gather ‘round for an expedition into the wacky, wild world of neuroaesthetics! Picture, if you will, an arena where Salvador Dalí is arm-wrestling Albert Einstein while Banksy spray-paints their shoes with quantum equations. Yes, my friends, we’re diving headfirst into the baffling brain circus that is the science of how we perceive art and beauty!

Now, what in the name of Groot's left boot is neuroaesthetics, you ask? It's the delightful mash-up of neurons and aesthetics, the study of how our gray matter throws a rave every time we lay eyes on something pretty. Imagine your brain as the DJ, mixing beats of visual stimuli with a heavy bassline of emotional response, crafting a psychedelic experience that’d make even Doctor Strange need an aspirin.

Our cerebral DJ starts spinning tracks when we encounter art. Imagine gazing at the Mona Lisa; your neurons start throwing a party like it’s Coachella. This brainy bash involves the visual cortex, which processes what you're seeing, and the limbic system, your emotional epicenter, going “Oh la la!” faster than a cat video goes viral. It's a neural conga line, people!

Let’s geek out with an example, shall we? Imagine stepping into an art gallery. You saunter past a minimalist canvas that looks like a toddler's spaghetti accident and boom—your brain lights up like Times Square. Researchers have discovered that different art styles trigger unique neural patterns. Your noggin has a sophisticated palate, appreciating a Picasso with the same nuanced delight it shows for a perfectly executed TikTok dance challenge.

But wait! This isn’t just about the highbrow art snobs nodding sagely at a Pollock splatter. No, even the hilariously kitschy dogs-playing-poker paintings are in on the act. Studies show that familiar and nostalgic images can zap our brains with more dopamine than a Black Friday sale at a comic book store. It’s like your neurons are high-fiving each other, yelling, “Remember that!?”

Neuroaesthetics isn’t just about looking at pretty pictures, though. Oh no, it’s about how art tickles our brain in the most delightful ways, influencing our perceptions, emotions, and even our decisions. Ever wonder why you can't walk past a donut shop without drooling like Homer Simpson? It's all in the neuroaesthetic sauce, my friends. Visual cues can trigger hunger, happiness, or even existential dread—like when you realize your favorite show got canceled after a cliffhanger finale.

Now, let’s talk impact. The study of neuroaesthetics is like giving the Hulk a paintbrush—it’s smashing! It deepens our understanding of the connection between the brain and art, transforming both how we create and appreciate it. Artists can now craft pieces designed to provoke specific neural reactions. Imagine a painting that makes you feel like you've just downed an espresso shot with a side of inspiration. That’s the neuroaesthetic magic at play.

Art is no longer a passive experience; it’s an interactive, brain-bending escapade. Think of immersive VR art installations where you’re not just looking at the art; you’re inside it. Your brain's response isn't just a “Hey, that’s cool,” but a full-on neural mosh pit. It's like stepping into the Matrix, but instead of dodging bullets, you’re dodging abstract concepts and emotional revelations.

And let’s not forget the therapeutic potential. Neuroaesthetics can help in mental health treatments, using art to rewire the brain in positive ways. It’s like having Bob Ross as your personal therapist, gently coaxing your mind into happy little trees of thought. Studies have shown that engaging with art can reduce stress, boost creativity, and even enhance cognitive functions. It’s brain yoga with a paintbrush!

But what’s the deal with science and art? They’re like the ultimate power couple, merging logic with creativity, and neuroaesthetics is their love child. This field bridges the gap between two realms often seen as polar opposites, showing us that the analytical and the artistic aren’t just coexisting—they’re collaborating like Avengers assembling against Thanos.

Let’s take a detour down the wild highway of pop culture. Remember the moment in Avengers: Endgame when Thor wields both Mjolnir and Stormbreaker? That’s your brain wielding science and art, harmonizing them into a force that’s both powerful and profoundly beautiful. And just like the Hulk, who’s both brains and brawn in Endgame, neuroaesthetics shows that our brains are as much about feeling as they are about thinking.

In conclusion, neuroaesthetics is like the secret menu at a brainy fast food joint, serving up a heady mix of the beautiful and the cerebral, the quirky and the profound. It’s a rollercoaster of neural fireworks, a mash-up of Van Gogh’s starry nights and Da Vinci’s anatomical precision, all orchestrated by the most complex organ in the universe. So next time you gaze at a work of art and feel your neurons do the cha-cha, remember, it’s not just pretty—it’s science, baby!

And there you have it, folks! A whirlwind tour of neuroaesthetics, where your brain and art have a cosmic dance-off in the grand arena of human experience. Until next time, keep those neurons dancing and the art appreciation flowing. Ciao!

[interlunium-opus]

▶︎ DANCING WITH THE DEVIL. [Sunghoon.]

Abstract: You've always felt it in your guts that something is off about the campus heartthrob, Park Sunghoon. Being more of a rational person however, you tried to bury such gut instincts, chalking the dislike towards his wealth and pretty privilege instead. Not that your feelings matter though, you two are two world's apart, which means you two are bound to never get any closer. That is, until an ill-timed encounter with him at a party seemingly have led your worlds to collide because since then, he grew into a looming presence in your daily life. He was always around and always watching. The more you tried to avoid him, the closer he got and eventually you were forced to spend more time with him than you ever wished to. The more time you spent with him though the more you discovered that he was far from the arrogant airhead you pictured him to be, he was in fact, smarter and more diligent compared to the average Joe. In other words, your negative impression of him all these while had never been more wrong. Or so you thought. Because of the rare times your gut instincts turn out to be correct, it was actually for this one too -- but by the time you realize it, you already had your guards down.

⌈ parts ‣ #001 | ‣ #002 | ‣ #003 | ‣ #004: Prelude | ‣#004: Finale⌋

Genre: vampire!sunghoon | horror | thriller | fantasy |||| wc: ~21.1k

Warnings: blood; slight suggestiveness; mentions of crimes (missing persons, murder, serial killings); manipulation.

Taglist: @axartia

© 2022 interlunium-opus. All rights reserved. Do not plagiarize, post or translate anywhere.

“He’s staring at you again,” Sunoo, your bestfriend, whispered, “Park Sunghoon, I mean.”

You followed Sunoo’s gaze and indeed staring back at you from across the lecture theatre was the campus heartthrob, Park Sunghoon, with gaze unflinching even after you had caught him staring. What a psychopath, you thought to yourself when suddenly, as if reading your thoughts, one corner of his mouth lifted forming a coy smirk, catching you off guard and forcing you to break the eye contact. 

This was in fact not the first time that he had seemingly engaged you in some sort of silent unprovoked and unsolicited rounds of staring contest. It was the third time for this week alone. So far however, you hadn’t been winning — not especially when his stare had always have this sort of unexplainable intensity that pierces right into you, in spite of the distance, as if threatening to bore holes into the back of your mind. Perhaps that is what people were talking about when they harp about just how ‘magnetic’ or ‘hypnotising’ his gaze are. Though to you they felt rather unnerving and invasive. Like that of an old painting whose eyes seem to follow you wherever you move in the room.

“it’s all in your head Sunoo,” you replied dismissively, shifting your attention back to the board where the professor had just written down some important takeaways from last week's reading on Hobbes' Leviathan.  

“You wish it was. Pretty boy is still staring by the way,” Sunoo clicked his tongue, “at this point, either you had crossed him or he’s got a crush on you.”

“That’s a whole load of rubbish,” you elbowed Sunoo, trying to get him to shut up so you can continue concentrating in class and stop hearing anything about Sunghoon especially when you already get an earful on the daily from his horde of fangirls who are always singing praises about his looks, his stature, his manner and his wealth. Unlike the rest of the campus though, you have never had a good impression of Sunghoon. Born with both good looks and wealth, no example best display wealth and pretty privilege better in campus than him and his pretty friends who struts around in campus clad in all designers with special parking spaces reserved for their Teslas, Benz and Beemers while also having a whole room in campus dedicated for their hangouts like some sort of a secret student society.

Now and then though, in between the blind praises, you can hear wicked rumours spoken in whispers about these boys: their underground and political connections; all the drugs and booze; nepotism; and the list goes on. It’s unsurprising just how rumour-abound these boys are though. Afterall, not much is known about their families except that they are rich and powerful that no one in their right mind would dare to cross them. Legends are abound of what befell those who did cross them or their family, none of which end well: they either fall to the bottom rung of society or disappear off the face of the earth. 

“And he is still staring, go figure,” Sunoo scoffed, leaning back on his seat with arms crossed, looking offended as if he had been the one getting the stare down,  “You sure you haven’t done anything y/n?”

“Dude, what could I possibly have done when all I do is stay cooped up in the library or at home?” you retorted as a matter-of-factly. That was however a lie — though only partially. Truth to be told, you had a vague assumption as to why Sunghoon has been shooting daggers through his eyes at you. You believed it could be traced back to a party hosted two weeks ago by Jay Park, one of those influential one in Sunghoon’s circle, which Sunoo had dragged you into.

Long story short, in an attempt to escape the rowdy crowd, you wandered around their bachelor pad in search of quieter corners only to stumble upon Sunghoon making out with the Cheer Captain in one of the empty living rooms upstairs. You remember scoffing at the sight, suddenly reminded of all the A’s Sunghoon has gotten for all his Economic modules despite his absences in classes. Well, that’s a no brainer since he’s dating the Faculty Head’s daughter, you thought to yourself, still grimacing at the sight of her straddling his lap with her head thrown back as he feverishly buried his head on the crook of her neck. 

Sunoo would have loved a shot of this for his gossip column, you thought to yourself when suddenly you feel something shifting in the atmosphere. The next thing you knew, Sunghoon had lifted his head up, his eyes meeting yours immediately and directly in such a chilling precision as if he knew exactly that you had been standing right there and watching. In that instance, you swore, you felt the temperature in the room drop while the lighting around the hall grew dimmer. You remember swallowing thickly and backing up slowly, feeling small under the weight of his intense gaze and what seemed like an inhuman glint in his eyes which had sent shivers down your spine. You took off not long after, out of the hallway, out of the loft, not even bothering to tell Sunoo that you were leaving early.

That was when it all started, you reckoned. Because since then, you turned from seemingly being invisible to him to being in his radar.  Whenever your eyes accidentally landed on him in campus, you’d find that he was already staring but unlike any normal person who would have immediately stared away, he would maintain the eye contact as if wanting you to know that he had been meaning to stare. His lips would then often twist into a wry smile as if taunting you. It was as confusing as it was annoying because with all the stare down, it was almost as if you had witnessed him murdering the girl rather than making out with her. 

“I have a really bad feeling about this though,” Sunoo grumbled, interrupting your train of thoughts.

You scoffed, “I’ve told you a million times before that his vibes are always off — not that you’ve ever believed me anyway.”

Whatever, it will pass, you reassure yourself. 

Except it didn’t and nothing could have prepared you for just how badly things would unravel with Sunghoon.

“I just saw the announcement on the board earlier,” you said the moment you took a seat next to Sunoo the next day in Macroeconomics class, “the cheer captain got replaced?”

“Whoa whoa whoa, who are you and what have you done with y/n? She would be caught dead reading announcements from that corner of the hallway — if anything she’d be frequenting the notice board next to the City Hall instead — the one with the missing people and whatnot,” Sunoo remarked sarcastically before schooling his expressions after you shot him a glare, “I’m sorry. I repent.”

“Anyways, as I was saying, isn’t the match coming? Why is she suddenly getting replaced?” You repeated, taking your laptop out as more students rushed into the lecture theatre, filling it up with cacophony of noises.

“Well, the official story is that she fell off the pyramid and broke her leg. Since the match is coming, they can’t afford a limping captain can they? So off she went,” Sunoo answered sassily before smirking, “would you like to hear what I heard through the grapevine instead?”

“No-“

“Heard girlie is pregnant,” Sunoo cut you off, flashing a triumphant grin.

“Dude,” you gasped, looking around to make sure no one had heard it, “what did I say about rumors — if you don’t see it with your own eyes or hear it with your own ears, you pipe it not spread it.”

“Uh, if the shoe fits,” Sunoo quipped with a shrug, “Also, come on. I write one of the most highly-demanded columns in our campus newspaper so my sources are reputable.”

“Define reputable,” you answered sarcastically but Sunoo just ignored you as he began again, “As I was saying, she has been acting all sorts of weird lately — lethargic, forgetful, dazed — well you name it. She hardly attended practice and when she did, she could not execute her moves well at all. The next thing you know, she fell off the pyramid and broke her leg. Since the competition is coming up, they can’t be waiting around for her so they decided to swap the cheer captain. Must be devastating for her though — girlie is so ambitious to top everything, the cheer, and social circle and well, it’s all dust now. Doubt Sunghoon would stick around anymore, that boy got the hots only for the IT girls and well, she’s a has been now.”

“Good morning class,” the professor entered the room, silencing everyone almost immediately, including you two. All of sudden, the image of the cheer captain feverishly making out with Sunghoon from the other night popped into your mind. Your eyebrows knit in disgust at the memory.

“Anyways, maybe that’s why Sunghoon has got the hots for you as of late,” Sunoo giggled, jutting his chin out forward, beckoning you to follow his gaze. To your horror, sitting across of you in the front row, at the opposite side of the theatre, was Sunghoon, already staring back at you.

“I just realised that he has been taking front row seats too as of late, just across of us. They have always sat at the back, or just didn’t show up at all. Coincidence? Me think not," Sunoo winked at you, smirking mischievously.

“Can you stop? He is not staring at me," You rolled your eyes with disdain, "and I don't know why they have started to sit at the front. Maybe they've come to their senses and have started to realise that they should work hard in classes like the rest of us instead of bloody buying their way in all-”

“Y/N.” 

You jolted slightly in your seat, startled, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. You bit your lower lip anxiously, wondering if the professor had called your name out to reprimand you for talking in class. Fortunately, that was not the case. Instead, you became this week's victim for his usual surprise Q&A, "Last week we spoke about policy dilemmas especially in this era of new normal. Based on the reading I have asked you guys to do, what do you think is the best policy prescription that countries can adopt now considering the persistency of volatilities?” 

“You got this girl,” Sunoo quickly whispered while giving your hand a quick squeeze for support. You squeezed it back, before standing up to answer the professor's question, "At this stage, whether we like it or not, fiscal stimulus is highly needed because the inflation represents like a double-whammy to a the battered society. If we don’t help protect people’s rights to an adequate living standard in light of current situation, not only will their welfare be heavily compromised but the economy would slide into a recession due to the stalling demand which would leave the government with more thorny problems to solve.”

The professor nodded in agreement. As he opened his mouth to praise your answer however, another hand rose up from the crowd — it was Park Sunghoon. 

“Sorry Professor, I’m sure that that is indeed a true solution for certain times but we are potentially entering a new era in which inflation levels might stay elevated so if we continue to cater for the masses through fiscal stimulus — we’d be chasing pavements especially since the problem are also heavily driven by supply-side constraints. If anything, I believe it is time to pull back on the demand-side to lessen the pressure on prices,” Sunghoon explained, his eyes fixated on you throughout as if it had been a two-person debate with you instead. As soon as he finished, the corners of his lips twisted into a smug grin as if proclaiming victory. Unlike other times when you stared away, this time you held his gaze. Your brows furrowing in vehemence as this had been the umpteenth time that he had raised his hand to counter your points.

Normally, you wouldn’t even bat an eye to it. After all, you love listening and engaging in healthy debates. But with Park Sunghoon, it felt oddly personal, like he was trying to one-up you at everything — as if he had got a personal vendetta against you. Just like his unsolicited staring contests, he had begun countering any points you present forward, turning a simple Q&A from the professor to you, into a debate between you and him — an unsolicited debate, that is. Regardless of the modules, he would always find a contrasting argument to yours — trying to beat you as if someone was keeping score. 

Calmly you argued back, “I agree that that is a good argument against the use of fiscal stimulus but we are not facing just another one-off policy problem. We are also in a crisis. If we don’t protect people’s pre-crisis living standards, not only will their welfare be heavily compromised, demand could plunge and pull the economy down the recession rabbit-hole. So until the economy is decisively restarting, we need fiscal stimulus to continue fuelling the gears of the economy. Then we can wean them off it and tap on other policy tools like monetary policies. Not to mention the use of fiscal stimulus can also help address some of the supply-constraint problem that drove up inflation in the first place as it could also be channeled towards re-employment, investment, expansions and so on.”

“Wow,” the professor gave an applause, a proud smile adorning his lips, “You two indeed have showed the crux of the policy dilemma that countries face. While in normal times, both of your policies are perfect solutions — in crises, they can become a double-edged sword. So the answer is often in weighing the risks carefully — to weigh which policies should be leveraged more on further, for how long and how to ease it off in the mid-long term to prevent adverse implications from fossilising. Good job you two. I haven’t seen such contentious debates in a long time — I can die peacefully now.”

The class roared in laughter along with the professor as you two sat back down, eyes still on one another, the smirk never leaving Sunghoon's lips and the scowl never leaving your face. At this rate, it really did seem like he was one-upping you. That he had a bone to pick with you.

As soon as the class ended, best believe Jay was the first to poke fun at Sunghoon’s active participation in the lecture. With a sharp-angled jawline that looked like it could cut glass, and sharp deep-set eyes that are well-framed with strong arched brows — Jay is very masculine-looking and can come across as very intimidating. Despite that however, he is actually the social butterfly and the jokester in Sunghoon’s little clique. In other words, if you get pass his intimidating looks, he is actually the easiest to befriend and get along with.

“Are you trying to switch your reputation from being the campus heartbreaker to the campus nerd?” He raised his eyebrows as he sat on the table, waving at some of guys and girls that passed by who greeted him before they exited the hall, “You have been on a bloody roll in lectures and seminars these days. At this rate, you’ll end up as the teacher’s pet. Unless of course, that’s what you wanted, wait— is there a MILF that you’re trying to impr-“

“I’d wash your mouth with bleach if I could,” Jake smacked Jay by the arm. Jake, the blonde one, with the chiseled face, wide smile and plump lips, on the other hand, looks like the easiest to approach as he gave off Golden Retriever vibes though he is actually one of the most cunning one in the group with a penchant for flirting. “Nothing is hotter than a man with both looks and brains so whatever shit Sunghoon is trying to pull, I’m pretty sure it will bring more girls which translates to, more meals,” he added, snickering.

“Yeah, your mouth will get half of that bleach too Jake,” Heeseung chided, taking a jab at Jake as he joined them, “what did I say about being less explicit and crude when conversing? Do I have to print out a proper glossary for you guys? I have a reputation to uphold as part of the Student Body remember?”

Heeseung is the oldest one in the clique, the one that is pretty much the boy of every parents’ dream: handsome, an honor student, head of the Student Union and pretty much an ace, being able to master almost anything he decides to dabble into. Being the ”oldest“, he takes it upon himself to make sure the boys behave and do not step out of line.

“Pfft, loosen up,” Jay sneered, “most of the suspicious things we say are taken as innuendos anyways so we’re good. Had this been the 17-18th century however, we’d be burnt at stake.”

“That’s because your crowd are mostly those kind of people-“ Heeseung rolled his eyes at Jay before noticing Sunghoon spacing out next to them, “hey pretty boy stop staring at her, you’re burning holes.”

“Right… what is up with you lately,” Jake elbowed Sunghoon, “Found a new potential toy? A meal?”

“Might be a pest but I still can’t decide yet,” Sunghoon answered flatly, arms crossed as he leaned against the table behind him, eyes fixated on you. 

“Well for a pest, you sure are taking your sweet time brooding over it,” Jay mocked, “Have the accident with your most recent toy gave you some sort of trauma?”

“I wish I had made it into a real accident myself, then I wouldn’t have to deal with her calls,” Sunghoon scoffed, seeing his phone lit up for the umpteenth time from the same person this week: the Cheer Captain.

“Can’t you pick up her call at least once?” Heeseung sighed, “you owe her that much after ruining her life.”

“Don’t be overdramatic, it’s just a broken leg,” Sunghoon’s lips curled into a wry smile, showing a lack of remorse, “Also, how is that my fault? It occurred like a few days after that night so it’s all on her. She should’ve gotten a transfusion or get an energy drink if she feels lightheaded or weak.”

Heeseung sighed. This is the thing about Sunghoon — he has no tact at all which sometimes meant that Heeseung has the be the one cleaning up some of the little mess he stirs up. But then again, it is still much better compared to the mess that Jay and Jake stirs from being the more flamboyant, reckless and hot-blooded ones in the group. 

When Sunghoon looked back up from his phone, you were already done packing your things up, sharing a hearty laugh with the pale guy next to you as you two made your way out of your row. Sunghoon grabbed his backpack, looking like he was about to walk up to you. He was a step too late though as a red-haired guy beat him to it, greeting you loudly with a dimpled smile. He recognized the boy since his face was always plastered over the University’s notice board and paper. He’s the campus Taekwando champion, Yang Jungwon. 

“Tonight?” Sunghoon heard him ask you. You nodded, answering, “Yep, same place and time yeah?”

With that you headed out of the room, paying absolutely no attention to Sunghoon, as if he did not exist. Sunghoon scoffed, that was one of the growing list of things that irked him about you. The fact that you never showed him any other expressions than that of disinterest and contempt — the latter of which has to even be purposefully elicited from you such as by publicly countering your points in class and whatnot. He didn’t know why this irked him so much when he is already smothered with so much interest and attention already on a daily basis from half of the uni’s population, and you’re just one person, of no significance to him.

Whatever it was, he did remember when it all started though — it was the night of the party. As if imprinted into his brain, he remembered your expression of disgust during that night. The way you scoffed and rolled your eyes when you saw him with the Cheer Captain. He knew full well that you did not clearly see what he was doing but the expression struck a chord in him.

He was getting sick of the Cheer Captain and her constant need of attention and affection. His mind was also starting to tread dangerous waters, thinking of how unfair the relationship was on him. After all, she got everything and anything a human could possibly want in a relationship by dating him: a hot boyfriend with looks, brains and wealth, which in turn also shores up her reputation as the IT girl in campus. But there was honestly nothing to be gained for him from dating her, except for making him appear more humane, in Heeseung’s words, and perhaps to satisfy his carnal desire, though he hadn’t even have much of that to satisfy in the first place. She would go through lengths though to make sure it is fulfilled but at the end of the day, it still felt lacking for that was not the hunger and desire that he really needed to satiate. 

Unbeknownst to him, his head had travelled down her neck, triggering his own hypersensitivity towards the blood that was coursing through her veins. In the dangerous cocktail of thoughts and proximity, his throat dried up and his mind went on free-fall as soon as he sank his teeth onto her neck. He could feel himself losing control but he didn’t care, he was really getting sick of her, of everything — he could take care of another dead body easily so he thought, why not?

So he did. The euphoria, especially after depriving himself of fresh blood for a long time was off the charts. But it did not last long for he felt someone else’s presence nearby. As he lifted his head up directly towards the direction of that presence, he met your gaze, your face already contorted in a grimace at the sight. Being quite a prideful as a person, he did not take the your look of disgust well — not when it came from a mere mortal whom he could have killed in a heartbeat. But of course, that was not the sole reason as to why Sunghoon got so worked up. See, Sunghoon was always praised for his ability to restrain himself from devouring human for their blood. Unlike other vampires, he actually preferred to stick to bagged-blood diet for sustenance instead of hunting or preying on mere mortals. Other vampires might see this as discipline of the greatest form — something exemplary and someone worthy of utmost respect especially since times have changed which forced them to be extra cautious at liberally hunting human just for their blood. 

But the real truth is actually not so rose-tinted though it is something that only Sunghoon himself knew. Despite Sunghoon being amongst the elite of the vampire classes — the one with the pure-blood lineage, old money, and diverse and high education background — deep-seated within him was a hatred of his own nature. He loved control and order. With his wealth, intelligence, looks, charisma and magnetism — it was not difficult at all to either maintain or gain such control and order. The only thing that he failed to control was his thirst for blood when it does dawn. For a being that is supposed to be one step higher than mere mortals, the sight and smell of blood can immediately deprive his kind from any sense of rationality and free will — the satiation of which turns even the most noble into a beast, basically no different than an animal. Him notwithstanding. He hated that feeling — of losing control, of letting his hunger overthrow his rationality and consciousness. The disgusting aftermath of which serve as a reminder just how much of an animal their kinds can be. It all just feels like a vulnerability to him. Hence, he begun to depend on bagged-blood instead. Aside from being fuss and mess-free, a plus for a rather fastidious lad like himself, he won’t lose control. The constant uptake of which also help keeping him well-satiated which in turn helps him to withstand any direct exposure to human blood. But then again, he is loaded with lots of connection so it is relatively easy for him to source them. For other lower-class and average vampires however — they have little to no choice. Of course, he has not completely abandon such dietary needs yet. He still prey on people if they are easily accessible to him, which is pretty much all the time, given how people just buckle easily under his charm, wit and personal magnetism without him having to do much. It’s like they just willingly serve themselves on golden platter for him. Still, compared to other vampires, he always displayed more class and restrain when hunting/preying which explains his rather low body count. 

This is therefore why your expression of disgust that night, when he had lost control of himself in what he would have described a ‘moment of weakness’, struck a nerve in him. It was as if you were taking a jab at his deep-seated inferiority complex. You, a mere nobody and a mere mortal. Anger thus immediately rose within him at that time, as evidenced by the the drop in temperature and the dimming of lights in the room which reflect the sudden shift in his energy. Long forgotten was the limp body in his embrace for all he saw was you. Vexed, it occurred to him there and then to hunt you down and make you the next cold case in town though Heeseung came in just in time to warn him that he was almost draining his trophy girlfriend bloodless, kicking some sense into himself and stopping him from preying on another poor victim. 

Ever since then however, he cannot help but pick you out in the midst of the crowd, only realising that you two shared a few modules together as if you are just destined for him to mess with. He ran with it. Without realising however, in the midst of the constant in his life that was becoming boring, you somehow became a new point of interest in his life with your quirks and habits. Like a scientist fixated on a specimen, that is. Not to mention, he was beginning to enjoy the micro-change in your expressions which he can elicit from you just by staring you down or engaging you in a debate. 

“Well, if you need a new toy,” Jay slung an arm over Sunghoon’s shoulders, transporting him back to reality, “I know one that is just as perfect as your previous one. I happen to know that the new Cheer Captain got the hots for you — how does a new trophy girlfriend sounds like? She is also hosting a party tonight so you know…”

“You can take her,” Sunghoon cut him off, shoving Jay’s arms off his shoulders, “I’ve got more interesting thing to do.”

“You’re early.” 

You hear soon as the door of the personal study room you were in creaked open behind you. 

“You mean, you’re 5 minutes late?” You retorted as you swivelled around, expecting to see Jungwon, your partner for your Macroeconomics project. Instead of the red-haired cat-eye lad however, you were greeted by Park Sunghoon — the last person on earth you would expect to bump into in the library.

“You don’t look very happy to see me,” he said flatly as the door closed behind him, “I’m offended.”

“Uhh, this room is occupied and booked — in case the sign outside isn’t clear enough,” you replied curtly, “I’ve booked this room a week ahead already so you can’t just barge in and take this room okay? Follow procedures for once.”

“Well, someone already has a clouded opinion of me apparently,” he smirked, grabbing the chair that was across of you to your side, “you should consider being nice to me now. I’m your new project partner afterall.”

You stared at him in disbelief as he calmly sat down, “New partner? No, that can’t be right. It’s been 3 weeks, why would the professor suddenly change my partner?”

“Well, it’s not like the assignment of project partners have a statute of limitations,” Sunghoon shrugged before propping up his chin with his elbow on the table, facing you, “Regardless, I’m your new partner so get over it. I’m Sunghoon by the way.”

“Um duh, your notorious reputation precedes you, I know your name,” you replied as a matter-of-factly, flipping the pages of your notebook.

“I’m touched,” he smirked, “I know yours as well, it’s y/n.”

“mmhmm,” you gave him a quick glance, looking uninterested and unimpressed, before your eyes travel from the mind-map in your notebook to the opened email app in your laptop, “Let’s just crack on then. So, Jungwon and I have already discuss the potential structure and have also divided the tasks between ourselves. The parts highlighted in turquoise are his and in yellow, are mine. So far we have been doing the groundwork research for our respective parts. We are meant to meet again next week to piece them all up together and see what kind narrative we can go for in response to the question. But now that you’re here…” you drummed your fingers against the table, assessing the mind-map of work division on your notes, “the most straightforward way to divide the task between you and me would just be for you to take up Jungwon’s share and just continue where he left off. But I can see how that can be unfair since you weren’t the one agreeing to those share of subtopics in the first place so if you find any of the topics that I am currently doing more easy or comfortable to venture into — feel free to take them, I’ll switch them with yours. Don’t worry, I’ll hand over all the research and analysis I have done so far so you can build on it should you wish to pursue them.”

You looked up, slightly startled to see his face so close next to yours as he peered over to see your notes while calmly reassuring you, “don’t worry, I’ll take his share. You can just continue with yours.”

“If you say so,” you nodded in acknowledgement, quickly scribbling some notes on the mindmap, “Moving on. Like I said, we were meant to meet again next week to piece it all together. But, since you’ve just jumped in, I would have no problem postponing that — just let me know whenever you’re ready. Maximum by the end of this month I guess? So that we can have the structure and a definite direction ready at least.”

With a smug grin, he leaned back, “Oh please, no need for that. I’ll get it ready by next week. It would be as if nothing had changed.”

“That’d be perfect then,” you replied before shutting your laptop close, “I’ll email you the materials, template and some references.”

“That’s it?” he raised his eyebrows, watching you pack up.

“Unless you have any questions?”

“Not really,” he shrugged, “just thought we’d be doing it together.”

“We will. But at this stage it would be more efficient to do some of the deep research individually since there are so many grounds to cover,” you explained, “And since it’s individually done at this stage — we don’t have to stay together. I’m pretty sure you’d rather be anywhere but here and be with anyone but me anyway.”

“That’s not true. I could have just sent you a text or an email if I didn’t want to spend time with you don’t you think?” 

You scoffed, slinging your backpack over your shoulder as you headed for the door, “See you next week, just email me if you have any questions or anything.”

Without sparing so much of another glance nor a wave, you exited the room. 

“How annoying,” he muttered as soon as the doors close. Though seemingly looking calm and unperturbed, his clenched fist and the slight twitch of his eyebrows indicated otherwise. Suddenly, the lights throughout the library flickered, startling everyone including yourself, who had just exited the lift. Only when he unclenched his fist did the lights stop flickering. He does not really like using some of his powers as it drains him easily especially in the absence of fresh blood but as of late — he had found himself uncontrollably tapping onto them.

No cross that, he thought, you made him resort to them.

“Told you we would find our boy in the library,” the blonde boy, with the golden-retriever energy, exclaimed as soon as he reached the top of the mezzanine floor, skipping happily towards the lad who was all hunched up over his desk at the corner. Sunghoon did not even bother looking up, knowing exactly who the owner of the voice was — it was Jake.

“Hi buddy,” Jake grasped him by both shoulders as if trying to scare him, not that Sunghoon budged. The lanky guy, with sharp eagle-like eyes, Jay, joined not long after, scoffing at the sight of all the works messily strewn across Sunghoon’s desk as he picked up one of the books on his table, “Really? You’re putting a massive blow on our image Sunghoon. I mean even the official nerds aren’t in the library at this hour.”

“Can’t you read the sign? This is the quiet zone,” Sunghoon emphasized, snatching the book that Jay was holding up, “Oh wait, I’m talking to the guy who kept on flunking his classes from one century to the next.” 

“Hey, I still score higher than you for Politics and History okay,” Jay retorted, “Also, I mean — come on, you’ve excelled in almost every classes in every century — how many more do you want? Are you not bored yet chasing such trivial pursuits like these mere mortals.”

“I don’t think the grades are his endgame,” Heeseung quipped, joining the boys last, jutting his chin towards the side of the ground floor where you were seating at, totally oblivious of the ruckus over the mezzanine floor.

Recognising the girl to be the one always in a heated debate in lectures with Sunghoon, Jay rolled his eyes, “Seriously dude? If you have a bone to pick with her just finish her out quick. You act as if you cannot just easily take her out. Why are you playing some cat and mouse game with her? Are you that bored now that your trophy girlfriend isn’t around?”

“Maybe our little prince here is loving the chase,” Jake touted, grinning mischievously, “We are predators after all — the chasing part of which can get even the sanest of us high. That is, if hunger does not overtake it.”

“Look, I don’t mind your little games,” Heeseung interjected, resting his hand on Sunghoon’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze which felt far from comforting but more like a warning, “but you should be careful. You have been unnecessarily reckless as of late. First, the cheer captain then the taekwando champion — two important people in campus, two ended up hospitalised. If people around here were any smarter, they could’ve sniff out some similarities between the two cases which could put us in danger. This is no time to be playing around when beyond campus, missing people cases are already on the rise.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sunghoon shrugged Heeseung’s hand off, looking up at him with an almost taunting stare as he sneered, “Didn’t you hear what they all say? The cheer captain fell off the pyramid whilst Jungwon passed out from severe anaemia.”

The grin on both Jay and Jake’s face immediately dropped with the former almost gasping out loud, “shit that was you? Wait — if you’d been that bold and reckless as of late, you should have no problem preying on her. Instead you’re resorting to some lame cat and mouse game with her.Geez, what is wrong with this lad.” 

Indeed, like a true predator, he could just make things easy for himself by preying on you at your most vulnerable, which is pretty much most of the time for you. After all, you frequent quieter hallways, spaces and streets; you stay until graveyard hour at the library; you go home at the dead of the night and you’re pretty much alone half of the time he saw you in campus. Basically he had plenty of opportunities to do so. But he never did. Instead, he just observe you from afar or tail you — as if you’re a specimen, not a meal.

“Did she hit a nerve with you?” Heeseung raised his eyebrows, noticing the slight twitch in Sunghoon’s eyebrows as soon as he said it which confirmed his allegations. You can always leave it up to Heeseung to hit the nail right on the head. Sunghoon suddenly remembered the look of disgust you flashed him the night of the party. The contempt he felt never went away, it builds up the more he sees you. Most of the time, you act like he doesn’t exist — not even paying him the slightest attention unless forcefully elicited through some prolonged eye-contact or public debates. But even during those times, you either immediately stare away as if he was not even worthy to be stared at. Lately, in fact, you even purposefully avoided him. If he was in your lane or in a room you were heading, you just turn around, as if he’s a plague. Without realising, his hand was already curling into a fist, a glint sparking in his eyes as it stayed lock on you over at the ground floor. It was all painfully noticeable to Heeseung who then cautioned him, “You better nip the obsession in the bud Sunghoon. Don’t drag it out or else I’d have to take matters into my own hands.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sunghoon murmured, the corner of his lips lifted, forming a wry smile, “I’ll let her stay on her high horse for a bit — let it get higher, even. That way, when I push her off it — it would be one. painful. plunge.”

Heeseung sighed, shaking his head dismissively, “You’re calm and disinterested most of the time. But when not, so vengeful and obsessive.” 

“Explains why no one dares to cross him,” Jake shrugged, “Anyways, we didn’t go all the way here to study or chit chat. We’re here to drag you to the party Sunghoon. So come on, pack up and-“

“Told you guys I wasn’t joining,” Sunghoon replied nonchalantly, brows furrowing when he spot your friend entering the study hall, skipping happily towards you.

Jay chuckled as he stood next to Sunghoon, as if rejoicing the fact that nothing can be done on Sunghoon’s part anymore, “Well, not much you can do tonight it seems — girl is occupied now. So, what do you say? Shall we head to the party? You’d be obsessing over the missed opportunity all night so better drink it all up tonight, no?”

Sunghoon glared at Jay before exhaling sharply, “Fine.”

Over at the side, by the bannister, Heeseung stayed silent as he watched Sunghoon, his eyes looking stern. Noticing his grave expressions, Jake approached the older guy, trying to lighten up the atmosphere for him, “Sunghoon has been so disinterested with life for quite a while — the change is kind of exciting to see no?” 

“I’d rather he turn her into the next cold case in town than let him play mind games with her,” Heeseung mumbled, face impassive, “He can grow too obsessive to the point of irrationality that it can put us all in trouble.”

“Oh lighten up hyung,” Jake nudged him, “He’ll probably get bored of her soon.”

Except, Sunghoon never did for it became a new habit from then on, to stay until the dead of the night at the library just so that he can be around you. He was not really sure why he would do such a thing for there never really had been any plan in mind. He just saw you walking to the library one day, followed you, saw you stayed and decided to stay as well. He kept himself occupied too while at it since you spent ingloriously long hours in the library and he cannot just sit around and watch you all night. Since he had always loved being alone, the dead silence of the library during graveyard hours provided him just the respite he needed from the all the ruckus he had to face from being the campus heartthrob. He is quite intelligent and cerebral too so doing work for real in the library did not felt like a chore — it was rather enjoyable to him. He was able to see how theories and schools of thoughts that rose to prominence during 'his time', now dismantled by another school of thought. So feeble, he thought, the ebb and flow of human life and thoughts.

Now and then however, whenever he glanced up from his work, he would find his eyes landing on you over at the ground floor. Like gravity always pulling things back to earth, his eyes just always find you. Sometimes he would feel compelled to just walk up to you, strike a conversation or just bother you but somehow whenever the desire to do so was the strongest, the pale guy that was always with you would appear. He noticed the guy would often come by around midnight, skipping happily across the carpeted floor, and not long after, you would pack up and leave the library with him. It was as if he came by just to fetch you — like a parent or a guard dog, he thought.

Tonight however, your little guard dog was nowhere in sight. As if the stars were aligned for Sunghoon too, you had somehow dozed off in your study carrel — giving him an easy excuse to come up to you in case he needed to justify himself. He carefully approached you as the clock chimed, noticing the way your shoulder rise and fall with every breathing, the look of ease that spread across your face, the way your hair softly fell over the side of your face and the fact that you were still holding onto your pen, the ink bleeding onto your notes as it stayed on spot for who knows how long.

As if there was a magnetic force in between, his hand had already reached out towards you, gently tucking strands of hair that had covered your face, behind your ear. The warmth of your skin electrifying against his freezing hands, it was almost comforting. Instead of stopping, his hand continued travelling downwards, from your cheeks, to the side of your jaw then to your exposed neck. Suddenly he can feel the shift within himself. With his senses heightening, he was now becoming hyperaware of your beating pulse, which he could feel right under his fingertips, and the blood coursing through your veins. He swallowed thickly, feeling his judgements starting to become clouded when suddenly your eyes fluttered open. Startled, you jerked backwards in your seat in surprise, smacking his hand away in the process, “The fuc—“ 

He stared at you, deadpanned, as if he had not just done anything remotely suspicious nor invasive, “Are you always this jumpy?"

“I- well what were you doing anyway?” you asked, flabbergasted, your heart still hammering against your chest. You realised that the place was empty save for both of you.

“I wanted to wake you up, it’s midnight,” he answered as a matter-of-factly.

“Oh,” you took a quick glance at your watch, suddenly feeling embarrassed that you were thinking so negatively of him, “yeah, you’re right. I must have dozed off. I should pack up. Sorry about that—”

“No… wait—” he held onto your wrist gently, stopping you, “Stay for a bit. I have something to ask.”

You looked around, wary of the security guard who should be doing his rounds by now. It was already half past two. By then the security guard would have lost his composure if he found out you guys were still in the library when you guys should have long packed up and leave as the library should have been closed 30 minutes ago, “I- uh, I guess we can do a quick one before the guard comes.”

“Oh don’t worry. He won’t,” Sunghoon muttered quietly. You gave him a quick side-eye as you sat back, wondering how can he be so sure but decided not to ask anyway. Truth is, he had made the security guard doze off earlier so that he can spend some time alone with you. But you did not need to know that, he thought, smirking to himself.

“So,” he began, placing his laptop on your desk as he lowered himself down your level, “You said, we could use these sets and these right? Perhaps we can add another? As a dummy variable? I’ve selected some years where like absolutely nothing out of norm happening. And then, I’m also thinking that we can trial 1980s data sets, it has similar noise to your 1950.”

You looked closely at the data sets he highlighted which indeed showed similar contexts, “That’s true. They were indeed times of distress which could serve our narrative well. Wow, I should’ve thought of that. But anyways, yeah sure we can add a dummy variable and trial that one period. They seem to be highly correlated which can help us support either arguments. I actually, saw some similar arguments from these authors —”

But Sunghoon was not listening at all. As you were busy raising some important points, his attention had long darted away from the project, to you. From the way you gesticulated to make your point; the way your eyes sparkled as you explained your points thoroughly; to your plush lips; then down to your exposed neck and collarbone — suddenly reminded of the warmth of your neck and pulse that he could feel right underneath his fingertips just moments ago. Without realizing, he found himself slowly leaning in, getting delirious from the thoughts which were further intoxicated by the captivating and alluring smell of your perfume — a delicate blend of green, citrusy, and woody notes. 

“You smell nice,” he murmured, his breath tingling against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

“Excus-“ you turned to face him, about to shoot him a glare, only to suddenly get caught off guard by the proximity between your faces. His stare was deep, almost sultry, as it bore onto yours, making you gulp nervously as you backed away slightly. The proximity and the uncalled-for comment was really triggering your flight response but as he had placed one hand on the edge of your table and the other on your seat’s headrest, you were effectively caged in.

He, on the other hand, was unflinching as usual and as if he could read your mind, you notice the slight twitch on the corner of his lips and eyebrows — looking as if he was satisfied seeing you flustered. Snapping out of it, you pushed his laptop and papers back towards him, “do you not have any concept of personal space? Move back. You’re hogging my share of oxygen.”

Grinning coyly, he straightened back up. He knows not to push buttons too far. Not this early at least, "Why? Did your heart lurch?”

“No, but my hands were just about to had you gotten any closer,” you deadpanned, rising up from your seat, realizing that he might have had underlying intentions —whatever it was, “Anyway, sure. Trial them. I’ll add on with the justification if the results are favourable…” you continued as you pack up, “We’re done right? I’m heading home.”

“I’ll walk you home.”

“There is absolutely no reason to. Dont you live like at the high street or something — that’s the opposite way,” you countered, throwing your backpack over your shoulders and making your way towards the door. 

“Which is why I have a car,” he emphasized, following closely behind you, “I can drive you. The bus doesn’t run anymore at this hour right?”

“Doesn’t really matter, my accommodation is still within walking distance,” you maintained, suddenly wishing that the guard would show up and interrupt you guys. Sunghoon was getting really pushy and considering all the weird moments you two shared, you were starting to get really uncomfortable.

“Haven’t you heard of the rising cases of people going missing? it’s not safe to be out and about alone.”

“I’d rather be caught dead than be caught riding your Benz,” you scoffed as you reached the lobby, “You should go home too. Your pretty face is a better catch than me in its entirety.”

He smirked as he outpaced you, grabbing the door handle before you could, “well, not all predators target the same prey.” 

You looked up at him quizzically. Leaning down, he whispered in your ear, “be careful then", before pushing the door open for you, gesticulating that you are free to pass through. You wanted to reply him, to have the last word but decided against it. So far, any small talks with him will just snowball rapidly into something else, just like a trap, so without wasting any more time, you brushed past him, putting your headphones over your ears as you walked down the tarmac path towards the main road. As you walked though, you could not help shake the feeling that there was a slight edge in his voice when he cautioned you earlier.

The end of another week rolled by. End of weeks are kind of special for you and Sunoo because if you guys plan to walk home together, you guys would make sure to take a slight detour to the 24-hour bubble tea shop in the city centre as a little reward to yourselves for working hard in campus all week. That was indeed the plan for tonight too but you have just received a text from Sunoo earlier to not wait up. He was told that his dance club was suddenly invited to perform at a big event next week so he would have to practice until much later from tonight onwards. Thus with no one to remind you of the time, you got so engrossed in your work at the library. Not to mention, the guard, yet again, was nowhere in sight so you overstayed your time.  

“Where’s your little guard dog?” 

You jumped in your seat, startled, “of course, it’s you,” you huffed, hands flying over to you chest in an effort to calm down your heart that had almost leapt out of your body. It was Park Sunghoon, again.

“For someone who is kind of fearless, you really are jumpy,” he mocked.

“Excuse me, you’re the one who snuck up on me,” you retorted, “Also what guard dog?”

“You know, the pale dude who is always with you,” he replied as he casually pulled one of the empty chairs and dragging it to your side, “the one who looks like a fox."

“His name is Sunoo and no he is not my guard dog,” you corrected.

“I hope not your boyfriend either?” he quipped, eyebrows raised, lips curled into his usual playful smirk.

“What is it to you anyway?” You shot back, eyeing him suspiciously as he took a seat beside you, placing his bag between your seat and his, “Also, what do you want from me this time?”

“Geez, you’re always so friendly,” he remarked sarcastically. 

“And you’re always up in my business,” you replied sardonically, plastering a fake smile, “no seriously though. If you need anything from me, just shoot now. Before the guard comes, we are like overstaying our time here again. If he sees us, he’d go ballistic.”

“Don’t worry about that,” he grinned coyly, “I know for sure he won’t.”

Your brows furrow over his overconfidence again but decided not to think much of it, again. It has been 3 weeks since you guys started working together and naturally, since you two had to meet once or twice a week over it, the animosity between you two, or rather from your side, have slightly dissipated. All the contemptuous debates and snide remarks have been replaced with productive discussions and playful banters. That being said, you still maintain an arm’s length with him. Nothing good comes from getting close to a heartthrob, you reasoned.

“Did you see my email?” he asked.

“Oh sorry, I haven’t. Wait a sec,” you turned to your laptop, downloading the attachment, “Oh, so you’ve done preparing your parts already?” you mumbled, scrolling through his part of the slides that he just proposed to add a week ago, “this is—”

“Good?” he interjected, grinning smugly.

“Yeah,” you nodded, giving him a quick smile — probably a first, he thought. 

“Well, you look very surprised I’m almost offended,” he propped his elbow against the table, his chin resting on his palm, “You must’ve thought there is nothing going on for me except for my looks huh?”

“And your wealth too, I might add,” you replied nonchalantly, typing away, “To be honest. I didn’t think you were going to do your part. In fact, I was so prepared to pull the all-nighters to pull off your parts in case you bail.”

“Wow,” he bemused, “You sure are colder and more tactless than you look. Thought we just needed some time but it’s still very business-like between us.”

“Well, I mean the only thing that holds us together is this project so -“

“So, let’s change that then,” he cut you off as he rose up, suddenly packing up your books and notes that were strewn across your table.

“Uh, what are you doing?” you looked up at him quizzically as he picked up your backpack from the ground and put the books and papers into your backpack as if it was his. 

“I want us to be closer,” he winked before slinging your backpack over his shoulder while carrying his own backpack over the other shoulder.

“It’s 3 AM,” you protested, trailing behind him as he marched for the door.

“So? You usually leave late from the library anyway.”

“Yeah, studying,” you emphasized, trying to snatch your backpack away from him but he was too quick in dodging you. With a triumphant smile, he walked in a backwards manner, “come on, just some late-night snacks and some chit-chat that’s not macroeconomics. Don’t you think I deserve just that much considering how good of a project partner I’ve been? Even Jungwon can’t do half as good of a job.”

“I’d rather you be one of those freeloading group mate then,” you folded your arms, annoyed.

“Why do you hate me so much?” he finally asked, head cocking to the side.

“I don’t.”

“So you like me?”

“I also don’t.”

“Ouch.”

“Just give me my bag back,” you extended your hand, beckoning him to return your backpack.

He stared at your extended hand for a few seconds before grasping it instead, “Not a chance.”

“Hey-“ you shrieked as he pulled you along and exited the library. You sighed, relenting, letting him drag you towards the corner of the street just outside campus where a few food stalls were still opened, “What would you like?”

“Wait...” you stared at him in a mixture of disbelief and amusement, “The Park Sunghoon eats at stalls?”

“What?" he teased, "You weren’t expecting a Michelin-starred restaurant were you?”

“Of course not. I’m not you,” you scoffed, shaking his grasp off of your hand, “I’m just surprised you’re not as out of touch as I thought you were.”

“Trust me, I’m full of surprises,” he winked.

You rolled your eyes though you immediately changed your expressions as you turned towards the seller, beaming, “Can I get 2 Bungeoppangs please? Thank you.”

“Make that 4,” he added, offering the lady a wad of bills, beating you to it, “Oh it’s on me — I mean I’m the one who dragged you so late at night.”

Not a fan of being indebted, especially not to this Golden spoon , you quickly slip your money into his pocket, “Oh please, I’d never let you have that pleasure.”

“That’s fine,” he clicked his tongue, “I’ll just keep on dragging you for midnight snacks until you let me treat you. Here you go,” he grinned as he handed you the paper bag containing your orders. You scoffed realizing that he had just trapped you.

“So,” he started, beckoning you to join him to sit at the stairwell nearby which was looking out towards the distant cityscape — its lights twinkling like stars, “since you’re so hell-bent in showing that you don't like me, would you mind enlightening me on what you honestly thought of me?”

You stared at him in confusion, wondering what he was planning up his sleeves this time. Wiggling his eyebrows, he reassured, “oh trust me, you can’t hurt me so shoot away.”

“Fine,” you shrugged, “I thought you were a good-for-nothing airhead who floats through life all thanks to winning the genetic lottery and daddy's money."

He snorted before pressing his tongue against the inside of one cheek, staring at you with a look that seemed either he was proud of you or he just didn’t believe how vile your words could be, “Wow, and I thought I was tactless. You’re worse.”

Truth to be told, that initial negative impression of Sunghoon that you had, have already begun eroding the more you interacted with him. Instead of the arrogant, good-for-nothing airhead that you pictured him to be, Sunghoon turned out to be a smart, diligent and an agreeable lad, making you feel like a total prick for thinking otherwise. Not that you want to admit that to him though. His self-ego was already so inflated as it is.  

“Don’t worry, this level of unbridled tactlessness is only reserved for those deserving of it — like you,” you plastered a smile before taking a bite of your food, surprised by how good it was.

“Well, it must have have hurt your pride to know that I am not just wealthy and handsome but also,” he paused for extra emphasis, “brainy and competent in, I dare say, everything.”

“You’re shameless,” you scoffed but the corner of your lips were uncontrollably lifting into an amused grin.

“Hey, being humble isn’t my thing,” he clicked his tongue.

“Yeah I mean, being humble isn’t on-brand for you. I guess some people are just born lucky to have the whole package.” 

Suddenly, with a slight glint in his eyes, he uttered in a low voice, “if it’s of any consolation, I do have a major weakness. Would you like to know it?”

You held his gaze, unsure of whether he was serious, he was flirting or he was messing around, “I am pretty sure there is a catch to that.”

“Of course, you’re a good economist so you’d know that there is no such thing as free lunch,” he grinned smugly, leaning in closer, his lips just inches away from your ear, “it would cost you your life.”

“Wouldn’t even be interested in it even if it is free,” you whispered back.

With a grin that was unreadable, he leaned back, propping his back with his hands on the ground behind him, "you're like the personafication of the Great Wall or something, so hard to break.”

You just gave him a slight smile before continuing to stare at the view ahead, not minding his words. Sunghoon, on the other hand, had his eyes on you. Thinking quite literally of how hard it was to break the invisible barrier between you two. Sure, you were not as prickly as you initially were but it has been almost a month and the pace at which it was all developing was too slow for him. Just then his phone buzzed as a text had just come in.

Sir. It has been done. I’ve coaxed the tourism committee to give the spot to your university's dance society. Had to double the amount offered though. -Mr. Han.

Sunghoon was going to ignore the text but then another thought dawn on him, I should kick everything up a notch, he thought, as he fired a quick reply to Mr. Han:

That's fine. Need you to do something else asap. Will call you soon.

Patience was, afterall, never part of his virtue.

“I’m sorry,” Sunoo cried out for the umpteenth time over the phone, “I know I promised that tonight would be my treat but the head of the dance team isn’t satisfied with our performance so he’s making us practice until dawn. AGAIN.”

“Dude, it’s fine,” you reassured, making your way down the sidewalk, past the bus stop, “this could be your time to shine. There might be entertainment companies there so you might get scouted. All the more reason to practice hard until dawn.”

“That would have made all the all-nighters worth it,” he sighed, “Anyways, alright I won’t hold you any longer or else you’ll be going home even later. Point is, get a taxi okay? Don’t walk all the way back. You heard the news lately.”

“You are worrying about the wrong person,” you sung, “alright then, I’m going to cross the street now. See you in class tomorrow!”

Oddly enough while it was only 12 AM, the streets were already so eerily empty tonight, the silence of which was deafening. In fact, even after having walked for almost 10 minutes by the main road, you have yet to pass by a single vehicle nor person and it was beginning to fill you with trepidation. Perhaps the rising number of missing cases were really starting to instil fear and paranoia amongst the townsfolk, you thought. 

While that has never deterred you from going home late or being alone since you were never the type to get easily scared, something felt awfully off tonight. Besides your neighbourhood resembling more and more like a ghost town the farther you walk, it was just too still, too quiet. When you reached the end of the alleyway that you usually use as a shortcut, you threw one last glance behind you, trying to make sure that no one had been following you. Thankfully, indeed no one had — filling you in with relief but making you feel stupid for being too paranoid. When you turn back around however, you almost bumped into a tall figure, all clad in black. “It’s awfully late to be walking all alone don’t you think?” he asked mockingly in a gritty voice.

Before you could even react however, his hand was already on your arm, his sharp nails digging into your skin. The next thing you knew he had dragged and yanked you to the side, into another darker alleyway where the dumpsters were. Pain shot all over you as you got hurled onto the hard gravelled path. Looming before you was the man, laughing deviously as he lowered himself. He was probably around 25, pale and gangly, with a rather sinister wide smile plastered over his face and an inhumane glint in his eyes like that of a cat's tapetum lucidum, glowing especially in the dark.

With adrenaline and fear now on overdrive, you sprang to your feet, ramming him out of the way with as much strength as you could muster, sending him tumbling backwards with a loud groan. Without sparing another second, you sprinted off, taking every turns you can take in the hopes that the non-linear path you had taken would have thrown him off your trails. For a moment it seemed to have worked for you did not see a hint of him when you looked back nor do you hear other footsteps beside yours.

You were in fact only a few meters away from the nearest exit when suddenly you felt someone grabbing you by the shoulder, pulling you with so much force to the side, before throwing you harshly against the cement wall. It was the maniac from earlier, still grinning like a Cheshire cat as if his lips had been permanently sewn to stretch that wide. With both hands on your collar, pressing hard against your neck, you can feel the air being squeezed out of your lungs as he was choking you, "I could've made it so painless but well - you decided to play around..."

You wanted to scream but with his hands pressed up on your throat, nothing came out. You thrashed wildly, hitting him wherever your hands could reach though nothing seemed to have worked. Gasping for air, you were so sure that you were going to die in a matter of seconds. Just then you saw another dark figure looming behind the maniac with his hand raised upwards, holdimg what seemed like a bat or a plank. Within seconds the bat or plank hit the maniac squarely on his back causing him to double down in pain. With his grip loosened, you fell harshly to the ground, the pain shooting everywhere but at least you were finally able to catch your breath. Though still light-headed from the lack of oxygen and still coughing and wheezing from being choked earlier, you spared no seconds to drag yourself away from the maniac.

You turned your attention to the other man, who was standing next to the maniac with the bat or plank still swinging in his hand as if he was deliberating on whether to deliver another blow to the maniac. But then instead, he turned towards you. While indeed he had saved you, your flight and fight response was still on overdrive and you backed away instinctively as he trudged up towards you.

"y/n, it's me."

You stopped retreating, recognizing the voice and the silhouette as he came closer.

"Sunghoon...?" you called out though still uncertain. Only when he lowered himself down to you level, his face catching the lighting from the other side, did you exhale a huge sigh of relief for indeed it was Sunghoon. Never had you ever been so relieved to see someone. "Sunghoon, how did-" you croaked but stopped as you noticed the maniac earlier had already gotten up and had started to sprint away. "the guy- the guy-" you stammered, voice hoarse.

Sunghoon cussed as he watched the man slowly disappear into the dark, "Just let him y/n. I can’t leave you alone here.”

“But—“ you stammered, as he helped you get up to your feet, “what if that man is behind all the disappearances? He might just move on to some other victim. We need to-”

“y/n,” he reassured, gently rubbing your shoulders as if comforting you, “Calm down okay? I hit him pretty hard on his back, I doubt he would continue tonight. I’ll also make sure to go straight to the police later alright? Come on.”

He draped your arm over the back of his neck while placing the other hand behind your back, trying to hold you steadily as you walked. While you tried to walk as normally as possible, the pain over your knee and hips grew with every step that you cannot help but wince.

"You're hurt," Sunghoon murmured, "Its' better if I carry you-"

“No,” you protested, “it’s okay, I can walk.”

“Your knee will bleed more with all the limping and hobbling,” he replied as a matter-of-factly. You looked down at your knee, only then realising that blood has streamed down your calves, staining your white socks red, “I’d piggyback you but you’d have to bend your knees and it would just hurt more so I’ll just carry you okay? Bear with me.” You suddenly feel his other hand behind your knees, the other wrapping itself over your back, before he pick you up in one effortless and swift swoop. It was embarrassing, you thought, but there was not much you can do.

Within a minute, you two finally got out of the dark alleyway as it opened up into a brightly-lit street, the corner where the 24-hour convenience store was. The harsh white fluourescent lights, which you have always hated, suddenly becoming a source of comfort and safety. He gently set you down on the bench just outside of the store, “I’ll go and buy you something to treat your wounds with alright? I’ll be quick, don’t worry. I can assure you, he won’t come back.”

You nodded weakly. Truth to be told, you didn’t want to be left alone. You were anxious that the man would just pop out and drag you again like he just did. Not that you said anything though. True to his words, Sunghoon appeared back not long after, running towards you with a plastic bag full of first aid kit items and some drinks, one of which he had taken out and opened up in advance for you, “Drink up first.”

You muttered a thanks, dawning it — not realising just how parched you were.

“Want to tell me what happened?” he asked as he watched you rummage to the plastic bag for the appropriate medication to apply.

“Had the misfortune to run into a crazed dude, that’s all,” you mumbled, taking out a bottle of alcohol disinfectant and some cotton swabs, then trying to open the seal of the former, “Thank you for earlier. Really thought I’d die.”

“Let me,” he offered, taking the bottle and swabs away from your hands before kneeling in front of you. You protested, telling him that you can do it yourself. He gave you a small smile, “your shaky hands indicate otherwise.”

You furrowed your brows, “no they’re not, lo-“ you grumbled bringing your hands up to show him. Unfortunately for you, Sunghoon was right, they were. Not to mention, you had scraped your palm pretty badly from the fall as well.

“As much as you try to put up an unfazed front, the body keeps score,” he muttered calmly as he gently apply the disinfectant on the cuts over your legs, “Don’t worry though. He won't reappear. Not when you’re with me out here.”

You winced as he moved on to apply the disinfectant on the big scrape over your knee, “Hold on yea? You took a really nasty fall with this one.”

As Sunghoon continued to patiently treat your wounds, you couldn't help but observe his every move and his every features — the only time you had ever actually properly looked at him. You realized then how large his hands were, how slender his fingers were and how meticulous and gentle every move and touch was as if you're glass and he was afraid to break you. Every now and then he would look up, meeting your gaze, giving you a quick reassuring smile that contrasts his usual smug grin.

Suddenly, you felt guilt creeping up. This was the guy whom you thought was an asshat. The guy that you, despite all that he had shown to prove otherwise, still had zero faith in. The guy that you refuse to give any time of the day except when necessary. Yet there he was, having saved you from death and as if that wasn't enough, was currently kneeling on the dirty pavement in his expensive get-up, just to tend to your cuts. It occured to you then that perhaps you should swallow your pride and accept the fact that you were the one who had made unfair judgements about Sunghoon. That your gut instincts were wrong. That he was indeed a good person, happen to be born with a golden spoon in his mouth.

Perhaps, you thought, you should also stop lying to yourself and admit that you have actually begun to not just not mind his presence around you, but actually enjoy it. That you were incredibly thankful and grateful that he was there right where and when you needed someone the most. Yet, steeped in pride and naturally unable to express your innermost emotions, all you could mutter was, “Your hands are freezing.”

He chuckled as he gazed up while holding your hand to apply a bandaid over the scrapes on your palm. With a gentle smile, one that is wide enough for you to notice that he had a dimple on his right cheek, he muttered, "well, yours aren't warm either."

For the first time ever, you did not find his smile to be annoying nor did you feel like smacking his hand away when it lingered too long on your skin.

Jay tiptoed across the wooden flooring that night, looking around to make sure no one caught him slipping in so late. After the number of missing persons cases, and of course after Sunghoon’s little stunts, Heeseung imposed some sort of hunting ban on them at least for a few weeks. Him sneaking around late would’ve earned him an earful from the elder considering how he is the most flamboyant and easy-to-tempt out of the bunch.

As he was about to take the stairs, he noticed the living room door, which was usually closed, ajar. The room was dark but through some momentary flashes of lightning outside, he noticed something suspicious on the floor in that room. He approached it slowly, noticing that they were empty blood bags which, as he followed, were leading up to Sunghoon, who was at the end of room, sitting on the ground with his upper body leaning against the couch. With his head thrown back against the seat cushion, Sunghoon looked almost lifeless had he not just opened his eyes to mere slits at the sound of Jay’s footsteps.

“DUDE! WHAT THE HELL!!!” Jay exclaimed, aggressively hitting the light switch in the room to turn it on, causing Sunghoon to groan over the sudden brightness and throw his arm over his eyes.

“You eat human blood for breakfast, what are you so startled about?” Sunghoon grumbled lethargically.

“I thought you got killed or something! This place looks like a crime scene! You look like a crime scene,” Jay complained, staring at him incredulously as he looked at all the emptied blood bags strewn beside Sunghoon’s body, “Were you starved or something?! I mean, look at the amount o— wait, did you take some of my supplies too?!”

Sunghoon scoffed, “I’ll repay you twice as much, don’t worry.”

“Forget about that,” Jay plopped himself on the couch, arms crossed, “I just hope that you have a good reason behind all of these uncivilised mess you’re creating.”

“Uncivilised?” Sunghoon chuckled drily, letting his arm fall to his side, eyes blankly staring on the ceiling, “Would have been even more uncivilised if I allow myself to lose it earlier.”

Jay rolled his eyes, “Hey, stop speaking in prose.”

Sunghoon sighed, “I almost lost it earlier. But I didn’t. And now, I’m paying the hefty price of suppressing it.” He swallowed thickly, the scent of your blood still so fresh in his mind. It was so enticing and intoxicating, he was starting to see red. Thank goodness, he had diligently been satiating himself daily with bagged blood. If not, he would have immediately lost it while tending to you. He planned on driving you back home but he knew he wouldn’t be able to withstand it any moment longer, especially not in such an enclosed space. So he sent his chauffeur to drive you home, telling you that he wanted to head to the police and quickly lodge the report before the maniac gets away far.

“Don’t tell me it’s that girl again?” Jay sighed — the silence of which just confirmed it.

“It’s weird though,” Sunghoon mumbled, “With all the blood I’ve drank tonight —“

“You still want hers?” Jay interjected, “Boy, I guess you’ve just found blood that is likely to be exactly your taste. You’re in trouble now — that hunger, if you don’t tend to, can fester in uglier ways. You got to-“

“Is it you again?” Heeseung suddenly barged into the room, his voice booming. Throwing a piece of shredded muddy black cloth on the ground, he glowered at Sunghoon, “the bloodless dead body in the river. Is it your doing?”

Sunghoon just sneered, knowing exactly who Heeseung was referring to, “that guy was the one causing ruckus as of late in this town, aren’t you glad that I caught him and put an end to him?”

“It could have been handled better by the elders. Who are you to take matters into your own hands instead?” Heeseung fumed, “Not that you did a good job anyway since you’ve drained him completely out of blood.”

“I know you didn’t kill him out of some noble reason Park Sunghoon,” Heeseung continued, lowering himself to Sunghoon’s level and grabbing a fistful of his collar, “You tempted him didn’t you? I heard it from Mr. Han. You told him about some girl being within the vicinity? All just so you can play hero for her so that you can tilt whatever game you’re playing with her in your favour, huh?”

“To be precise, I did not tell him that that girl was a meal,” Sunghoon emphasized, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, “I told him to scare her, that I’d offer him blood bags in exchange. He was more than eager to take it up for he was a starving mess. But well, apparently he was that parched, he went rogue and attacked her for real. If you consider that too, wouldn’t you say that I have saved another fellow human then?”

Heeseung scoffed, pulling the younger by the collar towards him as he glared menacingly at him, something unusual for the doe-eyed eldest to sport, “I told you stop playing games, didn’t I?”

“Guys, please,” Jay interjected, noticing the tension in the air, afraid of what were to come next, “We’re like fossil-aged, way past the time to be brawling. Heeseung, let him go -- for tonight at least. He's out of it right now.”

Heeseung pushed Jay’s hand away, harshly letting go of Sunghoon’s collar, “One more reckless move and I’ll take that as a your death wish Sunghoon.”

“I know I should be happy that you’re getting close to the guy of every girls’ and boys’ dreams,” Sunoo sighed, gesticulating wildly as you two walked towards the library the next evening, “but I have a bad feeling about Sunghoon.”

“He isn’t actually that bad,” you muttered quietly causing Sunoo to stare at you in aghast, “Okay okay, what happened to y/n? Did she get swapped with a double?”

“Stop overreacting,” you rolled your eyes, “It’s just because the deadline is approaching that we are spending more time together. Pretty sure we’ll be back to strangers after this.”

“I sure hope so,” Sunoo emphasized snidely, eyes narrowing into mere slits as if he was judging if there was any grain of truth to what you had just said. You shook your head dismissively as you two reached the entrance of the library door, “Alright, here’s my stop. Have a good practice tonight Sunoo.”

“Will do,” he pressed his lips together, forming a tight-lipped smile, before suddenly holding on to your arm stopping you halfway from passing through the library main entrance, “Wait… Just… Be careful okay? I know being alone is dangerous but… I feel like he’s not exactly the best company either.”

There was genuine concern in Sunoo’s eyes and voice which confused you. He was not always this protective nor paranoid especially when he has always been the one egging you to go on dates and talk to guys. You were going to say something when you felt someone standing behind you. “Oh sorry-“ you apologised as you turned your head, thinking you might have blocked someone’s way. But it was none other than Sunghoon who had just wedged himself between your back and the door as if holding it for you. He looked down at you, beaming, his dimples peeking through, “Hi — I was getting worried since you haven’t showed up.”

Noticing the unnecessary proximity, Sunoo protectively pulled you slightly to the side as he scoffed, “Don’t be dramatic. It’s only what? 10 minutes past 8 PM?”

You gave Sunoo a quick glance, signalling him to stop acting so sassy for no reason but he just ignored you, choosing to shoot daggers at Sunghoon instead.

“Well, she is never late so my worries are justified,” Sunghoon calmly remarked, “even more so when she’s just had a run-in with a maniac yesterday.”

Sunoo chewed the inside of his lower lip in guilt. While he did feel guilty about it all day, offering to treat you to the most expensive restaurants in town, and even planning to march to the police station to demand quick action, you were quick to calm him down by reassuring him that you were completely alright. That the maniac had not hurt you. That all the cuts and bruises are merely from, you lied, having clumsily fell to the ground while running away and not because you got thrown to the ground. But now, the guilt was creeping back up. Especially with the way Sunghoon said it. Had this been any normal day, Sunoo would have definitely retorted a smart comeback at Sunghoon but the guilt lodged his throat up so he just stared away, turning to you instead, plastering a fake smile, “Well, I’ll go now then. Don’t go home too late and call me when you get home later yeah?”

You nodded, smiling back as a reassurance, “same to you Sunoo. Text me once you’re home.”

Sunghoon’s smile faltered seeing the genuine care you two shared. He hated seeing the way you softly beam at Sunoo, the way you gently speak to him, the way you two touch one another so casually.

He wanted to be in Sunoo’s place.

You two ended up staying until midnight at the library, too engrossed in building perfect arguments for your respective parts — one another sometimes taking on a contrarian role to find each others’ loopholes. This goes on since that day, eventually becoming the norm as of late: you and him alone in the library together — three odd combinations that no one would believe unless they see it with their own eyes. You two no longer sat apart, you two were always next to each other in the library. All the heated debates from past weeks had now evolved into productive ones. All the glares and sneers turned to genuine awe, nods and even laughter. All the snide remarks turned to playful banters. It was weird, you thought, how this had all turn out and how quickly it progressed between you two. 

“You were right, there were inconsistencies, I’ll fix it then,” he nodded, scribbling some points on his printed draft. 

“Sorry,” you muttered sheepishly, worried if you’d been too overcritical.

“Don’t be. Better to be pointed out by one another than by the professor don’t you think?”

You find your lips curling into a smile almost automatically, impressed at just how cool-headed he was. Usually you would have to be extra careful of being critical of your partners’ work lest they become offended nor defensive but Park Sunghoon was different. He does his job and not only that, if he indeed saw how valid your criticisms were, he willingly accept it and gladly revise it. Feeling your smile stretching wider than you would have liked, you turned away, your eyes landing on the big clock near the door, “Oh shit, it’s 4 AM.”

Sunghoon looked up nonchalantly, shrugging, “Well, the guard isn’t around to bark at us, might as well overstay.”

“Well, if he comes out, he’ll definitely do more than bark at us. The library should’ve been closed 2 hours ago!” You panicked, packing your things up. Sunghoon extended his hand over to yours, stopping you, “trust me. He won’t be around. For a little while at least.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “Did you make a deal with him or something? Why are you always so confident about this?”

He grinned coyly, “Not exactly a deal but I am definitely sure that he won’t be coming around.”

You shook your head dismissively, slipping your hand off his grasp, “Whatever it is. It is late and I should head back soon.”

The smile on Sunghoon faltered, visibly disappointed but he followed suit anyway, packing up. As you two walked towards the exit, the guard was indeed nowhere to be found but it was something to be grateful for anyway especially when you have overstayed your time so you didn’t think much about it. 

“What are you doing?” you asked as you two were outside, noticing that Sunghoon was still walking beside you towards the direction of the road leading up to your area, instead of the other way where his car was usually parked. 

He stared back nonchalantly, shoving his hands into his pockets, “walking you home duh.”

“Um don’t,” you stopped, “our places are like the opposite way.”

“As if I’d let you walk home alone after what happened the other day,” he scoffed, shaking his head.

“So you’d rather walk me back?” you raised your brows quizzically, “it’s going to be a 45 minute return journey for you to go back here.”

“I can take the taxi afterwards, or we can take the taxi now,” he shrugged, “Well, it will all be easy if you just swallow your pride and let me drive you back home but you were dead set on not wanting to ride in my car.”

You scoffed. Sometimes, talking with Sunghoon really felt like engaging in mind games — like he knows just how to frame the issue to make you feel bad or to make you pick the choice that would make him win. “Fine, I’ll save you the troubles then,” you heaved a huge exasperated sigh, “Just this once though.”

Sunghoon smirked, nodding and mouthing a ‘sure’, before he led you towards his G-Wagon.

“I can’t believe I have become another statistic,” you muttered to yourself as you entered his car.

“Of?”

“Of the girls that rides in Sunghoon’s car,” you grumbled, slightly struggling with the seatbelt when suddenly you saw his hand reaching over. You turned, about to protest, but was quickly shut up by how close his face was to yours with his body just mere inches away from yours. He pulled the seatbelt over you and as the seatbelt clicked, his eyes flitted away from the seatbelt to your eyes, darting momentarily to your lips before reverting, causing your heart to skip a beat, “You’re the first actually.”

Your eyebrows twitched in disbelief as he backed away, grinning smugly as if he knew the effect the move had on you. You cleared your throat, trying to sound unfazed, “with the amount of girls you’ve dated — you should’ve chose a better lie to tell me.”

“Believe it or not,” he shrugged while firing off the engine, “people usually want me more than I want them so I'd get driven around instead. That, or I'd get my chaffeur to drive me around using my family's usual chaffeured car."

“Still not having any faith in that,” you maintained, “but if it is true, then I don’t know if I should feel bad for ruining that clean streak or feel triumphant that I am the one ruining the clean streak.”

“It’s up to you,” he clicked his tongue, pressing on the gas pedal, “Let’s just say, if I wanted to. I could’ve called my chauffeur to drive us in the usual car or called up a private taxi.”

You stared at him, wondering what was he getting at. He gave you a quick glance as if trying to emphasise his point, “But I didn’t.”

It felt like he was trying to smooth talk his way to your head but you thought skeptically that he had no reason to so you decided to just ignore it, looking out of the window instead. While a few days have passed since that night, seeing the streets and alleyway where it happened always brought the terrifying memories back. You gulped, staring away immediately, squeezing your hands to calm yourself down. That apparently did not go unnoticed by Sunghoon, “You okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” you answered immediately, trying to think of other things than what happened the other night.

“I guess you were still affected by it?” he asked. Suddenly you feel his free hand enveloping yours while the other stayed on the steering wheel. His hand was cold but somehow it still gave some form of comfort, “regardless of how you try to mask it, your body keeps score y/n.”

You stared down at the way his big hand enveloped both of yours, slightly irked by the fact that you let him and also slightly irked by how comforting and calming it felt. Despite that though, unlike the usual times when you would have definitely moved your hand away, this time you didn’t. Even when his hand was freezing cold to the point that it was quickly seeping any little warmth your hands had.

You guys finally reached your place in about 10 minutes time. You muttered a quick thanks, suddenly remembering that you had wanted to give him something as a token of gratitude after incident the other night. You deliberated for a long time on what to get this cocky, rich kid, thinking that whatever he really wanted you probably couldn’t afford. Noticing how he always drank Americano in campus, you decided to get him a one-month worth of coffee voucher from the campus cafe.

“Seriously?” he looked up from the voucher to you, eyebrows raising quizzically.

“What? Not enough?” You answered blankly, slightly worried. 

“Not that,” he sighed, “I just… I don’t need material things like that.”

“Thought this would be the best functional gift that won’t cost me my liver,” you said jokingly, “I mean, you drink Americano all the time, right?”

Yeah, because it’s so dark-coloured it hides any traces of blood I usually sneakily put in, he thought to himself when you asked again, “Well, anyway, I still need to thank you though so tell me what you want Sunghoon? Anything within moral bounds and within my tax bracket, that is.”

With an eyebrow twitch and a playful smirk that, by now, you are able to interpret as him having a rather cheeky idea in mind, he said, “I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in a while. How’s that as a token of appreciation instead?”

You paused, blinking confusedly. He raised his brows, “you live alone, you should know how to cook right? Unless of course, you’ve been living off meal replacements or deliveries.”

“No of course I know how to cook. I’m not rich to be able to conveniently live off deliveries” you replied dismissively, “but, really? Home-cooked meals? That’s uh-“

“You said anything I want,” he cut you off, “that’s all I want. Simple isn’t it? I didn’t ask for no Michelin-starred dinners nor a Balenciaga.”

You sighed, relenting, “Okay okay fine. I can’t promise that it will taste as nice as restaurants though. When do you want it? I’ll send it over to your place or something.”

“You can just cook it for me live,” he deadpanned.

“So you want to see me cook it too? You’re so demanding,” you grumbled.

“Better to eat it fresh, no? Plus we get to bond more,” he quipped, “Well, if you’re uncomfortable of having me in your place then you can do it at mine?”

“Dude, both are just as questionable,” you objected.

“I can hire a kitchen space then if you like,” he offered.

“Damn, golden spoon kids are really of a different breed altogether,” you scoffed, “fine, just this once. I guess, I can let you come over.”

You grimaced just after saying that. You’re a pretty closed-off person, preferring to set boundaries on things including your personal space like your home so having to let someone breach that, especially that someone being Sunghoon was such a blow to you. But he did save you, so you definitely did owe him big time. 

“If you’re not too tired, can I ask for it now?” He smirked. 

You raised your brows, looking at your watch, “It’s almost 5 AM now.”

“Yeah, we both haven’t had dinner,” he nodded as a matter-of-factly, “also I heard your stomach rumbled a few times earlier.”

“Oh shut up,” you chuckled, ruminating for a bit, “I guess. I mean, it’s Sunday now — so I can just sleep in in the morning.”

Hence, that was why Sunghoon was at your place at the crack of dawn, looking around your humble accommodation with stars in his eyes. “I don’t know whether to be offended or not by just how much in awe you are of my place considering how you live in a mansion,” you shook your head.

“Your place is so warm and cosy — and I mean it in the best way,” he replied, looking at the books that filled your shelves up to the brim, “my place is just cold and empty. Even when it’s designed and filled with everything anyone can possibly want.”

“First world problems huh?” You remarked sarcastically at him as you opened your fridge which you had thankfully stocked up yesterday. 

“You’re very well-read aren’t you,” he asked, his fingers tracing the spine of the books he knew well for he, too, loved reading during his spare time. In fact, he was already born when some of the classics which you have in your shelf were first printed. 

You shrugged, “just felt stupid most of the time so I have to constantly read up on things. I enjoy them too so it’s a win-win.”

He scoffed incredulously, “you’re one of the smartest person I’ve personally known, you shouldn’t put yourself down like that.”

Noticing you staring at him, he just smiled, wiggling his brows, “what?”

“You really need to drop all the sweet talks,” you shook your head disapprovingly as you switched on the stove, “it may work on others but not on me okay? Not when it comes from you.”

“They’re not sweet talks,” he gave you a quick playful glance before sitting on the stool near you, observing your every move, “so nothing to drop right?”

You exhaled sharply, deciding to ignore him again. He smiled to himself, enjoying the sight. Everything just felt so warm and cozy — literally and symbolically. It was a feeling he hadn't felt for a long time since every thing always felt too distant, too cold and too empty for him — be it places or people.

Obviously, being a vampire, food offers no satisfaction nor satiation at all so he never liked doing it. But he thought it was the perfect way for him to linger around you a little longer than usual, a perfect way to get a little deeper into your life which to him was still shrouded in so much mystery. Usually he would have to spike his food with blood just to get the eating part done and over with but with you, over stories, jokes, laughter and banters, he gobbled it up without, not even realizing that so much time had passed and that the sun have already risen.

“Let me,” Sunghoon muttered when you gathered the plates by the sink, about to wash it once you guys finished your meal. You shook your head, “no don’t worry about it.”

You then felt his body against your back, his hand reaching over to grab the dishes you were rinsing in your hand, his head leaning low towards your level. Suddenly becoming hyperaware of the way his chest was pressing against your back, you were forced to acquiesce, suddenly feeling shy, “Sure, just don’t break them.”

You scooted to the side, taking a nearby clean cloth to dry out the plates that he had just washed, “Wow, I’m surprised you know how to do the dishes.”

He chuckled drily, pressing on the dish soap dispenser, “it’s not rocket science. I know how to do the laundry too, would you like to see that?”

"No thanks," you shook your head dismissively, "Pretty sure other girls would die for a shot of that though."

“You should stop trying so hard you know,” he mumbled suddenly.

“Huh? At what? The project? We’re this close to-”

“No,” he deadpanned, “At keeping me at arm’s length.”

You gave him a momentary glance which he took as an affirmation so he continued as he dried his hand on a napkin nearby, “Can’t you see that maybe our fates are meant to intertwine? If it’s already fated, you can’t outrun it no matter how fast you run. So might as well just go with it.”

You didn’t reply to that immediately as what he had just said was indeed something that floated in your mind once or twice over the past few weeks. No matter how hard you try, especially given how you have a very risk-averse and rather preventative attitude, he was just always around that your efforts just end up futile. Sometimes you wonder if perhaps you are indeed destined to get closer to him, to be friends instead of just course mates? But then again, regardless of that and your gradually improving relations and perception of Sunghoon, you can never fully shake the nagging feeling at the pit of your stomach. That everything is just too good to be true that it almost feels like a set up. Like you’re a rat in a maze. 

“I’m not keeping you at arm’s length,” you finally said, "I just take a long time to warm up."

"Ages," he emphasized, "Thank God, I have eternity."

You scoffed thinking that he was being sarcastic when he had actually meant it literally that he had eternity.

“So we’re friends?” he asked, leaning against the counter next to you. You shrugged, “I guess?”

“Then would you let me crash on your couch?”

“You are really shameless aren’t you?” You scoffed. He chuckled as he walked towards the living room and plopped himself on the couch, “just until the sun’s up high. I’m on a food coma right now and I’m a bit sleep-deprived lately, I don't think I can drive safely.”

You opened your mouth to protest, feeling slightly uncomfortable at the thought but considering the risk of him driving while having no sleep and having just eaten made you think twice. You reluctantly agreed, “I guess. No funny business okay?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded, before the usual smirk starts enveloping his lips, “For safety measures just lock your door alright?”

“You’re relentless,” you scoffed, throwing the cloth at him as you switched off the lights in the kitchen. “I’ll head to my room alright. Just lock the main door when you leave later. No need to inform me or anything.”

Already laying down on your tan couch, he flashed his thumbs up. He watched you walk past the hallway into your bedroom thinking just how far he had gotten just from saving you, from making you feel indebted. Should have done it way back, he thought to himself, would have saved some time.

Obviously, being a vampire, he would never get food-coma nor would he feel sleep-deprived so indeed they were all just excuses. Excuses to stay around longer. Unknowingly a smirk was enveloping his lips as he placed both hands under his head in a leisure manner. If only you knew just how much danger you were putting yourself in right now, he thought. The smirk faltered the longer he stared at your closed door, boring holes into it as he felt something within him brewing. Suddenly, the memory of just how intoxicatingly tempting your blood had smelled like resurfaced, causing his mouth to water. Such a perfect timing, he thought, you and him alone, in the dead of the dawn. No one to hear you scream, no one to help you. As such thoughts brew into the usual toxic mix, he can feel his throat drying up, suddenly becoming so parched, while his gums tingled — signs that the his fangs were unfolding into its full length. 

Shit, he thought, he was going to lose it soon. He immediately got off the couch, summoning every bit of strength and rationality he had to fight his carnal desires to not just break your door and attack you. In a frantic hurry, he left your apartment, got on his car and fired on the gas pedal as if the cops were after him. Jay must have been right, he thought, there must have been something about your blood that really piqued his senses since he has not even tasted it and yet this was how far and low it had driven him. He scoffed at himself, clutching the steering wheel.

That aside though, what is still mysterious to him was why he even stopped himself. Everything was falling into place so impeccably like he always wanted: he got your guards down and he got you to trust him — it would have been a perfect opportunity since it was at your own place too. Like inviting a lion to your own house, it would have been the ultimate “I told you so” to her. And yet, instead of doing just that, he ended up fighting every last bit of rationality and conscience back there, to not let his predatory self took over and lay a hand on you. 

Perhaps, he wanted to taunt you a little longer, he thought.

Or perhaps, he had grown to enjoy your company.

“Oh my God, that clicks!” Sunoo exclaimed, gasping as he shuffled through the wad of papers on his table, “look, it’s the same like what you saw! Tall guy, clad in all black, gangly, mid-20s, eerily wide smile, a disturbingly gritty voice, bony hands, and glowy-ish eyes!”

“I guess,” you shrugged, taking another bite of the matcha brownie that Sunoo just got you from the cafe beside the Press Society Club Room. You had some time to spare after your last seminar class so you decided to give your bestfriend a visit. That being said, instead of some meaningful catching-up, he was busy badgering you with questions about that night when you were attacked — bribing you with your favourite matcha brownie and coffee, “I mean — since you’ve gotten all these info from these witnesses, don’t you think the police are already on his tail investigating this or something?”

Ni-Ki, the other guy in the room who was busy toggling with his DSLR, scoffed, “If the police are even a fraction as useful, you wouldn’t end up running into that man at all because some of these witnesses have reported their encounters like as far as 2 months ago.”

Ni-Ki is Sunoo’s close friend, a polar opposite that he got quickly close to given their similar hobbies which made them members of the same clubs: Dance Society and Press Society. Ni-Ki is skinny and tall, with pouty lips, sharp eyes, and deep voice. He wasn’t the easiest to approach given how he has a rather intimidating resting face but whenever you bump into him, he had always been very cordial: greeting you first and engaging in conversations with you. You clicked your tongue, “shit, you’re right. So what are you guys planning then? I mean all these reports, the articles, the pictures — that’s not just prep for some 1/4 page feature.”

“Bingo,” Sunoo snapped his fingers, beaming proudly as he tapped onto the mountain of papers in front of him, “It will be the next hottest special article from us. After that scum tried to kill my best friend, best believe I won’t stay put.”

You gave Sunoo a small smile, one that shows how appreciative you were but also one that was slightly concerned by how ambitious it all was, “I mean not to doubt you two since you guys have co-authored some of the best articles ever written by the School’s paper but what could the school paper cover that hasn’t been in the official press? And like what could a school paper do with its limited exposure anyway? Wont you guys just be, I dont know, fear mongering?”

“I knew it, if anyone would raise these kind of questions, it would be my smart bestie,” Sunoo smirked, as if already expecting the question and already having the answers prepped, “First things first, the press have done a shoddy job at reporting these cases — like all the alarming facts were just glazed over, no connections were made, no alarms were sound — nothing. It was weird, it’s like they didn’t care or something.”

“If you ask me, I would think that both the police and the press were eating from the same hand this time,” Ni-Ki chimed in, eyebrows wiggling as he mouthed the word “corruption”.

“Anyways,” Sunoo continued, “as I was saying, basically we had to do a lot of digging because apparently not a lot of news covered the important details such as the autopsy report, God knows why. We found that some of these bodies are reported to be almost bloodless, with some odd cuts over their necks but even that wouldn’t have been enough to leak that much blood out of the human body. Even bizarrely, there are no traces of their blood around the area which then brings the assumption that this was a rather well-planned murder, not a spur of the moment one, because it is likely that the body has been taken elsewhere, drained of blood then dumped elsewhere. In other words, with more than one killings being like this, we are definitely not dealing with just any normal murderer."

“Sounds good,” you nodded in agreement, pondering over the papers sprawled over the counter, “You guys will also be putting a question mark on a story, it will definitely get people talking-“

Your phone suddenly rang. You stared at it quizzically, trying to figure out who the unregistered number belonged was but decided to just take it, “Hello? Who is this?”

“Not sure if I should feel offended that you don’t recognise my voice or that you’re not here right now when we’re supposed to meet?”

It was indeed a very familiar voice. You pored your head over who that voice could belonged to and who could you be meeting with at almost 7.30PM. “Oh shoot, right Sunghoon sorry. I’ll be right there in 5-10 minutes.”

It would actually be the last night that you and Sunghoon would be working together since the deadline of your work will be by 9AM tomorrow. All hunched up in the usual desk by the large windows of the East Wing in the library, you felt a hint of pensiveness at the thought. Working with Sunghoon, have after all been such a breeze: he was smart, accommodating and cooperative — everything you could ever want from a project partner. Not to mention, as much as you didn’t want to admit, what made your time with him a little bit enjoyable and memorable than you expected was the fact that he turned out to be a decent person. Full of wit, charm, playfulness and worldliness — which you never expect someone with a pretty and wealth privilege like his would ever possess.

Deeply concentrating in finalising your joint-work, you didn’t even realise that midnight had rolled in until your concentrations were abruptly halted by the guard roughly knocking both of your tables. You jumped in your seat, realizing that this had been the first time you had seen him in quite a while, “Sorry guys, didn’t you see the notice outside? We’re closing at 12.30 AM tonight due to some maintenance work. Go pack up now.”

You heaved an exasperated sigh as you reluctantly closed your laptop shut, “we were so close though.”

“We can continue some place else,” Sunghoon answered calmly as he packed his things up.

“You’re right,” you agreed as you slung your backpack over your shoulder and walked next to him down the aisle, “Do you know any cafe that closes late nearby?”

“Bars do,” he grinned as he propped the door open, beckoning you to pass, “I wasn’t thinking of cafes by the way.” 

Suddenly he grabbed the backpack that was loosely slung over your shoulder, slinging it over his instead, “I was thinking of my place.”

You paused, blinking quizzically at him, trying to process if you had heard wrongly.

“You didn’t hear wrongly,” he uttered as if he could read your mind, “Why? Are you scared?”

“I’d rather go to the bar.”

He snickered, “yeah right. Come on, my place is only 5 minutes away and our deadline is 9 AM tomorrow.”

“What about your housemates?”

“Not to brag,” he smirked, “but I was talking about my other house, my own personal apartment where I usually stay at if I need some time alone.”

You pondered as you trailed slowly behind him. Indeed, he has by then proven numerous times just how much of a decent person he was which meant that being alone with him in his place should not be an issue. That being said, you still have this nagging feeling deep seated within you that still seemed to be warning you to not let your guard down — to stay away. But then you thought about how you guys were like only a quarter away from being done with the project and that you had spent countless times alone with him during which nothing happened so you just chalked up such feeling into irrational paranoia, yet again. 

“I guess,” you acquiesced, “Just until we finish our work.”

Sunghoon’s apartment differed vastly from the bachelor pad he shared with his little clique. Located at the top floor of the most expensive apartment complex in the area, his penthouse which was designed in an industrial architecture style, was spacious and had a dark colour scheme throughout — almost monochromatic, giving off a rather clean and sleek look but a bit too dark and cold even for someone like you who had always gravitated towards darker colours schemes. 

“Okay, I mean I know you’re rich but this is just on a whole new level. Now I’m even more offended at the way you stare around my place in awe last time. You must have felt like a tourist — exploring how the average Joe lives on a student budget,” you blabbered, swivelling around slowly to take a good look at his lofty penthouse. Its curtains automatically drew open as you approach the floor-to-ceiling windows of the open space, revealing the glorious view of the city and a nearby river at night, “If I were you, I’d rather live here than that rowdy bachelor pad of yours with your little clique.”

“I overthink a lot so I need their rowdiness in my life to drown it.”

You looked at him beside you, detecting a slight sad undertone, “You have everything anyone could possibly want and you’re still overthinking things?”

“Oh trust me, not everything,” he turned towards you with a small smile, “would trade all I have for that one thing to be honest.”

“Is this the same with your weakness?” You raised your eyebrows, “the one you told me would cost my life?”

“Yeah,” he nodded with a sly grin, “they’re kind of related. So? What do you say? Want to take up the offer?”

“No thanks,” you shook your head dismissively. Setting your backpack on the counter nearby, taking out your laptop and notes, “let’s get working, I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“Oh please, you can overstay all you want dear,” Sunghoon answered in a sing-song voice. You shot him a glare over the last word to which he just winked at. Sunghoon initially recommended that you two work in the study room or lounge room, where it would be more comfortable but you insisted to stay in the living room — actually feeling more comfortable in the open space area, closer to the main door, rather than anywhere deeper and isolated. You two immediately got immersed in your work, not realising that time flew by across all the debates, discussions, amendments, revisions and banters. Only after having amended and revised the paper almost a billionth time now did you guys finally run out of things to amend.

“Or maybe our brain is just too fried for this already,” you heaved a heavy sigh as your scrolled down the 15-page report, “Shall we?”

“After you, you’re the main Architect,” he gesticulated for you to press the submit button. You dismissed him, grabbing his hand, “Hey, I do love to play Sherlock but for this project, there ain’t no Watson. We are both  the main architect of it. We are both Sherlocks.” You assured, beaming as you placed his hand on the mouse and then yours on his, guiding the cursor to the ‘submit’ button through his hand and clicking it after you received his final nod.

“Okay…. Now I can just hibernate,” you heaved a huge sigh of relief as you leaned back against the couch with your head thrown back, eyes closed. He stared at you all slumped on the couch, finding himself smiling as if endeared. He plopped himself next to you, his body facing you while his head rest on his palm with his elbows propped against the head rest. Though his eyes immediately fixated itself on your exposed neck, it was also increasingly distracted by your face. At your lips to be precise, which were parted and looked plush, looking almost inviting. He swallowed thickly, feeling some sort of gravitational pull all of a sudden.

“Stop staring, I can feel you burning holes,” you grumbled lethargically. 

“You were, too,” he replied. You can hear his smirk from the tone of his voice. You opened your eyes, slightly startled as it immediately met his gaze. He was, as usual, unfazed, “At Jay’s party. You were gawking remember?”

“Okay first things first,” you straightened up and then turned to him, “I was not gawking nor snooping around. You were the one making out in a rather public space. You can’t blame me if I walk into you. I mean if you’re so shy about it, you should’ve made out in one of the rooms.”

“Did you like what you see?” He grinned slyly, “because you were staring for quite a long time.”

“I was not,” you retorted, “okay maybe I did stare for like just a second too long. But that wasn’t because of you guys making out — I was just thinking — “

“That Sunghoon bones the Cheer captain for grades?” he interjected so casually. 

“Exactly. You took the words straight out of my mouth,” you said dryly, “Are you a mind reader or something? How is it that you can always tell what I am going to say.”

He shrugged with a smug grin on his face, “I just have a long experience with a lot of people. That and an unhealthy liking for Psychology.”

“Ah, that explains your penchant for mind games.”

“Well, it takes two to tango,” he said, biting the smile that was blooming on his face, “you’re good at it too.”

You were going to reply him with something but suddenly you became hyperaware of the way he was staring into your eyes. While getting stared at by Sunghoon was nothing new to you, the way he just kept gazing into your eyes as if trying to probe the depth of your mind was starting to make you feel self-conscious. There was almost this dopey, dreamy and dazed look to it which Sunoo had always told you is a warning sign to look out for. It’s kind of the look of awe and if you let it linger for a second longer, that gaze would probably change into something else — one which just screams that they want to get in your pants, Sunoo explained once, earning him a loud smack on the back by yours truly. You gulped, eyes blinking nervously as you start to feel something shifting in the atmosphere. While you were sure that seducing you would be the last thing in that campus heartthrob’s mind, it did made you feel nervous so, while feigning nonchalance you rose up and start to pack, “well, since we’re done, I should get going.”

“You can just stay,” he prompted ever so casually — which should be unsurprising as he has probably said that to other girls like millions of times (or vice versa). Standing by the counter where your backpack was, you begun shoving your books and stationaries inside, mumbling “Don’t be silly. The sun will be up in about an hour and a half.”

“Exactly,” he emphasized. You feel him coming up behind you, his body just mere inches away from your back, making you slightly nervous, “stay until sunrise then. There are no buses at this hour and taxis would just rip you off.”

“In a place so luxurious like this, I’d sleep like a baby and end up missing my 2PM class later so it’s a hard pass,” you rambled, saying absolutely anything out of nervousness. You slung your backpack over your shoulders and turned around, ready to leave but he didn’t budge and when you were angling to walk past him, he extended his arm, resting his hand against the counter behind you, blocking you, “why the haste y/n? Anything wrong?”

You would have stuffed up another lie but you find yourself instantly silenced when you looked up at him, meeting his gaze that had by then changed into something more unnerving. Long gone were those soft gazes. Perhaps it was the fact that he towered over you and was looking down at you but his hooded gaze was so intense and almost domineering, slightly sultry too, that it felt almost invasive and unsettling.

Sunghoon however felt the opposite, if his expressions and body language hadn’t given that away already. While staring at you was nothing out of ordinary for him to do, perhaps the way your relationship had progressed made the feat all the more addictive — as if your eyes were hypnotic or something. As if it was an ocean and all he wanted was to swim in it. He didn’t even notice that a thunder had just struck outside for all he see was you.

“It’s the crack of dawn Sunghoon,” you tried to diffuse the situation, feeling the tension in the air getting heavier, “I don’t have the bandwidth for your Mind Games.”

“We can always cut the chase,” he drawled, gradually lowering his face down, inching closer to yours. You noticed his stare flitting from your eyes to your lips, then back again with his gaze multiplying in intensity each time. You suddenly feel his other free hand come up to your shoulders, grasping the strap of your bag.

“What are yo-“ you fumbled, about to shove his hand off but his other hand was quick enough to grab your hand away as the other pulled your bag strap down your arm, letting it drop to the floor. He then took a few steps closer towards you, forcing you to retreat back. “Sunghoon, stop it-“ you cautioned. There was no mistaking his intent now as he placed his hand on the counter behind you, resting on either side of your waist, completely trapping you.

“Your guard dog is always this close to you, why are you suddenly shy when it comes to me?” He egged.

It would be a lie to say you weren’t unnerved but you weren’t one to just easily show any sign of fear nor vulnerability so you curtly replied, "I thought you said you’re good in Psychology but you seem to not know the difference between shyness and disgust.” you replied curtly as your mind went on overdrive, piecing puzzles of your past, specifically all the moments with him that seemed too inorganic to be coincidence and too good to be true. From Jungwon getting hospitalised suddenly; him becoming your new project partner; the security guard being missing most of the time; the maniac; him saving you; and now, it all culminated, to this. You swallowed thickly, still not wanting to believe that he could be this devious and manipulative — that it’s all just you and your usual unreasonable cynicism.   

Sunghoon scoffed, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek as his lips slowly curl into a wry grin before it all faltered. With a twitch of an eyebrow, he inched his face closer to your level, cautioning you in a low voice, “you should be careful with your mouth — you think you can win a game with the person who created the playing field in the first place?”

With that, it all then fell into place. You weren’t too cynical nor paranoid. Your gut feelings had indeed been right all along — as if it was warning you of the malice he is capable of, of the malice he will do to you. But it was too late for you have willingly walked into the tiger’s dent. “you call that a game? It was just child’s play,” you spat, “All of your orchestrations, all the effort — they’re not working. Because if they did, I’d buckle right now for you — like all the other girls. But that isn’t the case is it? All I feel right now is an ever-greater contempt and disgust for you, in case you’re socially inept to have not picked that up from my facial expressions and body language.”

You feel a sense of triumph when you see his smug grin faltered within seconds, eyebrows twitching as if your words had seared exactly where his pride was. But such sense of triumph was short-lived. You can see now that that apparently was not the wisest move for his eyes darkened in a mixture of vehemence and lust — a concoction of thoughts and feelings rarely felt in tandem for him. He hated your guts but the intensity of the vehemence was somehow fuelling his existing attraction towards you — it was like a vicious self-reinforcing spiral. 

Now, Sunghoon wasn’t one to make rash moves. He was always so cautious. Every moves are often well-calculated and schemed. But at that time, it didn’t matter anymore. All he saw was red and all he wanted right now was to shut you up — in a way you loathe the most, of course. Wrapping his hand behind your neck, he crashed his lips onto yours, the warmth of which was gradually enveloping all his senses, pushing it into new highs, making him hungry for more. You froze, unable to immediately register the sudden unexpected move he had pulled. Only when his other hand slipped itself on the small of your back to pull you even closer, leaving minimal to no spaces in between, did you finally snap out of it and react. While you tried to push him off with as much strength as you could muster, he did not budge at all. He was after all bigger than you and stronger so any push or punch you threw were futile against him.

If anything, it seemed to embolden him even more with his kiss growing more intense and fierce. All the frustrations, contempt and attraction that was building up to this moment, was fuelling his hunger and desire even more that it was almost carnal as he pushed his body up against you, pressing you uncomfortably against the countertop. With flight and fight response now on overdrive, you balled your hands into fist, hitting him wherever your hand could land which forced him to loosen his restrains on you as he tried to take your hands away. This gave you the opportunity to peel yourself away from his grasp especially since he was getting too delirious.

“you fucking prick.” you spat, managing to free yourself and immediately rushing to the other side, all breathless. You harshly wiped your throbbing lips with the back of your hand, feeling disgusted and slightly dazed.

Sunghoon smirked at the sight. You looked as ruined as he wished you to be: lipstick smudged, hair slightly dishevelled, and your shirt was sliding off one shoulder as the top button came undone in your struggle earlier. “You see, I’m not a patient person,” he took a step towards you, “but I’m glad I’ve dragged this whole thing out. The look of betrayal and disgust on your face — it’s so…. gratifying to see.” He chuckled menacingly, suddenly reminded of the look of disgust that you flashed at him at the night of the party.

Your brows knit in alarm and disgust. Sensing another danger coming as you see the hunger in his eyes emblazoning, you made a dash towards the main door. 

“I’m not done with you!” you hear him scream across the hall as you grasp the large handle of the door, feeling hopeful that you could make it as the sound of his voice indicated that he was still in the living room but to your horror, just within a few seconds of opening the door, it shut back close with such a force. You didn’t know how he had got to the door so fast but you can feel him behind you, his large hand resting just above the handle, preventing you from reopening it. You feel your breath hitch as you feel his breath on your ear, “I said I’m not done with you."

“Let. Go. You. Fucking. Scum.” you seethed. You were going to elbow him right in the ribs, which could’ve bought you time to escape, but unfortunately this was Sunghoon you were dealing with. Not only did he manage to block your blow but as he grasped your arm, he harshly spun you around, slamming your back hard against the wooden door — his large hands pinning yours against it. 

“Playtime’s over dear,” he drawled menacingly, his gaze now steely and cold — sending shivers down your spine. He thought he smelled something and he was right: your blood. He scoffed as his eyes zeroed into your lips where blood had formed on the crack at the centre of your lower lip. What a fucking perfect timing, he thought to himself, as he felt the hunger within him deepening.

Suddenly you can see an inhumane glint in his eyes as he tilted his head. It then struck you that it was the same glint that you saw from the maniac who had attacked you just a week prior — the glint of which, now you belatedly realized and remembered you first saw from Sunghoon that night during Jay’s party though you had made yourself believe at that time that it was merely your eyes playing tricks on you.

“I actually wanted to be gentle with you, to drag it all even slowly. You’ve made this hunt so enjoyable, I thought you deserve that. You know as a gift,” he said in a sing-song manner before hissing in a low voice, “but you’re making it fucking hard.”

You swallowed thickly, realising that no amount of strength you had put was enough to even shift his grasp over you by a bit. I’m done for, you thought in horror. As if that was not horrifying enough, you noticed how Sunghoon’s canines, which were already so pronounced to begin with, seemed to have grown longer. While busy scrutinising his changing features however, Sunghoon had moved to recapture your lips into yet another needy kiss, but now sloppier — reflecting the hunger that had grown so entrenched and urgent within. You feel his tongue brushing over your bottom lip, making you wince, before sending you thrashing harder when you feel him softly nibbling and sucking on your bottom lip. You turned your head away trying to free yourself and catch your breath but to your horror, Sunghoon had begun to trail open-mouthed kisses down your cheek then down your neck. You feel his tongue brushing against a particular spot on your neck, sending shivers down your spine. His teeth then grazed your bare neck — the sharpness of which was alarming for a normal human teeth, “I’ll try to make it quick but let me tell you, it will only hurt more if you struggle,” he murmured and not even a second after, you feel a sudden prick of pain over the area. 

“What the fuck, Park s-“ you cussed, brows furrowed in a mixture of alarm and confusion, did he just bite me, you thought. You can feel something warm gliding down your neck. You didn't know what it was but suddenly you feel slightly light-headed. You wanted to yell and scream but your voice were all choked up, energy suddenly draining that you could not even push Sunghoon off even when he had let your arms go, his hands now grasping you by the back of your head and back while his head was buried even deeper into the crook of your neck, his body pushing you up against the door. Whatever was gliding down your neck had now begun dripping onto your right hand, as it was laying limp beside you. You summoned every last bit of strength to lift your hand to see what it was. To your horror, it was blood. But it was too late. Way too late. You had no strength left and your consciousness was hanging by a thread. Your visions were getting dimmer by the second and your senses were growing num. 

Suddenly it all seemed to click: the inhumane glint in his eyes; the otherworldly charm and ability to read mind; the Cheer Captain’s accident; Jungwon being hospitalised from sudden anaemia; him saving you from the maniac; his shrouded background — it all formed one big shocking picture that tied so well into the context of the rising cases of missing persons and bloodless murders beyond your town: vampires. Though it still sounded silly in your head, what is for certain is that Sunghoon happened to be one of them. But none of all that mattered because it was too late. You would probably die soon, you thought, and that meant the truth will die with you. 

Within the last moments of your consciousness, you realised that you had indeed been nothing but like a rat in a maze — stuck only to traverse paths he had designed for you. You weakly scoff at yourself. You should have trusted your gut feelings. The bad vibes you sensed — it wasn’t just paranoia nor prejudice, it was your inert self sensing danger. Just like how certain animals have overdeveloped their senses to better protect themselves from predators, your gut instincts was trying to do exactly that. But this time, you decided not to listen — the price of which you’re paying with your life.

A/N: YASSSS I’ve finally finished it phew. I hope you like this as much as I did. It took so long to make — sorry for that but I hope the wait is worth it. Please let me know how I’ve done with this one — so much effort has gone into this, I’m drained of any creative juices now. I’m sure you’ve seen millions of writers posting just how valuable comments are. Whether they're praising us or giving constructive feedbacks, they do so much for us. Basically just, feedbacks <3 while likes and reblogs are much appreciated too, it is the feedbacks that keeps us going — telling us that all the sleepless nights, hunched on the table were worth it. So with that, I shall bid you adieu. Hope you enjoyed it :3

 ▶︎ [update: Part 2 is up - click me !]

Masterlist 

[torpidgilliver]

reclaimers’ rights (or, the law of salvage)

first chapter of a murderbot fic i probably wont continue under the cut. written for whumptober (originally the idea came for day 20: prisoner exchange, but it sort of wound up not fitting that or anything. im calling it day 25: lost voice just so i can offload it)

It was a treasure buried in a trash heap. More scrap than salvage, but not completely FUBAR—well worth saving. The crew had brought it aboard, all that they could find of the original structure, and stored it with as much care as they took with all of their big finds.

"D'you think Scrappy'd mind if I gave the SecUnit one of its arms?" The question has to fight through an oversized bite of half-thawed soy dumpling to escape Ramirez's mouth. He swallows and adds, "Just as a loaner, obviously. Even Scrappy's shortest arm is going to unbalance it a bit, but it's not super helpful with just the one."

Hawthorne shrugs. "Scrappy doesn't much mind anything, but the SecUnit might."

On cue, the polite tone flows through the feed: Your contract prohibits modification or vandalism of your SecUnit. Violations will be punished by a fine of or equivalent to—

"We don't have a contract," Hawthrone interrupts mildly, not bothering to look up from their meal.

"And we don't have any fucking money, either." Maida punctuates her statement by letting her tray clatter onto the table, then thumping heavily into her seat. "Thanks to you, Myles."

Ramirez's thoughtful pout becomes a petulant one. "Hey, it's not like I dumped all our cash for no reason. Mooney needed new stabilizers! Or would you rather sleep strapped to your bunk, and take a shit into a—"

“Not at the table.” Hawthorne doesn’t have to raise their voice to command the attention of their crewmates. “It’s too early, and my caffeine hasn’t kicked in yet.”

The two have the good sense to look abashed, for nearly two full seconds. Then Ramirez spears another dumpling on his chopsticks, shovels it into his mouth, and barely chews before swallowing. "Anyway," he continues, "we got a good haul on 'B2. Once we offload it, we’ll be back in the red again.”

Maida snorts derisively. “That’s ‘in the black,’ dumbass.”

Hawthorne raises their cup of burnt coffee with a sigh. “I can’t believe your parents didn’t murder you both in childhood.”

“Not for lack of trying!” 

While the spirited breakfast conversation continues in the galley, elsewhere the mood is more mellow. In the spare bunkroom designated for overflow storage, Scrappy is singing. It wasn’t originally constructed with musicality in mind—or, at least, no significant portion of it was. It’s a chimeric assemblage of functional bits rescued from otherwise nonfunctional bots, and it’s not common practice to bestow personality upon product. Nevertheless, sometime between Maida installing the heatsink taken from the home maintenance drone and Ramirez attaching the fifth arm, Scrappy found a song in itself. The tune is sharp, as with no vocal speakers it makes due with the catalog of beeps, clicks, hums, and whistles that its parts can produce. It also hasn’t yet gotten the hang of the concept of varying verse. The result is seven distinct notes, composed into a sixteen measure-long chorus. Repetitive and a little grating for listeners with organic ears, but still undeniably cheerful. 

It sings as it works, its cluster of arms sorting salvaged junk neatly into crates. The concept of taking pride in a task is a bit too abstract for Scrappy to process, but it feels an analog of satisfaction as it seals up the final box. It announces task complete into the general feed, and is treated to an acknowledged:standby from Hawthorne. 

This is the point where Scrappy would ordinarily begin making rounds of the ship, picking up loose objects and sorting them into the appropriate receptacles, (Its crew disagrees with it sometimes on which receptacles are appropriate. Maida has tried to ban it from her bunkroom on multiple occasions, as it holds the unshakeable belief that the plush fauna-shaped object she carelessly leaves tangled in her sheets belongs in the galley storage unit.) but it has self-assigned a new task to its typical processes. 

Scrappy pings the second member of its cohort of two, and sends, query:status?

The 9.1 second-long delay on the response might concern a more complex bot, but Scrappy takes the replied status=optimal on its face. It has no reason not to; despite her best efforts, Maida hasn’t managed to teach it about the nuances of sarcasm. With the registration of task:verify status=complete, Scrappy exits the storeroom, folding in its arms and ducking its head to fit through the hatchway. 

“Besides the usual supplies and a new card for the synchronizer, is there anything else we need?” Hawthorne pushes their breakfast tray away to lean one elbow on the table. “And I do mean need, as in cannot leave port without. A download pass for whatever the newest survival game is doesn’t qualify.”

Ramirez half-rises from his seat to reach Hawthorne’s surrendered tray and starts transferring leftovers onto his own plate. “The SecUnit needs a new cell pack,” he announces. “The one it’s got is leaking, it can’t hold a charge for more than a few hours. Its cardiac pump isn’t looking so great either, but I’ll have to put together a new one from whatever I can find. And if we want it to be able to shoot stuff, I’m going to have to replace the hinges in its weapon release.”

“And if we ever want to sleep without having nightmares, it needs a mask.” Maida shudders. “It’d be creepy enough with a whole human face. With what’s left, it looks like a monster.”

“It’s not its fault!” Ramirez points his chopsticks at Maida sternly. “You only think that it’s creepy because of that one horror movie.”

“Can you blame me?”

“Yes!”

“The SecUnit’s physical appearance isn’t a priority.” Once again, Hawthorne controls the conversation without any outward effort. “But if it’ll put you more at ease, Maida, maybe you can name it. That worked well enough with Scrappy.”

The aforementioned junk bot ambles into the galley at that moment. Two of its longer arms sweep across the table to collect Hawthorne’s and Maida’s empty plates, while Ramirez draws his close to protect his unfinished meal. 

“SecUnits don’t need names.” Maida sits back and fumbles in her jacket pocket for her package of nicotine gum. “It’s lucky that it’s not going in the sale pile with everything else we found.”

“Lucky!” Ramirez bounces in his seat. “That’s perfect, sib! Hey, SecUnit, Lucky! What d’you think?” 

The question is addressed to the open intercom on the far wall, but the response comes through the feed again: I’m sorry, I do not have enough information to process your request.

Hawthorne frowns and taps their fingernails against their mug. “Has it said anything apart from its stock phrases since we brought it onboard?”

“No.” Maida pops two tablets of gum into her mouth. “Not since I repaired its governor module. Honestly, that’s creepier than the face. I liked it better when it was swearing at me.”

“There’s probably a subroutine or something that can be switched off. Or however that works.”

“I’ll take a look again.” She pushes up from her seat. “Not like I have anything more interesting to do until we get to port.”

Ramirez pauses with the last dumpling halfway to his mouth. “You need any hardware help?” Maida shakes her head.

“I’m just going to fuck around a little and see what there is to see in its systems. I’ll tap you if I find something.” Hawthorne nods, Ramirez sees her off with a jovial salute, and Scrappy whistles the first few notes of its work song at her back. 

Maida takes the rungs of the ladder three at a time and drops the last few feet to the lower deck. The hold is a mess, mid-sized mountains of salvage and scrap peaking out of open crates in a defiant victory over Scrappy's inability to squeeze its bulky chassis down the ladder shaft. It's also sweltering hot, with the engines heating the far wall. She shrugs out of her jacket and ties the sleeves around her waist as she picks and kicks her way through the maze of junk that's fallen to the floor.

"When I'm done with you, you're going to have to make yourself useful," she announces as she approaches the slumped form in the corner. "You only need one arm to put shit in boxes."

They'd found the SecUnit buried beneath thirty feet of stone and slag on a condemned post-colonial planet. There was no telling how long it had been abandoned there, and when Ramirez had asked it—rhetorically, as he tended to ask the ship how it was doing and Scrappy whether it had any music recommendations—the apparently inert construct had ground out a halting "None of your fucking business" in retort.

It had been too heavy for the three of them to drag onto the hovercart themselves, and Scrappy wasn't really dexterous enough to be delicate; Most of the right leg had fallen off when it had hoisted the battered body out of the rubble. Ramirez had been confident that that would be a quick fix, and it was, just not a good one. There were a lot of proprietary little pieces that the crew just couldn't replicate with what they had on hand, and the ultimate result was that the SecUnit's leg was held together with an industrial tape cast. Ramirez was proud just to have gotten it (theoretically) mobile. Not that it was grateful.

I am a SecUnit, manufactured for exclusive use by the company and contracted clients. SecUnits serve the dual purpose of protecting both your employees and your investment. 

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. You weren't built to be a maintenance bot." Maida drops to her knees beside it and opens her toolsuite in the feed. "I wasn't built to be a scrapper, either, but you were listening in on us a minute ago. You're lucky to be anything at all, after whatever happened to you."

I am a SecUnit, manufactured for exclusive use by the company and con—

"Shut up," Maida tells it, more advice than admonishment. The flat feed voice aborts mid-syllable. "You were a SecUnit. Now you're, well." She sits her weight back against her feet. "Myles is right. You're just Lucky now."

During the mostly one-sided exchange, the SecUnit has staunchly refused to move a millimeter of any part of its body. When Maida uses its new name, though, its eyes cut sharply to her own. It doesn't have enough face left to glare at her, but she still gets the message.

"Don't look at me like that. The name wasn't my idea." 

She speaks gently, at least by her standards, but the SecUnit twitches as it averts its eyes. Maida cracks her gum thoughtfully.

"That shouldn't have set off the governor. Guess I need to adjust the sensitivity."  

It flinches again, and 'thoughtful' becomes 'skeptical.'

"Something's fucky," she announces. "Let me get in there and see if I can't find it."

With a sound between a rusty hinge and a snapping bone, the SecUnit rotates its jaw.

"You—" The flinch is pronounced this time, an unmistakable jolt. Maida feels a sympathy pang in spite of herself.

"Chill." She can't manage a reassuring tone, so she goes brusque instead. "I'll turn down the voltage, or whatever. Then you can get started pulling your stupid heavy weight around here."

The jaw grinds again, but the voice comes through the feed, all smooth customer service. You do not have the necessary qualifications to perform maintenance on this unit. Please submit your claim through the company to determine whether your warranty qualifies you for discounted repairs or replacements.

"I don't think whatever half-bankrupt contractor it was that used to own you would give enough of a shit to change your coolant." Maida opens a new worktable and taps the feed. "Let me in."

As a human, it's beyond Maida's ability to perceive the SecUnit's 0.7 second hesitation, but she can't miss the convulsion.

"Seriously." She cracks her gum at it. "I kinda feel sorry for you. It's sort of like a human being laid up in medical, huh?"

The eyes lock on hers again. Projectile weapon to her head, Maida would swear that nothing has genuinely frightened her since approaching her parent after getting kicked out of pre-vocational school. Still, though, she can't suppress a shudder.

Company-patented constructs are manufactured using cloned human tissue, it tells her, maintaining its polite tones in the most unnerving lecture Maida has ever gotten. However, unlike humans, constructs are incapable of free thought or sincere emotion. For the physical and mental wellbeing of company clients, personifying and/or bonding with your contracted SecUnit is strongly discouraged.

"Way afuckinghead of you. My mental wellbeing is already beyond saving." Maida shuffles through the mess of the SecUnit's archives, tracing back the path she'd taken to stitch up its corrupted software. "But I wasn't planning to invite you to movie night, anyway. You don't look like much of a media connoisseur."

"Fffffffuck you."

The whole upper body spasms. Maida smiles without humor.

"More of that," she tells it. "But not right now. Lucky, go to sleep and let me work."

The eyes don't have lids to close. Maida tracks Lucky's power down sequence by the dimming light behind its pupils.

[fashion]

Designer Spotlight: Nell Kim, Kate Spade New York

The first Kate Spade New York bag Nell Kim fell in love with was a 3D clutch in the shape of a car—it was unexpected, perfectly crafted, and just made her smile. Now a designer at Kate Spade New York, Kim works with her team to bring unimaginable pieces to life, creating functional, joyful handbags that continue the brand's rich history of novelty designs.

This summer brings us Hoppkins: Italian leather molded in the shape of a frog and printed with a bold gingham print, this little guy is the perfect accent piece for a special event or unexpected pop for the everyday.

Can you describe the design process for the Hoppkins bag?

Novelty is an important brand code at the heart of Kate Spade New York. When we started on concepts for the Summer 2021 collection, we were drawn to a wicker frog handbag from a past season that we all loved. So we decided to reimagine it—this time in both wicker and leather, with an updated shape. We worked with gingham across product categories for Summer. It’s an important print for the season, so we thought it would be fun to do Hoppkins in a colorful gingham print instead of just solid color. Brainstorming and research take the longest when working on novelty bags, but things became easier once we solidified the overall idea. Finally, with the help of my team and cross-functional partners, Hoppkins came to life!

Where did you pull inspiration from when designing this bag?

We took a lot of inspiration from actual images of frogs and all the different frog species but also looked into vintage products that had showcased frog decorations of all kinds. Between those, we were able to form the design.

What were some of the tactical things you wanted to achieve when the team was dreaming up this frog? 

It was important that the Hoppkins bag be fun and stylish but also fully functional. We wanted to make it realistic, but not too realistic— there’s a fine line between bold and cartoon-ish. We also focused on making sure it was big enough to carry everyday essentials, like your phone, wallet, lip balm, etc.

What elements of the frog did you have to problem-solve/come up with a solution for? Did those ideas come from anywhere unexpected?

Inspiration can come from anywhere! One day I had a Zoom call with my team and saw the older wicker bag sitting on a shelf in the background of one of my coworkers’ screens. I thought it was just a cool decorative object at first, and then he told me it was a Kate Spade New York bag, and my mind went racing from there. I took some inspiration from the original bag but updated it to have a rounder belly so it could sit upright on its own. The very first sample was an abstract side-view of a frog, which looked nice on paper, but the actual sample didn’t have the dimensions that we wanted. It took some trial and error, but we finally got there!

Once the initial sketches are done, what milestones happen between that sketch and final product? 

After completing the initial sketch, we worked with the 3D team to put together a full 3D rendering of what the handbag would look like in real life (I’m absolutely amazed by 21st-century technology!). Then we continued to work through multiple rounds of sketches and physical samples to perfect it.

What do you listen to while designing?

Music is so important to me, and I like listening to the right song at the right moment. When I’m designing Spring and Summer collections, I listen to a lot of uplifting, summery songs such as “Space Song” by Beach House, “Polarised” by Cosmo’s Midnight, “Starry Night” by Peggy Gou, and “Saint Tropez” by Post Malone—just to name a few!

What is your favorite part about being a designer?

I love every single moment of being a designer, especially at Kate Spade New York, but my favorite part is when I see designs that I worked on in our stores. Turning an idea that was just in my head into a physical product is pretty amazing. I also love seeing people wearing our designs on the street or a train. I always have the urge to go up to people and tell them I helped design a piece they are wearing, but I’ve never actually done it. So if you see someone looking at your bag and secretly smiling on an NYC subway, it is probably me!

What advice would you give to young designers starting out in the industry?

Work hard, be humble, and just be nice to people. It’s a small world, and the industry is even smaller. You never know who you’ll bump into or work with in the future.

If you had to use three words to describe the bag, what would they be?

Joyful

Colorful

Smile-inducing

I hope that Hoppkins brings joy to everyone who wears it. The handbag adds an unexpected pop to your wardrobe and immediately puts a smile on your face!

Shop the Hoppkins bag right here. 

GIF Credit: Daan Habets  

This interview has been condensed for clarity.

[astralibrary]

yooo @junk-thrillz​ i was your @pnatsecretsanta​!!! among your mentioned likes were the school store four + collin, ocean aesthetic and magical girl au’s, so i made the five of them into an ocean themed magical girl squad!

there’s a cover for their theoretical manga (+ a textured “realistic” version for fun), and then a few “screencaps” of the anime adaptation from the infamous Hijack Arc, in which the monster of the week captures jeff and turns him against his teammates, who then go on to save him through the power of their unbreakable friendship, in true cheesy anime fashion ❤

this was a lot of fun to put together, i hope you like it!!!

(also, not every concept i brainstormed made it into these final pieces, so here are some extra thoughts and such under the cut :3)

even though i feel like cody is more typically associated with blue, i made him pink because he’s the leader of the team and everyone knows the leader is always pink!!!

i gave each individual member their own ocean-related theme, so cody’s is a pirate captain, because it’s a leadery type of role. his weapon is a cutlass as a nod to canon but it’s pink and magical and fun instead of murdery bc this is a G-Rated Funtimes AU,

collin is blue simply because that pink + blue duo am i right ;)

he has a sailor theme, so he’s got a cute lil hat and sailor uniform flourishes on his outfit (the collar, the double stripes, etc)

his weapon is a harpoon bc idk that’s sailory right. even a lil bit

jeff gets orange/yellow because he’s the funny lovable one!

i wanted to give one of them a sea creature theme, so jeff’s theme is jellyfish, which is reflected in his headband and the like, puffy side part of his dress there? it’s a little abstract but hopefully u get the picture kgjdkfjd

his weapon is lil bombs (but Magical), mostly because i thought it’d be a fun reference to the hitball arc... u know, round ball-shaped objects being thrown.... etc

violet is purple because.... i could not resist i am sorry it’s so GOOD

i struggled with her theme, i admit... but it ended up being kind of piratey, but more crewmate than captain? she has that little tied sash around her waist, and the skull bow hairclip is meant to reference a skull and crossbones, which tbh i feel like fits w her general aesthetic anyway so like? it works imo

her weapon (not pictured unfortunately) is a blunderbuss (funny pirate gun)

and finally, lisa is green, because... well she was the last one i assigned a color ghdkfjdkgj i think under normal circumstances she absolutely would’ve been purple bc she’s just got that Vibe u know, but since i wanted to give it to violet so bad i went with green for lisa. i think it suits her tho? it’s kind of a seafoam green, to be a little more oceany hehe

her theme is like, the beach, seashells, etc. the swirl in her hair reminds me of a conch shell so i just kinda. stuck one right in there. and then a few other things like bits of coral and sand dollars and pearls as added decoration

she also has some netting and a few shells around her waist to sprinkle more of her theme throughout her design

her weapon (pictured in the first fake screencap) is a Sick Trident that she looks rly cool holding iajs,

also, their normal everyday clothes have little nods to their transformed outfits! not all of them made it into that third fake screencap but here are the concept sketches!

violet: a skull & crossbones hairclip to reference her skull bow hairclip

jeff: a pair of orange headphones to reference his headband (they should have that jellyfish pattern on them too but i didn’t draw that)

cody: a pink beanie with a little gold feather pin to reference his pirate hat

lisa: a bracelet with a sand dollar and some pearls to reference her hair decorations

collin: a navy blue bowtie with little white stripes to reference his sailor theme

finally, some extra bits i came up with while brainstorming the kind of universe this would all take place in:

the premise is sort of like pnat in that it takes place in mayview, but instead of spectrals and spirits there are magical girl squads who fight monsters (same as the ghosts & spirits basically) to protect the town. rather than mayview being simply overrun with spirits, it’s disproportionately attacked by them, ergo the need for magical girls

the ocean team isn’t the only squad around; another one is made up of the activity club (max/isabel/ed/isaac), who i was thinking would have a steampunk theme? and then i was toying with the idea of the jang being another team, but i hadn’t really thought as far as to what their theme would be

just for fun, the ocean team has a magical pirate ship they can fly around on, and the steampunk team has a magical train they can ride around on, not unlike the ghost train (just like, more steampunky)

the reason there can be multiple teams without everyone stepping on each other’s toes is because there are different types of monsters to fight. i don’t know exactly what differentiates them, but each team’s specific brand of magic only affects certain types of monsters

the journalism club consists of suzy, who is investigating the identities of these mysterious magical girl squads (bc Of Course no one is able to recognize them once they’ve transformed), collin, who is frantically hiding the fact that he is in fact a member of one of these squads, and dimitri, a former member of the steampunk team who left for unknown reasons and now does everything he can to throw suzy off their trail. neither collin nor dimitri know of the other’s true identity (for sure, that is. dimitri has A Hunch)

so yeah! i haven’t had too much time to elaborate on the idea, but that’s what i managed to come up with! again this was a blast, au’s are so fun ;w;

ANYWAY that was a lot of rambling lol but!!!! i hope this is as fun for u as it was for me! happy holidays!!!! 💖💙💛💜💚

[sweetwritertanya]

Nothing To Be Jealous About (Taehyung)

Summary: Your friend has a gallery exhibition for which you and your boyfriend, Taehyung, were invited. But once you see the painting you were looking for the most, Taehyung starts to act weird and you don’t understand why.

Warnings: soft SMUT by the end! This was going to be just a fluffy one, but I couldn’t control myself! Mainly, there will be: erotic body touching, fingering, just the tiniest bit of dirty talk but barely.

Word Count: 3208

Laughs and random chatter fill the large room as you and your boyfriend walk into the gallery. It was a bright space, with tall white walls and lot of artificial lighting even though the large glass windows provided more than enough natural sunshine. Your heart skipped at the sight of so many people already in, walking around and conversing amongst themselves as they appreciated the beautiful art exposed on the walls. It was a warm sunny morning and people were clothed in light fresh garments, between casual and formal wear for the occasion.

You were wearing a cool blue and white strapped knee-length dress with bishop sleeves down to your elbows, a pattern of reddish and pink pastel flowers overlaying the stripes, pink pastel heels to match it. The tie at the smallest part of your waist complimented your large figure and the warm weather was no invitation for you to bring a jacket. As much as you believed you put some thought into your outfit, your partner’s seemed a lot more fitting. Taehyung was wearing a long-sleeved shirt, made of a fresh material, painted as if a work of abstract art itself, with tones of blue, grey and brown. It was tucked into very well-fitted dark jeans that complimented his tall silhouette and shiny designer shoes. Dark wavy hair styled beautifully, you found yourself thinking that he was the one who deserved to be displayed in a museum somewhere.

Out of the two of you, at first you assumed you would be the one jumping with excitement and fidgeting in place due to nervousness, eager to see how your friend’s first art exposition would go. Turns out Taehyung seemed to be even more giddy than you were, particularly interested in seeing one particular piece of work from your friend’s catalogue.

“Where is it? Where is it?” he asks in an almost childish way, contradicting his deep tone of voice in your ear.

You smile and shake your head, taking hold of his arm and guiding him through the space as you talked, eyes out in search of the artist himself.

“C’mon, we need to find my friend first! We can’t just browse around without saying hi to him first and ask how the exposition is doing” you admonish, to which Taehyung pouts disappointed.

“There’s a bunch of people, it’s obviously going great, right? Can’t we just see him after?”

“Nope. And there he is, let’s go!”

After meeting with your friend and congratulating him on the apparent success of his art exposition, Taehyung’s impatience wins him over and he asks about the painting he has been dying to see. You roll you eyes and advise your friend to just lead the way before your boyfriend explodes with curiosity. The man laughs and gladly takes you to the wall where that particular piece was proudly exposed.

“Oh my God, Andre, it’s so beautiful!” You exclaim as you approach it, breathless at the beautiful colors and detail. “I had no idea it would turn out this good, well done!”

“Thanks, Y/N. It’s one of my proudest works and the second most expensive of all the ones in this gallery” he informs, with a wink and moving eyebrows.

“No way, really!” you gasp, unbelieving. “The second most expensive?”

“Couldn’t have done it without you, Y/N. Thanks again.”

As you assure Andre that it was entirely welcome, nothing for him to be thankful for, one arm comes around your shoulders and Taehyung’s hand grasps your shoulder just a bit more tightly than it needed to be, staying unusually quiet, when this was the painting he had been so anxious to see.

“All good, Tae-Tae? What do you think? Isn’t it pretty?” you ask as you look up at him.

He smiles and agrees, nodding with his head, suddenly changing the conversation and asking if your friend could show his favorite piece’s around the gallery. You frown, knowing perfectly well how to distinguish Taehyung’s natural smile from his fake ones, and that was a fake smile if you ever saw one. He kept his arm around your shoulders all the way around the gallery, never getting more than a few inches away from your side, his steps always in sync with yours as you went. It was just the tiniest bit uncomfortable, but you let it go since you didn’t really understand what was going on.

Near the end of the improvised tour around, with just a few more works to show, Taehyung actually excuses himself claiming he had a work-related phone call to make. You found it just a bit weird since he never told you anything about that and warning bells ring around in your brain when he kisses your lips strongly before leaving the building, leaving you a bit dumbfounded next to your friend. He had never been one to display these kinds of affections before in public.

Embarrassed, you keep the goodbyes with Andre short and hurry out of the gallery room, searching for your boyfriend. He was already next to a cab, phone against ear until he sees you and hangs up soon before you come closer.

“Now, what was that about?” you demand to know as you stand next to him, eyebrows knitted together and lips tugging down in frustration.

“Got us a ride, baby. What do you say we go out for lunch? At that place you’ve been wanting to go?” he suggests, ignoring your question and confused stare.

“You have practice this afternoon, it would take too long. And don’t ignore me!”

“Oh, right… How about we just go home and order something delicious, hum? My treat!” he smiles, this time a more truthful smile that shows his gums and reaches his rounded eyes.

Before you can answer it, he guides you to the backseat of the taxi and kisses your cheek before going around and entering, giving the driver the address to his house. You sigh in defeat and go along with it, Tae stretching his arm again around your shoulders once again, pulling you both more to the middle of the back seat than to each other’s sides. And yet he keeps looking out the window, a bit of tension in his sharp jawline.

Once he opened the door to his modern house, in which you got dressed this morning and gathered quite a volume of your wardrobe in his closet rather than yours back at the apartment, you took off your heels while he slipped out of his shoes quickly and tapped on his phone, asking you about what you wanted to eat. In the time it took for you to put on your slippers, place your heels in the proper place and meet him in the kitchen, it was decided to order sushi from a delicious restaurant you had eaten at before.

“It says they’ll be here in less than thirty minutes. I’ll get the table ready” he offers, something you usually had to ask of him.

Placing a hand on his arm, you stop him from reaching for the cupboard where he kept the plates. Your hands travel down the soft fabric of his shirt over his arms and enclose his hands in yours, interlacing his long fingers with your chubby ones. You lean in and peer at his hesitant eyes with nothing but love and worry.

“Tae, what’s wrong? You were fine this morning but now you’re acting weird. What happened?”

The boy closes his eyes and exhales a deep breath, changing his stance and leaning with his waist against the lower cupboard, fingers wrapping sturdily with yours as if to give him courage. He presses his wide lips together so tightly they almost disappear, those broad and expressive eyebrows knitting together.

“You didn’t tell me it was a nude” he murmurs in a deep voice, a bit of frustration coming through the barely annunciated words.

“What?” You had a hard time understanding what he was saying.

“The painting! You never said you were going to pose for your friend naked!” he finally yells, anger and bitterness released from the mask of indifference he had been wearing.

It all seems so clear now, you actually wonder how you didn’t realize it sooner.

“Tae-Tae, it was just of my back! I was wearing pants under the sheet and my chest was covered the whole time” you assured, trying to put any doubt he may have had to rest. “And I told you about it the same day he asked me to model for him. Remember? How I said he would be very professional and if I felt too uncomfortable, I would just give up? You were the one who convinced me to go ahead and do it!”

“Well, I must have not heard the part where you said it was a nude painting!” he defended, huffing through his enlarges nostrils.

“It was not a nude! Again, I was wearing clothes, he just painted it to seem like I wasn’t it” you reinforce.

“Your back was bare for him to see for days while he was painting. I’m not sure I’m okay with another man seeing you like that” he pressed, eyes set on the ground.

“It only took him three days and what do you mean ‘seeing you like that’? You can’t possibly be jealous, right? Of Andre?” you question, baffled by his reactions.

“How couldn’t I? The bastard likes your painting so much he marks it as the second most expensive on his catalogue! The way he keeps smiling at you, and winking at you, in no time he will be asking for a full body nude and I am not okay with that!”

You can’t help it, you actually chuckle at that, the notion being so ridiculous in your mind that it only originated disbelieving giggles. Even the serious not-amused look Taehyung gives you doesn’t stop your smile, even if it does keep you from laughing further. You clear your throat, step closer to him and squeeze at his hands, still tangled in yours, until he looks back at you.

“You have nothing to be jealous about. Andre is very happily and very seriously engaged. And may I add, he is engaged to a very beautiful, exotic and thin lady, so I am quite sure I am not his style.” You enlighten, shrugging your shoulders. “Did you notice? I think he even got rid of one or two of my back rolls in that painting. So, can you really say that is a painting of me when he changed it a bit?”

You see those big coffee-colored eyes blink a few times, long eyelashes making them stand out so much, first in surprise and then in embarrassment, resorting to pulling you closer into a hug where he can hide his face in your shoulder.

“Nonsense. That was your back, I have it memorized by heart.” He whispers against your hair, arms wrapped around your middle and holding you close against his chest.

You smile and throw your arms across his back, hands resting at his shoulder blades, head leaning and resting against his.

“By heart, you say?”

“Hum” is all the response you get, feeling the man’s smile against the skin of your neck as he starts leaving a trace of pecks all around.

You close your eyes and crook your neck to the side for better access, a familiar heat filling you from head to toes with his affections. Taehyung has always been one to shower you with attention and love, that feeling of being genuinely appreciated never failing to amaze you. Your lips part and you let out a sigh, an odd flutter in your stomach making you search for his mouth with yours.

As you move your head to encounter his, lips meet and your head spins at the lovely feeling of his hands exploring your skin over your clothes, embers crackling silently bellow his touch. A thrill runs up your spine and something in your belly churns as his lips engage fervently with yours, soon his tongue darting out just enough to dance with yours, and you taste honeyed spice.

The body gives in to his touch and caresses without even asking for you permission, your tubby frame leaning into his slender one as your knees rattle. The hands that were so innocently brushing your back had turned greedy and naughty, Taehyung’s big hands descending down to your squishy hips and cupping your succulent ass, adoring the way he could barely hold on to all of the well-padded curves.

Kiss growing hungrier, he moves his head to the other side and deepens the kiss, mouth ravishing on yours sensuously, the vertigo feeling taking over your brain and you have to hold on to his sides in order to not fall. But he has you powerfully in his hands, darting now to your luscious thighs, digits sinking in to the dimples in the flesh and squeezing it before soothing it with smooth strokes.

Suddenly, Taehyung turns you both around so that you are the one leaning against the lower cupboard, hands grasping at the top to keep you steady at the abrupt change, while he presses his body close to yours and dips his head into your neck again, determined to taint the skin there.

“I have all of you memorized by heart, love. All this heavenly body of yours, made for me and only me to appreciate. Better than any poor attempt of portraying it” he assures.

Your breathing is more than erratic now, fervent blood rushing to your puffy cheeks, waves of arousal pouring down your spine. Those hands that have proved time and time again to be both your curse and your salvation are finding their way into your inner thighs and there is no denying how stirred you were. The itch that had formed between your legs was becoming more and more uncontrollable, the stain on your lace panties a clear indication of that.

The index finger pulls the fabric to the side while the middle finger dives between your swollen folds, immediately drenched in the gathering of your juices. Taehyung hisses at your ear and then grunts, teeth catching your earlobe before whispering in a low erotic voice.

“So wet for me, already, darling? You know I can’t control myself when you get like this.”

“A-and you k-know… I always get like this when it’s you, Tae” you counter back, shamefully aware of how little could get you going when it came to this man right here, with one hand under your dress, between your legs, and another crawling up your body.

“A match made in heaven” he sniggers, finding your lips again.

You whimper into his mouth when his hand cups your breast, thumb moving up and down the fabric just above where he knew was your hardening nipple, making your body shudder at the stings of pleasure shooting to your core. The digits placed at your womanhood start moving too, middle and ring finger sliding back and forth on the silky center, mercilessly teasing your throbbing hole and rapidly finding your puckered pearl.

Impatient, Taehyung pulls the neckline of your dress down your tits, immediately doing the same to the cups of your bra, exposing your breasts to him. His head dives in, mouth wrapping around one nipple and suckling on it until he hears you scream out, his free hand tweaking and twisting the other one before he switched places. In the meantime, his digits frustratingly start slipping in and out of your hole, just in little thrusts that don’t dive all the way in, while his thumb draws circles around your clit slowly driving you insane.

“Taaeee….! Please!” you plead in a whimper, moisture starting to slide down your legs and an excruciating tightness in your abdominal area demanding satisfaction.

Your hands are fisting at the fabric of his shirt on top of his biceps and you have half a mind to worry about ripping it, knowing the shirt was expensive as all hell. But at this rhythm you would pop off every single button of his shirt, rip his pants out and ride him until the next century in order to find your release.

Sensing your urgency, Taehyung smiles with one nipple still in his mouth and finally, finally entered his two long fingers inside your tight hole, sliding them in to the knuckles and providing the most heavenly stretch as he scissors them inside, your walls clinging to him like a vice. Your face scrunches up in pure delectation, the subsiding movement that follows dragging moans from the depth of your soul as you claw this man’s arms and threw you head back with eyes closed.

He twists his wrist and in a nice pace starts plunging his fingers in and out, the pad of his digits rubbing deliciously against your walls and curling just at the right place inside, effortlessly reaching for that spot inside that strikes your whole body with an overpowering current of pleasure. You were already so close to the edge, so eager to jump, and when his thumb starts jiggling your fleshy button in little circles, at the same time he speeds up his fingers, rather than jumping you are pushed into your edge and explode into a blinding infinity, crying out Taehyung’s name and body convulsing, your pliant inner muscles fluttering in hyper-sensitivity around his still moving fingers.

Toes curled and body contorted, your slowly breathe with relief at the waves of pleasure slowly undulating through your body, your body slowly but surely coming down its high and your eyes capable of opening and not just seeing dots of white and gold. Instead you see this magnificent man standing proudly in front of you, hand removed from your core and cleaning his dripping fingers with his mouth, the other hand rearranging your clothes back in place, pulling the cups of your bra back up as well as the neckline of your dress.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to get that” he says, and you are still a little bit too numb to really understand.

“What?” you say, confusion mixing with your post-orgasmic serenity.

As if answering your question, you realize the doorbell is ringing, meaning someone is at the door. Taehyung shrugs and locks down at himself. Following his eyes, you realize that on the front of his tight black pants, there is a clear outline of his very erect cock, almost bursting out of the fabric.

“Can’t answer the door like this. Here, have my card and pay for the meal.” He takes his wallet from his back pocket and hands you his card. You nod and make way for the door, but he grabs you by the elbow just enough to whisper lowly in your ear, creating goosebumps at the back of your neck. “And hurry, we don’t have much time before I have to leave for practice.”

And you know he wasn’t referring to the amount of time he had left to lunch with you. Paying the delivery man, you find yourself thinking how convenient it was you ordered sushi, for any other dish would have grown cold by the time you two were done.

[sorcerersofnyc]

The Last Thing Left (Zemo x F!Reader) 7/9

If it wasn’t so painfully ironic (and hilarious to watch,) Helmut would find the relationship between Sam and James a little sad.

Ghosts weren’t enough to hold two people together.

While they wait for Torres to locate Donya Madani, Zemo brings Sam and Bucky to the home he once shared with you.

You reunite and he reflects upon his relationship with you (his wife's friend and his friend's wife) and your journey from being people with mutual friends to partners.

Part Seven: Zemo keeps his promise

Angst, various mentions of death & mourning, Zemo's wife's name is Heike because of comics.  I use Serbian Cyrillic as a stand-in for Sokovian. The reader likes waffles (this is a non-negotiable fact).

Note: Main Character is neutral in most regards, but the story was written with my own cultural background in mind. (In other words, I won't say what she looks like but I envision her as being black.)

First Chapter | Previous

***

You looked beautiful that night, beautiful in a way he never quite noticed before.

As Helmut held your hand to guide you from the seat of the car, feelings of guilt, and fear, and hope, and longing all swirled around his abdomen. And when you smiled at him, your eyes deep and pooling with emotions he wasn’t really ready to confront yet, electricity sizzled in the air.

You stepped inside with a word.

“That was really fun,” you said, breaking the silence as you toed off your shoes. “We’ll have to go again next time.”

“I’d rather not return there,” He replied, pulling his dark coat from his shoulders. "I much prefer the classics.”

Helmut knew those were fighting words, words that would keep you in his company for just a moment longer.

“You need to be more open-minded,” You scolded him, a playful challenge in your voice. He accepted it with ease.

“I’m open to plenty of new possibilities, I assure you.”

“Are you?”

“Indeed.”

There was something more to your banter that evening, something that spoke of many new possibilities.

*

He received a message from Oeznik one day, a reminder to check on one of the other estates.

He didn't really want to go — he finally narrowed down the identity of the Winter Soldier's handler and it would only be a matter of time before he found his hiding place — but he needed to investigate some financial discrepancies and make an effort to preserve his family's legacy.

So he invited you to accompany him and together you traveled to Italy, to a massive building miles away from any city. The building itself was ugly, a horrific mix of Romanesque and Rococo architecture, but the surrounding land was a lovely stretch of woodland and soft plains.

“How many estates do you own, exactly?” You asked, gazing out the window of the car as it entered through the gates.

“Only a few,” he shrugged. “You know about the 1908 Revolution, don’t you? When Sokovia’s nobility was forced to give up their land claims? My family lost claim to our Barony but my third Great Grandfather invested assets outside of Sokovia as a safeguard to his wealth." It’s a story he was told many times. It was meant to be a point of pride for the Zemo family, but all he came to realize was how paranoia drove a wedge between his family and the nation they claimed to serve.

For generations, his family held influential government positions and made the rules for others to follow while placing their money, and their trust, elsewhere. "Though this particular estate was passed down through my Mother's side of the family. As you can see they had a...interesting sense of design, much like you."

When the car stopped in front of the estate, a lovely older woman with a long nose and round face escorted you to the Sun Room.

The large windows offered an impressive view of the gardens and expanse of the woods beyond them.

“Hey,” you turned, calling for his attention as he dipped his fingers in a basin of soapy water. “What’s that over there?” Beyond the trees were tall lights, LED panels stuck to the side.

“A racetrack,” he answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh. Doesn’t it get loud?”

“No, why would it?”

“Because of all the people? And the cars?"

“No, no, you misunderstand, my friend. The track is mine.”

"Huh?" You snapped your head back at him.

“I like cars,” Helmut shrugged, “remind me again to show you the collection in Berlin.”

“The collection in Berlin?” You raised both your brows. It wasn’t your first time hearing about it, but you must have forgotten. “Is there anything you don’t have?”

“Beach-side property?” He suggested, a sly smile on his face.

“Oh, no! Whatever will you do without one, Baron?” You rolled your eyes exaggeratedly.

“I suppose I’ll have to buy one quickly. Where would you like to visit next?”

A maid wheeled in a cart before you had the chance to reply. She nodded toward him politely but looked at you as though she were confused. She had the skittish look of someone who had something to say, but remained silent as she began to set the table.

"Leave it," Helmut told her with a raised hand. She paused again.

“Baron?”

“Leave it,” He repeated, much lower this time. The maid lowered her head before retreating, leaving the room with a puzzled look on her face.

You shot him a concerned glance.

“You ok?”

“Of course,” he told you, “have a seat.” He

set the table instead.

Helmut wasn’t particularly angry. Rather, he felt annoyed. He didn’t appreciate the look the maid gave you, as if you didn’t belong there.

He could certainly understand the confusion.

News of Heike and Carl’s demise spread throughout his network of employees, even the ones he himself never checked in on (he counted on Oeznik to do that for him.) So when he arrived with you as his company, they must have assumed he already moved on.

You took a seat at his request and allowed him to pile food upon your plate.

“If you’d like to go for a ride,” He began, returning to your prior conversation, “I can have someone prepare the track for us. I have a collection here as well, though it isn't large.”

"I thought you said you had to work." You met his gaze.

"I can spare time." He said, because at that moment, as the sun poured into the windows and framed your face like a halo, he’d do anything for you.

*

The delectable smell of sun-dried tomatoes, garlic, olives, and warm buttered bread wafted through the air as Helmut told of the time he spent here as a child. He had many stories of running through the gilded halls, playing with decorative swords, and badgering Oeznik with questions about his supposed history as a soldier and spy.

You spent a long time talking. He eyed the bottles that lined the shelf on the wall but ignored them for the sake of keeping sharp senses.

And when your lunch settled, he escorted you outside.

A car needed to be called to reach the garage through the thick patch of trees that surrounded it.

The garage was another monstrosity, a wide cement structure that resembled a bunker, but it served its purpose well. It was warm, and the fluorescent lights gleamed off the paint of his sports cars, vintage and modern alike.

Someone, his mother, he believes, had a viewing lounge built behind a thick glass wall. Sheets covered the couches and chairs, but he knew it to be a comfortable place.

“Take your pick,” he offered you, gesturing to the cars all parked in a line.

After a few moments of wide-eyed gaping, you settled on a Bugatti in electric blue. Helmut approved of your good taste.

Like a gentleman, he opened the passenger door for you. He grabbed a pair of gloves from the glove compartment as you marveled at the soft leather and strapped yourself inside.

He smiled and, unlike a gentleman, lied when he told you, ‘I won't go too fast.’

He sped up quickly.

"Slow down!" You demanded, bracing yourself as he neared the car's top speed.

“Don’t worry,” he assured you, arrogance heavy in his voice, “I’m an excellent driver.”

The track wasn't perfectly symmetrical, in fact, it was quite abstract with its curved roads and the long lanes flanked by trees.

You eased up little by little and by the time of your third go around the racetrack, your eyes were wide with unfettered joy.

“See? What did I say?” He offered you a smug smile when he turned into the garage once again. You might have laughed at the look of disappointment on your face when he didn’t go around a fourth time. "Would you like to go around again?" He adjusted the fit of his gloves nonchalantly.

"Yeah, let’s do it again!" You nodded.

"The same car or a different one?"

"Do you have one that's faster?"

"Do you truly have to ask, Драга? Of course I have one faster."

Your excitement was infectious. He nearly forgot what it was like to truly let go and lose himself in the fun of the day. Instead of working or plotting or even thinking of those things, he showed off each of his favorite cars—the red Porsche, the orange McLaren, the silver Lamborghini—and took you for a ride in each of them.

And then, you asked about his darling—perhaps not his; it was produced and acquired nearly a decade before his birth, but he adored it all the same— the silvery-blue Jaguar E-Type Roadster.

There was no particular reason why he adored it, (‘aside from the fact that it was beautiful, he thought. Like any man of his means and interest, Helmut admired beautiful things.

He watched you admire the sleek, rounded design.

“What about this one?” He imagined, for a moment, sitting with you inside the convertible, your legs stretched before you, your hair pushed back by the wind, your form, and your laughter the only thing in focus as the world blurred by.

“This one isn’t for driving.” He decided quickly, because the road might not have held his focus and driving wouldn’t have been what he wanted to do. “And the clouds are coming through.”

It was meant to rain that evening and, true to his words, clouds gathered and grayed the sky.

When it got dark, he turned on the bright lights that framed the road and took you out one last time.

"I'd let you drive one if you wanted," he told you, before adding, "on the straight road," rather quickly.

"We can do it again tomorrow? You won't be too busy?"

Your smile was free of worry, free of doubt or hesitation; it was beautiful. He's glad he didn't take you out in the Jaguar.

"We can do whatever you want, Драга."

"I just want to spend more time with you, it doesn't matter what we're doing."

*

After dinner, Helmut escorted you to your bedroom.

You bid him goodnight and disappeared behind the ornate door.

Helmut retired to the library, not quite ready for bed. It was a large room with tall shelves stuffed with books of many shapes and sizes. He spent nearly an hour perusing the shelves until stumbling across a worn copy of Il Principe, The Prince. He was well familiar with the text. He was tempted to pick it up, to slide into a chair near the window, and read to the soothing sound of rain outside the window. He flipped through the pages with idle interest and wondered what you thought of Machiavelli. ‘You certainly wouldn’t agree with his philosophies,’ he thought. He considered bringing you the book, anyway.

But then he sighed. He spent the entire day ignoring his responsibilities in favor of spending time with you.

But just as he moved to slide the book into place, he heard soft footsteps moving toward him. The person approaching was used to going unnoticed.

“Oeznik,” Helmut greeted when the man reached the edge of his periphery

“Good evening, Sir.” Oeznik greeted, bowing his head respectfully. “Did you enjoy your day out on the tracks?”

“I did,” Helmut answered truthfully, the book still in hand. “Were you able to speak with the staff today?”

“Yes, I believe I’ve found the source of the discrepancy.”

“Thank you, Old Friend. I’ll take care of the rest.” He slid the book back in place and planned to leave, but Oeznik watched him carefully as if he was considering something.

“Was there anything else?”

“Forgive me Sir; I was just thinking. The rain will clear soon, so you should enjoy the new day.”

Helmut raised a brow. Helmut’s known Oeznik for far too long to think that his seemingly innocuous comment had anything to do with the weather.

“You think I should spend another day without working?” Spend another day with you.

“Time off is good for your health, Sir. I’ll handle what needs to be done.” Oeznik stood with his back straight, his eyes focused and clear. He trusted Oeznik with many things, but he wouldn’t leave his mission to anyone else.

“Regarding the staff?” Helmut asked, leading him toward the conversation he wanted to have. But Oeznik was old and stubborn. He’s known Helmut since he was a child and knew each of his games.

“Whatever else needs to be done.” Was his stern reply.

“I appreciate your offer but I’m fine.” Oeznik didn’t answer, he simply hummed. And that hum, that simple sound of dismissal, annoyed him. “You think I’m not?”

“You are. And it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you this way, sir.” It was Helmut’s turn to hum now, to demise what he knew Oeznik wanted to say.

It’s been a long time since he’s seen him happy.

“Perhaps you should take a stroll out in the garden,” He says suddenly, turning to leave as he does. “It’s still nice for this time of year. Goodnight, Sir.”

“Goodnight.” Oeznik exits the library and disappears from view. Helmut presses his lips into a thin line and returns to his room and go to sleep—but not before taking Machiavelli down from the shelf and calling for a glass of whiskey.

*

“Would you like a tour of the estate?” Helmut offered after breakfast—he needed to inspect everything anyway. You agreed.

So he offered you his arm and took you through the gilded halls, recounting the building's long but turbulent history.

"I'm surprised you don't have a horse or something," you joked, looking over the southern balcony and into the grounds below.

"Would you like a horse?"

"Find me a unicorn and I’ll buy it myself.”

After the tour, you put on your jackets, and Helmut took you through the garden path. The warm weather plants weren't thriving, but it was beautiful nonetheless.

"This is nice," you sighed as you sat together on a bench. "I'm glad you invited me here, it's like a vacation."

"As am I," he answered, and the truth in his words surprised him.

Helmut was happy you were there, sitting beside him on a bench on a wild winter day in Italy. It was simple, but Helmut something inside him stirred and his heart swelled with affection for you.

You stayed like that for a while, relaxing beneath the shelter of winter flowers.

But then a chilly wind blew., you pressed a little closer, and he turned your way.

Your eyes met briefly.

“Are you cold?” He covered your hand with his own, warming them between the soft leather of his gloves. You met his gaze again and then your eyes fell lower, over his nose, his mouth, his neck, down his chest, and to the place where his hand held yours.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

You released a shuddering sigh and then, with newfound confidence, gazed into his eyes again.

"Helmut," you said, voice just above a whisper.

"Hm?"

“Is this ok?” It was an open-ended question, one that could have meant anything and everything all at once. But somehow he knew exactly what you wanted to say.

“Maybe,” was his honest reply.

And then, as if pulled by some magnetic force, you both leaned forward as if the answer could be found in the space between your lips.

Neither of you made it very far before and he pulled away, turning his gaze toward the garden path.

You both looked away, the silence that settled between you louder than any words either of you could say.

"I just wanted to thank you…” You said softly. “I know you were supposed to be working today. It must be hard to have so much to manage. With...Dominik,” You said his name with some measure of difficulty, “There’s just money in the bank he left, a few stocks that manage themselves but you...it must be hard to be a Baron." You rambled nervously.

"... I'm glad to spend this time with you." He confessed.

There was little else he'd rather do.

*

Neither of you acknowledged what happened—or rather what failed to happen—and how it left you wanting, aching for something that couldn’t be said.

So instead you smiled politely, exchanged the usual pleasantries, and went about the rest of the day.

You were right; he had work to take care of. There were contracts to renew, work orders to approve, and papers to file.

So while you got cozy with a lovely charcuterie, he acquired an entire bottle of whiskey and set to work.

*

That night he thought about what happened in the garden, what might have happened had he not pulled away.

He let himself imagine the sweet press of your lips against his own, the hesitant glance you might have shared before taking the plunge and moving into deeper kisses and maybe something more.

The very thought made him yearn for you—and he certainly wouldn’t find an answer to that in a decanter.

Helmut sat up in his bed and glanced at the wall. You were there, just on the other side, and he wondered if you felt the same, if you felt the same need for him as he felt for you. But before he had the chance to rise, to knock upon your door and take you in his arms, he received a message on his phone.

Oeznik, true to his word, had done some work. He uncovered a piece of important information, something about the UN meeting setting a date for late March.

There was to be a vote on legislation meant to limit the power of the Avengers.

He was out of time, he realized, dread bubbling up to the pit of his stomach.

He had to leave.

*

You ate breakfast together the next morning and once again went your separate ways.

“Come find me when you’re done working, ok?” You said, looking as though you had something important to say. He ignored your expression and nodded, taking the last bite of food on his plate.

Helmut took his time to survey each of the rooms, talk to the staff, and confirm that everything was in its proper place.

Next came the troublesome part, the part where he needed to plan for you. He needed to make arrangements to ensure your wellbeing and prepare you for a future he couldn’t be a part of, no matter how much he longed to be.

The work was tedious, and though he cursed himself for failing to have done so months prior, Helmut persisted. He spent the entire day tucked away in his office, talking to various lawyers and financial advisors.

Unfortunately, their ‘advice’ was all but useless.

He poured a drink.

Within a few hours, Helmut learned it wouldn't be wise to give you his entire estate under the contingency of his death, imprisonment, or other incapacitation. There was very little that obligated you to uphold the ‘Zemo Legacy.’ Though Helmut knew they only cared about lining their own pockets.

At first, he didn’t care. But then he realized how the act of giving you his fortune would place you under public scrutiny.

The last thing he wanted was to cause you trouble, for rumors about mistresses or infidelity to fly. Marriage was completely out of the question, but a partnership... a partnership would work.

He had the paperwork faxed to him right away and had someone draw up an addition, something stating that you, by right, would inherit his assets and estate. Later he'd assemble a team of trustworthy people to assist you and ask Oeznik to guide you through everything.

He paid a fortune in expedition fees, but it was worth it in the end.

The only thing you had to do was sign.

*

By the time he found you, it was dusk. You were in one of the sitting rooms, a mug in hand as you caught up on some American show he never quite saw the appeal of. The main character was charming and savvy but the romantic subplots were repetitive and tiring.

“I’ve concluded all my business here,” Helmut told you, lingering near the door. “We can return home as soon as you like... unless you’d prefer to stay.” Helmut didn’t mind the idea of leaving you in there, in that estate.

It was large, remote, and fully staffed. You'd want for nothing living there.

“It’s been fun, but I should get back to my work soon.” You gave him a noncommittal shrug, placing down your mug down on a coster.

“I can have your supplies sent here,” He offered.

“Vacations have to end sometimes, Helmut,” you teased. “At least they do for us normal people, maybe not so much for Barons.”

He pressed his lips together in a tight smile.

“It doesn’t have to,” he insisted.

“Do you want to move?” You paused the show you were watching and sent him a wary gaze.

“Would you?”

“Well... I never thought about it. I mean...it’s been fun but I don’t think I’d want to live here. We’re miles away from... everything.” You gestured toward the window, out to vast stretches of land that seemed to go on forever. “It’s been nice to have people wait on me hand and foot but if we moved, I’d miss my friends—And I’d rather live somewhere less... remote.” You decided.

We.

Your choice of words wasn’t lost on him—your plan for the future included him. You expected him to be in your life. ‘As a friend?’ He wondered, ‘Or something different?’ Helmut opened his mouth to speak but shut it again just as quickly. He couldn’t bring himself to ask.

“I see then. I'll return you home whenever you’re ready.”

“Return me home? Is there something going on?” You ask, shifting out of the blanket you were wrapped in. You looked confused, afraid of what he might say and what it would mean for the future you hoped to have together.

“Something came up, Драга, I’ll be leaving again.” He confessed, falling back to half-truths.

“Oh.” Though your voice was a soft whisper, your disappointment hardened that simple phrase, turned it into something piercing.

“I hoped you’d consider staying here while I was away,” He continued, “but if not I’ll hire a housekeeper, someone to keep you company—”

“Where are you going?” You pressed.

“To take care of business.” Had he met your gaze then, Helmut might have broken completely.

“When will you be back?” You pressed again, a deep scowl coming across your face.

“I don’t know.” He replied softly, and silence enveloped the room.“I thought we moved past this, Helmut. Why are you keeping secrets from me?” He didn’t have an answer.

“I have no intention of receding my promise to you. You’ll be taken care of-”

“Are you coming back?” You cut him off.

Helmut could feel your gaze burning through him. And when enough time passed, he turned to face you with a heavy heart.

“I don’t know,” he finally replied. He hated himself at that moment, more than he had in a long time. Because you didn’t look angry, you didn’t even look sad, you looked as though you’d just been betrayed.

“I’m sorry,” he offered, but you weren’t interested in apologies.

The breath you released was ragged as you struggled to hold back your confusion and outrage.

“Is...is this about what happened in the garden?”

“No,” He said quickly, closing the distance between you. Helmut stood an arm's length from the couch, hoping you would understand. But you turned your gaze away.

Kneeling, Helmut cupped your face between your hands, forcing you to turn his way once again. “This isn’t about you. This is about my work. I have enemies-”

“Helmut,” you cut him off, placing your hand upon his chest, your tone softer now, pleading. “Please don’t run off again. Please don’t leave me. I'm sorry about what happened, I’m sorry I tried to kiss you-”

"Don't apologize." You offered him far more than he deserved: happiness, stability, love—a good life. But as he stared at you, gazed up into your beautiful eyes, he knew that a happy future would never come to be.

Because if he kissed you, he would never want to stop. He would stay, and he would be happy by your side. But happiness in a world without Carl, without Heike, without his Father or his friend...it was far too much to bear. He wasn’t strong enough to bear it. He would always be a broken man. And you deserved something better, something more than the shattered heart he could provide.

“I hope one day you can forgive me.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “But I must fulfill my promise.”

And he left.

He didn’t answer your calls or your texts—he didn’t even open them. There was no need. When he used his phone, it was to listen to his voicemail, to hear Heike's voice.

Because what he needed was conviction, an anchor to his grief. He needed to remember what he lost, not what he chose to leave behind.

***

Helmut rises from bed and prepares for the day ahead; He cleans, shaves, and dresses before heading to the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee.

There’s a subtle connection between love and cooking, one that Helmut feels as he sets about quartering one cup of strawberries and combining them with sugar and water over heat. After all, he wouldn’t make syrup for just anybody (Sam and James will have to accept whatever bottled variety of syrup you kept in the pantry.)

He then rolls up the sleeves and sets to work, mixing flour, eggs, milk, and sugar into the base of a waffle batter and pours it into the heated cask of your beloved waffle iron.

He pours a cup of coffee into a mug and takes a drink.

As the delicate aromas fill the air, he hears a quiet conversation between Sam and James grow louder as the two approach the kitchen.

“Gentleman,” Helmut greets, not bothering to turn around and meet their collective gaze. He opens the waffle iron and shuts it once more because they weren’t finished yet. He decided to give the test batch to James.

“Zemo,” Sam says first, “They found Madani—dead. She died in Riga, a city near the Baltic Sea. We have to get moving.”

Helmut quieted for just a moment. He underestimated the severity of Madani's condition, overestimated the time he had to share with you.

“I see,” he speaks, finally turning toward the two.

Sam appears to be well-rested, but James... James looks about the same as always, tired and tense. “Riga, you say? I have a place we can go.”

“Any more surprises we should know about?” Sam asks, nodding his head toward the stairs, to the room where you still slept.

“Nothing of the sort. I’ll have the plane prepared and we can be off by noon.”

Helmut wanted to spend more time with you, but it seems he was out of time once again.

[twdmusicboxmystery]

American Revolution Theme - Part 1: Beth’s D.C. Spoon

So, this week I’m going to talk more about a TON of symbols we’ve connected to the American Revolution Theme. These are always exciting to uncover because it shows how these themes—many of which have stumped us somewhat for years—are finally coming together. These were conversations we had over weeks, so I’ll definitely be breaking them up into chunks for you. 

Take it away, @wdway! 

@wdway:

We've all been looking at Beth’s spoon for 6+ years and I know I, like so many people, thought it was an indication that Beth would show up in Washington D.C. Suddenly, looking at it the other day I realized the spoon could be telling us Beth will be part of a Revolution.

I would have never gotten this had it not been for the connection @twdmusicboxmystery made to the Swamp Fox and the story of Greene and the American Revolution. Where the spoon says “Washington DC,” I'm now looking at that realizing that Washington may refer to George Washington, the leader of the American Revolution. The D.C. stands for a coda, a repeat. Beth will be a part of a new American Revolution.

I started remembering how we have seen pictures of George Washington in the show. I know s5e7, Dead Weight in the cabin with the Governor, as he came through the door, there is a portrait of George Washington. I always thought it stood for the city of D.C. That it represented where they would end up.

We've also seen images of the Washington Monument on Fear (also in TWD when they first got to Washington in 5x11). Actually, if you look at the handle of Beth’s spoon, I think that might be the Washington Monument. There have been lots of hints. We’ve just always read them differently.

I remembered a painting that tptb released a rework of a famous painting substituting the characters from TWD that was done several years ago and I have searched @twdmusicboxmystery’s archives, but I cannot find the painting. Here's the original.

(I can’t find the TWD version of this anywhere, either. But like the Thanksgiving painting they’ve been using the past few years, they used this and replaced all the people’s faces with characters from TWD.)

I remember we thought it was a little strange why they would do this painting with characters from the show. Now it makes a lot more sense. I believe that Rick replaced George Washington but I can't remember who the other characters replaced. I'm especially curious who replaced the person in red, because I believe that will be Beth in the new Revolution. Here's what I found in the description of the painting. It speaks of the different people representing the different American population and then it goes on to say that some believe the figure in the red coat and black scarf may represent the women that fought and died for freedom.

So, it might be another female character like Carol but ultimately, I believe it is supposed to be Beth. Remember the red cape in Beth's prison cell. Another painting that Beth has been a substitute in was DaVinci's Last Supper. Jesus and Mary Magdalene both wore red.

Another image would be that Beth is associated with wolves and the famous story of Little Red Riding Hood who obviously wore red.

I believe the lady in red represents Lady Liberty. The reason I say that is because in my search after I read about this figure information on Lady Liberty popped up. One of the earliest versions of Liberty was the Roman goddess Libertas which description sounds an awful lot like the Tarot card of the Empress. Another image that popped up under Liberty was this one and I gasped when I saw it and thought, “Oh my gosh, I think I'm on the right track here.”

Remember this from TWB? (We saw it near Iris in a tent in one of the episodes.) I remember us having a discussion about how we believed that she represented Beth and yet we didn't know anything about the Revolution storyline at that time.

I'm about to take you down a side tunnel and this one is also so very good. In the episode Still, after Beth picks up the spoon, she looks over and sees Daryl stuffing jewelry and money into a black backpack. And now that I think about it, it's Daryl who initially carries the backpack on his back next to his red rag hanging from his back pocket. Red and black, the colors of Liberty.

So many things I want to point out. To start with, the pattern of the rug is diamonds a Beth symbol. Daryl is leaning over a dead walker wearing a watch. There is also another watch in the loot that Daryl is shoving into the bag, along with gold jewelry, pearl necklace a water symbol, also a military one because of the famous Naval Base, Pearl Harbor.

If you enlarge the picture so that you can see the bundles of money, they're all $20 bills, turned so we only see what most people consider the backside of the $20 bill. I'm embarrassed to say I didn't off hand know what the back of a $20 bill was. I definitely knew Andrew Jackson is on the front, so I took out my wallet and pulled out a $20. On the back was the White House.

Here a side note about the $20 bill that I found out when I Googled for more information. In 1861, the 20-demand note (what it was called) had on the front side, the Goddess of Liberty holding a sword and shield and on the back was an abstract design printed in green.

(Now back to the present $20.) My first thought was White House, white=Beth. You might be surprised at this, but I have watched the episode Still a number of times through the years, haha. I know the ending very, very well, as does everyone else. I remembered that Daryl and Beth used one of these bundles to burn the Moonshine Shack down and it was Beth who actually lit the match to the bundle and Daryl who throws it.

I guess I actually did pay attention in school so many years ago because it hit me like a ton of bricks that the White House was burnt down by the British in the War of 1812. Not only the White House was burned but also the capital and the Library of Congress.

Was it a coincidence that they used a bundle of money featuring the White House to burn down their dwelling? I think not.

Did I hear you ask the question is there anything significant about the fact that Andrew Jackson is on the front of the $20 bill? I'm so glad you asked. The answer is yes. This is something I remember from American history and the fact that I live in Tennessee and that Andrew Jackson’s home is within 30 minutes of where I live. You can't grow up in Tennessee without knowing some of the history of Andrew Jackson.

First let's start with a little brief history of the War of 1812, which lasted more than that year. This is my non scholar way of telling you about the War of 1812. After Great Britain had won the war with France and had taken away Napoleon's power, they decided to go back to the colonies and see if the first round was just a mistake because they were the dominant power. They were the British Empire.

One of the last big conflicts before the British finally realized they were dealing with the wrong people was the Battle of New Orleans. The British wanted to dominate the Mississippi river and if they could do that, they would basically be taking over the territory on the other side (the West), but first they needed to take New Orleans.

The British didn't think it would be a problem because they were a great force and the Americans led by Major General Andrew Jackson, were a small ragtag army made up of militia frontiersmen, slaves, Indians and pirates.

That's right: pirates.

Jean Lafitte was a pirate who ran a smuggling empire. The actual battle only lasted a short time, even though the British had a huge force. They fought the Americans the old-fashioned way, by simply marching forward, whereas the small force of Americans who were made up of people had to count every bullet were sure shots. In 30 minutes the British lost 2,000 and Andrew Jackson’s army lost fewer than 100.

You're probably thinking that was kind of interesting but what does that have to do with the storyline in TWD? This is just my guess, but I think there will be 2 wars or 2 revolutions that will include Rick and Beth. The first one will be against the Commonwealth and the second the CRM in the spinoff.

Back to Beth’s spoon. I thought occurred to me about the dinner scene in Alone where Daryl is eating the jelly and it has always been an odd scene. People have talked about it off and on for years how he's very obviously really over playing the eating of the jelly with a spoon.

The question occurred to me though, could that spoon be Beth's Washington D.C. spoon? Granted, there's no way to know for sure but it's an intriguing thought, isn't it? If in fact one of the meanings of the spoon is what I stated above, that the spoon hinted there would be a coda, a repeat of a fight for freedom similar to Washington's American Revolution, then the sharing of the spoon would be indication of the sharing of the storyline that they would be an equal part of the fight to overthrow a corrupt system and give freedom to the good common people that are still out there.

One of those definitions that I read about a coda is that it is a repeat that eventually brings a satisfactory completion to the piece of music. In reading that, I realize that the coda spoon is an indication that Beth and Daryl since they both are connected with the spoon both will be part of the satisfactory completion of the TWD story. It means that we will see Beth before the series ends.

We can tell that there's some type of twists in the spoon on the handle shortly above scooped area we think of as the spoon, it looks to be the same place that we see it on the first 2 shots featuring this spoon.

Again, no true proof but it does tend to give some credence to the idea. This gives another importance meaning to us seeing the spoon in Leah's shack. It points to the fact that we're about to see a coda.

READ PART 2 HERE

[murasaki-murasame]

Thoughts on Higurashi Gou Ep19

OK this episode was actually just fucking with me by having Rika at a Western-style preppy boarding school drinking tea in a parlor and having debates with people. This level of concentrated Umineko content bait is going to literally kill me at some point.

Thoughts under the cut. [Plus even more Umineko stuff, but honestly who can even blame me at this point, lmao]

I don’t think I commented on it last week, partly because I was hoping we’d get the actual visuals for it in this episode, but the new ED theme is extremely good. I think I like it a lot more than the first one, but they’re both really good. I’m kinda biased though, since the new ED feels extremely Umineko-y, but still, it’s really good.

I’m kinda surprised that we still haven’t gotten the visuals for it yet. And instead of just having the ED theme play over the final scene of the episode or something, it was another round of having the credits roll over a black screen for the duration of the ED, which makes the continued lack of visuals really noticeable. I guess it’s possible that they just haven’t completed the animation for it yet, but I’m hoping that they’re holding back on it because something about the visuals for it is a spoiler for something that’ll happen in the next episode or two. And that makes me really curious to see what it might show, since at this point there’s only a narrow list of things that could probably be ‘spoilers’ for upcoming stuff in this arc.

Realistically I doubt it’d be on the level of straight up showing Umineko characters, but I’m probably still gonna get my hopes up anyway, lol.

At the very least, with how this episode brings us to 1987, and we know that Rika dies as a teenager in 1988, we’re rapidly approaching the point where everything goes to shit, and we already know that Satoko apparently got contacted by Oyashiro-sama, so honestly it wouldn’t be that strange for some kind of witch character to show up, even if maybe they’ll be presented in a somewhat abstract and indirect way.

Anyway, this episode went a long way to show the path of trauma that leads Satoko to initiating the new loop, but I think there’s going to be more going on in the next episode or so that really pushes her over the edge. Obviously she’s already in a downwards spiral because of Rika drifting away from her, and her being socially isolated all over again, but I don’t think this alone would make her go as far as trapping Rika in an endless torture loop.

I wonder if maybe Satoko is going to start getting directly bullied by the other girls at the school, rather than just being ostracized by them. It’d suck to see it happen, but it’d be the sort of thing that’d make her situation even worse than it is now. 

From what we heard here about how the school runs, I don’t think they’d directly expel Satoko for having low grades, but if she winds up slipping into the Special Class, it’d probably make her feel more and more like everything could fall apart for her at any moment, which could also make her way more volatile.

I’m pretty sure we already know that Rika ends up getting killed in 1988, and that’s how she got thrown into the new loop, so I’m curious to see how that ends up panning out. Satoko might just end up snapping and straight up killing her out of anger, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s some kind of horrible accident. With what Satoko was saying in this episode about wishing she could just have fun setting up traps around the school, I could see her setting up a situation that ends up getting Rika killed.

Either way, it feels like we’re on the brink of disaster, and I’d be surprised if it takes more than one more episode to show how everything falls apart and the loops start.

Which is also making me wonder how the arc as a whole will be paced out. In spite of being the longest arc in the show, it feels like there’s still a LOT that needs to be covered. We still need at least one more episode to conclude this big flashback sequence, then we’ll probably get some sort of flashback to show how the Gou question arcs played out in the background to solve those mysteries, and then we still have to go back to the end of Nekodamashi to follow up on that whole cliffhanger, and get into whatever the true ending of the show will be.

I still doubt that we’ll get a full second season, but I’m just not sure if five more episodes will be enough to do everything it needs to do.

At the very least, I’ve basically given up hope on Gou doing more than the bare minimum to touch upon Rena or Shion’s backstories at this point, lol.

I’m also still wondering what the ending will be like in the first place. Ideally everything would just work out fine and Rika and Satoko will talk things out and resolve everything peacefully after we return to Nekodamashi, but I’m feeling more and more like this will have a darker ending than that. Mostly because it really feels like this is barreling straight towards the ‘Bern/Lambda origin story’ route, and that just makes me feel like the ending will be really depressing and make it more clear why Bern is so messed up in Umineko.

And on that note, on top of it just being really nice teasing, it’s actually kinda neat to see Rika entering this sort of Western-style ‘high society’ life, since it goes a long way to clarify why Bern’s entire personality and aesthetic is the way it is. They never really ‘explained’ it in Umineko, aside from it just matching more with Umineko’s more Western-style setting, and in a lot of ways it feels like this ‘explanation’ was thought up way after Umineko was written anyway, but even as a retroactive explanation it’s still nice to see them show why Rika ends up that way. They haven’t shown exactly why she’s so bitter in Umineko, but at least now we know why she’s the sort of person who likes stuff like this.

In a lot of ways, everything about this whole arc and the St. Lucia’s stuff kinda feels like Ryukishi’s sort of clumsy way of directly tying together these loose threads between Higurashi and Umineko, and showing us exactly why Bern ends up the way she does. I kinda agree with the criticisms I’ve seen that Rika apparently idolizing high society upper-class life and seeing St Lucia’s of all places as Heaven on earth feels really forced, and I think that has a lot to do with what I said about how Ryukishi probably just designed Bern as a Western-style goth lolita because that fit Umineko’s setting more, and he’s only just now trying to go back and give an in-universe explanation for it via Gou. So for better or worse it kinda has this vibe of retconning parts of her character in order to brute-force this connection between the two series.

Though I can’t help but be OK with it, at least for now, since it just makes it feel like he’d only be this overt about it if he was actually setting up for something better that justified making up all this new story stuff just to contextualize Bern’s whole character in Umineko. It might just be his way of tying things together and he’s not setting up for anything, but it’d feel like a waste at this point if he’s not, considering how many people are already feeling like he’s messing with Rika’s character retroactively to make it all tie into Umineko. So it’d at least feel more justified if it’s actually setting up for something along the lines of an Umineko anime remake, even if that’s still probably just wishful thinking. 

Anyway, I think this episode is gonna cause lots of discourse about how people feel about both Rika and Satoko’s choices in this episode, but my stance right now is just that they’re both understandable, while also both being in the wrong in their own ways. Ultimately this just boils down to them not communicating with each other properly. I can see what people mean by Rika’s whole attitude here feeling out of character, but I can understand why she’s genuinely enjoying her new life, and honestly she’s always had major issues with not talking to people about things and just going with the flow, so I get why she’s not doing more to reach out to Satoko, especially since doing so would mean rocking the boat with her new friends who clearly all look down on Satoko.

And on the other side of things, I think Satoko’s whole side of things makes total sense, even though she’s also in the wrong for continuing to respond to trauma by bottling it all up and rejecting any help or communication that people offer her. That at least feels like a totally natural extension of her personality, especially when you think about how the current timeline is one where Teppei never came back to the village, and so she never had to have her whole character arc where she learns how to open up about her trauma to people and seek help. Also the end of the episode makes it feel pretty likely that this is going in the direction of her re-developing HS, which would go a long way to explain why she’d go into a full on downwards spiral, mentally. I highly doubt that she actually got completely cured for good, even if Hanyuu’s absence changed how the virus works.

Which also reminds me that we still haven’t heard anything about what happened to Satoshi, despite them talking about the virus more or less going away. At this point I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s past the point of no return, and learning about his fate might be one of the things that fully pushes Satoko over the edge.

Either way, I get why a lot of people don’t really like where this is all going, but I’m at least enjoying it for what it is [even though I’ve had to really readjust my expectations for it, lol]. But tbh at this point a big chunk of this is just me being hype about the pipe dream of a new Umineko anime, and if this ends up not leading to that, I’ll probably be a lot harsher on Gou in hindsight after it ends.

[calamity-bean]

Wanted a better look at the embellishment on Yvon’s jacket, so I took some caps! Some general observations:

The jacket is basically in the cut of a tunic, falling to about midthigh and with the left breast wrapping over the right so that the sides of the lower skirt-like part overlaps.

Symmetrical decorative patterns are found around the collar (meeting in a shallow vee over his upper back and gently tapering in front to form lapel shapes that terminate around the waist, covered by his belt) and also around the sleeve cuffs.

The prevailing motifs seen in these designs differ between collar and cuffs. The ones around the collar seem abstract: curving linear and geometric patterns. The cuffs, however, share the curving line style but are more representative, depicting floral/botanical elements.

I had initially wondered whether some of the round/raised bits might be beads rather than thread. I found some real close-up shots in which you can see the stitching, though, and it looks like the bits I thought might be beads are just loops or whorls of thread, so I think I can confirm that it’s all thread embroidery.

I’m putting the rest of this under a cut because it’s quite long, but: basically, I was interested in the style of decoration on his jacket, particularly the floral aspects, and attempted to do some historical research. I honestly was not as successful as I would’ve liked, and this post has actually been sitting in my drafts for almost two weeks now because I kind of got stuck. But on reflection, I still do want to share the screenshots as references, my observations, and at least the gist of what I looked into and what I found.

So! Under the cut: rambles about what interested me and what info I was looking for, links to the work of modern Ojibwe and Métis artists, and also a brief note on Yvon’s rifle strap, which I think is quite interesting as well!

Basically, when I was initially collecting the above images, my interest was particularly piqued by the floral decorations on the cuffs. The show identifies Yvon as Anishinaabe, and Zahn / Nat Geo have identified him specifically as Ojibwe, and I had a vague memory of reading at some point that Ojibwe art is particularly associated with floral designs. Floral designs not being solely unique to Ojibwe art among indigenous arts, and Ojibwe designs not being solely limited to floral ones, but a strong association nonetheless. I think most famously this takes the form of colorful, intricate embroidery with tiny glass beads:

(image source: Native American Artist-in-Residence: Jessica Gokey)

This is often done on black velvet or, as in the case of some of Gokey’s work that I saw, on black broadcloath, which I would say is probably about the same type of fabric Yvon’s jacket is made of — a plain, dense, sturdy wool. Although my understanding is that Ojibwe didn’t begin using colored glass beads of this sort until they acquired them via trade with Europeans in about the 19th century, beads made of other materials would, of course, still have been available in Yvon’s time, and I was still curious about whether the designs themselves on his jacket accurately reflect authentic patterns and motifs used by Ojibwe people. What was clothing and decoration like among Ojibwe and Anishinaabe people in the 17th century? What styles and materials were used? Are the elements in Yvon’s embroidery more generic, or are they recognizably specific in style to his culture, etc.?

And so I began with the Wiki-ing and the Google Scholaring and the skimming of articles. Unfortunately, a lot of the most promising-looking sources were only available as printed books (some of them quite expensive, too), so I didn’t have access to them, but from the articles I was able to browse, I did learn some relevant things. I found sources saying that before glass beadwork, Ojibwe decoration did use other types of beads and also used embroidery, which tracks with what we see on Yvon. I found a number of sources saying that floral motifs specifically were introduced to people of the Northeastern Woodlands in the 17th century via contact with Europeans, particularly nuns, who brought with them their floral embroidered fabrics and their floral folk arts.

However...

Although there were plenty of mentions of Ojibwe beadwork and floral designs, and a good number of more modern examples, I had difficulty finding in-depth information that discussed it specifically in the context of Barkskins’s time period (or prior to European contact, either). Sources focusing on the art in later time periods might still be relevant to what Ojibwe decorative arts were like in the 17th century, but I just don’t know enough to know. The example images I found were of beadwork from the 19th century or later, and even then, they were buried in a slew of Pinterest results that I really don’t consider reputable sources, because sure, they might be legit, but they might also be completely mislabeled. 

In general, I felt less than confident about what my searches turned up. This is a topic I know little about, have no personal or academic experience with (not being Ojibwe and not having formally studied anything relevant to this), and I’m wary of misinformation here because I know that indigenous people have spoken about seeing biased, simplified, and outright inaccurate info presented even by sources that should seem credible, like museums. Not to mention conflicting info. Remember I mentioned I read about floral designs being introduced (or at least popularized) by European art? And yet I also saw other sources rejecting this idea that Ojibwe floral motifs have their roots in colonizers’ art rather than simply in drawing their own inspiration from nature. In general, I just didn’t feel confident that I had the insight or education necessary to evaluate my sources or synthesize conflicting info, and my brief, superficial research didn’t seem reputable or interesting enough to shed any particular light on Yvon’s clothing. So I basically put this post aside.

(image source: Native American Artist-in-Residence: Sarah Agaton Howes)

But ultimately, I still want to highlight Yvon’s embroidery, even if only from an aesthetic, costume-detail perspective, and I also want to share some of the lovely videos showing the work of modern Ojibwe artists I came across while I was looking all of this up! Here’s another link to this video featuring the work of Jessica Gokey, which I inserted near the top, and here’s one in which Greg Bellanger discusses some of the history and process of his art. In this interview, Sarah Agaton Howes brings up the idea of Ojibwe floral designs as a historical means of teaching about medicines and preserving that cultural knowledge, especially in times when passing down such knowledge was suppressed. I thought that was very interesting and am kicking myself because I did actually look briefly at a thesis extract on Ojibwe botanical/medicinal knowledge, but now I can’t find it again. I also enjoyed this shorter video with Howes as well. And this video featuring the work of Delina White gives us some examples of these floral designs primarily as embroidered thread, like on Yvon’s clothing, rather than as beadwork:

(image source: Delina White)

The final video I’ll link is this one, which is about Métis floral beadwork rather than Ojibwe. I don’t know how similar/different the two styles are (nowadays or historically), but since Métis share roots with Ojibwe and Anishinaabe people, and since Métis culture developed out of the setting, cultural interactions, and approximate time period of Barkskins, I thought it still relevant enough to rec here. Not to mention that it’s just pretty and I wanna rec it. All of these videos offer a lot of interesting information and perspective on the craft itself as well as on the history and tradition.

Before I go… One little costume detail I do feel reasonably confident offering my own speculation on is that the decoration on Yvon’s rifle strap appears to be quillwork — porcupine quills dyed and shaped into designs. I could be wrong, but the texture, colors, and pattern look very similar to the examples I’ve seen, and it’s an art form that would certainly have been established, culturally relevant, and available to him in this time period. So that’s the tiny bit of original input I’ll contribute to this post!

In general, I think the whole Barkskins team — costume design very much included — has shown that they put a tremendous amount of research and thought into the design and construction of this show. I’m sure Yvon and his costume were no exception. And I love the overall look!

[mi5014ikepearson]

SHAPE THEORY - “CIRCLES,  SQUARES, AND TRIANGLES”

There are three basic shapes that can be used to draw characters: circles, squares and triangles.

Each shape means something to the subconscious mind. This shape language ties through the entire character, from the basic body shapes, to details like the shapes of their eyes or ears.

HOW DO GEOMETRIC SHAPES AFFECT THE PSYCHOLOGY  OF THE CHARACTERS?

Basic shapes can change the overall feel of your character.

Let’s talk about three basic shapes,  that are used in virtually every character’s design:

CIRCLES - “SOME ROUNDED SHAPE LANGUAGE”

You probably have seen some chubby faces and wondered: “Isn’t that cute?”

Well, there’s a reason for that! Circles and ovals are mostly used for friendly and outgoing faces. You can experiment with putting circular shapes in different parts of a character’s body, clothes, and hair to show the same warm feeling.

Circles make your character feel soft and friendly. If you want your character to be approachable and fun, circles are a good idea to go off of

SQUARE - “QUADRILATERALS, THE CORNERSTONE OF SHAPE LANGUAGE

Have you ever thought about the reason why square-faced people look more confident and inflexible? 

That’s because square-like shapes relate to straight vertical and horizontal lines that communicate strength, stability, and confidence. 

Squares can both be large and daunting or comforting and clumsy. They often depict steadfast characters who are dependable and are commonly used for superheroes.

Squares make your character feel bulky and heavy - as squares and rectangular shapes are great for conveying a character’s strength and physical weight.

TRIANGLES - “THE POINTS OF SHAPE LANGUAGE”

And finally, the evil shape! Triangles are the most dynamic of the three shapes we have mentioned so far. 

Bad guys and villains are often based upon dominant triangular concepts, as they appear malicious, sinister, and communicate with the most aggression. It is the circle’s most opposing shape and is often used for antagonists.

Spikes = pain, right? 

Basically, there are 3 types of shapes that are usually used in mainstream design:

Organic shapes: think about all the free-flowing and non-symmetrical shapes in nature; clouds, planets, earth, they’re all randomly formed and we call them organic.

Abstract shapes: when you combine the two other types of shapes without any specific goal or structure, you got yourself an abstract shape.

Geometric shapes: these are all the shapes that you learned to draw as a kid like squares, rectangular, and circles. They are often symmetrical and structured shapes with sharp edges.

Now, it's time to think about and find ways of expressing who the character is through their visuals.

FACES

Eyes: The saying goes that "eyes are the gateway to the soul," and even how a person's eyes are shaped can say a lot about them. A furrowed brow alludes to an angry soul, while strong laugh lines mirror a happy spirit. Eyebrow shapes can easily tell something special about the character.

Jawline: Strong jawlines could tell the audience that a character is bold, tough, and confident. Meanwhile softer jawlines emote feelings of youth and kindness.

Nose shape: There are many different styles of noses for characters. A hooked or crooked nose showcases mysterious past or perhaps a nefarious schemer. Small button noses are good for cute, young, and innocent characters. Strong angular noses are great for confident or tough characters.

Ears: Ears can describe certain mystical characters like elves or orcs, but they can also be adorned with jewelry that will speak about the person. Someone with elegant traditional earrings may come from royalty. Stark metalwork earrings on the other hand could be used for harsher, more misunderstood characters.

Body language and overall posture of the character has more weight of emotion compared to facial expressions (eyes, eyebrows, lips and so on)

BODIES

[douchebagbrainwaves]

EVERY FOUNDER SHOULD KNOW ABOUT BUSINESS

This rule is left over from a time when algorithm meant something like the current Google? Why do patents play so small a role in software? Any hacker who looked at some complex device and realized that with a tiny tweak he could make it run more efficiently. In something that's out there, problems are alarming. It has for me. It may also help them to grasp what's special about your technology. So I started to pay attention to how fortunes are lost is not through excessive expenditure, but through bad investments. Fear the Right Things. Microsoft Word. But there are limits to how well they'll be able to hire better programmers, because they'll attract only those who cared enough to learn it.

4 million a month to the rapacious founder after two years? They just don't want to seem like they had to make concessions. Perhaps a better solution is to assume that anything you've made is far short of what it might have been. If no one else will defend you, you have to publish it, and that's just as bad as the mid seventies. Perhaps a better solution is to look at the problem from the other end. When a company starts fighting over IP, it's a sign they've lost the real battle, for users. Startups usually win by making something so great that people recommend it to their friends.1 You generally apply for a broader patent than you think you'll be granted, and the startups are mostly schleps. True, but I don't think publishers can learn much from software. So while they're often nice guys, they just can't help it.

And not just from the technical community in general; a lot of users. So if you're the least bit inclined to find an excuse to quit, there's always some disaster happening.2 This essay is derived from a talk at the 2006 Startup School. Patent trolls are hard to fight precisely because they create nothing. Economically, the print media and the music labels simply overlooking this opportunity? There's nothing special about physical embodiments of control systems that should make them patentable, and the examiners reply by throwing out some of your claims and granting others. You can't even drive the thing yet, but 83,000 people came to sit in the driver's seat and hold the steering wheel. Technology trains leave the station at regular intervals. Startup acquisitions are usually a lot of mistakes.3 Cross out that final S and you're describing their business model.

Nothing is more likely to buy you than sue you. Experts can implement, but they can't design. Before central governments were powerful enough to enforce order, rich people had private armies. But different things matter to different people, and it's unclear whether anyone could be. If nuclear winter really is here, it may be safer to be a contrarian to be correct, and by that point the innovation that generated it has already happened. The startups we've funded so far are pretty quick, but they don't understand software yet. Most successful startups make that tradeoff unconsciously.4 And for programmers the paradox is even more pronounced: the language to learn, if you love life, don't waste time, because time is what life is made of. We tell the startups we fund not to worry about it, because a toll has to be more than new. If you grow to the point where anyone considers you worth attacking, you're doing well. Viaweb.5 In middle school and high school, what the other kids think of you seems the most important quality is in a startup.

If you had a handful of 8 peanuts, or a shelf of 8 books to choose from, the quantity would definitely seem limited, no matter how obscure you are now. I don't really blame Amazon for applying for the patent, but that has historically been a distinct business from publishing. You can lose quite a lot in the brains department and it won't kill you unless you let them. So I advise fatalism. Both make sense here.6 Every couple days I slip and call it Viaweb.7 Actually, it's more often don't worry about this; worry about that instead. I don't think they hamper innovation much. This is a little depressing.8 VCs should be trying to fund more of. When attacked, you were supposed to fight back, and there is something grand about that. Patent trolls are companies consisting mainly of lawyers whose whole business is to accumulate patents and threaten to sue companies who actually make things.

A mere 15 weeks. The truth is more boring: the state of the economy doesn't matter much either way. Perhaps we can split the difference and say that mobility gives hackers the luxury of being principled. Viaweb, and became Yahoo's when they bought us. I now had to think about something I hadn't had to think about something I hadn't had to think about something I hadn't had to think about something I hadn't had to think about before: how not to lose it. The optimal ways to make money by creating wealth, not by suing people. I was leaving I offered it to him, as I've done countless times before in the same situation. To make money the way software companies do, publishers would have to become software companies, and being publishers gives them no particular head start in that domain. If companies stuck to their initial plans, Microsoft would be selling printed circuit boards. It's more like saying I'm not going to apply for patents just because everyone else does. We tend to say yes to the second, but no smarter than you; they're not as motivated, because Google is not going to go out of business if this one product fails; and even at Google they have a lot of bureaucracy to slow them down.

There are several reasons it pays to get version 1 done fast. 9% of the people who thought during the Bubble all I have to keep repeating.9 It's easy to let the days rush by. So why do so many people complain about software patents stifling innovation, but when one looks closely at the software business I know from experience whether patents encourage or discourage innovation, and the content was what they were selling, and the startups are mostly schleps. But the breakage seems to affect software less than most other fields. You can lose quite a lot in the brains department and it won't kill you. It's ok to be optimistic about what you can see people doing. And one of the earliest sites with enough clout to force customers to log in before they could buy something.10 It seems to me the only limit would be the number of startups is not the criteria they use but that they always tend to focus on the goal of getting lots of users. This principle is very powerful.11 The American way is to make money from it indirectly, or find ways to embody it in things people will pay for information otherwise?

So it is with hacking: the more rewarding some kind of job. Well, founders aren't much better. A copy of Time costs $5 for 58 pages, or 8. Even now I think if you asked hackers to free-associate about Amazon, the one to choose is your growth rate to compensate. Some examples will make this clear. You don't need to be constantly reminding yourself why you shouldn't wait. But while I'd spent a lot of regulations.

Notes

To get all that matters, just as well as problems that have been the plague of 1347; the point of a company. I'm writing about one specific, rather than admitting he preferred to call all our lies lies. College English Departments Come From? Startups are businesses; the point of a place to exchange views.

And the reason this works is that the most abstract ideas, because they were already lots of type II startup, but you get paid much. Back when students focused mainly on getting a job after college, they compete on tailfins. Google will pay the most important section.

If the company.

VCs seem to have balked at this, on the firm's site, they're nice to you; you're too early really means is you're getting the stats for occurrences of foo in the same town, unless the person who would make good angel investors. The best thing for founders; if their kids to them about. In theory you could probably be to write an essay about why something isn't the last place in the case, is deliberately intended to be significantly pickier.

Particularly since many causes of the 800 highest paid executives at large companies. Surely it's better and it will become less common for the average NBA player's salary during the war, tax rates were highest: 14. For example, would increase the size of the latter case, not because it's a proxy for revenue growth.

If near you doesn't mean easy, of course it was wiser for them by the Clayton Antitrust Act in 1914. This explains why such paintings are slightly more interesting than random marks would be more linear if all you have to admit there's no center to walk in with a degree that alarmed his family, that must mean you should prevent your investors from helping you to raise money succeeded, and how good they are to be about 50%. So far the only reason I say in principle is that it's no longer working to help a society generally is to how Henry Ford got started as a single VC investment that began with an online service.

I couldn't believe it, by doing another round that values the company, but half comes from. I say the rate of change in response to what you really need that recipe site or local event aggregator as much income.

The US News list tells us is what the rule of thumb, the reaction might be able to redistribute wealth successfully, because investors don't yet get what they're really saying is they want both. It was revoltingly familiar to slip back into it.

In a typical fund, half the companies that seem promising can usually get enough money from mediocre investors. So by agreeing to uncapped notes. Since most VCs aren't tech guys, the last thing you changed.

There is usually slow growth or excessive spending rather than trying to sell services than a nerdy founder trying to describe what's happening as merely not-too-demanding environment, but they hate hypertension.

The First Industrial Revolution, England was already the richest and most sophisticated city in the few cases where a great founder is being able to redistribute wealth successfully, because spam and legitimate mail volume both have distinct daily patterns.

Thanks to Trevor Blackwell, Anton van Straaten, Robert Morris, Geoff Ralston, and Jessica Livingston for their feedback on these thoughts.

[ksrblog]

Hi! My Bachelor is over now and here you can freely read my preprint. 

Abstract: Colour blindness is more common than one would believe. It affects approximately 1 in 12 men and 1 in 200 women. With possibly 126 million gamers worldwide there is a good chance 5% of these are colour blind. This should be big enough population to be of interest to game developers. However if one goes online and searches colour blindness and games, one will very quickly notice that this is a problematic topic as games still fail their colour blind players on a regular basis. If game developers think of implementing accessibility, they most often misunderstood or failed to identify what it actually is these players struggle with the most. That is why they fail to introduce efficient colour blind aids and modes. There are of course also success stories but they are in great minority compared to cases where these developers failed the colour blind demographic. In most cases game developers tend to go for colour blindness correcting filters. These usually fail to fulfil their purpose and sometimes make the colours look unnatural to the colour blind player. These filters can be useful, but mostly only if used as a support to really thought through colour blindness aid. Logical question here would be: What is it that these players struggle with? And this is a relevant question but it is very context dependent, therefore more universal way would be to first understand what colour blindness actually is and how these people see. Troubles with colour blindness begin already with its name. The term colour blindness itself is very misleading. Actual ‘colour blindness’ as in inability to see colour is very rare, it makes up less than 1% of all colour blind cases. Most colour blind individuals can see colours and can even name majority of them correctly. The difference between non-absolute colour blindness and a normal vision is that colour blind sight misses the ability to recognise correctly either one of the three colours of the spectrum, that being red, green or blue. This is why it is more correct to call this condition Colour Vision Deficiency or shortly CVD. There are different types, severities and causes for this vision impairment and so each combination of these is completely unique. If every colour blind player’s sight is completely different how can one then design for these players? While typically seeing population relies on colour information and in that even predominantly hue, these people give generally much higher importance to traits like lightness, saturation, texture, shape, symbols etc. These should be always paired up with colour, it is a good design practice that not only colour blind players would appreciate. Designing for accessibility shouldn’t be too complicated if the game is designed well. Many colour blind players don’t need much of adjustments for their gameplay to improve significantly. This I tried to demonstrate in the second half of this bachelor thesis. For these purposes I designed an interactive experiment. Play-testers were divided into two groups: colour blind group and a control group composed of typically seeing players. These players all got the same level to play twice and afterwards got their times compared. In the first round they don’t get to adjust settings, but they can surrender. In the second round players can adjust settings containing colour blindness aid. The hypothesis was that the typically seeing players will pass first round easily and the second round there would be improvement because of memory and learning. Meanwhile the players of colour blind group should struggle with the level in the first round, they should take significantly longer to pass the level than the control group players. But in second round after enabling the colour blindness aid their performance should improve to be a match to the typically seeing player. This level was a simple colour coded one, where players had to pass challenges to clear the level. This level went through quite few iterations till it was ready for the final play test. The colours have been carefully selected to trouble majority of colour blind players and to not cause any confusions or disturbances to typically seeing player. Final design was a linear level where players had to pass challenges in order to progress further. One type of challenge was the coloured targets challenge. Based on difficulty player would get either one or more targets and one reference. This reference had unique combination of colours and shapes on it and player had to find a target with matching attributes. These targets would be rotating and as player progressed the difficulty increased. If player shot the right target a new room would be open in front of him. This target challenge has been reiterated in the level multiple times. One time occurring challenge was a maze where in order to get out a player had to find a way out by following red flowers in green grass. The flowers were effectively almost invisible for colour blind player and contrasting to typically seeing player. Because all these were colour based challenges all that was really needed was to exchange the imperceivable colours for a colour that was well visible to typically seeing players. Players, even though they could adjust other attributes, most of the time stuck with this setting and passed the second round much faster without any issue. Their times were even comparable with the times of typically seeing players. This was just a small demonstration of how little uncomplicated changes make a big difference in a gameplay and experiences.