#and maybe you'll find your art beautiful as well

[theboxfort]

Peace and love

[phantomarine]

Clam's Quick Tips for Starting Your Very First Webcomic

Howdy! Here are the three bits of advice I tend to give people who ask me about getting into webcomic-making. Maybe they can help you jump into the fray with a little less fear.

1) Make Your First Chapter a Pilot Episode

You will be told by webcomic veterans to start with a short, simple comic idea first - which is wise - but if all you can think about is your big magnum opus, then you might as well hop in, right? Otherwise you'll just be glancing back at the other cooler project forever.

But if you can't start with a small simple story, start on a small, simple part of that larger story. Your first chapter should be a snapshot of the main conflict - show us a simple scene with few characters, ease us in slowly, keep things clear and focus on emotion/impact/clarity. Get the audience to care by offering something easily digested, but full of promise.

Once you're done with that 'pilot' chapter, and you're feeling more comfortable with the whole comic process, you can open the gates and show us the larger world. At that point, you'll be way more ready.

2) Simplify Your Art Style For Your Own Sanity

Always try to make your webcomic's art style as simple as possible - the standard rule is to use only 75% of your artistic skill for every comic page you make. Otherwise you will burn out quickly and terribly.

But you also need to be PROUD of your art style. If you're really feeling itchy, add a couple bells and whistles to your style so you can look at the finished page and say "Yeah, looks cool." You'll find the right balance the more you draw.

Also, don't be afraid to change your art style as you go along. Ultimate consistency is often impossible in webcomics anyway - so embrace your desire to try new things, streamline your work, whatever you feel needs to happen to be happiest. Sometimes the coolest part of reading a webcomic is noticing that style change - so don't hesitate to embrace it!

3) Resist the Reboot! RESIST!

The curse/blessing of drawing the same things over and over is that you'll inevitably get better at drawing those things. The trouble comes when you look back at old stuff and start thinking "Damn, I could draw that way better now."

You must recognize that this feeling never goes away. Not after a hundred pages. Not after three hundred. Not after a thousand.

I think everyone should be allowed one soft reboot for their first webcomic. Redraw some panels that bother you. Change up some dialogue if it doesn't make sense with your new story ideas. Do maintenance, basically. One of the beauties of webcomics is that they can be easily edited, without reprinting a whole book or remaking a whole game.

But if the ultimate purpose of a webcomic is to tell a story, then constant reboots will just be retelling the same story - slightly better each time, but the same at its core. We've heard it before. Most audiences would rather you save your strength and just keep going, rather than circling back year after year and going "Wait wait wait! I'll do it better this time."

Reboot early, not often, and only when you absolutely must! You're a storyteller, and you're constantly getting better at telling your story. Don't be ashamed of it - look back how much ground you've covered, and keep walking!

---

That's a good start. Happy webcomicking - don't be afraid to jump in, but be prepared to learn a lot very quickly. And if this advice doesn't work for you or adhere to how you did it, that's absolutely fine - webcomics are diverse by nature, and so are their creation processes. Feel out what works best for you, and good luck!

[ukiyowi]

Channelled Messages 💌

Channelling messages from your: Future Spouse, Closest Friends, Spirit Guides, and Future Self

Note: Please DM me if you want a reading I am going to be putting a discount on all my readings because I am in a rough spot financially and need to pay money for my room which I was not aware of earlier and could be kicked out if I don't at the earliest. Book a reading || Tip me! (Ko-fi)

♡ Future Spouse

♡ Closest Friends

♡ Spirit Guides

♡ Future Self

Future Spouse

💌 Pile 1

My Love,

I imagine us walking hand in hand through the seasons of life, supporting each other through every victory and challenge. Together, we will create a collage of memories, painting the canvas of our shared life with love, laughter, and endless adventures.

I promise to be your biggest cheerleader, your confidant in times of doubt, and your unwavering support through thick and thin. I vow to cherish and respect you for the unique individual that you are, appreciating both your strengths and your vulnerabilities.

You are scarred right now but theres no reason to be. You are so filled with love and light and everything good, just because someone else cannot see it does not mean it doesnt exist. If I could bring you the moon and the stars I would in an instant. I don't think there has ever been or will ever be someone who is as bright as you.

Please take care of your health, you cannot make excuses for bad habits and keep living life like that, no matter how stressful work or life is please make time for yourself. We still have a while to meet so take care of yourself for both you and I.

Song: It's a Shame - The Spinners

💌 Pile 2

Hey Darling,

Our connection, I believe, will be deeper than words can express. It will be built on trust, respect, and a genuine desire to see each other flourish. While I can't predict the future, I am steadfast in my commitment to cherishing every moment we have together.

We have met before, I don't think you remember me, but I do. your beauty had me stunned and so did your mannerisms. I admire the way you carry yourself, with so much dignity and poise, as if the personification of grace itself were standing in front of me, sweeping me off of my feet.

I will shower you with anything you want, praise, adoration, gifts, love, time, energy, and be there whenever you need. Life is probably fun for you right now, unfortunately for me the road is a little rocky. Enjoy this time with your friends and family, your loved ones truly care about you and want what's best for you even if they can't articulate it well.

Stay strong butterflly and look for me in your dreams, I promise to be a frequent visitor. hope you likfe sunflowers, lillies, and magnolias angel.

Song: Mango bananas - Flyana Boss

💌 Pile 3

Hi sweetheart!!

I have a feeling that when we finally meet, there's going to be a bell that rings making us instantly know like it did in Your Name, also hope you like animation because I love it, I also really like drawing and art, do you? Please say yes!

Life seems to be going too fast for you right now so you need to make sure that you don't lose yourself in the hustle and bustle of everyday life. Calm down and do things you enjoy, maybe you'll like pottery!

But beyond the laughter and silliness, I want you to know that I'm dead serious about creating a remarkable life together. We'll support each other's dreams, even if they involve opening a cat cafe or becoming professional trampoline testers (hey, it's a thing, right?). We'll navigate the ups and downs of life hand in hand, and I promise to be your rock when you need it most.

Song: Glue Song - beabadoobee

xoxo

Closest Friends

💌 Pile 1

Life has been quite the rollercoaster lately, filled with its usual ups and downs. I've had my fair share of challenges, but there have also been some incredible moments that I wish I could have shared with you in person.

I often find myself reminiscing about the good old days when we used to spend hours talking and laughing about anything and everything . Those memories are some of my most cherished, and I truly miss you.

Please know that no matter where life takes us or how much time passes, you will always hold a special place in my heart. Your friendship has been a source of strength, laughter, and endless support, and I'm incredibly grateful for that.

Let's make a promise to catch up soon, whether it's over a cup of coffee or a long, heartfelt phone call. I genuinely look forward to hearing how you've been and sharing all the stories we've missed out on.

With love,

Initials may include: R, P, W, Q, L

Song: Window - Still Woozy

💌 Pile 2

Leaving behind the place we've called home for so long is both exciting and bittersweet. While new opportunities wait and adventures call, it's hard not to feel a tinge of sadness at the thought of being farther away from you.

Although physical distance may separate us, please know that you will always hold a special place in my life. Our bond is not defined by geography but by the strong connection we share.

And the internet exists so we'll be fine right? You promise to not lose touch with me even when we're both busy? I promise I will remember to call you, if not daily then weekly, please don't forget me.

I wish you could join me and we could embark on this together but life has its ways of separating the best people we've met so that we are forced to widen our horizons and social circles lol, hope it's not too much for either you or me.

Will miss you,

Initials pulled: A, J, M, S, K

Song: Missin something - Zach Templar

💌 Pile 3

I love the days we've shared and I wish to share so many more with you in the future, god I am so so so excited for everything thats to come!

Do you remember that time we decided to go on that impromptu road trip? No plans, no GPS, just a car full of snacks, good music, and an unshakable belief that we'd find our way eventually. We got lost more times than I can count, but it was so much fun and truly unforgettable.

And how about those late-night conversations that somehow turned into early-morning confessions? We've solved the world's problems over a cup of lukewarm coffee more times than I can recall. The neighbors must have wondered if we were running a 24-hour café.

As I sit here reminiscing about these and countless other memories, I can't help but smile. Our friendship has been a rollercoaster of laughter, silliness, and genuine connection. And I wouldn't trade a single moment of it for anything in the world.

Sending you a virtual high-five and a whole lot of fond memories, here's to hundreds more, and don't forget about the promise we made about the weddings okay?

Your platonic soulmate,

Initials may include: G, H, B, L, T

Song: Right Here, For Now - Bakar

xoxo

Spirit Guides

💌 Pile 1

Embrace change with an open heart and a curious mind. Life is a series of shifts and transitions, and it's in these moments of change that growth and self-discovery thrive. Trust in your ability to adapt and evolve, for you possess the resilience needed to navigate uncharted waters.

As you progress in your career, always remember that your passion and purpose are the compass that should guide you. Pursue work that aligns with your values and fulfills your soul. Don't be afraid to explore different paths and take calculated risks. Each experience contributes to your growth and wisdom.

Learning is a lifelong journey, and each lesson learned is a stepping stone to your personal and professional development. Stay committed to your goals, and never underestimate the power of continued learning.

There may be moments of doubt or uncertainty along the way, but listen to your heart's desires and the quiet whispers of your soul, for they will guide you toward your true purpose.

Above all, be patient and compassionate with yourself. Success is not defined by a straight path but by the lessons learned along the way. Embrace each setback as an opportunity to grow stronger and wiser.

Song: Everything Has Changed - Taylor Swift

💌 Pile 2

In matters of the heart, we see the longing in your soul for a deep and meaningful connection. First and foremost, we urge you to be patient with yourself. Love is a delicate dance, and it often takes time to find the right partner who truly understands and appreciates you.

As you seek love, remember the importance of self-love. Nurture your own well-being, both physically and emotionally. Don't be insecure about your quirks and imperfections, for they are the qualities that make you beautifully you. When you love yourself wholeheartedly, you become a magnet for the love you desire.

When it comes to romantic relationships, let go of preconceived notions and allow yourself to be pleasantly surprised. Love can appear in unexpected places and forms. Stay open to meeting new people and exploring connections that may not fit your usual "type." Sometimes, the greatest love stories are the ones that defy expectations.

Communication is the foundation of any healthy relationship. Be brave in expressing your feelings, needs, and desires. Equally important, listen to your partner with an open heart. True intimacy is born from understanding and genuine connection.

Whoever, you're thinking of, is not the one, set the standards high and do not settle for something that does not align with what you can give as well.

Song: Scared - Jeremy Zucker

💌 Pile 3

Know that you are never alone. We are always by your side, watching over you, and guiding you in subtle ways. We see your potential and your inner light, and we are here to help you recognize and nurture these gifts.

Trust in your intuition, for it is the voice of your soul and the channel through which we communicate with you. In times of uncertainty, turn inward and listen to the whispers of your heart, for they will lead you toward your true path.

Embrace the lessons that life presents, for they are opportunities for growth and self-discovery. Challenges are not obstacles but stepping stones on your journey to becoming the best version of yourself.

Surround yourself with positive influences and kindred spirits who uplift and support your journey. Let go of relationships that drain your energy and hinder your growth. Create a circle of love and support that nurtures your soul.

Find joy in the simple pleasures of life. Take time to savor a cup of tea, watch a sunrise, or feel the grass beneath your feet. These moments of presence are where true happiness resides.

Song: July - Noah Cyrus

xoxo

Future Self

💌 Pile 1

Darling, I cannot even start to tell you how good life is right now for me, and eventually for you. I know you are currently going through a rough patch, and as cliche as this sounds, I want you to know that every storm you're weathering now is bringing you closer to the sunshine that awaits you.

In my time, I've seen how the challenges you're facing today have shaped you into the resilient, compassionate, and wise person I've become. The setbacks you're experiencing are not roadblocks; they are stepping stones leading you to the life you've always dreamed of.

You may feel lost, uncertain, and at times overwhelmed, but trust me, these moments are your greatest teachers. They are guiding you towards a deeper understanding of yourself, your purpose, and the incredible strength that lies within you.

One day, you will look back on this period of your life and realize that it was a transformative journey, a cocoon in which you underwent a profound metamorphosis. You'll emerge from it stronger, wiser, and more in tune with your inner self.

The relationships you're nurturing now, the lessons you're learning, and the self-care you're embracing will all become pillars of the beautiful life that awaits you. You'll find yourself surrounded by a supportive and loving community that cherishes you for exactly who you are.

Song: See you Again - Tyler, The Creator

💌 Pile 2

I am sorry, but things are not going the way you would have hoped they would. However, rejection is just redirection, okay? Although things are looking rough for me right now, which, for you, is in the future, I want you to know that this tough phase will lead you to a place of strength and growth.

Life can be incredibly challenging at times, and I wish I could spare you from some of the hardships I'm currently facing. But remember, every setback, every disappointment, is an opportunity for growth and learning. It's through these tough moments that we discover our resilience and develop the wisdom to make better choices in the future.

I want you to hold onto hope, even when it feels like all hope is lost. Believe in yourself and your ability to overcome adversity. Surround yourself with supportive friends and loved ones who will help you weather the storm.

Stay patient and kind to yourself. It's easy to be critical during challenging times, but self-compassion is crucial. Treat yourself with the same love and understanding that you offer to others.

I am working on something thats a dream of ours right now, and I am seeing signs that it may end up succeeding soon or at least kick off, and I still love designing and art as much as you do right now, although I barely have time for myself right now.

Song: Not in that way - Sam Smith

💌 Pile 3

Okay, so maybeee we should reel it in a little with how much you are overworking yourself because it is having a bad effect on me, aka future you. Yep, I'm here to tell you that all those late nights, skipped meals, and stress-induced hair-pulling moments are not doing us any favors down the line.

I get it, you're hustling, chasing dreams, and making things happen in the here and now, and that's commendable. But trust me, I've been there, done that, and I can assure you that I'd appreciate a little less burnout and a lot more balance in our past.

You see, life isn't just about reaching goals; it's about enjoying the journey too. So, let's make a pact to take breaks, breathe deeply, and relish the simple pleasures. Remember, it's not all about the destination; the detours and pit stops are just as important.

And don't worry, I'm not trying to cramp your style here; I just want us to have the best possible adventures together, full of energy, laughter, and great stories. So, let's find that sweet spot where hard work meets self-care, and where the future "us" can look back and be happy about the past "you" for making wise choices.

Also please stop pulling all nighters its not doing any wonders for our skin, and even an extensive 10 step skincare routine does not do as much as a good nights sleep can.

Song: While we're yound - Jhene Aiko

xoxo

[ariesluvz]

PAC: How would a tarot reader describe you to your future spouse and their thoughts

collab w @daninixx

1 2

3 4

. . .

♡ Group 1 ♡

By @ariesluvz

# How would a reader describe you to them?

This person might like hip hop (😂). This person might actually have alot of worries and they might stay up all night thinking about their worries. Their work might take up all their energy and focus. This person is like a chameleon, despite of their condition they are able to work with people and match their energy very well. They are giving me strong business person aura. They have a huge sense of responsibilities. They might had to take care of their own responsibilities as well as others at a very young age that made them very strict towards themselves. Your person also has an artist side to them which they express very well. They might like art by itself. But they are more attracted to different color variations. Yes your person love to portray their mood through different colors. They might do that by playing with their fashion, dying their hair often. They might have colored their hair in a bizarre color. I see neon/pastel pink, mint etc. They might wear beige suits with their crazy hair. Might have beautiful tattoos or piercings. They are very chic and elegant and has a great sense of fashion. Their art might be their fashion. I think your person has a purple aura or surrounds themselves with purple colours. Especially purple neon light. I really think that this person likes bright, saturated and neon colors. Not like they don't like pastels. Y'all know those people who look dangerous by their looks but actually are the most warm hearted people you'll ever meet, your person is like the same. They might love to party. This doesn't mean that they are playboy/girl, spoiled. I think they stay alot of time or spend nights partying outside cuz they are very lonely. They also need warmth and people around them who radiate good energy. If not partying exactly then, they like to keep themselves busy and surrounded by many people. I think they might be very lonely for a long time but still are trying to get use to it. I find a little child in them. Possibly unhealed childhood trauma/inner child. They might be very fond of their friends trying to find warm in them. This may sometimes lead them towards wrong people and heart breaks. This person is like a fragile flower. They tend to fall for people who show just a little bit kindness towards them, maybe cuz they never had that. They never forget even the tiniest kind gesture ever done towards them. They rely on their good memories. They easily forget about the bad things they go through. Awwww group 1, I really love this person as if I wanna protect them and say words of love and appreciation to them. They are very afraid of doing any kind of mistakes. I think thing them doing mistakes is like doing any sin. They put themselves on a pedestal group 1. But nonetheless your person is a very strong and kind soul. They are not afraid to be bold but also vulnerable when needed. I really appreciate and like them.

# Their thoughts?

They will of you as their king/queen. They will be mesmerised by your amazing and so unique personality. They would want to tell you that you are so strong and that you are not alone cuz you got them. They would think of you as a very strong person. Also very fancy, they will think that you have a chic and rich personality. They might feel inferior to you honestly. They will be motivated to do well to match your level. They will kinda fall in love with you at that moment itself lol. They would be at peace knowing about you but also would be very eager to meet you. Their heart would be beating fast af. They will literally on the spot decide to give you alot of love. Does anyone trust 'red string of fate' theme? They honestly kinda do. For them it's like you are their destined fate. They would not really be in the mindset of actually believing it but will end up fantasising about you and your existence. It will all fascinate them alot. Predicting future might be very normal or like popular where they live but they will not be someone who was ever interested or believed. I am also thinking that their friends will be the one who will take them to the reader as an activity. So everything described about you will change their thoughts on/about you. They will be happy to get to know you.

. . .

♡ Group 2 ♡

By @daninixx

# How would a reader describe you to your fs?

This is someone who is flirt and knows how to have fun, your person isn't overly dependent, someone who is passionate about their goals and dreams in order to take achieve them, and will be comfortable about you because they know you are not boring, not too demanding, funny and put a smile on their face even on the worst of days. Someone who is determine to achieve their goals to have a better future for themselves, so maybe they're still studying (student). They can also be an attention seeker, someone who always imagine or day dreaming to be admired by others like i'm getting here that's this person wanted to be singer sort of, someone who talks shit behind their friends(if they have) or someone who likes to make-up stories so they will be admired by others. Someone who likes texts, phone calls and emails — i see that they might like to use discord or snapchat. Your person might have this motto " Do things you've never done before", someone who is making impossible become possible, this person likes adventure or travelling, they might plan or like this idea for their future purposes. Someone who interest of being an extrovert , someone who is elegant, rational, and intelligent. Your person is someone who are attracted to the charm of the enchanting mind. Your person is someone who is calm and has a serious personality, alongside with a unique perception and knowledge of the world, is accentuated by a powerful voice. Someone who will be professional in the field they have or they will going to take, your person will be well educated, so this will finish their bachelor, masteral or degress. Someone who have a good reputation on school or work, but if not this person can be cold and aloof. So yk this person will just be a normal type of student along with no bad records in school, if they're student or when they're still student before. Lol, someone being polite in public, but can be rude to people they know. There's is truly burdened in this person life that doesn't necessary needed, someone who doesn't what to look of what's going on around them, so this person will think that the time for them is running out very fast and quickly. It's like they think this person think they can't keep up with this, even though they really do. No way, you will be happy because this person is on their own phase of growth and healing seems like they're dealing from anxiety or fears from a very long time, this person will gonna start believing about what they can do, about themselves and will trying to move forward for the betterment. So whatever negativity is forcing them to don't do these things they really love since they're afraid of change before, this person will gonna change it and been starting facing them, negative energies will slowly fading away on their side and this person will discover the positive side of things. This person might be water signs on their moon to their chart a high tendency that it will be a pisces moon. Your person qualities, you will find them very attractive since at a very first place or beginning. But honestly, you won't be attracted to this person physical appearance, you will find this person interest of beliefs are way more into unique that somehow can influence you, someone who meets the eye with them also might be somewhat has mysterious aura. This person can also have a psychic powers or just have a hidden talents, this person likes to making plans that will be good for you rather than what suits to people, they will know the answer and the right thing to do with it. I see, you will see this person as lucky charm that will bring positive change in your life. Also, if you will be friend with this person i can't deny that in your relationship there's a lot of ups and downs.

# Their thoughts?

So, this person will think that can they already find the right one that makes them feel calm, someone who will not judge them as a person and can be someone to cry on or lend on to. That they're already reach the peace since they're feel a very strong connection with you, they love your qualities even the negative ones. They will be like "two people can blend together in harmonious way" or someone that have a long lasting love. They love how you view life and they will think that it's quite interesting since they never encounter such someone like you, your person will be having a good feelings for you perhaps that this person doesn't like drama or big displays of connection, but they will think you are out of their league seems they doubts about themselves. They will also feel very inesecure about themselves, they will have this deep and hidden insecurity. Someone who wishes to take care of you after hearing those messages that you'd been through a very tough phase, they wanted to be a provider for you, that kind of someone will look after you. They wanted to see you and love you immediately but they are still not yet ready to face you because of their strong insecurities, they will trying to heal and face these fears before connecting with you.

. . .

♡ Group 3 ♡

# How would a reader describe you to them?

Very charming. They are very classy. Tsundere kind of personality. They were born in a strict household which made their life very much planned or schedule oriented. They might also have OCD. They get anxious and frustrated if something messes up their schedule or work. Pretentious is also something that I'm getting. Not sure if they enjoy their life. They are very much careful about how they portray themselves and their social image. People might not describe them as the most warm hearted person. They might know that and try to maintain a personality that scares away(?) people. They don't show the emotions of love. They show more frustration or determination. They prioritise their job first. They are very much driven by logic. They are not the type of person to get "fixed" I'm sorry if that's like something you are imagining. There's nothing you can do to fix a person. You are just an addiction to their life but don't expect their life to completely shift of change once you meet them. But nonetheless they are very charming. They leave a strong impression on everyone they meet. You will be charmed by them as well. They have an enchanting presence. They definitely have fire dominating their charts. Their aura might be red or lucky color or something. For a woman I see red lipstick might be their favourite. For a man I don't see a colour but their facial structure is very strong or like prominent. High cheekbones, sharp jawline, prominent nose for some it's straight and for some it's a Romanian nose I think. They have an advantage in their looks/appearance which they manage very well. They remind be of those very masculine guys in Taylor Swift's songs. If woman, then probably taller bone structure lean and slim. They have ectomorph body structure. They are success oriented. I think they take everything as a deal which should be profitable for them in some way. They crave stability. They give very stereotypical Capricorn vibes. If they have a childhood trauma that might be around their home life. They might have felt very different and has now embraced the theme very well that they feel unsafe or vulnerable or weak to not be different from others. They see that being different is a powerful thing. They want people to respect them and to have a certain position in the society. These things are their moral values. You can call them selfish and I won't correct you on that. Everyone is selfish but they are very openly selfish. They are living their best life to be honest. They are very hardworking in whichever field they are in and probably one of the best in their field. And they live their life very unapologetically. They respect their parents alot. They are sensitive about their family and personal life which they prefer to keep very hidden or secret because that is only one thing they are emotionally attached to. They try their best to keep their family safe.

# Their thoughts?

Ok so you might be very different from them. Like your vibe, aura or aesthetic might be different from them. You just have a different pov on life in general and take things differently than them. They are mesmerized by this trait of yours. If makes you mysterious to them even if you don't think you are the mysterious type of person. They kinda feel very calm and happy and delighted whenever they see you or think about you. Because you are different from the environment they usually are in l, they take a lot of interest in knowing you and love the time you spend together. They take a lot of pride in you for some reason. Like when they will know about you through a 3rd party they will be like "yeah that's my girl/man". You are very beautiful in their eyes and maybe that's why they are so proud of the fact that you are their person. I get yin and yang energy. I feel like that's exactly what they are searching for as well. They want their partner to be like their other half, a part of them. This kind of thought makes them happy and satisfied. I already told you that they give me 90s vibes. So they are also very traditional and they do follow certain believes and think that some things are better in traditional way. Ok I see a red lehenga, it's an Indian attire that brides usually wear for their wedding so yeah they definitely picture you guys' wedding together lol.

. . .

♡ Group 4 ♡

By @daninixx

# How would a reader describe you to them?

Pile 4, this is a secret i accidentally pulled one more card for you so maybe my guides wanted you to have more messages. So to start this person is someone who can be a bully or the trouble is always on their side even though they don't do nothing wrong. Someone who will see your dark side and will try to get ride of it away from you, someone that is type of person "winning at all cost!", someone who have an internal conflict and inner anger but this person will fear to openly or express them of how they feel definitely this person has anxiety or depression. This person is someone who is doesn't have a filter and say what they wanted to say in his or her mind. If this person wanted to settle in a relationship they want it to be passionate, somehow this person is not yet ready for any commitments as of now seems like this person is just like the idea of being in love but don't want to be in a relationship as of now because their fantasies to "happily ever after" and healthy and fullfilling relationship, they afraid that they might end up to a wrong person and toxic one. This person is bubbly, upbeat and wholesome, woah another card confirm that this person is really "dreamy" and "airy-fairy" might be a little kook too. This person might dress like a tomboy, may have a high levels of stress. Someone who is very faithful so they tend to be trustworthy and family-oriented, the communication with will be easy for each other. The relationship with them will be friends to lovers, someone who is physically attractive and always taking care of how they look or presenting themselves. This person is probably still studying and still the progress of towards their goals, someone who is practical and following rules. Someone you can consider as charming, gentle, and sensitive, as well as fearsome and powerful. In short, this person is ✨awesome✨. They might appear to have a solid strategy and know where they going; however, this person may appear arrogant and opinionated at times. This person might be afraid to show their real thoughts however they're fearless when it comes achieving success and victory, someone who will use their will power to achieve their goals, they might own a vehicle most likey a car or a motorbike. Someone who will looking or finding their own interest and what they really wanted to be in life. They need to get out in their comfort zone since i see here they really love home or to stay at home ; if they do nothing, nothing will be moving too or everything will out of their control because success is already waiting for them they just need to claim it, and if would failed to do that they will be dissapointed for the chances. This is someone who is kind and understanding, this person is talented and creative but somehow there is something stopping them to show them off, they're overthinker. Someone they love might loss to them, it's female figure can also be grandparents or this also indicates of end of their struggles will going to come. You might meet this person through social media, i'm not really sure if this person has a family member that working to government or an authority figure seems like this person is just died recently.

# Their thoughts?

So they will feel confident about you, they will be more fallen in love with you right now, you will be someone whom capable to enjoys their company. They will also think that this connection needs more understanding before jumping or trusting their guts, so they ask you to wait and give them some space to think for it, they might feel emotionally disconnected with it and needs time to resolve it. They want you to be communicating with them with honesty and integrity, this person think you are allowing your emotions to take control of your life. Also, they feel sadness and loneliness for what you've been through, they think it's right for you to get out your comfort zone and start enjoying and doing a better lifestyle, You might be focusing on your innermost feelings, therefore they want you to withdrawing from the real world, that you need accept the situation and work on your well-being. They're someone that enjoy their flow of your emotions, and this type of person will bring balance and harmony in your life because they feel the same wavelength before. In addition, someone who they think needs acceptance of the situation, they wants to motivate you, they know this is hard for you but you need it. It is time to speak up and move about what is needed or desired before getting everything is too late. Your person think you are like a precious thing to take care of, a breakable glass. Totally they wanted to meet you and love you unconditionally but they know you need more growth and healings, so they telling you take your time to take care of yourself since you are unbeatable and unstoppable, they also like the that you are family oriented type of person that can take care of them and your future kids. They also imagine to making you a morning breakfast in bed and see your morning face like even your feeling ugly they want you to don't feel ugly to yourself 'cause you'd beauty , honestly you feel confident with this person.

[eldritch-nightmare]

do they have deal breakers?

a/n: idk i just thought this would be an interesting thing to write.

synopsis: what are some deal breakers for them? what can they not tolerate?

includes: slenderman, jeff the killer, eyeless jack, laughing jack, jane the killer, nina the killer, the bloody painter, candy pop, the doll maker, jason the toymaker, dr smiley, nurse ann, the puppeteer, clockwork, zalgo, hobo heart, ticci toby, zero, kagekao, nathan the nobody, homicidal liu + sully, tim wright, brian thomas, jay merrick, jessica locke, and alex kralie.

SLENDERMAN doesn't have a lot of deal breakers, to be quite honest. it doesn't have any preferences when it comes to romance. i suppose if it had to pick something, it would say that it would rather avoid dating people with a disdain towards nature. it literally lives in nature, so... it would also probably avoid people who have children in their life, be it a parent or a teacher.

JEFF THE KILLER has a two off the top of his head. firstly, he will never date a Fangirl capital 'F'. if he even gets the slightest inkling that someone might be a fan of his, it's an immediate no and that person very well may lose their life. and secondly, he refuses to date anyone who hates his brother. yeah, he and liu don't get along and liu wants him dead but in his mind, liu is still the most important person in jeff's life. people who commit arson are on thin fucking ice.

EYELESS JACK is fairly lax when it comes to 'deal breakers'. he doesn't have anything he dislikes, and there isn't any type of behavior that he necessarily avoids either. people who aren't fond of cannibalism would be difficult to date, he supposes. he doesn't really like people who may try keeping his as a pet either. and... maybe people who are in cults...

LAUGHING JACK is one sick and twisted bastard so deal breakers are very unlikely. realistically, his partner being around kids should probably be a deal breaker but that's... literally the only way to meet him. he's incredibly complex so he really won't know his own deal breakers until he's like... in the situation, y'know?

JANE THE KILLER has one immediate deal breaker. if you like jeff the killer, she immediately feels immense disdain toward you and she will never even acknowledge your existence, not unless she's forced to. jane richardson is also lesbian, so men are an immediate no.

NINA THE KILLER has one immediate deal breaker as well. if you dislike jeff the killer, she will not get along with you. she and jeff have a love-hate relationship but at the end of the day, he's still her idol and she looks up to him a lot, so.

THE BLOODY PAINTER barely interacts with people to really know if he has any deal breakers. perhaps people who dislike art? though, he can't really fault someone for not seeing the beauty held within the multitudes of art all around the world.

CANDY POP isn't the biggest fan of people he deems to be annoying or boring. now, i know what you're thinking, candy pop literally finds joy in annoying people, so wouldn't he be delighted to have a partner who behaves the same way? absolutely not. he likes to be the one terrorizing people; he does not want to be terrorized.

THE DOLL MAKER is immediately hesitant around older men, so if you are a guy and you're older than him then just know he'll avoid you like the plague. also, due to his pyrophobia, arsonists and people fascinated by fire get an immediate no from him. anyone who may poke fun at the dolls he creates aren't welcome either, and he'll probably end up turning them into a doll.

JASON THE TOYMAKER has one goal only and it is to find 'the one for him' so like... not many deal breakers here. just fall in love with him and never ever reject him and everything will be good! you'll be turned into a wax doll, otherwise, and that's a terrible fate to suffer.

DR SMILEY also rarely interacts with people, though he's not the biggest fan of people who so desperately cling to life and believe that death is something to be afraid of.

NURSE ANN just doesn't like people in general and only has like... three people she enjoys being around so the likelihood of her growing to like someone is small. that being said, something that immediately makes her dislike a person is when they mock her for not speaking often.

THE PUPPETEER has major disdain for people he cannot control. unless he's already grown attached to (ex. emra) or reliant on them (ex. zachary), then disobedience is not something he can tolerate. he's also not the biggest fan of super-duper cheerful people, though that's only because it makes killing them harder.

CLOCKWORK by default cannot stand anyone who reminds her of her past. she wants nothing more than to forget the pain and hell she went through, so to find a person who reminds her of all that trauma? yeah, no, they gotta go.

ZALGO literally hates everything and everyone but on the very slight chance that someone manages to worm their way into the essence of his being, then so long as they don't mind humanity's downfall then they're fine. bonus points if they're good with kids because holy shit he doesn't know how to be a dad. and if they dislike kids then like... that's fine, i guess, but he'll be a bit bitter.

HOBO HEART is fairly hesitant when it comes to love. the one time he fell in love, she threw his heart away. he's hesitant to fall in love again, but he could never fall for anyone who would so willingly leave him behind. he's not the biggest fan of liars either. simply put, he could never love someone who doesn't value their own heart.

TICCI TOBY already keeps people at a distance, but it's an immediate deal breaker when someone starts making fun of him. if someone makes a bad comment about lyra or his mother, then that's also an immediate no. anyone who heavily drinks alcohol is a no. anyone who 'teases' him about his tourette's is a no. anyone who doesn't take his CIPA seriously is a no.

ZERO could never be in a relationship with someone with the mindset of 'i can fix her' because she doesn't need to be fixed. honestly, you should consider yourself lucky that she's somehow managed to grow an attachment to you considering her disregard for everyone around her. do something to make her hate you and you'll regret it.

KAGEKAO is gay, first and foremost, so if you're a woman then it just won't work out. he's fluent in english as well so you don't necessarily have to know japanese, though he'd love for you to learn. people who make comments about his wine habits or tell him to cut back on drinking wine will be disposed of immediately. he also isn't fond of boring people.

NATHAN THE NOBODY tends to believe that most people are in the organization that took away his sister, so by default, it's an immediate no if he comes to believe that someone is in the organization. he can't come to terms with his sister's death, so he'll get rid of anyone who tries to make him see that she's dead.

HOMICIDAL LIU hardly ever gives romance any thought because he's so caught up in his goal of trying to kill jeff that it rarely ever crosses his mind, so deal breakers aren't something he's given much thought. people who aren't fond of arson probably won't like liu, so they're a no. anyone who thinks he should forgive jeff is an immediate no. anyone who is a fangirl of jeff or idolizes him the way nina does is also an immediate no. people who aren't fond of smoking most certainly won't like him so they're also a no. anyone who sees no harm in mocking and bullying other people is a no.

SULLY has deal breakers relatively similar to liu. if you're a jeff groupie then he honestly wants nothing to do with you. if you are a threat to liu in any way shape or form, then he's already planning a way to dispose of you. other than that, he's pretty laid back with this sort of stuff.

TIM WRIGHT has a habit of smoking so people who can't stand the smell of cigarette smoke should probably avoid him. he isn't close to a lot of people so when someone betrays his trust, it really hits him hard so people with a habit of lying are an immediate no.

BRIAN THOMAS is a bros before hoes sorta guy in the sense that if his partner doesn't like his friends then suddenly he doesn't have a partner anymore. he can't date someone who dislikes the people he's closest to, it just doesn't work that way. especially if they dislike tim, like... that's his best friend there, dude.

JAY MERRICK is a gay man so if you are a woman, then... yeah. it won't work. you stand no chance with jay if you don't believe him when he tells you that something is seriously wrong. he doesn't like people who avoid telling him about an issue because it stresses him out a lot so he would rather prefer people who can openly tell him if something is wrong.

JESSICA LOCKE is lesbian, so men simply just do not have a chance with her. she doesn't really have many deal breakers though, to be honest. at least none that come to the top of her head. she'd probably have to experience something to decide whether or not that's a deal breaker for her, y'know?

ALEX KRALIE is like... deeply unhinged in every way possible and will try killing his partner no matter what, so. let's just use the alex before all the operator stuff happened! he can't be with anyone who doesn't support him or his passion project, marble hornets. and in the midst of marble hornets, he will try to kill his partner. there's no avoiding that. he, himself, is a deal breaker, gotta be honest here.

[signedeclipse]

Signed with Love - Upper Moons

What is this? - A valentines gift to my lovely fem!readers! Its valentines/love letters cards from your favourites <3

Characters - Akaza | Daki | Douma | Gyokko | Gyutaro | Hantengu | Kaigaku | Kokushibo | Muzan | Nakime

Series Parts Kamaboko Squad - HERE The Hashira - HERE

Akaza

To the girl of my dreams, Happy valentines! I'm sure you thought i'd forget sorry about last year, but I've got plans and everything. Theres a light show in the city, if you want to come I'm sure we can stop for some snacks and i'll get you the best view of them. If that sounds like a plan, i'll be by your house the moment the sun goes down. Can't wait to see you dolled up, Akaza.

Daki

Dove, Free your schedule on the 14th, I won't let plans get in the way of us spending this year together after so many times of it falling through! Oiron duties always take precedent, but I'm sure I can pull some strings to spend the night with you, the "new" girl, to do some "training". Dress for the part, I know you can lie your way in. Good luck, even if I know you won't need it, 'Warabihime'

Douma

Hello, lovely! I am over the moon knowing i'll get to spend valentines with you again! I miss you more and more every day you are away... How about this year we sneak away from the cult and I show you someplace you might really enjoy, and we can pick up some treats you like to keep at the estate! Don't leave me waiting too long. You know who ♡

Gyokko

To my precious muse, This velentines marks a decade together, and I figure its about time I let you closer than ive let any other. I know I can be more conservative in sharing my art, but this year i'd like to take you into my studio and teach you some of my craft. You know where to find me. Wear something you don't mind having ruined. Gყσƙƙσ

Gyutaro

Angel, I promised i'd always ask, so I expect you to say yes when I ask you to be my valentine again. It's too risky to go out with being on the radar, so when you come back home keep low and we'll do something simple. I can't risk getting you in trouble. Don't stray too far, GT.

Hantengu

Dearest, If possible, I would really appreciate if maybe you might consider being my valentine Whatever you'd like is yours Please H/S/K/A/Uro/Z/Ura

Kaigaku

Princess, I know you'll say yes anyways, so instead ill congradulate you for keeping me intrigued for so long. Long enough to call you my valentine. I'll be home to see you the moment the sun drops, and we can spend all night hanging out. I like you better where no one else can chew on you like eye candy, so I'll bring some snacks you like if it keeps you inside, Don't get too flattered, Yours, Inadama

Kokushibo

To the most beautiful woman I know, I would be honoured if you would decide to be my valentine once again. If you are inclined to accept my invintation, know that not a drop of the night would be wasted on anything you wouldn't like. You know you can trust me. I anticipate your responce, 黒死牟

Muzan

To the only sunshine I require; With this letter is a box of clothing. It's all custom to your fit and yours now, pick whatever you like and wait outside the gates of tokyo by sundown tonight. We'll be visitng some places I know you've wanted to see, and I'll make sure it's not on an empty stomach. Don't leave me waiting, M. Kibutsuji

Nakime

My dearest lullaby I am not one to partake in holidays, however, I cannot help myself when it comes to you. I was hoping you would be my valentine; not just today, but in life as well. There is a concert hall I used to perform at, and I would like to bring you there to hear the music I was so very fond of. It is very formal, so if you need any help getting ready you have my assistance. I miss your sweet song, Nakime Otokawa

Authors Note - This took me so long ahhhh thank you for your patience darlings <3 The tags took me longer than writing this entire thing /j

Disclaimer - All characters within have been aged up to at least 18 or older, and have been altered to reflect such change as needed.

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Trey Clover - Platinum Jacket Voice Lines

When Summoned: Never expected I'd ever end up an art museum supporter... I'll do my best to tout the beautiful art.

Summon Line: An art museum, hm... This is a good opportunity to train up my imagination. Alright, I'm going to take a look at everything I can.

Groooovy!!: A cat that can turn invisible, huh. Ooh, maybe it's right behind you even now～ Just kidding.

Home: Celebrating the 100th anniversary is pretty amazing.

Home Idle 1: I'm not terrible at designing cakes, but drawing is a whole different matter... Even if they both require the use of imagination.

Home Idle 2: Cater told me to go on ahead, because he just couldn't get the angle right on a photo he wanted to take... How he can keep up with that for each photo, I'll never know.

Home Idle 3: I think I should be able to recreate the cake that was in the picture with the Queen of Hearts... I'll use mousse for the base, and add meringue on top... Hm...

Home Idle - Login: With all these exhibits, what's the best route to take to view them all? ...Well, I guess I'll just have to start heading towards the exit and view them all in that order.

Home Idle - Groovy: I was pretty impressed that even though we were looking at the same painting, Leona was capable of thinking on the actual story it might have been trying to tell. Art appreciation goes deeper than I thought.

Home Tap 1: Azul shared with me an anecdote about the Sea Witch that I had never heard of before. It's very cool to see the difference in which stories get told on the surface and under the sea.

Home Tap 2: Idia was checking out a painting of the Lord of the Underworld, but I don't think I've ever seen him be that focused before... He must have really liked it.

Home Tap 3: The shop had some toothpicks made to look like the card soldiers' spears. Might look good to decorate the dishes for our parties, so I think I'll buy some.

Home Tap 4: So, the magic lamp only grants three wishes, huh. I feel like even if I got my hands on it, I'd just end up asking for something worthless.

Home Tap 5: I can't help but be a little stiff wearing formal attire like this. ...It suits me? Well, that's good, at least... Thanks for the compliment.

Home Tap - Groovy: Did you find a painting you liked? You'll have to tell me later which one was your favorite.

Duo: [TREY]: I'm counting on you, Leona. [LEONA]: You owe me one, Trey.

Birthday Login Message: Thanks for celebrating my birthday. But I have to say, I wasn't expecting you to have my gift delivered to my dorm like that. You should have just handed it to me directly, since we were meeting up, anyway. Was I shocked? Well, yes... Ah, so it was supposed to be a surprise present! Haha, oh man. You're always finding ways to startle me.

Requested by Anonymous.

[bethanyberg]

So I've been job hunting the past few weeks in my city for something basic and desk job like because, well, the art world is on fire right now and there's no work to be found anywhere... but good god job hunting locally has turned into such a nightmare of an ordeal I don't know where to begin. Half the places just ghost you. All of them demand you take five different quizzes and tests and assessments before proceeding. Most of them have terrible pay and I've already run into several scams. Actually getting an interview is still a brutal process of baring your whole existence in front of someone and hoping they find it suitable because you'll never hear why they didn't pick you... you'll never hear anything... you'll just wait for several weeks in silence and assume they must have filled the role and then wonder why you even bothered to wait for them. I feel so dehumanized and exhausted and drained to an empty husk.

Anyway if you want to throw a few dollars at my ko-fi page so I can maybe buy some dinner or better makeup (because god forbid we don't ask ascribe to Western beauty standards) I would be so eternally grateful

[mikodrawnnarratives]

I just remembered a project I worked on for a while in like 2021 (maybe 2020) and it had a LOT of akumatized marinette's

That was the idea behind the whole thing but man I did one by one and found some of the most obscure akumatized marinette au's

Sooooo I'm dragging these drawings up from the ashes and maybe it'll be a nice surprise for some of y'all to see

yall got ✨fanart✨

and possibly reminded of miraculous ladybug HA

usually these were done on different canvas's (that were like 250x250) and then just... copied onto a larger canvas??? Mistakes were made and I was insane

A handful of these akumanette's were actually made by me cause apparently... roughly 18 other marinette's wasn't enough

Click for quality and this is a long post

First of all, shoutouts to my own akuma abominations creations.

First image, the ladybug with the red long hair? yeah the idea was the akuma bug seen in canon in like, s2 (also shown next to her) but updated for the new look in s4. Vry original we'll give it a 6/10

I don't remember too much for the middle one that is slightly dimmer. Though I do remember that was the kind of IDEA behind her. She's also holding a knife cause of course. Why have magical powers to kill people when you can harness the power of K N I F E 7/10

I remember a little more about the jester marinette in the back. She had a whole thing with medieval research, jester research, and she also wanted to stab Lila cause everyone wanted to stab lila at the time. 9/10 cause I had a fun time with her

Then the robinhood poster mari was a robin hood akuma mari. 3/10 not original

NEXT

Slightly canon to downright canon

Ladyblanc was a popular akumanette idea so slightly canon, I didn't base it off of anyone's au

Ladybug and Marinette are there because what's the fun of a crossover if the og doesn't get to panic along with the rest of them????

Last image, not talking about persecuter, we'll get to her in a bit. I just thought it would be funny at the time if I included Chloe and Antibug cause... haha

Antibug is kinda an akumatized lb rip off soooo

OTHER'S AU'S

what you've been waiting for

Thank god I kept track of credit (pats past me on the back)

First of all, at the very front we got @zoe-oneesama 's devil au that made an updated appearance in her scarlet lady au, love to see it

You'll also notice little devil bug on lb's knee in the sketch

Alopeka is to the left of Devil au, by @piearsonist

hi betcha you never would have guessed you got FANARTED HA

This is a post that explains that akumatized marinette, and you'll find more if you go to her page

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAND

Princess justice at the right by @kibouwmlb (also, hello hi, surprise) and honestly it is SUCH a pretty design OMYWORD I love the watercolors

Twiddling her thumbs, minding her business. Remember the release of Descendants 3? Yeah, Queen of Mean baby. And MORE by @shiinaeu hi you are a legend to me

This was so fun to draw at the time and I was experimenting in ways I hadn't before. Peak youtube miraculous ladybug fixation meeting art interest. First one of the characters I did fun fact

@edendaphne betcha you didn't expect fanart of that one scorpion akumanette well THINK AGAIN (also, crazy that this was around when I did your dtiys I just realized, huh)

ANd then slightly more obscure, though the post does have 173 ish notes so, is @skullqueensart 's akumanette right here

Why does akumanette have sunken cheeks here? I have no clue honestly. Take it up with me from 3 years ago and maybe you'll get answers who knows. She's also just... chilling. Looking at nothing. Into the abyss.

Not now chloe's, we are discussing persecutor now.

Love the story idea honestly and the akuma design is so god tier AKUMA that oof @yiprincessart I love it

Oh uh, and chloe will be fine

:)

CAN👏I👏 TALK👏 ABOUT👏 HER

She is the moment, she is beauty, she is grace

@artist-from-outersp-ace I love her. She looks so SO pretty!! At the time I loved your artstyle and I still do!! Too bad at the time I didn't know that Tumblr works by reblogging. I will be amending that.

I also remember being SO frustrated when drawing her that I didn't get a timelapse saved in time to show the drawing process :(

But I did love figuring out folds in the dress and the coloring process! Figuring out how to replicate elements in your art!

srs guys. Look at the RUFFLES

Alright, we are all agreeing to be accomplices and bystanders to Akuma jester marinette's NOT MURDER murder of Lila in the background? Okay good.

@lunian I have fanart for you~

And when I tell you I struggled with her design, I STRUGGLED. I ended up satisfied in the end but the curls bro, we lost the curls

But I do love her concepts and powers and I did back then too

And next to her, Okay, I never fully finished, mostly because I couldn't figure out how to get the hand to work with the tray balance thingie

@ladybub made this Lady Justice design and I WILL BE THERE when the comic updates. Or... if they aren't able to continue the comic that's also fine too <3 Life happens

Still love this au and the unique way for Marinette to get akumatized! Me and my sister bonded over our love over it!

I think this might be the first akumanette that isn't on tumblr to my knowledge. They are on Instagram tho @stivenwithani

Anyway I really liked the concept and the design just, reeked, of akuma that I included her

Okay more that I didn't really finish

We got another Princess/Lady Justice akuma idea at the left. Which I never kept track of the credit DANG IT I WAS DOING SO WELL

I'll update if I find the credit but man the OG did really well with the art.

And I have this akumanette comforting Lacrima from... a very graphic and whump fanfic Longest Night, read the tags

Anyway, Lacrima needs all the love she can get (also, funny enough, is the oldest out of this "gathering" of akumanette's)

It's not finished but hey @p-artsypants I gave angst ridden Lady Lacrima friends and fanart so.... yay...

AND THEN THE LAST ONE

was victim to so much reposting I could never find credit for it- UNTIL NOW

but the artist unfortunately deactivated their blog so that explains why I couldn't find their username all that time ago

It was a cool idea and I always love when creators take inspiration from how similar Marinette's name is to another word for a kind of puppet "Marionette"

But before I forget, I'll end this post on one of my akumanette's that I tried to squeeze in but never got to. But I did make more art for and I remember the story!

I remember having a background planned but I never really got around to it. Basically the story was that marinette got akumatized but managed to take off her earrings in time. I think the reason for her akumatization was connected to figuring out the secrets that Emilie had been hiding with the peacock miraculous (BEFORE we knew that adrien was a sentimonster).

Tikki had to bring the earrings to Chat Noir and he had to find someone that looked ENOUGH like Ladybug that Hawkmoth wouldn't notice as much that Ladybug wasn't actually there. Enter Mireille cause at the time a few people were pointing out how similar she looked to the dupain chengs.

Akumanette's powers had something to do with casting depression? I think? In the form of dragons? Oh, Also she travels by walking on the dragons so thats cool

I don't remember everything but I did have a lot planned for her.

10/10 just because I had a fun time with her

[silusvesuius]

WHAT IS UR INSPIRATION FOR COLORS .............. do u have any specific things you focus on while coloring or is it a fuck around and find out kind of deal. im never NOT in awe of your beautiful and interesting color combos when your art comes on my dash, SO SO COOL!! thank you sm

thank you Too, i appreciate it 🧡💗 this is what i could squeeze out of my brain at the moment, as usual, general understanding of color theory really helps. now it seems i only operate on 'i like these colors' so i don't think i follow actual logic when coloring, but maybe you'll see it, i don't though. my color choices will probably change sooner or later so we'll see what happens. also talked abt colors back in june in dis post so maybe it'll be useful as well

helpful (?) autopsy performed on my art

[chronicbeans]

Wally Darling with a Restoration Project Reader (part 8)

Yippee- No nightmares! New friends!

TW: Disappearances, Mentions of Nightmares, Mentions of Vomiting, Mentions of Possible Hallucinations, Minor Scopophobia/Eye Imagery

🗞️ You wake up the next morning, happy to find that you didn't have any nightmares. However, your cellphone is blowing up. Looking at it, you find a few texts in the group chat. Amy is complaining about having horrible nightmares, Finn is informing everyone that Daniel has been "vomiting his guts out". Daniel's only text has been "God help me, why can't I drink water? I'm going to the ER, see y'all when I get out." which was sent at 3 in the morning.

🗞️ You meet up with Finn and Amy at the playground. You have one of the letters with cursive handwriting on it, alongside the "Painting in the Dark" tape hidden in your coat pocket. Finn and Amy have their own respective letters. Amy is the first to speak "I hope Daniel will get better. I called him last night, after I had the nightmare... He kept mentioning that his windows had eyes. I think something is seriously wrong." You all nod in agreement. You ask Amy "Do you want to talk about your nightmare?" "No..."

🗞️ Everyone is silent, again, before you tell them that you are going to go around and ask people about the letter. With that, you leave. Walking along the streets, you ask everyone you bump into about the letter and handwriting. A few seem to have a reaction, but don't give you an answer. Most, however, just shake their heads.

🗞️ One person, though, grins happily. She's a woman with a beautiful yellowish gold tie, as well as a very professional style of dress. "Oh! That looks like the handwriting of one of the two Dorelaine brothers! They went missing a long time ago... However, some of their family lives here, still. Right up there, in that large manor, on the hill." She points to the hill, and sure enough, there is a large manor on top of it. She continues "I know them, so I can get you in. They will be happy to see you have something like that."

🗞️ You grin, quickly texting your group that you have gotten a hit, before following the woman. You make it to the large gates, where the woman quickly talks to the security about what you have. Shockingly enough, that was all you needed to get in. The lady stands outside to make a quick call, telling you to just go up to the front doors and knock.

🗞️You do so, knocking on the large, dark oak doors. Suns and Moons are carved into the wood, with hourglasses scattered here and there across the pattern. A young man opens the door, his eyes large and full of hope. "Do you have the letter? Can I see it?"

🗞️ You quickly explain "I have the envelope. I didn't bring the letter, because it was just concept art for the show Welcome Home. I could go grab it if you want-" He cuts you off "No! No! Just show me the envelope, then." You pass it to him, watching as he stares at it with fascination.

🗞️"The handwriting is just like my great-uncle, William. He was very involved in Welcome Home. His brother, Ronald, my other great-uncle, created the show. They both went missing... First, Ronald. Years later, William went missing. We've asked the police numerous times to reopen their cases, but they say it's a cold one. I am so happy you found this! Maybe you could help us. One second!"

🗞️ Before you can speak, telling him that you are not interested in helping, he turns around and shouts "MAMA! IT'S TRUE! COME LOOK AT THIS!"

🗞️ There is a shuffling as an old lady comes into view. She is using a walker to help her move, her feet shuffling against the floor quickly, as if in a hurry to see what you have found. She adjusts her spectacles, looking at the envelope. "My word! That IS uncle William's handwriting!" She then looks at you "The lady said your friend had this mailed to him... Please, come in! I'll answer any question you have, just... Promise you'll help us figure out what happened to my uncles..."

🗞️ As much as you want to say no... your heart breaks for the old lady. She sounds so hopeful, like she has been disappointed time and time again, and you are her last hope. You nod, saying "All I ask is that you let me ask about the show they worked on. We are trying to revive interest in it." She nods, her feeble voice saying "Of course... That would be a cherry on top of finding them. That show was their passion. They'll live on through that show..."

🗞️ You follow the two inside, amazed by how large the place is. Everything looks so expensive. A lot of gold, blue, and silver. You are led to a large table, a little statue of Home in the center. The old lady introduces herself "I am Lindsey Dorelaine. This is my son, Edward Dorelaine." Edward grins, waving. You wave back, an awkward smile on your face.

🗞️"So... I want to know anything you can tell me about Welcome Home. I can see that you have some memorabilia of it." You gesture to the little statue. Edward nods "Okay. Well, Ronald came up with the idea alongside his friend, Caesar Jones. Caesar came up with Wally. After a party celebrating how Welcome Home got a broadcasting deal with one of the same channels as one of the shows Jim Henson was on, Ronald went missing. Then, William took over, made a few changes, and... That's all I know. What about you, Mama? You know a lot, since you were alive when William was around."

🗞️ Lindsey is silent for a moment, before speaking very softly. "I saw the studio, once. There were Suns and Moons painted on the walls. William's office was filled with clocks. He even had his own two fire hatchets. One had a Sun and the other a Moon on it. I even got to meet ol' Caesar. At that point, his hands couldn't move as well as before, so another person puppeteered while he voiced good ol' Wally Darling. The Playfellow Workshop is still standing, you know? Locked up and rotting, but still standing. Eddie, why don't you show our guest William's room? We've kept it locked up to preserve it."

🗞️ Your eyes widen as Edward stands. He nods, then holds his hand out for you "Come on. I'm sure we'll find more about Welcome Home in there. It will even give you some more info about William, so you can start your search for him, too." You take his hand, letting him lead you further into the manor. In the very back, on the third floor, there is a faded yellow door. Edward takes out a key, unlocking it, then pushing it open.

🗞️ With a loud creak of the rusted hinges, the dark room is revealed to you. Baby blue walls, clocks everywhere, a large bed... there are countless bookshelves and drawers, alongside an old writing desk. Edward flicks on the light, which flickers slightly before glowing gently. Pictures of Wally Darling hang on the walls, their eyes staring blankly ahead. Most of the Wally pictures are framed, with things such as "He's the Most" or "Puppet of the Month" written in gold letters underneath the picture. There are a couple pictures of Barnaby, too, but most of them have had their eyes scratched out for some unknown reason, and are simply hung up with thumbtacks.

🗞️ The last thing Edward says before leaving is "Take a look around. Take what you think could be useful for your investigation, both for Welcome Home and my great-uncles. Just let us know what you take before you leave. You can call your friends to help, if you like."

[famwhy]

If you'll allow me to make Dazai suffer, I'd like to share some brain rot I had after reading Realization.

Say Mori does reassign you to Chuuya, with the promise that he'll send you back to Osamu if things don't work out (he only really said that to stop Osamu from throwing a fit.) Chuuya's training is intense but he's very respectful otherwise and your performance rapidly improves. The first time Chuuya genuinely praises you for landing a kick on him during martial arts training you know you're never going back to Osamu. Osamu doesn't realize it until a month later though, when you manage to yank an enemy organization's helicopter out of the sky with your chains. As soon as word gets out of you accomplishment, it becomes crystal clear that Osamu was holding you back so it's impossible for him to get other PM members to side with him on this issue.

Eventually he leaves the mafia, joins the ADA, etc. Years later, while chained up in the mafia's base, he's visited by Chuuya, who's all too eager to knock him around. When Osamu asks if you'll be paying him a visit as well, Chuuya bursts out laughing before telling him no, you're currently on leave, so you will not be seeing your ex.

"On leave?!" Osamu says.

"Of course! She's expecting our first! Mafia work and pregnancy don't mix well, after all."

This is a really short one, sorry.

Warning: quite a lot of gore.

Dazai's teeth grinded against one another, fury seeping through him at the thought of you and Chuuya (Chuuya of all people!) having a kid together.

Did what you had with him mean nothing to you?

Ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!

Red, hot anger flowed through his veins, causing them to bulge out and pulse violently.

He just wanted to break the chains keeping him held up and sock the stupid, little midget in the face for taking what was his. He wanted to rip his lips off for ever tainting your beautiful body with them. He wanted to claw his fucking eyes out for ever even looking at you.

However, it wasn't just Chuuya that Dazai wished to inflict pain on - no. There was also you. He couldn't overlook your involvement in this any longer; couldn't ignore the fact that you chose Chuuya over him. You needed to be punished too.

He wouldn't hurt you, of course. He would never.

Or well, not physically at least. Mentally? He didn't mind.

Maybe he could tie you up and force you to watch as he ripped up your lover limb from limb before your very eyes.

Oh, he could imagine the tears that would stream down your face as you screamed and begged him to leave the other male alone.

The thought filled him with ecstasy.

But... he reminded himself to not lose his composure.

If there was one thing Osamu Dazai was capable of, it was patience.

He could wait.

He would wait; for as long as it took for him to be able to find the perfect opportunity to leap into action and finally have you in his arms once more.

Like he was about to lose to Chuuya.

All in due time, sweetheart, all in due time.

[thefaiao]

What are your inspirations for drawing? Like other artists or things

I'll start with my biggest inspiration, which got me into art as a whole: Adam Adamowicz. I got introduced to him through Skyrim concept art, but I honestly think his Shivering Isles concepts are some of the best concept art out there. You can see how much he just takes an idea and completely sores with it. A torrential stream of beautiful sketchy goodness.

I love Oblivion's flat ass dough faces and early Xbox 360 charm, but this shit is simply crazy. Look at this, it makes you wish to dedicate your life to bringing this to life, as all good concept art should. It inspires more of itself.

I could post all the images there are out there, because I sincerely think this is the type of work that has stuck with me the most. It's something to strive for. You can see it for yourself instead. That was what got me started. After that, and through my journey on Tumblr and Twitter, I think what stuck to me the most was the art done by small artists, my "compatriots". The things you don't see. There is so much love in little things, and maybe in another universe there are entire cultures dedicated to them. I wish we had time to explore each and every one of the smallest pieces of media, especially narrative media, weird media.

I'll concede that it's a bit of an abstract thing to be inspired by, but once you realise how much work goes into the smallest of things, I believe you'll find inspiration anywhere you go. I think the reason why my Batter drawings are the way they are is my inspiration from just the design of letters and fonts in general. I think making something that blurs the line of symbol and representation over and over is fun.

One artist that has stuck with me is the late great Gunner Leatherwood. He passed away earlier this year. I watched this guy grow from a hundred followers to thousands. I saw his art improve. I think that inspiration transcends just the visual aspect of the art. It's a story, a lived experience, as all art is, but I felt I understood it much more. I think going after and following these small artists pay off because of this. Everyone can make something truly great, and some people have and no one noticed. Many amazing animated movies have been made, but never got to the people who would understand them, who'd have dedicated themselves to easing other people into it. We like to think we understand media in a completely intuitive, isolated fashion, but it's not true at all. Our shared experience contributes to classics being recognised and loved. Sometimes you need the right person at the right time to understand. Gunner was a great artist because of how intuitive and visceral his drawings were. It was like he was drawing from his entire life experience to express himself in a page. At first he had little control of it, but with time it was molded and polished so that the madness was discernable, but not gone from the drawing. His mindset for drawing was fun, and he too was always going after small artists of all kinds.

But going back to Batter drawings and abstraction, an artist that has also inspired me over the years in that aspect of bluring symbol and representation into one solid thing, and similarly started somewhat small like Gunner, is Matt Lesniewski. His hatching is out of this world, and his character design is evocative and never boring. The characters are huge balls of symbols made into physical objects. Recently he straight-up draws the belts of characters floating. It's wonderful.

Another artist that does this bluring very well, and is very inspiring, is nailgun waowao. They really, well, nail the appeal of making images that have all the defining elements of a certain scene or character, but open closer look they are fragmented and completely abstracted. It's like a bigger image overlayed with many smaller stories and symbols.

But to go back to talking about active inspirations that came before, and got to me to where I am at the moment, it's a bit harder. I can't really make it sound smart besides going "uuh I don't know like abstract stuff, cubism idk lol." Just try to appreciate the great things your friends make, and try and work together to make something even greater.

Some of the most improvement I had in art was from learning with friends. Art ultimately is a form of communication, understanding other people and yourself will make you better at it. Technical skill is fun and speaks for itself, but your experiences will reach much deeper. In a world where we can't even begin to compreehend the powers that be, loving and understanding what is close is probably gonna make your life and art much better.

[eldritch-spouse]

Hey Pinnie, a friend gave me this idea of wondering how the Icons would react to their queen having fake nipple piercings and some in the shape of their own?

Cause I know going through the process of getting them pierced is gonna hurt, so fake one's are better. *💋 on the cheek*

The only Icon with pierced nipples currently is Vesper. Rinx and Kalymir don't have nipples. Zizz has crescent-shaped nipples, Vesper's are heart-shaped. Livius, Cero and Vorticia have relatively normal nipples (Vorticia's are retractable).

Vesper will express disappointment in yours being fake. Come on, get the real thing, the two of you should match, no? He can arrange the cosmetic to have them heart-shaped as well, leave it all to him. Just promise that you'll show them off to the whole Ring when it's done.

Zizz honestly doesn't know where you got the cosmetic to make them look like his, but it makes him laugh lots. He already liked playing with your tits, now he's got a dopey little grin on his face when he does it too. He sure hopes you don't regret it. Whether your piercings are real or fake, he's not too bothered. Wear whatever you like on your chest.

Cero turns his nose up. No. You're getting them pierced properly and he already knows which ones you'll wear, just let him contact his jewelers. Something sober yet incredibly beautiful, perhaps on the small side, but entirely unmissable. He'll make a work of art out of your tits.

Rinx really doesn't mind. He'll keep getting you more nipple piercings, real or fake. It's more of an excuse for him to keep acquiring more and more jewelry. Putting any sort of gold or green gem on them is also a surefire way to make sure Rinx is always fiddling with your titties.

Kalymir finds out they're fake and laughs at you ao hard he nearly shatters the walls. Pathetic. Get them pierced, you fucking pussy. He'll get you some spiked rings for those beauties when it's done. Maybe a chain or something, to tug you around by the tits. You can probably see him salivate by then.

Hey. If you get yours pierced, then Livius will too. You know this. Whatever you wear, he'll get a pair too.

Vorticia can't blame you for wearing fake piercings, she'd definitely never get hers pierced, it'd make retracting them awkward if she forgets to take it off in time. That being said, she'll order a custom set themed after snakes for you. Just let her stare at you for a while, it's a delicious sight.

[ivesambrose]

𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐬 💌

July 22 through September 3, 2023, Venus will be Retrograde in the sign of Leo ♌

Here's what you can expect instead of focusing on the generic 'return of exes'. It's highly likely you'll be revisiting some themes related to your childhood, self worth and individuality. Close some chapters with grace so you can start new ones inevitably.

The messages are for your Sidereal Signs (however, if you feel that it's applying to your natal placements more then you are free to consider that) Rising and Moon are mostly considered in your Sidereal, you may check your sun sign as well. 🧡

Aries : There will be a strong focus on your physical health. I sense that if you're not eating well and not putting quality food in your body most of the time and drinking enough water it'll start to show on your face. This can happen because you're too focused on work and travel so you can't really maintain your routine and in turn you find yourself being extra critical of yourself and your appearance. Please avoid doing so. You're doing the best you can do don't add more stress and let it pile up. Even if you're mindful of your eating, drinking and sleep habits at least 5/7 times a week it will help. Learn to go gentle on yourself. Additionally, you might reconnect with old friends you have lost touch with or a community you were once a part of or pick up an incomplete project and finish it.

Taurus : opportunities that come with ease , collaborations, doing something that empowers you. Thing is, you'll be feeling the urge to get a lot done and might push yourself to look for opportunities when the advice is to allow them to come to you, you'll know on your own. You might feel like you're in the spotlight and it can get overwhelming for some of you. But I'm getting you'll be getting recognition for your creativity, make new friends, connect with a lot of people and likey even guide them in some way. There is a prospect of foreign travel too. Your dreams however are gonna be pretty intense and symbolic so pay attention to them.

Gemini : Finding joy in making daily little rituals for yourself, be it a workout regimen, skincare routine, study routine etc you'll be logging them and romanticizing them even. You just want to look after yourself. Some of you want to party and have fun but only with close friends and siblings. You'll be reconnecting with your inner child, watching more culturally diverse movies or shows. You're inherently very curious this time around, you wanna connect with people but it might feel overstimulating almost so you'll focus back on your well being. You may spend money on health, art supplies or travels so keep that in check. You'll also realize that you've barely scratched the surface of your potential and you should give yourself a chance before shutting yourself out.

Cancer : Healing of generational trauma and release of guilt that you've been suppressing. If certain issues resurface it's time to put it down completely. I see most of these are related to your self esteem, self worth and maybe even your childhood to early teens. You'll find it in you to forgive because you simply don't feel the need to carry the weight with you anymore. There might be challenges when it comes to education, higher education, travel, personal or religious beliefs that might come up momentarily. Take this time to look back on how far you've come and the progress you've made. You're always expanding and sometimes growing can be painful but it's worth it in the end. Be sure to appreciate the beauty within and around you a little more, it'll add up till that's your go to thing to focus on.

Leo : You can easily make the best out of this retrograde regardless of whatever you experience. A lot of you can see an increase in finances through creative work or if you're in the entertainment industry. You might consider dropping something rigid for something that let's you stand out individually and is spontaneous in nature or is something you've always wanted to do as a child. It will bring you travels, possible relocation and a lot of success, it is highly likely that a lot of you might consider leaving your current location since it's not allowing you to have fun or is detering your health, speaking of which please take supplements for your bones as heart health, take it easy. You'll learn to shine on your own but also honor the ones who have been rooting for you since day 1 or you'll learn to distinguish between those who've always sought to dim your light and those who have pushed you to do better.

Virgo : You'll discover a lot about yourself, you'll discover new friends, communities, ideas and places. You'll have more faith in the unknown or will feel interested in the occult sciences. You'll want to tap into the unknown and hone your gifts. You'll find that your thoughts, visions and words are manifesting a little too quickly. You might push yourself to be overly active in pursuits of your goals but will find yourself slowing down, you'll have to slow down and let things unfold for you. It might feel like a tiring time physically, random body aches, urge to sleep and dream more, dreams being a little too vivid and premonitive to your liking. Please stay hydrated you may be prone to lightheadedness. The art you make or any work you put out now, whatever it may be, will be very transformative for you and will pave the way ahead. Don't try to force things, be in the knowing of ease. Difficult when you want to micro manage but this retrograde is asking you to be a little more whimsical to enjoy your journey.

Libra : Renewal comes for sure once you become mindful of the ways you self sabotage. You might feel tested since a lot of cycles are clearing out. You will realise a lot of your future planning aren't as what they seem and that you need to be more fluid than rigid and no amount of stubborness or latching on will help, it will only cause health issues and a feeling of existential dread. This can be avoided too. You will also feel the need to change your routine or rather this will happen automatically for your own bebefit. Avoid self pity and escapism. Try and spend time near water bodies (stay safe) or try water painting, yoga, evening walks and for those into ballet or contemporary dancing, let limbs stretch and go with the flow. It's okay for some structures to break so that something better can be made. It's okay to let go when time comes.

Scorpio : In the past if you've felt that you have missed out on a substantial opportunity that could have grown into something significant or you've almost received something only for it to be taken away to the point you have felt betrayed by it, this time around you're going to manifest something even bigger for yourself, it won't feel like scarps. You might have conflicts internally or with others but it will get solved. I see you wanting more harmony in your life and the connections which matter to you and you'll have it. Be less self critical of yourself in your pursuit of perfection be it in your work, health, routine or the you're of service to others. Avoid any heavy or big financial investments, let the money come to you first the bigger investments can wait. The more you enjoy the mundane things the easier life will flow. The quicker your desires will come to you.

Sagittarius : You haven't been nurturing yourself enough, so even if this means cooking yourself a hearty meal or treating yourself to one, please do so. Eat well and let yourself feel your feelings, it's okay. You might realize you have been looking out for others so much that you feel neglected. Open up to receiving the tenderness, time, compassion and love you deserve as well. Some of you might be concerned with the health of a mother figure in your life, it will be alright. I see likely more alternate type of treatments might be a little more beneficial (ayurvedic or homeopathic for eg.) You may feel nostalgic or a yearning for family or home. Emotionally, I sense you're guarded and don't want to let anyone in, take your time to heal and appreciate you for yourself and how far you've come, with that being said let yourself be appreciated too.

Capricorn : Allow endings to empower you. They have a beauty to it. Once you accept it you'll see the path ahead clearly if not, it will become overwhelming. You'll feel a calling to take a risk and might be something you've clearly never experienced and aren't used to but you feel beaconed to it. There will be fall out with people or people in authority, things might feel distruptive, don't make your mind your enemy. You will encounter someone very unlikely who will aid in your journey, meeting them will be very transformative, like they have the answers you've been seeking. You'll feel more spiritually inclined and open to learning, seeking, exploring especially esotericism, cultures and languages. You'll find your silver lining, it will be brighter than you expected.

Aquarius : Taking on the role of a leader in your life and not everyone or anyone else's. Change of perception and a genuine desire to seek something more sacred. You'll be healing wounds and patterns from your past relationships. You may want to become self sufficient and self reliant and find this empowering. If you've been suffering from any skin ailments it might aggravate only to remind you look after your hygiene, stay clean and look for any ingredient that maybe causing further issues. Once addressed, it will no longer be much of an issue. You may want to detach from social media and travel short distances instead. Relationship with siblings will also improve, spend time with them aswell if you've been neglecting them.

Pisces : Trusting your intuition more. Gaining wisdom and insight from unexpected places and unsual people. You can often sense what other's cannot, so if you feel you should read between the lines and look for synchronicities, you should listen to what your inner voice is saying. It's also very important for you to learn how to have proper boundaries with people, it's genuinely hampering your energy and well being especially if you're in public places a lot. Be mindful of people, not everyone has their best interests towards you. You will take up something you'll feel like a complete beginner at but if you stay disciplined you'll excel in it. Romance yourself and your life first and foremost, write, draw, scuplt, edit, cook, weave, scuplt etc if you must. For you, I wanna say practice makes perfect. You already know this, so trust me it's okay if you're not automatically good at something. Convey what your heart seeks, your sincerity will be rewarded

╚══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══╝♡╚══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══╝

To book a personal reading with me you can DM or email me with your query at Ivesambrose@gmail.com

Personal Readings

Masterpost

Thank you for the tip 🌹

[setsugekka]

❥interview with the littérateur (m)

↳ With your career hanging on by a thread and at the mercy of your publisher, heading up to the old estate on the mountain for a couple of months to write a biographical piece about the keeper feels a bit of a whimsical blessing.

Only to find one of the most brilliant, beautiful minds wasting away within the walls.

→ the last installment of the paradise lost universe.

kim hongjoong x fem!reader — strangers to lovers, romance, heavy angst, slow burn, pining, sexual content. [24,7k wc] cws: mental health struggles, depression, substance addiction (alcohol+pain meds), overdose (vomiting), unhealthy relationships & coping strategies, their relationship is not really the healthiest but it makes for good fiction. penetrative sex.

As the antique clock strikes eight at night, you blink through a relatively empty thought and become starkly aware of your immediate surroundings once more.

Tongue dragging over your front teeth and chin clasped in your hand, you realize your staring out into the nothingness of your quiet apartment — a cup of tea now long since chilled from the cool breeze wafting in from the open window across the room, and your phone sitting face up as you sit in wait for the inevitable phone call that more certainly will be arriving at any moment now.

It's been months coming, this phone call. Months of slow work and even slower payoff as a result of the work that does get done, the conversation that you're about to embark on with your publisher is far from anything new, and the information being given to you by the man more of the same.

Part of you is merely hoping that you'll end the night with your employment still intact.

Eyes screwing shut as you attempt to fight back the emerging thoughts of doom that threaten to overtake you, you instead make the quick decision to stand and head into your kitchen for a wine glass and a much-too-large offering of red to calm your nerves.

Yes, it's a Wednesday. No, you do not care.

But really the problem reside in the fact that you feel as though all options already exhausted: in a world where people and media seems to be constantly in shift, you can't help but wonder if perhaps the golden art of the written word simply be on the outs. That maybe the world is simply moving on without you.

Journalism and the writing therein being a craft that you've honed for so many years — as long as you can recall, really — the thought of moving on to something different or new not a decision that you take lightly. Rather, it's not one that you care to take, at all.

The vibration of your telephone comes in suddenly, and much louder than you had anticipated against the stained glass of your living room table. Shockingly even to you, your reach towards the device is swift as you answer the call with the utmost urgency.

Some part of you desperate to meet an end, in ways.

Taking work calls this late and so far from billed hours isn't uncommon, and is something that you've grown rather used to in your time doing this line of work. If the city never sleeps, then neither would its inhabitants, and if there comes to be a story to tell — well, you simply have to be able get there to tell it, don't you?

"How are you?"

A kind consideration from the man on the other end rather than a genuine curiosity, due in part to the fact that he very well know precisely how it is that you're doing. You suppose that you're doing as well as any other person would be when their career is hanging on by a thread, and as a result, everything else about their life as they know it.

The bills have already begun to pile up as a result of the cutbacks and lack of commission checks — no more bonuses and at this point, you've made it to the final round of employees still left in your line of business at the agency.

Until the guys at the top tire of bleeding money endlessly into a division of craft seemingly long since lost and forgotten by the people of this town.

"Oh, you know," you answer back, and with little effort to conceal the air of devastation laden in your tone.

"I do," he acknowledges with ease and a sigh. "Things are tough and I've had to pull a lot of strings with the guys upstairs to not get our whole place sacked. You know that."

You do.

"On the bright side, if you're concerned about this being that phone call, then I can put your mind at ease for now. It's not."

The words do quell your fears in the immediate moment. Knowing that your job remain intact at least for now means that you'll be able to pay your rent and put food in your mouth for the next month, at least. Beyond that? Only time will tell, really.

One day at a time.

"Your work is good, some of the best I've ever seen in all of my years doing this — and you know I'm not just blowing smoke up your ass, either. It's not you. We've let a lot of good writers go as a result of all of this and I really hate to see it, you know that."

He's a nice enough man, but one thing your publisher is not, is short-winded. A tendency to babble. After years at the firm, you're learned to pick and choose your listening ability — able to hone in only on the important bits that will eventually come to head through all of the other words that happen to fall along side them from the mans tiresome mouth.

"I think I have a lead—"

Oh?

"—you're not going to like it, though."

Oh.

Through the speaker, you can hear him flipping through paperwork sat in his lap, or maybe even on a table in front of him. The mental image of him so easily seen despite his physical absence in front of you: sloppy comb-over hairstyle and a toothpick in his mouth that dangles from the corner at all times, regardless of how recently he has eaten anything, you can't help but perk up at the thought of him — more than likely so proud of himself for finally finding something that might assist the both of you on your journey to not having to file for unemployment in the immediate future.

"Well, I'm not really in any position to turn something down, so lay it on me, I suppose."

"You know the place at the top of the hill?"

Eyebrows knitting together as you attempt to recall the vision of such a thing, you do so quickly, although the idea of what this could have to do with anything still far from your knowledge as you work to put the potential pieces together of where your boss be going with this well ahead of his arrival at the point.

"The manor? What about it?"

"Turns out someone lives there — has for years already and almost no one knows about it," he begins, the slicing sound of pages flipping ringing loud and clear through the phone again as he drawls on. "According to my sources he's an artist. Done a lot of paint work and some photography that did really well but wrote a book after the fact and that's what really ended up catapulting him into whatever sort of fame he landed in."

Gently shaking your head as you listen to him, you can't help but ask the obvious question. The question that anyone else in your position would be asking. "Okay. So what?"

"I think that there is an opportunity here."

Sucking your teeth and glancing up to no one in the empty living room of your apartment, you try desperately to see the angle at which your publisher is seeing this from. You don't wish to be condescending, truly, because you know he wouldn't be bringing this up to you at all if not for genuinely seeing a range of possibility here.

But for you, it is lost.

"So, we're just going to write up pieces about everyone who has ever written a book in this city in hopes that one of them hits it big?" you joke, but only partially.

Chuckling at your reluctance on the other end of the phone, the man inhales deeply — so much so that you can hear him do so. "No, but this guy is sort of a special case — and less than the man or the piece itself, instead it's sort of the surroundings in which the project would take place that would make it special. Which is why I'm bringing it to you, and not to anyone else."

"What 'surroundings' are we talking about, here?"

And without hearing more, you already know that you're not going to like whatever it is that he have to bestow upon you.

"So, this guy is a bit of a reclusive type from what I'm gathering. I've glanced through the book he wrote and it's quite good, but it certainly doesn't give off the impression that should you go up there to meet with him that he'll be welcoming you with open arms," pausing, your publisher flips through another page or two before continuing on with the thought. "And per my sources, he doesn't do interviews, anyway."

Rolling your eyes and gently shaking your head, thankful that the man unable to see your disappointment in this monumental waste of your time, you make a conscious effort to bite all of that back before responding to him once more. "Okay, sounds like a lead that's dead in the water, then."

"Not quite."

Great.

"I know a guy who knows his publisher, and it seems as though management on this guys end is getting rather fed up with the down in the dumps, unwillingness to work act that our little artist has been putting on for a good while now, so as a result, he's willing to cut a deal to get us an otherwise unattainable opportunity."

And while you appreciate his dedication to being incredibly thorough with the unveiling of information to you, you can't help but feel the distinct cloud of dread looming overhead at whatever it is that the man is purposefully avoiding telling you in regards to this 'opportunity,' in particular.

A lot of words, and still no arrival at the actual point of how you are expected to go about this, after all. The manor on the hill a good hour and a half train north, and from the station an additional forty-five minutes up the bend — and that's before you ever even arrive on the property. Suffice to say, it's far from a journey you wish to make weekly, or worse than that, multiple times a week.

You know that he knows this, and that his giving pause almost certainly revolve around this point, in particular.

"And do tell me of this once in a lifetime opportunity," you finally beckon, playfully sarcastic in tone and drawling another chuckle from the man on the other end of the line.

Sighing, as if bested in his own game and with no other option but to relinquish the reigns of knowledge he's been doing his best to avoid, he finally fills you in on just what it is that is being asked of you.

You just about drop your phone to the floor as a result of it, too.

"It's only for a few months!" He insists earnestly, nearly pleading for your mercy already even in spite of your lack of declining as much. "And really, you can leave any time, I just really think this is going to be it. I really think this is our best shot. No one else has ever been offered an opportunity to talk with him like this!"

"You're effectively asking me to write a book, a biography!" You bite back quickly. "I've never written anything like that before, I don't know the first thing about writing something like that, and now you're asking me to move into a strangers home who you admit to being none too inviting towards me in an attempt to pry him open for information about his life?"

Silence blankets the both of you when you finish your tirade, chest heaving and just about out of breath as a result of it when you finish. With a few seconds passing of quiet between you, the man on the other end of the phone exhales heavily again, before answering you with a simple but affirmative, "yes."

Thinking through all of the branches of outcomes that accepting something like this would and could mean for you, you can't help but shake your head in disbelief as you continue on with your loud bewilderment as a result of what is being asked of you.

"You know that I would have to sell my apartment? My belongings? What do I do if this doesn't pay off?"

"How many more months can you afford your place with the way things are going now?"

The response shuts you up entirely — neither petty nor delivered with contempt, rather, an honest question coming from a man that you know reside in the very same position as you do: with the bank notices piling up on the coffee table just next to you and the looming darkness of your job going under at any given moment even after the promise of tomorrow being another day of the same, it is, unfortunately, a fair enough question that you know he already know the answer to.

"I wouldn't ask you to do this if I didn't think there was promise in it," he amends the statement, and with compassion carrying his tone. "I can't promise it'll turn out the way that I hope it will, but I can promise that the result of it not turning out is the same as you not going at all."

You've already arrived to that conclusion, unfortunately. Realizing that at some point in the conversation you've forgotten to breathe, you finally inhale deeply at what this means for you — for your immediate future and your life as you've known it.

The living elsewhere for a few months is the simplicity of it, of course. The beautiful, vine covered manor just at the top of the hill, who wouldn't dream of spending a night roaming the candlelit halls of such an exquisite landmark — and perhaps even calling it home, for however temporary that may be.

Rather, it's the lack of knowing what reside therein: before cutting the call, your publisher tells you that he will email you the details of the arrangement should you choose to accept it, as well as the subjects name and the title of his book. The information reads acceptance of guests as early as the next week, and you can't help but think of how you could possibly have all of your loose ends tied up in time to make this deadline — much less, any of the future deadlines that await you ahead of this journey.

A hard, long close of your eyes before you set your phone back down onto the table and lie back along the length of your uncomfortable, mustard yellow couch — you stare up towards the ceiling as your mind swims in thought at...this. Quite simply, just all of this.

A book titled 'Without Warning.'

If you think back, you find that you do recall hearing some of the buzz about it in the office and even at your favorite coffee shop just below your flat — something that you suppose you've somehow managed to miss during the ardent struggle of figuring out how it is that you'll manage to make your rent payment each and every month, with the words now pressed to the forefront of your mind, it's familiar — and if you're honest, a bit intriguing, now.

And as you lie there in the cold, dead of night and long since resigned to your fate, you think of the picture of the back of the book as sent over by the man you had just been on the phone with only minutes earlier: small and frail as he sit slumped against the edge of a stool for a photograph that he makes no effort in concealing his distaste for, it's the distinct and sharp slope of his nose against otherwise soft features that really has your attention.

Paired with a rather telling unwillingness to look into the camera, as well.

As a result, you can't help but ponder how much of himself lie within the text of the book in question. How much raw, tender, still-beating heart hide buried between pages for the world to cast their gaze upon. So much so that he have no other option but to avert his eyes entirely at the promise of any additional prying looks upon his already open wounds.

How much of yourself have you accidentally allowed the world to bear witness to, and how monumental has the suffering been, in turn?

Transition is difficult. Life carries with it tremendous pain; so tell me yours, Kim Hongjoong.

When the day finally arrives, you're at the very least thankful for the fact that you have little belongings left to worry about from this day on — a certain tranquility resulting from the downsizing of ones things, when the black vehicle meant to take you to your new and temporary home pulls up slowly to the curb in front of the apartment building that you've once called home, you find that you have no choice but to seek peace in the ownership of nothing more than two suitcases full of the comfort of what once was.

There's still some furniture left along with a handful of other things that your publisher is happy to take care of in your absence as thanks for doing all of this to begin with. As a result, it feels a bit like abandoning your life in favor for another one: a quick disappearance and so many unanswered questions about what the future has in store for you — as the driver comes around to take your bags and place them into the trunk of the car, he brings himself further still to open the backseat door for you, as well.

It feels bizarrely upper class and official, being treated like some sort of royalty despite being far from deserving of it, and even more than that, far from meeting with it, as well. The man in question that you're meant to accompany for the next few months no one of nobility or royal bloodline; nothing more than a guy with far more money than he likely knows what to do with, and as a result, hired staff often the obvious decision among the less-common folks.

Only a little less than an hour by car until you reach the large, decorative, black metal gates of the property; part of you regrets having thought judgmentally of the car being sent for you at all now that the travel time is cut down so substantially — even so, with your forehead just about pressed up to the glass of the window as you're gently carried along the gravel road and up towards the residence, your eyes follow along with all of the greenery and decorative architecture that line the pathway for your journey: meticulously trimmed and shaped trees as well as other such shrubbery that is so evidently kept preened and proper, you know that realistically no one who lives on such a property is taking care of it on their own — such a feat nearly impossible as it is — and it's then that you catch vision of one of many presumable staff members that call this massive castle their home in order to maintain it throughout the years.

However, you tend to not think too highly of those with kept staff. Perhaps judgmental of you, but in your experience the sorts of people come along with a bit of a reputation for being quite self-important.

Insufferable, miserable types.

When the vehicle stops finally and just in front of the long, wide set of white cement steps leading up to the front doors, the driver is the first to exit; once again opening your door and shortly thereafter circling around to the back to pop the trunk and retrieve your belongings. As you step out slowly and you make your first step onto the gravel below, it finally begins to hit you just how much of a massive undertaking you've agreed to undergo, and all for the sake of you and your career.

An unfathomably massive landmark of a castle — this much is not news, with the manor able to be seen from just about anywhere in town, but now that you're here you find its greatness far more breathtaking than you had really and truly expected when accepting the terms of this endeavor.

Hard to believe that all of this land, and all of this home, belong to one, single man.

"Your bags," the driver says, and the words come as such a surprise that you're sure you appear just as jarred as you are from hearing them. "It's just up the stairs and through the doors, the madam will greet you inside and show you the grounds from there."

Thanking him, you take your things from him and make quick work of the travel between two places, taking in the sights and scents around you. The air is crisper up here, cleaner, in some way.

It's rather delightful, inexplicably intoxicating on account of being so far out from the inner city now.

Stilling in front of two massive, wooden doors — carved and weathered from years of exposure to the elements — you find yourself already making so many mental notes of your surroundings for the book that you have somehow found yourself responsible for writing, in spite of everything. Surprisingly, you find the desire to document your discoveries here already ever present; the want to quickly get to your lodging and dig out your laptop for jotting thoughts down already making itself known at the forefront of your mind.

Two knocks, but you decide to simply help yourself to entry once you reconsider the likelihood of being heard by anyone in such an expansive place like this.

"Hello?"

Your greeting echoes through the wide open halls of the doorway, and quite quickly you hear hurried footsteps making their way towards you on the shined, dark green marble of the floor as far as the eye can see.

It smells like vanilla and cinnamon — faint, but present nonetheless. Inviting and comforting, you're thankful for that much, at least.

And from your left a woman comes suddenly from around the corner: long, dark blue dress and a towel in hand as she continues wiping her hands while making her way towards you with a gentle smile.

"You're here."

"Yeah, sorry, I sort of just let myself in..."

"That's quite all right," she continues her smile. "You'll be living here, after all. This is your home, too. Come and go as you wish."

Offering her a simple nod in response, your attention instead gets pulled to everything surrounding — dark interior and candles lining hallways in a way that makes the place feel suspenseful and medieval, you hear her let out a bit of a laugh that has you bringing your attention back to hers, only to find her glancing around just the same as you had been moments ago.

"The mister enjoys his dark tones," she says without being asked. "A bit of a dramatic fellow, as artists are most often. Shall I show you to your room?"

Following along with the woman, she informs you that her name is Rosaria, and it not all that necessary to refer to her as the madam — that being on the premises tends to give a feeling of olden times and as a result, people often find it easy to slip into a sort of role play, as it were. Pretending to be in a historical piece you think to be extremely easy the more you walk the halls — everything surrounding you feeling incredibly antiquated and long since lost from its original time, it brings you far more intrigue about the man than you originally had.

What kind of person prefers to surround themselves with so many things that feel so distinctly of the past? Not their past, but a past long before their conception, at that.

"It's here."

Stopping just in front of the doorway, Rosaria unlocks the door and hands the key to you before taking your bags and entering the room with you following closely behind.

It's not only massive, but beautiful, as well.

A single huge bookshelf lining one of the walls and chock full of more reading material than you know what to do with — plush, white rugs on either side of a bed far larger and more ornate than you would ever find yourself needing — you take specific notice of the bathroom and the vanity stationed just next to it before turning your attention back to the woman with a collection of features that is all too telling of your feeling out of your element, entirely.

"The staff are on duty twenty-four seven, so if you ever need anything please use the telephone on the dresser to call down or feel free to come find someone," she tells you with a delicate, placating grin. "The kitchen is just downstairs where we met, you'll find it with ease should you go poking around down there. Is there anything else I can get for you or any other questions you may have?"

"Yeah," you answer, still glancing around nearly absentmindedly but understanding of the question presented to you all the same. "When do I meet him?"

But instead of being met with an immediate reply, instead you're presented with a bizarre and unmistakably cumbrous silence before the woman standing before you takes it upon herself to respond to the inquiry.

"The master isn't around much," she begins, and watching her eyes pull elsewhere you know this to be far from a topic she wishes to be engaging in. Likely because the woman have little to offer you in consolation of the fact. "The grounds are effectively yours while you're here, however, so enjoy your stay. All but the upstairs master bedroom, of course."

"With all due respect," you start quickly and before the woman is able to escape from the conversation in question. "How am I expected to write a book about a man that I'm not able to speak to or get into contact with."

And to that, Rosaria merely gifts you a small, simple grin — one that almost as quickly melts into a frown.

"You do have your work cut out for you."

Upon deciding to take the main keeper of the home up on the offer to wander the halls and make your way to the aforementioned kitchen, you carefully make your way out from your bedroom and into the corridor, marveling at the litany of antique paintings and statued figures that line the walls and walkway as you carry yourself towards the direction from which you came. A home that feels entirely unlived in and more like a museum, staffed with people to ensure the sanctity of the space and that no harm come to the artwork on display within the mansion, it brings to you just that much more bubbling curiosity about the man who chooses to keep himself utterly locked away and alone within such a place.

Surrounded by collections and one of a kind items, but seemingly never to be gazed upon by anyone but the people tasked with their delicate upkeep.

In one room along the way and on the same side as your own, you glance into the open doorway to find nothing but more of the same: a wide array of books, statues, and indoor plants. A place that feels as though it should be wholly blocked off and not meant for anyones entry despite being told of quite the opposite.

Beyond this room and on the other side of the hall you're far from shocked to find nothing more than similar to the last. This time, a small, wooden table with a handful of books stacked one on top of the other, as well as a large, plush chair to accompany the scene. A comfortable, quiet, reading room of sorts, but you suppose for none other than the staff and should any guests happen to find themselves wandering these halls just as you are — then, for them to enjoy, as well.

But you don't figure that such a time comes to pass all that often here.

One thing that you find yourself thankful for, however, is your sense of direction and the ease in which you're able to navigate such an expansive property. Not long until you make your way back down the stairs and into the central welcoming area, you quietly saunter towards the same doorway in which the madam had originally exited to greet you, and through there you find yourself surrounded by a wide open, and immaculately kept kitchen: black marble counter tops as well as black painted cupboards with little golden knobs for accenting — upon entering, you take pause to enjoy the sight of such a place and for a moment you consider just how much could be done with a space like this. Large gatherings of loved ones and people alike for dinner and parties, and just as Rosaria had warned, you find yourself enjoying the fantasy of a decadent masquerade among royalty — the long, perfectly made dining room table just to your right aiding in the beauty of the vision.

Impossible to not view it as a bit of a waste, but none of your business, all the same.

Gently prying open drawers and handles to locate cutlery and dinnerware for the inevitability of needing to feed yourself, once you get a hang of where things go, you take it upon yourself to bring an eye into the tall, stainless steel refrigerator kept just next to the archway from which you entered.

However, inside of it you find very little. Thoughtfully kept fruits and veggies from the kitchen staff for meal prep but otherwise empty as far as food seems to go.

Rather, you take notice of the wide array of alcohol bottles that line the shelves within. White wines and other such bottles that you're not able to discern from one another at a glance, you can't shake the feeling of walking in on something that perhaps wasn't meant for your eyes, at all.

Suppose that food can wait, and especially with more of the property to take in the sight of.

If meant to be living within the walls of a museum, you think it only right to truly engage with it as such: walking further down the hallway and from the kitchen, you pass a large living room with a fireplace. One table and three, enormous, plush, red velvet chairs all seated at some angle to it, it's unremarkable to you how empty and harrowing everything about the home feels. A sort of cold chill that comes from walking the premises unlike anything ever felt before — distinctly feeling as if the property of someone long since passed away, and yet knowing that the man still very much alive and well, pointedly holed up at the highest point and far away from the prying eyes of any potential onlookers such as yourself.

And the truth is that yes, you want nothing more than to look upon him, quite possibly just as much as he wish to not receive your glance. A tug-of-war between two people having never even met before, but in your head you make a point to call out to him in hopes that somehow, some way, he come to hear your beckoning for him.

Whatever you're afraid of, you don't have to be.

Making your way to the end of the dark, marble walkway, a woman enters from through the crystal clear glass doors with gloves and gardening tools in hand. Offering you a smile and continuing on her way too quickly for you to be able to grant her the same in return, you catch the door in hand before it shuts and slowly make your way in the direction from which she came: large, perfectly shapen shrubs lining the same white cemented steps as the front doors of the house now leading you down and into the vast garden of the grounds: as far as the eye can see you find the overwhelming beauty of greenery and colorful flowers — accompanying the sights comes the clear scents of such, as well. Refreshing and alluring, you close your eyes and allow it all to encompass you as you stand at the very last step, a light, cool breeze cascading across your face and wafting the feelings over you all the more.

With a few steps further, you meet the quiet rumbling of a large, beautifully crafted water fountain — small droplets of water splashing out and onto the exposed flesh of your hands and face, you look up towards it and the statue of the figure that sit atop it: a mermaid sort of figure with a large orb of some sort in hand.

Another breeze, and paired with the dampness offered by the fountain, it sends a chill down your spine — the temperature dropping as the night carries on with each passing minute.

It's only the first night and you press upon yourself not to be presumptuous, but after having walked the halls and enjoyed the sights, scents and sounds of the property, you can't help but consider what kind of man wish to have such things, yet not truly enjoy them. Even prior to your arrival and with Rosaria's admittance, the mister of the manor often left unseen and rather accepted as a quiet and unacknowledged occupant of the home, now more than ever you simply have to know more about him.

The kind of man that needs to surround himself with beauty and yet refuses to indulge in it whatsoever.

Back inside of your room and comfortably unpacked, you sit at the study with laptop open and sigh out into the open air at not only what you've come to learn, but the lack of it, as well. You contemplate just how you are expected to interview a man with no clear interest in being interviewed by you — a man who quiet evidently avoids the halls of his own home even among no one else but the company of his housekeepers, now faced with the intrusion of an outsider.

How is one meant to lure such a man out, and even if you were to, how are you expected to get him to talk? Open up? Bare his soul to you, a stranger, when all evidence thus far points to a distinct unwillingness to do anything of the sort.

Glancing over towards one of your suitcases as it lie open on the floor, inside of it you take notice of a book.

'Without Warning'.

Tucked into bed and with novel in hand, it's not long before the hurt nestled between the pages becomes so starkly evident to you. Buried deep within hides a younger, successful, and much more optimistic man — and along the way, documented is all of the ways in which each and every one of those eventually be ripped away from his grasp.

The irony of living in such a place while speaking as if success never having found him at all: no stranger to money, and still with plenty of it, yet, with every turn of the page he tells a tale of loss. Still, through all of the aforementioned, it's none of them that appear to wear on him as much as the one in particular — a word distinctly and pointedly left out from the text in as many ways as he has found it possible. Though, as a reader, and a writer yourself, it's not difficult to discern precisely the word that it is that has found itself decidedly absent from each and every page of his memoir.

Love.

Never said, but alluded to in full — so many pages dedicated to family and travel and a person, but the word never uttered. As if so much as even typing it cause the man in question such grievous heartache that he cannot bear the thought of doing so.

How can you feel so much, and do so without love?

A question presented with the most obvious answer: you don't. As a result, the next most obvious question lie in wait, instead.

Why does love hurt you so?

It takes eight days.

On the evening of the seventh and just after tucking yourself in for bed, you receive the deadline text that you suspect to have been coming all along. Waking up in the morning, the words still hang just as heavily in your mind as if just having read them as you come into consciousness.

'Word going around upstairs is that our department has three months until dissolution, hope you can get something in time.'

So do you.

Faintly, you can hear the sounds from down below of the kitchen staff preparing breakfast for all of the inhabitants of the estate. With a slow roll to your side, you reach for your phone to check the time as the light just begins to peak in through the gently swaying blinds across the room.

Just barely past seven. It smells like pancakes and bacon.

And even through the clamoring of pots and pans downstairs, you think that nothing sound off as loudly as the nearly empty word document that reside all but untouched on your laptop just a few feet away.

A week in and you've more or less gotten used to the routine of the staff within the home — passing by the same handful of people each and every time you make your way downstairs for your first meal of the day and greeted by smiling faces, you suppose that you've found yourself more and more comfortable with your new normal as it stands now. There are obvious perks, of course: a freshly made bed and sheets each day, frequently done laundry and home cooked meals not needing of your own hands for preparation, it's jarring in some ways as something you've never considered yourself living in, much less getting used to — yet, you fall into it with surprising ease.

Three steps down the grand staircase towards the open entrance room, you hear a distinctly unfamiliar voice — two, in fact. Men, as far as you can tell, but no visual in sight yet and only your ears to go off of, you wonder if you're soon to stumble upon previously unmet staff members who likely find themselves busy most hours of the day with activities that don't lend themselves to making friends with passerby.

How delightful, you think to yourself as you continue on your way.

Winding down the rest of the carpeted steps, when the source of the voices come into focus, you certainly wouldn't be able to explain to anyone how it is that you know, only that you do.

One man facing you and the other with his back turned, your eyes hone in on the man not yet having you in his sights — with brown hair that lie long against his neck and shoulders across a thin, long, black cardigan and loose, dark pants that could just as well make a case for being pajama pants — it's the gentleman standing in front of the door and most able to meet your eye that does so first, whatever words on his tongue stalling at the sight of you entering and as a result, pulling the attention of the other man in question.

Turning slowly, the man with the mullet glances back and over his shoulder at you just briefly before switching back to whatever business he happen to be attending to.

"You can't keep putting this off, I can only stall them so much before I need to be able to give them something, anything—"

"I'm working on it."

You're only listening in and yet can't help but notice how undeniably flat the response is, and understanding the lingo all too well, you come to understand this man to be his publisher.

"You haven't given me anything in six months, Hongjoong," the man sighs, evidently grown tired of having this very same conversation for who knows how many times by now. "I need something. This month."

"I know, I'm working on it."

And as you reach the bottom of the staircase, the publishers attention once again pulls to you. Exasperated and beyond defeated, his bids the man of the house a simple farewell before turning and exiting the building.

As for the man left remaining, he merely slips his hands into his pockets, staring at the door in front of him as it slowly comes to a booming close.

Now that you're level with him, you take the time presented to eye him much more closely — not knowing when the next time may be that you're graced with his presence, as it is. Small in stature and dressed as if having just rolled out of bed himself, Hongjoong exhales with a sigh before turning and taking a step towards you.

Thankfully, the time has finally come.

But rather than an introduction, you're merely left with a short glance as the man carry himself past you and back up the staircase just behind you without a single word spoken.

Just silence and an undeniable limp to his step.

"M-Mr. Kim!"

It's the best you can muster up at a moments notice, and thankfully it does give him pause as he stills mid-stride and halfway up the stairs. Staring up at him, you watch as he turn ever so slowly to allow his gaze to befall you.

Still, silence.

"Or Hongjoong, however you prefer to be addressed."

"I don't."

Taken aback at the reply, the most obvious question then comes to mind. "You don't...what?"

"Wish to be addressed."

You would be lying if you said you hadn't anticipated this.

Brushing it off, you continue on with what you need to do. "Do you know who I am? I'm here to write—"

But before you're able to finish the sentence, Hongjoong interjects. "I know who you are."

His tone is dry and his features giving nothing more than his bare responses do, it's difficult to make heads or tails of the man as he stand before you. That is, beyond the fact that he quite evidently has no intention of making this easy for you. Again, you had anticipated this, as well.

However, you don't have the luxury of time on your side, and his unwillingness to partake is simply going to have to sit by the wayside. If it's pride, or self-importance, then the man has no option but to swallow it down and do what it is that you came to do. You simply will not back down with too much at stake.

"Then the quicker you allow me to do what I came here to do, then the quicker I can pack my bags and be out of your hair," you bargain.

Of course, it would be all too easy for him to simply accept as much.

Eyes still lazily pressed down and towards you, with a handful of moments of silence passed between the two of you Hongjoong merely sighs at the words before slowly turning back to continue his climb.

"I'll get around to it."

This much you certainly doubt.

"I'll chase you all around this place if I have to in order to get this done!"

As soon as the words leave your lips, you consider the usefulness of threats within the home of the very same man you're at the mere mercy of, but instead of arguing or flat out denying you such, you're met with nothing more than the silent wave of a hand as if dismissing you of the conversation at hand entirely.

Suppose that it isn't a 'no.'

When you're gently startled awake in the late hours of the night, you don't bother to check the time, instead opting to lie in bed for a moment to allow your consciousness to take you once again through the rhythmic sound of the ticking of an antique wall clock, as well as the dull but pleasant sound of piano keys being sloppily pressed just a ways down the hall — the opposite way in which you tend to go each day.

Out of your door and to the left: the rest of the manor in all of its glory.

Out of your door and to your right: another staircase, of which you dare not climb for fear of what it is that you may find.

You know what await up those stairs in theory — but at this point in time you far and away lack the understanding of making such an unknown journey.

Still, slipping your robe on as well as your house shoes, you carefully make your way out and down the hall in the direction of the enchanting sound; one, lone room hidden away just before the steps upwards with the smallest of flickering lights offering any illumination to signify it's occupancy. Tip-toeing down and just next to the doorway, you press your back delicately to the wall to listen in as the man from earlier in the day press a handful more keys into the most captivating melody. Some keys slightly off, and some missed altogether, you slowly bend to glance inside to take in the sight of the master of the house with wine bottle in the hand not captivated by the piano he sit in front of.

Bewitching is the word that comes to mind.

Candlelight dancing across his features as he slowly bob his head along with the tune he creates at a moments notice, you watch on even with the threat of being caught like this — intrigued and dazzled by him in a way that feels made entirely of fiction.

Perhaps it's the surroundings of the home that have your mind so caught up in the magic of him — a beguiling scene that even you can't seem to make sense of as you watch on.

But the feeling is there, all the same: a bubbling of emotion as you watch him drunkenly key at the instrument between swigs from the bottle in hand.

Peeling yourself away and back down the hall to your own bedroom, as you settle between your sheets and drift off back to sleep with the sound of him playing still carrying through the home, your mind draws back to that first, fleeting moment atop the stairs when you first laid eyes on him and in turn, his eyes on you.

And as sleep takes your weary form, you contemplate how prior to now perhaps the words never holding any special level of synonymous form to you.

Enchanting, and disarming.

As an early morning breeze carries itself into your bedroom from the barely cracked window and bringing along with it the refreshing scent of flowery invitation, you take it upon yourself to gaze out of said opening and onto the land as it presents itself to you for your visual taking of it: a vast land so immaculately kept and yet barely enjoyed by anyone on the premises beyond those set with the task of making sure of its upkeep, you decide today to be the perfect day for partaking in it in just the way that so many others unfortunately unable to do so.

And others choosing not to.

Slipping your laptop into your bag along with a writing pad and a pen, you shrug onto yourself a light coat and make your way down the halls that by now feel so familiar to you. Even in the bright offering of daytime, the mansion remain dark and dreary — perfect for tragic musings as well as the downfall of self-reflection, but sometimes, you simply have to get out of the clutches of these walls and see the sunlight once again.

Rosaria is the first familiar face you see among the staff halfway down the steps and into the wide open space of the front of the house: two bags of laundry slung over her shoulder and hurriedly hauling them elsewhere for their making, you greet each other cheerfully as you continue making your way towards the kitchen and eventually through it into the garden.

However, something stops you dead in your tracks at the archway of the dining area.

It stands to reason that crossing paths with the man who lives in the home shouldn't come as such a shock to you, but given the rarity of such an occurrence thus far, it feels as though you're stumbling in on a place you shouldn't be. All because he is there, as well.

You realize that having exchanged such few words with the man despite your time already spent here makes attempting to engage him in conversation now a chore.

Frozen where you stand, Hongjoong looks up from his mug of coffee as he stand in front of the counter — there's little expression given on his face for you to make any understanding of, but you do take note of the fact that he's wearing the same exact set of clothing as the last time you saw him out and about from the unknown goings on of the top most floor of the manor.

He looks as though he hasn't slept in days, with dark rings under his eyes and a lazily dazed set of features.

With no words exchanged between the two of you and clutching onto your bag, you continue on your way as originally intended — that is, before an idea comes to mind, and really, what's the worst that could happen?

"Would you like to join me?"

Silence once again drawls on between you in the expanse of the kitchen area, and assuming it to be a rather evident decline of your invitation, your lips thin into a straight line as if offering a half-hearted smile and you turn away from the man once again.

One step forward, and you hear him hum.

"Sure."

The walk feels long despite its brevity on account of how acutely quiet it is. Hongjoong doesn't say a word as he slowly follows just behind your strides, as if you're the person who lives there and himself simply being a guest. It's no matter nor difference to you despite the awkwardness of it all, continuing on to a spot you had already made note of in previous outings along the land: a large tree covered in lush, emerald leaves and offering ample shade for the next few hours at least — underneath it, a simple, metal table with two chairs that stands weathered by the outdoors surrounding it, but beautiful and functional, all the same.

You sit, and watch the man accompanying you as he quite carefully sets himself down opposite of you — taking extra care of his right leg, in particular.

Unsure if you're meant to ignore the airy wince that escapes his mouth, you instead pull your vision from him entirely and dig into your bag for your belongings — feigning not having heard it at all.

"Do you mind if I take notes about what we discuss?" You ask.

"Go ahead."

Hongjoong's curtness not something that offers much to work with as far as writing goes, you accept the fact that you're more than likely going to have to do a lot of filling in of surrounding details. Rather, this isn't a book meant to be about you, but it sure is difficult writing it about a man who makes it his mission to give you nothing in relation to your being there to begin with.

You're going to have to work for it. Challenge accepted.

Pen in hand, you glance up as he brings his coffee to his lips — eyes off to the side.

There, but hardly present.

"Can I ask about your career?"

"Sure."

Information pulled up on your phone, you quickly scroll through it to some notes you had taken early into your arrival at the manor and in anticipation of this very moment.

"It says you used to paint, and that you were quite successful at it. Want to tell me about that?"

He hums into the rim of the mug. "What's there to say beyond that? I painted, people liked it, they bought them."

Oh, he's going to make this as difficult as humanly possible. Already you find yourself coming to terms with the fact that getting the man to speak might not have been the most difficult part, and in fact, it's the getting him to tell you anything of substance at all, that's the true mission at hand.

"I've read that beyond that you did a number of well-received photography shoots, as well. Dabbled in music, and wrote a successful book to top it all off. How could someone whose lived so much life have so little to tell about it?"

Given the circumstances, the question is quite aggressive, and you know this to be the case. The truth of the matter, however, is that Hongjoong is far from the first difficult client that you've worked with, and that sometimes simply easing them into submission of telling you their life story isn't going to work — instead, they need to be dragged kicking and screaming along for the ride, and from where you're sitting, the artist is more certainly the latter.

Face turned down towards your phone but eyes pressed upwards to keep your vision on him, Hongjoong huffs a chuckle out through his nose before finally turning towards you and gifting you his full attention.

Leaning forward with elbows into the table, he sets his chin against folded hands. It's the first time you've really gotten a good look at him since your arrival to the property.

Sporting all of the signs of trouble and age, you don't know how old he is, though you suppose if you had to guess you'd place him somewhere around his early to mid thirties — only the finest of lines adorning his face and you can only gather that the majority of his unkempt look is a result of his unwillingness to take care of himself in a superficial, and very much present day sense.

"You want me to tell you about how hard I've had it, how difficult and tragic my life has been to explain why I'm such a shut-in," he starts, sarcastically matter of a fact in tone. It doesn't surprise you, but already you resign yourself to accepting that whatever it is that he's about to offer you is going to be of little use to you and what you've come here to do.

Falling back in his chair and with arms crossed, he looks off and to the side again to finish the thought.

"My parents loved me very much. They sent me to the school I wanted to go to and adored me in spite of everything about myself. Nothing I've ever wanted to do has come especially difficult to me, and I've found great success in nearly all of my endeavors—"

Nearly.

"—In fact, I've been quite fortunate. A bit of a bore, isn't he?"

He's wasting your time, and you've had about enough of playing Miss Nice about it. You sold your belongings to be here, gave up your apartment to be here, and your job lingers in the balance — all in relation to your being here.

'With all due respect, Mr. Kim, cut the shit,' is a thought you have, but you're not quite at the point of saying it out loud just yet.

"No demons, then?" You plainly question, not bothering to grace him with your own eyes as they remain down and towards the screen of your phone as you so boldly deliver the words to a man that is effectively a stranger to you.

"Quite the contrary," he surprisingly answers, and even with a bit of playful chime to his tone. "We all have demons, but you're going to have to catch me amidst them before you're graced by what they have to offer."

Whatever the fuck that means.

The master of the house takes his leave shortly after, deciding himself that the engagement between the two of you having met its end. In a way, you're thankful for it, now coming to the understanding of it not going anywhere, and ultimately, never having the chance to, either.

However, there is insight gained. In his attempts to wall you out, you're still very much able to begin piecing together parts of the puzzle that make him.

If one thing is for sure, it's that Hongjoong believes that the layer protecting him from you as well as the rest of the outside world is so much thicker than it really, truly is. With every word spoken and averted gaze, just another piece gained.

Sometimes the most knowledge lie in the words unspoken, rather than those given. Either way, it's a date, whether he knows it or not: see you in the late hours of the night to share a dance with the devil, as invited.

Calls with your publisher come few and far between.

You're thankful for this on account of having little actual work done thus far, but the feeling of distance between you and the people and places that you call home begins to wear on you with each passing day. Feeling locked within dark pathways that offer little joy or comfort, your patience begin to grow thin at a rapid pace, and all the while, a bubbling curiosity about the man upstairs who wishes nothing more than to have as little of your company as he can manage.

You don't see Hongjoong for over a week, but occasionally in the dead of night you're able to hear his existence through the gentle carry of piano keys down the starkly darkened hallways of the manor.

A single ring coming through, you answer your phone straight away.

The conversations grow tiresome in having to constantly explain the difficulty of the project you've accepted. Not being here, and not speaking with the man in question — your publisher simply waves off your concerns about the inevitability of failure if things continue to progress on in this fashion. 'You don't know what it's like,' being a line you find yourself delivering all too often, and only to be met with the dire voice on the other end of the line insisting that you carry on to deliver the product until the very end.

Only a handful of pages into a document on account of Hongjoong's unwillingness, you think it may come down to a battle of which of the two of you less willing to lose the war: little does he know, however, the danger of an animal backed into a corner with nothing else to be taken from them.

It's sort of dramatic, you suppose — no threat or danger to the man in question actually being presented, of course, but still — you have a job to do, and you have every intention of getting it done.

Because you have no other choice but to do so.

When your eyes part and you come back into consciousness — disoriented and much too tired to enjoy the creeping of sounds that pour into your bedroom in spite of the walls that surround your weary body, this time you make haste in dressing yourself and exiting your space — nearly bolting down the hall and towards the room in which you already know the tune to be coming from.

You've grown accustomed to it, but with little more than a bother now offering itself to you, you grow irritated by the sound of piano keys ringing through the late hours of the night. Haunting and uninviting as they may be, you still carry forward as if beckoned not only by them, but your anger at everything surrounding them — what they mean, specifically. A careless reminder from the man that your presence is not desired, and that he has no interest in or respect of your sharing a home with him.

Passive-aggressive in nature with every key into the instrument pressed. 'You're not wanted here, get out.'

Turning into the doorway and making no effort to keep yourself concealed as you normally might, you take in the sight of the man sat there with a candle lit and a bottle of wine sat atop the large, black ornament. He sways gently to a tune that barely comes to fruition by his hand — a result of the alcohol consumed, rather than the music played, you have no doubt.

"Must you do this so late into the night? Surely you know that the sound echoes through these halls."

Arms crossed, you watch on as he blankly look up towards you. Another couple of keys pressed before the ever so slight curl of a single corner of his lips takes his features.

As if pleased by the sight of you in some way.

"It's late," you add, unsure if he has any intention of replying to you at all. "Maybe you don't sleep, but I imagine the rest of us do."

"Am I bothering you?" He finally asks, as if it isn't obvious enough already.

Rolling your eyes, the irritation bubbling up within you makes itself just that much more known as a result of his annoying reply to you.

"Yes, you are bothering me, and probably everyone else stuck with the unfortunate fate of sharing a living space with you."

And for whatever reason, that response seems to please him.

"Sit."

Inhaling sharply, this is far from the time that you'd like to be engaging in this sort of scenario with him, but with so little offered to you by him, you find yourself far from the kind of position to deny him of such — knowing tomorrow to be a different day entirely, and that once sobered up and perhaps even somewhat rested, you're likely to be met with the very same and exquisitely difficult man that accompanied you into the garden, previously.

You're being given a chance, you have no choice but to take it.

Carefully stepping into the room, you make yourself comfortable in one of the large, ornate chairs off to the side but still near enough to Hongjoong that you're able to hear him speak should he be so inclined, and you figure with the invitation being offered, that the man much more willing to bestow on you an inkling of knowledge that you've been so eagerly anticipating.

Silence blanketing the room once more, you watch him as small, dainty fingers press into the keys before him into a simple but harrowing tune, as if to set the mood for the scene about to play out between the two of you here and now.

Thus, you sit in wait for the next move of the proverbial chess piece this evening.

"When I was writing my first book," he begins quietly, the words in and of themselves enough to perk your curiosity and cause for you to sit forward just ever so slightly, you listen on intently for whatever it is that Hongjoong be willing to give to you of himself. "I was living in Spain. I had a small, quiet flat just on the sea edge that I bought for the sole purpose of writing."

Wishing to have your pen and pad with you, you have no other option but to file away every movement, every word away into memory as if them being the last things you're to ever come to hear.

Hongjoong sways along with another simple tune he plays before continuing again. "About a year after I sold my last painting and gave up the craft for good. I sold my loft and all but disappeared."

"What were you running away from?" You ask, captivated by the way in which he retells the story even in spite of how general it may be.

But he only smiles at the question before parting lips again to respond to it. "Everything."

Taking pause, you think over the answer given — once again turning your attention to the nearly empty bottle of red wine perched on top of the musical instrument in front of him.

Another key pressed before you speak out into the otherwise empty air of the room.

"Why are you telling me this now?"

Hongjoong's lips curl into a soft grin once again, before turning just enough to glance over his shoulder and towards you.

"I did tell you to meet me with my demons, didn't I?"

And for the first time since your arriving at the manor, well over a month into your stay, you slowly saunter back down the hallway and towards your room — only this time, with company beside you. Hongjoong, with his evident limp to his step and hands stuffed away into the pockets of his cardigan, merely staring at the floor in front of and below his feet as the two of you make your way to the entryway of your bedroom.

Standing with your back against the dark wooden accenting of the passage, your eyes trail over the man as he still in front of you with a small wobble — only then looking up to meet your eyes.

Slightly glazed over but hiding so much mystery and enchantment behind them, you can't help but find yourself absolutely captivated by him as he stand before you like this. Unwilling to let you in, and only granting you the smallest of looks inside of him, you're well aware of the way that curiosity can manifest and shift within ones consciousness, ultimately forming into something entirely lacking of reason.

Fascination, allurement, and for some indiscernible reason, attraction. The desire to know him, to understand him — to find the pieces of him that lie fragmented and readjust them in such a way that brings him ease.

Enamored by the unknown. The broken artists curse to cast upon the unsuspecting.

"I want to talk to you again."

A bold insistence from you with little rapport built between you and the man, it gives him a chuckle at the very least. Hongjoong sways in his intoxication again, this time losing his footing just a bit more on account of his leg and pressing the palm of his hand against the wood next to your head to save himself from a most unpleasant meeting with the marble beneath both of your feet.

The sudden lurch forward has his face only mere inches away from your own — the scent of alcohol so strong you think you may end up with a buzz by mere proximity, as a result.

But more pressing than that is the way your breath catches in your throat, as well as the ever present pounding of your heart against the inside of your chest.

"Two days," you stutter out in an attempt to ignore the curiosity slipping up and permeating through your mind. "Meet me in the garden again."

Cocking his head, you watch him glance down the features of your face — not sure if towards your lips, past them, or something else entirely — but either way, in your best interest to ignore it, completely.

This not being the path you wish to walk, after all.

"Sure," he finally answers, pushing himself back up and to his feet, thus creating distance between the both of your bodies. "I'll try to be more mindful of your bizarre sleeping patterns."

And just like that, Hongjoong slowly makes his way down the hall and up the stairs towards his room. Leaving you with nothing more than the knowledge of Spain and an inexplicable mesmerism towards the man with the wine bottle and the unrelenting mystique surrounding him.  

As you watch the time on your phone shift to five minutes past two in the afternoon, you think to yourself how you had expected this.

Specifically, that it would be quite presumptuous to expect that the man show up on time. In some ways, you're a bit proud of yourself for coming to such a distinct understanding of him already with so little to go off of — Hongjoong was simply going to be late, because at the end of the day, this isn't really all that important to him. An unfortunate truth of the matter, but a truth all the same. Another thing you simply have to resign yourself to if you're to have any hopes in regards to being successful with him.

When it's twenty past, however, is when the irritation in regard to his complete lack of respect towards your time sets in.

By chance you happen to catch Rosaria out of the corner of your eye to your right as she tends to one of the numerous gatherings of flowers just nearby as you sit at the same little table in the garden as you once chatted with the man before. Calling her over, she's quick to tend to you with watering can in hand.

"Do you know if Hongjoong's been down yet?" You ask curiously, eyebrows slightly knitted together as if holding more concern than contempt.

The woman cocks her head to the side just a bit before offering you a gentle smile. A smile that says 'you poor thing,' as if you're the last one in on the joke.

"I doubt that, dear. It's a bit early."

Recalling just what time it is in the afternoon, you allow her to carry on with her chores around the land and pack your things quickly. It's certainly embarrassing to some degree, waiting here for a man who has absolutely no intention of showing up, and who seemingly has known that the entire time despite making such plans with you to begin with — beyond that, however, is sitting within the gaze of all of the passerby who are far more kept in the know about Hongjoong's personal timetables than you are.

So now, you're annoyed, and you have every intention of letting him know precisely how much.

Up the first set of winding stairs and through the hallway — a woman on a mission who certainly will see it through, as you meet the bottom of the next set, the set that you know to lead up to precisely where it is that you've been asked not to go, you realize as you stand there in pause that there is an inkling of uncertainty swimming about in your gut.

As if asking yourself once more whether or not this is something you wish to go through with. One foot on the first step, you swallow hard and inhale deeply before taking the next and following through with your decision before you have a chance to talk yourself out of it.

Reaching the top, you find little: a relatively small space compared to the rest of the expanse of the manor, just one tiny room off and to the side with book cases and a table inside from what you can tell and further in front of you — two large, tall doors that you're quite certain lead to exactly where you want to go.

And so, you do.

You suppose that the irony in it all is that by the time you get this far, you find that your anger has waned — instead replaced by unsureness and guilt in effectively trespassing.

But still, you're here, and for what it's worth you should let him know that this sort of behavior won't be tolerated. A gentle reminder needed that you're here to do a job, and you're not enjoying it any more than he is.

Your memory briefly takes you back to the moment in front of your bedroom door that night, but you shake it from yourself just as quickly.

Two hard, echoing knocks against the wood of the door, you wait to hear a response from the man who surely resides inside.

Nothing.

Two more knocks against the door, this time harder and more pointed, you wait less time afterwards to hear back from him before taking one of the dull, brass knobs into hand and twisting it open for your entry.

What you find is not anything you would have anticipated.

Along a large, red, plush couch fixture across the wide open space of the room lies Hongjoong — not asleep, and speaking, in fact.

To no one in particular.

At a glance you count three empty wine bottles strewn about the room, but that's only at quick notice, and you can't be sure how many others are cast about the place should you care to look for them.

He's drunk.

"Hongjoong," you start sternly, still standing at the door as you begin the thought. "We had a meeting, I waited for you."

Turning his head lazily, the man squints across the room towards you.

"That's right," he says, feigning having forgotten such a thing. "Could have sworn there was something on the agenda for today."

"Don't fuck with me," you spit back at him almost as quickly as the last word drops from his mouth and adding another few steps towards the man. "You don't get to disrespect me and my time. I'm here to do a job, which you have agreed to do, so get your shit together and do it."

It must have been the magic touch, because it has Hongjoong springing up and to his feet in a matter of moments with eyebrows tightly pressed together and a look of anger that you've never seen adorning him before. Granted, you haven't been around long enough to experience much emotion from the man, but this comes starkly different from anything else.

"Get out," he says as calmly as he can muster up, but the second demand of the same comes out far less controlled, more sloppy, and loud than the previous. "Get out! I don't give a fuck about you or your time, my publisher made an agreement on my behalf and I'll be damned if some stranger comes into my home and demands anything of me."

When he finally steps up to you — given his level of intoxication, you can't help but step back. After all, you don't know him well enough to have an opinion either way of what he may or may not be capable of.

Hongjoong never raises a hand to you, however. Instead, he takes the few moments of silence between the two of you to stare daggers through you with narrow, livid eyes that quite heavily adorn his lack of sleep on them.

"Get out."

It's quiet this time, almost a whisper. He takes another step towards you, closing the minimal amount of space that was already left between your bodies — as if leveraging himself in an attempt to receive precisely what it is of you that he's asking.

"You're welcomed to leave any time," he starts again, calmer now. "In fact, I insist you do so if your being here doesn't suit you."

Turning on your heel, you bolt out of the room and back down the stairs towards your room — slamming the door shut upon your entry, you sling your bag down from your shoulder and dig through the front pocket to locate your cell phone. Incredibly fast in your dialing of the person in which you wish to have the conversation with, you take three, four deep breaths to try to calm yourself back down — enough to have this conversation in any sort of a productive way.

At least, an attempt to.

Halfway through the fifth ring, you cuss under your breath and pull the device away from your face, but just as you're about to cut the call you hear a mans voice on the other line.

"Sorry, it's busy this time of day, you know how it is around here. What can I—"

You cut him off within the thought. "I'm leaving. I'm not doing this."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he says first, unable to miss the hurried concern in your voice as you quickly run about your room to gather your belongings all over again and messily toss them inside of your suitcase. "What's going on over there?"

"There's no point in my being here. This guy won't cooperate and more than that, he takes joy in the fact that I'm chasing him all around this fucking nightmare of a home in an attempt to make him!"

"You know what it means if you leave..."

Stopping everything you're doing to drive home the point of your next comment, you turn your face towards your phone as if looking directly at the man on the other line for emphases. "Did you know he's an alcoholic?"

He sighs. "I had heard some things."

Rolling your eyes and huffing out one of so many irritated sighs, you shake your head to no one but yourself as you continue corralling your things. "You send me out here to live with a strange, quick-tempered alcoholic and expect any good to come of it. I thought you were better than this."

"It was a last ditch effort, you knew that just as well as I did."

"I didn't know! And evidently you were omitting some of the finer details on purpose."

Pausing again, you close your eyes where you're knelt on the floor and take a moment to recenter yourself. There's silence between you and the man on the other end for what feels like a lifetime before he finally speaks up again, tone low and riddled with understanding.

Perhaps even guilt.

"If you want to come home you can, no one is stopping you," he says, and for some reason just those words are enough to quell the majority of your anger and concern towards the situation before he manages to finish the thought. "I just want you to understand what coming home means."

It means nothing. Quite literally. You will be coming home to nothing, and with equal amounts gained, as well.

The unfortunate truth of the circumstances that you find yourself in now is that leaving before time is up, or the writing is finished, means that it was all for nothing. Your apartment is gone, your belongings are gone, as is your career should you choose to accept failure in such a way.

So what was the point of coming here at all then?

It's with a deep sigh that you end the call with your publisher and set the phone down on the bed just beside you. With a burgundy colored blouse in hand, you shut your eyes to inhale another breath — a breath that you hope will start everything anew.

You unpack your things once again.

One late night with your eyes strained from staring at the screen of your computer and an empty stomach, the kitchen beckons you, drawing you out from the dimly lit comfort of your bedroom and down the same halls you wander through everyday to reach the very same place you've come to find yourself in numerous times before and at just about the same time of evening.

Long past the staff have taken themselves to sleep, there's an eerie calmness to the manor that causes you to feel far more alone than you typically would here. Over the weeks, you've made yourself comfortable enough, but it's times like this that you can't help but wish for the joy of a familiar face, or the bed you've long since abandoned back down the hill and into town.

But what you come to find upon turning into the dark granite adorned room is a familiar face, indeed.

With a small, crystal class of a brown liquid that you can only assume the composition of, you watch as Hongjoong tosses back something into his mouth — the way that pills of some sort are typically done — before chasing it with a swig of the drink in question.

You're only able to get a quick glance of the bottle in the other hand before he quickly slips it into the pocket of his loose, thin, cardigan — turning towards you to meet your eyes for the first time that evening.

He says nothing to you as you casually make your way to join him; pulling a glass down from the cupboard and filling it with water to drink yourself as you settle on a banana that lie out on the countertop, far from the mood to fuss with much more in the late hours of the night.

Turning to face him, your eyes connect again, and for once it feels as though Hongjoong is the one intrigued by you, rather than the other way around — though, his expression would never tell such a tale.

Relationship between the two of you damaged already and with such little foundation to keep it afloat, you're far from interested in pulling any punches as far as concern for his discomfort goes. Tipping your glass towards him as you raise it to your lips for another sip, you speak into the rim of it.

"What are those for?"

Averting his eyes, he answers plainly. "Skiing accident."

Far from the type of man to appear interested in sports of any kind, you assume the answer to be a lie — turning and exiting out of the kitchen just as quickly as you came.

On a particularly cold and dreary night, you enjoy as much of the garden as you're able before the dark clouds of a storm come rolling through the sky and blanketing the estate land with heavy rain and lightning. Hurriedly packing your things away and rushing inside, you instinctually duck at the loud clashing of thunder overhead as you take your first step back inside of the home and shut the door behind you. As the rumbling fades from your ears and you steady yourself again, instead, you take note of the all too familiar sound of piano keys being played from upstairs in the mansion.

It's earlier than his usual playing time, and for that, you are thankful. Still though, any disruption in the mans usual routine leaves you with an inkling of curiosity that only stands to be sated one way in particular.

In all of his faults, and all of his flaws, you still find that you're unable to control the insistent need to know more, understand more about the master of the manor in which you reside.

You tell yourself that that's what you're here to do, and force back any emerging thoughts that may suggest it to be anything more than that.

One thing that you can't help but note is the mans ability to play a cohesive tune tonight — as if playing with every intention of luring you to him, as you reach the hallway of your bedroom and subsequently the room where the piano reside, you're quick to realize that the music is not coming from this level of the residence at all.

Rather, it's coming from one floor up.

This revelation has you recalling one, small detail of your brief entry into his room — a piano that also sit there — pristine white in color and standing as if never touched at all, unlike the one in the room that you find yourself passing now, there is most certainly a part of you that wishes for him to be calling to you purposely. An artists call to come to him when worlds fail him, or when they're simply too difficult to make use of.

And so, you climb the staircase for the second time, and as the large doors come into view once again, you find them to be cracked open just ever so slightly. No wonder that the sound carry through the home with such ease now, you delicately press a palm to the wood and peak inside towards the direction in which you recall seeing the instrument.

There, you lay eyes on Hongjoong: clothes that appear much more freshly washed and less worn than what you typically find him in, he sways gently along with the tune that comes to pass as a result of his deft fingers against the keys. Eyes closed, you think him to be long since lost in a world of his own by now, perhaps not expecting any visitors, after all.

Still, you're pleased by the sight of him here, like this. Seemingly not as intoxicated as he usually is by this time of night and able to express himself clearly with the sound of the piano before him.

A melancholy tune that in spite of everything feels sad.

"You can come in."

Heart jumping into your throat at the sound of his voice and having evidently been caught, you make your way inside and slowly towards the man, watching him intently along the way.

"Beautiful song."

Truth be told, you're not sure how better to open up the dialogue, and for what it's worth, you could simply stand here and watch him play in complete silence all night long if the option presented itself to you.

His lips take into a soft smile at the words. "When I lived in Hong Kong for a few years, I met a woman there who owned the building I was staying in. My second book — rather, what was supposed to be my second book — was all about her. We fell in love hard and fast, ironically, the kind of romance you read about in literature."

"What happened?"

"What always happens," he answers back without missing a beat. Finally, Hongjoong opens his eyes to meet yours before finishing his response. "Life."

A gentle reel at the lack of response, you push further. "What does that mean?"

Chuckling under his breath at your insistence, the man blinks slowly as if resigned to the necessity of answering your questions in some capacity.

"An old friend tells me I display fearful-avoidant attachment style."

A bizarre reply, but now that you have him talking, you can't possibly allow the moment to get away from you. It feels a bit like a maze that you're navigating — always given the smallest amount, and perhaps in hopes that you're willing to find out more.

"Is your friend in any position to be diagnosing you?"

"He's in some position."

Allowing the topic to fall to the wayside, you instead watch on as Hongjoong sways gently to the tune, but it's much less time than anticipated by you before the man is parting his lips to speak out to you again.

"Can I ask you something?"

The question takes you aback, but quickly you nod in acceptance.

"Why do you stay?"

Turmoil bubbling ever so slightly in your gut as you listen to his question, there is of course the most obvious answer. The one that realistically — the both of you already know to be the answer to his inquiry.

However, his presentation of the question at all alluding to the fact that he thinks there to be far more hidden behind the guise of the sake of literature.

A chill down your spin as a result of feeling so raw and exposed before a man who has all but made no effort to know you at all — still yet understanding so much without the information ever truly being granted to him. Fingertips cold to the touch, you clench them tightly into your palm for the warmth offered there as you make the choice that Hongjoong will almost certainly see right through.

"I have to write this book."

And as if never having asked the question to begin with, Hongjoong beckons you towards him with a simple and quiet "come."

Walking towards him as he slides further down the length of the bench, you seat yourself down next to him with ample enough space between the both of your bodies — only for the man to press towards you once again, and close the distance so quickly that it has your head spinning.

A dizzying discomfort that comes from the unknown, every moment with Hongjoong feels exciting as well as terrifying — the image of him drunk and angry still burned into your immediate memory even now, despite his sobriety in this current span of time.

But with a delicate touch, the artists hands come up and over top of yours as you lightly place them over the keys of the piano — hands soft in a way that would allude to having had a particularly luxurious life — you know this to not be far from the case, but still, it's the scent of cinnamon that exudes off of him as a result of your close proximity that has a surprisingly bewildering effect on you.

"Do you know how to play?"

"No," you answer rapidly, and with a voice far more shaky than you would have liked. "Was never any good at the arts outside of writing."

Smiling softly, Hongjoong takes control of your hands as you slowly begin to play a tune with the help of his talented fingers. "Writing is the most beautiful of them all, you're lucky to have been gifted that one in particular."

Nerves beginning to quell as a result of his words, you quietly exhale a laugh before responding to the remark.

"And some people are the chosen favorites who get to have it all, aren't they?"

You don't really think twice about the playfully honest remark before it leaves your mouth, but as your head turns to face him you become starkly aware of how close he is to you now. With the both of you facing one another and only a few inches between your faces, you watch Hongjoong's eyes as they once again dip down from yours and to some place lower between you — almost certainly your lips, and in a way that has you nearly trembling within his grasp as silence cascades down and around the both of you in the aftermath of the all too illuminating compliment towards him.

Moments that feel like a lifetime, you think you could write countless books about this alone.

Hongjoong's eyes suddenly shift, pulling his gaze from your own and distancing himself from you just ever so slightly before his hands slip back and away from your own.

"Yes, well," he nervously says after clearing his throat. "Not everything."

You think back to the one word so deliberately excluded from the text of his novel as you drift off to sleep in the empty comfort of your own bed that night.

As the days carry on, your documentation of your time spend on the premises begins to shift in shape and form.

Far from a conscious decision, your musings about the man and your time spend with him take form in a diary-like feature of what it's like being within his company. It's an effort to bring forth some sort of understanding of what it is, exactly, that is taking place in the here and now of your shared accommodation.

More than that, however, it grants you the ability to be honest with yourself, and the distinct emergence of feelings for the master of the estate.

It doesn't come without guilt, however. You're aware enough to understand the romanticization of his pain and struggle. Something ugly and dark within Hongjoong that brings about such a violent desire within yourself to care for him. A broken man with his fair share of demons that he's more than happy to present on full display for you — it feels as though it's the rawest form of intimacy shared between two people, and something that he would quite possibly never be willing to share with anyone else.

Show me the worst things about yourself, so that I can love them in spite of everything.

There's nothing beautiful about pain. Rather, an inevitability that all people will eventually possess. You don't want to fix him, and you know you can do no such thing, anyway. Instead, you find yourself clinging not to the actions themselves, but what the actions mean behind it all. Pulling back the curtain of Hongjoong's willingness to divulge himself to you only under the most specific circumstances — not for the book, and without notebook in hand, you can see as plain as day what really lies there behind it all: a man that wishes to be heard, but only by you, not by the world.

"So, tell me what happened with your second book."

The first time you get Hongjoong sat down for a proper interview is in the open living space next to the kitchen.

Large, cozy chairs and a plush love seat just next to the crackling warmth of the fireplace, Hongjoong sits with a glass of wine in hand as he stares off into the nothingness past your head. You wait patiently for whatever it is that the man may bestow upon you — suppose, the likelihood of him mentally picking and choosing what details he wish to divulge all for the purpose of a write up as he sits across from you along the room in silence.

Nothing but the sound of wood burning and the gentle ticks of a large, antique clock set opposite of him and next to the fire.

Lips parting ever so slightly and long before words move to leave them, Hongjoong continues his gaze out and into the air surrounding you.

"There is no 'second book,' in all likelihood, there never will be one."

The response doesn't come as a shock to you, however. Halfway anticipating as much, you find yourself a bit proud of having already arrived at the point before his allowing you in.

"Why not?" You follow up, eyes down to the pad and pen sat in your lap. "It's lined up from your publisher, surely he doesn't know that you have no intention of ever writing another one."

The response pulls a chuckle from the man on the love seat across the way.

"No, I suppose he doesn't," he acknowledges, lips pressed to the rim of his glass. "To be completely honest with you, I'm not entirely sure where 'I don't want to write another book,' and 'I'm unable to write another book' begin and end."

Startling honesty from the man, but not unlike your usual bouts with him. So long as he has the comfort of alcohol to guide him along his way.

Scribbling on the paper, your eyes remain glued to it. "Your first was incredibly well-received, surely you have the ability, no?"

Hongjoong responds quickly to that. "My first book was an accident. Rather than a book it was a diary, I never wrote it with intent to have the world read it."

"Then why have they?"

"You'll have to believe me when I say that I'm not entirely sure," he says with another sip of wine. "Being young and acting out of impulse, I suppose. I used to think that I had everything to offer the world, that every thought that came to mind was so brilliant it would be a crime not to share it."

"You don't believe that anymore?"

Hongjoong laughs at the question. "No. Rather, I think that every thought I have serves as another shackle in the containment of my mind, like a prison."

A painfully honest self-assessment, and all too evident of where it derives from. You shift uncomfortably in your chair, unsure of how to proceed with this line of questioning despite it being almost everything that you came here for.

But it's a delicate path. For a man that's already exposed so much of himself to the world, is it too much to ask of him to detail his suffering just that much further?

"How is your mental health?"

With an eyebrow perked up, Hongjoong's eyes pull to the side to land on you now — as if amused by the forwardness of the question.

"—In relation to your ability to work," you amend.

"I've always struggled here or there, but don't we all."

"I don't think most people would refer to their brain as a prison."

"Would they not?" He hums, as if never previously having considered the fact. "How pleasant for them, then."

Leaning forward, Hongjoong takes into hand the bottle of wine placed on the glass table between the both of you, tipping it to fill his glass once more. Settling with his back against the seat again, his eyes once again find their way to you.

All the while, you doing your best not to cast your own upon him.

"And what about you?" he asks suddenly, a particularly loud pop of the fireplace nearly startling you out of your thoughts. "How did you end up here?"

Clearing your throat, you offer him a gentle albeit slightly uncomfortable smile. "I'm not the one getting the book written about them."

"Anyone can have a book written about them," he states plainly, and quite evidently speaking from incredibly painful, personal experience. "Just depends on what you're willing to do to play the protagonist in someone else's story."

"I don't intend on being much more than a fly on the wall."

"Then simply entertain the idea of it," he sighs with a contented close of his eyes, as if basking in the ambiance of the dimly illuminated room. "You know everything about me."

Doubtful.

Regardless, shifting in your seat slightly, you set the paper and pen down onto the table in front of you and make yourself a bit more comfortable where you sit. As silence blankets the room between the two of you, you think carefully about what it is that you wish to make him privy to. Information that cannot be taken back, and cannot be unlearned — you realize the care and difficulty in parsing through answers such as this, and as a result, you begin to understand his reluctance in truly sitting down with you for moments such as these.

"It's probably hard for you to understand from your position, but the art of writing is a bit lost on the people, nowadays."

Pausing, you glance up past Hongjoong's head, instead focusing in on a painting of the garden out back behind the house. A beautiful, watercolor piece that you have half a mind to ask the man if he has painted. Maybe another day.

"I do journalism and I enjoy it, but it's a bit of a dying craft, I suppose," you awkwardly chuckle. The pain of admitting defeat sitting bitterly on your tongue with every word you utter. "Publisher sent me out here as sort of a last ditch effort to hit it big with something to save the wing."

"People only enjoyed my book because they enjoy reading about other peoples suffering," Hongjoong responds quickly, pulling one side of his cardigan over his chest and closer to himself. "Nothing makes us feel better about ourselves and our lives than the hyperawareness of someone else's tragedy. If my diary had been about how happy and in love I was for all of those years, do you really think it would have been as read? Of course not. The acclaim it received was because, for once, people got to have a glimpse inside the mind of a suicidal man without any of the responsibility of being there."

Mulling over the words, you part your lips to respond only for him to add onto the thought before you're able.

"It is a dying craft, and the only thing keeping it afloat is the alluring promise of death itself."

The addition has you swallowing down any words you might have thought to express as a result of his musings. You find irony in this being his most revealing, and perhaps most honest retelling of his experience writing the words found in the diary — off of the back of insisting that you bare a bit of your soul for him to see.

You can't help but wonder how much of yourself can be found in precisely the person he be referring to, now.

Silence befalls the otherwise empty room again, and as Hongjoong leans forward to set his glass down against the table, the both of you glance up to one another for your eyes to catch through the blissful flickering of the fireplace light. His descent back into a more lazed position is slow, calculated — as if contemplating his next move in real time. He's thinking, that much is certain, but nothing could have prepared you for the next utterance out of the mans mouth.

"Come here."

And you hesitate at the quiet request. Words spoken from under his breath and meant for your ears alone as if surrounded by onlookers — it feels like a secret, something that he shouldn't be asking of you and that you almost certainly should not grant him. Yet, you do.

Sliding across the floor towards him as he presses himself further to the side to make room for you, his eyes don't falter from you for even a second as you make your way to him and seat yourself beside him — a gentle hand coming up to lightly cradle your cheek as you do — the feeling of his fingertips against your skin is electrifying, but not even half as much as the uninterrupted gaze between your eyes as you sit still and anticipatory for what's to happen next.

Leaning ever so slightly towards you, Hongjoong whispers into the warm evening air again. "You remind me a bit of someone."

"Someone from your book?" You bravely ask, but the question seems not to deter him as his focus drops down to your lips as it has so many times before.

"Yes."

A single finger under your chin and a delicate tip of your face upwards, he leans in so impossibly slowly that you think it all to be happening in slow motion. Mind racing a million miles a second, you know that this is not a line that should be crossed for a plethora of reasons — but even with that knowledge; eyes fluttering to a close and limpness taking you as you fall desperately under the mans spell from within his grasp, you await the moment that you suppose you've been allowing yourself to fantasize about for far too long, already.

"Is there anything I can—oh."

An unfamiliar voice chiming out from the kitchen area that has the both of your heads turning in an instant, as well as Hongjoong's hand pulling away from you just as quickly. You come to find one of the late night staff standing there — just as uncomfortable with the sight stumbled upon as you are for having been swept up in it, you're the first to clear your throat and stand from the small sofa with intention to create distance between you and the man in question.

"I should get to bed, it's late," you insist with a nervous beat as shaking hands rush to gather your belongings from the table. "Thank you for your time."

Shuffling off towards the exit, you don't look back on account of already knowing what you'll find. The intense gaze of him felt on your figure until you're well removed from the scene, as you finally reach your bedroom, you all but slam the door shut as if having been chased by the guilt of getting caught up in the moment. Back leaned against the wood and heart beating hard within your chest, you clutch tightly to the notepad you had been taking notes on — only one question swimming through your mind now.

What are you doing here?

With the deadline for the project drawing near, calls from your publisher begin coming in far more frequently, and often go ignored by you.

Every message is the same: time is running out, how far along are you, how is it all coming? His insistence on being involved in a project now that the hands of time are ticking unfavorably when earlier he preferred to be far more hands-off in your experienced turmoil related not lost on you by any means — you can't help but notice the voicemails becoming more and more harrowing and stressed.

All the same, until the most recent one.

'The deadline is right around the corner now, at this point if you're not just about finished it's best if we dump the project entirely and I'll try to find something quicker that we can turn around in hopes to buy us more time.'

You know this to be a lie, the man having already divulged the doom of your sector prior.

It's only to this message that you finally feel it necessary to type up a response.

'I'm close. I'll stay a bit longer to see this thing through.'

And you know this not to be enough. Not enough information, and not enough reason to believe that this thing should eventually see the light of day. The truth of the matter is that you're not close, either. Rather, it's a bid for time in not having to leave, as the project ending in turn results in your time spent with the master of the manor also ending.

A stay that revolved around a piece of writing that has now transformed into something entirely of its own making, and almost completely out of your hands, despite those hands being the driving force of it.

You can't leave — for numerous reasons, but the ubiquitous desire to see this thing through being at the helm of it, all the same.

On one particularly dreary night, you allow your inhibitions to get the best of you.

With laptop open and half a bottle of white wine down, as you glance at the time you come to the realization that you've been sat in the same spot, doing this precise same thing for well over a reasonable amount of hours time. The awareness of such also bringing to your senses the stiff state of your back and shoulders has you leaning into your chair for a long, wide stretch of your arms over you head, as well as a groaning yawn escaping your mouth and to be heard by no one but yourself.

A little more intoxicated than you usually tend to be when you do your writing and cursing yourself for the amount of revisions you'll most likely have to do the next day as a result, you stand from your chair as you shut the device and begin your journey to your window for some fresh air, only to reconsider it entirely and settle on a late night stroll through the residence. Well enough past the hours in which the staff would be bustling along the halls — the place is yours for the taking, and relatively uninterrupted, at that.

You can use the mobility, that much is certain.

Slipping on your robe and house shoes, you turn the knob of your bedroom door and gently pull it open — slipping out through the smallest crack is if with intent to not be caught in spite of not doing anything wrong. You attribute it to being caught drinking on the job, in ways — you're a professional, after all, and this is most certainly not the way you typically conduct yourself as far as work goes.

Then again, a lot of professional lines have been blurred, if not crossed entirely during your time here.

And with your back to the hall as you quietly pull the door shut, only the faintest of clicks sounds off. You're thankful for that.

"You're up late."

The voice is low and despite it's familiarity has you just about shrieking into the night, anyway. Head snapping to the side to find Hongjoong standing there with a particularly knowing glint in his eye, you bite back the whine of having been found out like this and instead stand proud and tall in front of him — perhaps even in hopes that he not find out about the deeds you've been up to behind closed doors.

"Drinking on the job?"

Shit.

This groan is audible now as you let down the facade and slump into visible regret at your actions, but Hongjoong only laughs at the sight before him. "And while working on a book about me? I fear for what may come of that when it goes out to the presses."

You know he's being playful, but the humiliation runs through you all the same.

"It's not like that," you sigh, rolling your eyes. "I mean, it is like that, but it's hardly that bad. Give me some credit."

Rather than a verbal response, his vision upon you remains in silence as he watches you squirm from beneath it. The temperature of your skin seemingly white hot as a result of your chance meeting — eyes that once laid upon him now pulling away entirely in favor of absolutely anything else that could have your attention at that moment.

"Can't a man express concern for the way he may be perceived through someone else's eyes?"

Closing of the distance just ever so slightly having gone unnoticed, as the words leave him you can't help but look back towards him, but only to find him much closer than he was only seconds prior.

The tension is palpable, and here like this — no chance of being stumbled upon, either.

Allowing your figure to lazily fall back and against the door, Hongjoong follows suit in caging you in with one arm — only this time, instead of averting your eyes, you make it a point to watch him so intently that you may very well stare straight through his soul.

You can't help but wonder if that be precisely what he's hoping for, after all.

He doesn't touch you this time, other hand dangling to his side as his head dips down to once again close the distance between the two of you. There's a distinct pause — as if silently requesting that you be sure of the decision going forward. An act that will almost certainly change everything, and if you know anything about him as a result of your time spent getting to know him, as far as he's concerned: a change that will do you more harm, than good.

You wonder if he's asking you to be better than him, without the verbal expression of such. You pretend you don't hear his silent insistence either way as his lips finally meet your own.

A kiss that's far more gentle than you might have expected it to be — as if worried that you may crumble and break as a result of his touch, instead, you lean into him further — fingers reaching up and into the thin fabric of his cardigan and gripping tightly to hold him firmly in place as his teeth ghost across your bottom lip before slowly pulling apart from you entirely.

"Chardonnay," he whispers all but against your mouth, and propped up by his forearm pressed into the door behind you, you feel his fingers begin to curl stands of loose hair around them. "Good choice."

But truth be told, you don't care about any of this now. Only a couple of glasses down through the wine bottle offering you the slightest inkling of intoxication, you find the most inebriating of all being the feeling of his flesh against your own.

And with this barrier broken, you desire more. A slippery slope of doings that can't be undone.

Leaning up and against his mouth again, your lips part to whisper into him.

"I want you."

Hongjoong stiffens within your grasp in that moment and you worry that he may remove himself from your grasp entirely. He doesn't, but his answer to your request remain far from the desired outcome, too.

"No."

But with him here and against you like this, you can feel the internal fight within himself. A constant back and forth of wanting, desiring, distrusting, and most of all — self-preservation.

"You don't," he amends the initial decline of your advances, slowly pulling away from your body and creating space between you. "Get some rest, it's late."

And with that, you watch the man slowly limp down the hallway and up the stairs towards his room. Never once looking back towards you, nor faltering in his decision to do so, and as your heart finally comes to a more reasonable pace within you, you contemplate all of the ways in which this has gone to hideously awry.

Outrageously out of your hands. How did you get here, and most of all, how have you fallen for him in spite of everything?

The night of the eve of your intended departure you find something entirely inexplicable that summons you to the highest floor of the manor.

Slow, quiet footsteps that feel as though they drag with every stride — there's a heavy hang in your heart as a result of the infrequency in which you and the master stumble upon one another's company through the dark halls since the passing of your fleeting physical exchange.

It reminds you starkly of how unreachable he was when you first arrived: stricken with terror at someone present in his space. A man intentionally locked away so that he can remain unshared and unseen by the world, only for those very same walls to slowly crumble down before you — one by one.

Now? Nothing. Neither empty wine glass nor pressed piano key through the darkness of night.

The doors are closed to his bedroom, and upon offering two knocks, you are once again met with silence just as the time before.

Your slow entrance into the large, lavish room allows you to take in the sights of it now in a way that you hadn't before: massive, white marble walls and flooring lining the space with plush, white fur rugs beside the enormous and perfectly made and couch. You think that for a man relatively unkempt in appearance, it's bizarre for him to have a personal space so alarmingly and beautifully unlived in.

Moreover, the man is no where in sight — heard, however, is the distinct wretch of a person who most likely lies bent over the once pristine porcelain of their toilet bowl.

"Hongjoong?" You call, unaware of the location of the bathroom but allowing your feet to carry you in what you think to be the direction of the sound previously heard nonetheless, your heart drops at the mere idea of what it is that you may stumble upon, but nevertheless, you have to go.

What you find, you worry to be the rawest form of himself on display for you, yet.

The litter of white, oval pills across the navy blue tiling of the bathroom floor — so bright and stark in contrast — is what catches your attention first.

"You shouldn't be here."

The words come out in a choked groan, throat raw from vomiting from what you can only suspect to be a toxic concoction of substances that shouldn't dare mix within his stomach.

As your eyes turn up to settle upon Hongjoong — throat tight at the sight — your eyebrows knit together as you step over the spillage of medicine and towards him. He sits back against the walling next to the toilet with sunken, dark eyes and brown hair matted to his damp, sweat-sheened forehead; barely able to focus on the sight of you bending down to him at all.

"Hongjoong," you say again, this time in barely more than a concerned whisper as your hands take his face into them. "Christ, are you alright? I'm going to call someone—"

"Don't," he groans, more out of perceived inconvenience of dealing with such a thing rather than much else as a result of it. "They've seen it all before, I'm fine."

"What do you mean you're fine?" You insist with worry still more than evident in your voice. "You're sick, you—"

But saying the words, and the implications behind them makes it far too real. Something that you've known all the while having been here now made all too evident in front of you now.

Some demons simply unwilling to go ignored for too long, and always waiting to make themselves known.

"Oh, come off it," Hongjoong chuckles as he pulls his head away and from your grasp. "You've never drank too much?"

"Not alone in my room, and not mixing painkillers with it, either."

"Then consider yourself lucky."

With little more to say, you step back and away from him as he slowly makes his way back to his feet and towards the sink — faucet on and with a rinse of his mouth, you watch him all while he carries on as if the scenario that you've stumbled upon isn't something to be given another thought about. Eyes meeting in the reflection of the mirror and with concern still lacing your features, you watch Hongjoong's eyes roll before rinsing and spitting water into the sink for the last time.

"What?" he finally asks, hurriedly and with irritation evident in his tone. "What do you want me to say? That I'm an addict? That I'm fucked up and this is how I manage it?"

You don't know how to answer those questions. He carries on through your silence, turning from the reflection in the mirror to face you head on instead.

"Here's the truth then, so you can hate me: when I was twenty-seven, I drank too much one night — like I always did when I drank. My wife and I got into a blowout fight — like we always did when I drank. In my fit of drunken stupidity I slipped down the stairs and injured my leg so irreparably that I'm in constant pain. Everyday. For the rest of my life."

Hearing the way he chokes up as he recalls the evening in question, and how his eyes now find themselves incapable of resting upon your own, you wait in silence for him to finish. All the while regretful for the scene that you have stumbled upon.

"I take these so that maybe for a few minutes each day I don't have to feel the constant reminder of all of the ways that I've failed, and I drink when I remember it all, regardless."

As the last word leaves his mouth, silence comes between the two of you like a wall. Unsure of what to say, you simply offer nothing.

He speaks again, as if uncomfortable with the lack of response.

"Isn't this what draws you to me?" Hongjoong asks with a slight sneer. "Are you not pleased? Even more than before?"

"No!" You all but yell in retaliation, biting back the tears that threaten to emerge from bloodshot eyes.

For a single moment, it seems to be enough of to placate him as his features soften at the sound of your broken voice.

"Hongjoong," you whisper, eyes glancing up towards him now for the first time since the beginning of your exchange. And reaching a hand out towards him, he lays eyes on it — following the length of your arm up with his gaze to meet you.

"Let's get you to bed."

With a new set of clothes on you watch closely as Hongjoong slowly settles into bed and between his dark vermillion sheets — patting the bed twice as to insist that you join him, you crawl on just as carefully as the man had previously, making yourself comfortably on top of the duvet as you watch him from your place on your side.

"That was the first time I've ever heard you mention your wife."

Blinking slowly, he lies there in stilled silence as if to allow the words to wash over him.

"We were a good bit younger when we met, and I don't think either of us were really ready for it, either," he starts with a sigh, staring almost longingly up towards the ceiling ahead. "We both hurt each other tremendously, and I think sometimes you just can't come back from some things no matter how much you try."

"Did you love her through it all?" you ask through a quiet whisper, watching the way he smiles at the inquiry before turning his head to look at you.

"Endlessly. Pitifully, excruciatingly. But I was never able to forgive her, and in spite of her forgiveness, I created more reasons to make her hate me."

Turning back towards the ceiling, Hongjoong sighs aloud. "She loved me for everything I was, and in spite of everything. I repaid her in forcing her to watch my self-destruction, my alcoholism, and inevitably the downfall of our marriage."

"Did you ever learn to forgive her? Even after everything?"

He smiles again.

"No."

Painfully and tragically honest in his flaws, you watch Hongjoong drift to sleep that night from next to him on his bed — and as tiredness threatens to take you soon after, you can't help but think of all of the ways in which people torment one another all for the promise of love. That love, in essence, is violence.

You find that the morning light seems to shine differently in this room as you gently come into consciousness — still dressed in all of your clothing from the night before and no more nestled into the covers than you were when you first lied next to him.

In the very next moment, you startle to the sound of the doors to the bedroom loudly swinging open, and three women entering the room to begin their morning routines. However, it's the sight of shock on their face that has you reeling — a quick understanding of precisely how this looks with Hongjoong resting next to you and only barely beginning to stir to life on account of the noise now.

"I-It's not—" you start, weary and stuttering out the words as you sit up in bed. You know that they can see you very well from where they stand, but regardless you feel it necessary to make a point in showing just how fully dressed you still remain at this time of morning. "I just...we fell asleep, it's not—"

You hear Hongjoong grumble a laugh into the pillow beneath his face.

"S-sorry, we'll come back," one of the staff insists with a bow before ushering the other women out along with her and closing the doors behind them.

Their exit, while bringing you comfort, can't undo the humiliation of what's already been done.

Feeling the man beside you stir just that much more, you turn your head towards him to meet his sleepy eyes — a wide grin pulling at his dry lips.

"What's funny?" You ask him calmly and playfully, lying yourself back down against a pillow to look at him. A moment to take in the sight of him in a new and enchanting way: that slope of his nose and the beautiful narrowness of his eyes — the all too apparent and slightly bewitching upturn of his lips that has you wishing for not much else than to feel them on your own once again.

Blinking slow as if taking in the sight of you all the same, Hongjoong groans slightly on the likely account of a hangover before pulling himself closer towards you and once again lightly pressing his lips to your own.

"You," he whispers against your mouth. "This."

"I have work to do," you say with flirtation to your tone, nestling further into him despite your words. In turn, Hongjoong finds one of your hands in his own, bringing it up between both of your faces and ghosting over your knuckles with the lightest feathering of kisses.

"I think for once, I do, as well."

Your heart feels full as you close those doors behind you upon your exit — a beating excitement in relation to this budding romance, or whatever the case may be — you know it well enough to be ill-advised and that you can't fix him. Quite the contrary, however, you don't wish to fix him, at all. For all of the flaws worn on Hongjoong's sleeve, you feel a growing adoration for the man just that much more. Someone so willing to be themselves, of course, you understand it to be the case that he's rather incapable of anything more or less, you quite simply look back upon your time first entering the estate, and how things have manifested over time and as a result of your engagements together.

Truthfully, it's treacherous waters, and you know well enough that you're engaging in behaviors that you shouldn't be. You have no intention of damaging the man any further, but you suppose no one ever really does.

No intention to fix him, and no intention to worsen him: you're going to have to do some deep inner searching for precisely what it is that you wish to achieve by involving yourself with him.

Regardless, the way your heart beats for him in his presence is not one easily ignored. There's nothing beautiful about peoples damage — it does not make them better or more alluring — but damaged people are more than their trauma, as well.

Strolling into the kitchen, you pull a large, white mug down from the cabinet, and as you pour yourself some coffee to start your day, you hear the quiet rumbling of one of the members of staff from behind you. Turning, you meet eyes with Rosaria, only for her to quickly pull from your gaze and seemingly hurry along with the tasks that bring her within your presence.

An unusual air between the two of you: someone who once met you so warmly, your eyebrows knitting together in slight confusion, you verbally greet her as if to test the waters, only for her to greet you back in what could only be described as the bare minimum of nicety required of her by employment.

You don't push it, instead taking your mug into hand and making your way back through the archway. However, it's then that her words seemingly catch up with her mind, speaking out before you exit in full.

"You shouldn't be involved with him like this."

Already well aware of what it is that she's referring to, you merely still in place, slowly turning towards the woman to face her and to take in the sights of a worried complexion. Eyes glued down to the marble floor beneath her feet after allowing the words to leave her, you don't answer her.

Frankly, you're not sure what to say — in part, because you know the woman to be right.

Inhaling sharply to speak again, Rosaria sighs first. "This is not going to end well, he is not well."

You know.

And instead of arguing the point, you turn back and carry yourself up the stairs in outward silence; mind racing with unending screams of doubt about the ethical and moral validity of your being here at all.

As the days carry on, you find the passage of time comes to feel more like an arbitrary concept.

Contact from your publisher waning with every day past the deadline, you inevitably forgo checking your phone for messages at all. It comes as a relief with your mind muddled with all of the other thoughts that occupy the space there: what are you doing? What should you be doing? And perhaps most pressing of all, what will you do?

And more than that even, where does the man of the manor stand on the matter?

Entering your room late one evening with little more than the glow of the moon illuminating the room, your eyes catch on something particularly out of place in regards to your belongings: atop your closed notebook lies a piece of paper, and stepping closer upon inspection you find it to be a note — scribbled with messy, lazy writing.

A beckoning for you to meet them in the garden that night.

Carefully sneaking through the dark halls and out through the beautifully sparkling glass doors, you make your way down the same cement steps that you have so many times prior, only this time, a new air of excitement shrouding your every movement. Feeling as though you're doing something you shouldn't dare be doing as you make your way past perfectly kept greenery and flowers towards the very same table under that large tree that you've come to grow so fond of, you can't help rushing towards that place in hopes of not wasting so much as a second of time before meeting the person you're intending to meet.

Like fated, secret lovers: not meant to have or hold, and against all odds.

Eyes laying upon him as he stand there gazing out into the cool, night sky — there's a snap of a twig from beneath your foot that alerts him of your presence, and as a result, you watch him turn to cast his eyes upon you with a gentle smile. Stilling beside him to look out into the same sky with him, for once, you find yourself enjoying the very same silence shared between you — now in a new, enchanting way. Something that once brought you contention now offering a sort of comfort despite it never having changed, at all.

"Quite a mess this has turned into, hasn't it?"

And while not entirely sure of what it is that he's referring to, you're most certainly able to make your best guess. 'This,' the concept of it and all that it entails — the goings on between the both of you in some sort of hidden and relatively unspoken on engagement.

You opt out of a verbal response, instead allowing the words to linger in the air between you.

Because yes, it most certainly has.

Sneaking back into the house together as to not alert the staff of your being together — two adults more than capable of making decisions for themselves and yet still feeling as if under the judgmental, watchful eye of the people around them, Hongjoong takes your hand as he all but drags you through the halls and up the stairs towards the both of your rooms. Quiet, muffled giggles and you nearly tripping on the last step as you attempt to follow closely behind him, the both of you pause only for a second — Hongjoong's back against the wall as he pulls that all too familiar pill bottle from his coat pocket and shoves an undisclosed amount of the capsules into his mouth.

You choose not to comment on it. What good does it do, anyway?

Your understanding does little to quell the bubbling sadness that manifests deep in your chest, however.

Slipping into your bedroom through your barely cracked door, you finally allow yourself the full-bodied laugh previously bitten back during your endeavors with the man. Hongjoong's back leaned up and against the shut wood, the two of you look towards one another once again and this time — perhaps for the first time for sure — you find adoration for you there.

Dimmed lighting and the comforting offering of a chilled breeze in through your cracked window, you make your way towards the vanity perched next to the bathroom door frame. Hands reaching up towards the back of your neck to unclasp your necklace, you find it to be caught into the threading of the light cardigan you adorned yourself with prior to meeting with the man, and with a gentle, frustrated huff Hongjoong already begins his journey across the room and towards you for aid.

"This thing always gets stuck," you bemoan, delicately attempting to pull the items from one another without breaking one or the other. "I keep forgetting not to wear them together."

"Stop," he all but whispers as he stills behind you, hands coming up to brush yours and to take over the task with better ease. "Let me do it."

But time feels as though it comes to a stand still with his presence over you like this: the feeling of his fingers brushing against your sensitive flesh, and the ability to feel the warmth of his breath from his stance behind you so wildly intoxicating despite offering so little. As you feel the delicate retrieval of your jewelry from its confines and him carefully sleeping it to the front of your neck to allow your full removal, as you set the item down on the wooden furniture before you it's that very moment that you feel the light press of familiar lips against the exposed skin of your shoulder.

Talented hands carefully pressing the thin fabric further down your arms and out of the way for him to access you, with your head lolled to the side and eyes closed to truly take in the feeling of him like this you find all worries, all concerns, and all reluctance swept out the very same window that the fresh scent of flowers billows in from.

But more than that, one of his hands doesn't stop on it's journey downward: snaked across the front of you and slowly dipping down into the fabric of your pants, it feels like a lifetime in the making when he finally touches you like this. One, single finger pressed against you as if only to test the waters — you melt into his touch as he delivers slow, methodical circles in place. Knees already threatening to give out beneath you even at as little as what he offers you now, you focus on the way his lips drag across your skin, no more hurried now than before — as if a man living out a moment that he hopes will never end, enjoying every inch, every second of you here like this with him.

And just as abruptly, he gently pulls himself away from you. The loss of him feeling so starkly cold, as if never having been there against you at all.

Turning to look at him, more than anything else evident on his face, there is guilt. Eyes once again averted from your own, as if having just done something so horrible he can't stand facing you for it, you watch him as he gently shakes his head before speaking.

"I'm...sorry," he quietly offers, nearly a mumble under his breath.

"Why?" Is all you can muster up in the moment, his reluctance in being with you bubbling up some rather unforeseen, painful feelings that you were so sure you had buried deep enough within you already.

It's not the physicality of it, not really. It's the unwillingness, the terror — all that it represents and the feelings that go unspoken as a result of it.

Perhaps even the last wall. That, and the word unwritten.

"It's not a good idea," he sighs, eyes finally pulling up and meeting your own. "I think you know that."

"Hongjoong—"

It slips out suddenly, hurriedly, and with desperation lacing your tone. The both of you give pause at the sound of his name uttered. Watching him stand completely still in front of you, waiting for the rest of your thought, you suppose you have no choice but to take the leap.

He won't do it first, that much you are certain of.

"I...love you."

You're not even sure that this much is true, at least, not yet. In the moment it feels right, and sometimes you figure life simply must be lived in singular moments.

We never know when we're to run out of them, after all.

Eyebrows slowly pulling together as he watches you and listens to the words, you can't help but think that he looks as though he feels pain at the utterance of them. A reminder of a time not long enough ago that still weight so sorrowfully heavy on his heart that perhaps even as much as the idea of living through such a thing again proving to be too much of a risk for the man to take.

Swallowing hard, Hongjoong blinks slowly once before parting lips that once pressed love upon you, as well.

"I think you should leave."

Too stunned to speak out against the demand, you can only watch on as he exits your room in otherwise silence, and as you fall asleep that night you wonder if he is attempting to find comfort in the ever present stinging inside of your throat, as well.

The next day feels uncomfortably like the first.

With there no longer being any evidence of the mans being there in the same house in which you both reside, the halls that over time had begun to soften and brighten to you once again feel cold and dark in a way that feels just as unfamiliar as the first time you walked them. Staff members that once greeted you with warm, kindness now quickly averting their eyes from you the moment of their meeting, you come to find that far more quickly than anticipated — your time here has come to an end.

That very same evening and with bags nearly packed to their entirety, as you scroll through your phone and attempt to drift off to sleep, your attention is brought to the shuffling of light from the crack beneath your door. Footsteps stilled in front of the wooden opening, your heart stutters just the same — a silent calling to who it is that you know to be waiting on the other side.

But he does not come, nor does he call to you.

On the morning of the next day you're awoken by the loud, jarring sounds of a violent storm taking the land. A car that was meant to come for you and take you from this place now no longer willing to offer itself to you, you have no other option but to remain within a place that no longer sees any need or desire for your being there. It feels tragic, and the way that sorrow hangs in your gut is ever present as the hours drag on long into nightfall — nothing more to do that empty your thoughts out into the document that has now transformed far from its initial and intended upon purpose.

Hongjoong's first book was a diary of all of his suffering, a retelling of all of the ways in which he became the broken version of himself that you've come to find love in now.

You find that yours may very well be the same of him.

And just before sleep takes you that night, you hear carried through the still of night within the estate the sound of an instrument not before heard by you in your months having been spent here. Captivating and deep, you come to realize that you're entirely unsure of where it is that the sound be coming from — one thing that you're certain of, however, is the person behind the hands that play.

Back now to an unspoken call, you tip-toe through the dark in the direction of what commands for you. On the lower level of the home and opposite of the kitchen — rather, where the staff tend to move to and fro — you become aware of a doorway that leads downstairs. Something you had briefly taken notice of but not much else beyond it prior, you notice it to be cracked open and the lightest flickering of candle light shining through as if summoning you down the spiral stairwell and into whatever it is that wait beneath.

The haunting music persisting, you usher forward in your nightgown. Chilled to the bone in the evening ambiance and unsuspecting of what it is that may be lying below.

Upon reaching the basement level, you're stricken with awe at the sight of it.

Far from an average sight, instead you find it perfectly crafted and attended to for keeping. A library, of sorts, and sat in the middle of it all atop a large, red rug stands an organ — as well as the man you've wanted nothing more than to experience the presence of if for nothing more than one last time before your departure.

A half empty bottle of wine next to him, you choose instead to focus on the sounds emanating from his fingertips as you finally make your way to the floor level of the room.

But there's anger there, as well. Frustration as a result of the push and pull from him, and having to watch someone that you've grown so fond of choose despair, as if they think themselves deserving of it.

So, stepping up behind him and clutching your robe shut in the freeze of the room, you say the thing that looms heavy on your mind.

"Why do you insist on being miserable?"

And you don't expect him to answer you, rather, the question comes out as cathartic. Almost as if speaking to no one at all, and not intended to be heard by another person beyond yourself.

"We've been happy here, haven't you been happy?" you continue on with a tremble to your voice that you're unable to fight back in its entirety. "Why can't you just let yourself have that?"

But Hongjoong does still for a brief moment — perhaps something said by you being felt within him, after all. You wait with bated breath for a response that, while not initially anticipated, you think may actually come.

Then, another lifeless press of a key into the instrument. As if the sound of it meant to convey everything he finds himself unwilling or unable to verbalize.

It's not good enough.

Having grown tired of this game with him, you snap forward and clutch the aforementioned wrist into your hand in an attempt to force him to be there and be present with you. It's perhaps rougher than intended upon, and immediately you feel guilt for it, but Hongjoong does react with a swift turn of his head towards you and just as rapidly bringing himself to his feet to face you.

It's a bit of a whirlwind of motions, that much you have to admit, but you suppose it no different than anything else you've experienced regarding the man, thus far.

Hands coming up to seize your face within them, Hongjoong's lips crash hard upon your own. A kiss that's laden with teeth and tongue as well as all of the unspoken wishes and desires held between the both of you all of this time spent together. He walks you backwards all the while keeping you within his grasp until the backs of your legs meet the plush of what you can only think to be a sofa, messy and hurried you catch yourself from falling too roughly against it as he climbs on after and over you — the haste pull of his light jacket from his arms before allowing himself to fall forward and on top of you to taste you all over again.

The scene plays out unlike any of the others: this time rushed and hurried, as if both of you are afraid that the other may pull away at a moments notice. As if this is the last possible opportunity to have this, to be like this.

To have one another.

And you feel as though being with him is a kind of raw, inhibited passion that you've never quite experienced before. Skin that feels hot against your own with every press of his mouth onto you — every inch of your body explored at a moments notice and as though he's never been offered the ability to do so with anyone before — fingertips that dance ever so gracefully across the most sensitive areas of your flesh, you just about fall apart beneath him at his insistence.

Another work of art as you lie beneath him, and with the first press of his hips against your own the two of you stare longingly into one another's eyes — not willing to miss a single thing about this shared intimacy that by now feels an unspeakable length of time in the making. When your breath catches in your throat at the feeling of him within you, Hongjoong closes the distance between your mouths all over again, drinking down the sound of your loving need for him.

For intimacy that started so rushed, the act of it carries out slowly, carefully — a man with every intention of taking his time with you and your body, you have no other choice but to melt into the feeling of him as he methodically unravels you from beneath him — with quiet, strained whimpers of his name faintly expressed upon his lips, as well as the distinct and unforgettable curl of his fingers between your own as you give yourself to him in the quiet calm of such a fatefully stormy night.

Slipping back into consciousness and a bit dazed, you're unable to parse through how much time has passed, but the gentle shift from just next to you pulls your attention from the thought, anyway.

Moonlight falling in through one of the windows only a short distance away, you take in how it illuminates the pale flesh of the man now seated up next to you — the both of you still undressed from the goings on before, you watch him dig out something from his pile of clothing, and then toss it into the back of his mouth.

Reaching a hand out, you lightly graze his back with your palm; it pulls his attention towards you and thus, a grin sprawls across his features — only barely seen in the dark of the lowest level of the home.

"You can't fix me," he says with a chuckle and the gentle shake of his head. "In fact, it's far more likely that I'll only drag you down with me."

Carrying on with the physical comfort that your hand brings him, you merely smile back at him — the gentle huff of air through your nose at the words.

So candidly himself, at all costs. It's that which makes him beautiful — nothing more, and nothing less.

"I meant what I said," you offer him, so quiet that you worry he may not even hear the words at all. Truthfully, there's horror there. The worry of the unknown. Of rejection still, like felt before.

But you have to try.

"You're not your damage, you're not your trauma. None of us are."

Hongjoong turns his head to look out in front of him and towards nothing, as if mulling over words he has never before considered, or at the very least, not in quite a long time. There's a slow nod as he gazes out into the darkness of the basement level, and now much like so many times before, you wish nothing more than to know what it is that he is thinking about. How many ways that he is inevitably trying to talk himself into making a choice: not that serves him, or brings him happiness, but rather the choice that allows for him to remain walled away and far from the eyes of any onlookers. Far from the potential of judgment.

And further more, from reopening still healing wounds as a result of all of his past mistakes.

He inhales slowly and deeply before speaking again. "I'm not entirely sure I remember what love is or what it's like—"

Hongjoong turns to look towards you again.

"—But I'm willing to try, if you are."

Sending off the finished product of your book feels comforting, in ways. After going over the finishing touches and the final notes you've made — you hope that it's not too late to do anyone any good. Granted, the nights spent now far more productive and enlightening, the finalization of it coming to and end encapsulating you in glee in a way that you suppose you hadn't quite anticipated.

Attaching the document to the email before sending it off to your publisher, you make certain not to forget the additional document that, while not requested of you, serves just as much importance as the written piece itself.

You hope it finds him well. A genuine send off, and a fitting note to your resignation from the company, as well.

An unspoken aspiration for it to be the salvation desired — littered with hopefulness, and no shortage of a word once left unwritten within the despairing pages of a work just like it.

♡ send me your thoughts and feelings in my ask.