#and to me I’m just like ‘are you sure they’re allowed to disclose any of that info???’

[carsonjonesfiance]

Look idk if Israel has an equivalent of HIPAA or not but idk if “I called a bunch hospitals in south Israel asking if they received any rape survivors on Oct 7 and they declined to comment” is proof that nothing happened on Oct 7 actually.

[testingthewatersss]

Are you my Captain? Trigger warnings for PTSD, mentions of war, arguing, etc. Protective Steve is lowkey an asshole. Bucky Barnes x F Reader Chapter 1 3700 words fluff, angst, tension, comfort. 18+ MDNI

You each tell your own friends. That was the deal you made with Bucky when you finally got together. A year later and he's finally figuring out why you'd been so sure that you'd gotten the better part of the deal with Tony.

“So what exactly were you planning on doing?”

Steve’s voice is measured, even though she thinks the accusatory edge in his words rings through regardless.

“Clearly” Natasha cuts in, “she wasn’t planning anything, she was-”

Y/N’s glare silences her.

“Are you my Captain, Steve?” she asks, speaking for the first time.

“What?” Steve counters, folding his arms, “I’m -“

“I know you’re a captain” Y/N says, “I asked if you were mine specifically. Are you my Captain, right now?”

“No, but-”

“No-” she agrees, pushing up from her desk, “so why on earth would I tell you anything about my the status of any missions I may or may not be involved in?”

The woman is standing now, staring him down as though they’re the only two people in the room.

“Because Bucky—”

“Because Bucky” she mimics with a cold laugh, “Are you his Captain?”

Now he looks hurt. For a moment, she almost feels bad about the mocking tone she’s using, but then, Natasha chuckles from her place in the corner.

“He doesn’t have a Captain, Y/N/N” Steve says, trying not to sound too upset, “I’m just-”

“Concerned.” Natasha interrupts, taking pity on the man, “He’s worried that Barnes is being drafted by SHEILD”

“By me, you mean” Y/N challenges, staring the other woman down, now too.

“You’re the acting director” she replies, not denying her statement, “If anyone was going to bring him in—”

“Then wouldn’t that be his business?”

“So he is-” Steve bursts, unable to hold back

“Have you tried asking him?” Y/N cuts in, patience waning now, “Or did you just decide to come straight to my office and interrogate me?”

Her voice is shaper than even she’d intended, she realises when Steve flinches, biting his cheek and totally averting his gaze.

“Don’t be like that” Natasha sighs, “Of course he’s asked him. We both have.”

“He’s not giving a straight answer” Steve says, sounding almost desperate, “Please, just tell me—”

“No.”

“No?” he repeats, trying to figure out if it’s an answer to his question or his request.

“Steve,” she says calmly — “I’m sorry, but it’s really none of your business.”

“He’s my best-”

“I know” she allows, raising her palms in surrender, “I know you’re basically brothers, I get that, I do, but it doesn’t matter— I am your friend— truly, I am, and I know that I’m the acting director here but no matter how much I like you, I am not in a position to disclose any confidential information about upcoming interventions-” she watches his open his mouth to interrupt, “-or, who may, or may not be going on them, especially without the consent of said person.”

The pause that follows her statement is tense. Natasha breaks it, smiling;

“Alright,” she allows, “Can you at least tell us if you’re going on any upcoming jobs?”

Y/N laughs at that, looking almost proud before shooting her eyes to the door, trying her best to highlight the lack of privacy their interaction is being afforded.

“Yes.” she answers, “I am.”

Steve doesn’t look appeased. If anything he looks even more frustrated than he had when he’d turned up outside her door half an hour earlier.

Natasha, on the other hand, seems to understand the situation perfectly well. She gives her friend a gracious nod and leads the pouting blonde out of the room in silence.

Y/N assumes she’s getting an earful on their trip back to the tower, but since she’d allowed him to come and bother her in the middle of the day, her sympathy is fleeting.

Bucky appears next, knocking twice before walking into her office and locking himself inside.

She barely looks up from her papers, she knows it’s him anyway.

“Stevie’s pissed” he declares, sitting across from her, on a large leather chair, ignoring the way it creaks in protest, “he keeps asking me about next week, doll— he wants to know if I have any plans.”

He thinks her laugh is musical. As he watches her chewing on her pen, absentmindedly flicking through a folder with practised fingers, he can’t help but think about how utterly, totally, in love with her he is.

“What did you tell him?” she says, finally looking up at him.

He’s blushing like a teenager. Cheeks burning hot.

“That I might be goin’ out of town”

She treats him to another laugh. He grins at his lap, bashful.

“Bet he loved that” Y/N says, picturing his dismay, “That’s probably why he showed up with Romanoff”

His eyes snap up then, sweet-natured embarrassment forgotten in favour of genuine surprise;

“I told him that since he is not currently your commanding officer, I’m not in a position to disclose anything you may or may not be working on, on behalf of SHEILD”

It’s his turn to chuckle now. Gruff and boyish as he paws at his chin with metal fingers.

“Y’know,” he says, breaking the comfortable silence, “I think he might be”

“What?” Y/N asks, distracted by a lab report, “he might be what?”

“My commanding officer” Bucky clarifies, “He was, anyway, back in the forties—“

“I think he was released from those duties when you died in combat”

He scoffs at that, looking at her with an expression she can only classify as adoring.

“I didn’t die…” he says, flicking a balled-up scrap of paper at her wrist, “…did, I, doll?”

“No” she allows, realising that he wants her attention, “what are you throwing at me, Barnes?”

She looks at the post-it note, unfolding it to see that it’s one of her own discarded scrawlings.

The oak desk is littered with them, she’s never been a tidy worker— like her brother, she favours organised chaos.

“throwing” he repeats sarcastically, “you’re real dramatic”

That part is said under his breath, but she hears it all the same.

She manages to aim the ball of paper at his face, laughing happily as it bounces off his nose, and landing in his lap.

“Do you want me to call him back here?” she asks, slipping out from behind the surface, “Since he’s still your Captain”

Bucky feels his head tilting back, leaning against the rim of the chair. His eyes are trained on her, on the way she’s moving around, to position her body just in front of his.

“I didn't say that” he says softly, “but he was— he was probably the last one you’d count anyway”

Y/N hums, reaching out to cup his cheek.

He relishes in the contact, as minor as it is, leaning into her palm before she lowers it to his shoulder, acutely aware of their location, and the likelihood of interruption.

“I’ll note that in your file” she teases, “Right next to ‘comes to my office at 4o’clock in the afternoon because he’s bored’…“

“It’s 9-” Bucky corrects calmly, “-You’ve been here all day, Y/N/N— It’s gettin’ dark out— Y’know your brother doesn’t like you drivin’ home at night”

She looks at her watch, and then, when she realises that he’s right, that time has probably gotten away from her, again she nods, lowering her hand to his.

There is a strange lack of background noise, considering how busy her floor normally is.

“So you weren’t just after some attention?”

“Sure I was” he admits with that same, love-sick look in his eyes, “but you know I try not to bother you at work…”

“You could never bother me” she’s quick to assure him, “I love your little visits, sweetheart”

Sweetheart.

Oh, god— he can feel his heart melting.

“You can always just call me” she adds, “You don’t need to come and prise me out of this building every time I get caught up in reports”

“I know” he agrees, “But like you said, doll— I wanted to see ya’, it— it’s been a few days since we’ve had any proper time together and I—”

He stops, inhaling as he brings the hand of hers he’s holding up to his mouth;

“I’ve missed you” he finishes, “So, when your brother asked me to swing by and bring ya’ home I jumped at the chance.”

Y/N smiles, stroking his chin.

“I love you too” she coos, “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy lately… I’ve just-”

“Don’t apologise” he says quietly, “I knew what I was signin’ up for… fallin’ for a modern dame-”

The boyish grin on his face makes her laugh, real and happy as she starts tracing his jaw with the fingers he’s not playing with.

“a modern dame” she clucks, “I guess that about some me up, huh?”

“Mhmm”

“I can’t leave any threads hanging, Buck” she sighs, nodding back towards the mess on her desk, “There are 2 left… 2 HYDRA bases in the continental US… after that, then we’ve at least chased em’ back to Russia-”

“The 2 you’re talkin’ about,” he says, tone even, “Are they the ones you you showed me?”

She nods, indulging his interest by moving so that the map, with the two bases, circled in red is visible.

He moves, effortlessly lifting her so that she’s sitting in his lap.

Y/N allows the adjustment, exhaling contentedly as he holds her against his front, metal fingers bringing the whole pile of papers closer into view.

“I’m sure this one was just a storage unit” he murmurs, tracing the dot in East Texas, “I don’t know how I know…” he allows, “But, all I see when I think about it, is just walls of containers… big, metal boxes and crates stacked up in the dark”

Y/N pecks a kiss to his head and lets him trail his finger across the map to the second area of interest.

“I don’t know what that is” he admits unhappily, “I recognised the others, darlin’— Even the Russian ones- Especially, the Russian ones, but that.. that one, must be new.”

She nods in agreement.

“It is,” she tells him, “Popped up on the radar about a month ago, we haven’t got much intel yet, it’s why I’m commissioning a reckon job and not a ‘completely destroy everythin’ job.”

“And you have to go?” he says, “you can’t send any-”

“It’s safer if I go” she purrs, knowing he hates it, “and it’s quicker, Buck— It’s much quicker if it’s just me, running in and out… No mess, no fuss— and at least I know what I’m lookin’ at— Which makes my job a whole lot easier than if I have to try and decipher a write up from an agent who’s never set foot near an operational base”

It makes sense. He thinks that’s the worst part. How rational her reasoning is.

“Smart” is the only comment he offers, not wanting to encourage her with any further praise, “One person, goin’ in quiet— it’s a good strategy, incase it isn’t empty”

“Don’t sound surprised” she teases, even though she thinks resigned is a more apt description of how he actually sounds, “I’m a Stark we’re supposed to be smart, and I’ve been an agent long enough to know a thing or two about strategy…”

He knows all that. He’s in a state of near-constant awe of her. Of her beauty, and her brilliance, and just… god, just.. her.

She is the most wonderful thing in his life, and the idea of her putting herself in dangerous situations is painful, no matter how well planned out they are.

“It won’t take long” Y/N says, as if to console him, “A day… maybe two, with travel, Buck— I’ll be back before you know it—”

“Please,” he says, ignoring the map, now, focusing all his attention on her face, on the way she’s looking down at him, brow furrowed with concern, “Please let me come, darlin’— I won’t, I won’t be able to take it if you leave me here alone”

“You won’t be alone,” she says, “Steve is here, and Natasha, and-”

“I’ll go mad,” he tells her, knowing it’s the truth, “Steve won’t be able to do a damn thing about it, because I’ll be locked in your room trying’ to convince myself that you’re not just some kind of hallucination I cooked up whilst I was still in a cryo-tank—”

She laughs softly, he thinks its sound is the most comforting sound in the world.

And then, her palm is on his brow, pressing gently over the skin as though she’s taking his temperature.

“I don’t think anyone as sweet as you could dream me up” she sighs, letting him alter their position so that he’s burying his face against her shoulder, “Baby, I just don’t want you anywhere near—”

“I know-” he cuts in, they’ve had this talk before, “-I know you’re worried ‘bout me, but I— I swear, doll, I’ll be better off with you than I will be in the tower. Even if it’s just a day without ya’, let alone a night, I— I won’t know you’re safe, not for sure and I won’t be able to handle it, I—“

She hushes him, carding his hair back with both hands and guiding his face up so that she can see him, properly. He really does look distraught.

“I don’t want you anywhere near a HYDRA base” she says calmly, “I want you safe, away from any kind of fight that might break out— Away from anythin’ that might hurt you”

He’s about to object, to tell her that he knows all of that, but that he’s serious, and that if she leaves him to go and infiltrate some kind of base where he can’t reach her, that’ll hurt him way more than any fight he’s ever been in—

“I don’t want you to come, Bucky—“ she sighs, “—But, I’m not your Captain, either.”

His blue eyes are wide, and she thinks she can physically see understanding flicker across them.

“Nobody gets to tell you what you can, or can’t do anymore” she says, “Not even me, so if you really want to come, then I’m not going to stop you, but you’ve got to promise me that you’ll stay back, that at most, you’ll watch the surveillance relay and call for back up if I need it-”

“Yes, ma’am” he swears, suddenly giddy with relief, “I’ll do whatever you tell me, I—”

“You’re not listening…” she chuckles, “…I’m not your boss, Buck— I am not giving you orders, I am just asking you to take care of yourself for me. If you insist on coming, then please…please stay somewhere where I know you’re safe, where I won’t have to worry about you gettin’ hurt—”

Seeing Y/N’s composure falter is strange. He knows she loves him. She tells him all the time, and despite himself, and all the reasons he can think of why she shouldn’t, he believes her.

and just like that, he gets it.

She’s going to get hurt trying to keep me safe, he realises, if I get too close all she’s going to do is panic about getting me home in one piece, and no amount of planning is going to matter.

“I swear,” he says seriously, “Y/N/N, I just want to be nearby, I— I just want to know you’re safe, I— I’ll stay back… I’ll stay wherever you think is best— I just can’t stay in that tower, with everyone buzzing around, when I don’t know for certain that you’re safe—”

Then, she nods, accepting his promise and tugging him in a fraction closer.

Bucky feels her letting out a soft sigh against his head, and feels his whole body starting to unfurl.

“So what are you going to tell Steve?” she wonders after a pause, “now you know you’re definitely goin’ to be out of town for a night?”

He chuckles, enjoying being able to relax for the first time since this mission thing had been broached in the first place.

“Well, I think the truth is off the table” he mumbles, “since it’d mean havin’ to explain that we’ve been together for almost a year and he hasn’t noticed-”

“…Almost a year…” she repeats, affectionate, “…that’s a real long time…”

“Best year of my life, doll”

The grin she offers him is blinding. He swears it makes his heart miss a whole beat in his chest.

“What do you wanna’ do to celebrate?” she asks, enjoying the look on his face “Tony offered to throw us a party but-”

“That might be a little loud” Bucky murmurs, “If you’d like somethin’ like that then I’d… I’d work it out, darlin’, but I-”

“I’ve already said no” she assures him, “Most of our friends don’t even know there’s anything to celebrate, Buck, it’d be a Stark affair through and through, and I have enough of those booked in for the rest of the decade.”

He tries to think of a way to explain that just being with her is more than he could dream of. That he doesn’t need any celebration, that she is his biggest celebration.

He can’t. The words won’t come, and he finds himself insanely grateful to be with her, now. To be with someone who doesn’t push him to speak when his throat just tightens.

“He had another suggestion…” Y/N soothes, stroking his cheek, “You know how we’ve just payed a bunch of money to renovate Dad’s old place?… Well it’s ready—It’s got a nice lake out back, it’s not too far from all the action, and it’s now fully kitted out with security tech. We could always go there for the weekend?”

“That,” he says, looking a little surprised, “That sounds real nice, Y/N/N”

“Yeah?” she coos, “I thought so too… and that’s not even the best part— He’s promised to cover my calls whilst we’re away, so we’ll get some real, uninterrupted time, huh? Just me and you— It’ll be nice to be off the grid, for awhile.”

Y/N had thought she’d seen him smiling earlier. She’d have said that he’d looked happy, then— if she hadn’t seen the way he’s beaming at her now.

His eyes are creased at the sides, and looks like his grin is going to split his face.

“I’ve been neglecting you, haven’t I, handsome?”

It’s not really a question. Nobody should be that happy to have some quality time with their partner.

It makes her feel strangely guilty. Especially when she remembers where they are, and the way that he’s come to personally drag her out of her office before she can fall asleep in there, again.

“No” he replies quietly, “You’re… You’re perfect…I’m… I’m a little, needy, doll I know I am, I’m workin’ on it but I-”

“You’re not needy” she corrects, “you’re long overdue some attention, Buck… You’re entitled to some fussin’ after spendin’ so long on your own.”

The sound he makes is somewhere between a scoff and a sigh. It makes her heartache in her chest.

“I’m sorry” she says, meaning it, “I know I’ve been caught up in work lately— I promise I’ll get better about—”

“—Don’t apologise—” Bucky cuts in, looking up at her, “—It’s your job, doll, and it’s important, and I know—”

“You’re important”

He’s so, so flattered by her words that all he can do is murmur out an “Oh, god” as his cheeks fill with colour.

and just like that, she no longer feels slightly guilty.

It’s like she’s been punched in the gut.

There’s nothing to distract her—She can see how exhausted he is. The hollows under his eyes are deep set, and dark. There’s a split in his lip that’s halfway healed, and he’s leaning obviously to his right, clearly trying to compensate for the tightness in his shoulder.

and it’s all her fault.

“When did you last sleep, baby?”

He blinks at her, expression suddenly muddled.

She lets her fingers tickle up and across his jaw, noting the subtle way he leans into the contact.

“I got a couple of hours last night” he whispers, swallowing a purr as she tucks a piece of his back behind his ear.

“a couple of hours?” she repeats, “When did you last get a whole night?”

“I’m not sure, darlin’…” he admits, nuzzling into her palm, “…It’s hard for me to settle sometimes when…when—“

“When I’m not there?” she guesses, already knowing that she’s right.

Bucky gives her a tightlipped smile, before pressing a kiss against her wrist.

He looks embarrassed, but only for a second. When he eventually nods, she thinks he seems more relieved than anything else.

She thinks that’s probably sadder.

“It’s not your fault” he’s quick to tell her, “I—”

“—You, are tired…” she says, “…and I, have been spending too much time at the office…”

“-No you hav-”

Y/N’s head shakes, silencing him.

“How many nights have I actually spent at home this week?”

He pauses, blinking considerately.

“I’m actually askin’…” she chuckles, “I’ve lost track of time all together”

“2-” Bucky tells her, nudging her palm with his nose, “-but, it—”

“2 out of 7” she clucks, “That’s bad, Buck, even for me.”

“It’s more like out of 9” he says, “but you asked about this week”

“Jesus” she grumbles, conceding to the way he’s so clearly trying to coax her hand back to his cheek, “Is that counting tonight as a write off?”

He shakes his head and smiles, relishing in the way her fingers are curling across his skin again.

“Well then… We better leave-” Y/N announces, “-2 out of 10 would be—“

“—Not even close to your personal best—” he laughs, even though he instantly stands, scooping the woman in his lap up with a playful flourish, “—doll, but you’re right, we better head back before Tony sends someone else to get ya’—“

“What a terrifying thought—” she teases, clutching his fingers as they start to walk out into the now deserted office building, “—have you eaten dinner yet?”

“No—” he tells her, hearing the distinctive click of Y/N’s security system sealing her office behind them, “— I Haven’t had much of an appetite”

That confession is fairly predictable, given the state he’s been in about the mission.

“Reckon you could eat something now?” she asks, tone blessedly un-judgemental, “We can swing by a burger joint— there are a dozen between here and the tower-”

“Whatever you want, doll”

x | 2 | 3

[bangsinc]

Are we allowed to ask for some BTAS!Scarecrow x Reader? That character definitely deserves more love! But I totally get it if we can’t!

🎃More Scarecrow x Reader (HCS)🦴

UHMMM YES! I’m gunna be super honest, I’d much rather write for BTAS than Spider-Man.. this makes me very happy :3 I love Batman.. he’s my meow meow,,

Also I agree! Nobody writes for him (I kinda wish someone wrote for a goth reader w him too ngl)… no warnings! Also I wrote a lot,,, sorry. I GOT SO EXCITED TO WRITE ABT BTAS

Jonathan Crane was a man of many faces. He’d been a professor, a villian, but.. never a lover. He’d never dabbled in the dating scene for many reasons. He’d never been considered attractive for one, and additionally, his chosen profession, age, and introverted nature seemed like major obstacles in the pursuit of romance.. To think he could still make someone swoon for him was.. flattering? He’s not sure what to make of it initially.

After the initial first meet, he can’t seem to stop thinking of you. Your memory lingers in his mind like a song stuck in his head. Your voice was a melody only he felt he should be able to cherish, and your apperance was almost ethereal. It’s not that he felt out of your league but.. he really did.

His mind, and morals seem to get the better of him in this situation. He truly has no man or woman he can turn to in a time of desperation, as he’d disclosed himself off from mostly everybody. His own mind became a mentor, and he decided to follow its adivce well.

He begins, slowly, to go out of his way to see you. He’s quiet and especially awkward, not used to being on the giving end of starting a conversation. Many other professors almost look in shock if they’re able to see such a display of subtle affection. What had gotten into this man?

His students for the most part notice his change in demeanor. He’d been a good professor for the most part, quiet and honestly a bit too interested in fear to their liking.. but never outright happy? He was an older man, who’d they’d figured lost the spark he initially had in his job.. they think of themselvs as wrong from that point foreward.

The more your newly found and unexpected friendship progresses, Jonathan finds himself unintentionally opening up to you more and more, spilling facts about both him and what interested him in his profession. He keeps this side of him hidden at first, worried he’d regress to his younger years and scare you away.

The most suprising part about this new friendship is how much he trusts you, however. He’d initially thought of himself as closed off, and if anyone were to try and come close he’d simply push them away. But.. he does let you touch him playfully, nudge him, tease him.. he doesn’t mind it one bit, even though if it was anyone else he’d be bound to lose his temper.

Side note but I would imagine it being funny if you were unintentionally pushing him around slightly, like you bring him into a hug and he literally is so fucking fragile he just can’t breathe 😭

Might offhandedly ask you for your fears, and while he initially imagines what would become if he were to see you in a state of fear.. he somehow stops himself. This was the one actually good thing to become of his life in a big time. Sure, the obsession with fear was a lovely distraction, but what he needed the most was a connection with someone.. so, from that point foreward, he made a little vow to try and keep you away from any of his harmful hobbies.

A confession with him could go many ways. If he were the one to confess his feelings, it would take years. He’d need to know truly know you and your character. Your personality thick and thin, your downsides and upsides, your interests and hobbies.. hed need to be able to recite anything about you from memory, and have an almost spiritual bond in that sence.

A setting for him would also be rather specific. He isnt fond of the rain unless a thunderstorm is in its wake, a common fear, and he certainly isn’t a fan of sunny and warm weather.. fall would be perferred. Perhaps a rather warmer day of fall, the leaves a golden brown and bright yellow. Perhaps he’d take you to a park, or maybe you’d both find someplace nice and isolated to sit. The sun would barely shine over the pearly white clouds, creating a slightly dim atmosphere. An atmosphere he felt the most comfortable in.

Hes not exactly a poetic type, and feelings for him have always been complicated and hard to come by. For Jonathan, gestures say more than words, but obviously he would need to do more to confess his feelings twoards you.

He’d be more.. gentle the day he confesses to you. He has no intention to go on a mindless rant, and he looks incredibly nervous and uneasy. He wasn’t used to feeling nervous, if anything he had figured those emotions were something he controlled and could control on others.

—————————————

🎃Post Confession:

You wouldn’t be reading this if you rejected him, so let’s just go to the dating Headcanons! I have a lot for post scsrecrow jon too, don’t worry this all isn’t going to be professor crane lol.

He was undeniably a sentimental lover, his emotions in a constant state of flux. He’s very doting, very gentle and.. very touchy. It’s rather difficult for a man shunned affection in his early years to keep his hands off of someone willing to provide him with such a gesture.

Constant, maybe even unintentional touching. A hand on your thigh, or one on top of your hand as you sit together. There seems to always be a contented smile on his face in moments where it’s only you. He’s not a grumpy, reclusive man, and doesn’t feel the need to be.

Of course.. he wouldn’t have become the Scarecrow if he didn’t get fired from his previous job for his malpractice. The initial reaction was of course fury, and while he tried to contain the pent up emotions and bitter hatred he held for the Dean of Gotham university after the confrontation, he needed someone to talk to.

His initial reaction is to go straight to your home, not without multiple texts and calls, him frantically panicking and shouting about how all of his hard work and research was spent at a place he wasn’t appreciated at.. he was leaving details out, yes, but what you didn’t know surely wouldn’t hurt you..

If you two live together, he’s most likely going to hurriedly drive back to your shared apartment/house a complete and utter wreck, not even able to speak as his anger fuels all of his emotions.

Either way, he’s got his mind set on one goal now. He’s going to make the university pay, and he’s finally going to do what he loved. You were the only person he could trust, the only person he could count on. You try and be there to lend a loving hand in such a time of desperation, but he’s too far into his own world now. He still tries to be as loving as he can, but something seems off.. he’s definitely keeping a secret, and the more he seems to be hiding the more a sort of trust is broken between the two of you. A big factor as to why he did keep it a secret in the first place was the fear of you being hurt in the process of his own endeavors. He kept reminding himself that what you didn’t know would keep you safe, from the police, from his experiments, and from himself..

He comes to the realization that, if he does want this to work he’d need to let you in, even if you’d be upset over the initial anger he’d been living a double life. Of course, you probably were, but that slightly dampened trust was thankfully built between the two of you again. So what if you were going to date an aspired villian? You loved him, and he did kinda make good cinnamon muffins when you were sad.

His first mission (This would be taking place during his debut episode in Batman the Animated Srries!) was a simple one, sabatoge something, perhaps Gotham university. It was a widely spread crime, one that nobody was sure there was a motive for.. but there was.

I’m the span of his first two crimes, before his first robbery and getaway, he’d aqqired some goons. With the goons came a small name for himself in Gothams underworld, and with that came the need to form an alter ego. All of it was one game of dominos, fueled by revenge and desire. During these events, he’s.. awfully clingy, suprisingly. You’re the only person he can rely on, espically while he’s building a name for himself. He thinks his henchmen are dimwitted dropouts, and that the other criminals would never understand him like you do.

His goons are practically on your hand and foot, wether you like it or not. He’s made it very, very clear two his two main henchmen that your problems were his problems, and that he was never one to let his darling suffer. So.. congrats, you’ve gained two butlers, who work for free..

His goons were so, so suprised he cared about someone other than himself and his goals. The way he talked about you was a drastic difference from the way he talked about them, or anyone else for that matter.

Jonathan isnt shy to boast about his significant other, and many would think you two were an older married couple with the way he presented himself in your company. He’s the master of fear now, and you’re his Mistress/Beau.

Maybe it’s my own bias speaking, but your love would definitely shift into a more gothic and meloncholic undertone. Dates are eerie and poetic, and he serenades you the best way he can.. telling you about how you and him are to rule the world. You and him are two lovers destined to make the world bow at their feet as you both dance on the debris of a destroyed civilization.

His words are sincere, his devotion seeping through every sentence.

“People shall be screaming Hosannas in our name. They will kiss the ground we walk on, hand in hand, my love.”

He’s.. very overdramatic. But he does mean it.

Now when he robs banks, despite his initial claims that he’s not in it for the money, he does end up pocketing some from his goons. Now he does have someone he could be supporting, and at this rate in both of your lives, you either are living together or he’s living at your place so the police can’t catch onto him as easy. He’d like to make your life a little easier, anything for his little raven.

Strangely domestic, as if you two had been married for years. He gives you nicknames in a large supply, his favorites ones that most would deem to be ‘spooky’ or unconventional. My Raven, Adrienne, my flame, etc… might be a sucker for pumpkin too, both being called it and calling you it. You hardly get called your name the more and more you’re together.

You’d fallen in love with a villian, a villian willing to destroy cities in your name, you scare and terrify those who try to get in your way.. congratulations ;)

[we-are-inevitable]

i rly fuckin love that restaurant au… pls speak on the javey of it all !! @jack-kellys

ohhh the javey of it all …. no but this javey slays.

at first, they like each other! they get along well, and davey doesn’t have any problems with jack. jack is efficient and cares about the quality of the food he’s putting out, which in turn makes david’s tips that much better, so their professional relationship is good. they don’t really know each other that well, but they respect each other. they both see each other busting ass to make sure the restaurant runs smoothly, and everything is good in the world.

but then david comes into work pissed off, and he snaps at jack for one of his appetizers taking too long and a table complaining about it, and all hell breaks loose. for the entirety of that shift, their snapping at each other, making snide remarks, and davey always mutters insults as he leaves the kitchen, because who the fuck does jack think he is? gordon fucking ramsay? appetizers don’t take that fucking long and jack should just get his head out of his ass and god, when davey is pissed, davey is pissed.

the animosity between them continues for three days. they’re both too prideful to admit that they were wrong, or apologize, and it all comes to a head when david is taking the trash out after a closing shift and jack just so happens to be outside chatting with some of the line cooks. when david is walking back to the restaurant from the dumpsters, jack sees him, and they make eye contact, and david could easily ignore him, but where’s the fun in that?

“You know, we have an entire restaurant to clean. Maybe you should stop the chitchat and get back in there with the rest of us and actually do something.”

“Oh, so cooking over two hundred meals today- that’s not doin’ somethin’? Cleaning an entire fucking kitchen ain’t doin’ somethin’? Kitchen closed thirty minutes ago, Jacobs. We’ve already done all of our shit. Maybe if you would do your fucking closing tasks early, you wouldn’t—“

“I just got my ass handed to me by a table for sweeping while they were in the dining room, asshat! I can’t fucking clean the bathrooms and keep track of three four tops! Not this late! You want me to start closing the restaurant early? Fucking fine. I’d like to see you buss a goddamn table.”

“What the fuck is your problem, huh? You’ve been nothin’ but a dick the past few days—“

“Oh, so I’m not allowed to be pissed off? Is that what you’re saying? You think you’re so goddamn important that you’re the only one allowed to have a problem with anyone else?! Listen, asshole, you’re not as perfect as you think you are. You think I need to put my ego in check?! That’s rich coming from— Mmph!“

long story short, the entire time they’ve been arguing like this, they’ve been moving closer and closer until they’re essentially chest to chest, and one minute they’re bickering and the next they’re making out with david pressed against the brick wall and jack holding him there.

that’s kind of their normal for a bit. they argue, they fight, they make out behind the restaurant when david takes the trash out and this ends up being the gateway into their relationship. it doesn’t last forever, maybe just a month or so before, surprise! they’re having deep talks in jack’s bed and falling head over ass in love with each other because, wooow, there’s actually a nice person buried under all of the dickish remarks and bitchy comments

from then on, there’s a shift in the arguments that they have in the kitchen. they’re more snarky than mean, and they flash a lot more smiles at each other; it’s clear to the two of them that they’re just messing around now, because that shift also made them communicate normally when something goes wrong. they don’t yell and scream at each other anymore, which kind of tips charlie off that there’s something going on.

they go as long as possible without disclosing their relationship, just because they know there might be some power imbalance allegations around the restaurant- jack is a seasoned chef here, after all, and david is the newest addition to the team (despite having more serving experience than most of the others on the waitstaff). when they finally tell charlie (only because he caught them riding to work together even though they live on opposite sides of town), it’s a little rocky at first but charlie knows that they’re professional enough to do what they need to do and not ruin it for everyone else.

their relationship is solid as a rock after telling charlie, though. sure, they have their differences, and arguments happen, but it’s nothing they can’t work through (and besides, their arguments lead to great makeout sessions, so it’s not that awful). everyone else finds out about the relationship about a month or so after charlie, and the rest is history!

jack and davey go from being the most annoying and bitchy enemies to being a solid team in the restaurant. obviously they don’t give each other special treatment on the job, but they work a lot better as a team, and that only gets better as david is promoted to the lead server position!!!

the restaurant closes on the day of their wedding bc so many people requested for that day off lmfao

[memphisnovels]

Evermore

Chapter 15. The greatest

Previous chapter

Masterlist

Hi :)

Whatever is Pietro so upset about?

 Things are coming to a head for Pietro and Nadia, big things coming in the very near future! <33

pairing: Pietro Maximoff x OFC

warnings: Nightmares, Nadia totally isn't in denial, arguing, so so much tension, Pietro and Nadia in general, just kiss already smh.

“So basically, they’re all like super rich kids who go to this school, and those two main girls were best friends, but Blair’s boyfriend is in love with Serena and Blair’s mom likes Serena better so there’s tension.” I watched Pietro with raised eyebrows as he spoke animatedly about the show, explaining in great detail the main plot to me. “Then there’s Dan who also likes Serena but he’s not in their group and he’s not rich like the others, but his sister is friends with Blair, kind of.” His eyes looked brighter today or maybe it was just the glow of the TV reflecting off of him. I’d been so entranced by the curve of his jaw and the sound of his voice that I’d been seated beside him for God knows how long now.

A small smile tugged at my lips. “Why did Serena leave?”

“Because she slept with Nate, Blair’s boyfriend.”

I shook my head. “Enthralling, really.”

He smirked at me. “It is.”

“This show sounds completely fucking ridiculous.”

“That’s what makes it so good!” Pietro responded, throwing a handful of nuts into his mouth. “I was sure I’d figured it out, but now I’m starting to think I was wrong.”

“Who the fuck cares who gossip girl is!” He was positively giggling at me now.

I rolled my eyes but was unable to stop the smile from overtaking my expression. It was strange to see him so excited about something so silly. The sound of heels clicking against the smooth floors caught my attention, when I glanced over my shoulder a large smile spread across my lips as I took in the familiar dark-haired woman before me. “Hello, stranger.” I was on my feet in but a moment, Pietro’s head whipping around to see what I was looking at.

“Anna!” I crossed the space between us quickly, allowing her to wrap me in her warm embrace. “You didn’t tell me you were coming.” The smile seemed permanently etched on my features.

“Well, I have a few days before my next assignment and wanted to see your face.” She let go of me and surveyed me, the way a mother would her child. Then her eyes slipped beyond my face to the silver-haired man on the couch and the TV in front of him. The corners of her lips tugged upward as she met my gaze once more. “Are you watching Gossip Girl? Haven’t you already seen it like a hundred times, Nads?”

My cheeks instantly grew warm, and I saw Pietro’s head swing toward me at an alarming speed. I scoffed, shaking my head as I attempted to play nonchalant. Pietro’s entire expression lit up and his mouth fell open as he pointed at me. “You little liar.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve never seen this before.”

“Yeah right! You just like hearing me talk.”

I rolled my eyes, turning back to Anna and setting her with a glare.

“Whatever is happening between the two of you… I like it.” Anna told me as we sat down at the island bench in the kitchen. The look I gave her had a beaming smile spreading across her lips. “As much as I would love to delve so much further into you and Pietro, unfortunately, this isn’t strictly a social call.” The shift in her voice had me sitting up straighter, I knew her well enough to notice the slightest change in her demeanor. Right now, it was evident to me that she was genuinely concerned about whatever she was going to tell me. “MI6 have been looking into a string of assassinations in Europe, we believe it’s linked to a militia group, but we don’t actually have any proof. I’m not supposed to disclose anything specific until you agree to act as the United States representative in the case.”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “How very mysterious. If I agree?”

“You’d be flying to Amsterdam in next week to begin recon on a key player.”

“A militia group in Amsterdam? What do they do, smoke joints and ride bikes away from their assassinations?”

Anna’s face twitched as she attempted to remain composed. “They’re not based there. We want you to look into the CEO of a tech company, Tara Janssen, we think she’s stumbled onto something big and is planning on selling it, likely to the militia group. If that’s her intention whatever she’s selling needs to be intercepted immediately.”

I wasn’t particularly concerned about the tech company nor the woman in charge who upon my Google search turned out to be a camera-shy young woman who certainly didn’t strike me as some kind of evil mastermind hacker. However, the general air around Anna and the way she spoke about the case had me questioning my initial beliefs. That is why I agreed to go to Amsterdam and help MI6 with their investigation, even when Anna informed me that they wanted to send me with backup… backup in the form of one Pietro Maximoff. I swallowed down the feelings that nagged at me and the large bright warning signs that flashed through my mind and agreed to this as well. Friends; that is what we had agreed on. Friends did not try to cut each other out of missions. Everything would be fine, we’d been getting along lately, sparring was fine, as was life in the compound. We could share a hotel room for a week without killing each other or repeating any extremely insane lapses of judgment. Yes, I was sure we would be fine. I continued to repeat this mantra in my head over the coming days, in training, at mealtimes, before bed.

Once I was asleep, I didn’t have to think about it because there was plenty to occupy my mind and dreams. At the forefront was the bespectacled man with the syringe. Each night when I closed my eyes, I was greeted by images of him, the music from the ballet was always ringing through my ears as he adjusted my binds and injected me with the undisclosed liquid. Some nights, however, it was different. Some nights I found myself in the sunshine walking along that unfamiliar city street, trying to catch up with the boy in the backpack. Even when I took to a run, I couldn’t catch up to him, I wasn’t sure why I so desperately wanted to. When I was awake it made no sense to me, but in my dreams, there was this peculiar feeling in my chest, a magnetism that propelled me toward the boy.

The wind twirled around my plaits, dancing across the expanse of my flesh and dusting over my cheeks as I returned to the street. I closed my eyes this time, listening to the sounds that surrounded me, trying to find something, anything to explain what I was seeing and why. At first, there was nothing, complete silence, but then, slowly I began to hear. At first it was the faint chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves. I listened harder and the sounds grew louder, footsteps bounced off of the pavement echoing in my ears, prompting me to open my eyes. A shoulder was the first thing I saw, he wore a dark blue sweatshirt, and the corner of a flannel shirt peeked out at me. I wanted to look at his face but my eyes remained trained along his shoulder. When my eyes finally shifted,  the white top he wore beneath his flannel was revealed. Two beakers with different colored liquids within them and a speech bubble extending from one.

‘Hey dude, I think you’re overacting!’ It read.

When my eyes finally reached his face, I realized that he was speaking. His eyes were trained on me, but I couldn’t hear him, his lips moved but no sound came out. I listened as hard as I could. It was as though I were watching something on the television, but the sound wasn’t connected. For a moment I could hear his voice, it was muffled, and I couldn’t understand any of the words, but I could hear him and for some bizarre reason, I felt relieved.

It was like this night after night. The boy would speak to me but none of his words resonated with me, yet each night I would stand before him and listen. Until one night, when things were different, his shirt was the same, stupid science joke, flannel, and sweatshirt over the top. But this time I heard him better, not completely but certain words made it through.

‘Pizza, the kind with the super stringy cheese.’ … ‘not supposed to fill up before dinner.’ …

Then there was something else, a single sentence that would stick to me like glue in my waking hours. Before I could dwell the man in glasses was back, but this time he had the syringe to the boy’s neck.

I lurched from my bed, sweat beading on my forehead. My heart was racing a million miles a minute, thumping against my chest. I pressed my palms to my head, running my fingers through my hair and taking a deep breath.

Cold seeped into my limbs as I walked toward the kitchen, stretching my arms over my head as I went. I sipped from my glass of ice water like a traveler who’d just spent days in the Sahara. The coldness soothed me slightly. A glow emanating from the sitting area caught my attention, the familiar theme song humming through the air. I leaned against the door frame watching Pietro sprawl out on the couch in front of the television. “You really like this show, huh?”

His head whipped around when I spoke, surprise etched across his features, though it quickly shifted into an easy smile. “Rumor has it I’m not the only one.” I rolled my eyes, unable to stop the smile from spreading across my lips.

“Whatever.” I dropped down onto the couch beside him.

He gasped fakely. “Giving into defeat so easily? What have you done with my Nadia?” I settled further into the seat, stretching my legs out to rest on the small table before us. My eyes fell on him then, he was already looking at me. “It’s late. Couldn’t sleep?”

I nodded gently, looking back to the screen. “You know I actually started watching this show because I struggled to sleep.” He raised his eyebrow at me. “It was a long time ago, they used to play reruns of episodes late at night, I just turned it on for white noise but then all of a sudden I’d watched half a season. It was just so easy.” Silence fell between us then. “It’s stupid I know.”

“It’s not.”

I turned my head toward him, leaning it on the back of the couch. He lay in the same position, face close to mine. “Why are you up?” I asked.

“Nightmare.”

“Same.”

“We’re going to Amsterdam in two days. I’ve never been, have you?”

I nodded. “A long time ago, I don’t really remember it.” His gaze burned into the side of my cheek. “It’ll be nice to get out of the compound for a while though.”

“Even if it’s with me?”

“We’re friends now, Pietro.” I looked over at him again, he wore an unreadable expression.

A hum came from him, followed by a nod. “Very special friends.” He was smirking now. That devious little look that made my skin burn.

“You’re very annoying.”

“Well, you’re the one who wanted to be my friend.”

It was astounding that the intensity of my glare didn’t cause him to burst into flames. “I hate you.”

“I don’t think you do.” He had this uncanny ability to make thinking straight impossible whenever he’d look right at me like he was now.

“What makes you so sure? I hated you once, remember?”

He hummed; we were so close that my air was his air. “No, you didn’t.” Before I could retort he was speaking again. “Not really.”

I raised an eyebrow at him, and my lips upturned very slightly. “You seem sure.”

“I know you, Nadia.” I opened my mouth but once again he beat me to the punch. “Deny it all you want but I do. Unfortunately for you, I see through you. You never hated me.”

“I threw a knife at you when we met, not exactly a gesture of friendship.”

He reached forward, dusting a stray curl from my eyes. “Hm, I think you knew I’d catch it; I think you were just playing coy.”

I rolled my eyes. “You are delusional, Pietro Maximoff.” His smile only grew. Once again silence fell between us, a comfortable, soothing silence, only filled by the low hum of a pop song playing on the television. We weren’t even watching it anymore.

…

We were leaving for Amsterdam first thing tomorrow. MI6 had sent over their files, and we were prepped to go. Tony and Maria Hill would be here at the compound on the other end of our comms awaiting intel.

I was currently teaching Pietro a selection of different chokeholds and debilitating holds. “Something about the name guillotine chokehold makes me think I don’t want you to demonstrate it on me.”

A cheeky smile took over my expression as I waved him over toward me. “You’ll be fine. Have I ever hurt you before?”

His eyes became the size of dinner plates then. “Yes!” He spoke disbelievingly.

“Stop being a baby, this won’t hurt.”

I moved toward him, gesturing for him to take up a defensive stance, when he was ready, I took hold of the back of his head. His hair was soft and a little damp from sweat but I didn’t mind. “Are you sure this is a fighting pose?” I chuckled, moving swiftly to bring his head under my arm while the other slid around it to lock him in. He made a sound of discomfort, before I dropped onto my backside, bringing him down on top of me and locking my ankles behind his back to trap him in my tight hold. He tapped immediately and I let him go, laughing at his expression of indignation. “It should not be so easy for you to do that.” He moved back to his feet quickly pulling me up with him. “Show me how.”

It was a simple maneuver, one that he picked up quite quickly. Or at least he partially got it. “You’re not going to choke me out like that,” I spoke nonchalantly, completely unfazed by his weak hold on my neck. “You’re not gripping in the right place and your guard is wide open.”

“My guard is not op-” Before he could finish, I’d slipped from his grip and put him on his back. “That was incredibly rude and plus if I choked you out, I wouldn’t have the pleasure of your incessant taunting.”

“Get off your ass,” I spoke walking back to the center of the mat. “You’re getting it, but you need to put pressure on the carotid artery to send someone unconscious.”

Pietro raised an eyebrow at me. “What am I a doctor? How the hell would I know where the carotid artery is?” His words and the frustration evident in them had my smile growing.

“It’s in your neck.”

“Great. Very helpful, sensei.”

My cheeks hurt from grinning. I took a few steps forward, looking down at his hand that hung idly at his side. It was a few long moments before I did anything. Pietro watched my every movement intently, not daring to glance away for even a second as I took ahold of his hand, situating it between both of mine to fold his fingers down so only two remained standing. Slowly I brought his hand toward myself, one hand sliding down to sit around his wrist whilst the other remained atop his as I pressed his fingers to the side of my neck, just below my ear. He did not speak a word as I dragged his finger along the flesh of my neck above the artery. I took a long, deep breath. His eyes glanced between mine and the hand that lingered on my skin, even after I let my hands drop back to my sides. “That’s the carotid artery.” My words came out as a mere murmur, quiet and soft; gentle. The way his fingertips felt as they slid across my collarbone dipping just a few centimeters lower before they dropped from my body.

The feeling of his fingers made my skin burn as if he’d branded me. I felt all day. Even on our flight to Amsterdam, a deep tingling warmth settled across my skin, the phantom of his touch. He’d been quiet, unusually so and it was beginning to put me on edge. The silence was sending me insane. It was completely unlike him to let me hear myself think. The truth was, I wanted him to talk, because when I was focused on him, I wasn’t thinking about the images that plagued my sleeping mind, the words that the young boy had spoken to me in my dreams. I assured myself that was the only reason I wanted him to speak.

The room was nice, spacious, and the beds were plush; even better, there were two of them. No more sharing, no more forced proximity to my companion who’d spoken a total of two words to me since we arrived.

“Is something wrong?”

He grunted out something that sounded akin to the word no.

“Convincing.” Still, he didn’t speak, instead, he opened his suitcase and began searching through it. Not even offering me a glance. “You know what, it’s good that you don’t want to talk about it. I’m glad because I don’t want to hear about it.” I turned away from him as I spoke the words, grabbing the file from my bag and walking to the next room to look over it. There really wasn’t much point, I already knew it like the back of my hand. We stayed this way for hours, in separate rooms, neither of us daring to speak a word to each other. I didn’t understand what was wrong with him, he’d been in a mood since we finished training yesterday.

As soon as his touch began to fade, I’d blink and feel it all over again. I clenched my hand into a fist, shaking my head. That was enough, the thoughts would stop because I would will them to. Just as I had with the memories of my dreams. The boy had been back each night, the same half-muted conversation, garbled words that were almost impossible to understand, and one phrase that sent a shiver down my spine. My phone buzzed on the table drawing my attention. An address and a time sent by Tony, followed by a message from Natasha that had me gritting my teeth.

‘Be safe… use protection.’

I slammed my phone face down onto the table. “We should eat something,” I said, re-entering the bedroom. Pietro didn’t even glance up at me. I softened my tone; slightly. “Room service?”

“I don’t know… sure, that sounds fine… I guess.”

I raised a single eyebrow at him, he still hadn’t looked at me. “Well, as long as you’re sure.”

The look on his face told me he did not appreciate my sarcasm, yet he didn’t say a word. He continued to stare down at his phone.

“Okay, enough! What is your problem?”

His head whipped up, finally meeting my gaze. “Are you serious?!” I narrowed my eyes at him. Pure exasperation was evident across his expression. “You, Nadia. You are my problem.”

I was enraged that his words struck me the way they did, made me feel something; something entirely unpleasant and wholly sickening. “What did I do?” My tone was cold, yet there was something small beneath the shield of indifference. Something trembling and hurt.

He was on his feet then, pacing the floor beside his bed. “You can’t seriously not know what I mean.”

“Most of what you say is nonsense, it cannot be surprising to you that sometimes I’m a little lost.” I could almost feel his anger from the other side of the room, it was palpable. Part of me was thrilled by it, part of me ached to keep prodding him, keep poking the proverbial bear. So, I did. “Well, are you going to say something? I’m on the edge of my seat here, really, you know how I love hearing your grievances.”

His glare almost had a laugh bubbling in my throat. Then, suddenly it dissolved into a mask of cool indifference. “What’s the plan for tomorrow?”

I was taken aback by his sudden shift, even his tone had changed. It was honestly a little impressive. “Not a chance, you started this, so finish it. Air your grievances, Pietro, tell me what’s got you so riled up.”

“We’re not talking about this now.” My eyebrows shot up at the tone he took with me. Bold.

“Oh, you’re telling me what we are and are not going to talk about? Is that what’s happening right now?”

He’d crossed the room in a few long strides. “What’s the plan for tomorrow?” His tone remained. “Are you going to tell me, Nadia? I know you have a plan, you’re nothing if not calculated.

I smiled at him, no doubt in my mind that the look was chilling. Amusement evident on my face. “You’re being a prick right now, it’s a little funny, but you should probably stop.”

“Is that what I should do?”

“If you know what’s good for you it is.”

His jaw clenched. “Tell me what the fucking plan is, Nadia.” His voice stayed even, not raised, same cold tone. There was fire in his eyes.

“Ask me one more time.”

He did.

My hands were fisted at my side. I had no clue what was going on right now. My body was so tightly strung I felt ready to explode, rage and something entirely different simmered in my belly, urging me to move toward him.

“I’ll pretend to be a new waitress at the coffee shop Tara Janssen frequents. You’ll pretend to be a customer. The plan tomorrow is the same as it will be every day for the next week, we will watch her and take notes.”

“So, what I sit around for a week and hope she accidentally tells us she’s a criminal mastermind?”

“You’ll sit down, shut up, and eat a fucking pastry until I tell you to stop. Is that clear enough?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair and turning away from me. “And you say I’m a prick.” Before I could even process what I was doing I was less than a pace from him and shoving him hard. He spun sharply on his heel to face me; disbelief evident on his face. “Very mature.” I went to push him again, but he caught my arm before I could, yanking me forward in the process. My chest was flush with his and as hard as I tried, I couldn’t stop my eye from dropping to his lips for just a moment. Before anything else happened, I yanked myself from his grip, turning away from him immediately.

“Stop now. That’s the plan, it’s going to be a long week, so just get some sleep. Lose the attitude too.” Before he could say anything else I’d stormed to the bathroom.

Our first day undercover had been much the same. A cold quiet breakfast where Pietro barely acknowledged me, a long boring day serving coffees and bugging the CEO’s phone. I’d been issued with a wig and glasses to complete my persona. Code name: Emma Salsberry, English university student studying abroad. It was an easy character; one I could play in my sleep. When we’d returned to the hotel, I’d set up our listening equipment on the dining table, lots of fancy tech things that would emit recordings caught from the target’s cellphone. Tony had explained it to me, but I hadn’t really been listening. Pietro dropped down onto the couch as I began to listen to the audio. MI6’s intel said she was supposed to be having a meeting at the coffee shop on Thursday. I spent hours there, listening intently to the CEO talk about menial things, it was endlessly dull.

“Why do we think that she’s guilty again?”

The first hint of normalcy from him. My head shot up at the sound of his voice, relief bathing over me at his perfectly regular tone. I shrugged. “Apparently, she stumbled upon something she shouldn’t have. I don’t know, MI6 are very cryptic.”

He nodded and then there was silence again. It was beginning to eat at me, the sound of the clock on the wall gnawing at my brain. Eventually, I could take no more and I stood to go take a shower.

“I’m sorry that I called you a prick.” These were the first words out of my mouth when I emerged from the steam filled bathroom, toweling at my hair as I went.

“It’s okay I was acting like one.”

Even in his acknowledgement his words were still cold, distant. They sounded nothing like him. “Please tell me why you’re so mad at me.”

He scoffed, running a hand through his hair, sending me a solitary glance over his shoulder. “I do not understand how you don’t know why I’m mad.”

I clenched my hands into fists, rage coursing through my veins. The anger management exercises were not helping so I stormed into the next room, however, it was only a mere moment before I lost control and stormed right back into the living area. “Because it comes easily to you!” I exclaimed, causing his head to whip in my direction. Shock written across his expression at my outburst. “All of this-” I waved my arms between the two of us. “It comes easily to you, so of course you do not understand. It does not come easily to me.”

“What are you talking about, Nadia?”

“I never learnt how to feel things! I learnt where the major arteries are, how long it takes someone to bleed out. There was nothing but the mission in the Red Room, that is all we were for, killing and completing the mission. For the majority of my life that is all I knew. Nothing else mattered, not emotions or these menial rules of politeness. I do not know how to feel things like normal people, and yes, I am aware that irrespective of this I do feel things.” I recalled Natasha’s words as I spoke. “But I do not understand my feelings, and understanding how other people feel is an entirely different problem. I don’t know when I’ve hurt someone, I can gather when they’re mad at me. It’s the why that I struggle with. I know that I’ve done something to hurt you, but please don’t ask me to guess how because that I can’t do.”

He looked at his feet for a moment before meeting my eyes, his were a fraction softer than before. “I know. I’m sorry that I was mean to you, but I don’t want to talk about this now.”

I nodded, fiddling with my fingers. “Fine we won’t talk… but you don’t get to keep treating me like shit, at least not while we’re on this mission.”

He agreed, a single firm nod of his head accompanied his verbal confirmation. I wasn’t entirely satisfied but at least we’d be able to get this done without killing each other… potentially.

[spacelazarwolf]

this feels like a silly thing to ask but, how do you actually...leave an abusive relationship? He never lets me leave the house without him.

not silly at all. leaving is incredibly difficult, especially if you live together. it will require some planning on your part.

(and just a disclaimer, i’m not a lawyer or a therapist or any sort of professional, i’m just a dude who’s been in and gotten out of an abusive relationship and know others who have as well)

if you have your own source of income, try your best to keep it in an account only you have access to or an account you have ownership of. do your best to save as much as you can. if there are birthdays or holidays coming up, you can always say you’re saving up for presents.

if you can, see if you have friends or family you can stay with. if not, talk to people at your place of worship if you have one, your job, domestic violence shelters, and someone will be able to find a place for you to stay. if you don’t feel comfortable disclosing why you need a place to stay, you can come up with another reason or just not give one.

once you have a place to stay, find a time where he’ll be out of the house and plan to have someone come over and help you move all your stuff out, or at least all the essentials. make sure you have all your important documents like drivers license, birth certificate, passport, green card, etc. as well as any financial documents you may have.

if you are white, you may be able to contact your local police station and have them send over some officers to supervise your move out in case he comes home. this is risky because the officers don’t always side with the victim, but there will at least be police presence there to deter him from becoming physically violent if he does show up. if you’re not white, this is obviously not going to be as safe and may not be an option. i’d say this is really only for if you think he’ll get physically violent or try to physically prevent you from leaving, and it’s not guaranteed.

once you’re out, avoid posting on social media. don’t give him any hints as to where you’re staying. if you’re married, this is the point you’ll probably need to talk to a lawyer about divorce. if not, don’t contact him. don’t answer calls or texts, just ignore him and try to focus on yourself and your safety. eat some ice cream, watch your favorite show, don’t think about what’s next, just try to relax as best you can. you can work out the details later. you don’t owe him closure. if you want to block his number and never speak to him again, you can absolutely do that.

if you’re in the us, this is a collection of housing laws relating to tenants rights when it comes to domestic abuse. (it’s from 2013 so it may be outdated but it’s a good place to start). additionally, if you work, you may be entitled to time off to get things sorted.

that’s all the practical stuff, but when it comes to actually working up the courage to leave, that’s the hardest part. it took me months to decide i wanted to leave my abuser. tbh it was like a whole year before i left that i realized he was abusive. i was lucky that we weren’t living together so i wasn’t in any physical danger, but he had very thoroughly fucked up my brain by then with incessant gaslighting, so having friends who could tell me what was real and what wasn’t was incredibly important. even just telling a friend you want to leave could get the ball rolling. if he has access to your phone, i’d suggest using an app like snapchat where the messages disappear once they’re read.

and like maybe controversial but let yourself be a victim. not in the “allow yourself to be hurt” sense but the “allow people to dote on you and try to help you” sense. i was really hesitant to accept help because i didn’t want to be a bother, but people are more willing to help each other out than we think. if you ask for help, there’s a good chance someone will offer it.

[flaylore]

MACHINA X FLAYON & DEBUT STREAM

"Hey- HOLOSTARS English Guild TEMPUS' -genius?- Pilot- Machina X Flayon here! If it's a vehicle, I can pilot it, or, drive it, or riiidee- yeah! My dream is to become the ultimate Jack-of-all-Trades; acting, singing, cooking, playing games- I want to do it all! You only live once, so you have to live without regrets. You can always hangout with me when you're feeling down! I would be so happy if you wanna become a machiroon. See you around!"

Machina X Flayon + Debut Stream marks Flayon's first appearance as a HOLOSTARS TEMPUS's member, under the group name, Vanguard, alongside 3 other members; Gavis Bettel, Banzoin Hakka and Josuiji Shinri. It was streamed on January 8th 2023, right after Gavis Bettel's first debut appearance. It is mostly a light-hearted stream introducing himself, alongside a peak into his life as the pilot of guild TEMPUS.

Summary:

Flayon is considered “a genius who can pilot any vehicle in an instant”

It should be noted that, his eyes during the introduction video is red and changes to green-red instead. It never returned to the original color until the end of the stream

Carries items with him when using/piloting R-TRUS

R-TRUS control panels (act like shields from what the debut mentions)

His tail serves as an “antenna” or an “ignition key” in order to pilot R-TRUS

Is “sensitive” according to Flayon

“His piloting is unmatched” “There’s nothing he can’t pilot!”

There’s nothing spherical in the R-TRUS according to Flayon

Can’t explain much about R-TRUS or he’ll get in trouble, according to Flayon

R-TRUS responds kinda late to Flayon even though he was already in it to begin with, though he pays no mind to it

Bettel in particular has been bullying him forever, according to Flayon

“I don’t know why! I didn’t do anything to him!”

His guild card:

HP – around 50%, a blue bar filling the other half MP – around 20-30% STR – again, around 50%, a blue bar filling the other half DEX – around 50% INT – 100%, the bar fully yellow LUK – around 20-30%

They found R-TRUS after Bettel shot Hakka with a tranquilizer dart

R-TRUS assumed to have gone haywire, causing Shinri to save everyone and return to Tempus/Guild Hall

At this point, he’s 18,432 years old

“Or what I like to call, hm… eternally 18?” [laughter]

In his way of doing things he’s actually really young, according to Flayon

His role in the Guild is customer support

“I’m pretty good at it, I don't know. Just.. with technology, I might end up breaking it…”

R-TRUS is very big. Flayon isn’t allowed to disclose the exact size but we’re left to assume it’s colossal

Before Flayon shows Elysium in the R-TRUS, he says:

“Should have enough energy in it this time.”

His mood switches really quickly when finding Magni

Goes from wanting to hurt/get revenge on him to saying “don’t walk away from me…”

R-TRUS finds Hakka, but the screen quickly flashes to the tree and back to where he was standing, Hakka now gone

Flayon notices him at first but once Hakka disappears he says: “Huh… okay…”

Mentions the tail very briefly

“Like I said: don’t touch it.”

Explains the control panels a little more; calls them shields, but explains that they’re how he operates everything

The R-TRUS needs energy to pilot, but specifically from Flayon’s body

“It’s always been there. I’m not sure—nobody really knows about it.” “The more charged up and healthy I am, the more I can run!”

Elaborates on his guild card a bit more; the blue half of the bar counts R-TRUS

Can be REALLY strong when piloting/full of energy and healthy

Leaves his luck stat VERY vague and up to interpretation

“Think about it VERY carefully, and I think you’ll understand.”

Can’t show us his room “yet, but maybe one day”

His Hobbies:

Drawing

Has always been drawing, stopped briefly(?) at age 8,000 according to him Got back into it when he struggled to pilot R-TRUS

2. Acting/Voice Over

Struggled with expressing himself when he was younger Saw people in Corpse Party dying and wanted to do that

“I don’t know, it’s fun just making those sounds.”

Demonstrates him screaming, then says: “yeah, it’s kind of like when Hakka stabbed me with his spear.”

3. People Watching

Glosses over it, doesn't even acknowledge it

4. Reading

Favorite books are “The Four(?) Ravens” and something else

5. Troubleshooting

6. Singing

7. “CRUSHING PPL :)”

Was also pretty shy, still is, but going to Tempus really helped according to him

Says it’s been easier, and everyone’s been checking on him at Tempus

Was all self taught when it came to acting

His Dislikes:

Leafy Veggies Tomatoes Poor Hygiene Headaches Sensory Overloads Insects (except pillbugs)

One time he was mowing and mowed over a wasp hive in the ground

His Likes:

“PPL Better Than Me” Visual Novels (Tsukihime, House of Fata Morgana, and one more he can’t mention “for reasons”) RPGs/RPG Maker Sweets and Candy Fighting Games Cute People Plot Heavy VNs

Before he can elaborate on the last two, R-TRUS targets Flayon with a text box reading “Stop Talking :)”

Flayon nervously reminds us that there’s certain things he can’t talk about

He runs away after this to Bettel’s room, where R-TRUS follows him inside the Guild Hall (somehow)

Begs Bettel to open the door for him

When he gets back, R-TRUS’ marker is still on Flayon

Flayon tries to calm it down by singing(?)

Starts crying? Sounds desperate and scared

Eventually, R-TRUS goes away

Explains that he’s trying to give as honest answers as he can, then says: “I think I’m hiding something.”

Loves Re:Zero and HunterxHunter for the story/writing and for how pathetic their protagonists are

“I’m not insecure whatsoever, no… I can be insecure about a lot of things, but not this.” (referring to his favorite anime and games)

Chose machiroons because of “rune knight classifications in games” according to Flayon

His Oshi Mark is a low battery 🪫 because he’s always low on energy

“It’s like a fighting game: your life won’t end until you hit zero.”

His Goals:

500k subs Jack of All Trades He “likes doing everything” An Original Song Song Covers Compose Music To be in a fighter or an RPG game

His Content Ideas:

Gaming Streams Zatsudan Adventuring Streams Drawing Streams Song Covers Karaoke Voice Help Tips

Flayon shows off his model

The earpiece he has is what he uses to communicate with everyone when he’s inside the R-TRUS

Has his pilot symbol on the collar of his coat/armor

“I can’t pilot without it.” “The code is “Tempus-made” “So I belong to the guild.. that’s nice. I don’t feel.. alone.”

Brings up the control pads when showing off the model

Explains that they’re not actually controllable, but he tries his best

R-TRUS suddenly flashes a message saying [Unknown Emergency Signature].

Flayon sighs and checks out the mech

Says the R-TRUS settings look normal + all valves are up

Suddenly, the R-TRUS flashes another message: [TARGET: BANZOIN HAKKA]

“He’s really powerful, and he’s really scary. You’ll see what I mean by that.”

[cinewhore]

To the Ends of the Earth (3)

Pairing: Lara Croft & Marcus Pike (Tomb Raider AU)

Rating: Mature

warnings: mention of missing limbs (looking eye emoji), magical rituals, usual treasure hunter things. 

Summary: After obtaining a seemingly normal piece of art from a flea market, Marcus Pike enlists the help of an old friend in tracking down its origins. They both get more than they bargain for.

A/N: a familiar face pops up in this section! To be honest, I think this is my favorite chapter so far. I really hope y’all like this. credits to the gif maker. 

“Bite me and know that I bite back.”

Ava stares at Lara, blankly, then she blows a huge raspberry.

“Lara, please give me my child.”

Lara smirks as she hands Ava back off to her mother, the cooing child now sticking her tiny fist into her mouth.

Lara wrings her hands together, leaning back on the couch. She has been to Marcus’s house plenty of times, often enough people would think that she lived there but each time she visits it feels different. Like she didn’t belong there. With all the children there now, it was as if the house was getting too small. Not big enough to include her.

“I, uh, want to thank you for letting Marcus come with me. I realize it must be a hard thing to discuss.”

Ginny nods, wiping drool from her fingers absentmindedly. “We had a long talk.”

Lara wasn’t in a relationship but she knew what long talks meant. It meant that there was a compromise made and that there were unspoken things floating around in the air that Ginny nor Marcus would disclose to her. It meant that she had to be careful and play by the rules. Two things Lara wasn’t particularly good at.

“Just keep him safe, please. I want my husband to return to me in one piece, if you can help it.” Ginny tells Lara.

“I’ll take care of him, Gin.”

The twins come bumbling from the back of the house, one with Ginny’s bra on her head and the other with a pair of Marcus’s briefs on. Lara’s eyes widen as they chase each other around while Ginny just stares at them. Marcus isn’t far behind, dragging a suitcase behind him.

“Alright, you little monsters, surrender the bra and underwear to your mother or else.” Marcus warns them. The twins do as they’re told, Oliver pouting.

“But I wanted to be a superhero!” he whines, handing Ginny the wrinkled under garment.

“You can be a superhero by going upstairs to brush your teeth. You too, Tess.”

The twins are reluctant but with a stern look from momma, they trudge up the stairs in unison.

“When will your sister get here again?” Marcus asks Ginny, taking Ava from her. He leaves a few kisses along her face. Lara laughs.

“Tomorrow afternoon.”

“Good.”

Marcus looks to Lara. “You ready?”

Lara stands up, stretching her limbs. “Waiting on you as always,” she turns to Ginny. “One piece.”

“Thank you.” Ginny murmurs. Lara steps outside while Ginny and Marcus say their goodbyes, wanting to provide some privacy.

As Marcus steps into the car, Lara cranks the engine and the vehicle roars to life.

“Where to?” Marcus asks.

“How’s your German?”

“I’m too old for this shit.” Marcus complains, picking at his shirt. “When is Alex meeting us again?”

Lara slips her shades on and sighs. “He’ll be later on. I just need to meet with someone quickly.”

“At a fucking rave? Jesus, way to make me feel twenty three again.”

“The guy owns the place. He’s peculiar but I’m sure he’s got information about the epitaph.”

Marcus nods and follows Lara inside of the building. Security checks them both at the door, allowing them entry when they don’t discover any threatening items. They slide through the grinding bodies, the bass from the music pulsating through their chests. Lara leads Marcus to the VIP area where more security is posted.

The bouncer holds his hand up to stop them. “VIP access only.”

“Clearly,” Lara snarks. “I’m Croft.”

The man relays the name in his headset, waiting a brief moment for a response before letting Lara and Marcus through. The area opens up to a more calm part of the club where a guy is seated in a circular booth. Men and women are all around him, some indulging in heated passions. A red haired woman opens up her mouth and the man slips a colored tab under her tongue.

He looks up from the woman, face curling into a blinding smile once seeing Lara.

“Well, I’ll be. Lara Croft, in the flesh!”

“Ezra. Nice to see you haven’t changed.” She motions around the room.

“Oh, you know me. One must give in to the delicacies of the flesh from time to time. Excuse me puddin’,” Ezra scooches from around the table to greet Lara and Marcus properly.

“Lara, who is this?” Ezra gestures to Marcus who extends his hand out to shake Ezra’s but Lara stops him.

“Married.”

Ezra chuckles. “And what exactly is marriage, I find, is the most pressing question.”

“Happily married. With three children.” Marcus adds.

Ezra thinks on it and decides to leave it be. “Suit yourself, Marcus. Just know, for future reference, I am a gracious lover.”

Marcus smiles and much to Lara’s surprise, he blushes. “Noted.”

“Ok, my prospecting friend, allow me to escort you to my office.”

Ezra prances to a small room set off to the side, parting the beaded curtains. Marcus crosses his arms and leans against the doorway while Lara takes a seat on one of the stools. Ezra mutters to himself while he attempts to organize the clutter on his desk.

“So, if I should do myself the honor of calling you a friend, Lara, that means that you’ve come to me because there is treasure snuffing the surface somewhere. Am I correct in my assumption?”

Lara hums. “As always, Ez.”

He smiles. “Wonderful! Uh, what is it exactly?”

Lara nudges Marcus who takes the lead. “I found one of the panel pieces from this dutch epitaph and it seems that it’s a pretty hot item on the market.”

“Balashov is looking for it.”

This stops Ezra in his tracks, the smile fading from his face. “Ah, our dear old Russian comrade. Never a good thing when he’s involved.” Ezra’s left hand creeps over to his right shoulder, massaging it gently. The once stump was now fashioned with a prosthetic, one that Ezra was hesitant to get.

Marcus senses tension in the air. “Am I missing something?”

Lara speaks first. “We were all employed on a dig in the Amazon. He flipped, Ezra lost his arm. Business.” She shrugs. Ezra does not.

“Taking a man’s arm is no petty thing.” he counters.

“Can you tell us something about the epitaph?” Marcus asks.

“Well, the obvious being that there are three main pieces and I assume that you have one?”

“Perhaps. Can you tell us where to find the other two?” Lara answers.

Ezra clears off his desk by throwing everything on it on the ground, spreading out a large map. “So, according to my studies that epitaph is from a Danish artist, Nanko Bonten,” bonus points for Marcus. “Legend has it that this man dabbled within the dark arts, performing a ritual that allowed him to possess certain powers. He created a portal within this epitaph, which can transport matter from one dimension to another.”

“But my fathers studies, it mentioned something about the Umrah.”

“Yes!” Ezra exclaims. “He stole the ritual from the Umrah, who used it to transport the living to the underworld and vice versa. The art may be Dutch, yes, but everything else is not. When Europe was taken over by the Nazi’s, Nanko was worried that they would take it from him. So he took it apart, scattering the pieces all over the globe. Some mention that he might’ve had a map that disclosed the location of the parts but no one has discovered it.”

“Interesting. And somehow one of those pieces ended up at my local farmers market.”

“Oh, you are a marketer? I fancy the ones here myself. Nothing compares to the fresh nectar of produce that has been grown by the working man’s hands.”

“Does your market carry sausages?”

“The bratwurst is to die for, my friend.”

“Really? I’ve had some while traveling in Italy but you know it doesn’t taste the same.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Boys. Focus.” Lara interjects. “Any leads?”

Ezra points to India. “You may find another piece in Mumbai. Rumor has it that Nanko had a lover there who he entrusted a piece to. I’m afraid that’s where my knowledge stops.”

“India, got it. Marcus.”

Lara nods to the door. She thanks Ezra silently.

“Well? Nothing for your guide?” Ezra holds his arm out.

“You still have your left arm.” Lara laughs, both her and Marcus disappear into the flashing lights.

[truckreincarnation]

Um Ackshually || Theophania || Trial 3.1 || Re: Bian

Meili's spot was empty... It's not as though that was an actual surprise or anything. She knew going in, but physically seeing the empty space made Theophania's blood run cold. She stared at the empty space as she listened to everyone's arguments and testimonies. Meili was gone, and they all had to stand there and talk about it. Cold. Callous. It was easy to do when it wasn't someone you cared about, but now...

Theophania gulped in a deep breath of air. She had to remain focused and collected. Falling apart and being victim to her own tumultuous emotions would do nothing to help Meili, nor Frank. It would just make a mess of things. She owed it to them to keep it together as long as she could, at least until they uncovered the killer. 

She could allow herself to fall apart then, but for now, she had to keep that rational part of her brain on, even as it struggled against her warring emotions and that painful lump in her throat that one got before they cried. She knew quite well she'd be fighting that the whole trial, but so be it.

"Bian, I do agree with you that it is highly probable that the killer is the one who went invisible, but the truth is we simply don't know yet. I do think we should keep it in mind as our primary theory, but I don't think it's a good idea to posit it as the absolute truth just yet, lest something like last trial happen again. I only ask we try to keep open-minded before dog piling onto one theory, even if it does seem likely," Theophania said. There was no doubt that their invisible fiend was involved in the case. Even if they hadn't commit the final blow, they knew who did. And they were obscuring themselves in the shadows like a goddamn coward. Whoever they were, they better hope Amber got to them first with their punishment, otherwise Theophania would make sure they suffered a far more painful fate.

"You say that there is no benefit to an accomplice, but I would disagree. I don't think it's any secret that we all have grown fond of one another by now. What other benefit would someone need than helping out a friend or loved one? Of course I'm not saying our invisible coward is an accomplice, just that I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss the idea. It could also just be an accidental witness who is keeping their mouth shut because they care about the killer, or it could even be some creep enjoying the view. Point is, we don't have enough evidence yet. There's no denying this invisible bastard is involved, but we don't know if they're the killer yet. Either way, it might be beneficial to disclose who among us even knows Hide in Plain Sight."

Now that she'd said her piece regarding Bian's statement, it was time to disclose her alibi. Which was...not the most ideal, but well...

"I was in my room until almost 8:00. I was so caught up in what I was doing, I nearly forgot I had planned to meet Avery near the Fountain at that time. I rushed out, but then we all saw Frank's vision. It made me slightly late, so I showed up slightly past 8:00. Avery was already there, and Nao was sitting at a bench nearby. I wanted to show Avery my 'magical girl' transformation, as they hadn't be able to see it yet. I did see Bian come through at around 8:15, from the direction of the storage room, just as she said, but we didn't greet one another."

"In any case, I was with Avery in the Fountain Room until roughly 9:50. We discussed the logistics of my transformation for a bit, and they also showed me some of their, um, rats for a while." It was nice until the Horrors. "We split off near the Library at around 10:00ish. They went in and I continued on. I didn't see anyone after that. I went to the Dining Hall to have a late night meal. I had a sandwich and some tea. By the time I sat down to eat, that's when the body discovery was announced and, well, we all know what happened next."

She sighed, "I'm aware no one can corroborate my whereabouts during the time of the murder. I was completely alone from 10:00PM until the discovery. As such, I accept that this makes me a suspect."

If it came down to an accusation, she had other defenses, but nothing concrete enough. She just had to take the L here until otherwise proven. 

[theguidetocryptids]

I’ve worked in the Southwest United States as a supernatural exterminator for about 12 years at this point, and I’m sort of surprised that I haven’t seen more posts about this type of thing over here. I don’t want to disclose my own salary for privacy’s sake but I’ll say that it’s well within the 6 figure range, if you’re good.

I know a good bit of people are probably interested in that kind of money, but I need to explain a few things first—most importantly, the industry is regulated, and the Bureau of Supernatural Services is your big boss. They also watch the news wires to make sure you don’t have any public slip-ups on the job.

Alright, on to the actual tips/info.

One, I absolutely do not recommend this job if you have any health issues. Heart issues? You’re going to be dealing with literal monsters. Epilepsy? Some poltergeists can get trigger happy with the light switches. Bad knee? You’re going to be doing a lot of running around. And from. It’s not exactly the same brand of manual labor as construction, but it is hard on your body. Luckily you can usually afford an early retirement if you play your cards right.

Two, you’re going to have to be certified if you want to make as much money as possible. This is generally an easy process, you just have to shadow under another exterminator for six months and then take a certification exam—usually routing out some spirit infestation, but sometimes they’ll throw nasty stuff at you, like a ghoul nest or a mycelium infection. Based on your performance, you’ll get either a bronze, silver, or gold stamp, and that’ll determine the equipment you can buy from retailers and what types of jobs you’re legally allowed to do. You can retake the certification exam every three years.

Now, this is the sort of job that accepts you even if you have a criminal record, but they’re a bit wary of accepting people with mental health issues and dealings with paranormal activity in the past. It can make you a bit more liable to injury or bad jobs, but it isn’t the final decision, just a contributing factor. They’ll approve you if your work is good enough and your mentor can vouch for you. Just expect to have to explain yourself over call in the probationary period after you take the cert exam, they try to make sure you don’t sound unhinged.

You’ll also sign an NDA after you get your cert level—don’t talk about your equipment, where you get it, who let you buy it, what you need it for, what you’re doing 5,000 miles away from home—all of that. Breaking it isn’t a crime, but the bureau will strip you of basically everything related to exterminating, and blacklist you from doing work.

Third, and this is kind of tame compared to the last two, you’ll be driving. A lot. I put 80,000 miles on a truck just last year, even got up to 100,000 when I first started up. You can have a set area of operations, but if you really wanna get a good clientele list, you’re gonna have to be willing to stretch your comfort zone a little bit more, loyalty goes a pretty long way in situations like these. You won’t get many repeat customers—be wary if you do—but word of mouth means your name will be put around a good bit.

Fourth, don’t talk about your job if you want to keep it. Confidentiality is VERY important. There’s nothing official like HIPPA as far as jobs for specific clients, but you can get your certification stripped and your equipment seized if you talk about this to anybody who isn’t hiring you or isn’t another exterminator. Luckily, I’m retiring, so I don’t really care if they manage to pin down an anonymous post on me or not.

Fifth and finally, find yourself a partner. Immediately.

Everything else is pretty much like your normal job. Get a good tax accountant, make sure you put cash into expanding the business, don’t spend money faster than you make it, whatever other (better) advice you want to take to heart.

You’ll get full health insurance from the BoSS, but your pay will be dictated by whatever clients you take. Your retirement is also completely up to you, as they don’t want to risk pensions for exterminators showing up in government spending reports.

EDIT:

Reading over this, I don’t feel like I’m doing the work justice. It’s hard. You’re probably gonna hate it, or at least parts of it. You’re sure as hell going to hurt in the morning, and I really don’t want anybody who’s too green around the ears trying to land this job and ruining their life, so let me tell you a story. I think this was my third or fourth job, so a few things are fuzzy, but it still gets the point across.

This must’ve been around winter of 2010. Louisiana area, bad rain, worse roads. Got a call about mausoleums being cracked open in the dead of night, a few freshly buried caskets having the dirt disturbed.

Could have been a lot of things, but I was betting on ghouls. They love to suck the embalming fluids out of corpses before they rot, and newly buried dead are a fresh source of formaldehyde. Took about three days to get down to the graveyard, and when I did, it was raining cats and dogs, but I was on a deadline—another job had opened up in Mississippi, and I could be there if this wrapped up fast enough.

You don’t really have to take much out whenever you’re just scouting the area, but I was fairly confident I already knew what it was, so I took my flashlight, a shovel, and a couple traps meant to snare ghouls so you could relocate them to abandoned graveyards. (They’re good at managing rats and vengeful dead.) It was maybe ten at night, but this was before the time change and with an overcast sky, so it was pitch-black. Not even the moon shone, so it was just the 9-volt flashlight lighting my way.

It was pretty routine at first. Inspect the disturbed graves, check out the mausoleum entrances, put a trap at each, but something just felt . . . off. Usually, when you have a ghoul problem, they aren’t very quiet. They’ve gotten a bit used to exterminators over the years, and while they aren’t friendly, they aren’t afraid to skitter across your path if they feel like it, but this graveyard was just. Silent. Deathly quiet, which is sort of ironic given the woods around there are anything but on any other given day.

I think that was the first sign, anyway. No wildlife around making a racket. No cicadas, no frogs, not even mosquitoes biting my neck. Nothing. I sunk the shovel into the disturbed earth underneath my foot anyways, and looked up, and then there was that deer standing in front of a headstone.

I sort of thought it was an ornamental statue at first—like how some people get statues of the Virgin Mary on top of their graves, maybe some real avid hunter’s final wish—but then it turned to look at me. And screamed.

I’ve probably heard worse, being at it as long as I have, but that’s the one that sticks with me. A deer, a buck, the nubs still covered with felt, screaming like some sort of demon as it charged at me. I nearly shit myself, and damn nearly tripped, but I managed to duck behind a row of graves as it charged, dropping my flashlight as I did. The only thing on hand was the shovel—I’d meant to dig up a body, check to see if it'd been drained, but there wasn’t a point. The skinwalker was much more concerning.

It reared at me again, walking on its back legs and swinging its hooves at me wildly, but I swung, felt the crack of metal on bone. Watched it go down, watched it crack its head on the headstone, and as the blood ran down, the body went limp.

For a second.

And then it was back up, jaw at some impossible angle, gargling in some sick way as it drew back up to its full height, its body going in and snapping. I swung again, but slower, and Ibarely clipped its leg as it stepped back. The skinwalker was changing again, and I was pretty much dead at that point. A human against a walker in its true form was never a fair match-up, and if I could get to my truck in time, I wouldn’t be able to get at the rifle I had stashed in the bed before it was on top of me, with the teeth it was newly growing.

Not like I had any other choice, though. I ran with the shovel in hand like a dipshit, scooped my flashlight off the ground and booked it like the hounds of hell were after me. Barely made it twenty feet whenever I heard its footsteps gaining, covering ground twice as fast as I could ever hope to, gaining still as its transformation was nearly completed. I thought that was the end for me, that it would be a painful, gorey way to go, and then a shot rang out.

My truck wasn’t the only one idling at the drive up to the graveyard. And it certainly wasn’t the nicest, either, compared to the shining thing that’d pulled up beside it.

My savior laughed a bit at how dumbstruck I must’ve seemed, then told me that I owed them a beer.

Apparently, they weren’t in the business properly any more, but they’d take odd jobs if a close friend had something that needed taking care of. He had thought he was going to be out of town, but decided to come back a day early to check it out—he’d done a job there before, and the fact something was there again had him worried. He’d arrived just in time to spot me hitting the skinwalker with the shovel, and gotten his rifle out in preparation.

I just smiled as he told me the story, and tried to ignore the fact that his teeth were pointed when he grinned.

Ah, but that doesn’t have anything to do with being an exterminator.

Like the title says, AMA. You can leave a comment or DM me if you want, I have a few days before I plan on going out and returning all my equipment officially, so I’ll probably respond until then. If there are any other exterminators out there, make a throwaway and leave a comment, I don’t meet nearly enough of you as I’d like to, and talk to even less.

EDIT 2: Grammar.

[astolary]

𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐀𝐔𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏 .

( Synopsis ) The hymns of paradise intertwined me with your beautiful existence. It’s gorgeously disgusting.

( Author’s Note ) Part 2 will contain the remaining agents + Fade!  — I am so sorry for Breach’s header because Riot didn’t make a cinematic with him yet so I had to use the one from Fade’s trailer :’D

( Pairings ) Separate! Astra, Breach, Brimstone, Chamber, Cypher, Jett, Killjoy, Kay/o, and Omen! x GN! Reader.

( Word Count ) 1.8k words // EDITED!

( 1 ) anak, buhok mo! — means “child, your hair!” in Filipino.

( 2 ) I am not a saging. Di ako pritong saba. — means “I am not a banana. I am not a fried banana.” in Filipino.

[ star chosen: if your soulmate is listening to music you can faintly hear it too, the louder it is the closer the both of you are . ]

ASTRA sang whenever she felt the need to lift the atmosphere. Are teammates fighting childishly over nonsense? Nah, she got you fam, she’s been singing in the shower half the morning for a reason! Most of the music she listens to is the genre that she feels at the moment, that way it can be a form of communication between the both of you! If she felt calm, lofi music would be the playlist of the day. Did she feel expensive? Let her pull up some tunes from the internet. Homesick? Traditional music that hailed from her homeland. 

I can see Astra being the type who is perfectly chill with the types of music you listen to. Music is an international language that should be respected by all! The hours and dedication that are composed into one piece, mwah. 

Astra would probably ask her fellow friends if they're familiar with the music you were listening to so that she can get some hints about where you were from or what you liked. Little did she know you did the same.

Ah, Ghana music. Maybe that’s where they’re from?

[ star chosen: figuring out who your soulmate is by touching them . ]

BREACH sometimes wondered what it was like to touch with hands. What did pillows feel like? I mean yeah, it was comfy for the head, but Raze said they felt like clouds. Since hands are one of the more sensitive parts of human anatomy, surely they must feel softer. Was it easier to type into his phone? Was it easier to massage his back?

If he had to figure out his soulmate by touch, maybe he accidentally stepped on their foot? Maybe they crash into each other for some cliché reason? Hopefully, you can understand Breach. He’s already lost so much but gained so much more. He learned to make a name for himself. He certainly hopes you're up to the task of dealing with him. If you hate him? He’ll hate you too. If you're up to getting to know each other, just give him a moment.

Relationships were fleeting. The fleeing rays of the morning sunlight were so close to his grasp, that they could slip away from him. With his dangerous job and background, please just give him some time. Lmao what if he accidentally broke Sova's bow so Sova slapped his face then

To whoever I’m going to give my heart to in the future, hold it gently as I hold yours.

[ star chosen: there’s a journal that allows them to write back and forth with their soulmate . ]

The internet was one of BRIMSTONE’S many weaknesses. Too many buttons, and too many things to remember. That was why he was glad he could talk to you through the pen and paper, the good old-fashioned way. He could write down all his worries to you without having to disclose any potential information the public and his enemies may take advantage of. It was just Brimstone writing down in a journal. Hacking? Nope, you’d have to steal his journal first. And he knew you recognized his handwriting, so it was all safe.

Some days, he would draw the burgers he and Killjoy grilled together. Other times, he would preserve flowers he picked up from other countries and place them as a bookmark to where the both of you last left off. Sometimes, it would even be him asking questions he found embarrassing to ask his subordinates.

Given the time zone differences, if there were any, he’s grateful to you. Maybe it won’t be a romantic soulmate relationship, but just a best friend soulmate relationship. His friend would be proud.

I just hope I can lift some of their burdens.

[ star chosen: anything you draw/write on your skin appears on your soulmate . ]

When CHAMBER was younger, every single day the both of you would write to each other. He would write on his arms what he would learn during the day, and for some reason, you would draw on your forehead to tease him. You both didn’t mind. It was a daily routine.

But then radianite was introduced. His views on humanity changed. He stopped writing to you. You were confused, did you draw something that offended him? Multiple apologies were written on his arms. So, to ignore them, he decided to tattoo them. Every part of his body that was once a fragment of a beautiful memory, was hidden away by streaks of gold.

The universe has ways of toying with feelings. And just when he taught he finally forgot you, your stupid and funny innuendoes tucked away down Niagara Falls, you reappeared once more.

Haha loser we’re stuck together till we’re old and wrinkly >:)

[ star chosen: your heart beats your soulmate's name in morse code . ]

CYPHER was a man of many talents. Especially all the skills he picked up during his time as an information broker. The morse code was something Cypher found especially useful. A form of communication without the need for coding or speaking? Count him in.

Sage came to him one time after a mission. “Your heartbeat never changes, Cypher. It scares me.” Sage expressed to him. “Whether you come back after a journey of thrill, or if you're in a situation where your heart is supposed to palpitate in shock, it remains the same.”

Cypher thought back to this moment from time to time. Maybe, just maybe, that was his soulmate's name.

Amir El Amari. Amir El Amari. That name is forever engraved on your mind. You did not survive the morse code classes you were enrolled in just to forget your soulmate's name.

[ star chosen: there's a counter on your arm that tallies the number of times you passed by your soulmate . ]

JETT was fast. One of the fastest in the world. And sometimes, she tends to take this aspect to her advantage. Which means speed running through the grocery store, speed-running through her chores, and speed-running through all the things she's too lazy to do. No, she's practicing how to control her powers more efficiently!

“Wow, you sure passed your soulmate a damn amount of times, wind girl.” Yoru glanced at her bicep. “Huh? What do you mean?” Jett thought she didn't even have a soulmate in the first place. “Idiot, the marks on your bicep are a tally.” Oh.

To her horror and dismay, she passed by you 620 times. You were joking, right? Of course, you were, you were playing with her.

Nah, and tell the girl who passed by me 620 times she's my soulmate? Where's the fun in that?

[ star chosen: there's a timer on your wrist that counts down until you meet your soulmate for the first time . ]

Negative. It was negative years, months, weeks, days, hours, minutes, and seconds, until KAY/O would meet you. A robot with a soulmate? Bless his creator who generously gave him one. But how would you react to him? Will you be disgusted by him? Instead of warmth and smiles, you would be greeted by a walking online encyclopedia and metal.

Later, disaster struck. There was no time for romance. The clock that was usually displayed on the corner of his wrist was long forgotten by him.

Kill All Your Opponents. He was mankind’s last savior. Foolish mortals, can’t radiants and humans live in peace? With the last solution, he traveled back in time. The clock displayed on his wrist started moving rapidly. Malfunctioning. Malfunctioning. Automatic reset triggered.

And when Kay/o arrived at the destined timeline? 1 week. He will meet you in 1 week.

Uh, I have a feeling my soulmate is old as fuck.

[ star chosen: whenever you lost something, it somehow always ends up with your soulmate . ]

The young German engineer KILLJOY was a bright woman, but she could be ignorant. Her room was pristine and organized, everywhere placed in drawers and cabinets so that she could find it. But her mind? A beautiful mess. Ideas were popping out from nowhere, left and right. There were machines and blueprints she could make, but there was no more coffee. Why, cruel world?

Your brain will never match the same pace as Killjoy’s, which you immediately figured out. You forgot where you placed your wallet? Some random math equation would pop into your head just when you think you already said farewell to mathematics.

You lost your things, she lost what she was thinking about. So now papers and video game consoles were piled up in her “random” drawer, while you were thinking about how to make a robot to defy gravity in space by making gravity happen in space.

Wait, I thought my soulmate was like an engineer or something, when did gravity come into the picture? Oh, wait, physics, oh, ok.

[ star chosen: if you dye your hair, your soulmate's hair color changes too . ]

"NEON, (1) anak, buhok mo!" 

Neon raised an eyebrow as to why her mom was pointing at her hair. Her hair was the same? Maybe it's just the bed hair. She glanced at the vanity mirror across her room. Oh my gosh, why is her hair yellow.

No, no no no no no. She can't show up to practice like this. (2) I am not a saging. Di ako pritong saba. 

Why, did you pick the color of a freaking Faber castell yellow highlighter? Is there something wrong with you?

“Ma! I’m going to the hair salon!” Neon brought the matter to her own hands. Blue. Any color would have been so much better than sunshine yellow. 90% of her hair was bleached blue, 10% bleached yellow. And of course, it was fair, you did it without her permission!

Thank goodness my soulmate has a better sense of style than me.

[ star chosen: the outline of your shadow is your soulmate . ]

After everything that transpired, OMEN was quite literally a shadow. A slight ribbon of relief slipped through Sage and Viper when it sank in. They didn't ruin everything for Omen, he still had his soulmate. His supposed other half. The supposed light in his darkness which would grab his hands from the pits of the endless dark. Lmao so there's a literal shadow as your shadow.

After Omen's physical form was long gone, your shadow would hide along with his, creating a fuzzled yet extraordinary figure of the both of you side by side. To his co-workers, it was just a shadow, but he saw yours as clear as day.

Friends and family shrieked once the form of your soulmate's shadow changed. What was that behind you?

astolary 2022 — do not edit, repost, or translate.

[sopejinsunflower]

Part 21

“Well, good riddance.”

Ginny gave me a disapproving look, eyebrows furrowed so close together they almost merged. I pretended not to see her reaction at what I said, busying myself with flipping through the script backwards and forwards before settling on a page. When it felt like she wouldn’t relent, I finally looked up to meet her gaze. “What?” I shrugged. “He was an asshole to me.”

She rolled her eyes. “He’s an intern. They all get on our nerves. But this is serious. He’s missing.”

I stared at her. “You said he quit.”

“No,” she replied. “I said he never came back to work since last Friday. He hasn’t reported anything to his supervisor and they can’t reach him.”

“Maybe he ran away from his internship. I’ve heard of those before,” I said back. “Almost did that myself back in college.”

Ginny sighed, looking out the window that overlooked the city of Seoul. “I hope that’s the case.”

Not even a week later, news spread that the intern whose name was Kenzo Kwon is missing from his apartment after his supervisor, Minji, decided to do a home visit after days of no contact. Things escalated when Minji called up the university that he was enrolled with to report on his absence only to be told that no final year student is registered under that name, never mind any of them being stationed at HYBE. The university itself is a technical college specialising mostly in physical skills so unless the company is a construction one, it didn’t make any sense that their student would be there.

The police were involved.

HYBE being a giant, news only circulated internally but people were more than freaked out. The other interns became direct hits of the investigation,  their internships halted. You can just imagine the uproar the company was in; a stranger, whose name we couldn’t even confirm was real, had infiltrated and posed as part of the temporary staff, whose access card granted him entrance to most of the office building, roaming around and had been disclosed to sensitive information, was now out there and on the loose. What’s worse, he had been in close contact with the company’s top assets: BTS.

Ginny and I, as well as the other hundred or so contract workers, were all under heavy fire. Our backgrounds were thoroughly checked and we were called in for questioning multiple times. This threw in a huge spanner in the drama series production and, in a desperate attempt to maintain business as usual, HYBE imposed a rule to change our access cards to only allow entrance to floors of the department we’re associated with. Any meetings with artists we were involved with, must happen on their specific floors, where we would have to go through hoops of paperworks to even be able to step onto. It was pure hell. It made everything hard to work on. It made seeing BTS, our main cast, a strenuous activity that happened only twice a month. Not only that, HYBE had double the amount of guards around the building, as well as the ones with the Bangtan boys.

The rumours had been even crazier.

Some said he was a spy from rival companies, getting tabs on disclosed information of HYBE’s artists future activities. Some dismissed him as just a deranged stalker, not of the artists but someone who works in the building, a jilted lover or a scorned husband, though to me, the first one seemed more plausible. The most ridiculous one of all was a favourite joke between Ginny and me, one that claimed that he’s actually an undercover agent, but the objective of his mission ranged from exposing abuse among interns to HYBE’s initiative to uncover power play among the employees to, the most absurd one, uncovering another undercover person. I even heard from one of the IT guys that they claimed him to be a rogue scientist but when I asked why, it was actually baseless. It was a bunch of DnD players creating stories in the IT room. Hell, I’m sure most of the rumours start from their bored asses.

“They’re so creative I might as well ask them to write the sequel to the drama,” I scoffed, sitting back and stretching my arms over my head. Ginny chuckled but she’s too engrossed in the paperwork that she had to fill for the upcoming whole crew meeting, which included BTS, of course and it was difficult enough to find a date that worked for both teams due their packed schedules. It gave me headaches just thinking about it.

This whole ordeal really made me wonder who he was and why he was there. He had been involved with the drama production but he wasn’t always there. He must’ve had other assigned tasks but Minji is of HIVE department, strictly working with literal publications. Was he attached to another department? I made a mental note to ask Minji the next time I see her but I was suddenly reminded of how much he got on my nerves. He was always asking strange questions when he was present in meetings, like those questions were somehow thought out to get under my skin. And that time when he came in to see me privately, what the hell was that? Who was he and what was he playing at?

Shrugging, I had gone back to work feeling irked and restless. The workplace I used to enjoy going to seemed so rigid and bleak now and it was sucking all the creativity juice out of me. I had a few more chapters of the story to scriptwrite but I had no motivation. HYBE, in the following weeks of the mystery investigation of Kenzo Kwon, had somehow turned into an open cage.

I was standing in front of the huge windows looking out over the city, lost in thought, when Ginny stormed up to me and threw her stuff into my chair. She groaned loudly, running her hands over her face. “Three days to the scheduled meeting and Choi is nowhere to be found! I need him to sign the papers! Do you know what a pain those paperworks is?! If we miss the deadline I’ll have to redo everything all over again!”

I put down my mug of latte which had already cooled hours ago. “Can’t you call him?”

“I did!” she huffed, exasperated. “It keeps going to voicemail. And when he is around, he always seems to be rushing and I can’t get a hold of him!”

“Well,” I said, keeping my voice cool to try and displace her irritation. “He is the head of this project. I’m sure he’s got a lot more on his plate to deal with right now. Does it have to be him? Can’t it be someone else? What about Kim? She’s the vice, she could sign in his place.”

Ginny sighed heavily, leaning back in the seat as if her spine just melted. “Fine. I’ll go find her now.”

I nodded. “Sounds good. Just explain the whole thing about Choi.”

“You know,” she said, glancing up at me. “He’s been missing the smaller meetings, too, lately. He’s barely there anymore.”

I shrugged. “Doesn’t surprise me. Things are fucked up right now with the whole Kenzo thing.”

“I mean, where is he disappearing to anyway?” Ginny asked, throwing her hands up. “He’s literally the head of the project, he should be here.”

I snorted. “Gin, we were going in and out of interrogation rooms both with the police and with the legal teams here just a couple of weeks ago. I’m sure he had more to bear as the leader. Just chill. You’ll get things sorted with or without the signatures, I’m sure.”

Ginny glared at me but didn’t answer back, a sign that she thought I was right. It had been hell for us to go up and down those interviews, as they called it, that we didn’t get any work done in those weeks. She stood up and collected her things again. “I just hope they figure out who he is soon and find him. I want this over with. It’s a fucking nightmare.”

“You and me both,” I replied. “I hope whatever happened didn’t spook our private investors away.”

Ginny looked at me. “What private investor?”

I kicked myself for saying it aloud because according to Mr Choi, not everyone was made aware of the news. “The NDA is there for a reason,” he had told me. But Ginny is my agent, who is basically my manager now, and it made me wonder why she wasn’t in the loop. I shake my head. “Nothing, forget it.”

“No, tell me. What private investor? We have a private investor?”

I threw my hands up in defence. “Look, I signed an NDA, okay? I can’t say. It just slipped out of my mouth.”

“You signed a what? When? For what?” Ginny took a step closer to me. “Why didn’t you tell me about it? Everything concerning you should go through me first especially anything that needs your signature.”

“Choi came to me directly, okay?” I said, getting annoyed. “And I’ve signed it and I’m not going to say anything more.”

“Well, who else knows?” she asked, hands on her hips.

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”

Ginny regarded me, her brows furrowing. She was chewing on her bottom lips. She took out her phone and started dialling, putting the phone to her ear. “Who’re you calling?”

“Choi,” she said. “I’ll get to the bottom of this if I have to drag him by his feet. And get the signatures while I’m at it.” She turned and left, slamming the door behind her.

***

I stare at the Monopoly board in disbelief, too afraid to even breathe in case it’s too loud to hear him properly.

Namjoon?

I’m here, baby.

That’s when I break down, crashing against the board game as the tears flow freely, gasping for air as I cry in mixed relief and happiness. The emotions washes over me like cleansing waves after waves, wracking my body until I’m shaking to my core. Strength has left me but the sweet, sweet elation of hearing his voice once again makes my heart bloom so greatly my brain is malfunctioning on how to express it. The tears were easy as they had always been there at the edges, waiting for release.

All at once, the boys start to speak with Namjoon, the telepathy link crowded and bursting with their voices both in shouts or cries or just pure ecstasy that I can barely understand what is being said or even who is actually speaking. They are speaking over each other that all Namjoon can do is laugh but I can hear it, too, in his voice, the strain melting away as he rejoices to the sound of his brothers’ call for him.

I push myself up on my wobbling elbows, turning to look at Taehyung’s wailing face and I pull him into a tight hug, the boy overwhelmed. Someone is pulling me by my shirt and I find myself in Hoseok’s arms next. His face is tear-stained but he’s more quiet, sniffling as he presses my face against his. “You did it. You reached him,” he mumbles through trembling lips.

“We did it,” I say, cupping his cheeks.

We break away and the first person I lock eyes with is Yoongi. He has tears still falling down his red cheeks, his eyes watery but the soft smile on his face feels like a gentle hand that finally calms my senses, reining them in again. I want so much to crawl into his lap but right now it seems that Jungkook needs it more than me. He has his head buried against Yoongi’s stomach as Yoongi rocks him like a child.

When everyone is settled again, when everyone has wiped the last tears and snots from their faces, when everyone is sitting down back in the circle (minus Jungkook who remains laying in Yoongi’s lap), we’re ready again to talk to Namjoon.

Joonie, can you hear me?

Yes, baby. Loud and clear. Anyone want to explain how this is happening?

I take a deep breath and look around at the others but everyone is staring back at me. Jin gives a small nod, urging me to keep talking. I…don’t know. I’m not exactly sure how but…oh God, I’m so glad to hear your voice again. I hold back another bout of tears, swallowing hard to stop myself from crying.

Me too, baby.

Jin wipes his nose. Yah, Namjoon-ah. I’m going to kick your ass so hard when I see you again.

Namjoon chuckles and I find myself smiling when I hear that. He’s alive, I think. He’s safe.

Namjoon-hyung. Jungkook’s mind-voice is feeble and we all turn to look at him wiping his face with his already wet sleeves. At that moment, he looks less like the twenty-four-year-old man that he is and more like the fifteen-year-old kid the six men took care of almost a decade ago. His alpha is also in the same state, small with his head on his own paws. I can’t quite make sense of this image I keep getting of our wolves but it feels real and is vivid in my head. Is it the result or the reason for when the telepathy link is established?

Jungkook-ah, Jin-hyung didn’t feed you well, did he?

Yah! I feed him more than enough!

Then why does he sound so small, hyung?

Jin is now up on his knees, hands flying and lips puckering even when he speaks internally. It’s funny to watch, like a game of Charades as Jin’s mental voice attacks Namjoon like a machine gun going off. Because he’s been worried sick about you, Namjoon-ah. You left without saying goodbye! You know how sensitive our maknae is! Your long-ass letter doesn’t count because it’s bullshit and how could you leave us with that map while you just easily surrender, hah? And you didn’t even talk to us and you didn’t tell us about what was happening before you left. I’m so mad at you right now for being so selfish and stingy and you think you’re Anpanman? Yaaaahhh! I have no more words to say!

He sits back down again, huffing and crossing his arms together. I’m trying to hide my smile to respect Jin’s anger but the way that he’s scrunching up his face tells me that he was mainly playing but there are truths in his words that every one of us silently agreed with. Namjoon lets out another small chuckle. Hyung, I’m sorry. When we see each other again, you can yell at me again, okay?

Yoongi clears his throat. Let’s catch up later. Namjoon-ah, where are you?

Namjoon sighs. I don’t know. A room, I guess.

Flashes of images fill my mind and I see Namjoon pacing a small white room, bare of nothing except a simple single bed, a small desk and a toilet in the corner. It looks like a prison setting, only brighter and more sterile. I see Namjoon wearing all white so it almost looks like he’s blending in with the walls and the sheets on the bed. I look up to Yoongi and notice the look on his face. Did we see what Namjoon is seeing?

Namjoon continues. They’ve locked me in here since I volunteered to come up. I don’t see anybody unless they’re bringing in food or when they’re taking blood samples. If this keeps going, I’m going to be drained. Look, his tone turns serious and I see an image of Namjoon sitting down on the edge of his bed, head in his hands. It’s a whole damn facility up here. I…I misjudged him.

We glance at each other, suddenly grim. Yoongi asks, Did you…did you meet him?

No, I didn’t, Namjoon answers. It’s a whole team of researchers, too. And they have armed guards.

We all remain silent, whatever hopes that resurrect with connecting with Namjoon diminishing little by little. Then Namjoon speaks again. I’m being watched twenty-four seven. There’s cameras in this room and they didn’t bother to hide it this time.

How big is the place? Jin asks, brows furrowed, chin against his chest.

I don’t know exactly but it looks like a hospital building.

Have you seen anything other than your room? I ask.

Except the hallways? No, not really, he says and I have a flash of Namjoon’s face frowning. The exit from the bunker is a hatch in the ground. It’s not guarded or locked but you’d have to come through another set of doors to get into the facility and that one uses this fancy keypad lock. The screen one that if you break it, it’ll just keep the lock on and trigger the alarm.

That’s when our hopes are dashed completely. I sit back weakly against Hoseok, letting out a shaky breath. That’s it. That’s the end of it. My lips trembled again and I bit down hard. “Great, how are we going to find out the combination?” I hear Hoseok mutter.

Yoongi asks, hesitantly, Do you, by any chance, know how many digits there are in the password?

Four, Namjoon answers without missing a beat. I’m confident because I heard the sound when they keyed them in. I just- fuck, I should’ve paid more attention to the numbers.

I sit up, an idea forming. This is ridiculous, but do you…remember the sounds?

Namjoon is silent for a moment before saying, Maybe? If I can hear it again, maybe I can remember the sequence.

“But we don’t even know the digits,” Jimin mumbles, looking at me from across the Monopoly board.

I turn to Jin. “Do we have flour in the kitchen?”

Jin nods. “Lots but this is hardly the time to bake, sweetie.”

Yoongi suddenly smacks Jin on the thigh, a loud resounding sound that makes Jin yelps, rubbing at his leg and glaring at Yoongi in a what the fuck way. But Yoongi is looking at me, eyes and mouth wide as he understands exactly what I plan to do. “You’re a fucking genius! That’s right! We could use the flour!”

I grin back at him, nodding. I hear Namjoon growls playfully, My baby’s fucking smart.

I think back, If we can find the digits and try it out a couple of times, maybe you’ll remember the sequence and-

And we won’t have to go through ten thousand trials and errors! Yoongi finishes, gripping Jungkook’s shoulder so hard he finally sits up, rubbing at the spot.

I notice Taehyung and Jimin looking confused as hell, looking back and forth between me and Yoongi. Hoseok’s face is just blank, staring at me. Jimin speaks this time, his voice dripping in sarcasm, annoyed for being left behind. Please, somebody translate everything into a language we can all understand.

I laugh, clapping my hands once. “Haven’t you watched any spy or crime movies? They always use some sort of powder to put over any screens to get fingerprints off!”

Taehyung starts tapping Jimin on the arm excitedly. “Oh, oh! I know! The fingerprints will show which numbers are pressed!”

“Ding, ding, ding!” I crow aloud and even Hoseok is laughing and clapping his hands.

“Waahh!” exclaims Hoseok. “Daebak!”

And then, in unison and comically so, Jimin and Taehyung turn to each other, both have their thumbs up in each other’s faces and parrot, “Bak, bak!”

The room roars into laughter and I get another image of Namjoon trying to hide his grin behind his hand. It’s been a long time since the house feels less like a prison, a long time since there’s actual, real and distinct hope of getting out of here, a long time since I feel this lightness in my chest. I want to see you again, baby, I hear Namjoon saying and judging from the other guys still laughing and joking, I knew it was a private thought only for me. I want to see your pretty little ass again, he repeats, his domineering aura travelling through the link that sends delicious shivers up my spine.

“So when do we do this?” Taehyung asks aloud, and then remembering to include Namjoon, repeats the question through telepathy.

Tonight. When the lights go out after midnight. You might have a chance, then. There’s a slight resoluteness in Namjoon’s voice that sounded foreboding and I’m not the only one who picked up on it. Yoongi and Jin exchange sombre looks, a look that shoots fear through my heart but I try not to pay it much attention. No one wants to ask about the armed guards but Namjoon sends flashing images, his memories of them so we get an idea. They look like normal soldiers but instead of green they wear grey and wear balaclavas, an M4 Carbine slung around one shoulder each as they march Namjoon to his new room.

“We can’t all go,” Yoongi suddenly says. “We’re still under surveillance and it’ll alert them if all of us are missing.”

I don’t like the idea that some of us are left down here or even only one of us up there but Yoongi has a point. We would have a better chance with stealth and in our current situation, stealth means a smaller number. The question is; who gets to go up?

We need to secure the surveillance room first, says Namjoon, his tone dark. If we can take out the guards there, the others will have a chance to come up. We have to be smart and mostly, we have to be patient. The last sentence feels like it’s directed for me but then again, I might not be the only one apprehensive about a smaller number leaving. We have no actual clue what to expect and in contrast to stealth, strength can only come with a bigger number.

How do we decide who will go? Jin asks, looking around at all of us and seeming to skip me, something I find a little offensive.

Suddenly, like a wave sweeping over, the all-too familiar sense of Namjoon’s alpha settled over us and I knew then that he had already chosen. Jungkookie, Namjoon calls gently. You think you can handle it?

Jungkook pushes off of Yoongi, his shoulders suddenly growing wider as he straightens up. He looks at me briefly and I see his alpha wolf has also sat up, head and ears perked. What do you need me to do, hyung?

After reciting the plan for the third time,Namjoon decided to do it tonight.

Midnight was just around the corner and it didn’t take long for us to wait, anxious and sick to our stomachs. Jungkook is quiet from when the plan was laid out until now, sitting on the stairs with his elbows on his knees, staring holes into the floor, his brows knitted.

“You think he’s going to be fine?” I hear Hoseok whisper to Jin who in turn looks at the maknae for a long time, never answering. Jin, who earlier had slapped Jungkook on the back and enthusiastically said “If anyone can do it, it’ll be you, JK,” doesn’t look so confident now. Or maybe he’s just worried. We have no idea what’s to come.

Yoongi pulls me aside into the reading area, away from everyone else. His grip on my wrist is tight, his nails digging into my skin. He stares deep into my eyes and this close I can see the light facial hair coming in and how sunken his cheeks look now. He looks torn between what to say next but I run my hand through his hair, his hair which now has grown long. “I’m going to be fine,” I say with a smile. “You don’t have to worry.”

“Bullshit,” he replies softly. “Everyone is worried. I don’t know why Namjoon wants you to go with Jungkook. I have no fucking clue what he’s thinking. It’s dangerous up there.”

“It’s dangerous whether I go or not,” I say back, sliding my arms around him. “And I think two is better than one.”

“Then I’ll go,” he says, pulling me close, “you stay here.”

I put my palm against his warm cheek, noting how his lashes curled back, how soft his skin is and how close we have become whether by living in proximity or because of our altered DNA. In the back of my mind, I have this sudden flashback to when I had only been an ARMY, one among the millions, who only got to look at them from behind barriers or on screens. I’m reminded of that first day when they walked into the room and me thinking how reality felt like a fantasy in that small moment, excited at the prospect of being able to work together. I remember the first time I sat together with them at the cafeteria table after work and Yoongi had brought over eight bottles of different types of sodas. When he put one in front of me, he said casually without making eye contact, “No alcohol because writer-nim is a teetotal.”

“There must be a reason Namjoon chose me,” I start, caressing his cheek with my thumb. “And if he’d think I couldn’t do it, he wouldn’t have.”

“Are you saying I’m doubting you?”

“Are you?”

His eyes bore into mine and I see a million emotions flicker through them, none of which he could express with words. “Shibal,” he mutters, his mouth fusing against mine in a kiss so rough it feels more like a desperate attempt to merge us together, a way to keep me with him when I have to go up top later with Jungkook, just as Namjoon had planned. When he pulls away, I see blood on his lips and taste the copper on my tongue, unsure if it was mine or his lips that had split. It didn’t seem to matter. “Don’t you dare die. You hear me?”

I let out a dry giggle, shaking my head. “That’s the ultimate plan.” Then my tone drops, the smile wiped off my face. “You, too, Min Yoongi.”

He doesn’t say anything but squeezes me, an unsaid confirmation, a gesture instead of words that could be held against him if he fails to do so. I’m not satisfied but Jin is calling for me before I have a chance to argue.

In the living room, the boys are slowly remaking the nest, the Monopoly board now abandoned on one of the sofas. Without warning, my omega slips into action, whining and pushing them off so that she could do it properly, fluffing up pillows, arranging the blankets and random clothing items, organising the other stuff that makes up the nesting materials. I have a feeling this would be the last time I would prepare the nest for the pack, one last comfort I can leave behind for them, in case the plan goes to hell. The way the boys hold back, watching from the rim of the nest, I didn’t need telepathy to read their minds; they share the same notion. The air is thick and heavy with it, a sort of finality shrouding us. No one said anything much.

When I’m done, I sit in the middle of it, cross-legged, and look up at them. Yoongi is barely looking back, his eyes roam the room, anything but at me, blinking furiously. Jin is the first to come in, fluffing his pillow and patting the spot next to him. I crawl over and he envelops me in his arms, chin resting on the top of my head. Jimin cuddles close next to us and Taehyung takes the other side. Hoseok settles next to Jimin, looking back at Jungkook who is still standing out. “Jungkookie,” he calls, his voice the happy-go-lucky Hoseok that I haven’t heard in so long. “Come inside and be my hug pillow.”

Jungkook gives a small smile, a light snort as if he’s about to roll his eyes but complies, going over to his Hoseok-hyung and letting the older one manhandle him, bear-hugging him, one leg over his thigh. “You’re heavy, hyung,” he complains but Hoseok doesn’t relent and Jungkook does nothing to push him off, even hugging Hoseok’s leg against himself.

Yoongi is in the nest last, his scent heavy and brooding. He settles opposite of me, his toes reaching over to nudge mine, one foot in between my two feet.

I feel Namjoon’s alpha’s commanding air blanketing us before I hear him. Now, sleep, and the house falls into a deep slumber.

I awoke to Jungkook shaking my shoulders, a grim look on his face. I rub sleep from my eyes and sit up, Jin’s arm falling slack to hit Jimin across the chest but neither even stir. I stuff a pillow in my spot and pull the blanket up, doing the same as what Jungkook did with his, Hoseok now hugging an actual pillow. We stand outside the nest looking in for a moment longer, wondering if this was what Namjoon did before he left us, what Namjoon had felt before he walked out. This sinking feeling of not knowing if we’ll meet again, an unspoken goodbye as we go to meet an unknown fate wrought through my heart and I feel Jungkook’s hand squeezing mine. “I took care of the reading area cameras. We should go.”

I let Jungkook guide me, the house silent and dark, made even darker since there is no fake moon to shine through the windows. He removes the Bible from the shelf and peers in between the book. He reaches in, feeling for the switch I had found and turns to me.

“You sure they won’t notice the one camera out?” I whisper.

“Let’s just hope they don’t,” he answers softly. “Ready?”

I’m not but I nod anyway, steeling my nerve and gritting my teeth together. I hear a soft click as he presses on it and hold my breath. The shelf itself lets out a sigh and we both take a few steps back, watching with wide eyes as it somehow sinks into the wall before rolling sideways to reveal an opening. The light flickers inside and the sudden brightness makes us squint as we look at what looks like a small square room. When my eyes adjust, I see it for what is; a landing area, the entrance to the hatch. Silver rungs of ladder line the wall directly in front of us leading upward and as we inch closer, head tilting up to see, I almost missed a breath.

That is a long way up.

I gulp, staring at Jungkook whose Adam’s apple is sticking in my face as he’s craning his neck as if that will help him see the top end of the ladder. We hear another heavy sigh and jump, looking back as the shelf slides back into place. That’s when I noticed the button on the side wall, probably to open it again from this side. The light in the room flickers and then turns off but the ladder shaft is still lit. Jungkook puts one hand on the rung and then a foot. “I’ll go first. Watch your step, noona.”

We climb up in total silence, our bare feet barely making a sound against each metal. My palms are starting to sweat and I dare not look down. I’m starting to feel claustrophobic, breathing heavily and keeping my eyes level with my hands instead of putting too much pressure on my neck looking up towards Jungkook. My arms are getting tired and it feels like we’ve been climbing for hours. Just a little bit more,  says Jungkook in my head but even I can hear him panting.

Then Jungkook stops and I halt just before the rung his feet is on. I look up and whisper, “What is it?”

Jungkook looks down, sweat lining his hairline. “It’s the hatch.”

My heart starts thudding a little faster, pushing down thoughts about what negative outcome this is going to lead to. I wait with bated breath, watching Jungkook carefully and slowly turning the wheel of the hatch. It makes a creaking sound on the first turn that spikes my heart rate even more but it turns smoothly the rest of the way. When the wheel finished turning all the way, Jungkook pauses and peers down at me again. “Noona,” he calls in a small voice, “ready?”

I count to ten before finally nodding. Jungkook hesitates for a moment before turning back around to the hatch. He lays his palm flat against the surface. Namjoon-hyung, he calls out, I hope you’re right.

Gwenchana, comes Namjoon’s reply. The security door is what you should worry about.

Jungkook nods even though he knows Namjoon couldn’t have seen that. With a deep breath, he pushes open the hatch, his shoulder muscles straining. The hatch swings open but instead of thumping on its back on the other side, the hinges hold it open at a hundred and twenty degree angle. All I can see beyond Jungkook is the white smooth ceiling and the bright fluorescent light of the other side. Jungkook climbs out, sticking his head out, looking around once before pulling himself fully out. He squats around the lip of the hatch and holds out a hand. I take his hand and climb up after him. We both remain low on the ground, taking in the room that resembles the landing pad down below. No cameras in sight.

Topside, finally. Is it just me or does it feel lighter? But at the thought of the rest of the pack still sleeping somewhere below me gives my stomach a funny feeling.

Jungkook gently lowers the hatch but doesn’t lock it. He nods towards the only exit, a double steel door with a red line across it that says authorised personnel only in yellow. Just like Namjoon said, a keypad is stuck on the wall next to it, the screen black. We both approach it, staring at it as if it might suddenly grow a mouth with razor sharp teeth and start attacking us. Jungkook waves a hand over it and suddenly the screen lights up, showing the numbers.

I fish out the small ziplock bag of flour from my pocket and open it. I take a small handful of it and look at Jungkook, suddenly feeling silly. He shrugs and I sigh. Here goes nothing. I throw the flour over the screen, expecting to fail because it can’t be that easy, can it? But there they were; white-floured fingerprints over the digit one, three, six and zero. Jungkook and I stare at each other in awe.

Hyung, we have the digits. It’s one, three, six, zero.

Good. Let me listen to the sounds.

Okay, ears up.

Jungkook laughs softly before he presses them one by one in slow succession, letting Namjoon hear the notes. To my ears, there’s not much difference between one from the other but as a music producer, I do hope his hearing is much more attuned. I stand back and let Jungkook handle the keypad lock, praying silently that the door won’t suddenly open from the other side.

Can you try it one more time?

There’s a waver in Namjoon’s voice that gives me a bad feeling but I chalk that up to nerves breaking at the seams with each passing valuable seconds that we have. How many tries do we actually have before the keypad locks on itself and sounds the alarm? I watch as Jungkook presses the digits once more and the keypad beeps to let us know it’s the wrong code, twice now. Fuck. Namjoon is quiet and Jungkook’s finger wavers above the pad. I watch his Adam’s apple bob a few times and I hug my arms together to stop myself from shaking. C’mon, Namjoon, I think. Now’s not the time to play dumb.

Jungkook-ah, Namjoon says, try zero, six, one, three.

Again, Jungkook nods and slowly presses the numbers.

Fuck, that’s not it, says Namjoon just as Jungkook hits the last digit and keypad lets out a warning sound. I press my eyes together, silently praying to whoever or whatever is listening for Namjoon to get the code right the next try.

Okay, okay. Let’s try six, zero, one, three.

The keypad lock beeps again and this time it comes with a warning that we have one last try. Jungkook glances towards me, fear reflecting in his eyes. I reach out a hand and he takes it, linking our fingers together, sweaty palm against sweaty palm. We both can hear Namjoon cursing and swearing but I knew this was a long shot. We all did.

Joonie, I call out, maybe we can put this off for another time. We can think about the combi-”

Wait! Hold on! Just let me think.

I exchange looks with Jungkook, shaken not by the aggression in Namjoon’s voice but the desperation. This is starting to be more dangerous than futile. We stay silent, letting Namjoon blow off steam and I get an image of him pacing his room angrily, pulling at his hair. I’m about to comfort him, to tell him that it’s fine, we can come back another time once we gather ourselves when we hear something from the other side of the door.

“Someone’s coming,” Jungkook says in a panic whisper, his hand gripping mine so tight I think my bones might pop but the terror that’s taking ahold of me is much greater than the pain that I barely notice. The noise is louder now and it’s clearer that whoever or whatever it is, it’s right on the other side. We hear the faint beeping of the keypad lock, the one from the outside and I think my heart is now in my throat. Jungkook and I both take a few steps back and I contemplate the thought of jumping back down the hatch.

The hatch, I think aloud to Jungkook. We can jump back down.

We won’t make it.

GO! Namjoon’s mind voice shouts so loud it sounded physical that my ears are ringing. Get the fuck outta-

Too late.

We hear the keypad lock beeps in a lighter note just as the similar one on our side blinks green with the words DOOR UNLOCK written across it. Jungkook steps in front of me, one hand shielding me. His alpha awakens, hair bristling and going into protective mode; ears down, growling as Jungkook’s scent heightens, his pheromones the strongest it has ever been. I’ve never seen this alpha Jungkook, seeming that he had always been the smallest among the other three. But now, at this moment, Jeon Jungkook looks to be the most ferocious, his back hard, his shoulders wide, ready to tear through a whole army with his bare hands. I clench the back of his shirt, not to hold him back but more for comfort because as the door unlocks and the automatic system jumps to life, I think this is it.

The steel doors finally slide open and my grip tightens. My only thought is, as my omega bares her teeth and prepares to attack alongside her alpha, no way in hell Jungkook is fighting alone.

a/n: before you guys scream about the cliffhanger, I KNOW! IM IN PAIN TOO T_T but as always, let me know what you think in the comment or ask. I feel I have a few aces up my sleeves before this story wraps up xx

Next part: here!

Check out my other works → :MASTERLIST:

Taglist (open):

@mayla548 @just-me-and-myselfs @l7bangtan @juju-227592 @singukieee @kawaiikpoplover268 @ot7nem @beeeee06 @feedthefandoms995 @rapunzel76 @colourlyhobbit @jinscharms @cestlabellemort @purpleskyyyy @donghaesgirl91 @toughbook @lucymultistan @mcusuperfreak @blaaiissee @emoskytime8 @effielumiere @channiespup @pissbabybitchboy @flordepams @doublebunv

[melaningifs]

So I’m asian and honestly I find your blog kinda offensive. Most of your post are of originally asian characters but you racebent them so they aren’t anymore. It feels kinda hypocritical that you say whitewashing is bad because it takes away representation from POC but then you turn around and take away asian rep. Before you say “blasains exist” it doesn’t matter you still chose to look at a POC and say “hmm they’re not POC enough so let’s darken their skin” it’s really hurtful that this happens it makes me (and definitely others) feel like we’re not allowed to have rep without someone saying that “it’s not good POC rep because they’re basically white” (which is not true). Just let me ask you how would you feel if I took a canonically black character and made them chinese. Would you be mad? Because according to your logic you shouldn’t because they’re both POC.

What makes them Asian characters to you? Because they’re made in Asia? A lot of the characters I do don’t have disclosed races or exist in a fantasy land where that probably doesn’t exist

Does having dark skin make them any less Asian? They don’t even have to be mixed or blasian some asians just don’t have pale skin, melanin is just a thing people, news flash 

The way you phrase this comes off as you thinking having darker skin is an insult to asians

“It feels kinda hypocritical that you say whitewashing is bad because it takes away representation” I really hope you’re not implying that my edits are at all equivalent to whitewashing… do you genuinely believe there is a shortage of pale skinned Asian anime characters in anime? (Asian’s is in italics cause they might not even have a race) If your answer is no than I really think you’d be able to understand the difference of my edits to whitewashing

If you wanted to make a black character Chinese you’d first have to dig to find that black character in the first place so out of the tons of characters out there you choose to convert the black one would be really strange of you especially considering they’re usually side characters, have significantly less screen time to their counterparts, and the show their in might not even be well known, all the series with my favourite black representation, none of them are mainstream, compared to bigger anime like naruto, death note, sailor moon, dragon ball, pretty popular anime that anyone that’s been in the anime community long enough wouldve heard atleast one of these names, sailor moon? No black/dark skin characters and if there was there’s probably a reason why I wouldn’t even know if they existed, hmmm lack of screen time or importance in the series in comparison to their pale counterparts perhaps? What about death note? none existent. Naruto? There’s fuu but she’s barely known about, for reason I’ve listed above and dragon ball is straight up racist caricatures, you could say that it’s just the anime that I’ve decided to use an example but it really does apply to all the most popular, and sure there’s anime out there with black protagonists but you really have to purposefully look for them to find them. 

“ Before you say “blasains exist” it doesn’t matter you still chose to look at a POC and say “hmm they’re not POC enough so let’s darken their skin” “ what?????????? What prompted you to think I ever thought “they’re not POC enough”? What I’m getting from this is that you don’t at all understand why I make these edits, it’s literally in my bio but I’ll spell it out for you I geuss, it’s so that black/darker skinned people can feel seen in the characters and anime that they love, so I have no idea where you got the idea of “making them more poc” even came from 

I have asians followers that don’t feel offended by my edits or upset by adding melanin to characters so maybe there’s a memo you’re missing

I actually have a resource that debunks everything you’ve said in a lot fewer words because I reallyyyy didn’t feel like re-explaining this but I feel like there are just a lot of things you misunderstand which lead you to jump to strange conclusions so I hope this clears things up for you, here’s the resource anyways tho

This resource and more linked in my rentry

[mimzy-writing-online]

Hello. I had a question regarding your post about blind characters. I have a character in my WIP that must cover their eyes.. but it’s blind. He may need to tell people he is blind to explain why he covers his eyes though. I was wondering how I might write this character without offending. Thank you :)

I think I want to start by explaining the “covering blind eyes” trope and why it has become a harmful trope. I think understanding why it’s hurtful helps everyone learn how to handle it better.

I would guess that the “blind people wear sunglasses” trope comes from Hollywood for the specific reason of 1. wanting to signal to the audience that the character is obviously blind and 2. avoid breaking the suspension of disbelief by preventing the audience from catching the sighted actor look at visual stimuli (because disabled characters are almost always played by able actors).

But this changed the way the public expects to experience blindness. If watching a sighted actor wear sunglasses and say he’s blind is all the exposure to the blind community a person has had, that’s the only model of blindness they’ll recognize. If they meet a blind person in real life who doesn’t wear sunglasses, it’s going to break this built perception and cause an uncomfortable cognitive dissonance. 

And then there is the common “cloudy-white blank gaze” that pops up in media. It stems from the fact that cataracts is the most common cause of blindness and the appearance of severe cataracts is a cloudy film in the eyes obscuring the iris and pupil. It can also alter what color a person’s eyes appears to be, making them appear paler and grey in the beginning and then as the cataract advances it becomes more yellow/brown and alters a person’s vision to appear more yellow tinted.

There are lots of other eye conditions that makes the eyes look visibly different. Albinism for instance affects the color and structure of the iris. Eyes might be congenitally misshapen. The muscles might be weak or not work and one or both eyes point significantly outward. Someone who was born blind and experienced no visual stimuli might also have weak muscles around their eyes because they never had a reason to focus their eyes on anything.

And unfortunately humans have the habit of feeling uncomfortable when they meet someone who looks very obviously different from the norm, whether that’s a personal style choice (hair color and style, tattoos, clothing choices) or something they can’t help (a visible disability, skin color, scars). 

To the paragraph above, @gothhabiba replied with:  “it's very weird & ahistorical to claim that racism or ableism are some kind of natural "human" trait.. like frankly it's apologia”

You’re right, I wasn’t thinking beyond that generalization or assumption.

Perhaps a better way to put it is: I was raised in a society where I was taught from childhood to think that there was only one kind of human being to be. White, cis, straight, abled, conservative. That’s a very western thing and that’s a thing I’m going to constantly be unlearning.

Racism and ableism and homophobia aren’t innate, that’s a western thing that was forced onto the rest of the world by colonialism. And because western media created this idea that the world is white, abled, cis, straight, and Christian-value leaning, it taught people to think that was the norm so that seeing someone different from that archetype would cause a cognitive dissonance, which causes discomfort.

And instead of working past that cognitive dissonance to learn more and realize there’s so much more to life than media taught you, society encourages you to ignore that cognitive dissonance by sticking your head in the sand-- or TV screen.

So combine these two tropes or common beliefs together and you get something a little dangerous: the idea that blind people cover their eyes because they look obviously different and they’re ashamed (or should be ashamed) of that.

And if you’re someone who’s just gone blind or who was born blind and you have little to no contact with the blind community, then this societal belief that you should be ashamed of how your eyes look becomes detrimental to your self-esteem and further builds internalized ableism.

I’ve lost count of the times I’ve read or watched a blind character cover their eyes with sunglasses because they were ashamed of how their eyes looked. And I distinctly remember a few times where a sighted friend of the character was trying to convince them to stop wearing sunglasses because there’s nothing wrong with looking different--which is true, but it plays into this fantasy of being the perfect abled ally who saves the blind character from being miserable. 

In an ideal world, the character has no reason to believe looking different is a bad thing or diminishes their worth or makes people dislike them. And if they develop this belief, it’s more likely that someone more involved in the disabled community, most likely someone disabled themselves, will set them straight. Or that the character will learn to accept themselves on their own, looks included.

But there are some perfectly valid reasons for any blind person to wear sunglasses. They might have an interest in fashion and sunglasses complete the look they’re going for. They could want to protect their eyes from UV rays while they’re outside. They may experience light sensitivity and sunglasses reduces any discomfort or pain. Those are incredibly common reasons to wear sunglasses whether you’re sighted or blind.

But there are some more complicated situations.

In your words, your character must cover his eyes. You never specified why, so my primary guess is that he has some kind of power that is unpleasant or has devastating affects and the only way to prevent it is to keep his eyes covered. My primary guess stems from this post where an anon and I discussed a retelling of Medusa, a hypothetical blinding of oneself to avoid ever killing anyone ever again, and what I think I would do if I was in that scenario.

So how do you write a blind character who must cover their eyes and avoid some of the complications?

1. Your character must always have the ability to say “fuck off, it’s my business, I don’t have to tell you why I’m blind or why I cover my eyes.”

Most blind people really, really don’t want to get into the nitty-gritty of why they’re blind and how they feel about it and what it’s like being blind with a stranger they’ll never see again or a new acquaintance they don’t know well yet. You have exceptions to that rule where sure, educating the public about blindness is a thing you want to do and you’re committed to helping your community, but I still have days where I don’t want to talk about being blind or disclose my medical crap.

And if someone doesn’t respect their right to their privacy or pushes too much, the blind character is allowed to be angry, is allowed to tell them off and complain without anyone else in the situation vilifying them or saying they’re “overreacting” and “should have just disclosed private information because big deal or whatever.” If they are angry, that’s their right, and it’s not unreasonable, it doesn’t make them a bad person.

2. Your character should not be ashamed of being blind or of covering their eyes. It is a part of their life, they’re used to it by now, even if they weren’t in the beginning.

The shame and internalized ableism is something that should be written about, but that’s for an own-voices story with a blind author. I don’t think an abled person will ever be able to understand how much society expects you to hate yourself and your disability because “being disabled is a tragic thing that ruins your life” and how that does affect your mental health, self esteem, your relationships with others, your medical care, and what kind of accommodations you can get.

3. It wouldn’t hurt to have a few sarcastic lines in response to uncomfortable conversations.

Stranger: so what’s with the...

Blind Character: what’s with what?

S: the... you know

BC: you’re gonna have to be a bit more specific

S: Your eyes?

BC: They’re... eyes

S: but you’re...

BC: Blind?

S: uh...

BC: yeah, I’m blind. *walks away*

Or this conversation:

S: *to some other character* so why are his eyes covered?

(author’s note: which, honestly, that’s fucking rude. At least have the guts to ask me yourself)

BC: If I look anyone in the eye they instantly perish.

*awkward silence*

BC: instantly.

Friend: It’s truly tragic

BC: *melancholic* that’s how I lost my sister. *chokes up* She was so young

Or this conversation:

S: Why are you wearing that?

BC: It’s called fashion Karen!

Or this conversation:

S: are you like... blind?

BC: yes?? why wouldn’t I be?? Wait, are you sighted? Are you one of those sighted people? You poor thing! What caused you to gain your sight? Do you have a car? A bike? Were you born sighted? What’s it like to see color? Do you miss not having to see 

God, I want a chance to try that last one. I haven’t interacted with a stranger in almost a year. One day...

4. Honestly, it’d also be cool if someone’s reaction to your character covering their eyes was like, “cool sunglasses,” or “cool *insert random character, even one you made up* cosplay,” (which is ten times funnier if this character is a notable figure in modern society like an actor who people might cosplay). 

5. You know, if he’s covering his eyes with some kind of blindfold, he should totally have custom blindfolds for his moods. Like, I have a mask that says “suck it up buttercup” and another that says “not today” because sometimes that’s the mood. And sometimes the mood is one of my floral masks, and sometimes the mood is my cat mask.

So, just some thoughts. I hope that helps.

Edit: a commenter said: “op, unless i'm mistaken this kind of reads like anon meant the character ISN'T blind but lies about being blind to explain covering their eyes? it seems like they made a typo on the word "isn't"”

So my original response to the question was based on the assumption that the character is blind. However,

If the character is not blind, then do not under any circumstances have them lie and say they’re blind to escape a mild inconvenience. 

It’s better to have the character actually explain the situation or straight up leave the conversation or invent a more ridiculous lie than to perpetuate the very real stereotype and misconception that there are people who fake being blind and therefore it’s okay to discriminate or harass them if you even suspect they’re faking.

Do not under any circumstances perpetuate that stereotype. Do not harass someone because you don’t think they’re blind enough.

[wonlouvre]

pairing: doctor!wonwoo x lawyer!female oc genre: modern royalty, arranged marriage, fluff and future angst word count: 3.4k WARNINGS: ANGST (i think it’s just minor though), police and prosecution procedures (someone gets arrested).

a/n: disclaimer!! once again, i am in no way well-versed with investigations and trial procedures. please correct me i have made any mistakes. and!! if you noticed, i made revisions at part 7. our boo seungkwan is a prosecutor at the supreme prosecutor’s office instead of the justice department. they’re completely different agencies. anyway, this part will either make or break our couple. please send me what you think!! i hope you enjoy <3

eight: for all the wrong reasons | masterlist

Whatever you’re doing right now would probably go against Seungkwan’s superior’s orders and oath to the Supreme Prosecutor’s Office. But does he care? He doesn’t. Is he scared? He’s not. He never was, unless he’s engaging in something definitely illegal. Well, speaking about a particular case outside the circle of his office in the first place is already illegal. But you are inside and within the office already. Seungkwan will take care of the consequences later

Seungkwan is simple and quick enough to suggest meeting with you at the conference room of their building. He knows you and how much you want to know about this case. This is just a favor he’s returning because he’s grateful that the information you have about the victims made him one step closer to solving and ending this nightmare. 

The prosecutor also invited Wonwoo which could only mean that there are matters that involve the neighboring kingdom and that made you worry. It’s already shameful that this is happening within your kingdom’s territory. But to harm the people of the neighboring kingdom is a different kind of shame and disgust. Everything about this is shameful and disgusting. 

You could go straight to Their Majesties and talk about this, but the Prime Minister already released a statement earlier this morning to appease the public. After much colorful words and apologies, the Royal Family has pledged to cooperate in any investigation and invitation to the court. If you’re being honest, that’s good to hear. If you’re being a lawyer, that only means someone is guilty. 

Seungkwan is currently connecting his laptop to the projector in the background and as he’s about to finish, you can’t help but feel nervous. You were playing with your fingers when Wonwoo placed his hand on yours. He seems to have taken note of your actions whenever you feel a certain way and following that, he seems to finally know how to react to them.

It’s a relief that he’s here even though he shouldn’t have to. More than anyone else, you’re ashamed to be in front of Wonwoo. Ever since you met Jung and Sam, Wonwoo has been nothing but supportive and faithful. Although he has always been, it just got amplified this time around. You ask yourself, if you were to be with someone potentially involved in a crime syndicate, would you stay? Would you believe in them? Would you fight with them? 

You also wish you could ask Wonwoo that. But, a big part of you is afraid to know the obvious answer.

“Are you okay?” Wonwoo asks and the squeeze he gives your hand frees your mind from the scary thoughts plaguing it.

You squeeze his hand back and nod. “Yeah. Just a little tired.”

Wonwoo doesn’t press you any further and just nudges the strands of hair that’s been tickling your eyes. 

It’s right then Seungkwan clears his throat and takes his stand at the podium. “Good morning, Your Highness.”

You sit up straight and lean your elbows on the desk, all ears for what he has to say. 

“Tomorrow, at 12:00 in the afternoon, the Supreme Prosecutor’s Office together with the Justice Department will release a joint statement regarding this case. Today, I will brief you with the findings and facts of the initial investigation because I know we are all curious,” he starts before pressing the next arrow key on his laptop. “After this meeting, however, I won’t be able to disclose to you the developments of this case anymore because a week from now, the first trial will be held.

“I have requested the presence of His Highness, Prince Wonwoo, for this is something that concerns his people,” he continues to flash the next slide, “It has been confirmed by Immigration that the prime suspects and victims are citizens of the neighboring kingdom. The prosecution has already requested to Their Majesties of the neighboring Kingdom to grant us the right to investigate and try the prime suspects within our jurisdiction before we deport them. The request was granted and the prosecution is given 94 days to do what we should and what we can.”

You turn to Wonwoo to gauge his reaction. He meets your eyes and just nods, telling the two of you that the presentation can go on. You bring your attention back to Seungkwan and he proceeds to the next slide. 

“According to the orphanage, the victims were adopted earlier this year with complete and legal documents. So we can understand that technically, they weren’t smuggled,” he explains and points at the mentioned documents flashed on the screen. “Right now, we are investigating the following departments: Trade and Industry, Immigration, and Justice. Alongside with that, we are also investigating the orphanage, the Cabinet and,” a brief pause, “the Royal Family.”

The Royal Emblem flashed on the screen and it didn't look as moral as it used to when Seungkwan ended his presentation. You have no basis to make such claims, but you can’t be blamed either. You want to cry and scream because the anger is too much to bear. But you swallow everything and remain silent. 

“We understand that Her Highness expressed her desire to represent the victims, however the court cannot allow that,” Seungkwan says regretfully before announcing, “We would like to inform you that you could be summoned one of these days,” he then turns to Wonwoo,  “Furthermore, the victims will be interviewed and we ask His Highness to let Social Services take care of them. We respect your attachment and concern for them, but it is of utmost importance that they are in our custody.”

Wonwoo complies with a nod and asks one last question, “Is it confirmed that it’s a violation of the Protection of Children against Abuse, Exploitation and Discrimination Act?” 

Seungkwan nods and sighs, dejected. “The prime suspects are making it difficult, but we’re sure that it is.”

“Don’t you have to go back to the hospital today?” You ask Wonwoo while you drape your coat on your office chair. 

“I took the day off,” he answers and makes himself comfortable on one of the couches. 

You nod and press the on button of your computer. “I’d love you to stay, but I mean it when I say that you won’t have a blast lounging here.”

Wonwoo laughs and the sound of it makes you smile. You watch him lean his head back against the soft cushion and close his eyes. You’re sure he’s thinking about it as much as you do. And it’s only making him even more tired than he already is. You breathe out a sigh and amble your way to take the space beside him. 

“Go home and sleep,” you whisper and gingerly tap his cheek. 

Wonwoo holds your wrist and nestles his face close to your palm. He opens his eyes shortly after and his gaze has got you blinking in surprise, making him grin. You give his cheek a playful pinch to which he groans against.

You only let go when he sits up straight and turns his body to you. He takes your hands and pulls you closer, your knees touching his.  “I’m actually going home, home tonight.”

You stiffen, aware of where this conversation is going. “Oh.”

“My family wants me present as they discuss this whole case,” he says while his fingers stroke the back of your hand. “It won’t be long though. Three days tops.”

You silently nod, keeping your eyes at your intertwined hands. You don’t have any recollection of talking about your engagement ring. It doesn’t have any history with Wonwoo’s ancestors of some sort. But, you know that he chose it with his father. It’s a stainless steel silver band, no diamond visible. But the words for eternity engraved on the inner portion is made of it. 

You’re suddenly afraid that the shine is already tarnished and you’d have to remove it. 

The two of you don’t need to admit and say everything out loud. But, your engagement is already tested and whatever the court rules is crucial for the survival of your relationship. You’re already uneasy because you don’t see yourself letting go of Wonwoo. You can’t let go of Wonwoo. But now he’s going home and you’re not so confident in what his parents would say. 

What if they don’t deem you fit to marry their Crowned Prince anymore?

“I have something to give you.” Wonwoo lets go of your one hand to pull out something from his pocket, making you bring your gaze back at him. He holds it in a fist and flips your other hand with your palm upwards. You were looking into his eyes when something cold met the warmth of your skin. 

It’s a necklace. 

“A promise of my return,” he says and fold your palms, your turn to hold it in a fist. “I know a lifebuoy doesn’t symbolize that, but you get my point.”

His wit relaxes the tensed atmosphere, making you giggle. “Thank you. I love it.”

Wonwoo regards you with a fond smile and slowly leans close to your face, the tip of his nose bumping against yours before finally pressing a tentative kiss on your lips. One peck, followed by a second and on the third he holds your jaw to continue. Your whole body grows hot as his kisses deepen and you kiss him back with the same fervor. It didn’t take long for him to nip and swipe his tongue at your bottom lip, a plea to allow him to kiss you further. You yield and your heart has never beat so fast. 

You clutch the necklace he gave you against his chest while your other hand smooths against his neck. Every day that you’re with Wonwoo, you wish for it to never end. Whenever he holds your hand, keeps you close by an arm around your waist and breathlessly kisses you; you want them always. You want him. You lov---

You stop yourself right there because you’re not ready to take the fall. 

At the same time, Wonwoo hesitantly pulls away from your lips but his forehead remains against yours. “Wait for me?” he whispers, lips still grazing yours. 

You seal your yes with another kiss.

Jeongyeon holds her breath as she waits for your next question. You called her to your office to have an impromptu quiz game. This is not a traditional occurrence at your law firm but you figured that it wouldn’t be a waste of time to review your paralegal as the case is still on-going and the three day leave of your fiancé ends today.

“According to the Mining Act, foreigners are allowed to invest in mining activities of the kingdom. True or false?”

“I know this!” Jeongyeon shouts and raises her hand, asking for a moment. “False?”

You grin and give her a thumbs up. “Correct!”

“Yes!” She jumps and punches her fist up in the air. 

So far, she hasn’t given a single wrong answer and that makes you proud. You watch her dance excitedly around your office when your phone suddenly vibrates inside your pocket. Letting go of your questionnaire, you take it out and the message on the screen brings a smile on your face. 

j.ww: will be back tonight. dinner?

: can’t say no to that.

Wonwoo never failed to send you text messages or give you calls the past three days he was gone. They were always brief, but enough to assure you that you’re always on his mind. It’s a little corny for your age, but you can’t deny it gave you a sense of peace and security. It made your heart flutter as well but you’ll never say it out loud. 

Finally, he’ll be back tonight. You missed him so much and him not coming back didn’t fail to cross your mind each day. You’re hoping whatever he may have discussed with his parents concluded on a positive note. 

“Your Highness?” 

When you look up, you didn’t expect a tall man, wearing an all black suit, with sunglasses covering his eyes to greet you. You stand properly and put your phone back inside your coat pocket. 

“He didn’t have an appointment,” Jeongyeon sheepishly says. “But he insisted.”

The stranger removes his shades and gives you a smile. “Good day, Your Highness. My name is Kim Mingyu and I wish to seek your legal advice.”

“So Mr. Kim, you want to start a business in our kingdom?”

Kim Mingyu is from the neighboring kingdom who’s apparently rich enough to venture to different kingdoms to expand his business and well, make himself richer. Foreigners are welcomed and allowed to establish their business here so long as they abide by the laws of the land. You have had foreign clients of that kind before, asking how to navigate around without facing legal disputes.

Some are nice and genuine, some are the opposite.

Kim Mingyu seems to be the latter.

Mingyu shakes his head as he sips at the iced water he requested. You can hear the ice cubes crushing as he chews on them and you’re regretting not declining his request for a consultation. This man exudes nothing but conceit and you honestly don’t have the time to stroke his ego. He chugs the whole glass before leaning his arms on the table. Meanwhile, you stayed composed with your back straight even though you’re starting to grow irritated at his actions. 

“No, Your Highness,” he answers. “I already have a business here.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Then, what do you require my services for?”

He leans back on the chair again and crosses his arms. “I just want to improve it, but in a legal kind of way.”

“Okay,” you say under your breath, unsure if he’s bluffing you or not. “May I ask what’s your business, Mr. Kim?”

“Mining.”

A stunned silence befalls between the two of you. Is he serious?

“Mr. Kim, you have a mining business in this kingdom?” You try to clarify because maybe you heard him wrong. 

He gives you a high and mighty nod, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. 

“Foreigners are not allowed to engage in mining activities in this kingdom, Mr. Kim,” you remind him, your tone cold.

He shrugs his shoulders and gives you a sinister smirk. “It’s not that hard when you have someone powerful allowing it.”

You are numb and in denial. 

Kim Mingyu is messing with your head, you try to make excuses to keep yourself sane as you run to the car and tell the driver to head straight to the Royal Residences. You don’t even know who that guy is. You don’t have any confirmation of his identity at all. He’s just stirring you up to get a reaction from you. You can’t be vulnerable and you’ll never be. The only way to do that is to stay rational and ask the people he mentioned yourself. 

Your phone is attached to your ear as you wait for Seungkwan to answer. He’s taking rather a while to answer than he used to but it’s okay. You just need to tell him your so-called visitor’s name earlier and maybe he can tell you something, anything, that can ease the growing fear inside your system.

“Your Highness,” he finally answers, just in time when the driver stops at the entryway of the house. You can hear someone shouting from the other line, but you ignore it.

“Seungkwan, do you perhaps know a guy named Kim MIngyu?” You ask and walk your way through the opened and unguarded doors. Odd, you thought, but you ignored it again and continued sprinting to the receiving area. “He was at my office earlier saying some crap about illegal mining, can you loo---”

Handcuffs.

And dozens of men in uniform surrounding your father, The King, made you stop on your tracks. 

“Y/N, I need you to listen to me.” 

But you can’t because this one man with a piece of paper held by one of his hands is talking to your father.

“His Majesty, King XXX, you are under arrest for aiding and allowing the presence and access of foreign nationals and businesses to the mineral resources of this Kingdom, a violation of the Mining Act of 19xx. You have the right to an attorney and in the event that you don’t, the Kingdom will provide you one. You have the right to remain silent and if you waive your right, anything you say can be used for or against you in court.”

 “Y/N?”

You heard what the Royal Police said, loud and clear. You also saw how your father stood up and comply, surrendering his hands to the man holding the handcuffs. When he finally raises his head and meets your eyes, your arm weakens making you drop your phone. Your father shows you a tight smile and quick nod, a false promise that everything will be okay.

You watch, frozen, as they take your father away and all you can hear is the sobs of your mother who couldn’t do anything to save her husband.

The very moment the press took hold of your father’s quiet arrest, it became a mess outside of the residences. News reporters from various broadcasting stations have positioned themselves in front of the camera, making use of your home as their background as they tell the whole nation about the downfall of The King. 

Seungkwan’s words were frantic but painfully true. He has informed you that the prime suspects have dropped the names of every public figure involved in their crime and yes, that includes your father. They were able to present strong evidence in a short period of time, turning the tables and causing chaos at the prosecution. 

Seungkwan told you to stay put and let the Prime Minister do his job. But he wasn’t able to tell you that everything is under control and that your father may just be falsely accused. 

Because he’s not. 

You can see from the window that civilians have joined the crowd and they are livid. You haven’t said a word, you haven’t sat down, you haven’t done anything since you arrived. Your mother is inconsolable and all of the crying has exhausted her, making her faint. If it’s a mess outside what more inside this house with nothing but an eerie silence that’s crumbling you down. 

Eventually, your family will have to face the people you swore to serve with nothing but honesty. When that time comes, will you even have a face to show? Will you have the strength to see their disappointment and distrust? 

What about Wonwoo? What would he think of your father whom he respected? What about his parents who regarded your family with high praises? You tightly gripped on the necklace Wonwoo gave you as you imagined the endless scenarios that could likely end everything. You tightly gripped onto the lifebuoy pendant, holding onto what is left if there’s still at all.

“Your Highness, Prince Wonwoo has arrived.”

Wonwoo looked like he was dragging his whole body from how tired he has been over the past three days. But his pace quickened when he finally saw you. He drops his bag and coat with a resounding thud on the floor and races to meet you halfway and take you in his arms.

His firm embrace swept you off your feet and the only thing that’s helping him to breathe your scent is your arms locked around his neck. 

“What did Seungkwan say? I only heard about it on my way here.” Wonwoo removed his arms from your waist and opted to rub your arms who grew limp by your sides. 

“He couldn’t disclose the full details,” you answer and your head hangs low in humiliation. “My father will be dethroned and worse, imprisoned.”

Wonwoo couldn’t say anything to comfort or correct you and it’s okay. He wants to but you tell him through your eyes that he doesn’t have to. You have thought about it already. You have accepted your father’s fate and most importantly, the fate of your marriage. Wonwoo and his family doesn’t deserve to be entangled with your family’s disgraceful incompetence and lies. 

Maybe you and Wonwoo were betrothed for all the wrong reasons.

So with hot tears streaming down your face and heartbreak tearing you apart, you ask him again. 

“Do you really want to marry me Wonwoo?”

[zintranslations]

Kaleidoscope of Death, Ch. 111

Kaleidoscope of Death by Xi Zixu Link to Chinese / Novel Updates

Chapter 111: Doll Mary

There wasn’t much in the backpack. Lin Qiushi forced his trembling hands to steady, and very quickly found what he was looking for—a pale silver gun. It looked no different from a normal gun, and there were three bullets in it.

This was an item that Lin Qiushi had gotten off someone else in the human oil lamp door. Though he had yet to use it, he and Ruan Nanzhu both guessed that this was a rare item of destruction allowed inside the doors, and was very valuable.

The Hako Onna's cry had came from the kitchen, meaning she was not on the second floor. The thing in the chest before them, therefore, was likely a Hakobito. And Hakobito could be killed.

Lin Qiushi could only take the gamble, but even if he lost this bet, he still had one last trick up his sleeve. At this point Liang Miye could no longer keep her hold on Ruan Nanzhu. She'd used up all her strength, managing to slow Ruan Nanzhu just a little, and could only turn to Lin Qiushi with anxious eyes.

Lin Qiushi took a deep breath, stood up, and turned toward the chest. He pulled the trigger in his hand.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Three loud gunshots were followed by a terrible cry. The bullets from Lin Qiushi's handgun pierced the wooden chest, blowing three holes, large and black, into the lid. The Hakobito hidden inside screamed, and red blood began seeping out through the holes, drizzling into a puddle on the ground.

Ruan Nanzhu's steps seemed to slightly stall on account on this commotion, but then he continued heading for the chest.

Lin Qiushi's stomach sank. Gritting his teeth, he dived forward.

Liang Miye saw what Lin Qiushi was doing and only blinked at first without comprehension. But as soon as she realized, she faltered in shock: "Linlin—You—"

Before she could even finish speaking, she saw Lin Qiushi take hold of the wooden lid. Before Ruan Nanzhu could get close, he'd opened the chest.

It had to be said—though he'd been mentally prepared, Lin Qiushi's heart still stopped the moment the lid came off. He saw what was inside…an utterly contorted human with all its limbs broken. It was stuffed in a strange position inside the cramped little box, and both its eyes had turned a terrifying grey, like they were just two black cavities, staring wide and unwilling to die…On its forehead, there was a large, bloody hole—evidently put there earlier by Lin Qiushi's gun.

Lin Qiushi stood frozen for a couple of seconds before realizing that he was okay. Then he exhaled long and deep, relaxing his tensed-up body. He turned around to look at Ruan Nanzhu, whose steps had also paused.

Ruan Nanzhu stayed standing where he was. A shift came upon his expression as he gradually pulled himself out of that irregular state of mind. Some moments later, his lips parted, and he spoke in a raspy voice:

"I…What did I do just now?"

When she heard his voice, Liang Miye knew the effect of the Hako Onna's power was over. Like Lin Qiushi she let out a long breath and also collapsed onto the ground.

"Zhu Meng, you were almost done for!"

A bit addled, Ruan Nanzhu fumbled, "I…"

Then, after another round of silence, he finally completely rid himself of the Hako Onna's influence.

"She got me?!"

"Yes." Lin Qiushi looked up at him. "Good thing I brought the prop in…"

He'd never concretely realized before the importance of props, and knew well now these things really could save lives. Had it not been for the gun, then either he or Ruan Nanzhu would have croaked.

Reaching up, Ruan Nanzhu pinched the bridge of his nose. He stared at the chest that Lin Qiushi had opened and seemed to grind his teeth a bit.

"Even if she had me, you can't just open the chest like this—"

What if using the gun on the chest hadn't worked? Then wouldn't Lin Qiushi have been screwed?!

Lin Qiushi put on an irreproachable expression, saying, "but I was sure the Hakobito was dead. Why couldn't I open it?"

"Don't think you can treat me like Cheng Qianli."

Ruan Nanzhu was no idiot, and wasn't so easily fooled. How could he not know what Lin Qiushi had done?

Lin Qiushi also couldn't be sure of the prop gun's efficacy, so he'd made a bet with his own life. If it hadn't worked, he'd have traded his own life for Ruan Nanzhu's.

"If you insult Cheng Qianli, I'm telling his brother on you." Lin Qiushi got up off the ground and glanced at the chest behind him. "Can we clean this mess up or something? We can't just leave it in our room, right?"

"If this door is like before, then after we leave for a while this thing will be gone." Liang Miye had plenty of experience there.

"Great, then let's discuss things somewhere else."

Lin Qiushi got up.

Ruan Nanzhu still wasn't looking too happy, so Lin Qiushi rushed over with hugs and kisses, saying he really was so terrified just now, and had it not been for the gun then things would've been really, really bad.

But Ruan Nanzhu's expression stayed dark, and he wasn't speaking. No matter how Lin Qiushi coaxed him, he kept silent, evidently displeased with how Lin Qiushi opened the chest without consulting him just now.

There was nothing Lin Qiushi could do in the end. He could only hope that Ruan Nanzhu would stop being angry after a bit of time.

They moved into another room and began discussing this matter.

"Do you two still remember the rules for Hako Onna?" Ruan Nanzhu said, brows furrowed. "The one about sharing information?"

"I do," Liang Miye said. "You mean to say…"

Ruan Nanzhu, "I suspect the rule inside now are not so different from the one back then."

"How so?" Liang Miye asked.

When playing the tabletop, everybody sat at the same table. This made it so that when one player picked a card from the box, they could choose whether or not to share the information. There was a major advantage to sharing information—all players knew the situation of the items. However, when information was shared, the person playing Hako Onna also gained the same information, and knew which items the players had.

"So you mean the Hako Onna also knows everything we've disclosed?" Liang Miye's eyes went wide. "That's right, every time we've shared information it’s been in the dining room. The kitchen's right next door!"

"She must know, or she wouldn't have picked me," Ruan Nanzhu said. "At least for now, I'm the only one who's been acting like I know all the rules in detail."

If she could successfully get rid of Ruan Nanzhu, then all of the Hako Onna's next moves would come much easier, because nobody among the players would know what the powers written on the cards even meant.

"But isn't that too much like cheating?" Lin Qiushi's brows were furrowed. The doors would never deliberately set up a dead end, and didn't not knowing the rules to a tabletop basically mean there was no solution?

"Yes, that's why I think we're missing a key piece of information," Ruan Nanzhu said. "Even if I'm not here, there must be another way of knowing the rules to the game. But we haven't been able to find the rulebook yet, or perhaps…"

"Or perhaps it's already been found, but the person who's found it hasn't announced it!" Liang Miye exclaimed. "Could that be the case?"

Ruan Nanzhu nodded.

"But why would that person hide the rules?" Lin Qiushi asked. "Or rather, how could they be certain that they'd make it out this door…"

"That's purely a question of probability," Ruan Nanzhu said. "That person doesn't have to guarantee they'll make it out, they just have to make sure they're the last to die."

Once only a single person was left inside a door, then the door's rule would kick in. That person could open any chest they wanted at that point because they'd have entered a state of invincibility.

After listening to Ruan Nanzhu's analysis, neither Lin Qiushi nor Liang Miye spoke.

"Of course, this is all just my guess." Ruan Nanzhu flipped his palms up. "Maybe we're all wrong, and the door's difficulty level's just greatly increased."

"Damn," Liang Miye sighed. "I'm too scared to even imagine what it would be like going into the tenth door without the hint…"

Much less the eleventh.

As the three were speaking, there came a call from the hallway. Somebody was calling for Zhu Meng and Yu Linlin and asking if they were alright; it seemed that someone from downstairs had come at the sound of gunshots.

"I'll go take a look," Liang Miye said, standing up.

"Go ahead, tell them we're fine," Ruan Nanzhu said. "I want to talk to him alone."

He pointed at Lin Qiushi.

Liang Miye could sense something off in the atmosphere between the two, and knew Ruan Nanzhu must still be angry at Lin Qiushi for risking his own safety earlier. Smiling, she said, "alright, but don't talk for too long."

She got up, left the room, and even closed the door for them behind her.

Lin Qiushi didn't know what Ruan Nanzhu was about to say, so before Ruan Nanzhu could speak, he quickly made a pause gesture with his hands.

"Nanzhu, before you say anything, let me ask you one question."

Ruan Nanzhu, "hm?"

Lin Qiushi, "if the same thing happened to me, would you open the chest for me before I get to it?"

Ruan Nanzhu sank into silence. They were both quite clear on the answer to this question.

If there was only one piece of chocolate, he'd break off half for Lin Qiushi and hide the other half. Tomorrow, he'd still give that other half to Lin Qiushi.

"So don't be angry," Lin Qiushi said, soothing Ruan Nanzhu's emotions. "We both know exactly what the other would do. Alright, Nanzhu?"

"I just want you to live," Ruan Nanzhu said. "At least, don't die because of me."

Watching Ruan Nanzhu's eyes, Lin Qiushi spoke quietly: "Something like that's happened before?"

Ruan Nanzhu's lips pressed together. Just when Lin Qiushi thought he wouldn't respond, he nodded.

"Yes."

Lin Qiushi didn't know what to say. Could only reach out and pull him into a hug.

"He had a three year old daughter," Ruan Nanzhu said. "I was still weak back then."

Lin Qiushi had never heard Ruan Nanzhu mention these things, and knew they must have been buried inside Ruan Nanzhu's heart for a very long time.

Words were flimsy in moments like this. Lin Qiushi didn't speak, only held onto Ruan Nanzhu as tightly as he could, trying to give him strength.

Dong, dong, dong. From outside there came knocks at the door. Liang Miye called: "Are you guys done or what? Can I come in now?"

"It's only been three minutes, how can we be done?" Ruan Nanzhu returned. "Who do you think I am, your boss?"

Liang Miye, "…" Buddy, didn't you know a bit too much?

Though that was what they said, the two still opened the door. Liang Miye and Sun Yuanzhou were standing outside with peculiar expressions.

Sun Yuanzhou's in particular—he was scanning Ruan Nanzhu up and down, as if trying to spot some hint of queerness on Ruan Nanzhu's body.

Ruan Nanzhu completely ignored his gaze and toppled straight into Lin Qiushi's arms.

"Did you want something?"

"Someone's found another item," Sun Yuanzhou said. "We wanted to ask you how it's used."

Ruan Nanzhu asked, "what item?"

Sun Yuanzhou, "a fire extinguisher."

At those three words, Ruan Nanzhu, Lin Qiushi, and Liang Miye's eyes all lit up.

"What, it's a useful item?" Sun Yuanzhou too could tell the three were happy.

"Of course," Ruan Nanzhu explained. "That item can stop one of Hako Onna's actions."

"What do you mean?" Sun Yuanzhou asked. "Be more specific."

"I'll give you an example. I was hit by a power just now," Ruan Nanzhu said. "Hako Onna used 'Open This' on me."

Sun Yuanzhou's expression spasmed. "What did you just say?? How are you still here then—did you find another item??"

"No, we resolved it with an item we brought in ourselves," Ruan Nanzhu said. "You heard the gun just now, yes?"

"Mh." Sun Yuanzhou finally calmed down at this. "Continue."

"Once you've used the fire extinguisher, the Hako Onna's power will be interrupted," Ruan Nanzhu said. "Meaning that for one round, her power is rendered useless."

Sun Yuanzhou gave this some thought.

"Then how many times can the Hako Onna use her powers?"

"That we're not sure of," Ruan Nanzhu said. "In the game, she can only use each power once before she has to return it to the card pile. She has to pick it again to keep using it." His finger tapped at his chin. "But we don't know about inside the door."

"Oh," Sun Yuanzhou nodded.

"That's right," Ruan Nanzhu said. "My friend actually did open up a new item, but don't tell anybody else."

"What?" Sun Yuanzhou hadn't expected Ruan Nanzhu to say that.

"It's a little cloth toy called the Doll Mary," Ruan Nanzhu said. "It's an item to help Hako Onna pass on…But if Hako Onna finds out, it'll be more troublesome."

"Then why are you telling me?" Sun Yuanzhou looked around, brows furrowing. "You're not worried she's hiding in one of the chests in here?"

"She's in the kitchen," Ruan Nanzhu said. "If you find Hako Onna's bones, you have to tell me. Once I've helped her pass on, we can all go out."

"Okay," Sun Yuanzhou nodded.

The two traded a few more pieces of intel before parting ways.

After Sun Yuanzhou left, Lin Qiushi turned to Ruan Nanzhu in astonishment.

"When did you find the Doll Mary?"

The Doll Mary was Hako Onna's favorite stuffed doll, and was one of the most critical items in the game. With the Doll Mary, once Hako Onna's bones were found, they could help her pass on, unlock the mansion, and get out of here.

"I haven't found it," Ruan Nanzhu shrugged.

Lin Qiushi blinked, then understood Ruan Nanzhu's meaning.

"You're suspecting…"

"Sh." Ruan Nanzhu made a sign to keep quiet.

Lin Qiushi didn't say anything else.

Watching the two's interaction, Liang Miye was utterly confused. She too knew the use of the Doll Mary, but she couldn't figure out why Ruan Nanzhu wanted to lie to the others and say he'd already found it.

But it seemed like Ruan Nanzhu wasn't planning on explaining either, so Liang Miye didn't bother asking anymore. It wasn't like Ruan Nanzhu would intentionally sabotage the others.

The day passed just like that. Nobody opened any chests in the afternoon, so there were no other noteworthy incidents.

But by dinner time, Lin Qiushi could sense the atmosphere in the whole house was bad. Those who hadn't eaten for two days were practically green with envy as they stared at those eating at the table.

Xiao Ji had become a bit annoyed from all the staring, and spoke candidly: "What use is there if you just stare? Why don't you go open a chest of your own and come eat something?"

Two days were doable, but three days was a bit difficult. Honestly the door really was quite impressive, for being able to come up with such a method to force them into action.

Lin Qiushi guessed they could last at most one more day. By day four, people would definitely crumble under the pressure and open a chest.

"Wei Xiude, you goddamn bastard!" At the sight of Wei Xiude happily chowing down, the starved and panicking newbies were filled with resentment. "You're the one who brought us in here, and this is how you're going to treat us? Didn't you say you were experienced?!"

Against accusations like this, Wei Xiude was utterly unmoved. He only replied, perfectly collected, "murder is not allowed inside the doors. If you kill a teammate, then you'll definitely die once your teammate becomes a ghost."

This was clearly him telling these people that if they wanted to kill him, they'd better get a good gauge of their own abilities first.

The group looked like they wanted nothing more than to tear him to pieces, but could do nothing about it.

After dinner, everybody dispersed.

Lin Qiushi and Ruan Nanzhu too returned to their room, getting into bed to rest.

There were a total of twenty living people in the mansion right now, eleven of whom had opened chests. The remaining nine were still holding out. The three dead people had all become Hakobito, but during the day, Lin Qiushi had gotten rid of one, so there were two Hakobito left.

Of the people who'd opened the chests today, there were no losses, but Lin Qiushi had a feeling that something was bound to happen tomorrow. Starvation, after all, could drive people crazy. The Hako Onna surely wouldn't let this opportunity pass her by.

Currently, two of Hako Onna's powers had been released. There were also two items: one was the gasoline, and one was the fire extinguisher. Their bounty from the day was one digit for the strongbox passcode.

After compiling what they knew, Lin Qiushi planned to go to sleep. Ruan Nanzhu slipped into his bed again, arms wrapping around his waist and quietly playing the lech: "Linlin's waist is so thin."

Lin Qiushi said, "…"

Ruan Nanzhu, "it's very good to hold."

Lin Qiushi bent down and gave him a kiss.

"Go to sleep."

Ruan Nanzhu smiled, closed his eyes, and went to sleep.

They'd thought these people could hold out until the next day, at least, but when midnight came, a terrible scream sounded downstairs.

For a second after Lin Qiushi was woken by the cry, he was frozen. Only when Ruan Nanzhu woke too did he say, "they opened a chest?"

"Most likely." Ruan Nanzhu rubbed at his eyes. "And I thought they'd last 'til morning."

There was food in the kitchen refrigerator, but likewise, those who had not opened chests could not eat it. These people likely hadn't been able to last until the morning, and pressed forth by starvation, opened up a chest. It just seemed that they weren't so lucky.

The cries were coming from the kitchen. When Lin Qiushi got there, he saw a young woman weeping on top of a chest, calling: "Xiao Qian, Xiao Qian—"

Lin Qiushi recalled that she was one of the newbies that Wei Xiude brought in, along with another guy called Xiao Qian. They'd seemed close, and were most likely a couple on the outside.

"Xiao Qian, Xiao Qian!" The girl was banging on the wooden chest with all her strength, crying so hard her whole body seemed to be spasming. Next to her, there was a card and a half-eaten piece of bread.

Undoubtedly, it was as they'd predicted. The couple couldn't take the hunger anymore and came to the kitchen, selecting two chests to open. After opening them, one was dragged inside by either the Hako Onna or one of the Hakobito.

Ruan Nanzhu came to her side, bent down, and picked up the card. He saw what was written on it: My Doll Mary. Lin Qiushi saw the words on the card too, and sucked in a sharp breath.

"That's the power they opened up?"

"It was bound to happen."

Ruan Nanzhu seemed calm at least, putting the card away with a slip of his hand.

The girl was still crying, and soon enough, the kitchen was full of people. Sun Yuanzhou was there too, coming over to ask, "did he find the Hako Onna or one of the Hakobito?"

The girl wasn't answering, just kept banging on the chest.

Sun Yuanzhou yanked her to her feet.

"Can you wake the hell up? If you really want to join him, just go open up that chest!"

Numbly, the girl turned to look behind her. Her sobbing finally halted.

"Was it a Hakobito, or the Hako Onna inside?" Sun Yuanzhou continued to ask.

"I don't know," the girl answered.

"How can you not know?" Sun Yuanzhou frowned.

"I was eating," the girl said. "I looked away for one second, and he was dragged inside."

As soon as she finished speaking, the sound of her lover's scream came from inside the chest.

"Help me, it hurts! Xiao Mei, it hurts so bad, please help me—"

This was entirely a human's voice. The moment Xiao Mei heard it, her face went pale. She turned and lunged for the box, but Sun Yuanzhou caught her in a tight grip.

"Wei Xiude, you're the one who brought her in. Are you not gonna fucking do anything?" Sun Yuanzhou yelled.

But Wei Xiude just smiled.

"We're all adults here. Why do you always want to make someone responsible?"

Sun Yuanzhou, "you motherf—"

Rolling up his sleeve, he was all ready to fight. But someone next to him stopped him.

"Forget it, don't bother with an asshole like this," Sun Yuanzhou's friend said with a nasty look. "He'll get his sooner or later."

Sun Yuanzhou spat at Wei Xiude's feet.

That Xiao Mei just sat silently on the ground, woodenly staring at the chest before her. Ruan Nanzhu watched her for while, before slowly approaching and saying something into her ear.

It was only then that Xiao Mei's numb expression was gradually siphoned away. Grief morphed into fury, and she turned a dark, spine-chilling look on the departing Wei Xiude.

"What did you say to her?" Lin Qiushi asked.

"Nothing much," Ruan Nanzhu said. "People need some kind of purpose to live, whether it's happiness or anger."

Lin Qiushi sank into silence. For a moment, he didn't know what to say at all.

Author's Note:

I wonder if any veterans here can guess what Ruan Nanzhu's planning to do _(:3∠)_ Heheheh

Translator’s Note:

The title of this chapter actually translates as “Miss Mary,” and they call the item “Miss Mary” throughout the chapter. In the Hako Onna tabletop rulebook though, the card is called Doll Mary, so I went with that instead. Also, I haven’t been able to find the particular power card that Xiao Mei opened up, so “My Doll Mary” is a translation (”我的瑪麗小姐” / “My Miss Mary” or “Miss Mary is Mine”), and might not be the official name.

Names in this chapter:

Xiǎo Qiān / Xiao(3) Qian(1) / 小謙

Xiǎo Méi / Xiao(3) Mei(2) / 小玫

her name also means Rose (玫瑰)

[Ch. 110] | [Ch. 112]