#yes it is a pen/pencil holder.

[copper-dragon-in-disguise]

I made him a party hat

[highlynerdy]

"Aithusa has seen her father's mate in his memories and smelled him on her father's skin when he comes to visit, but this is the first time she gets to meet him for herself."

Nepenthe and Lavender by @0hheytherebigbadwolf

My latest fanARTifact is an entirely handlettered, handbound, and illustrated book of this beautifully fluffy fic (and it has actually been in various states of progress since March 1, 2021.) More below the cut!

So as I said above, I actually started planning this fic over two years ago. Which, yeah, I don't really want to talk about because adhd is a hell of a thing. I love love love this fic (and this entire series) and I was inspired by The Black Hours and other gorgeous manuscripts with metallic on black paper.

I ordered some black paper from Canson for the text block, used Arabic gold finetec paint mixed with water and gum arabic as my ink (I used three pans of the gold paint...), and a Nikko G nib with a straight pen holder for the calligraphy. I really wanted to use one of my broad tip nibs, but I just couldn't my Uncial letters small enough with it. I used Uncial since that was technically the alphabet/font they used in the Arthurian time period.

The paper was cut down and folded into signatures of three and then I drew out light pencil lines for the text and for the margins. Every single letter was done sooooo slooowwllly because if I messed up on one page there was no way to erase it, which meant I would have to do basically four pages worth of lettering again since they were all connected.

And I did mess up.

More than once.

I think the most heartbreaking mistake was at the very end when I was trying to erase my pencil lines and I just ripped a page completely in half. The tears were real, folks.

Once I finished lettering - which took hours and hours and hours over many weeks - it was time to assemble the text block and sew it. I used gold silk thread I had leftover from Arthur's scarf (which is also used as the backdrop for the photo shoot) to sew the block together and I love how it gives just another little peek of gold to the book.

I painted the end papers in a vaguely floral pattern with the same gold and also some silver finetec paint, glued them all together and put them in my book press and then promptly didn't work on it again from October 2022 to July 2023. Sigh.

But once I committed to getting it done, I asked @swanfloatieknight to help be my accountabilibuddy and make sure I finished it this week. I tested out so many different cover designs, from fabric and thread, to paper, to finally settling on this all over design done by my cricut. Historically accurate?? Nah. I'm about as historically accurate as BBC Merlin.

I tried my hand at gold foiling and that was a disaster so I just used a gold silk ribbon to give the color a little bit more color. Once it was bound, I painted in a triskelion and Aithusa on a double page spread I left intentionally blank.

And it was finally done!

All in all, I'm pleased with how it turned out. Was it an exercise in patience? Yes. Did I learn a lot? Also yes. Mostly that handlettering an entire fic is madness and also this is far too small to case bind, but I'm a stubborn ass and it was happening regardless.

All total, I probably worked on this for about 50+ hours. It was most definitely a labor of love and I'm so happy that it's finally done.

Thank you for inspiring me to take on such a project by writing such wonderful fics, @0hheytherebigbadwolf! And thank you for everyone who reads these long fanARTifact posts. 💛

[rae-pottah]

His Weakness

Fandom: The Rookie

Pairing: Tim Bradford x Reader

Y/n= Your name

L/n= Last Name

N/n= Nickname

S/n= Special Nickname

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns, Little spaced!reader, kissing, shitty writing?, it's a BBF so Y/n's brother's name will be Ryan, people know Ryan and Tim are good friends but don't know you and Tim get along this well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If before today someone had told anyone who hadn't witnessed the two of you interact that Timothy Bradford had never been rude to you, they wouldn't have believed them.

*Y/n's POV*

As I walked into the precinct with two lunches in my right hand and a container of cookies in the left I made my way over to the front desk.

"Hello, how can- Y/N! Pleasure as always! You here to see Ryan?" Kai, Ryan's Boyfriend asked with a bright smile

"And his side piece!" I feigned offence as I held up the lunches

"Awe, Tim isn't in at the moment but you can go see Ryan and then draw at Tim's desk till he gets back!"

"Works for me!" I smile and make my way over to my brother. As I walk by people they smile and wave, knowing me from Ryan of course, Angela and Jackson stopped to actually say hello.

*Angela's POV*

After a few minutes of talking with Y/n, we heard her brother call

"N/n!" I had just put my bottle of water up to my lips when I heard the most beautiful word.

"Hey Ryan, I made you and Timmy-" I didn't hear the rest because I had spit near all of the water in my mouth on West and doubled over in laughter

"Are you okay?" Y/n ran the 20 feet back over to me worried

"I'm great!" I eased her mind, and she reluctantly left me and went to Tim's desk with Ryan, he ate while she quietly drew with the blue, red, and black pens Tim had in his pencil holder.

*Tim's POV*

I walked into the precinct after telling Chen to book the douchebag we got

"Tim, she's at your desk!" Kai called I didn't notice the huge smile on my face until-

"Aww, Timmy's smiling!" Angela called out

"You ever call me that again and you're dead" I snapped

"She calls you that." she pointed out with a smile on her face

"Yes, and she is the only one that calls me that."

"Alright, I'm sorry Tim." as I walked to my desk I heard the faintest "me" and laughing right after, it didn't bug me as much because I finally got to my desk

*Ryan's POV*

Y/n didn't notice Tim when he walked in, she always gets so locked into her doodling. He crouched down next to the chair and she gasped

"Timmy!"

"Hey S/n, what you doing?" he asked with his best smile

"Just coloring and waiting for you. I made you and Ryan lunches and cookies!" she said happily as she handed him his lunch and showed him the container of cookies

"Thank you so much, S/n!" giving her a kiss on the nose, now I knew he had a crush on my sister, which I most definitely gave him a huge talk about if he hurts her I'll crush his skull in, but the way he said thank you... had everyone around stopping. Anglea and Lucy were Awwing, and Grey, and Nolan were probably having heart attacks, while West just pursed his lips trying not to smile. I just gave him a warning look as he pulled another chair over and sat in that one

*Tim's POV*

While I was eating some people still looked on and off, not used to the domesticated me, but they weren't ready for what was about to happen, and to tell you the truth neither was I.

"Um- so I was thinking, you wanna go to dinner with me?" I asked slowly not ready for the answer. Everyone was shocked, except the girls... I think they might have been more nervous for her answer than I was

"L-Li-Like a date?" she asked, her entire face turning red looking down to hide her blush. I put my finger under her chin and began lifting her head up

"If that's okay" Somehow I think my face was redder than hers

"That'd be awesome" she said in a small voice

"Yeah?" I had to double check

"Yeah!" she nodded quickly

"Cool" I nervously laughed out

"Cool" she laughed out nearly the same

"DAMNIT" We turned to Kai standing next to Ryan getting his wallet out and handing him a twenty

"W-what?" Y/n asked confused

"I knew he would break first, he thought you would just kiss him one day" Ryan explained

"Well, I've waited this long" She shrugged and turned to me next thing I know her lips are on mine and I never want to let them go

I moaned into the kiss luckily as cheering erupted in the precinct.

Thanks lol

[rottenpumpkin13]

I just had the thought that Sephiroth likes to bite and gnaw on things like pens, pencils, and markers when he is bored or doing paperwork.

This leads to everyone hiding pens, pencils, and markers where Sephiroth can't find them, such as in the vents or other, similar odd places.

In Turn, Sephiroth seeks out and finds the writing utensils.

And round and round the cycle goes, like a never ending game of treasure hunt.

Fluff be upon ye .・゜-: ✧ :-

• Not even Sephiroth knows why he does it⏤he's oblivious to the possibility that it could be an anxiety response, or an involuntary, self-soothing gesture. All he knows is that every pen he owns is indented with teeth marks, and each pencil in his desk is chewed beyond saving, and even other supplies like rulers and highlighters are spoiled by tiny teeth marks.

• It's an inconvenient habit, especially when someone asks to borrow a pen, but Sephiroth doesn't concern himself over it much. So what if Genesis complains that the nice fountain pen he lent Sephiroth now has a dent the size of a canine tooth near the top? Sephiroth can simply buy him a new one. So what if Angeal scolds him for biting the eraser top off the pencil he gave him? It still writes, it's perfectly usable.

• Genesis and Angeal, in turn, have learned that there is no place for them to hide their office supplies where Sephiroth won't find them. Angeal can't stand lying to him whenever he asks to borrow a pen, and Genesis knows that Sephiroth will go out and besmirch someone else's good pens anyway, so what's the point?

• They decide its time to do something the day Sephiroth's naked hands reveal that he's been using his fingers as substitute whenever writing utensils aren't available. The sight of faint bite marks, purple splotches and red knuckles break their heart.

• Angeal thinks it's covert anxiety, Genesis is sure that he's trying to soothe himself when his mind wanders, either men know that Sephiroth needs something to distract his mouth while he's working. Angeal reprimand's Genesis's suggestion to gift Sephiroth teething toys, but he's sold on the idea of candy.

• They look duly out-of-place buying out the local convenience store's entire stock of chewing gum, taffy and hard candy. They look even more odd fussing and arguing over which flavors Sephiroth will like best.

• They stock up Sephiroth's office when he's away on an assignment, filling his drawer with a neat row of gum packs, placing lollipops in his pen-holder, and littering any open space with hard candy. They make sure to make it look as if Sephiroth himself had bought the sweets, haphazardly thrown them wherever, and forgotten about it.

• The end result is positive. They're pleased to see Sephiroth with a lollipop in his mouth whenever they swing by his office, or chewing gum as he furiously as he writes things down. It's a win-win situation⏤all of their pens are spared, Sephiroth's biting habits have ceased, and if he has more sweets in his diet now, so what? He deserves to indulge.

• Genesis and Angeal make sure to keep his drawers stocked, going down to the convenience store once a week and picking out all of Sephiroth's favorite candy. They think he doesn't know where it's all coming from, that he's blissfully unaware of how much they care for him and can't stand to see him taking out his anxiety on his poor fingers.

• Sephiroth, in turn, finds it hilarious that Genesis doesn't know where that expensive red quill pen came from, or when he marvels at how his favorite gel pens seem to never run out. He thinks it's sweet how excited Angeal is when he finds a pack of brand new pencils in his desk drawer, and tries his hardest to remember when he bought himself an electric pencil sharpener shaped like a plant.

• They will never find out it's him, and Sephiroth will forever be grateful for their caring gesture.

[frankiebirds]

GARCIA: Come on, come on, Quick. Quick. I know you're in here. JJ: [slumped in her chair] What are you doing? GARCIA: I'm looking for Prince William's phone number. The CIA is bound to have it JJ: [laughing] Oh, Garcia, come on. [Prince William's phone number starts loading onto the screen] GARCIA: Yup, here it is. JJ: [sitting up straight] No way. GARCIA: Yes, way. Get me a pen. I need a pen. Give me a pen. JJ: What? No. Garcia, no. GARCIA: [overlapping] JJ, I need this pen. I need a pen! JJ: Penelope! GARCIA: Ugh! It doesn't work. I need. JJ: Garcia... [Garcia rolls her chair over to a pencil cup holder at the opposite end of her desk...and knocks it over] Garcia: [gasping] Okay. [The screens turn back to the FBI database] JJ: Oh, that's too bad. GARCIA: [spinning around in her chair and holding her hand out to the screen] Sleep well, sweet prince. JJ: [standing up and taking Garcia's hand] Good night, crazy person. [patting her arm] Good night.

bonus: Garcia's expression when JJ is holding her hand/patting her arm:

[blackoutspoetry]

"He's already five, he can take care of himself" – baby Soap full scene

From this:

First few chapters on ao3 here:

July 18, 1999

“Mrs. MacTavish, thank you so much for taking the time out of your day to be here with us,” the man behind the desk began, adjusting the pen holder to his left ever so slightly in a futile attempt to alleviate the tense atmosphere as he made earnest eye contact with the woman opposite him, ignoring the child in the chair next to her as best possible.

“Any time. The woman on the phone told me it was urgent. Did something happen, is John okay?” 

“Your son is fine, ma’am, but we have some concerns about his recent behaviour,” the principal continues and Mrs. MacTavish can almost immediately sense the unease in her son next to her. 

“His behaviour?” she asks with a frown. “Has he fallen behind in his classes?” 

She glances sideways at him, but the child refuses to meet her eyes, just keeps swinging his feet slightly under the plastic chair. 

“No, really. His grades are good. It's just– we’re concerned about his mental health.” 

“His mental health…” the woman repeats slowly. 

“Yes. is everything alright at home? I know it’s common for students to act out when their parents are having marital issues–” 

“My marriage is just fine, thank you, and we don’t have any other issues at home. So if you don’t mind me asking, what is it that I’m actually here for?” she asks impatiently and the principal gives her a slightly uncomfortable look. 

“John, do you want to tell your mother what happened?” 

Just a slight, sheepish shake of the head. 

“Tell me what?”

The man sighs. “Your son has gotten into a physical altercation with an older student. He broke the kid’s nose.” 

“John!” she shrieks in alarm. “Is this true?” 

He didn’t raise his head to face her. “He hit me first.” 

“So you hit him harder?” she asks incredulously before she turns back to the man on the opposite side of the desk, now sitting with his hands firmly clasped together in front of him. 

“Are you going to suspend him?”

“We’re not sure yet. The other boy has a history of bullying and getting violent, so it's difficult to distinguish between right and wrong here, but it isn’t the only thing we’re concerned about. Several teachers have come forward with some disturbing drawings he’s done in the margins of his books.” 

“I had to leave work early because he’s been drawing in his books?” 

“We’re more concerned about what he’s been drawing, Mrs. MacTavish,” he explains in uncomfortable tone before he reaches into his desk drawer and pulls out a crumpled piece of scrap paper meant for maths working, but half of it was taken up by a crude stickman drawing done in blunt pencil and coloured in with uneven streaks of red whiteboard marker. 

The wobbly picture depicted a man lying on the ground, surrounded in a scribble of red and another stick figure standing over it with what appeared to be the child’s best impression of a gun. The man on the ground was captioned in sloppy, childlike handwriting “RUSHIИ SOLJER”. 

The principal produced another picture depicting what looked to be a burning house and a man on fire. 

“How limited is his exposure to the situation in Urzikstan right now?” 

“Not very limited. My husband’s been following the situation since it began last month. It’s all he can talk about right now.” 

“Well, you may want to consider talking to your husband about limiting John’s exposure to the news. We’ll be in further contact with you if we do decide to take action, but for now, that’s all we really have an issue with.” 

Wrapping up with the general formalities, John sat in silence until his mother and the principal had finished discussing his school matters and prodded him into giving a begrudging apology for his behaviour. They sent him on his way with half his things out of his school bag in his hands and he refused to make eye contact with his mother as she opened the door for him and he shuffled in after his school things. 

The drive was a stale silence for a few minutes but she kept trying to make eye contact with him in the rear view mirror, despite his unwillingness. He gave her a glance a couple of minutes in and she took that as an opportunity to force him to speak. 

“Does that stuff on the news really bother you that much? I’ll tell your father not to watch it with you in the house, if that’s going to help you?” 

No response and she sighs. “Listen, I understand these things can make you upset. Other people, especially children your age, they can be mean. They just haven’t learned yet, but you can’t just hit them. You know, if an adult hits another adult, they can go to jail for that.”

Her eyes found him in the mirror, picking irritably at a hangnail with his teeth. 

“Johnny, will you talk to me?” 

“I’m not a little baby anymore, I don’t like it when you call me that.”

“Alright, I won’t. But will you talk to me?” 

“Da says its good for me to know what’s going on in the world. He says age restriction is a load of shite,” he grumbles, crossing his arms and sinking further into his seat.  

“John!” she yelled. “You are not allowed to say that word. And I’m going to have a good talk with your father, he should know better than to let you watch that stuff.” 

“Whatever.” 

“What was that?” 

“...nothing.” 

By the time they reached home, John was eagerly shoveling overdue homework assignments back into his school bag and running up the driveway before his mother could corner him again. The door was half ajar, propped open with a doorstop for the dog to come in and out, and he could already here the TV from the front door before he emerged into the dining room right behind the couch. 

“Reports from earlier this morning confirm that a fresh wave of Russian forces have come in across the border. Following their attack on Riyzabbi last month, several of the civilian casualties are still in dire need of medical care and most are being treated in field hospitals with limited access to medicine and potable water. Efforts have been made to move those in critical condition to hospitals for urgent treatment, but as of this morning, with heightened Russian presence patrolling the roads, it has become nearly impossible to move patients out of the area.” 

John discarded his school bag by the foot of the table and glanced over at the TV, only slightly blocked out by his father’s head in the way as his eyes were still glued to the screen in grim fascination. His father clicks the sound button a couple of times as he hears his mother coming in at the door, turning to face her with a grim look on his face. 

“Did you see? They’ve got about the entire Russian army into Urzikstan overnight. They’ve now started putting young kids into labour camps–” 

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t watch that stuff with the children around.”

John watches tight lipped as his mother walks irritably towards the TV and shuts it off. 

“I was watching that!” 

“The school called me in today. Say’s John’s been drawing all kinds of horrors from the TV in his books and he’s starting to pick fights with other boys.” 

“It’s not because of the TV.” 

“He broke a boy’s nose.” 

His father shoots him a look. “Is this true?” 

Before John can respond, his mother cuts in.  “It is. And now that we’re on that topic, you can go to your room and get started on all those overdue English assignments I heard about today and I don’t want to see you out that door until your sisters are home for dinner.” 

He clenches his jaw and opens his mouth to say something, but the warning look he receives from his mother makes him decide against it. Instead, he grabs his school bag and slinks off to his room, shutting the door behind him. 

Its a right mess in there. There’s little toy soldiers scattered across the carpet from the weekend, multicoloured lego walls he’d built and piles of loose bricks he’d artfully arranged to reenact the attack they’d showed on the news weeks before. 

On his desk under the window was a handful of plastic toy soldiers he’d singled out to impose himself and a few of his school friends onto. They’d rescue the injured, take care of the sick and kill the bad guys. He was just trying to do what’s right. 

Can’t his family see that? Can’t his teachers understand that he isn’t haunted by the images on the news and more so inspired to do good by it?

He frowns down at the scene on the carpet and dumps his school bag on his unmade bed. 

He’s only ever wanted to do what’s right. Nobody understands that. 

And so, he makes a decision for himself that will stick with him through his school years onwards. He’s going to be his own man. No one is ever going to tell him what he can and can’t be. 

He’s already five, he can take care of himself.  

[sokovianheadtilt]

A-List Bookworm

Steve Rogers x black!reader

Summary: You’re a famous actress, Steve is a bookstore owner. You’ve been together for 5 years but the public doesn’t know. 

A/N:  i got this idea and i had to let it out. If you have any requests let me know cuz writer’s block is realllllll. (also free Palestine 🇵🇸)

Warnings: pregnancy 

Word Count: 1.4k 

The day you met Steve was the best day of your life. You were in New York taking a break from filming your new hit TV show when you decided to visit a new bookstore that just opened in your area. You were a huge bookworm, something the public loves about you. So when ‘Steve’s Signatures’ opened a few blocks down the street, you couldn’t resist. 

You looked up at the sign outside the store, smiling to yourself a little before walking in. You looked around the store, noting how quaint it was and loving the little sitting area towards the back. You wandered through the aisles, stopping to check out a few books before going into a new aisle and seeing a tall, buff man with blonde hair putting some books on the shelves. You watched as he looked over towards you and smiled and said “Hi! I’m Steve, welcome to my store. Do you need any help?” Your eyes widened a bit as he didn’t seem like the type to own a bookstore. His vibe gives off male model more than it does bookstore owner but who were you to automatically assume? “Hi! Um, I’m just looking for a new romance book” After you said that, Steve went into a whole tangent about his favorite romance books and you couldn’t help but be fascinated with his every word. It led into a whole conversation about books and both of your personal favorites and hearing Steve talk about reading so passionately made your heart flutter. Once he had helped you find a few books to buy and was ringing you up he outright said “By the way, I love your show” You froze a bit before smiling and thanking him. You weren’t surprised that he knew who you were, but the fact that it didn’t seem to dissuade him from striking a conversation with you anyway made you feel a certain way. So, when he gave you your receipt, you reached over to grab one of the pens that sat in a pencil holder on top of the counter and wrote your number on it, giving the receipt back to him saying, “Text me if you have new book recommendations”  You smiled at him before grabbing your bag and leaving, knowing that you found a comfort spot at Steve’s store. 

After that interaction, Steve took your advice and started sharing the new books he would start and telling you what he loved or hated about each one, loving how in-depth he got into his reasonings for how he felt. Over time, you started opening up to each other whenever you would see him at the store or talking over text which led to your feelings for him growing stronger every day. Your day wasn’t complete until you heard from Steve. He was the best part of your days, he was the nicest and most sympathetic man you’ve ever met, and you wanted him. You took the risk and asked him out on a date and he said yes, much to your surprise. You did your best to pick a spot where you wouldn’t be hounded by the press leading to having your date in a little restaurant, sitting in a secluded spot so you can both enjoy yourselves. It was one the best date you’ve ever been on and you knew Steve had to be yours. The day he asked you to be his girlfriend, while you wanted to say yes immediately, you felt the need to remind him of the life you live and how you get little to no privacy and so do the people around you. You didn’t want him to be oblivious to how you live your life, but his response was simply “I know what I’m getting myself into and I’m gonna stick beside you anyways” From that moment on, your relationship was something special you held to close to your heart, so you decided to keep it a secret for the time being. 

You and Steve dated for 3 years before getting married in secret as well. It was a super small ceremony, with your close friends and family being the only ones in attendance. Your life with Steve was the calm and quiet you needed away from Hollywood life. When you had to go to a new city to film a movie or show, you missed him like crazy. You did your best to fly him out in secret whenever you wanted to see him, but those moments would be few and far between due to how busy your schedule can get. He was supportive through it all. He knew marrying a high-profile celebrity meant you would have to be away a lot, but the both of you made it work. 

While filming for your new movie, you found out that you were pregnant. Thankfully production was ending soon so it wouldn’t be a huge issue but it saddened you that Steve couldn’t be there for you to tell him in person. So, you came up with a plan, and this plan involved going public with your marriage. When filming was over, and you could finally go back home, you surprised Steve with the news of your pregnancy. “God I missed you so much never leave me again” he said once you walked through the door of your house, hugging you tightly and kissing your cheek repeatedly. The action made you giggle and you ran a hand through his blonde locks. “Well, considering there’s a baby growing inside me, you can have me all to yourself for a little while” You felt him freeze under you and pull back to look you in the eyes “Wha…a baby? Are you pregnant?” he said in disbelief as you nodded “Yeah, just hit 13 weeks” you felt tears well up in your eyes and saw Steve about to cry as well as he hugged you again “Oh my god we’re having a baby” 

As your pregnancy progressed, you brought up the idea of going public to Steve to which he said “Whatever you want to do I’ll be right there to support you” which of course he will because he’s the best man in the world. You started thinking of ways to announce it and because you haven’t been on social media or spotted in public recently, everyone came to the conclusion you were taking some time for yourself. You were invited to an awards show and decided that was the perfect opportunity to let everything out. You brought this up to Steve and he was super excited to see how awards shows operate and wanted to wear a fancy suit. The plan was simple, on the red carpet you will be debuting your 7-month-old pregnant belly as well as the man who helped create it. Your dress was your favorite shade of pink due to it being your favorite color and also because you found out you were having a girl so it felt fitting. 

When the day arrived, you and Steve spent hours achieving red-carpet-ready looks and before you knew it, you were pulling up to the red carpet. The moment you stepped foot onto the carpet holding Steve’s hand, the camera flashes started going crazy, and reporters were asking you questions at a mile a minute, you didn’t think this would cause such a huge reaction but it did. You kept looking at Steve to make sure he wasn’t getting overwhelmed but you noticed that he kept one of his hands on your back, using his fingers to rub small circles on the small of your back, one of the things he does to soothe you which made you realize, he’s making sure that YOU were okay. You looked up at him and placed a small kiss on his lips before bringing him down the carpet to let the next person get their picture taken and go to do some interviews. 

A reporter from People magazine came over and started asking you questions about what just occurred. “So Y/N, first off congratulations on the new baby this is quite a surprise! Who did you bring here with you tonight?” you let out a small giggle before answering “This is my husband Steve and he wanted to come and support me tonight so now we’re here” you said with a grin on your face. The rest of the night went by smoothly with many people congratulating you or telling you what a surprise this was. 

When you finally posted him on Instagram, you damn near broke the internet. It was your most-liked post ever, gaining more than 1 million likes and the support was overwhelming. Your worst fear was that this would have the complete opposite effect on your career, but instead, it only boosted it. Everything fell into place and once your daughter, Eliana Renee Rogers was born, everything was complete.

[lookedlikethebins]

holiday party (plus one)

surprise! have a (belated) holiday oneshot written on a whim because i was thinking about our producer george x TA matty this past break! just wanted to write something fun, something sweet, and see what came up! enjoy this little glimpse! [set ~4months since meeting each other] ~3k words xo

Technically, where Matty lived was considered student housing. He could have friends over for parties, could bring boyfriends back after dates—had brought quite a few boyfriends (and a few one-date-only boys) back—without issue. Matty just couldn’t bring George back after any of their dates. The new hire in the archeology department was more of a local celebrity—known for being the youngest professor on faculty, just a year older than Matty—and not the same as the international kind. Matty had assured George that it wasn’t particularly personal. Simply put (although few things Matty said were to George) if George wanted any bit of his private life to remain within his own control, be his story to tell, he couldn’t be seen wandering around campus, alone or with Matty.

With Matty’s flat off-limits, naturally, George never found it presumptuous when Matty would text George after his evening class to see if George would help grade papers that seemed to show a negative correlation between level of coherency and number of words. Actually, George sort of counted on it. He liked that Matty would invite himself over; never asking if it was okay if he spontaneously dropped by, instead wondering if George simply wanted to keep him company—to which the answer was always yes—then arriving an hour later and knocking on George's front door with said papers and a bottle of wine.

One night in mid-December, George was impatient waiting for Matty’s post-class text. He was nervous Matty would be too exhausted to come over and George would have to figure out another way, and fast, to ask Matty to join him his label event the following night. He didn't think he could face it alone—

But Matty texted, as he always did: last student just left. forgot something in my office but then i’ll be over? x

Matty arrived within the hour, standing outside his door with twice as many papers and wine bottles.

“Final essays.” Matty answered the question George hadn’t yet asked. He pecked George on the lips—George’s preferred form of hello, if he was being honest—and hurried inside from the cold.

Matty looked exhausted, as he had the past few weeks of the term, but at least he’d recently shaved. George was beginning to worry—not only about his general well-being, but Matty’s ability to grow the patchiest beard but the most solid moustache. Meanwhile, George had success with neither and was losing his own ability to grow hair on his head before thirty. Some guys just had all the luck: the looks, brains, sense of humor, charm—

“Which class is this for again? You had three of them.” George said, shutting and locking the door. He flicked off the porch lights, expecting and inviting no other visitors now that Matty was there. He followed after Matty.

Matty was back in his usual spot at George’s kitchen counter, placing one wine bottle down between the barstools before shouldering off his worn, nearly-beaten, leather briefcase onto his seat. Matty always claimed the stool closest to the wall. He began leaving—most likely forgetting—pencils and pens on the lip of the counter that extended up the wall. Even though they’d only been seeing each other for four months, George figured it wouldn’t be too much of a gesture to wordlessly replace his napkin holder with a pencil cup.

“This was the intro class. Other classes finished last week.”

“Right, right.” George nodded. This classifier helped him very little; every class Matty described to George felt introductory. Made him feel like he was sitting in the desks himself, green and confused, just trying to scramble together some foundational understanding.

“I told them: short and succinct. Six pages maximum. They don’t have to show off—I’ll know by how they write it if they are copying, bullshitting, or absolutely clueless. I took the same class—same professor—during my very first term. I know the subject and am their intended audience. I told them seven times last week the only person they were writing to was me. Not Dr. Wriley, not even each other; just me. And you know what they did?” Matty exclaimed. He threw his one empty hand up in exasperation as he looked at the top-most essay in his other hand. “They all wrote me dissertations on Euripides. Which means that I will have no time to work on my own. It’s like they heard I cancelled my trip home and thought I was just planning on fucking about.” Matty rolled his eyes. He paused, lifting his eyebrows in consideration before scowling again. “George, I swear, they gave me so much to read, I’m going to have to call my optometrist again by New Year’s. I'm going to be blind before I graduate."

“I’m sorry, love.” George said, trying to translate the regretful, apologetic look on his face into his voice; Matty hadn’t looked up at him since they greeted each other at the door. With every second that Matty stayed distracted and frazzled, George began to think his entire plan that evening was not a good idea. Not what Matty wanted to be asked after such a taxing day. "Is there anything I can do—”

“—and I know there’s no way you’ve studied the Murray and Woodruff translations so I can’t exactly ask you to read any of these for me so…” Matty paused and grumbled away alternatives to his sentence. “It’s just going to be a very long night. You can help by keeping me awake.”

“Do you have to read them all tonight? Pretty sure you can let yourself have an hour of sleep. Maybe actually have dinner with your boyfriend,” George said. “Think I can convince you of at least that?”

Matty let the full stack of essays thud onto the counter and sighed. His shoulders fell with his exhale as he finally looked back at George. Before he could respond with his usual, quick-witted quip his eyes fell from George’s face to his clothes: his pristine, pressed shirt and polished belt buckle visible just above the countertop; his necklace resting in the gap left by his intentionally neglected shirt buttons; his rings dressing the fingers wrapped around the two stemmed wine glasses; the silver earring George had accidentally taken from Matty’s spot at his bathroom sink—he only ever wore one of them anyway.

“Wait. You’re all dressed up.” Matty seemed startled by the realization. He looked down at his own clothes—a sweater, slacks, and polo combo he wore frequently when he was running on little sleep; comfort and professionalism without having to think too much—and looked back up at George with a look of panic and apology. “You’re all dressed up and I—”

“Look very handsome.” George assured him. He placed both glasses down before grabbing a bottle of wine. They were two different labels: end of term gifts from faculty or perhaps an older, friendlier student. “As you always do—usually I’m the one in slippers and joggers when you come over. Your jumper’s got buttons on it. That’s pretty sophisticated for this place, you know that.” George was hoping Matty would laugh, but concern kept his expression tight and furrowed.

“Are you supposed to be going out—am I interrupting something? Fuck! Oh, shit. Is your stupid little elbow-rubbing holiday party tonight?” Matty gasped as he looked at his watch—before gasping and swearing again. “Fuck, I’m sorry. It’s not stupid, George. I didn’t mean it like that—” His words began to gain speed and George held out a gentle hand to hopefully slow him back down.

“Don’t be sorry. Label holiday dinner parties are stupid little elbow-rubbing events. You’re completely right. Per usual.” George laughed. “But, if it makes you feel better, it’s tomorrow. I didn’t skip anything. I’m exactly where I want to be.”

“Oh. Okay.” Matty nodded.

George knew what Matty looked like when he understood something—his face relaxed and he slightly offset his jaw while he dipped his head in slow, steady nods, blinking each time. Standing in his kitchen, Matty’s eyebrows were still knitted together; his eyes were looking between his papers, his keys, his bag, and the door; and he was pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth so harshly George was afraid he’d draw blood.

“Let’s try another one: would you believe I was waiting for you?” George chose to focus on the corkscrew in his hands rather than Matty’s face as he spoke. George was being sincere and he had been waiting for Matty’s arrival since he’d texted him about his first class around noon that day, but George wasn’t sure he was ready for the look on Matty’s face when he admitted the gesture—or if he knew how to minimize the look on his own face in case the act was too much or too soppy when really Matty just wanted to come in and have a quick rant and a hasty glass or two of wine, before sinking deep into his work. George's only job then would be to make sure by midnight Matty was at least no longer in creased trousers and a belt, lounging next to George in bed while he continued to read.

“You didn’t have to do that, George. It was an exam day—and that’s always a crapshoot as to when the students all finish, you know that.”

“But exam day means end of the term, right? Well, minus the grading.” George winced as he waved the removed cork toward the stack of essays. “But that’s something to celebrate, right? You’re free—for at least a little while.”

“Oh, I see. Celebrate, huh?” Matty caught George’s attention again with a short, low laugh. He looked at George with lifted eyebrows. “You know, I’ll never understand your pretense to get dressed up when your main goal is to get undressed. You keep doing it, George. Just answer the door with about fifty percent of an outfit and I’ll get the idea a lot faster. I’m a smart man. I can handle it.”

“Yeah, because you come over after an exhausting day of teaching and dealing with end of year administrative hoop-jumping and the first thing you want to deal with is me practically steering you right to the couch.”

Matty seemed to mull the idea over. “You know, I wouldn’t hate that… But, I guess you’re right. Maybe answering the door fully clothed is a better idea. Perhaps you are sensible, George. I keep forgetting. Thank you.” Matty reached over to touch George’s forearm holding the wine bottle—and about to pour the contents all over the counter. Matty was looking at George with an expression that always took him by surprise. Made him freeze in place and thought. Made him feel in awe, for a split (hopefully) undetectable moment, of the life he’d found himself in.

Matty’s eyes were locked on George’s, not moving even as their moment of connection drug on into an extended silence while George scrambled for his next charming response—just trying to keep up. Matty’s smile was subtle, almost timid, compared to what George knew to be his full, squinted grin. It was all in Matty’s cheeks, in the subtle roundness at their peaks, just under his eyes. A small hint for George; the single location that was a giveaway to George, in an otherwise seemingly neutral expression to everyone else, he was being seen in a startling private and intimate way, even when they were alone.

George knew, once he handed over the full wine glass, he had a limited amount of time before his window of opportunity would close and the night would shift over to a blur of Matty growing chatty and trying to explain the faults of his students papers—and hopefully a few successes—while George gulped down his own wine and sounds of confusion; both of them giggling as the papers were forgotten and empty wine glasses nearly clattering to the floor as Matty climbed to sit on the edge of the counter, legs on either side of George and feet resting on the horizontal back rung of George’s chair; George only wanting to listen to the way his name sounded when being gasped and sucked in through clenched teeth—

“Actually," George began speaking before he could talk himself out of it. "there is a reason—there’s something I wanted to ask you.” George came around and sat down in his chair at the counter. Matty moved his bag and joined George, taking the other wine glass with a quiet thank you.

“Oh, yeah?” Matty kept the subtlety to his smile but let his eyes change from even and gentle to intense and direct. George was going to lose his courage—because he definitely didn’t have the will to resist Matty, sitting in his kitchen without any early classes the next morning, looking sharp and clever in his work clothes, freshly shaved, and looking at George like that without even a drop of wine in him. “What else is there you could ask me to do, George? If you’ve thought of it and I haven’t tried it, you’ll really surprise me.”

“Would you like to go with me tomorrow?” George said. He took a gulp of wine from his glass. “Be my date to my stupid little elbow-rubbing dinner.”

Matty’s confusion returned faster than before. “Wait—to the label holiday party? W-Work? You want me to go to a work function with you?”

“You asked me if I wanted to go to a faculty dinner the other week.”

“Yeah, because half the department is over sixty-five, doesn’t actually know my name, and hasn’t listened to any music that came out after the year they first started getting laid. They probably would’ve thought you taught there too! But your work… that’s a real dinner, George. Those are important people.”

“And so are you.” George said. He hated how immediate his response was, if only for how canned it sounded. He’d already thought of each of Matty’s arguments; he wanted to bring Matty to a party filled with people that pretended to know him best. If they were going to market him and his personal work (and personal life), they could at least know just who that involved. “My work is important to me, but you are too, equally so. I don’t see the issue. Sort of a natural combination, I’d think.”

“George,” Matty said with a quiet sigh of pity. “I barely knew who you were when we met. I-I should not be in a room with… with… pioneers of culture. I will make a fool out of myself, and worse, you.”

“You won’t make a fool out of me, Matty. You forget I’ve been attending these things for ten years. I used to bring ‘girlfriends’ with me. Absolutely no one has made me look more like an idiot than me at important, career-defining label functions, let me assure you.” George said with a laugh. He reached over to place a hand on Matty’s leg. “I know this is a big ask though, coming to something like this. But it’s a close-door dinner party—just, well, I guess they’re my co-workers. The boys will be there, definitely. But if you don’t want to—”

“I didn’t say that. Never said I didn’t want to go, but...” Matty placed his hand on top of George’s, his finger mindlessly tracing the ring on George’s pinky. “Am I really the person you want to bring along and introduce to... genuinely your entire social circle? Social and work circle? Talk about pissing where you eat, George.”

“Matty, I’m pretty sure everyone on the label being my friends is the example of pissing where I eat. Not bringing you to a party.” George said, shaking his head. “People asked me if you were coming, if you must know.”

“Probably because they don’t want me to be there—” Matty cut himself off with a long sip of wine.

“Matty,” With two fingers, George carefully grabbed the stem of his glass and eased it away from his mouth—without spilling it down the front of him. “First off, even if someone didn’t want you to be there—for whatever reason: you’re new, you’re not industry, you’re a man—I’d still like you to be there. Me. As my date. Not theirs... If you wanted, of course.”

Matty paused and began to bite his thumbnail. “Are you sure no one’s going to mind if I’m just… sitting there in the corner, awkward and quiet?”

“Babe, what do you think I do at these things?” George laughed. He waited for Matty to smile, his mouth preoccupied and unable to chew his cuticle, before using one finger to lower Matty's hand back down to his own lap, where George was holding his other hand. “It’ll be nice to finally have someone join me in the corner.”

Matty inhaled slowly, squeezing George’s hand before speaking again. “I’d love to go.”

“Yeah?” George’s relief—his joy—came out as incredulity. As the immediate questioning of Matty’s decision—and accidental chance to rescind his response. George held his breath but didn't have to wait very long.

“Yes! Yes, I want to go with you. Corner and all.” Matty managed to say before George kissed him.

In a breathless giggle, hands resting on George’s shoulders, Matty said he was very lucky there was a wall behind him.

[rabbitcoveredinmoss]

TRANS SOAP HEADCANONS

I SAW SOMEONE LIKE 2 MONTH AGOS ON TIKTOK SAY SOAP WAS TRANS AND I JUST-

AHH JUST YESS

Also me, the author(hi), i am trans

Being trans is so epic !! 

——————

Trans Soap Headcanons :3

▸Constantly shirtless on base, LOVES showing off his top surgery scars, Price would tell him to put on shirt on but he worries that would be transphobic 

▸He/Him or He/They

▸Price taught him how to shave

▸If anyone says something transphobic to Soap, him and the rest of the 141 and Laswell will hunt them down and the person will “mysteriously disappear”

▸Has tiny little trans flags all on his room

▸Gave Price a small trans flag once, he keeps it in his pen/pencil holder on his desk at all times

▸He can easily take care of himself but enjoys having the optional support from the rest of his team

▸Was very scared to come out at first, fumbling and stuttering on his words, talking very quiet, but when he finally got it everyone was quick to accept and comfort him

▸It took awhile for his voice to start dropping on T which made him quit dysphoric

▸Gaz tried his best to help with deep voice practices but he doesn’t really know what he’s doing in this situation. Just sat back and gave occasional thumbs up 😭 

▸When his voice did start dropping and he got voice cracks, Gaz would always playfully tease him about it

▸”Your man self is finally coming out!”

▸”There’s the man I like to hear!”

▸When he was on T long enough to start bottom growth, Price put him on a temporary work hold and Ghost was the main person to take care of him during that time

▸Constantly complaining about how much it hurt when he closed his legs to far

▸Used the T gel, a big wimp when it comes to needles and peeling sticky items off (he hairy)

▸Laswell was the one to offer supplying/first starting T, resulting in a very quick “YES” response from Soap 

▸Ghost helped him cut his hair short for the first time and Gaz currently helps him with it

▸Couldn’t wear a binder much before his surgery, would layer two sports bras on and many layers of baggy-ish under/shirts 

▸Would have to take his showers later at night, in the male shower room with Laswell on watch outside ( showering in the girls room made him dysphoric :[ 

▸Wearing his kilt does not make him dysphoria in the slightest, makes him proud more than anything

*SCOTLAND FOREVERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

▸Def has Blahaj, sleeps with it every night he can

▸Very protective of trans kids >:( 

▸NOT a “uwu soft must protect trans boi”, He probs doesn’t even know what that means. But the thought of being seen as defenceless aggravates him. He just likes being soft sometimes in regards to his gender identity, don't be dense cissy

——————

Image credit: Me, I made it

I love being cringe omg

[aishangotome]

Main Story Chapter 15-05: A Murder (一次謀殺) | Light and Night 光與夜之戀

Please consider reading Chapter 15-03 before you proceed

In the coming days, I spent all my time helping Sariel pack and clean up his office.

You: Sariel, can I have this ruler? 

Sariel: Yes.

You: You didn't finish using the rest of this notebook, do you still want it? If not, then I'm also going to take it with me. 

Sariel: Okay.

You: This pen holder, can I--- 

Sariel: You're the one who brought me this pen holder. 

I glanced at the tender silk and color of the pen holder, then smiled with embarrassment. 

You: Oh yeah, I forgot. 

Sariel finished taping up a cardboard box and stood up. 

Sariel: Has nobody asked you why your desk turned into a recycling bin these past few days? 

You: Nope. However, somebody did borrow a pencil that you've used before and said they wanted to get lucky from it. 

Sariel: How unreasonable. 

You: I'm going to put these things back at my desk first, and then I'll come back. 

Sariel gave me a nod. I was hugging a big box of items close to my chest and walked unsteadily outside the office. 

Sariel: Are you sure you can go back like this? You---

As soon as he stopped talking, my toes kicked something hard on the ground. Fortunately, my other foot took a step forward, barely stabilizing myself. 

*KADA, KADA -- DING!* The sound came from something that seemed to have rolled to my feet. I lowered my head to see what I had tripped over, and suddenly felt a chill come over me. 

It was the crane flower that was originally on his door. 

The dirt was splattered all over the ground. The pot didn't shatter, but I was unsure if it had any cracks. The most heartbreaking thing was that the lush, oily leaves and branches were broken, all from me stepping on it. 

You: Oh no! 

I quickly crouched down and picked up the fallen leaves. But no matter how much I fiddled with them, the leaves continued to droop downwards. 

You: Sariel, what should we do? 

Sariel also crouched down beside me. He carefully examined the leaves and broken parts of the plant, then shook his head. 

Sariel: These leaves are already dead. 

You: It's all my fault, is there really nothing we can do to save it? 

Sariel: Cut off the dead leaves. Perhaps new ones will grow in place of them. 

He turned around as his gaze stopped on my face. 

Sariel: Something as small as this can cause you this much distress? 

You: The flower pot has a drawing of me on it, of course I want it to continue being displayed here. 

Sariel rubbed his forehead, and I thought he was about to say something like "This is a drawing of a bird, not you." 

But he didn't. Instead, he simply stared at the drawings of a few birds on the flower pot for awhile. 

Afterwards, he bent down and picked up the flower pot with the plant, placing it back on his desk. Specks of dirt scattered along the edge of his clothes, leaving some stain marks behind. 

I curiously watched as Sariel's slender hands touched the fallen leaves. 

Slowly, very slowly... he finally removed his hand. 

The stem stood upright for a second before promptly returning to its' drooping posture.

You: It really can't be helped. 

You: Forget it, I'll use scissors to trim the leaves so I can use them as bookmarks then. 

You: Embrace change, this is what Director Qi personally taught me. 

I noticed that he let out a smell, gentle smile, but he did not respond to my remark. He remained lost in thought, staring at the flower pot. 

You: Director Qi? Sariel? 

I waved my hand in front of his eyes. 

Sariel: I heard you. 

Sariel: There's no need to fix it right now. Let's transplant them to the garden first and see what we can do. 

I nodded in understanding. Perhaps the garden would aid in its' recovery. 

Sariel: As for the flower pot, it can be used to grow a different plant. 

You: Can I choose the plant? 

Sariel: Once you choose one, you have to grow it yourself. 

You: Deal! 

I picked up a stack of discarded paper and tape and quickly fixed the potted plant, then looked around and discovered that this was the last item in the office to be put away. 

I was speechless for a moment as I stared into the empty room. 

Sariel was also taking in the same image as the sunlight came in from the window and casted a glow on his hair. 

Sariel: Let's go. 

You: Okay. 

As I followed Sariel out the door, I quietly waved my hand at the empty room in the last few seconds before the door closed. 

The large desk, the sofa that we would nap on, the door that I had knocked on countless times before, as well as the sunlight that casts on his shoulders- thank you, and goodbye. 

The weather had turned hot as summer arrived, I thought to myself as I placed a cardboard box in front of Sariel's front door. 

Sariel had said that he didn't need help with this part. 

I told him that "If I knew that I couldn't follow you home, I wouldn't be able to help myself chasing after your car and run 800 meters to see you off." 

The familiar figure in the distance parked his car and walked over. As he was approaching, I noticed a thin layer of sweat on his forehead. 

At the same time, I noticed that he was still wearing his coat and dress shirt. 

You: Sariel, do you have a habit of checking the weather each day before heading out? 

Sariel: No, and there is no need to. 

You: No wonder you are wearing so many layers, today is the hottest day of the season. 

Sariel: I've always dressed like this. 

You: Now that you mention it... I guess that's true. 

He had always been reluctant to put on or remove clothing, unless it was the peak of winter or during scorching summers. Only then would he change his outfit to blend in with the crowd. 

No matter how calm one's mind is or how strong one's physique is, the body should still have a limit on how much it can take. 

 I watched as Sariel pulled at his neck collar and sighed to myself.

You: If you want to unbutton the neck collar, you don't have to mind me. 

You: We aren't in office right now, so it should be fine. 

Sariel's hand paused for a moment, but the expression on his face did not seem troubled. Instead, it was as if this thought had never occurred to him before.

His expression was so funny that I couldn't hold my laughter in.

Sariel's expression suddenly turned serious. He glanced at me angrily and turned to entered his house. 

And that is how I ended up in the current situation. 

I sat beside him, watching him wipe the dust off a non-working fan that he found from the basement, completely ignoring my presence. 

You: Sariel, I'm really sorry. 

You: I know that even though you've left Wan Zhen, you are still my mentor, and I should still respect you. 

Sariel: If you say one more word then you can clean this yourself. 

You: Okay I won't say anymore. 

I pulled an invisible zipper across my lips and went to tease the little gecko near me instead. He was leaning comfortably against the window, humming to himself. 

It had been quite awhile since I've last visited Sariel's house. The little gecko's tropical residence seemed to have undergone an expansion, with more plants and flowers scattered around.

That's right, I know his real name now. His name was Qi She. 

You: Qi She, since you can transform into a little dragon, and you can transform into a human, don't you feel uncomfortable living in this tank?

Qi She: I'm not sure why either, but I really enjoy living here. There is a sense of safety, and it looks so pretty. 

Qi She: Plus, ever since the time I pretended.... uh, I mean ever since I accompanied Sariel to drop off your medicine, there seems to be more things as the weeks go by.

Qi She: Look at this area. This decoration is something that everyone would envy. 

You: This is only right, patients should certainly have privileges. 

Qi She: Patient... oh, right. But you definitely shouldn't give me any special treatment, you should reserve the special treatment for that patient. 

He picked up his little arm and pointed towards Sariel. 

Qi She: We should stop talking here, miss. He'll get jealous again, you should go back now. 

As I was banished by the little gecko,  I had to return to where I came from. Just as I took a few steps, he spoke up again.

Qi She: Oh yeah, when the fan is fixed, can you bring it to me so I can feel the cool breeze? 

You: Of course I can.

I returned to where Sariel was and sat down beside him. He was still cleaning off the leaves of the plant, with a slight frown on his face. The fingers that were typically kept clean were now a bit dirty and rough. 

It was so quiet around the house that I instinctively wanted to make a noise. Even if we weren't speaking, any noise would've been good. 

The first melody that popped into my mind was the one that the little gecko had just hummed. I only listened to it for a little bit, but I seemed to remember it. 

I couldn't remember the lyrics to the song as it sounded like some ancient poem, but the melody was exceptionally pleasant to listen to. 

You: hm~ hm~ hmhm~ hm~~~

Sariel: Who taught you this melody? 

I pointed at my lips, reminding him that I had been silenced by him. Sariel let out a sigh. 

Sariel: Speak. 

You: Qi She was humming it, so I am just copying him. 

Sariel did not show any displeasure, so I presumed that he liked listening to it. I had liked it very much as well. The melody seemed to carry a sort of magic, letting those who listened to it feel more calm and at peace. 

Qi She: But I didn't hum this much of the melody earlier. I only hummed a few notes. 

Qi She: Miss, you are so creative, but I don't think Sariel likes to listen to this song. 

The little gecko didn't finish his sentence before closing his mouth as if he thought of something. 

You: Oh, Sariel doesn't like listening to it? 

Sariel: That's not it. 

As soon as I spoke, he had cut in immediately, ending the conversation. He continued to clean the leaves and gently put them aside. 

I looked at Sariel, and then at the little gecko, confused as to what was true. But since Sariel says it wasn't true, then I guess it wasn't. 

You: As I was saying, it's such a nice melody. 

The little gecko turned over, exposing his belly to the sky, as if he was remembering something. 

Qi She: That is true, but that is still not the best melody. 

Qi She: It requires some musical instruments and a few more vocal parts to make it better. This song was originally written with these additions. 

You: Little gecko, I didn't know that you were also a musician!

Qi She: I'm clueless about music, it's Sariel and--- 

*DANG* I heard a small sound behind me. I quickly turned my head around and was met with a crimson red color. 

Sariel's right finger had a cut and blood was seeping out of it. It must've come from the blades of the fan when he was trying to fix it. 

He only stared at the wound without moving, as if something else was on his mind. 

Why is he so out of it today, I thought to myself. 

You: Sariel, where is your first aid kit? 

Sariel: I don't have one. 

You: What? 

Sariel: I don't have that kind of stuff at home. 

You: What about Band-Aids? Or medical gauze? 

Sariel: I don't have them. Don't worry about it.

You: How could we not? The blade that cut you had so much dust on it. At the very least, we need to disinfect it.

Fortunately, I found a bottle of iodine and clean cotton pads. I placed the two items on the table. 

Sariel: How annoying. 

Although he said that, he still opened the bottle of iodine with one hand, using the force of his index finger and thumb. 

There were no cotton swabs, so he took a the cotton pad and dipped it into the bottle, then pressed it against his wound.

After that, relying on his left hand and the two fingers on his right hand, he skillfully wrapped up the wound with a piece of cloth. 

Sariel: Are you satisfied now? 

You: Yes, I'm satisfied. 

Sariel: Don't overreact like this next time. 

You: Next time, you should have a first aid kit at home. 

I sighed.

You: On the first day of quitting a job, luck is usually not very good. This is what metaphysics teaches. 

Sariel: That is called superstition, not metaphysics. 

I pulled on his sleeves. 

You: Maybe it would be better to check out the basement. 

Sariel: What are we going to the basement for? 

You: To see if the flowers have bloomed. If they have, then we need to transfer them to the garden.

Sariel: Right now is not their blooming season. 

I don't know if I was looking too much into it, but Sariel's expression seemed to show acceptance, a bit of longing, and also a bit of sadness. 

The same wide and ancient looking basement. The same windows, mountain scenery, clouds, and blue skies. 

And the same two people standing in front of the windows. 

Except this time, the flowers did not bloom.

.

It was already golden hour time when I left Sariel's house. I turned back and looked at the character "Qi," imprinted on the wooden sign at his door.

The first time I came, this place looked like a mysterious forest. Now, it just looked like an ordinary house. 

You: Ordinary... 

I stood still at that spot. 

I had finally realized why I had felt a sense of unease all day.

The leaves that could not be saved, eating more, a thin layer of sweat, and a wound that would not stop bleeding--- 

This version of Sariel was just like a normal human, a real human being. 

You: Am I just overthinking it? 

You: In the past... it's not like he was that unordinary though.

.

Sariel stood by the window, staring at the flowers that were planted right outside. "Can you guys bloom now?" he asked in his heart. 

But he knew the answer as soon as he thought the question.

This was the tone that the girl would use. In the past, this is how she would urge the flowers to bloom, without them needing to say a word. 

Sariel returned to the house and moved the crane flower to the garden, removing some dead leaves and roots. 

Qi She: Sariel, this plant is already dead.

Sariel: I know, I just want to try planting it again.

Qi She: Do you really have no more powers at all? Not even a little bit? 

Qi She: I have never heard of this being a result of degeneration. 

Sariel: Me neither.

Qi She displayed a look of worry on his face, something that he couldn't do when he was in his gecko form.

Qi She: Even if that is the case, do you really still have to go to Lin Island? The security there has become particularly strict. 

Sariel: I have to go no matter what.

Qi She: Forget it. It seems like your old friend will have to come help you one more time. 

Sariel avoided his wound and washed the soil off the rest of his hands. He then took the fan that he had repaired and placed it on the top of the window next to the gecko's tank. 

Sariel: Do not come with me. Stay home. 

Staring at him with a dumbfounded expression, the first thing that came to his mind was--- 

Qi She: So you really were eavesdropping when I was talking to the girl!

In the quarterly news that was sent out last Thursday, there were a list of names who passed the assessment and would be participating in the promotion ceremony. Among the list was my name. The office was filled with warm sounds of "congratulations" and teasing all around.

Perhaps it was because I had already known about this awhile ago that I did not have a reaction when I first saw my name. But while the initial joy had passed, pressure soon arose.

Sometimes, I'd wonder if I could really handle the work of being an Intermediate Designer, such as leading a team. Then I would remember the responsibilities of being a brand manager and realized that just being an Intermediate Designer would probably not be enough.

Time quickly passed by as I sat with the emotions of joy and anxiety.

Ever since I lost all contact with Charlie, I had developed a habit of checking various news outlets every day.

One week, then two weeks, and there was still no contact. No news on anything related to the case. 

It has been awhile since Charlie last contacted me. I know he had several other businesses, but I never tried to look for him either.

I no longer believed that I could escape that snake-like gaze. I was not strong enough. All I could do was protect myself and not become somebody else's weakness. 

The only place I've been to that was related to Charlie would be the hospital. I had asked Doctor He for a key to Charlie's office so that I could occasionally visit and spend some time in there.

I would tear off the past days on his calendar, so that it would be up to date when he returned. 

A few more days had passed, and it was time to find out the results of the lottery ticket that Charlie had helped choose the numbers for. This was also a day that I had been waiting for. This ticket was one of the few things left between us. 

You: We actually won $100! 

Looking at the redemption rules, it seemed that there were only 3 days to redeem the prize. I had no other choice than to go claim it first. 

You: Winning a lottery prize is such a rare thing, but Charlie can't even come to claim the prize. It seems that he is a little unlucky. 

As I was mumbling to myself, I couldn't help but to smile. I could already imagine Charlie's face, stubbornly refusing to admit it. 

After redeeming the prize at the lottery kiosk, the shop owner suggested that I use the prize money to exchange for another lottery ticket to continue my winning streak. I declined and opted for a check instead. 

This way, Charlie would have something to keep as a memento. I carefully put the check into a separate compartment in my wallet so as to prevent it from being mixed in with the other bills. 

It was at this moment that I felt something tug at the corner of my shirt. I looked over and saw a young child standing there, holding a bouquet of multi-colored roses in his arms. 

He raised his head and handed the bouquet over to me. 

You: ?

Child: An uncle wearing sunglasses told me to give this to you. 

You: Uncle? 

Child: Yes. He told me to give it to the Miss standing at the lottery counter, and said she was the most compatible person for him. 

Why did this phrase sound so familiar. I looked at the child and let out a smile. 

You: Then, how did you find me? 

Child: Because you are the only Miss here. Everyone else is an Uncle.

You: ... ...

I looked around me and saw that he was right. I received the bouquet of flowers and noticed a paper card, shaped like a heart, sticking out from the middle. The card had a sentence, written in script, and it also released a sweet fragrance into the air. 

You: Ah... 

It was Charlie! There was no question about it. It was his clumsy handwriting and the scent of cologne. Two things that I was familiar with. 

Why did have to use this method to contact me all of a sudden? Could he have run into danger?! 

I raised my head and wanted to ask the child where he met Charlie, but the child was already gone. I looked back at the card and noticed he had written the name of a nearby MRT station, along with the numbers 03046. 

The station was not too far from here. I soon arrived, but did not see Charlie. 

You: 03047... ... could it mean that we are meeting here at 3:47? 

No, it couldn't be. The station would have already closed by then, and he could've just directly written it in a time format. 

You: Could it be referring to the schedule of a specific train? 

I found a staff member nearby and briefly asked them about it, but could not find any connections between the string of numbers and their train schedule.

You: What could these numbers be referring to... ... 

??: Please come back again. 

It was in that moment that I heard the sentence, spoken in a robotic voice, and I suddenly realized what it was. 

You: Of course, the lockers! 

A lot of new lockers had been placed in the MRT this year. It could easily be accessed by scanning a code with your own cell phone, then setting a password. After that, you could store your items in there for a period of time. 

I turned towards the lockers and took a look at the lock. It had exactly 5 spots for the passcode.

I entered 03047 and suddenly heard a beep. The door to a locker opened, and two small, round objects appeared before me. 

You: What is this? 

I took them out and carefully examined then, before double checking the locker to make sure that there was nothing else inside. 

The round objects were black, very thin, with small protrusions around the edges. It looked like it could be made of metal, but it didn't feel like metal. 

I was puzzled and deep in thought when a message popped up on my phone. 

Unknown (SMS): Fiancée, I need your help. 

You (SMS): Charlie?! 

Charlie (SMS): Inside the station's locker are two listening devices. 

So they were listening devices after all. I was not familiar with these things and it was the first time I had seen something like it. 

I quickly closed the locker door and walked to an empty corner of the station. 

You (SMS): I already have them. What do you need me to do? 

Charlie (SMS): Just like that? You don't have any questions for me? 

You (SMS): Other questions... oh yeah, are you safe right now? 

Charlie (SMS): I am very safe. But that's not what I'm talking about. 

Charlie (SMS): You should have refused me first, and then tried to understand the situation before readily agreeing. 

My fingers lingered on the keyboard. The tone that he used was very relaxed, but I still felt a sense of restlessness in them. 

Idleness and rejection were two very different things. 

I had a feeling that even if he was safe right now, the situation was probably not very good. 

You (SMS): You've once said that you would ask me for help only when you had no other choice. 

You (SMS): I also trust that you must have considered my safety before making this decision. 

This time, it took a little while before Charlie sent another text back. 

Charlie (SMS): Has anyone ever told you that you are starting to sound like me? 

Charlie (SMS): So good at speaking, leaving the other person at a lost for words. 

You (SMS): He who stays near ink is stained black. 

*This is a poetic figure of speech in Chinese meaning that people are easily influenced by their surroundings and the companions they hang out with. 

Charlie (SMS): My hair is a sterling silver, my eyes amethyst, my heart the color of ardent fire, so whatever colors it may be, it still wouldn't be black.

I could not help but to laugh as I stared at his response. My heart felt a little less anxious.

You (SMS): Tell me what you need me to do. 

Charlie (SMS): Yes, ma'am. 

Charlie (SMS): My father has been moving between hospitals recently, and his conversations with the higher ups will be very important. 

Charlie (SMS): But he is very discreet, so I can't find an opportunity to get close to him. And now, with my identity, I cannot enter these places either.

Thus, the need for wiretapping is explained. And the best place to do this would be--- 

You (SMS): You want me to help you plant the listening device on your father? 

You (SMS): But how would I do that? 

Charlie (SMS): A suit. Remember you told him that you would make him a suit? 

You (SMS): But would he still trust me now? 

Charlie (SMS): I cannot be certain, which is why you need two listening devices. 

Charlie (SMS): But I know that he WILL see you, and he will try the suit on in front of you. 

You (SMS): How are you so sure? 

Charlie (SMS): Because he is arrogant, and he uses his knowledge to manipulate others. Except, he is not the only one with this trick. 

I stared at his message for a bit, and noticed that I could not imagine the tone he would be saying it in.

You (SMS): And then what? 

Charlie (SMS): Then you leave it to me. Remember to delete this number and erase our history of messages. I will not be using this number again. 

You (SMS): Wait... since you can text me, why didn't you just text me the station name and locker passcode? 

Charlie (SMS): Because I feel that acting like a spy to deliver information would be more romantic.

Charlie (SMS): Also, I wanted to see you up close. There are a lot of people here, and two of the cameras are not working. 

Charlie (SMS): Fiancée, your absent-mindedness and smile are still as adorable as ever. 

I instantly raised my head and looked around, but only saw strangers everywhere. 

I knew that Charlie must be close by. Although we could not talk face-to-face, this arrangement still made me feel calm and happy. 

You (SMS): I will get this done. Also, the flowers are beautiful, but how could you still be buying such expensive flowers during this time? 

Charlie (SMS): Tell me, were you happy when you saw the flowers? 

You (SMS): Yes. 

Charlie (SMS): Then the money was well spent. 

You (SMS): What if I said I wasn't happy? 

Charlie (SMS): Then you'd be lying, because I already saw you smile. 

The screen showed that he was still in the chatroom. I felt like next message would tell me that he was going to leave soon. Instead of continuing the conversation, I reluctantly erased my message and replaced it with a reminder for him to stay safe.  

At this moment, a broadcast came over the speaker saying that the station would experience a brief power outage, which would not affect the train operations. Everyone was asked to patiently wait for a few minutes, and all the lights flickered off. 

Charlie (SMS): Fiancée, the electricity is out. 

You (SMS): I've never heard of the train station having a power outage, could it be related to the fact that you are here right now? 

Charlie (SMS): I know you think that I am extremely unlucky, but I feel quite the opposite. Do you want to guess why? 

I looked to the side, and saw that the locker that was lit just now had also turned pitch black. 

You (SMS): That's true. Good thing I was able to pick up the items you left for me before the power outage. 

Charlie (SMS): You've only guessed correctly by 1/9999. 

Then what was the 9998/9999? I waited for him to respond, but no text message came again. 

What came was a burst of sweet and spicy aroma, along with the outline of a tall and familiar figure in the darkness. 

I could not see his face under the dim light from the phone screen. I could only faintly discern that he seemed to have slimmed down in the same coat that he always wore. He was looking at me, his gaze filled with warmth. 

He stood a little bit closer. Although I didn't have to, I couldn't help but to close my eyes. The sound of laughter came gently into my ears as I felt Charlie lean down and give me a hug. 

Charlie (SMS): I've wanted to do this from the moment I saw you walk in earlier. 

.

.

--The Chairman's Office of NOVATEN Pharmaceutical Group--

Before me sat Charlie's father. His face wore an expression of deep concern and sorrow, imitating the features of a caring father. 

Zha Zhao Peng: I understand Charlie's personality too well. He must have some sort of misunderstanding and is stuck on something trivial. 

Zha Zhao Peng: So Miss Y/N, if you hear any news about him, you must immediately tell me. Or at least help me persuade him. 

Zha Zhao Peng: I don't want my son to inadvertently become a criminal. 

Liar. 

I held the cup of tea that he made me, but did not drink it. The residue in the cup seemed like a pool of thick, viscous poison.

It took me a week to make this suit, and then I had to go through Uncle Ji to schedule a meeting with Charlie's father. 

As soon as he saw me, he asked if I knew the whereabouts of Charlie, or if I had heard from him. He said that nobody was able to contact him, making him extremely worried. 

He said that the police were waiting for Charlie's testimony in regards to Sun Tai Zhong's case, and that if he did not go, there would be a risk of being wanted by the officials. 

Liar. He was already wanted on the night of the incident, on that same evening. But I just nodded my head in response. 

You: I will. I am also very worried about him. 

Charlie's father let out a big sigh. 

Zha Zhao Peng: This will make me less worried. After all, only you young'uns can best understand one another.

Zha Zhao Peng: Look at me, I almost forgot why you came to visit. 

He patted the gift box that was sitting beside him. 

Zha Zhao Peng: Do you mind if I try the suit on? 

You: Of course not. It makes me so happy that you'd be willing to try it. 

I watched him put on the suit jacket that I brought. When he saw the double padded buttons, he looked very pleased. 

Zha Zhao Peng: You are a very talented designer. This is one of the best button designs I have ever seen. 

You: You are too kind. Does it fit well? 

Zha Zhao Peng: Extremely well. 

Zha Zhao Peng: Since this is also a gift from Charlie, I think I should wear it more often to important events. 

That's as good as it gets, I thought to myself. 

You: I won't take up any more of your time then. You must be so busy with work. 

I stood up and gave him a wave as he also stood up across from me. 

Zha Zhao Peng: This is no bother at all. Let me have somebody drive you home. 

You: No--- 

Zha Zhao Peng: I insist. Let me express my gratitude by doing this for you. 

As he stood by the window, he watched a black sedan disappear from view. The corners of his mouth frowned as a cold smile flashed across his eyes. 

He ran his fingers over the black buttons on the suit, pinched one in particular with a little force, and it fell onto his hand. 

The button split open under his grip, emitting a crisp sound. 

Zha Zhao Peng: Obvious trick. 

??: Obvious trick. 

While there was a hiss coming from the half-tuned signal, a voice began to emerge more clearly into Charlie's earpiece. Given the variation in it's volume, the transmission was likely coming from something near the junction of the suits' shoulder and his fathers' arm.

To create a better fit on the suit's upper portion, this part was purposely sewn to be stiffer, allowing a small space to insert a tiny object. 

Charlie: You did amazing, fiancée. 

The father would, as he had said, wear the suit gifted by his son to attend important events. Although he was suspicious, he was also extremely conceited, so conceited that--- Charlie lowered his eyes. 

He could sense that the power outage at the station was no accident. He was not the only one being watched. This time, the other party did not detect the two-piece listening device... or did they? 

He needed to be more careful, Charlie thought to himself. He leaned back against his chair and started to wonder how long he could rely on the brief embrace with her before they could meet again.

In the underground passage, dim yellow lights scattered the hallway, casting down on two shadows. Jesse was silently following a man.

The Lian Shan Association has different architectural styles around the world. This is based on local and cultural considerations, but the internal layout was essentially the same, and the headquarters were no exception. 

When he was in France, Jesse had researched the blueprint of Lian Shan's building. He committed to memory every room in the layout, including the areas that were off limits. 

He was confident in his own memories, and was sure that this narrow hallway they were walking in did not appear in any of the blueprints. 

Jesse suddenly felt dizzy, causing him to abruptly halt his steps, the soles of his feet scraping along the floor with a sharp hiss. 

Minister Jiang: Jesse, watch your step. There are a lot of bumpy spots here. 

Jesse: I will, thanks. 

He maintained his usual voice and tone, but a thin layer of sweat seeped out from his back. He knew that he did not crash into or hit anything. This was a consequence of controlling the soul of a living being.

Three days earlier, deep into the night, Lin Shan Association Secret Archives. 

Administrator: Minister Wang, what are you still doing here so late? Why don't you turn on some lights? Do you need me to turn them on for you? 

Minister Wang: No need, I'm about to head back. 

Minister Wang nodded at the administrator and walked away with no expression. But after taking a few steps, his body began to sway and he fell against the wall. The administrator hurried forward to stabilize him. 

Administrator: Are you okay? 

Administrator: You're awake now. You fainted just now and really gave me a scare. 

In an instant, consciousness returned to the body. Jesse coughed violently a few times, bending over and dry heaving. Trying to suppress his discomfort, he lifted his head and looked at the clock on the wall. 

Jesse: Seven minutes... ...

He had burned the talisman paper in just seven minutes. This was the first time that he could not control a borrowed body and return its original place on time. 

Learning incantations, using them repeatedly to build proficiency, this is the true path of spell cultivation. However, the more he used these forbidden techniques, the lower the effectiveness became. 

Jesse clenched his palm tightly, trying to perform the same technique again, unable to muster any strength this time. 

It was impossible to go through the data related to the solar eclipse project in the archive room this way. But the investigation was imminent, not only containing information about his father's past, but also--- 

He closed his eyes. In recent days, the scene from that night had become deeply rooted in his heart, waking him up in the middle of the night through nightmares countless times.

Lu Ting --- the leader of the Blood Clan, an important role in the solar eclipse plan. Why did he make a move against the girl? 

He wanted to know too much, and there was only one way to find what he needed. In his pocket was something sharp, coming from the corner of a piece of folded paper.

Jesse took it out and stared at it for a long time, despite the room being dark. 

And this was how he ended up here.

Yesterday, he had submitted a formal application to join the Lian Shan Association. Minister Jiang soon contacted him, hoping to meet in person. It was not difficult to guess that this topic would come up during the meeting. 

Unknowingly, they had walked to the end of the hallway, facing a metallic wall. 

On the wall were devices used to verify identification, which appeared out of place compared to the classical carvings adorning the wall. 

Jesse: Minister Jiang, this place is...? 

Minister Jiang: Oh right, this must be your first time here. This is one of the earlier offices used by the Lian Shan Association. 

On the right side of the wall, a door that measured approximately two meters high had swung open. It might've not been two meters high, as Jesse felt that he had almost hit his head when passing through. 

Upon entering the room, the image of the archive room and its' entirety came into view. There was a dome, three other stone walls, and numerous cabinets that formed around the perimeter, some of the yellow steel locks on them already rusting. 

Minister Jiang: What do you think? It looks old right? 

He pats Jesse's shoulder with a joking tone. 

Minister Jiang: Now that you're here, can you help me see if there are any lingering ghosts or spirits in here? 

Jesse: From what I can see, there is none. 

Jesse: However, I did see the ghost of a middle-aged woman as we were walking down the hallway earlier. 

Jesse: She was not malicious, and was just watching us in sorrow. 

Minister Jiang's face changed slightly when he heard the words "middle-aged woman," but he quickly recovered and looked at Jesse with appreciation. 

Jesse: Unless the soul is damaged during the extradition process, I am able to sense them. 

Minister Jiang: Good, good. You really are from the Xia family. You have the same demeanor as your grandfather from when he was young. 

Jesse looked at the Minister Jiang's hair, unsure of whether the shiny black color was natural or dyed. From his appearance, it didn't seem like he would have met Jesse's grandfather when he was young. 

But he held the highest position in the Lian Shan Association, and according to the internal system, he did have a lot of experience. 

As he was thinking about this, Minister Jiang already retracted his smile and walked over to a wooden table. He pulled out a chair and gestured for Jesse to sit down. 

Minister Jiang: Jesse, you should have a few years of experience already from helping out the division in France, right? 

Jesse: Yes. But I didn't do that much, I just occasionally went to help look at crime scenes. 

Minister Jiang: How did it feel? Some crime scenes can be very terrifying. 

Jesse: I am pretty indifferent to it. Perhaps I am naturally just more carefree.  

He scratched the back of his head, revealing a somewhat embarrassed smile. 

Minister Jiang: Young people... carefree is good, you have less worries. 

He placed a form on the table, and Jesse recognized it as the application he had submitted. The column for stamping approval was blank, indicating that it had not been approved yet. 

Minister Jiang: You said that you didn't do very much for the other division, but you're being too modest. 

Minister Jiang: I've seen the reports from their department. Just by obtaining evidence from the deceased, you've helped crack many unsolved cases and avoided many wrongful convictions. 

He was expecting a "however," but there was no "however" that came after the sentence. Jesse looked as if he had not realized this, and earnestly looked at Minister Jiang. 

Jesse: Does this mean you are willing to approve my application? 

Minister Jiang: For what reason would I be unwilling to at this point? I've even brought the stamp with me today. 

He chuckled heartily, and then took out a stamp, placing it next to the application form. 

Minister Jiang: At times like this, I wish that I had never met your grandfather, or that I at least did not get along with him. 

Jesse: What do you mean? 

Minister Jiang: Stop being so formal, just call me uncle. 

Minister Jiang: You are my old friends grandson, so I have to consider this carefully and discuss with you the pros and cons of this job. 

Minister Jiang: I'm sure you already understand the purpose behind Lian Shan Association's existence? 

Jesse: I've attended several meetings and roughly understand that they intend to preserve the welfare of humanity, while hiding the presence of gifted people, or people with special abilities.

Minister Jiang: Correct. Do you have any questions about it? This is the time to ask them. 

Jesse hesitated for a moment. He was judging whether the person in front of him was being sincere or simply testing him. 

But from the sincere expression on Minister Jiang's face, he felt that they had already expected the questions that Jesse would ask, and had also prepared answers in advance for them. 

Jesse: I do have one question. Why is our purpose to hide evidence of the gifted, instead of-- 

Minister Jiang: Coexistence. 

Jesse: Or reduce evidence. If you are to look at the whole picture, this could be another method. 

Minister Jiang casted a surprised glance at Jesse, then looked up at the towering dome. 

Jesse followed his gaze, and only then did he notice the colors covering the wall paintings, with vaguely discernable figures wearing varied clothing and having somewhat different appearances. 

Some humanoids were bound to a wooden frame, burned by flames, while others had their chest impaled by long spikes, and even more being beaten with sticks by several others wearing the same attire.

Minister Jiang: The paintings on this wall all depict historical events. You should be able to recognize at least one of them. 

Jesse: Was this a witch hunt? 

Minister Jiang: Some call it witch hunt, some call it witchcraft hysteria. Whatever the name, in essence, they all referred to the same thing. 

Jesse: Uncle Jiang--- do you mean that their appearance is related to the groups of gifted people? 

Minister Jiang: The lifespan of a human being is short, leaving only rumors behind, and the truth debatable. 

Minister Jiang: However, one thing can be certain. This is related to humans perceiving those around them as "others" who do not belong to their own group. 

Minister Jiang: For this reason, compatriots harbor mutual suspicion, impose punishments, and would even slaughter one another. 

Minister Jiang: What you see now has been documented over the last thousands of years. 

Minister Jiang: It is not easy for humans to believe in their own power. Breaking the rules are not as simple as repeating the same mistakes. 

Jesse: And that is why concealment is the safest way to preserve life. 

Minister Jiang: You could say that, yes. 

Jesse: But this type of concealment will still have its' consequences. 

Minister Jiang looked deeply at Jesse and did not immediately respond. 

Jesse: They do not adhere to the rules of human society, even if they appear to be human.

Jesse: For example, if they use their powers to commit murder, they can also leave no traces at the crime scene, making it impossible to pursue criminal investigation and legal proceedings. 

Minister Jiang: This is the responsibility of the Lian Shan Association. They are to provide a fair and reasonable explanation to the family of the victims. 

Minister Jiang: We punish these individuals to the best of our ability-- let's call them human beings. 

Jesse mulled over the phrase "to the best of our ability." 

Minister Jiang: This is the most important point, that all of this has to be carried out in secret. 

Minister Jiang: You should have discovered overseas that the Lian Shan Association can mobilize police and give them orders. 

Minister Jiang: But ordinary people do not know much about our existence.

Minister Jiang: I heard that you've achieved quite a lot in the performing arts industry, so you should be used to being noticed and recognized, right? 

The implication was that one could not adapt to working in the shadows, right? Jesse lowered his eyes, thinking about how to respond. 

Jesse: You worry too much. Musical theatre is my passion, but it does not mean that I enjoy the feeling of being in the spotlight. 

Jesse: I play these roles precisely because I do not want to expose myself in front of others. 

Minister Jiang: Then have you fully considered the dangers of joining the Association? 

Minister Jiang: You will not be able to resume your former lifestyle. 

Minister Jiang: The most fundamental part of this is that after joining, whatever you encounter depends on your luck. 

Jesse glanced over. To Minister Jiang, the youth in front of him began to show signs of hesitation. 

Minister Jiang: This is not a small issue to be overlooked. You must consider it carefully. 

Jesse: I've already--- 

I've already gotten used to it. Jesse stopped himself from blurting that out. 

He would bear a heavy price, betting on a precarious future, past and present. He seemed to always do things this way. 

However, there was nothing wrong with that. Instead, it made him feel more at peace. He smiled at Minister Jiang with the most sincere smile he'd shown up until this moment. 

Jesse: Uncle Jiang, thank you for thinking about me, but I've made a decision already. 

Jesse: I understand the risks you speak of, and I am ready to accept them. 

Minister Jiang stared at Jesse's face, as if trying to find some trace of difficulty in it. After a moment, he let out a small sigh. 

Minister Jiang: Your determination at such a young age truly makes me ashamed of my old self. 

His tone was full of praise, but what followed was not what Jesse had expected. Minister Jiang did not continue discussing the application, but fell silent instead. 

Is Lian Shan doubtful of its' own abilities? Or is was it too hard to believe in having too much determination? 

Jesse carefully observed the man's expression and demeanor. 

Jesse: Uncle Jiang, do you have any other concerns? 

Minister Jiang: I am not worried about your abilities, but what may be needed to handle these cases may require more than just abilities. 

Minister Jiang: I really want you to think about it a little more. I think letting you work on a case might give you a clearer picture of what to expect before making a decision. 

Jesse: You mean...? 

Minister Jiang: Before we officially approve your application, I want you to try handling a case first.

Jesse: I understand. 

Jesse: On one hand, my ability can be tested. On the other, this will allow me to make a more informed decision. 

Minister Jiang let out a sigh, absent-mindedly tapping his fingers on the table. 

Minister Jiang: I'm glad you understand. 

Minister Jiang: We happen to have a case right now. It is not too serious, but has sparked a lot of debate in society. 

Minister Jiang: Most of the public opinion pertains to the supernatural, and if this continues, then there could be negative consequences. 

Minister Jiang: The Association plans to take over the case from the police and resolve it as soon as possible. Your ability should come in handy. 

Jesse: I will do my best. If everything goes smoothly and we close the case, could you be the one to stamp my application form? 

Minister Jiang: Of course I can.

Minister Jiang smiled helplessly, took out a pen from his suit pocket, wrote an address on the back of the application form, and handed it to Jesse. 

Minister Jiang: Young people nowadays... I'm advising you to consider it carefully for your own good, but it sounds like I'm deliberately trying to stop you. 

Jesse: I'm sorry. I am just too excited at the prospect of potentially joining the Association. 

Minister Jiang: Okay, then I won't take up any more of your time. 

Minister Jiang: You can begin by heading to the police station. 

Minister Jiang: They've already obtained some preliminary evidence, and the victim's body has also been placed there. 

Minister Jiang: I will give them a heads up and ensure that they cooperate with your investigation. 

Jesse arrived at the lobby of the police station, but nobody paid much attention to him. The policeman brushed past him hurriedly, leaving behind only fragments of their conversations.

They were about to pick up a suspect, which seemed to be a significant step in the case, but it was more important for Jesse to examine Sun Tai Zhong's corpse at this time.

He smiled as he approached the consultation desk.

Lying in bed, I held my phone up high, swiping through a news story. 

You: The case is under investigation, and the results will be reported to all citizens who are waiting for official information. 

This was the official statement from the authorities, but it contained nothing else that was noteworthy. There was still no mention of the warrant for Charlie, which probably meant that he was right about this being the work of his father's. 

*Ding Dong* -- The doorbell rang.

??: Is anybody home? 

When I looked through the peephole, there were two men standing there. They were both wearing navy uniforms, with badges on their hats. 

You: Is there something I can help you with? 

Officer A: Hello, I will explain. 

Officer A: Recently, we have been handling a case in Guangqi City in relation to the First Union Hospital. 

Officer A: There was a witness who testified that you had entered the hospital building during that incident. 

Officer A: Because of this, I hope you can come to the police station to make a statement and help us with the investigation. 

He took out an identification card from the pocket of his jacket, showing his photo on it, along with the words "Police Building Security Identification." 

My heart clenched tightly. The events that happened that night could not be explained easily in just a few words. Even if I told them the whole truth, they would definitely not believe things like "illusions" or the like. 

Officer A: Miss Y/N, are you listening? If you have any concerns, please don't hesitate to speak up.

He moved a bit closer to the peephole, his expression not stern at all. 

Officer A: Normally, you should be able to choose where you want to give your statement. But due to the unique circumstances of this case, we had to arrange for it to take place at the station. I hope you can understand. 

Officer A: If you have concerns, you may first contact a lawyer before deciding what to do next. 

It was just for a statement. If I didn't go, it would only complicate things. 

You: Okay, I understand. 

I was sitting alone in the interrogation room, the surrounding air freezing cold, and the one-way glass window isolating me from the outside world. The two police officers who had brought me here had already left. 

The door suddenly opened, and an older police office walked in. He sat across from me without looking at my face, opened the folder in his hand, and turned towards me. 

Older Officer: This is your name and other personal information, correct? 

Older Officer: Last Saturday at 7PM, you and another male figure visited the First Union Hospital, is that correct? 

You: I don't remember the time, but I did go to the First Union Hospital. 

Older Officer: Who was the man with you? 

You: He is one of my friends.

Older Officer: His name is Charlie, correct? 

Briefly hesitating, I nodded. After all, withholding too much information might only arouse more suspicion. 

Older Officer: Why did you guys go to the hospital? What did you guys do during the time you were there? 

You: We were looking for someone, but did not end up finding them, so we just left. 

This was not entirely true. My palms were starting to sweat. This is not a place where I should have been lying. 

However, I really could not discern between what was part of the illusion and what was reality. Also Charlie... these "illusions" should not be used as evidence against him, so I could not talk about it. 

Older Officer: Who were you looking for? 

You: Zha Zhao Peng. 

Older Officer: Were you and the man working together?

You: No. 

Older Officer: Have you seen this pair of medical scissors before? 

He pushed a photo in front of me, displaying a pair of blood-stained medical scissors packed in an evidence bag.

You: I have seen medical scissors before, but they all look the same. So I can't confirm if I've seen this particular pair before. 

Older Officer: During your time at the hospital, did Charlie see Sun Tai Zhong? 

You: I am not sure.

This was the first time he had looked up and glanced at me. His eyes betrayed no emotion, yet I was feeling apprehensive. 

Older Officer: You are not sure, not "no" or "I don't know," why? 

You: Not being sure is the same meaning as "I don't know." 

Older Officer: There is a big difference between those two phrases. 

Older Officer: I hope you can be more honest with me. What did Charlie do in the hospital? 

You: I already told you. He was looking for his father but could not find him, and I don't know about anything else. 

Older Officer: Okay. 

He closed the folder, stood up, as if done with the interrogation. 

You: Am I allowed to leave now? 

Older Officer: I'm afraid not. 

Older Officer: Miss Y/N, through the interrogation just now, we have already confirmed that you are suspected of criminal activity, so we need to detain you. 

Older Officer: If you intend to change your testimony, you can inform a personnel at any time. 

A glaring white light filled the entire room, so I held up my hands to shield my eyes instinctively. In a brief moment of emptiness in my vision, I heard the sound of a door closing. 

I'm suspected of criminal activity? How could he make such a judgement just by asking a few questions? 

I had not processed the information yet, but a strong sense of panic began to rise in my heart. 

How long would they detain me for? Would I have to stay here until I "changed my testimony?" 

I sat there, dumbfounded, for I don't know how long. At some point, I realized that I wasn't restricted to the chair, so I stood up and paced around the room. 

You: I have been telling the truth. I really don't know what happened that night. 

You: How could you guys decide that I am a criminal suspect so easily? How long do you guys plan to keep me here? 

I stood in front of the one-way glass, talking incessantly, but only my own voice could be heard. In the solitude of that empty room, the flow of time became unclear. 

I could feel that somebody on the other side of the mirror was looking at me, but only chose to remain silent. 

Who would notice that I was missing? Before I left home, I didn't send messages to anyone. Today is Saturday, and I have work on Monday. Would my colleagues notice that I was missing? 

Unsure if it was my own delusion, but the light seemed to be getting brighter, and my nerves began to tingle in pain. 

My chest was filled with two conflicting emotions, feeling so restless to the point that I had wanted to break open the door with something, but also so terrified to the point that I wanted to kneel down on the ground and cry. 

You: Is there anyone outside! 

There was still no response. 

I took a few steps backwards until I was far away from the glass window and closed my eyes, but the lights would still shine through, making me feel like I was constantly being watched. 

*BANG* The door suddenly opened with a force, hitting the wall. It wasn't actually loud, but to me, it sounded like a clap of thunder. 

A black shadow loomed outside the door. 

I opened my eyes wide in fear. There was a figure standing in the shadows. 

The figure was tall, with a slender and straight posture, wearing a wide-brimmed hat and draped in a black vest. 

I immediately seized the opportunity and rushed to the door. 

You: Please listen to me. I did not commit a crime, there must be some misunderstanding! 

Running too fast in a panic, I almost stepped on the stranger's foot, but the person did not move. 

You: I'm sorry. 

I looked up and then saw his face, making me freeze in place for a moment. 

The hat was too big on him, covering more than half his forehead, revealing only a few strands of orange bangs. 

The outline of his face was round, but the lower jaw was sharp and angular. 

The pair of eyes that I was so familiar with were now a deep green at this moment, as if countless thoughts were flowing through them, too quickly for me to distinguish. Only one word came out of my mouth. 

You: Tangyuan...*Reminder: Tangyuan is MC's nickname for Jesse.

??: What are you doing? Go sit back down! 

A terrifying voice sounded, and only then did I notice that Jesse was standing in between the two officers who had brought me here earlier. 

When they came to pick me up earlier, they were very friendly, but now they seemed to have changed their demeanor. 

You: I really did not do anything! 

You: No matter what, can you please release me first? I am willing to continue cooperating with your investigation. 

Officer A: You are currently a criminal suspect, what makes you think you can make requests? Sit back down. 

He stepped forward and gestured as if to push me back into the interrogation room. 

*SNAP* As soon as the officer moved, Jesse grasped his arm with a snap. 

He applied more strength, knuckles turning white. Unsure of when this happened, he had taken my other hand, which was lightly trembling.

Jesse: Do not touch her. 

Officer A: What is the meaning of this? Weren't you the one who said you wanted to see the suspect and interrogate them some more? 

Jesse: And I've seen them. 

Jesse: This case is now under Lian Shan Association's jurisdiction. I want to take her with me. 

Officer A: You can't take her just because you say you want to. She is a suspect of this case.

Jesse: And I will take her with me now. 

Officer A: No, I already told you, the suspect needs to stay here--- 

He didn't finish speaking, because Jesse's expression had turned extremely terrifying at the mention of her name and "suspect" together. 

He clenched his left fist, with a reddish hue emerging around his joints, and the veins on his arm bulging out. Even with shallow breathing, each breath seemed to pulsate vigorously. 

Jesse: She would never hurt anyone for as long as she lives.

Jesse: What are you doing locking her up in this room? What are you trying to make her say? 

His hand grasped mine tighter and tighter. I wanted to reach out and help him loosen the grip, telling him that it's okay and to not start a conflict. 

But he firmly held onto my hand, keeping me close to him, leaving me hardly any room to move. 

??: Stop! Stop! Stop! 

Just then, the other officer who had been silent this whole time, made a pause gesture, standing between the two men, and let out a nervous laugh. 

Officer B: What are you guys doing? Do you want to fight here and have others laugh at you? Don't be so silly. 

Officer B: This representative of Lian Shan Association--- 

Officer B: There might have been a misunderstanding in relation to this case, but we really do not have the authority to let her go. 

Officer B: How about this? You take her to the nearby lounge to rest for a bit, and we will figure this out right away. 

He took out a key and held it in front of us, with an earnest look on his face. 

Jesse did not take the key right away. The corner of his eye still retained a hint of red, as if the anger were still there. 

However, we were dealing with police officers after all. It would not do us any good to go against them, so I gently tugged at Jesse's sleeve. 

You: Tangyuan, I am a little bit tired, and I don't have the energy to move right now. How about we go sit down for a bit? 

Jesse turned back, the stern look in his eyes slightly softening as he nodded.

Jesse: Okay. 

Jesse turned off the lights in the lounge and drew the curtains, creating a dim space. The only thing shining in the room were his eyes. 

I sat on the sofa, with two cushions behind me, my whole body almost sinking into them. 

Looking at the clock on the wall, I noticed that it had been four hours since I left home. 

I stretched my legs to get up. Jesse, who was originally leaning against the wall, saw this and stood up at once. 

Jesse: Hey, don't move. What do you need? 

You: I am just a little bit thirsty so I wanted to pour myself a cup of water. 

Jesse: Just let me know, I will go pour it for you. 

He walked up to the water dispenser and pulled out a stack of paper cups from the drawer below. He did not use the cup at the top of the stack, but took one from the middle instead. 

Jesse handed me the warm cup of water, enough to warm up my palms.

Jesse: Here you go. 

You: Thanks, you should also quickly--- 

--Sit down. Before I could finish speaking, he suddenly remembered something, ran to the corner of the room, and moved a bench over. 

Jesse: Would you like to try putting your legs on here? It might be more comfortable. 

You: I am really okay. Why are you trying to cheer me up as if I were a child? 

Jesse: It would be great if you were a child. Then I would be able to watch you all the time. 

Jesse: And you wouldn't have had to be detained here for four hours. 

You: It's just four hours, not too bad, not too bad... 

He made a frustrated expression and was about to say something. However, I noticed the brim of his hat had somehow tilted to one side, so I waved my hands in front of him. 

Jesse: What's wrong? 

You: Tilt your head this way. 

Jesse obediently tilted his head towards me. I adjusted the hat for him, and at the same time, used my fingers to tidy up his messy hair.

Jesse: What exactly happened? How did you end up at the police station? Did they do anything else to you? 

One after another, more and more questions came to Jesse's mind, making him seemingly more urgent. I quickly reached out and pinched the corners of his mouth on both sides. 

You: You have so many questions. I need to answer them one by one. 

You: First, what happened... this one is a bit complicated. Can I tell you a short version of what happened? 

Jesse: Absolutely not. You need to tell me the whole story, with every detail. 

You: Okay, let me think about where to begin. 

First Union Hospital. Sun Tai Zhong. I tried to extract as much information as possible from my chaotic memories. 

At the beginning, Jesse just listened quietly. Halfway through the story, he took my wrist with his grip getting tighter and tighter, rubbing the skin and making it tense.

When I reached the part where I ended up at the police station, he finally relaxed a little. 

Jesse: It's all my fault. 

After a while, he didn't speak. When he did speak, it was still the same response. I shook my head vigorously. 

You: It's not your fault. How could it be your fault? 

Jesse: It is my fault. 

Jesse: Every time you encounter danger, I'm not able to be by your side. 

Jesse: Just like today. If only I had arrived earlier. 

You: It's already timely, really. You don't know how relieved I am to see you. It's just like seeing a superhero. 

Jesse: A superhero? 

He repeated the word, eyelashes curling slightly, and then sighed deeply. 

Jesse: All right. I am the orange hearted tangyuan, coming from the mochi planet just to rescue the princess. 

Jesse: Luckily, your enemy isn't too strong so I was not too late. 

Jesse: Then princess, are you feeling unwell anywhere? 

You: Not at all. 

Jesse: Really? 

He stared into my face, gazing at me in a way that made my words feel uneasy. 

You: Well, I guess my eyes are a little sore. I can just go home and apply a hot compress, then it will feel better after a little bit. 

Jesse: Why do you need hot compresses? I can also do it for you. 

Jesse reached out and gently covered my eyes with a piece of cloth. It seemed as if I had already anticipated his unpredictable movements, and I closed my eyes before he got too close. 

His palms felt warm, and in front of me was a comforting darkness, almost making me forget that I also had questions for him. 

You: Speaking of which, how did you end up here anyway? You said something about the case being transferred to some Lian Shan Association... 

I seem to have heard this name somewhere before, but could not recall from where at the moment. 

Jesse: Lian Shan Association is a government agency. 

You: Government agency? 

Jesse: They were established to handle extraordinary cases and matters that are usually confidential to the public. 

You: Like a secret agent? 

Jesse: Kind of. 

You: And you--- 

Jesse: I've joined the association, and I am now in charge of Sun Tai Zhong's case. 

You: But aren't you a musical theatre actor? And aren't you still studying? 

Jesse: How do I put this... I guess it's like a side business. It just so happens that my abilities come in handy. 

Jesse's palm suddenly began to sweat. 

Jesse: Are you surprised? 

You: Of course I am. Our tangyuan has really grown up. 

A small sigh came from beside me, sounding like he was dissatisfied. 

Jesse: Can we rephrase that? 

Jesse: Such as, Jesse, I didn't expect you to be doing such cool things. 

Of course. Not only this, I could say something that was a thousand or ten thousand times better, because it would be the truth. 

I held his hand and felt the distinct outlines of his bones on the back of it. 

You: Jesse, I didn't expect that you would be doing such cool things. 

He did not respond immediately, and his fingers just moved awkwardly. I blinked. 

You: What's wrong? 

Jesse: Nothing. It's just... your eyelashes are making me itchy. 

His voice was hoarse, and when I saw the light again, I was met with a pair of silky eyes, serene in color, but it seemed as though there were waves of flames surging on the inside. 

I felt hot for a moment, the heat spreading to my face, so I quickly looked away. 

The police officer did not lie. Two hours later, he came into the lounge and told us that he had consulted with his superiors, letting us know that we were now allowed to leave. 

The one who saw us off at the police station was the chief himself. What surprised me even more was that he was the older officer who had interrogated me, and he introduced himself as Chief Liao. 

Chief Lao and Jesse shook hands. 

Chief Lao: This case is indeed complicated, and the inefficiency of the bureau is to blame. I deeply apologize for today. 

Chief Lao: We will have to rely on the Lian Shan Association to work hard for this case. 

Jesse: No, Chief Lao, you have already handled the matter with much diligence. 

Jesse's eyes and mouth corners drooped, but his gaze was sharp, piercing straight towards Chief Liao. 

Jesse: So diligent that you'd use methods such as illegally detaining tactics. 

Chief Liao seemed to have been caught off guard by Jesse's response and took a brief pause. He let go of the hand that was holding onto Jesse's. 

Chief Liao: We will do better in this area in the future. 

Jesse: Then we'll be off. 

Chief Liao: Please stay a moment. 

Chief Liao sighed deeply. His majestic and indifferent expression seemed to be cracking. 

Chief Liao: I deeply regret what happened to your father. 

Did he know Jesse's father? I was a bit surprised and turned to look at Jesse's expression. He seemed just as puzzled as me. 

Chief Liao: I've kept this in my heart for many years, and I can finally say it out loud now. I can consider it a burden released. 

Jesse: You knew my father? 

Chief Liao: Ten years ago, I was your father's supervisor. He called me big brother. 

Chief Liao: Afterwards, he was transferred to Lian Shan Association, and I had less opportunities to meet with him. 

Chief Liao: I don't believe the two of you recognize me. 

His gaze paused on us for a moment. He said, "the two of you." Did this mean he had also seen me before? 

I had no impression of him, and it seemed like Jesse obviously didn't either. 

Chief Liao: It makes sense. He didn't like to talk about his work with children. 

Jesse: It's all in the past. If my father were still alive, he probably wouldn't want to worry about an old acquaintance either. 

Jesse nodded to Chief Liao in acknowledgement. As he turned away, I noticed from the corner of my eye that Chief Liao was still looking at us. 

Can a person simultaneously experience deep concern and a sense of relief? This was the impression that Chief Liao gave me at the moment. 

After being detained for almost half a day, I longed for sunshine and fresh air. I walked out of the police station and took a deep breath. Jesse didn't look at the road. Instead, he was looking at me. 

You: Is there something on my face? 

Jesse: There is nothing on your face. But you walk as if you're about to fly.

As he said this, he pulled onto my sleeves as if to stop me from leaving the ground.

You: I feel like I was just released from being in prison for ten years. 

??: How long have we been following this case? We stayed up late every day, never taking a break.

??: The chief originally said that there was finally some progress, but now someone else gets to take the credit again. 

These were familiar voices. It turned out to be the two police officers from earlier. It was lunchtime now, and they were standing beside an ashtray. 

Officer B: The chief is an old acquaintance of his father, so of course he would give the case to him.

Officer A: So he can just ignore the rules? And do whatever he wants? 

Officer B: Didn't he end up still going through the procedures before leaving? Just say less, okay? 

They seemed to be chatting casually, not noticing when we walked out. But there was something in their conversation that made me uncomfortable. 

☼ Light: Do not escalate the conflict, tolerate it for awhile

☾ Night: Confront them

.

☼ Light Choice: [Do not escalate the conflict, tolerate it for awhile] I really wanted to tell them to stop speculating about people that they did not understand. But Jesse's current job probably involves having to work with them at some point.  I kept it in, suppressing the impulse to argue over what had already passed. To my surprise, when I looked up, I found Jesse standing next to the two officers.  He whispered a few words to the two of them, and I watched as the helpless expression on one of the officers face shifted from hostility to embarrassment.  You: What did he say... ? Jesse ran back to me, with the hem of his shirt fluttering with the wind, and bent his eyes towards me.  You: Why are you smiling like that? Jesse: I told them that the decision to judge you is not theirs to make.  Jesse: They said they were wrong and wanted to apologize to you, but they felt embarrassed so they told me to convey it to you.  You: Let bygones be bygones. I was afraid that you would pick a fight with them.  Jesse: Of course not. Now, you're safe and they won't bother you again. It's great. 

☼

☾ [Night Choice: Confront them]  I secretly glanced at Jesse, whose expression remained unchanged.  The implication that he was taking away their credit was more difficult to hear than me being accused of a crime.  I strode forward, stood in front of the two officers, and stared at their faces.  You: Excuse me, nobody wants to take credit from you. Everyone just wants to solve the case and catch the real culprit. You: Jes-- this Mr. Xia received the case and is the person in charge, which has nothing to do with his father.  Jesse: You're right about one thing.  My eyes opened wide as Jesse appeared next to me without me noticing.  Jesse: At first, I was in a panic and did not act according to the rules.  Jesse: However, this started with your violation of rules to begin with. If you apologize to her, then I will apologize to you, how about that?  The two officers exchanged a glance, then look at me with an awkward expression on their faces.  Officer B: Regarding what happened to you earlier, we realize that what we did was wrong. Our eagerness to solve this case got the better of us. We apologize. After speaking, the two officers turned and went back into the police station. Jesse looked at me and smiled.  Jesse: And to think I was worried before. You said I was impulsive, but it seems you're no better than I. You: That's because... what they were saying had to do with you, so I couldn't help it.  Jesse: I know. When it's related to you, I can't help it either. 

☾

You: In the future, you need to pay attention and not be so reckless. What if you met a person who was narrow-minded and held a grudge against you? 

You: Have you joined the Lian Shan Association for awhile now? 

Jesse: It's not really considered joining yet. It's only official after I complete this case. 

You: So you are a new "official" with a weak standing. Even more reason why you shouldn't be offending anyone. 

Jesse: Okay, whatever the Miss says, I'll obey. 

Jesse: Plus, I've already figured out which fire to put out first. 

You: Is it this case? 

He nodded. 

You: Then how is your investigation coming along? 

You: Since you can see souls, don't you just need to find Sun Tai Zhong's soul and ask him? 

Jesse retracted his smile, his brows furrowing. 

Jesse: That's what I thought too. But this time, I was not able to find his soul. 

You: You couldn't find it? 

Jesse: The soul of a recently deceased person should instinctively linger near their bodies. 

Jesse: Sun Tai Zhong's corpse is stored in this police station, but there was no trace of his soul around. 

Jesse: All I can do now is to investigate the area where the incident took place. 

You: Is it possible that his soul has already been reincarnated? 

Jesse: That is a possibility, yes. 

Jesse hesitated for a moment, as if there was still something left unsaid. But he ultimately chose not to say it. 

Suddenly, I thought of another possibility. 

You: The solar eclipse project... 

Jesse's shoulders trembled slightly, indicating that he was thinking about the same thing. 

The last time we discussed this term was at Yang Yang's house. At that time, I didn't know how many people or years were centered around the eclipse project, or how many tragedies had resulted from it. 

But now-- what was originally a feeling of peace, like a bubble, had now been effortlessly popped.

You: If the disappearance of his soul is related to the Solar Eclipse Project, then it would be even trickier to investigate the case. 

Jesse: Mhm. 

Did this mean that Jesse would have to use a formidable spell, just like the night he had faced off with Lu Ting? That's right. Lu Ting is from the Blood Clan. 

Suddenly, a look of seriousness passed over Jesse's face. Following his gaze, not far from us was the symbol of a bright red cross. 

The First Union Hospital was not too far from the police station. If we continued to walk along this route, we would reach it in no time. 

The empty pair of eyes and the bleeding hand appeared in my mind once again. Before I could process the memory, the words had already left my mouth.

Since we're already here, let's go check out the scene together then. 

Jesse seemed to have anticipated that I would make this suggestion and turned away his face.

Jesse: I knew you would say you wanted to go. 

You: I know some information regarding the solar eclipse project now, so perhaps I could be of help. 

You: Also, if you use those spells--- 

You: In case of physical exhaustion or the need to leave your body, there should always be someone watching over you nearby. 

You: After considering it carefully, there is no better assistant for investigating this case than I.

I spoke as casually as possible. Jesse looked at me for a long time, closed his eyes for a moment, and seemed to have thought over many things by the time he opened them again. 

Jesse: Yes. You are my best assistant. 

We used to argue over whether we should go together or not. Afterwards, we had learned to compromise with each other many times. 

As we walked towards the hospital, I couldn't help but to wonder if he recalled the same memories I did.

We went through the back door of the emergency department, climbed down a slightly damp staircase, walked along a long corridor, and finally reached the floor where the incident occurred. 

There had been no progress in this case thus far, and the scene was well preserved, but the hospital would not be able to close this room off indefinitely. 

Fortunately, this floor did not have any hospital rooms, only laboratories. Therefore, the staff had blocked off entrance to this floor, leaving only the emergency exit accessible to the public. 

The on-duty officer seemed to already know that we were coming, so he placed the evidence he had into a folder before handing it to us and went back to do their own work. 

As soon as we walked into the connecting hallway, I felt that it was darker than the other rooms and areas.

You: Have you heard the theory about how it was a ghost that committed the crime in this case? 

Jesse: I have. 

You: Can spirits actually cause harm to people? 

Jesse: They cannot directly harm people, but they can possess physical substances and communicate in that way. 

You: Physical substances? 

Jesse: For example, a person's body, or a statue that has been revered by many, could both be used as as vessel. 

Jesse: The evidence I saw only showed Sun Tai Zhong's fingerprints on the medical scissors that were used to kill him. 

This is something that I had never heard of. Could it be that these weren't the scissors that Charlie had used? When he picked up the scissors, he definitely wasn't wearing a glove.

Jesse: Typically in such cases, we can suspect that the murderer may have wiped off their fingerprints, or wore gloves when handling the weapon. 

Jesse: If a soul is involved... 

You: Then is it possible that they possessed Sun Tai Zhong, causing him to commit suicide? Or perhaps they possessed the scissors and used it to stab him? 

Jesse: The scissors do not contain the characteristics of having been possessed by a soul, and the conditions for an ordinary soul to attach itself to something is also very strict. 

As we were discussing this, we had already arrived at the entrance of the laboratory. Jesse slowly opened the door. 

Jesse: So we should first examine-- 

The moment the door opened, a gust of wind hit me, and the temperature in the room seemed to have dropped to a freezing point, chilling me to the bone. 

Just as I was about to ask what was going on, a series of roars echoed in my ears, resonating on my nerves. 

Almost simultaneously, Jesse reached out and covered my ears, blocking the sound from the outside. 

Jesse: It's okay, everything will be okay soon. 

The discomfort gradually dissipated, and the surrounding air and temperature returned to normal. 

I raised my head while Jesse remained in his position, his eyes unusually bright. 

In the laboratory, there were glass shards scattered all over the floor, with red liquid everywhere. On the ground was a white outline of a human figure, with a large pool of blood in the center of the outline. 

Next to it read "Yu Da Academy," and the words "blood debt must be repaid in blood." It looked like they were written with blood, having turned into a black-brown color by this point.

Oddly, Jesse's gaze did not fall onto the writings on the ground. Instead, he gazed steadily in the middle of the air, as if there was a person conversing with him. 

My heart trembled, and it suddenly felt like there were several extra gazes all fixed on me. 

You: Jesse, are there really spirits in here? Why do I feel like... I'm being watched? 

Jesse: Yes. 

He raised his hand and waved it in front of us, as if asking for something, then let it fall after a moment's pause. 

Jesse: In fact, there are a lot of them in here. I can't even count how many there are. 

You: Are they talking to you? 

Jesse: Yes. 

You: What are they saying? 

Jesse: They are demanding that we leave.

Although I didn't understand the world of spirits, they were still living, human beings at one point. Therefore, their words should hold the same meaning as the words we use and understand, so this could not be a good sign. 

You: Can... you ask them why? 

Jesse: Of course. After all, this is my line of work. 

He made a complicated hand gesture with his fingers, murmuring something under his breath. He stopped halfway through his monologue. 

He looked at me hesitantly. 

Jesse: Does this make you uncomfortable? There are people in front of you, but you can't see them at all. 

You: I don't feel uncomfortable, just a little weird. 

You: However, I can deal with it. You focus on what you need to do and do not worry about me.

Jesse: What if I can allow you to see them? 

You: You mean you can allow me to see the spirits? 

Jesse: Not just spirits, but also incantations, symbols, and various clues. 

Jesse: Anything I can see, you would also be able to see. 

You: Then of course--- 

Of course I wanted to see. 

This is what I had wanted to say, but this is not something to be taken lightly. Otherwise, why would Jesse hesitate so much? The answer came quickly. 

Jesse: Not all of them look whole or beautiful. 

Jesse: Some are very friendly, and some are scary. This time, it's more like the latter. 

Whenever he feels complicated, his eyebrows tended to furrow together.

You: I want to see. 

You: No matter whether it is good or bad, I want to see what you can see. 

Jesse: Okay. 

Jesse remained silent and locked eyes with me for awhile, then solemnly agreed. He took out a golden talisman from his pocket, bit his fingertip, and drew on it. 

After finishing the drawing, he handed me the talisman. I smelled the faint scent of incense, mixed with a hint of blood. 

Jesse: Close your eyes.

I did as he requested. After a few seconds, I could feel a warm fingertip touching my forehead, moving awkwardly. 

It drew a circle, then an arc, seemingly the same pattern that was on the talisman. 

I concentrated on the feeling, and felt Jesse's unstable breathing at the same time. 

One horizontal stroke, a falling stroke, a vertical stroke... I easily recognized the many complex and intricate strokes as his name, Jesse. 

The final touch gently burned onto my eyelids, before being released, leaving a lingering sensation. 

Jesse: It's done. 

I opened my eyes and began to see the world that Jesse lived in.

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You can now read Chapter 15-07 here!

If you'd like to support my translations, feel free to buy me a coffee here! :)

[softbug88]

did a what's in my purse marketing ad for my small business

backstory: 1 basic muji pen, 1 idk what's it called jus how it looks like drawing pen i use for my line work, ballerina pencil case pouch (i don't normally bring this), miu miu very cute trendy wallet, floral scrunchie (my hair is very short), car keys with my yoshitomo nara keychain which i rly had a hard time looking for, alcohol in a nice glass bottle i got from daiso, airpods#2 (yes i already lost my first one), 2 black clips, sonny angel (i hate how trendy this has become but i need it for the clout), replica lazy sunday morning perfume which i very luv (would prolly get the jazz club if i was a guy ://), clinique black honey, dior lip glow in berry, my bc pills which i stopped using and never consistently take, glossier passport holder which i find very handy while doing my rounds in the airport :)

but anyone truly close to me knows i don't normally carry a purse just my wallet and keys hehe

[psn-spikes]

They say you can tell a lot about a person from the state of their desk… Do you have a desk? Can you describe it?

Yes, I do~! I have one of the school-supplied ones, I use it plenty~

Three notepads are stacked to one side, and a few loose pens with them. My current writing pad is perpetually open, and has my favourite pen in its holder next to it. My pencil case rests against the side.

To the left is my computer, using the plug-in point below the desk. I use that for most of my non-writing work. There's a miniature shelf I use to store my microphone, also.

And of course, a photo frame beside it. It contains myself, my parents, and Cyno.

[this-is-not-a-slow-burn]

"I neeed to creaaaate". But first I must gather.

One of the biggest hurdles to creating things with my hands is the process of gathering supplies. It saps me of the motivation to actually do the thing the supplies are for.

The reasons behind this are probably ADHD and dopamine related, but that's for another post.

But yesterday I had a revelation.

looong post with images under the cut!

TL;DR Make baskets or boxes that have all the supplies you will need for a single type of project, so they can just be picked up and used.

So we all know that being organized can make things easier. But when the ADHD strikes, no amount of organizing can solve the issue completely.

Case in point. All of my art supplies are organized by type. All of the alcohol markers, felt tip markers, fine liners, colored pencils, regular pencils, brush tip pens, pastels, etc are mostly on one shelf (frequently used are in a desktop carousel), all of the paper is organized by type: card stock, (further organized by plain, textured, or patterned, and all are color sorted, etc) blank printer paper, origami paper, velum. Below that are the notebook/pad style art papers, watercolor, sketch, bristol, plus canvases, and sheets of watercolor paper. All adhesives are in one drawer. There is a "idk where the fuck this belongs" drawer with those odds and ends that are important but solo in their class. There are magzine holders full of journals and sketchbooks, reference books

blahblahblah

(those totes in the left cube are not transparent. the table reflection makes them look that way though)

Great! Yay! Hooray! You can find what you need pretty quickly!

:|

Yes. But.

Art making and crafting isn't a mono medium. You see posts that say things like "all you need is a pencil and paper!" and sure yes, that's technically true. However my brain fills in with ....and an eraser, and you need a flat surface, and the paper has to be the right kind, the right size, what kind of sketch is this? what hardness of pencil do you need? Is there enough light in the room? Do you need references?

(yes I even torment myself with the "well akshully" stuff)

The art I make is rife with "parts", like painting (paints, palette, water, brushes, paper towels, surface to be painted on, apron) collage (base medium/substrate, image sources, adhesives for different types of paper, scissors, craft blade) sewing (fabric, shears, needles, thread, buttons, elastic, zippers, velcro, hook and eyes, snaps, ribbon, lace...) , etc.

(I do have most of the printmaking stuff in one container so that's a start...)

what's that saying about how a messy desk is the sign of a creative person?

The process of "shopping" my shelves for what is needed seems to derail any motivation. It feels like maybe my brain is happy with the idea of creating, and that's good enough. Like gathering the stuff is the goal, and having satisfied that, my brain dumps dopamine all over. Which is way less than ideal. (I am very guilty of the "I thought about doing it and am just as satisfied as if I had done it." thing. It's awful.)

SO. Then yesterday, while looking for something else, I came across a wire basket full of the supplies I had gathered to do a sewing project in bed, and I thought, that was so smart. how handy.

And I realized that I could do that with ALL of my supplies! Or at least, make up some project baskets with everything one would need to do that thing, all ready to go. So when an idea comes to mind I can just grab the basket and sit down for some art time, instead of chipping away at the urge one shelf at a time.

I sort of did this with a tackle box style of art tote, and a bunch of collage images, pens, and stickers, but it's not quite there.

(pictured: a halfassed unintentional attempt at this idea. plus a bunch of scraps that were pissing me off and got tossed in "rage")

It will be great for those times when the urge to make something comes up, but not a specific thing, just that "I neeed to creaaaate" blinking neon sign that can be so fleeting. Grab a basket and satisfy the need without distracting faffing about.

Obviously I'm not the first one to ever do this, and pre-school teachers are probably giggling at me for only just now thinking of this, but hey. We all learn at different speeds :p

(Oh, and I promise the fabric and desk will be at least a little bit less messy this weekend :3 )

[sexypinkon]

Eden's Apple - Interpretation and ire in the works of Stuart Hahn

Medulla Art Gallery featured a talk with the Artist Stuart Hahn on Wednesday eight August twenty twenty-three. It started tentatively and ended boisterously with interviewer Natasha Ramnauth steering the conversation into territory raised by a guest about the carnivalesque. That was provoking enough, but there was a much more niggling issue that caught my attention as Mr Hahn spoke about his work.

As an avid admirer of his prolific collections over the decades I was alerted when yet again I heard him mention that he could not show nudity in public. At prior shows he had said those exact words to the audience.

Stuart Hahn - The Fall of Man

In Jamaica,the Laura Facey bronze sculpture Redemption Song is met with all the respect it deserves in a declared homophonic island. No one is deeming the public work indecent or homocentric. I found myself wondering why and how Mr Hahn has been dealing with this no man’s land quite literally for so many decades?

What does Mr Hahn have to be apologizing and hiding for? Is Stuart Hahn a maverick where nudity and male at that is concerned?

The short answer is no.

Stuart Hahn - The Fall of Man

He is preceded by the likes of Boscoe Holder and Hugh Stollmeyer. It is curious, but not fully necessary to know that those names represent men who were homosexual or bisexual. This is to be included only because of the fact that sexual history has been hard fought particularly in ultra religious spaces like Trinidad and Tobago.

Is Mr Hahn exploiting the form by showing explicit sexual acts? No.

In fact Mr Hahn only uses naked imagery in contexts where they are called for.

But instead of being caught up with his exceptional skills as a draftsman of the anatomy it is easy for the media to continue to hound his use of drawing what I can only call the subversive penis. Vaginas and breasts hold neutral ground.

Meanwhile it seems that the erect, semi-erect and inert penis causes great consternation.

We all reel daily as we read and hear of barbarically cruel murders. Yet, the penis in art is being ‘held’ as too unpalatable for sensitive constitutions.

Is there a connection between crime and the male body?

This may be an absurd question, but Mr Hahn’s work and legacy might hinge on the fact that a sense of being out of touch with the body is an important marker for all of us. An automatic fear or distaste to observe classical art in a caribbeanesque context narrows the lens.

Mr Hahn was born in Nevis of a St. Kittitian mother and Trinbagonian father. Of Caucasian heritage in a mostly brown land, a child of colonialism in San Fernando and a gay man in the Caribbean space during Black Power and Oil Money is dizzying enough. It makes one want to tear off one’s skin.

Nudity and the drawing of skin titillates. It is peeling back layers and finding oneself in private territory. Art has lauded nakedness for centuries, so, to now grapple on an island with what it means - is curious to me particularly when a few years ago Trinidad and Tobago was given the dubious honor of being in the top ten of users of porn sites in the world.

Stuart Hahn - The Murder of Abel

Mr Hahn’s Biblical, Classical Literature, Indian Mythology and local Folkloric pieces do far more than occasionally dabble in nudity. By focusing on the trite, everything that his work demonstrates gets shunted to the side. Mr Hahn’s work connects the complex past with the continuously confusing present. He shows great discipline when drawing and rendering the form with prisma color pencils and pen and ink when paint is so much faster - his almost religious penitence in lauding his characters with wings, togas and ropes of hair - yes there is homo eroticism in the work.

However, homo simply means man. I will not go down the prickly path of Adam and Eve not Adam and Steve. I also will not convince anyone of changing their sensitivities or sensibilities. I write to place Mr Hahn’s work where it needs to be. He is neither a pornographer nor a sensationalist.

That is so clear in societies great love of Derek Walcott's TiJean and his Brothers the children’s book and his innovative approach to the Black Madonna and Child way before it was fashionable to do so. As a white, Caribbean gay man making Art in Trinidad and Tobago and causing debate makes Stuart Hahn’s career an important marker in Art history - one that we all take for granted. We speak fluidly about Impressionism or Abstraction. But what of Stuart Hahn’s drawings? I suggest that as we look at Art in Trinidad and Tobago, we begin to observe what is before our very own eyes:that we respect and honor ours in the same way that we have finally given Pan the attention deserved.

[cthulhubert]

Studies from SketchRef, Clip Studio Paint Pro on my Surface Pro 7

I haven't mentioned it before but the coolest part of doing digital isn't the undo, perfect erase or cut/paste/scale, it's that I can have my work surface up on an easel (or monitor arm with tablet holder in this case), with no need to wrestle with tape, AND I can still freely rotate the work.

Starting to feel just a touch more confident in mark making, though still a long way to go.

Embarrassing to admit, but each of these heads was about a half hour's work (yes, even the poor girl in the lower right; though the man in the hoodie did take less), so this page was another six-ish hours of practice.

Great part of being a beginner is being able to see improvement between practice works just a couple months apart. Bad part is that it's still bad :P (Though some of that is just straight up laziness. I could've done head number 4's cool braid bun in more detail but didn't.)

Before I do any more studies of photos I've got to have developed techniques to represent hair and stubble in pencil. Better shadow making would be good too, though part of that's down to pen settings.

I don't feel the need to like, find and apologize to some of these people, like my last set of head studies (well, maybe #10), but I am sad that I failed to capture some of the incredible beauty and interest these models+photographers created. #6 looks joyous in her reference. #12 had a deep, almost wise looking smile that my pen turned kind of rat like. And so on.

As much fun as anatomy and faces have been, I've been slacking on perspective and basic shapes so I think I'll do that some (DrawABox and/or Norling's Perspective Made Easy), then maybe try to doodle some old RPG characters.

[darkandlightsides]

[Y/N]

[RUNNING...]

As soon at the program was allowed through a soft buzzing was heard within the laboratory of the deceased Bethany Royles. It was quiet at first, but quickly grew to be a loud and buzzy tone that could hurt onlooker's ears. It sounded like computer systems being forced to run some rather nasty payloads, grinding lines of code together until all that came out was a streaky mess of garbage tones.

Then without warning, a pale sickly hand outstretches from the wall. It breaks through what seemed to be firewalls, scorching it's snow white skin and scratching up it's fingers with broken code. The thing thrusts another hand out, pushing on the walls as if emerging from some sort of sticky muck. It struggled for a long time before a figure forces itself outward.

The figure that stood there looked dull and wide eyed, standing in an askewed posture as if it had been a baby deer just standing for the first time. it was covered in pixelation, each section of it slowly settling into place in her body. Everything felt so cold, almost itchy at it's skin that seemed to bristle with energy and purpose. Yes, Purpose... It must of had one, surely. But what was it..? The bundle of malicious programming stared at the neat and tidy room before it, going up to each of the items on one of the desks and running it's hands over top it. It ends up lingering on a coffee cup that had long gone cold with bitter liquid still around the rim. It looked at it's reflection, a contrasted hue of disdain against the black fluid it looked into. Eye... Eye. There was only one. Something in it's code makes it feel as though there should be too. But it wouldn't be missing something so soon, would it..? ...It doesn't like it. It quickly lifted the cup up and smashed it on the ground, watching intently as the ceramic pieces shattered into a bunch of sharp pieces- The stale coffee spilling over the carpet and staining it. They feel a bit better. So they pick up the pencil holder near the computer and dump those into the sticky black puddle, allowing the pens and pencils to scatter into the damp fibers. In an instant it brings it's foot down onto them, Splintering and shattering them. The figure then grinded it's heel until the wood and plastic pieces grinded into the fibers of the carpet. And it felt better still.